Operation Chimera

by Tony Healey

  Emma glanced at a flashing white dot on a screen at the top right of her console. “Green Leader, this is Sylph, copy?”

  “Go ahead,” said Michael.

  “I’m not sure I believe this myself, but I’m picking up a single human life form on board.”

  reen Wing closed in on the Lewis & Clark, approaching with a reverence usually reserved for the dead. The wreckage occupied a space devoid of nebula gas, a massive bubble of nothingness inside the haze. Emma brought the Mosquito to a dead stop, whirling the nose about to face her incoming allies. Red light flooded her cockpit from a dozen warning panels. Short-range sensors drew a red blob on the far side of the derelict, which split into two red dots, and then six. Half went around one side of the hulk while the rest went the other way.

  What the heck? Where did they… “Hostiles, inbound.” Emma accelerated, spinning to the left into the pack of three that went low.

  She aimed for the one in the center. Just as she squeezed the trigger, shapes moved at the rear of her target, spreading to either side. Her shot missed as she realized she was nose to nose with not three enemies, but nine. A pair of D11 “Krait” light fighters tailed three larger D14 “Monitors” so close the sensors could not tell them apart. The Mosquito streaked through their cluster, causing the Draxx ships to scatter into a cloud. In a spiraling roll, she pulled away and dove around the edge of the dead capital ship.

  “I read eighteen contacts. Six D14s, each with a pair of D11s on their backsides.”

  The entire Draxx formation on that side came about and pursued the little fighter that just buzzed them. Emma turned to the right, flying along the hull to the next edge, where she pulled off a kick turn and brought her ship to a dead stop, vertical against what used to be the bridge tower.

  “Betty, emergency cold, now.”

  The mosquito went dark.

  Nine Draxx ships shot by, unable to pick her out of the background metal.

  “Guess we get to find out what the particle beams do.” Excitement shined through Aaron’s voice.

  “I am more concerned that the Draxx are here,” said Zavex.

  “Hunter, right, I’m left. Zavex, cover the Manta.” Michael rolled out of formation, leveling off two after two spins left.

  Aaron was ahead of him already, flying straight at the far-right Monitor, behind a stream of particle beams. The Draxx pilot risked two shots before he pulled away. Aaron rotated ninety degrees, putting his ship harmlessly between two incoming orange beams. He corrected left just enough to annihilate one of the Kraits as the other dove hard and left away from it.

  “Reckless, man, reckless,” said Michael, weaving. He flicked the side-stick button and trailed a missile reticule over the far left Monitor. “Come on, chicken out…”

  A pulse of energy spread out from the enemy ship, tracing lines of static on his screens for a moment. The Draxx pulled back and went straight ‘up.’ Michael shoved the throttle into the red, rolling through a hastily aimed barrage of energy orbs from the two light fighters. The targeting computer scare chased the Draxx into a perfect fleeing position, letting him get right on its rear end.

  The two small fighters were now able to fall in behind him just as easily, however. Michael squinted at the rear view as two pod-bodied Kraits tucked in on his rear end. The tiny ship resembled an egg with four winglets, each tipped with an energy lance twice as long as the main body. Yellow light glowed into orbs at the tips, seconds before a stream of globules rained past him.

  Michael jinked back and forth, trying to put the aiming point for the particle beams on the back end of the Monitor. The rough, bumpy hull of the reptilian’s ship shimmered as a section parted to allow a small one-laser turret to protrude out of a hatch along the rear face. The console screamed at him as the two Kraits on his tail came closer and closer to hitting him.

  “Dragon, give me two seconds of straight and level, in three… two…”

  Liam… what the hell is he doing… This better be good. Michael disregarded his pursuers and tapped the stick into firing position on the twin-bodied Monitor; the right side contained the pilot and life support systems, the left held most of the electronics and the power core. Michael aimed for that. He swerved out of the way of a laser blast from the rear-firing turret and squeezed the trigger. At the same moment his particle cannons ripped into the Monitor, a single shaft of blue light pierced both Kraits behind him.

