Operation Chimera

by Tony Healey

  “Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, Betty?”

  The female AI, despite being emotionless, sounded upbeat―due only to Michael’s own projected mood. “I have the results of the scan, putting it up.”

  Six columns of numbers scrolled along the HUD, blurring by too fast to read. He traced a finger through the numbers, twisted his hand about and pulled open a graphed view. A thick blue line wavered like a streamer in the wind, every so often puffing all the way down or all the way up on a gust. He stared at it for a few minutes, analyzing the way it moved. Eventually, a pattern emerged to Michael’s consciousness. The peak wavelength of ambient signal interference began at a little over two-thousand, 2044.8 to be exact, held that for several seconds and fell into the mid-fifties before going back up. Every ten seconds, the direction of change inverted, becoming a gradual increase instead of a gradual decrease. Then, without warning, it would leap from one end to the other. If it was low it would jump into the 2k range, if it was already there, it would plummet below fifty. The dancing ribbon on the graph betrayed a predictable pattern.

  “Betty, analyze this frequency spread. Every ten seconds it seems to flip over on itself. Can you come up with a compensation pattern? Is that as predictable as it looks? What I was trying to do by adjusting the transmission was the right idea but a human can’t change it fast enough or accurately enough by hand.”

  “Processing.”

  Crackling―“Green Wing… perations officer… son Grey…esting status report…”

  “Nest, this is Green wing,” said Michael. “Repeat, Nest, this is Green Wing. We are attempting to locate you now.” He lowered his voice. “Betty, where’s that analysis?”

  “In my memory core.”

  He blinked. “Not literally. What is the progress?”

  “It will be complete in approximately… it’s done.”

  “Perfect. Apply that algorithm to modulate our outbound transmissions, and use it as a subtractive filter to incoming communication.”

  “Working.”

  “How long unti―”

  “Done.”

  “Nest, this is Green Wing, are you there?”

  Michael ceased breathing as he stared at the CCS, waiting. It chirped; the wonderful word from before disappeared, replaced by an even better one: Updating.

  “Betty, transmit that algorithm to the remainder of Green Wing on a short range closed channel.” Michael glanced at the row of holograms. “Attention Green Wing. My Betty is transmitting a software module now, enable it and link it to your communications system as soon as you get it.”

  One by one, four green diamonds appeared in the lower left corner of the screen.

  “Green Wing, we are back!” roared Michael.

  “Yes!” cheered Liam, pounding the console.

  “Praise Vas’una.”

  “Never doubted you, Keg,” said Aaron, earning a moment of silence.

  “Lieutenant Summers? This is Commander Ellison Grey, are you receiving? We lost you on sensors. What happened out there?”

  “Copy that, sir. Glad to be back. We had enemy contact, signal interference from the nebula blocked us off.”

  “All fighter wings, return to the Manhattan immediately. We have inbound Draxx capital ships and are preparing for an emergency jump.”

  “Jump? Not going to make a stand?” asked Aaron, on a wing-only channel.

  Liam gasped. “How did they find us?”

  Michael traded places with Emma at the nose of the diamond. “Operations, what is the situation around the Manhattan? What are we flying into?”

  “Green Wing,” said a woman’s voice, “The carrier experienced an unexplained loss of functionality to several critical systems as well as primary power.”

  “Summers, this is Commander Grey, please explain why you are coming through loud and clear and other wings are garbled.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, that may be intelligence we do not want intercepted on comms. I’ll brief you when we get back.”

  “This better be good, Summers.” His voice muted as if he covered his microphone with one hand. “Kim, keep transmitting return to bay to the rest of the wings.” Grey’s voice returned to full volume. “We have sensor contact with three Draxx capital ships, two frigates and a battlecruiser. The Chimera effect is playing havoc with our tactical readiness; this is not a fight we can withstand right now.”

  “Understood, sir. Alright, Green Wing, you heard the man. Time to take it in.”

