Operation Chimera by Matthew S. Cox, Tony Healey

for a few seconds wherever it encountered a loop in one of the arm-thick hoses crisscrossing the floor. Command Ops sent the five-minute warning; ground crews scrambled about with last-minute preparations, and all pilots had buttoned down their canopies and secured their helmets.
    Michael tapped his gloved fingers on the stick, tracing his eyes over the X-shaped pattern at the center of the immense hatch. The door was three feet thick, almost enough to absorb a direct hit from a small torpedo. He did not understand the point, the hull to either side was thinner; who shoots at the doors on purpose? To his left, Zavex sat amid total calm. So still, the reflections of his displays were legible via their reflection upon his helmet. Beyond him, Emma huddled forward as if blowing hot air into her hands to warm them. He poked the touchscreen with his squad mates’ status reads to open a private comm channel.
    “Sylph, everything okay?”
    Her head bobbed up. “Got a little case of the collywobbles just sitting here, Lieutenant. I’ll be okay once we’re underway.”
    “Don’t let him get to you. If he starts to psych you out, let me know.”
    “I don’t need a big brother.” Her helmet turned toward him. “If he steps out of line, then do what you have to do. I’ll not let him take the Mickey out of me.”
    “Whatever that means.” Michael laughed, ending the comm.
    “Betty, you see anything strange in the systems?”
    “No, Lieutenant.” A pleasant female voice flooded the cabin.
    He squinted at Aaron, sitting back in his Glaive like the king rooster of the henhouse. Flashing orange lights distracted him from any lingering suspicions. The ground crew all ran for something to grab. The flight deck filled with the voice of Frank, the
Manhattan
’s AI, counting down from ten. A few of the ground crew that failed to find proper refuge went into the air like flags during the hard deceleration out of jump space. As the forces squished him to the right side of the cockpit, Michael pondered the oddity of all fighters having female AI’s, while the large ships seemed to all have males.
    The human banners returned to the ground and the flashing lights ceased. Several ran to a control console and set about opening the launch bay doors. As the immense doors slid into the ceiling, the pilots of Green Wing looked out through the atmospheric retention field at the opposite side of the inverted canyon. Two hundred feet away, the other row of fighter bays appeared as round-cornered blue rectangles. Michael opened a general comm to his wing.
    “Green Wing, this is Green Leader. Our sector patrol is on the opposite side of the carrier from our departure point. Once we clear the bay, roll inverted and break ninety degrees down. We’ll do an Immelman up and over the
Manhattan
and proceed to our rendezvous point.”
    The row of small holographic helmets in front of him all nodded. Michael’s ship AI communicated his flight pattern to Frank, who in turn relayed it to the rest of the fighter squadrons. One by one, the intended departure paths of every wing appeared as lines in their HUD; everyone knew where everyone was going. Except for the bombers―they were stuck on standby in the flight deck.
    “Heads up people, this is Commander Grey. You are thirty seconds from launch clearance. We have arrived without incident in the Chimera Nebula by the way, Hunter.”―Green Wing cheered and waved at Aaron―“Long range sensors have not picked up any hostile contacts. In all probability, this will be an evaluation run to test the functionality and capability of you and your ships. Best of luck.”
    “Avast ye scurvy dogs! Prepare to be boarded! The Green”―the tirade of a whining pirate voice ended with a sharp metallic clank―“Righto, chaps, apologies for that outburst. Carry on.”
    Emma cracked up. Zavex looked around, trying to figure out where that came from. The piteous squeak of Liam trying not to laugh invaded their