Operation Chimera (20 page)

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.

One Draxx pulled an orbcaster rifle from his back, losing it in two pieces from the forward end of Zavex’s polearm as he pivoted it over and drove the other end into the Draxx’s snout. With a twist, he dragged the dead lizard around, in time to absorb an energy blast from another. Scales roasted to ash in an instant, leaving gloopy bits trailing from a nine-inch hole. Zavex pulled his leg up and punted the dead enemy off his weapon, launching the body into the shooter with enough force to knock him senseless.

Michael pushed away from the wall, firing wild over the heads of the other Draxx to distract them from their aim at his reckless compatriot. “Zavex, what the hell are you doing? Find cover, dammit.”

Zavex speared a chair through the back, flipped it around and hurled it at another Draxx, knocking him against the ceiling.

Right in the middle of the hallway, Michael’s path changed from sideways drift to vertical fall. He crashed into the floor and wheezed.

“Greetings, Lieutenant,” said EDEN. “I see you are participating in hand to hand combat with previously unnoticed hostile entities. I thought you would appreciate the restoration of artificial gravity.”

Michael cringed amid the clamor of a few tons of floating debris rediscovering the concept of
down
all at once. Draxx piled on top of each other, the momentary humor of the noises they made took his mind off his exposed position in the center of a corridor. As that thought reached his brain, he jumped to his feet.

“Thanks…”

The Manta trailed Aaron’s Glaive over the top of the
Lewis & Clark
, heading for Emma. She kept reversing away, peppering the modest hole her missiles made with pulse lasers. Dozens of Draxx tumbled out of the breach, floating lifeless into space.

“Oh, damn…” Liam accelerated to his ship’s full 5000 m/sec, passing Emma.

Aaron flipped his Glaive around, sliding sideways as he thumbed the hat button on his right-side stick. “Back up, Sylph. Gonna give those bastards something to worry about.”

Emma yanked the Mosquito’s nose upward, grunting through the overwhelmed inertial dampeners as she smashed the throttle forward. “Ngh, what are you doing?”

Two red diamonds overlapped on Aaron’s HUD, then shimmered and turned bright. A high-pitched steady tone sounded through his head. A pair of AFM-38 “Widow” missiles leapt from the two centerline hardpoints on the underside of his fighter. The thirteen-foot long missiles spiraled forward into Aaron’s view, straightening out before they plunged through the green shell. Three seconds later, they detonated.

The windows lit orange a split second before a shockwave caused the green mass to undulate like a squeezed airbag, cracking and deflating it. A secondary detonation shattered it into a long strip of exposed hull and Draxx parts.

Michael was starting to build a strong friendship with the floor. No sooner had he gotten up than he found himself face down once more. This time, he rolled into the wall as well, involuntarily covering his face as a tremendous shockwave rumbled through the air. The first detonation had a long rolling quality that made him think of a volley of small charges; the most recent was far more significant.

“What the hell is going on out there?” he screamed.

“This ship’s got a barnacle problem,” said Aaron. “Just cleaning it off.”

“Aaron, look out on your right side,” said Emma.

“Dammit,” Aaron yelled. “Dragon, get out of there, we have fighters coming out of the engine ports. That thing is a damn hive.”

“Lizards don’t have hives,” blurted Keg.

Liam raised his fist, but hesitated. “Be grateful you’re stable. I don’t want to spin the wheel of strange. Get in the turret.”

“On it.”

“Confirm multiple contacts,” said Liam over the comm.

Michael crawled to the bulkhead; the emergency e-suit case got him in the back when he went down that time. It hurt, but nothing was broken. He could not tell if Aaron sounded excited or worried, and he was not certain if he liked the abnormal calm in Emma’s voice. A dead Draxx, steaming trench sliced from throat to gut, slid through the open door. Zavex was alone with four hostiles. Michael leaned around the door and sighted over his sidearm.

