Operation Chimera (29 page)

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.”

“Good for them,” Driscoll said. “Any word from Munitions, Commander?”

Robin Teague stepped away from the communications station, where Ensign Blair had just checked in with both Munitions and Engineering. “Everything is set, sir.”

“Draxx are opening fire,” Brooke said.

“Everybody, brace for impact,” Driscoll said. The Draxx projectiles punched, hammered and beat the top of the
Manhattan
.

Bet those reptiles think I’m crazy, too, giving them such an easy target.

The
Manhattan
rocked under the barrage, smoke rising from a science station next to the helm. Ensign Cochrane was the first there with a fire extinguisher, dousing it to stop a full-fledged fire from breaking out. The atmospheric filters whined to life, sucking up the acrid smell of burning plastic and fried circuit boards. An emergency klaxon wailed around them.

“Ship defenses compromised.” Frank’s sudden blurt made Driscoll jump. “Dorsal hull plating strength reduced to twenty-one percent.”

“Shut that bloody thing off!” Driscoll yelled.

“The alarm or the computer?” Teague shouted back.

Captain Driscoll paused, let the question hang in the air for a second, then said, “Both, I guess.”

irect hits from bombers,” Teague said. “They’re swinging about for another pass at them.”

“Enemy vessels targeting bombers,” Brooke reported.

“Supply them with cover fire,” Driscoll ordered.

“Aye,” Brooke said.

The Manhattan came to life once more, Brooke coordinating the action of her weapons to buy the bombers some time for another run.

“They’re switching to target us again,” Brooke said.

Driscoll grinned absurdly.

Excellent.

Munitions Chief Petty Officer 3 Lucy Armitage oversaw the handballing of warheads to the chutes. It still seemed a barmy thing to ask, to stuff powerful explosives in amongst the rubbish…

“Last one?” she asked.

Airman Lesley watched the last one go, carried out by two officers. “Yes, Chief. It’s rather peculiar, in my opinion.”

“I’ve never seen it tried, that’s for sure,” Armitage said with a smirk.

At such short notice, they’d not had a chance to load the warheads onto anti-grav platforms. It had become a case of manually transferring them from the munitions section.

But her people had gotten the job done.

“Airman, get up there for me and just make sure they’re setting them as I said. The last thing we need is a slip-up now.”

“Aye,” Lesley said and followed the last warhead on its way to the garbage chutes.

There was silence on the bridge. No alarms, no klaxons, just the crew waiting patiently for what was to come―their imminent destruction, or an intrepid show of competence on the part of their Captain.

The Draxx had paused in their bombardment of the
Manhattan
.

“At last, we get some quiet,” Driscoll said. “Now, Ensign Blair. Tell Munitions to take out the trash.”

“Aye,” she said and relayed the message.

Driscoll faced forward. “S’lestra, let Engineering know we need to go dark. Shut it down. We need to play dead.”

“Yesss, sssir.”

He had Lieutenant Hardy change the perspective of the viewscreen to show the top of the
Manhattan
, looking back toward the engines. Six holes opened along the hull, where the Draxx weapons had left black streaks. Out of the chutes, a steady stream of garbage and waste sprayed into space―in the path of both Draxx ships.

Everything went dark, light replaced by minimal illumination a moment later as the reserves kicked in to power the bridge and other essential systems. Driscoll may have felt rusty about the exact location of certain things on the
Manhattan
, but one thing he was certain of was that she functioned like every other Union vessel. He knew what she was capable of, and in the event of a shutdown, the reserves would provide power to certain systems and functions.

The bridge. Engines. Hull plating…

Weapons.

“We are now adrift,” Lieutenant Hardy said. “Fifteen percent spin along our horizontal axis.”

“Nicely done. A big ol’ dead fish. Hardy, roll us over. Maneuvering jets only. Weapons, I want every available ounce of reserve power shifted to the hull plating on the
Manhattan
’s belly.”

“Yes, sir,” Brooke said as Hardy induced enough spin to roll the ship. Driscoll imagined a gigantic whale turning beneath the surface of the water, exposing its underbelly to the elements. “Done.”

“Location of the trash we just dumped in their direction?” Driscoll asked.

Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra checked. “Tracking. Ssstarting to ssstrike their hull now, sssir.”

“Change viewscreen to show the enemy,” Driscoll said.

Hardy did as he was told. Above them, the two Draxx had crossed paths, shifting positions. Driscoll knew why they’d not continued to fire. They thought the
Manhattan
was dead in the water. He knew the Draxx; knew they would rather board her and take them prisoner. Raid the stores and data banks. Perhaps commandeer the ship itself. Any or all of that. The garbage colliding harmlessly against their hulls right now was a mere annoyance.

He doubted they had questioned why the ship’s waste had been dumped at that specific moment.

They’re cold blooded reptiles, after all
.
They can’t improvise. They follow their instincts, right to the grave.

“Mister Brooke, please detonate the garbage,” the Captain said calmly. He watched the viewscreen, as if he were observing a passing stellar nursery.

Everyone held their breath as Brooke tapped a few buttons, hesitated for a split second, and pushed the big one on the side. The viewscreen shimmered with pulses, jade clouds of energy rippled through the trash. The Draxx capital ship to the right was blown sideward by two of the missiles exploding, but remained very much in one piece.

The ship on the left was hit by four of the missiles. The bridge crew shielded their eyes as it burst apart, hot as a sun. A shockwave of plasma and burning hull debris buffeted the
Manhattan
, fizzling against the charged hull plating.

In the glare of its hellish light, Captain Driscoll grinned from ear to ear.

“Helm, bring us about,” he ordered. “Lieutenant-Commander S’lestra, tell the Chief he can fire her up again. I want repair teams to attend impacted areas.”

“Aye.”

The
Manhattan
veered away from the rapidly expanding globe of energy that had moments before been a Draxx capital ship.

“Weapons, locate that third ship,” Driscoll ordered, unrelenting.