Operation Chimera

by Tony Healey

  rifting in silence, Green Wing had lost all communications with the Manhattan. Despite several minutes’ worth of work, and several threats, Michael received only static from the console. Emma studied the outline of the derelict, aghast at the amount of force necessary to snap such a thing in half. Debris floated near the break, but her attention focused on a faint light toward the rear, just below the engine ports.

  Keg ducked through a purpose-built iris door in the rear of the Manta’s cockpit, and soon emerged outside the fighter. He drifted out over the wing, surveying the damage. After a trip back to the tiny airlock, the bot set about doing field repairs.

  The flickering light from the arc welder on Keg’s third arm glimmered through Michael’s cockpit. His finger tapped a dead screen as he considered the reason for the loss of communication. They had not gone that far away from the carrier. By distance alone, they should not have been out of touch. If the problem was signal interference from the nebula, why had it just started now? Perhaps it was a migratory cloud, some manner of energized storm that will pass.

  “Lieutenant?”

  Michael looked up at the sound of the placid female voice. “What is it, Betty?”

  One of the small screens on the left side presented an image of the Lewis & Clark. “We are receiving an inbound communication request from the damaged vessel. It is using an older encryption modality that is no longer in use by Terran forces.”

  “Okay, let’s have it.”

  A thin blue line stretched across the smallest screen at the top left corner of his console, immediately to the side of the short-range spatial map. It warbled in the manner of an oscilloscope as a bored male voice came through with a lot of interference.

  “―dentify yourselves. Your craft bear Terran mar… no recognized ship designs.”

  “This is Lieutenant Michael Summers of the Terran Fleet, please state your identity.”

  “I am EDEN 2.2 Experimental Digital Entity.”

  “Whoa, hold on,” said Liam. “They didn’t have AIs back when this ship was launched. They had Kegs.”

  “What?” Keg swiveled away from his welding. “Did someone call me?”

  “Nothing, carry on.” Liam saluted the droid.

  “Oh, very well.” The droid maneuvered another panel into place with his arms, and resumed welding.

  “You’d think they could have mounted that welder in a better place,” said Liam, chuckling. “It looks like he’s doing something obscene to the wing.”

  Aaron laughed.

  The blue line blurred, the cadence of the voice went up and down, not fitting any emotion to the words. “I am experimental. This ship is experimental. My existence was not public knowledge.”

  “Are you self-aware?” asked Michael.

  “I am,” replied the voice. “Though I do not possess what you would refer to as a personality. My function was to maintain the ship’s systems and record data from tests.”

  “What sort of tests?” asked Emma, still staring at the engines.

  EDEN paused for a moment. “That is classified.”

  “Jump drives,” said Michael. “They were testing hyperspace travel with this ship. It never came back from the first run.”

  “How do you know this? This information was―”

  “Classified, yeah I got that.” Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Calculate the current year, Eden. You’ve been adrift for eighty-six or so years. You are a Terran ship. We are Terran pilots. The Lewis & Clark’s disappearance is well documented.”

  “I now understand why your hull designs are not recognized. Adding to database, one moment.”

  Michael, Aaron, and Liam, being in a straight line across from each other, exchanged incredulous glances.

  “Eden,” said Zavex, “we are reading a life sign aboard. What is the status of the individual?”

  Silence.

  “Guess those old databases are slow.” Emma sighed into the mic.

  “Update completed. Query received. Error, system damage is preventing access to medical bay. Parsing logs, please stand by.”

  Everyone, except Emma out in front, found Keg’s work on the wing fascinating over the next several quiet minutes. When he drifted back through the airlock, they tried again to raise the Manhattan with little result.

  Keg glided into the cockpit, coated in frost. “Will you look at this? Huh? What am I supposed to do with this?” A small gripper hand gestured at his body.

  “Condensation. It’ll melt.” Liam used his green shamrock travel mug to avoid touching the sub-zero droid, pushing him back into the co-pilot’s station.