The Draxx he had legged while floating lay on his side, angling with his pistol for a shot at Zavex. The other three surrounded him, causing the wounded one to snarl and search for a clean angle. He spotted Michael and turned at the door, firing a glob of orange energy into the wall as Michael’s laser left a smoking hole through his chest.

Zavex spun the Azsha about, mesmerizing the Draxx with the flashing blades. He feigned high and left, then reversed and took the legs of the opponent on his right off at the knees. The Draxx in front of him grabbed the polearm between Zavex’s hands, wrestling for control. Zavex spun it clockwise and leapt into the twirl, driving his thick, plated boot into the Draxx’s nose while inverted and off the ground. The impact crushed the lizard’s skull, as well as broke the neck, leaving a flat-faced mess sliding dead into the wall. Zavex landed with a heavy clank, whirling on the only remaining threat; the Azsha blurred in a brief spin into a fighting posture.

The final Draxx backed away, staring at the heat blur around the waiting blades. After two steps, he dove onto a stray orbcaster rifle, sliding behind a thick workstation barrier. Zavex spun to the rear and finished off the legless one. The reptilian gurgled as the Azsha lanced through him into the metal floor. When the remaining Draxx popped up to shoot Zavex, Michael fired twice, splattering the far wall with alien blood. The plasma rifle slipped from lifeless Draxx hands, clattering to the floor.

Zavex twirled his staff, holding it vertical. He gave it a twist and the blades snapped closed. “Few Draxx are prepared to face such a weapon. They claim to have honor, but cannot face their opponents in close combat.”

Michael kept his pistol out as he navigated around the dead, paying particular attention to the one with a flattened face. “Remind me not to bet money against you at arm wrestling.”

Draxx fighters streamed out of the dormant engine ports, a swarm of green headed for the three Terran fighters. Keg went ballistic; pulse laser fire going in all directions as he sent a three-second burst one way before swiveling around and chasing another Draxx ship for six more.

Emma streaked toward them, flying right into their midst in a whirling spiral. “Betty, full pod blow, both sides.”

“Roger, Lieutenant.”

Plasma bolts streaked past her. She jinked around, as if hugging the walls of a tube. The cloud of enemy fighters did not seem to know which way to go to avoid her. Bright flashes lit her cockpit as they fired, dark blurs rushed by as she skimmed past the larger ships.

“Sylph, what the hell are you doing?” yelled Aaron.

“Corking the hornets’ nest you kicked,” she said, as calm as if she were in class. Her fighter emerged from the far side of the cloud of enemy fighters, coming about on the engines of the
Lewis & Clark
.

Emma squeezed the secondary trigger on both sticks. The remaining rockets, eighty-five per side, launched with such a push it bled off 800 meters per second from her velocity. Two emerging Draxx fighters evaporated amid the barrage. Emma rolled and dove, her trajectory a straight line down relative to the derelict. Most of her missiles went into the old engine-turned-hangar bay, setting off a chain reaction that incinerated the aft ten percent of the vessel in a rippling series of explosions that swelled through the hull as expanding white orbs.

A handful of Kraits hopped on her tail, struggling to keep up with the faster Mosquito. Emma squinted at the rearview. She could outrun them, but in open space, it would be like duck hunting season having them on her backside. Clenching her guts in preparation for a high-g turn, she slammed on the lateral thrusters. The Mosquito pulled a one-eighty, careening rear end first for several seconds. Sweat ran down her face as she strained not to pass out until the engines compensated. As soon as the crushing inertia lessened, she tapped the “afterburners”, launching herself past the egg-shaped fighters before they could get a clean shot.

Kraits spread out in the shape of an expanding flower as the Draxx pilots took a more conservative turning strategy. By the time they collected in a group again, Emma cruised tight against the hull of the derelict.

Liam picked off three Monitors tumbling through space from the force of the explosion; searing blue neutron beams poked holes through the enemy ships as easily as an icepick through a pie.

“Six,” yelled Aaron with a cheer. He fired again. Orange light flickered through Liam’s cockpit. “Seven.”

“This ain’t a damn game,” barked Liam.

“Eleventeen,” shouted Keg.