Operation Chimera by Matthew S. Cox, Tony Healey Page A

helmets.
    “That damn droid is insane,” said Aaron.
    “I assure you, my mental faculties are doing far better than yours would be, were you my age.” The stuffy, aristocratic voice emanated from Keg.
    “This is where Sylph says she thinks it’s cute.” Aaron shot a saccharin smile at her little fighter.
    “Alright, secure that crap,” said Michael. “We’re hot.”
    Green Wing lifted off the flight deck at the same instant, Emma led the way through the field in her faster-accelerating ship. They all rolled inverted once clear of the door, heading down into a vertical (relative to the carrier) descent for a thousand meters before they pulled into a sweeping upward curve that took them across the top of the
Manhattan
and to their assigned position. Before long, they reached a distance of 18,500 meters, which reduced the massive carrier to a gleaming speck.
    Michael checked the navigation system once more, satisfied at their position relative to the rest of the fighters. “Diamond, tight.”
    Liam shifted the large Manta fighter toward the center of their formation, with a Glaive on either side and Emma out front. Michael took the outside spot, with Zavex in the rear and Aaron closest to the carrier.
    “Gee, guys, I feel so loved,” said Liam.
    “Dragon, I’m getting some kind of strange shape on my Navcon.” The sound of Aaron’s fist banging on something followed.
    “I got nothing, looks clear to me,” said Emma.
    Michael looked up at the odd calm in her voice. She sounded cold now, almost irritated by Aaron’s issue.
    “Same here,” added Liam.
    “Yes, yes. Everything is in order,” said Keg.
    Zavex chimed in last. “I have no issues.”
    “Everyone run an A-3 diagnostic,” said Michael.
    Several minutes of silence passed as their various ships’ AIs got to work.
    “Oh, this is so disappointing. I remember doing these A-3s, manually. Used to take a good hour you know. You’d think they’d have given me a socket to plug in die-rect, but oh no.” Keg waved his little grippers over his head. “That would have cost just a little too much.”
    Liam glanced over at his butler-bot, waving his antenna-like arms about as it spoke, before it rubbed a chin it did not have.
    When the systems check came back clean, Michael looked out across the Manta to Aaron’s fighter. “Hunter, you still having that glitch?”
    “Nope, guess the diag cleared it up.”
    “Green Wing, this is Operations, acknowledge.”
    “Copy, Operations, this is Dragon. Go ahead.”
    “We are vectoring a target drone in your direction for weapons testing. Take note of any unusual interactions between onboard systems and the nebula.”
    “Copy that.” Michael hit the master arm switch, and his HUD lit up with weapon status and targeting information. “Team, we have an inbound target drone, approaching from zero-four-seven degrees starboard. Weapons hot, recorders on. Tell, don’t nail the drone… just shoot the ghost.”
    Aaron laughed. “Hit the drone, that’s rich. That’s like shooting a missile down.”
    Liam chuckled, grinning.
    Beeping signaled the approach of a long tube-shaped drone, its transponder simulated the signature of a larger ship. The intent was to fire through empty space, leaving the drone itself untouched.
    Emma flicked the safety cover open at the top of her right-hand stick to expose the trigger. The drone simulated a cargo pod, an easy target if there ever was one. She fired a few times, twin blue-white beams of energy leapt from the nose of her Mosquito through the designated target area.
    “Betty, simulate missiles. Don’t waste ammo,” said Emma.
    “Acknowledged,” chimed her AI.
    On her HUD, the computer animated a ripple of virtual rockets, most of which went through the target area.
    Liam nudged the Manta through the bottom of the formation, to get a shot past Emma without risk. “Keg, hop on the turret.”
    He pulled up a little harder than the droid was expecting.
    “It’s just a