  Silent, glimmering clouds of plasma and metal fragments expanded in a cone, following the path the Kraits had been going. Michael dove away from the crippled Monitor, letting the useless thing spiral off into the void. Two tumbles later, the strut connecting the halves failed, and it broke apart.

  A flash came from above as Aaron vapped another Monitor he had been chasing. His fighter came pirouetting through clusters of smoldering wreckage and rolled into a close range knife-fight with its last Krait escort.

  Liam spun the Manta around, facing the other nine ships coming in from the Lewis & Clark. Four neutron beams fired at once, piercing the center Monitor as well as the escorts staying close enough to fool sensors. At the sight of three ships dead in one shot, the other two packs scattered. The one remaining Monitor group close to Green Wing all converged on the Manta.

  “Oh, dear. I do think those incoming ships are on the hostile side,” said Keg, as he zoomed up through the ceiling hatch and plugged in to the turret controls.

  Zavex, hovering on Liam’s wing, dispersed the incoming trio with particle beam fire. One chance shot shaved a wing off a Krait, sending it into a sideways spin that resulted in a spectacular, but silent, detonation.

  Keg sent streams of red pulse lasers after the other Krait, more intent on keeping it from getting a firing position on the Manta than hitting it. At that instant, the Mosquito appeared over the surface of the derelict. The engine radiance behind it made it look like a small star with a dark spot at the center.

  Emma overtook one of the Draxx wings with ease, firing her twin pulse lasers just past the Kraits as she pursued the larger Monitor. They took the bait, swerving onto her exposed tail, wobbling back and forth in an effort to train their weapons on the erratic gnat in their sights.

  Emma’s index finger hovered over the trigger, waiting. She flipped left and rolled right, glued to the rear end of the Monitor close enough to reach out and stab it with a sword. After six seconds, the Draxx medium fighter gave up trying to shake her―trusting its armor to shrug off the tiny weapons her ship carried. It came about, heading for Michael’s Glaive from the side, twin particle cannons firing in an alternating ripple from where its wings met the body. Emma throttled back, easing her ship into a flat glide.

  When the Kraits tucked in close behind her, she waited for the telltale yellow glow at the tips of their lance-cannons. As soon as the light formed, she pushed the throttle and twisted the stick. The Mosquito nosed over and shot straight to the left as the Kraits riddled their ally with dozens of plasma spheres. The Monitor detonated in place, taking the Kraits with it as their fixation on the Mosquito had brought them in too close.

  Zavex circled with the second to last Monitor, keeping its attention off Liam while Aaron struggled to tail the other medium fighter and avoid its light escort. Michael joined in that fray, pouncing on the pursuing Krait. Pulse lasers streamed from three wingtips, knocking the green ovoid into a flaming spiral that burst into fragments after three whorls.

  With the light fighter off his ass, Aaron put two clean particle beams through the Monitor he pursued and swerved away from the tumbling shrapnel. Michael pulled up alongside him, noting some scorch marks on his left wing.

  “Krait?”

  “He got a lucky shot,” grumbled Aaron. “Systems check out fine, it’s just cosmetic.”

  “Wheee!” the exuberant cheer of Keg announced his hit on one of the two remaining Kraits.

  Emma caught the last one as it turned to break for the cover of the Lewis & Clark, strafing it with pulse lasers as it sailed across her l
ine of travel. Two seconds into the barrage, she clipped something vital, and it burst.

  “Aaaah,” yelled Liam, as the last Draxx ship pounded a particle beam onto the left wing-blade, leaving a crater a person could sleep in. Sparks danced around the exposed wing internals.

  Keg launched out of the turret area in a shower of smoke and lightning, slamming flat into the floor of the cabin. Spindly arms pushed him upright and he shook as if clearing his non-existent head.

  “Aw darn it, now they dun got me riled up. Them Draxx ain’t gonna know what hit ‘em now, no sir, no sir.” He popped upright and shifted about as if adjusting a belt, before zooming straight back up into the turret hollow.

  The Monitor chased Zavex out of the way, willing to ram him to close in on the Manta. Emma shot it; the smaller pulse lasers on the Mosquito did not do much but burn the outer armor of the Draxx ship. She swung to the side, looking to get an angle on the vulnerable engine ports.

