Gravitys Hammer

by Jerry Reynolds

  Whoomp! Mark gasped as the ground once again leapt up to meet him. He could hear Johann shouting at the men, trying to get them to scatter so they would be less vulnerable. Mark heard several muffled thumps coming from outside the cave as energy beams hit the side of the mountain, vaporizing huge chunks of earth. He got into a crouching position, leaning on the wall for support. As he was gathering his gear, he looked up, and amid the swirling smoke he caught a clear glimpse of the attackers. Jerrollites!

  The alien force had been able to track the transport all along and had only been waiting for it to arrive at its destination before attacking. Mark cursed under his breath as he realized that their entire mission was in jeopardy because of his carelessness. Scooping up his pack, Mark signaled Johann to follow him with the men and ran in a low crouch toward the gaping hole in the far wall of the cave. From behind a large piece of fallen rubble, Mark peered at the pandemonium going on outside. On the ground below, almost in the same spot where they had landed, a Jerrollite troop transport was disgorging its contents onto the valley floor. Jerrollite soldiers were swarming out of the ship, sprinting toward the cave entrance. Mark quickly ducked back inside. While his heart pounded in his chest, his mind played out possible scenarios of defense. Searching for and quickly finding the sergeant, Mark picked his way through the debris to get to him. Both men stayed low behind a large piece of fallen machinery.

  “Sergeant! Gather the men around the rear of the cave and wait for my signal. I’m going to call Reeves to come and get us out!” Mark yelled over the uproar. Several Jerrollite energy beams lanced through the smoke, vaporizing everything in their path.

  Mark ducked his head as a Jerrollite soldier appeared in the doorway, rapidly firing its weapon in random directions. A beam missed Mark’s head by inches, singeing the hairs on the side of his skull.

  “Watch out!” the sergeant said as he knocked Mark off his feet, shoving him down into an undignified heap.

  His hand covering the side of his head, Mark turned to the sergeant. “Damn! That was close. Thanks.” The sergeant’s only answer was in his actions. He rolled to his right, leveled his rifle at the alien soldier, and fired a sustained burst. The slugs struck the soldier in its midsection, almost cutting it in half. Mark felt his stomach turn as the Jerrollite wilted into a quivering pile of flesh, a large pool of blue blood spreading out from what was left of the body.

  “Well, well, I guess they do bleed after all,” the sergeant said sarcastically. He trotted up to the opening in the cave wall, took a position behind several large boulders, and began rifling off shots into the smoke and haze. The occasional scream from below bore witness that his aim was true. Mark removed his communicator from his pack and keyed in the access code that would contact Reeves back at the ship. He could only hope that Reeves would remember the code to activate the ship. At first the sole response from the radio was a loud squawk of static, but finally Reeves’s voice came through, loud and clear.

  “Colonel Hunter, is that you?” the tinny speaker said. Mark recognized Reeves and was relieved that he was still okay.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Are you ready to fly?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, sir. Just tell me where and when!”

  “We’re under attack by Jerrollite forces. No enemy air cover has been detected, but it’s dark, so make sure you’re careful. We’re located at the ARA, in grid seven at coordinates a-one slash g-nine. We need your firepower to get us out. We’re pinned down but can hold till you get here.”

  “Message received, sir. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  “Godspeed, Reeves. Out.” Mark closed the communicator and placed it in his pack. He drew his sidearm and took up a position next to the sergeant, who had already been very successful, as indicated by the many bodies lying facedown in the dirt. Mark motioned for the rest of the squad to take up positions along the wall. If they were to last until Reeves arrived, they would have to make every shot count.

  Across the room, Mark saw Bill Johnson crouched down behind several large pieces of equipment. He motioned for three men to converge on Bill’s position and defend him. All they needed now was to lose the only surviving weapons scientist they had to make this entire trip a colossal waste of time.

  Shouting at the senior soldier of the three guarding Johnson, Mark made sure that he truly understood the importance of his task. “You make sure that man gets out of here unharmed! Understand?” A curt nod relieved Mark of that worry momentarily. As he turned to rejoin the battle, Mark heard a scream from the other side of the cave, directly across from where he was crouched. Through the haze Mark saw a young man, not more than twenty, staring down at a gaping hole in his chest, a look of disbelief on his face. An energy beam had struck him in the chest, leaving a hole the size of a man’s fist all the way through his body. Where his heart once had been, now there was only empty space. As Mark and several other soldiers watched, the young man attempted to say something and then collapsed into a heap on the floor. Mark glanced around into the faces of his men. The looks in their eyes hardened as they returned fire even more fiercely than before.

  The battle would not last long at the rate they were consuming their supplies. The squad was running low on ammunition, and it was getting harder and harder to see targets below. Firing continued for several minutes as both sides succeeded in decimating the forces on the other side. Mark was sickened at the sight of several of his best soldiers sprawled in heaps on the floor of the cave, their lifeless eyes staring out at nothing. He pulled out his communicator and again contacted Reeves.

  “Reeves! This is Colonel Hunter—where the hell are you?”

  “Approaching your position now, sir; ETA is fifteen seconds!”