  With confidence in their heading, they accelerated to the highest speed Liam could squeeze out of the Manta. Several seconds passed, and three red dots appeared on the CCS, about seventy thousand kilometers to the right and a little upward from where the Manhattan’s icon was. The carrier changed facing, heading toward Green Wing to help them get back faster.

  The chill in Emma’s voice was gone, she sounded happy. “Want me to scout ahead?”

  Michael grinned. “Negative, stay here where the men can protect you.”

  “Oh, now you’re a comedian,” she said, squinting. The audible sarcasm held off true anger. “Was that a backhanded yes?”

  “If I tell you to stay in formation now, you’ll feel condescended to.”

  “Not if you can give me a tactically sound reason beyond what’s on my chest,” said Emma.

  “What does her name badge have to do with anything,” asked Keg.

  Everyone laughed.

  “Well, after surviving getting that close to a Draxx Python, I imagine there isn’t much you couldn’t handle. However, I’d prefer if you stayed close, just in case another Krait gets on Hunter’s tail.”

  Everyone except one laughed.

  ith the order given for all fighters to return home, Driscoll’s full attention was on the task at hand. One wrong move, and there’d be no barn for the horses to bolt back to.

  “Keep monitoring comms,” he said to S’lestra. “We leave no-one behind.”

  “Underssstood, Captain.”

  The Manhattan’s main guns, mounted around the entire edge of the ship, rotated to face the Draxx. Lieutenant Brooke brought the weapons to bear on the lead Draxx ship, and opened fire. The projectiles acted like nail bombs: upon detonation they sent thousands of miniature armor-piercing projectiles that sprayed the enemy vessels in bursts. The Draxx shields fizzled and spat at the continuous, multiple impacts. The Manhattan’s cannons threw chaos, the likes of which no Draxx had ever experienced before when confronting a Union vessel. The Manhattan was a test bed for numerous new technologies, not least of all its weaponry.

  “Damage?” Driscoll asked.

  “Minor, sir. We’re not getting past their shielding, though they’re weakening,” Brooke said.

  “Not good enough,” Driscoll said to nobody in particular. “Load tubes one and two.”

  Brooke worked to switch the guns to automatic control and load the forward missile tubes at the same time. “I’m turning the guns over to Frank.”

  “Understood.”

  With the AI in control of the guns, the streams focused into a tighter array. Attempting to aim so many individual turrets was more than a human mind could handle. Deep within the ship’s computer system, a dozen subordinate processes spawned. Each took control of a turret as though it had its own personal operator.

  “Birds in the tubes,” Brooke reported, hand braced on the release.

  “Lieutenant Hardy, full left rudder. Bring us about one-eight-zero, switch to one quarter thrusters,” Driscoll ordered. “Mister Brooke, target the vessel nearest us and fire when ready.”

  “Aye.”

  Brooke depressed the release. Two duotronic missiles flared away from the bow of the Manhattan, spiraling toward the closest of the three Draxx ships. The first spent its velocity and payload against the energy shield. However, the second broke through, and impacted the hull.

  The explosion ripped a gigantic hole in the front quarter of the Draxx capital ship, spewing material and debris out into space.


  “Direct hit with number two!” Brooke cheered.

  “Good job,” Driscoll said.

  Lieutenant Hardy allowed the Manhattan to continue to drift about for a second, before he fired the engines and took them to one-quarter power. The Manhattan lurched forward; again, the internal systems took a few seconds to accommodate the change in inertia.

  “The Draxx have opened fire,” Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra reported.

  Here it comes, Driscoll thought.

  “Draxx warheads incoming,” Brooke said. “Eight seconds…”

  Hardy barely paused for breath as his hands worked the helm. “Pitching to port.”

  Driscoll grabbed a safety bar overheard, held on tight. “Brace for impact.”

  Hardy’s quick thinking spared them a few of the hits. But the rest of the Draxx warheads struck the Manhattan’s side, slamming into the hull plating.

  The ship shook.

  Commander Teague returned to the bridge as the lights flickered on and off.

  “Captain, how bad was the hit?” she asked.

  “Port side. Packed quite a wallop,” Driscoll told her. “Helm, increase to full. Orient us to push through.”