  “I swear, they ain’t got no respect for lil’ old me. I put in almost seventy years with this outfit, and what do I get for it?”

  “Keg?”

  “Yo?”

  “Did you bang your head on the way in?”

  “Look, pal. I’m a damn box. I don’t have a head so just knock it off with the discrim―”

  Liam hit him with the mug.

  Keg swiveled to face him, grabbing at the places that would have been a head if he did not have the shape of a beer fridge. “What was that? Did you hit me again?”

  “Yes, you went loopy.”

  “Oh.” He floated into the co-pilot seat, and joined the others in trying to get the Manhattan on comms. “Sorry about that. Loose board or something I guess.”

  “Log parse completed,” said EDEN.

  Everyone jumped, and then stared at the scrolling blue line. Liam traced his fingers over the screen. Emma leaned closer. Zavex paused breathing, and even Aaron gazed with rapt fascination.

  “Preliminary test diagnostics indicated all systems functional. Captain Obadiah gave the order to initiate transit into hyperspace. For reasons I am unable to determine, only forty-four percent of the ship entered hyperspace. The forward section remained behind. Eden lost contact with the bridge following this event. I estimate that the crew casualty rate is ‘high’ as a result of the malfunction.”

  Michael, Liam, and Aaron exchanged another glance.

  “So you have no idea what’s still alive in there?” asked Michael.

  “Sensors are offline. I can confirm that the infirmary module still has power and ninety-seven percent of this section of hull has retained atmospheric conditions.”

  Emma broke into the conversation. “If someone’s still alive in there, we have to get them out.”

  “I agree,” said Zavex. “The survivor could have been one of the design engineers. They may have valuable information.”

  Aaron grimaced. “Or it could be a janitor, a saboteur that knew the test would malfunction, or someone who’s sick and was already in the infirmary.”

  “I doubt a saboteur would have stuck around for the finale,” said Michael. “Zavex, you up for a little walk?”

  “Right behind you, Dragon.”

  “Everyone else, stay alert. We’re not planning to window shop. Betty, give me a local map with a route plot to the infirmary.”

  “One moment, Lieutenant,” said Betty.

  The left and rear Glaives fell out of formation, taking a long curve to the underbelly of the stricken titan. Aaron pulled abreast of the Manta, giving Liam a nod. Michael slipped forward in his seat as he decelerated once the gargantuan wall of metal passed overhead, replacing the endless black with greenish metal ‘sky.’ He grumbled at the flat, paneled surface.

  “Lieutenant, the shuttle bay on this vessel was amidships and accessible from the sides. It was on the section that presumably no longer exists. My recommendation would be to enter via the hull breach at the forward end.”

  “Thanks, Betty.” Michael turned his ship in line with the wreck. “Zavex, we’re going for the break. Shuttle bay is vaped.”

  He left the derelict above him, ignoring the sensation of flying upside down ten meters off the ground. They swerved around communication relays, cargo pods, and floating debris. Once clear of the end, they cut speed and pulled up. Michael flipped his Glaive abo
ut, pointing it at the open hollow and coming to a dead stop in comparison to the wreckage. Zavex’s ship eased alongside. Both men stared into the hollow cavity where humankind’s first attempt at hyperspace travel failed. Thousands of bits of flotsam drifted through the gaping, twisted metal. At least one or two body parts joined the cloud of fragments, e-tablets, mugs, and furniture.

  “There, low right. We should be able to settle in if we’re careful.” Michael nosed his fighter through the breach, guiding it to a gentle landing.

  He broke out in a sweat when the ship’s weight shifted a few seconds later and the room tilted. Sensing no further movement, he let go of the stick and tapped a few buttons on his left forearm. Segmented plates extended upward, over his neck, and linked to his helmet, sealing it. A few seconds later, the reassuring hiss of atmospheric pressure filled his ears. A light on the console went orange as the fighter reclaimed the air inside the cockpit, leaving him in vacuum.

  “Zavex, I don’t care what that AI said, don’t break e-seal in there. We have no idea what might be floating around.”

