Operation Chimera (30 page)

ichael squinted at a sudden bright light. An orb of white and yellow spread outward from a distant point, preceded by a horizontal ring of plasma. Against the expanding field, the
Manhattan
stood out in silhouette. Green Wing stared in momentary awe at the widening nova. The energy sphere collapsed into itself, leaving the ring to stretch outward to its oblivion.

Emma’s hesitant voice broke the silence. “Was that a star dying?”

“That, my dear Sylph, is what it really looks like when a capital ship’s reactor goes off,” said Liam. “Not quite the same as the sim graphics, is it?”

She looked to her right, at the Manta thirty meters off her starboard wing. “But you’re just out of the academy.”

“You don’t have to be a fighter pilot to witness a ship explode. I was on an evacuation shuttle from Thebes-IV, the Draxx… well, you can imagine. They torpedoed the hospital ship before we got to it. Let’s just say I was close enough to get a real good look.”

“I’m sorry,” said Michael.

“Don’t be.” The sound of Liam tapping his finger on the console filled a few seconds of silence. “I didn’t have family there or anything, just co-workers. That’s when I decided to join the Fleet.”

The energy pulse reached Green Wing, disrupting their screens for a fraction of a second with static.

“Mayday, Mayday, this is Piranha Squadron. Mole’s been hit, his ship’s not responding, there’s Draxx everywhere.”

Emma’s grip tightened on the flight sticks. “Dragon, that’s my roommate, Caiomhe. I… just met her.”

“Tell’s already shot up, we’ve been roaming around for hours…”

Michael gripped the flight stick tighter. “We haven’t been out here any longer than the rest of the pilots, Hunter.”

The CCS relayed the distress call, a bright yellow circle blinked around the four bombers in Piranha Squadron. Above the second in the formation, a red flashing 67% called attention to significant damage.

“Operations, this is Green Wing, we have visual on the
Manhattan
. We are moving to assist Piranha.”

“Copy that, Green. Make it quick, we’re getting out of here.”

“Any problem with that, Hunter?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ll get on the turret,” said Keg with a glum resignation. If his arms had been long enough to reach, they would have dragged along the ground.

“What the heck is wrong with you now?” asked Liam.

“All that work to get back to the
Manhattan
and we’re going to die before we can dock.”

“Keg? Do me a favor and fly as fast as you can into the wall.”

The droid shrugged, seeing no harm in following the order.

Clank.

He wobbled away from the wall, the LEDs on his ‘face’ scrambled into a wide-eyed berserker’s smile. “Awright, More Draxx to kill. Let’s do this, people!” screamed Keg over the comm.

Michael throttled up. “Weapons free, weapons free. Fire at will. Break formation at eight thousand meters. Sylph, you’re with me. Zavex, Hunter, pair off. Liam, hang back here and do what you do best.”

Liam slowed, letting the rest of the formation slide around and over him. The Manta’s advanced targeting system already identified twenty-three separate targets surrounding Piranha Squadron.

“Keg, let’s throw some spears.”

“Awesome,” roared the droid, who sang as he slapped at the console.

One by one, small green diamonds raced across the HUD, each guided by Liam or Keg to an identified Draxx fighter harassing the heavy bombers. When eighteen of them had been locked, Liam smashed his fist on the fire button with a loud cowboy whoop.

“Incoming!”

The Manta’s silhouette vanished behind a brilliant starburst of energy contrails as eighteen AFM-24 “Pilum” missiles, its entire loadout, launched simultaneously. The cloud of death expanded as it streaked around the other fighters in Green Wing, and clustered in a tight formation. As the missiles neared their targets, they fanned out in a graceful flowery arc and chased individual ships.

Most of the Draxx had been so focused on the scent of blood, a crippled bomber, that they failed to notice the extreme long-range launch. Fourteen missiles found their mark, surrounding the jet-black torpedo carriers with a glittering veil of debris.

“That was expensive,” said Michael.

Liam wore an idiot grin. “Yeah… but that was cool.”