  “But, sir,” Hardy said, even as he did what he was ordered to do. “If they don’t move out of the way…”

  “Do it, Lieutenant. Full speed, right at them. Brooke, load tubes three through five, and give them one apiece.”

  “Aye,” Brooke said. Again, he readied himself.

  Driscoll’s jaw set with determination. On the viewscreen, the Draxx vessels slid into view until they were on a collision path. Under full power, they grew larger at a frightening pace. The Draxx ships broke ranks, plunging into desperate maneuvers to evade collision. They barely had time to move clear. They were seconds from colliding.

  “Helm, full stop! Braking thrusters!” Driscoll yelled.

  Hardy cut the engines, and fired the forward brakes. Everyone on the bridge was thrown forward. The Manhattan groaned.

  “Structural integrity compromised.” Frank’s voice filtered through the din of emergency alarms wailing around them.

  “Weapons, launch all birds!” Driscoll shouted. The Manhattan took several hits from the Draxx capital ships scrambling to evade. The mighty vessel rocked from the barrage.

  “Birds away!” Brooke said.

  The missiles hurtled from the Manhattan and split, each headed for a different ship.

  Frank continued to fire the main guns. “Cease fire, Frank,” Driscoll ordered.

  “Yes, Captain.”

  The internal thunder of the Manhattan’s guns ceased throughout the ship as they were silenced.

  “Direct hit on two of them,” Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra reported. “Secondary hit on another.”

  “Move us out, but stick tight,” Driscoll said. “Don’t give them too much room. The Manhattan is a hefty girl. Her size is our biggest disadvantage. We benefit from close-quarters combat. She responds well to sudden shifts in orientation and speed, despite her size. Let’s make the most of that.”

  Commander Teague leaned toward Ensign Blair and Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra. “Is there anything we can do to resume contact with our people out there?”

  “The comm is fried, Ma’am,” Ensign Blair said.

  “This region isss completely disssrupting all communicationsss in and out. I don’t sssee a way around it.”

  Teague looked away in thought for a moment, then realization dawned. “What about ascertaining the frequency of the disruption in the surrounding space and attempting to match it? See if there’s a pattern to it, and try to anticipate it.”

  S’lestra’s mouth hung agape, tongue flicking at her teeth as she considered her proposal. “Yesss, it could work. Why didn’t we think of it before?”

  “Because it’s never been attempted before. And no Union ship’s come this far into the Cluster until now. What if we had the AI cycle through every known frequency all at once? Sure there’d be some lag, but at least we’d be able to make contact,” Teague explained.

  “Get to work,” S’lestra said, patting Ensign Blair’s seat. “Here, I’ll help you construct the sssequenssser.”

  Teague slapped them both on the shoulder. “Keep me posted. Even if we can’t contact outside space, at least we might be able to talk to our fighters.”

  Lieutenant Hardy felt the Captain’s presence behind him, but didn’t turn his head to check. He glanced sideward at Cochrane, busy dealing with the shifting positions of the three Draxx capital ships.

  “Lieutenant, duck in close to that one there,” Driscoll ordered, pointing past him at the viewscreen. Ahead of them, one Draxx ship moved off to the right. Another was about to speed over them. Driscoll pointed to the turning ship. “Close as you can get. Right under their belly.”

  “Aye, sir!” Hardy snapped, focused on the task at hand. He was more than impressed with the way she’d handled his vigorous maneuvers so far. “Closing to one hundred meters.”

  “Closer. I want to reach out and give ‘em a tickle,” Driscoll said, and walked off.

  The Captain stood next to Lieutenant Brooke. “Resume manual control of the guns. Aim at the underbelly and fire everything we have. Tear ‘em a new one.”

  “Yes, sir,” Brooke said. He wiped sweat from his brow.

  As it should be. Driscoll moved away. War is a sweaty business.

  “Closing in, sir,” Hardy said through gritted teeth. “Sixty meters.”

  “Fire!” Driscoll said.