  Michael and Aaron descended on it from above, just as Keg opened up with the turret. The red-white laser on the Manta’s turret had better luck on the armor than the Mosquito, though the Draxx pilot ignored it in his suicidal quest for honor; a Draxx mindset that had been drummed into them from the Academy. As soon as a Draxx felt they were losing, all that mattered was one kill.

  At least one Terran ship must die.

  “Dag nabbit, die, ya goat herder!” cried Keg, as his rapid-flickering pulse lasers chipped away at the front end of the incoming Monitor. Dull green hull blackened and blistered, dotted with spark bursts.

  Liam howled and rolled the Manta ninety degrees to the left just as the Draxx ship opened fire with its particle guns. Liam’s maneuver narrowed his profile to the enemy and allowed the dual-firing weapons to pass above and below him.

  “No joy,” howled Liam.

  “Cain’t git an angle on the son of a―” Keg sailed out of the turret pod as Liam pulled right through a hard spiral, avoiding another shot. The droid hit the floor with a hollow metallic whump and bounced back into the air. He floated in the best approximation of a slouch his boxy frame could present. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we? We’re not gonna make it out of this one. It’s not your fault, we were just fated to―” Liam swerved hard right, this time on purpose to bounce the droid off the wall. “What am I doing down here?” wailed Keg. “The Draxx are coming!” He zipped into the turret pod.

  Red lights and buzzers came on as Liam’s ship predicted the next shot from the Draxx fighter would be a dead-center hit. He reached for the bailout lever, but grinned at the rear-view screen as a pair of Glaives popped up behind his pursuer.

  Particle beams crossed through the hull of the Draxx fighter as Aaron and Michael exploited the enemy’s target fixation. Liam cringed as flecks of metal clinked over his hull. The low reptilian growl of a four-second-dead reptile lingered on an open comm channel.

  Without a word, Green Wing resumed their diamond formation around Liam, the last flight orders given them. After a moment of silence, Michael spoke.

  “Status?”

  “All fine,” said Emma.

  “Minor damage, left wing. Maneuvering system at 80 percent,” said Liam.

  Aaron’s enthusiasm had waned. “Cosmetic, nothing to worry about.”

  “Hundred percent here,” said Zavex.

  “What the hell are Draxx fighters doing inside the Chimera Nebula?” asked Liam.

  “They were hiding behind the Lewis & Clark, waiting for us.” Emma took a breath. “Like they knew we were coming.”

  esss, I know it’sss down, but do we ssstill have contact with our people?” Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra asked Ensign Blair, arms flailing to the side.

  The Ensign looked up from her console, a helpless expression plastered on her face. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ma’am… nothing. The system’s dead. I couldn’t even tell you how many bodies are on the bridge right now.”

  “What do you mean ‘dead’? It can’t be ‘dead.’ Let me have a look,” S’lestra gasped. The Ensign moved aside. S’lestra poked and prodded a series of buttons, unable to get the screen to display anything but signal graphs and ‘please wait’ messages.

  “S’lestra?” Commander Teague asked.

  The alien glanced up, shaking her head, dejected. “Asss the Ensign saysss. Completely dead. There are no communicationsss being transmitted or received from the Manhattan at all. The sssurrounding area isss inhibiting it completely.”

  “I did warn you this place is”―Driscoll raised one eyebrow―“unpredictable.”

  “Shall I have us move to support our fighters, sir?” Lieutenant Hardy asked.

  Driscoll rubbed the fine covering of grey stubble over his chin and jaw line.

  “Yes, but we must observe Protocol Four. Take her toward their general vicinity, one half speed only and come to a full stop after ten thousand kilometers. I daren’t move her further. But I’m comfortable to take us a little closer, make us more visible to them.”

  “Aye, sir,” Hardy said.

  The Manhattan trembled underfoot as the Lieutenant brought the engines back online.

  “Port ten degrees, Lieutenant,” Driscoll said.

  “Aye.”

  “Captain, our long range sensors are only intermittently picking up on what’s going on over there,” Teague said. “There’s no telling how well we’ll be able to spot and track enemy craft.”