“Die, reptilian scumbags!” roared Keg

Green pulse lasers streaked in all directions from the ACS-42 “Broadsword” bombers. The ships made even the Manta seem small. Long and flat, with a tiny hint of a wing near the back just in front of a single massive engine, their profile (when viewed from above) was a perfect fit for their designation. These ships could not go into atmospheric flight like the fighters of Green Wing; they were intended for space duty only. Each bomber had four turrets, one at the left and right edge near the wing, one in the center of the belly, and one on the top, just behind the bridge at the tip of the nose. Eight grooves along the underbelly indicated where anti-capital-ship torpedoes had been.

The bombers turned toward the approaching Green Wing, the chaos of Liam’s missile barrage afforded them a moment of peace. Caiomhe’s Broadsword swerved after a passing Monitor, one that the missile strike had damaged but failed to destroy. A stream of obscenities trailed over the comm from the little redhead as she tried to make the enormous bomber turn fast enough to track the Draxx fighter limping across her field of view.

Two centerline mass-driver cannons fired; the first volley missed; a whorl of blue and white stretched off into space. Caiomhe screamed more obscenities, shooting six more times. The final barrage clipped the rear end of the monitor. A slug half the size of the Mosquito fighter tore off the four engine vent ports and sent the ship into a sideways spin. The G-forces alone from the sudden shift would have been enough to kill the pilot. After a few seconds, the Draxx ship broke up.

“Hah. Take that you slimy piece of mung.”

Like wolves after a herd, three more Monitors closed in on the Broadsword that strayed from the group. They approached in a pyramid formation, the lead fighter unleashing blast after blast from its main guns. Caiomhe howled, more with anger than fear, as a particle beam burned a scar across the top of her ship. The thick armor held. Her turrets focused on the attackers, shaving one off the side.

“Come on, you lizard bastards, is that all you got?”

“Razor, what the hell are you doing?” The voice belonged to “Mole”, the commander of Piranha Squadron.

“Killing lizards, commander.”

“Regroup immediately,” said Mole. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Yes, sir.” Caiomhe grumbled like a scolded tween sent to her room.

Neutron beams streaked in from too far away for Piranha wing to see the source, ending with a bloom of energy where a Draxx fighter died.

Emma flew straight at the lead Monitor, walking pulse lasers up its nose and over its canopy. Untouched by the laser energy, the clear bubble misted red as the Draxx pilot vaporized inside. Only by virtue of being within twenty meters of her target was such a precise shot possible. She pulled up at the last second, rocketing between the two Monitors at the back of their delta formation. The lead ship drifted off into space.

Michael took advantage of the disorientation Emma’s kamikaze charge caused. The right side Monitor turned after her while the other remained focused on the easier target, the Broadsword. Holding down both triggers, Michael strained his ship’s capacitors as particle beam and wingtip-mounted pulse lasers all went off at once. The Draxx ship vanished in a brilliant flash. Emma pulled back, going vertical to the Broadsword.

“Aaaah!” Emma screamed as she came head-on with a large chunk of former Draxx capital ship tumbling in her direction. She twisted her throttle control, adding a burst of downthrust that kicked the tail end of her fighter up and let her swerve through a hole in the rotating slab.

The pursuing Monitor was not small enough to fit, and not nimble enough to avoid it. He tried to follow her through the hole―the impact shaved both wings off. As the Draxx fighter tumbled out of control without its maneuvering thrusters, Caiomhe’s turrets homed in on it. Green pulse laser streaks shredded through its hull, with enough energy left to continue through the wreckage into space.

“Dammit, why can’t I get those on this thing?” Emma grumbled.

Neutron beams peeled another Draxx ship off the bombers.

Aaron grinned. “Because, sweetie, class four pulse lasers take more power to fire than that little toy of yours produces.”

She scowled. “Were you born a laddish muffin or did you have to work at it?”

“Many years of exposure to aristocracy, I fear,” said Liam. “He’s almost beyond help.”