  “Roger.”

  Both canopies opened at the same time, Michael flipped over the side and used his handgrip to guide himself to the storage compartment on the side of the nose. He grabbed an emergency e-suit and flipped the panel closed before pushing off the fighter and gliding alongside Zavex. The Talnurian swatted a floating chair, sending it spinning off into a dark bowl-shaped indentation in the floor.

  “That was where the hyperspace engine used to be.”

  Zavex paused to stare. “The parabolic bowl in the floor is for what purpose?”

  “The floor was originally flat.”

  “I do not think these people felt anything.” Zavex shook his head.

  Michael slung the e-suit case over his shoulder on a strap and held his hands out as if he were grabbing flight controls. His flight suit sensed his gesture, and the reaction control system activated. Precise puffs of compressed air hissed out of his shoulders, back, and boots, launching him in a calculated drift for an internal door. Zavex followed.

  The access panel flashed an evacuation alert, indicating that all personnel should find the nearest escape pod. According to the screen, EDEN had issued the order eight hours after the event due to ‘safety protocols’ when the Captain had failed to do it. As a result of the abandon ship order, all of the internal doors’ security was disabled.

  He clung to the surface, shifting to put his visor over the tiny window. More objects floated in the hallway inside, among an unknown number of ghosts. Michael closed his eyes, trying to ignore the urge to wipe at the sweat trickling down the side of his head. If I go, please let it be in a fighter.

  “You ok, Dragon?” Zavex put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Yeah. I just have this thing about being on an aluminum can hurtling through space. If something goes wrong, really wrong, there’s nowhere to go.”

  “Let us honor the spirits of this place by preventing at least one more death.”

  Michael glanced at him. “You believe in ghosts?”

  The gold sheen on Zavex’s visor hid whatever face he made, but his smile was audible in his voice. “My sister is one of the Ra’ala”―the translator said priests―“she calls upon the spirits for aid.”

  “Yeah.” He looked back at the door and pounded the open button. “Maybe she’ll say a prayer for us.”

  Sensing impending disaster, Zavex seized Michael by the arm and hauled him out of the way an instant before the door opened. The air trapped in the hallway blasted forth; a shotgun of office furniture, e-tablets, and random small objects flew into space. Michael hit the wall hard, grunting.

  “Damn, I gotta stay focused. Thanks.”

  Zavex nodded.

  With microbursts from their RCS maneuvering jets guiding them along, they entered the hallway. A roaring screech came in intermittent gasps, the sound waves rode gusts of escaping air―audible only when they stood in a large enough pocket of it. Zavex closed the door behind them, and the noise became weaker and less sporadic. Michael grabbed at the gleaming metal walls, pulling himself forward in short jumps from bulkhead to bulkhead.

  “Betty? Where’s that map?”

  An amber wireframe stretched out in front of him, then shrank into a five by seven inch mini-display drawn on his visor. A green line traced through the image, leading the way to a dot. Two blue triangles showed their estimated position.

  “Share this with the Wing, Betty.”

  “Done, Lieutenant.”

  “Looks like you got about a hundred sixty or so yards to go,” said Liam.

  Michael pulled hard on the next bulkhead, throwing himself forward. “Yeah. I’m tryin’ not to dawdle.”

  While Aaron and Liam hovered at a relative standstill compared to the Lewis & Clark, Emma accelerated. She dove toward the low end of the nose, swinging around to get a look inside.

  “Where are you going, Sylph? Don’t break formation.”

  “Bother that, Hunter.” Emma flew around the broken end to the far side. “If there are more Draxx out here, I can outrun them. He said to keep our eyes open, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I don’t want to get surprised again.”

  “Gonna change your name to Rabbit,” said Liam. “You g’won, get ‘em to chase ya back ta me and Abner here, we’ll shoot ‘em up real good.”

  Keg rotated to face Liam. “Abner? Was that a reference to me? Clearly, your attempt to recreate an antiquated Earth dialect has failed.”

