“Looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?” asked Mark.
“Yes, sir, but at least it’s in one piece,” the sergeant said.
“True enough. Debrief the men, and then give them twenty-four hours of R & R. Also, take a day off yourself. You all deserve it,” Mark said, smiling.
“My pleasure, sir!” Grinning, he saluted Mark and returned even more vigorously to his task of getting the transport unloaded. Mark watched as several body bags were stacked on carts to be taken down to the ship’s morgue for processing. His heart was heavy as he thought of the sacrifice that these men had made. Johann’s voice didn’t even startle him.
“You did a good job, Mark.” Mark turned and saw the compassion in his eyes.
“I’ve never had anybody die under my command before. It really gets you, right here,” he said, gesturing toward his heart.
“You won’t ever get used to it. When you do, that’s a pretty good indicator that you’ve been at it too long.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Mark said with more conviction than he felt. Johann lingered a moment longer and then went off to help the sergeant get things in order.
Mark could hear them bellowing good-naturedly at the men all the way to his cabin. Opening his door, he threw his gear into his locker and collapsed onto the bed. All the tension and stress of the last few days finally caught up with him. His body was telling him to shut down, to withdraw into himself, and get some much-needed rest. After fighting the impulse for several seconds, Mark finally surrendered, drifting off into a deep and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 14
Bill had been working continuously since his arrival on the Hercules. His head ached, and his back hurt from stooping over his experiments for so long. He had never really intended his invention to be used as a weapon, so he had not incorporated any type of targeting or fire control into his original design. He had been laboring to design a housing that could not only withstand the tremendous energy that would be generated when the weapon was fired but also be capable of transport by a small TAC-WING fighter.
The task was a daunting one. He had already come up with several radical new devices that were required to make the black hole generator a reality instead of merely a theory. Each new device had required an entire development and testing process of its own. All of this took time, which they were quickly running out of. The general had assigned a team of engineers and technicians to assist him in any way they could, but because he was the only person who could understand the theory behind the generator, he had to personally oversee every single aspect of its development.
All the pressure was rapidly becoming more than any normal man could handle. Bill pushed himself away from the bench that held the latest incarnation of the generator and rubbed his eyes. He was tired and wanted to take time off to sleep for a month. Walking over to a dispenser, he poured himself a large, steaming cup of the synthetic garbage that passed itself off as genuine coffee. At least it had the same kick as a good cup of Colombian like his wife used to make.
Sudden and unexpected thoughts of his wife and daughter made his heart sick as his mind replayed for the millionth time their violent and fiery deaths. Again the rage built inside him as he screamed silently at the injustice that had been done. He was trembling with rage and mourning as tears began to flow from his tightly closed eyes.
“Bill, are you okay?” a gentle voice said. He turned and saw Mark Hunter standing behind him with a genuine expression of concern on his face. Wiping the tears from his eyes and sniffing, he smiled at Mark and accepted the offered handkerchief.
“I’ll be fine. I was just thinking of my family,” he said.
“All of us feel the same way. You sure look like you could use some rest. When was the last time you slept?” Mark asked.
“I don’t remember. I try to catch a few winks here and there while we’re working. I have a cot in the back,” he said, indicating a storeroom at the back of the lab with a wave of his hand. “I’ll be okay, Mark. Really.”
“Okay. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“I will. Thanks,” Bill said.
Mark left the lab. Bill returned to his work at the bench and began tinkering with the device that was mounted in a brace. His hand slipped, and he dropped the tool he was holding. His thoughts again turned to his family and their lives together. Despair began to grow in his mind as he thought of facing life without them. On the verge of giving up and succumbing to the desire to retreat from the world of the living, he looked up at a sound in front of him. An older technician had entered the lab and was checking several experiments running on the far side of the room. The sight of the woman reminded him of his neighbor back on Earth, the old woman who had survived the attack and snapped Bill to his senses in the aftermath of the destruction.
What was it she had said? Bill struggled to remember through the haze of time. Suddenly her words came ringing through the cloud that surrounded his brain. “The only way to honor them is to survive.” Bill pondered the wisdom of that statement. He had survived, all right. He had been through a living hell ever since the first attack, but he had come through unscathed. Now he had a chance to honor not only his family but the millions of others who had been slaughtered during the war. By God, he decided, he would survive. The old woman’s words once again gave him strength to carry on. Silently he whispered a prayer for her safety as he bent to his work with renewed fervor.
Several days later, a working prototype lay on the bench. Although it could not be tested safely inside the ship, Bill was confident that it would work. He had been over the circuits and reworked the algorithms at least a hundred times. He had pored over the charts with his assistants, looking for any flaw in the design, any defect that might prove dangerous when the weapon was tested. Finally satisfied that everything had been thoroughly checked, the team had begun assembly on the prototype that lay before him. Every circuit had been tested and every component verified individually. If everything went according to his design, this device would make it possible to generate a black hole of any size at any coordinate position relative to the generator. Because black holes were extremely dangerous, the generator could not be tested anywhere close to an inhabited system.
