Free Operation Chimera by Matthew S. Cox, Tony Healey

straight for the dark core of a mysterious land? Down the river, into the jungle, into madness…
    The
Manhattan
pushed through the last of the Cluster’s outer edge, and burst into the less compacted interior.
    Details of the Conrad novel drifted through Driscoll’s mind at random, offering greater detail though it had been years since he read it. For a time he’d tackled all of the classics. Most he finished, some he didn’t. He remembered the title of that novel, in particular, referred as much to the mission as the narrator himself. True, he had journeyed into darkness, to find a man possessed by shadow. But along the way? Driscoll had come to realize that the narrator had been consumed as much with darkness as his quarry.
    Am I?
The incident, other missions I’ve led over the years… am I a ‘Man O’ War’ as the saying goes? Do
I
have a heart of darkness? Is that why they really wanted me for this? Because they know I’ll cross the line if it comes to it.
    Up ahead the viewscreen changed to show the bow.
    They’re right. I’ll break every rule in the book if it means I can stop something like the
Resolute
happening again. The Chief doesn’t know…
    “Lieutenant,” Commander Teague addressed Hardy. “Prepare to execute the next Jump.”
    There was simply no way the
Manhattan
would have been able to make it through the outer edges of the Cluster at Jump speed. At such velocity, her field emitters would have been overcome by the density of what they were travelling through. For the same reason, a starship travelling at Jump speed could not leap through the heart of a sun. Gravity wells and black holes also played hell with navigation. Courses had to be plotted with the utmost precision to take all of that into account. There were occasional accidents, it was true, but on the whole, Jumping was safe. It was the only feasible way to travel among the various star systems. Without it, only generation ships could cover the distance, and one cannot fight and win wars six families later than when one takes off.
    A whine filtered in from below decks as the Jump Drive re-spooled.
    “Ready.”
    “Jump,” Driscoll ordered, his mouth suddenly dry.
    Lieutenant Hardy keyed the controls. The
Manhattan
leapt at his touch. Once more, the space on the viewscreen rippled, a black pond disturbed by a stone before it surged forth to devour them.
    Down the river, into the jungle
…



he shuttle doors opened, blinding Michael with long-absent sunlight for a moment. He lingered off to the side of the aisle as other pilots and crew filed past him, out to the adoration of waiting people. Reporters, family, and the curious, showered the arriving heroes with love and adulation. When the last of them had disembarked, he made his way down the ramp, skirting the crowd. He offered a pleasant smile at the one reporter to notice him, but did not linger to speak as he traversed the tarmac at a brisk walk and took a seat in the terminal monorail.
    Michael glanced through the window at the cheering faces, glad to be home, but thinking too much of the ones who did not make it to feel joy, or even true relief. It was just as well, his mother would feel enough happiness for both of them. The tram jostled him as it got underway, drawing his attention to the box of medals in his lap. Metal trinkets from some unknown number of fallen that he had to deliver to their loved ones. A part of him wanted to open it and count them, but he could not find the will to do it.
    The Draxx threat had abated, for now. He tilted the case, listening to the trinkets clatter inside. Would anyone even remember the names of the people these insignias once represented? Even now, the saviors of the Terran Alliance endured the accusation of being warmongers. Fringe groups plastered cartoon-cute images of the reptilian Draxx, as if all humans did were melt down baby lizards in their cribs. They couldn’t know what really happened out there; they never saw the gleaming