  Mark looked up beyond the confusion of battle and could just make out the running lights on the transport. The sight immediately lifted his spirits. He signaled Johann and the sergeant, pointing. Both men understood immediately. Johann ordered the squad to drop back from the cave entrance so they would not be hit by any stray fire from the transport. Mark’s communicator burst into life as Reeves announced his arrival.

  “Yee-HAH! The cavalry is here!” Reeves shouted. Mark did not want to distract him, so he made no reply, instead only waiting and watching.

  Mark could just hear the high-pitched whine of repulsor engines running at full throttle. The whine continued to grow in intensity until it was almost deafening, eliciting confused looks skyward from the Jerrollite ground forces. Mark concluded that the Jerrollite commander had figured out what was about to happen, because it was standing up, frantically waving its arms to get the soldiers loaded onto their transport before all hell broke loose. Mark smiled grimly to himself, realizing that the commander was only succeeding in making a much more attractive target. If Reeves followed procedure, the first thing he would hit would be the alien ship. Almost as if on cue, Reeves and the transport burst into view, coming out of a low-lying cloud with the nose of his ship pointed straight down, the front cannon spitting jets of flaming death toward the enemy ship.

  The Jerrollites were caught completely by surprise. The initial volley ripped through the outer skin of their ship like it was paper before it finally exploded, sending dead Jerrollites spinning through the air to land in broken piles all over the battleground. As the fireball rose into the air, chased by an oily black tail, a shout of victory tore itself from the lips of the men under Mark’s command. Every dead alien body added fuel to the fire that was burning in the hearts of his men. Reeves brought the transport around in a wide arc, raking the enemy camp multiple times with thirty-millimeter cannon fire. The depleted uranium slugs destroyed everything in their path, passing through metal, flesh, and stone with little or no delay. Several enemy soldiers attempted to bring their weapons to bear on the transport but dropped them and collapsed before they could fire a single shot. Mark looked down the line and saw Johann and the sergeant, rifles at their shoulders, picking off single Jerrollite soldiers as they attempted to fire on th
e transport. He returned his attention to the scene playing out on the ground below. After the transport made two more passes, the area was transformed into a scene of carnage and death accompanied only by the eerie whine of the transport’s engines.

  “All clear, sir!” Reeves said over the radio.

  As Reeves brought the transport in for a landing, Mark stood up with a triumphant yell and called to the other men. They answered his yell with an even louder one of their own. Holding their weapons high over their heads, they ran out of the cave toward Reeves, who was just coming out of the cockpit access hatch. Grabbing him and hoisting him onto their shoulders, they began to whoop and yell, rejoicing in their victory.

  “Great job, mister!” Mark said from his perch, waving his hand in Reeves’s direction.

  “Thank you, sir! My pleasure!” Reeves said enthusiastically.

  As he turned around, Mark saw Bill Johnson trying to bundle something into a bag and walked over to help him load his gear. “Let’s go home, Bill,” said Mark. Bill looked at him somberly for a moment and then nodded rapidly.

  “I’m ready,” he said, gathering his equipment. Both men walked outside and joined the squad standing around the transport. Ordering the sergeant to get the men loaded, Mark took his place in the cockpit, showing Bill to the jump seat located in the rear.

  “All hands, prepare for liftoff,” Mark said over the intercom.

  A jubilant cry went up from the rear of the ship. Mark smiled to himself as he started the launch sequence. The whine of the engines built up rapidly as the ship pushed itself skyward, breaking free of the gravitational bonds that tried to hold it down. Turning the nose of the craft skyward, Mark pushed the throttle forward to maximum, reveling in the feel of the thrust against his body as they blasted their way toward space—and home.

  CHAPTER 13

  As the transport broke free from Earth’s atmosphere, Mark entered a course into the ship’s computer that would take them to a prearranged rendezvous point with the Hercules. Engaging the autopilot, he unbuckled his harness and made his way to the rear cabin. Several of the men were already resting, their eyes closed and their arms cradling their rifles like mothers holding children.

  Making his way quietly through the ship, Mark checked on each man, offering comfort and thanks for their efforts. When he got to the back of the cabin, his foot bumped against something solid on the floor. His eyes came to rest on a dull-green body bag, a grim reminder of what they were fighting for and how much they were willing to give up to win.

  Mark composed himself and made his way back into the cockpit. Squeezing into the cramped pilot’s seat, he secured his safety harness and sat back, reflecting on the mission.

  “I’m sorry you lost some of your men, Colonel,” Bill Johnson said from the rear of the cockpit. Turning his head slightly, Mark could see a look of genuine concern on Bill’s face.

  “There’s a price that must be paid for freedom. They gave their lives so you would have a chance to help us. Don’t mourn their loss—just make sure their sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”

  “I will, Colonel. I will,” he said as he clamped his hand on Mark’s shoulder. The resolve in his eyes was evident. “Thanks for coming to get me.” The moment was interrupted by a flashing light on the panel.

  “What’s that?” Bill asked.