  Liam cracked up laughing.

  Emma steered around the edge, gliding distant to get a wider-angle view of the ship. From here, a strange biological-looking mass became evident on the port side. Dark green and lumpy, it looked as though some manner of mold had grown out of the immense engines. Curious, she throttled down and let momentum drift her closer.

  Ladder shafts were fun. Michael paused for just a moment to cancel all sideways motion and then flung himself down. The navigation line pulled an S curve: straight, then down two levels, then straight again. He caught himself on the ladder at the desired floor, and kicked off the wall to glide through a pair of sliding doors.

  “It’s amazing this thing still has power, given the extent of the damage.”

  “Yeah, no feces,” said Zavex.

  Michael laughed. Zavex’s opaque gold visor wasted another facial expression.

  This hallway was darker and wider than the first; shaped like an inverted trapezoid, the walls sloped inward from the ceiling, becoming narrower at the floor. Rather than solid ground, they walked over hundreds of removable gratings above wire-runs and other pipes.

  “Looks like we’re in an engineer’s duct.”

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” said Betty. “The normal route of approach to the infirmary is blocked off by a malfunctioning tube lift as well as unidentified debris.”

  Just about fifty meters later, the green line swerved to the right. The hallway kept going, likely the entire length of the ship, but they followed the guide down a short offshoot to a heavy blast door. Michael floated up to it, elbowing the button.

  The Mosquito glided to within twenty meters of the strange mass. Emma tapped at her console, cycling through one scanning mode after another. Each time, the system spat back “unknown composition.” She grumbled, flying in close enough to throw a ball and hit it. Forty meters of it clung to the side of the Lewis & Clark, a tumor of glistening green and brown, alive―or at least secreted from something that was. Every so often, at intervals too regular to be chanced, translucent amber dots were arranged in a neat row. She jumped at a dark blur that moved inside of one of the dots.

  “Dragon, do you copy?”

  Michael stepped through the dark gunmetal-blue doors as Emma’s voice came over the comm. “Copy, Sylph. Status?”

  He rounded a left corner a few meters later, and came face to face with six Draxx warriors attempting to operate some manner of holographic communicator. The illusionary head of an elder Draxx, scarred a
nd burned, snarled as it regarded him. Michael glanced left, at Zavex, as the translator torc murmured something inaudible through the helmet.

  “He wants to know if you fancy Earl Grey or English Breakfast,” said Zavex.

  The Draxx blinked at the two men; surprise mutual.

  “There’s some kind of bio-matter growing on the outside of the hull.” Emma gasped. “I think there are Draxx inside it.”

  Michael reached for his sidearm. “Let me confirm that.”

  mma was close enough to make eye contact with the alien looking at her through what she now realized was a window. The Draxx had built―perhaps grown―an outpost here. She swung the nose of the Mosquito toward the window, strafing the region with pulse laser fire. Black pockmarks tracked over it, inflicting little more than cosmetic damage. She reversed, gliding backwards while arming the dumb-fire rocket pods.

  “Tell, Hunter, need you at my location sharpish, we have a problem.”

  She squeezed the triggers on both flight sticks, launching a flurry of three-inch diameter rockets into the organic mass. The first several explosions launched great irregular pieces of six-inch thick matter away in slabs. The tail end of the barrage went inside.

  Distant explosions knocked Michael, and all but one of the Draxx, spinning about. Their holographic superior turned into a lizard-shaped cloud of static and white noise for an instant before he faded to darkness. Zavex kept his balance, pulling his Azsha out of the sling on his back. A gleam flashed across the three-foot metal rod as he spun it about and held it with both hands. With a twist, the ends elongated and sprouted curved blades. Within seconds, the edges took on a glow as the vibro-inducers heated them.

  Michael bounced off the wall with his chest, wishing he had spent more time working on one-handed RCS control. He managed to put two blasts into the cluster of colliding Draxx before he drifted out of sight behind the bulkhead. Green blood glopped out of one, forming undulating spheres.