Operation Chimera Read Online Free PDF

Grey had agreed to do it. Now they were both older―and his old friend was right. Driscoll’s hair was no longer the jet black of his youth.
    “Where’re you off to now?” Driscoll asked.
    “The hangar deck. I have to settle in a load of newbies. I’ve got squadrons of rookies who need a good breaking in,” Grey said. “The usual.”
    A bell chimed. An indicator he was wanted on the bridge; they were waiting for him there. “Look, I need to go…”
    Commander Grey drew a tight salute, shoulders back, chest puffed out. “Captain.”
    “
Yeoman,
Grey,” Driscoll said with a wink as a parting remark.

    “Captain on the bridge.” Lieutenant Hardy announced upon Driscoll’s arrival.
    The Captain raised a hand to stop him in his tracks. “Thank you, I appreciate it. But please…
don’t do it again
.”
    The bridge crew returned to their stations.
    “Sorry, sir,” Hardy said.
    “No need to apologize, Lieutenant,” Driscoll said. “Just don’t repeat it, son, okay?”
    Hardy sat back behind the helm next to the navigator. The only two seats to be found on the bridge were at the front, behind the helm controls and under the glare of the huge viewscreen. The other stations were manned standing. Not even the Captain and his Executive Officer got a seat. A lot of Captains complained about it, but Driscoll preferred it that way. It kept the crew sharp, it made them feel as though they’d done a full day’s work when they finished their shift. Their feet ached afterward.
    Driscoll had once heard an Ensign complain to a former Captain of his, Captain Lancing, about sore feet. Lancing had leaned close to the younger man and said, “Grow thicker soles, my boy.”
    In other words…
harden up
.
    The bridge was an oval shape with the viewscreen at the end of one narrow edge, and the entrance to the bridge at the other. Smaller than the bridge he’d had on the
Sonata
. But then, the Archon classes weren’t equipped with an AI unit. Most of the
Manhattan
’s functions and processes could be handled automatically by the supercomputer known as Frank if needed, though Driscoll didn’t quite feel comfortable in putting his life in the hands of something that didn’t exist.
    To a degree, you could trust in the dependency of metal and flesh. But positronic thought patterns? Not so much.
    “Greetings, Captain,” Frank said through the overheads. “Welcome Aboard.”
    Commander Teague glanced at Driscoll, waiting for his reaction to the AI.
    “Thanks, Frank,” he said.
    “Shall I prepare the
Manhattan
for departure?”
    The Captain turned to Commander Teague. “Are all hands accounted for?”
    She nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
    “Go ahead, Frank,” Driscoll told the distinctly male―yet
bland
―personality.
    Commander Teague went and stood by the helm. “Lieutenant Hardy, when you’re ready, clear all moorings.”
    The Lieutenant’s hands flew over the controls. “Moorings cleared.”
    “Release all airlocks. Uncouple the docking clamps and equalize pressure.”
    “Aye.”
    “Reactor at one hundred percent, Captain. Engines primed. Jump drive spooled.”
    Driscoll waited for Commander Teague to return. “Efficient isn’t he?”
    She nodded. “That he is.”
    Driscoll turned his attention to the helm. “Thrusters only, Mister, Hardy. Get us away from the station before we open her up a bit, see what she can do.”
    It was traditional to call a ship
She
or
It
. Never
He
. A chariot of the stars could only ever be referred to as a lady. Nothing less. Not when your life depended on her. Driscoll glanced at the overheads, wondering what pencil-neck in a lab coat decided to make the AIs in capital ships male.
    “Yes, Captain,” Hardy said.
    “Ensign,” Commander Teague said to Ensign Blair. “Thank Horizon Station for having us and advise them we are under way.”
    “Aye.”
    The other bridge crew were hard at work ensuring all other aspects of the
Manhattan
’s many systems functioned as expected.