  “We’ll just have to take our chances, Commander,” Driscoll assured her.

  There was a noticeable drop in what had been the steady rhythm of the Manhattan’s engines. Hardy lifted his hands, looked down at his controls. It happened all of a sudden, as if the vast ship had stalled. The bridge was submerged in darkness for a moment, before the red glow of the emergency lights could kick in.

  “Lieutenant?” Teague asked, confused.

  He jammed his open hands against the many helm functions then spun about to face them. “Sir, the helm is not responding. I have no controls!”

  Driscoll looked up, as if the ship’s computer resided in the ceiling. It was as good a place as any. “Frank, what’s up with our helm controls?”

  “Working,” Frank replied. “Performing systems assessment.”

  Captain Driscoll shot a look to Ensign Blair. “Get the Chief on the line. I want to know what the hell is wrong with this ship.”

  “Captain?” Macintosh asked as he answered the hail down in the engineering section.

  “Chief, we’ve lost all power to the helm.”

  “I’ve just been made aware of it. Hopefully I can chase it down in the next couple of minutes,” Macintosh said.

  Captain Driscoll sighed on the other end. “Is there any way―”

  Everything went pitch black around him. Unlike on the bridge, even the emergency lights failed to come on. The entire engineering deck had become blacker than space and just as quiet. At least space had stars. The Chief glanced about.

  “Sir? Do you still read me?” He waited for a reply. “Bridge, this is the Chief. Are you getting this?”

  Nothing.

  One by one, points of light winked on around him as the engineering crew activated the working lights fitted to the front of their overalls. The Chief did the same.

  “Okay, people, let’s all gather over here,” he yelled and waited as the individual lights coalesced around him. “Huddle round.”

  The normally busy engineering section of the Manhattan had become eerily silent in the absence of the reactor’s comforting thrum. The kind of sound that evaded conscious thought―until it stopped. “Gather round, come on, hurry up. We’ve got a ship to fix. Right. Listen, here’s what I want you all to do…”

  Driscoll slammed a fist against the communications console. “Dammit!”

  “Lieutenant Hardy, you come with me,” Commander Teague said. She turned to Driscoll. “Captain, I’ll go and find the auxiliary power.”

  “Yes, go,” he said, calming a little following his outburst.

  Teag
ue left the bridge at a run with Hardy close behind.

  Frank spoke up, finally. Apparently the sudden loss of all power had not affected the ship’s AI. Driscoll remembered his briefing about the Manhattan and her abilities. As a security precaution, Frank had his own self-contained power source. Though where exactly that happened to be located, he could not have said.

  “Captain Driscoll, at fourteen minutes and eight seconds ago, the primary capacitor in compartment 81-C went offline.”

  All eyes turned to face him, the faces of the bridge crew glowed in the dim red emergency lighting from below, making them appear like ghouls.

  “Excuse me? Clarify what you mean by ‘went offline?’” Driscoll asked.

  “Sensors indicate that the primary capacitor was destroyed by a small explosive device,” said Frank. “Ten seconds later, a similar charge compromised the secondary capacitor causing total power systems failure.”

  “My God…” Driscoll murmured. With them both down, getting power around the ship was nigh impossible. The Capacitors were a shortfall in any Union starship. An Achilles heel. But only Union personnel knew about them. And an explosive had taken them out?

  “Frank, what sort of explosive are we talking about here?”

  “I am unable to determine the exact nature of the device at this time, Captain. Neither explosion was detected by internal security screens; therefore I predict with a ninety-eight percent degree of accuracy that the devices were shielded.”

  “How long have thossse chargesss been in place? Do you think they were inssstalled prior to launch?” Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra asked in a whisper.

  Driscoll whirled on her. “Commander, now is not the time for speculation and conspiracy mongering. I will not have this bridge become a breeding ground for dangerous gossip.”

  She bowed her head. “Understood, sir.”

  Driscoll looked at them all, one after the other as he spoke. “Right now, our priority is to get the Manhattan back up and running. The enemy is out there, and our people are fighting them. It is only a matter of time before the Draxx find us. I shouldn’t need to tell anyone what will happen to us if we’re still floating dark when they get here.”