“Perhaps,” said Zavex, over the sound of his particle beams firing, “another near-death experience will soften him.”

“At least the silver spoon in his mouth might reflect a laser,” Emma said.

“She should have spent time reading technical manuals rather than doing her hair, you can’t mount G90 Starflares in a Mosquito; the power consumption is―”

“Doing my hair?” She scoffed, speechless for seconds. “Are you bloody serious?”

“Enough,” bellowed Michael, rolling through the aftereffect of his particle beams on another Draxx ship. “Save it for when we aren’t getting shot at.”

Zavex, chuckling to himself, picked a trio of Kraits off as they dodged turret fire while going after Piranha Squadron’s damaged leader. “We should be thankful these Draxx suffer so badly from target fixation.”

Neutron beams claimed another Draxx ship. “No doubt,” said Liam. “This is easier than the sim.”

In the distance, the two remaining Draxx capital ships continued to launch fighters. Piranha Squadron drifted ever closer to the
Manhattan
as Green Wing came together around them, continuing to pluck errant Draxx off them. The battle floated out of time, expanding the events of only thirty seconds into a laborious virtual hour.

“There’s a little one on me!” howled Aaron.

“That explains a lot,” quipped Liam.

Neutron beams streaked around Aaron’s Glaive, but the Krait chasing him avoided them.

“Careful, Tell, that almost got me.”

“I’m locked, can’t get there,” yelled Michael, growling as he rolled left and dove away from a Monitor trying to line him up for a missile.

The Draxx stayed with him, unable to fire but still on his tail.

“Dragon, break right in three seconds,” said Zavex, engaging Michael’s pursuer.

The Mosquito leapt up into Aaron’s rear-view, immediately behind the Krait tailing him. “Oh, bother. I forgot to read the bloody procedure manual… Oh, Aaron, be a dear and tell a helpless girl how to arm these lasers? Which button is it I’m supposed to push?”

She did not wait for his answer, loading up the Krait’s single engine port with pulse laser fire. It popped like a firework, launching its four winglets in different directions.

“Just because I’m minted doesn’t mean I’m a princess. That’s twice now this
toy
picked a lizard off your bum.”
Keep taking the Mickey out of me and next time I might be too slow.

Emma sighed. That was something she would not say. She wanted to, but she would not. No matter how much of an idiot he was to her, he was still a Terran pilot. Unlike any other unit in the Fleet, they were isolated. They only had each other and a comment like that was going too far. They had to be able to count on backup without hesitation. Even if she never intended to make good on the threat, the mere enunciation of it would make people doubt her even more.

She snapped out of her thoughts just in time to avoid an incoming barrage of particle beams. The offending ship vanished in a flurry of neutron beams.

“Attention all Terran units, this is Commander Grey. The
Manhattan
is making ready for jump. All ships return at once. Repeat, all ships return at once. We are go in forty seconds.”

Michael, Zavex, and Aaron, helped along by Piranha’s turrets, wrapped up the last of the Draxx fighters close enough to pose a threat. At least two dozen more were coming in.

“Damn it all!” Caiomhe growled over the comm as she yanked her Broadsword around to face the rear, firing the mass-drivers at the incoming cloud.

At such distance, the ponderous craft was not at a disadvantage against even small fighters. Small motions of the stick made large differences at the target distance, and the projectiles it fired were all but invisible in the darkness of space. Slugs of inert metal smashed through two and three Draxx fighters with each shot. They scattered, widening their formation.

Liam whistled, envious of the destructive potential of those guns. Their range was comparable to his neutron beams, but rather than make perfect little holes through things, the solid projectile rent whatever it hit. On a small enough target, the sheer kinetic energy involved could vaporize metal. Granted, neutron beams did not run out of ammunition or require as much power as the magnets. Perhaps that is why only bombers had them; they were meant to pepper corvettes and capital ships, not be turned on fighters.

“Razor, you’re nuts,” Liam said with a smile.