  “Automatic guidance system. We’re coming up on the Hercules.” Turning his attention to the controls, Mark said, “Make sure you’re strapped in good. This is going to be a rough landing.” Bill scrambled to get himself situated in his seat, going over his harness once again to make sure everything was buckled properly.

  Glancing over his panel, Mark began to make the necessary preparations for landing the transport on the flight deck of the Hercules. Because of the clandestine nature of their mission, along with the need for speed, the transport was going to attempt a special high-speed landing procedure. To remain undetected, the Hercules could not reduce speed even for a fraction of a second. Mark had never had to actually perform a high-speed landing except in flight simulators but felt reasonably confident. The procedure would maintain the highest degree of protection both for the ship and the transport. The maneuver consisted of accelerating the transport to twice the cruising speed of the Hercules and then, with the precise timing only a computer could achieve, the shields would be lowered and the transport allowed to enter the landing bay. Shields would be raised immediately, and automatic systems in the bay would prevent the transport from crashing into the far wall.

  Toggling the radio to a secure channel, Mark called in his recognition code for landing permission. The terse reply came quickly. “Permission granted. Speed is point three seven six.” The Hercules was giving them as much leeway as possible—that fraction of light speed was as slow as the ship could cruise and still maintain invisibility to enemy sensors. Programming the flight computer for twice that speed, Mark made the final preparation for landing by initiating an inertial damper field around the transport. Without the field, the contents of the transport would be smeared on the inside walls like grape jelly on toast. Flipping the intercom switch, Mark made a brief announcement.

  “All right, gentlemen, prepare for high-speed landing.” Several groans came from the rear cabin.

  Placing his hand on the activate switch, Mark took a deep breath and engaged the computer. The star field blurred to the edges of vision as the transport leapt forward to its destination. A distant point of light appeared to be hurtling toward the transport at breakneck speed. The blur of light rapidly resolved into the landing bay. Mark closed his eyes and braced himself.

  As the transport blazed toward the Hercules, the ship’s computers began working in tandem with the transport’s onboard system to calculate speed and distance millions of times per second. Just before the transport impacted the Hercules’s shields, the computer lowered them for the fraction of a second necessary for the transport to gain entrance. As the transport streaked into the bay, the computer engaged a magnetic grappling field to seize the ship as it passed. Everyone inside was thrown violently forward against their safety harnesses. Even with the inertial damper field field in place, the rapid deceleration produced a crushing force that made it impossible to breathe. Mark’s vision faded, dark blotches beginning to dance across his field of view. A horrendous ripping noise filled the cabin as sparks erupted from the console, filling the cabin with smoke. The pressure on Mark’s body increased to the point where he was sure he was going to burst a vital blood vessel somewhere or become violently ill.

  As abruptly as it started, the pressure stopped. Only the quiet licking of flames on the console reminded Mark that he was still alive. Slowly opening his eyes, he winced at the throbbing pain in his head from the massive influx of blood. He looked around the cabin and realized they had made it! Grabbing a fire extinguisher from the side of his seat, Mark pulled its pin and doused the console. He released his harness and activated the emergency ventilation system to remove the smoke from the transport’s atmosphere. Coughing hoarsely, Bill Johnson sat back in his seat and moaned in pain.

  “Man, you weren’t kidding when you said get ready, were you?” he said, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, attempting to orient himself.

  “As they say, ‘Any landing you can walk away from is a good one,’” Mark said. Bill laughed gingerly, still holding his head as he unbuckled his harness and picked up his gear. Mark opened the cockpit hatch and descended the ladder to the deck below. General Matheson was already coming toward the transport, the gleam in his eyes giving away his feelings. As he approached, Mark came to full attention.

  “Colonel Hunter reporting in, sir,” he said, saluting smartly and snapping back to attention. Matheson eyed him for a moment and then clapped him on the back so hard Mark almost lost his balance.

  “At ease, boy, at ease!” Matheson laughed heartily. “Thank God you boys made it back. We’ve been dodging Jerrollite patrols ever since you left. It’s a bloody miracle we haven�
�t been discovered yet!” he said, pausing to catch his breath. “Were you able to recover any of the weapons or scientists?” he asked, apprehension in his eyes.

  Unable to keep the disappointment from his voice, Mark said, “When we reached the ARA, only one person had been able to make it in safely.” The general’s spirits quickly came crashing down.

  “Damn. Who was it?” he asked.

  “Bill Johnson, sir. He was working on some sort of black hole generator that the Pentagon thought could be used as a weapon.”

  “I see,” he said, mulling over the situation as he chewed his cigar.

  Bill had climbed down from the cockpit and walked up to where both men were standing. He introduced himself to the general, and soon they began discussing in earnest the facilities that would be needed to complete the research and development of the generator. As Bill educated the general on the potential uses of his singularity generator, Matheson grew more and more intrigued.

  Mark excused himself from their discussion and made his way over to the sergeant, who was supervising the disembarkation of his troops. Glancing up at the ship, Mark examined the abuse that the transport had taken. The exterior hull was a mess. It was stretched out of shape in several places where the magnetic grappling hooks had locked on to it. Black scorch marks ran up and down the entire length of the ship where Reeves had been raked by enemy ground fire.