  Brooke let rip with the Manhattan’s guns, releasing a steady stream of deadly rain that shredded the underside of the Draxx vessel into a glimmering rain of metal shards. Sporadic explosions flared through the hull every so often as the behemoth slid over the upper edge of the viewscreen. Lieutenant Hardy sent the Manhattan into a dive, her aft section barely clearing the now powerless enemy hulk.

  “Yes!” Brooke cried, a big smile on his face.

  Driscoll laid a hand on his shoulder. “Easy, son. We’re not in the clear yet.”

  Hardy brought them around. The other two Draxx capitol ships had circled back.

  “Port ssside ssship firing,” S’lestra said.

  “Brace for impact!” Commander Teague yelled as the Draxx warheads struck the Manhattan broadside. The massive vessel rumbled from the impact. The lights flickered, then returned to full strength.

  “They’re hitting back,” Driscoll said under his breath.

  Commander Teague drew close. “With them pounding us from both sides, the hull plating won’t last, sir.”

  The Captain glanced at the viewscreen, at the two Draxx ships closing in.

  “Orders, sir?” Brooke asked from the weapons station.

  Driscoll thought for a second… then grinned.

  f memory serves, the Manhattan’s garbage chutes are located along the topside of the vessel, angled a few degrees to aft,” Driscoll said, walking from one side of the bridge to the other, arms crossed. “Correct?”

  “Yes…” Commander Teague said.

  The chutes regularly ejected the ship’s general waste and hazardous materials―whatever couldn’t be safely re-sequenced and used in another capacity was let loose into the cosmos.

  “And there are six of them in total, yes?” Driscoll asked.

  Commander Teague nodded.

  “Excellent. Contact the Munitions sergeant; tell her I want one missile loaded into each chute, mixed in with the garbage. They are to be set for remote detonation only,” he said. “And no engines. They’re to drift away, undetected.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Teague said, and got to it.

  Driscoll turned to Ensign Blair. “Get on the horn to engineering. Here’s what I want you to tell them…”

  The Manhattan shouldered another hit from the Draxx. The hull plating absorbed the blast, though the aftershock rumbled all throughout the ship.

  “He wants to do what?” Chief Macintosh asked.

  Ensign Ne’ho held t
he comm. earpiece against his auditory sensors with one hand. “Bridge requests we get ready to shut down.”

  Macintosh rolled his eyes. “Give me that,” he said and took the piece from Ne’ho. “What’s the order, you say? You do realize I’ve just got this tub back up and running…”

  He listened as the order was repeated and explained in more detail, then nodded once. “Aye.”

  Ensign Ne’ho took the earpiece back. “Sir?” he asked.

  Chief Macintosh’s eyebrow rose to a peak as he shook his head, “He’s out of his mind. Absolutely out of his bloody mind…”

  Ensign Blair looked up. “Done, Ma’am.”

  Teague looked at Captain Driscoll. “We’re all set, sir.”

  “Good,” Driscoll said. He steadied himself against a nearby bulkhead as another wave of incoming Draxx fire caused the room to shift. The third, now no more than a hulk, cartwheeled uselessly to stern.

  “They’re coming back around,” Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra said.

  Driscoll turned to the helmsman. “Hardy, raise the bow by ninety degrees. Give them plenty to shoot at. I want them to get a few good shots in.”

  The helmsman’s face was ashen with shock. “Sir?”

  “You heard me,” Driscoll said. He turned back to weapons. “Lieutenant Brooke, divert all power allocated to hull plating to the topside only. It needs to take whatever they throw at us.”

  “Y-y-yes, Captain,” the Lieutenant stared for a second.

  Teague asked in a low voice, “Are you sure about this, Captain?”

  “As I said, Commander,” Driscoll said, his face dead set. “Trust me.”

  She nodded without saying another word.

  “Commander, contact Grey and tell him I want bombers out there,” Driscoll said, “let’s cause a bit more chaos.”

  “On it,” Teague said as she stepped back over to the communications station and relayed his wishes to Blair. “Order confirmed.”

  “The Draxx ships are taking positions on top of us, sir,” Brooke reported. “Their weapons are coming to bear.”