Gathering up his notes and a small model of the prototype, he left the lab and made his way to the briefing room where General Matheson, Colonel Hunter, and all the other military commanders were waiting for him. He entered the room and was met by a chorus of greetings from those assembled. They all knew the deadlines he had been working under and did not want to pressure him, even though they were anxious to hear the results of all the work that had been proceeding in the lab. The Hercules had been cruising just outside the Sol system during development of the generator, and most of the commanders were getting restless sitting around doing nothing.
Bill fumbled with his notes as he prepared to present his findings to the group. Organizing his thoughts, he began.
“As you all know, several weeks ago we began attempting to apply a theory I had developed to the construction of a working weapon that could be used against the Jerrollites. After many long, hard hours, I am pleased to report that we now have a working prototype, ready to be tested.” Several of the men around the table smiled at the prospect of a return to action. “Because you have not really had the opportunity to understand our work, I’ll give you a chance now to ask any questions you may have concerning the generator.”
Several of the commanders began speaking at once, creating pandemonium in the room. General Matheson stood to his full and impressive height and rapped on the table for attention. One by one the other officers turned in his direction. When he had the full attention of the room, he said, “One question at a time, gentlemen.” They all nodded their agreement, so the general returned control of the meeting to Bill. The nearest man at the table asked the first question.
“Exactly what will this generator do?”
“The purpose of the generator is to create a singularity
, or black hole, in any location we desire,” Bill said.
“What’s a black hole?” said an anonymous voice from the back. Several subdued chuckles came from around the room.
“Well, stated simply, a black hole is an object with such an intense gravitational pull that not even light can escape its surface. It’s not really a true hole in the sense you might be thinking of, but if you were to see a black hole up close, that is what it would appear to be.”
“How can that be put to use as a weapon?” another officer asked.
“By being able to precisely control the location and appearance of a black hole, we can conceivably destroy any physical object in the universe. For instance, to understand the incredible power we’re talking about, suppose that we materialized a black hole the size of a pinhead in the middle of an enemy ship. To us, the ship would seem to disappear instantaneously. In fact what really would happen is that the entire ship and its contents would be violently attracted to the surface of the black hole and crushed. Theoretically this could even be done to an entire planet,” Bill said as several astonished gasps came from around the room.
“Drawbacks?” General Matheson asked.
“Well, right now this weapon is still in an experimental stage. We don’t have enough material on board to construct another prototype, so we are limited to only one generator. Also, if we attempt to generate a black hole larger than a pinhead, stability problems may result, and we could lose control of the hole. If that happens, the results will be catastrophic and definitely not something we want to happen.”
Matheson’s eyebrows went up. “Catastrophic?”
“Yes, sir. If we lose control of the process, the hole could continue to expand until it achieves enough mass to start a fusion process. In effect it will become an unstable star. Most likely it will go supernova and destroy everything around it.”
General Matheson stared at him for several seconds before responding. “Hmm. Sounds like we had better be careful.”
“Yes, sir. Right now we need to come up with a way to test the generator without alerting the Jerrollites,” Bill said.
“What would you suggest?” asked the general.
“I would like to see it used on a small body, such as an asteroid, as an initial test,” Bill said.
The general seemed lost in thought for a moment, and then he continued. “Major Smith, plot a course for the nearest charted asteroid outside of the Sol system. Make sure that it is at least ten parsecs from the nearest known Jerrollite installation. Bill, get your generator ready for testing. Mount it in the front cargo bay and rig it so it can be controlled remotely from the bridge. All right, men, you have your assignments. Testing will commence within two hours after we arrive at the asteroid. Good luck.” With that statement, the general turned and left the room.
Bill gathered up his materials and followed the rest of the officers out, readying himself for the monumental task at hand.
CHAPTER 15
Bill returned to the development lab to gather the things he would need to install the generator in the cargo bay. The general had selected the bay because it faced forward and was located on the front of the main command module. It would provide an excellent platform from which to run the generator.
He entered the lab and motioned for his assistants to gather around. “All right, everybody. Our objective is to get the generator installed in such a way that it can be controlled from the bridge. Everything needs to be set up so the generator becomes an integral part of the weapons systems of this ship. Put on your best engineering hats, and let’s get this thing installed!”
The lab exploded into a frenzy of activity. Bill’s assistants collected the tools and materials necessary to mount the generator and wire it into the ship’s weapons systems. A virtual army of technicians made their way toward the front cargo bay with Bill in the lead. The strange entourage was the focus of many curious stares in the ship’s narrow corridors. When they arrived at the cargo bay, the team began to install the equipment to accomplish the task at hand.
Not only did the generator have to be installed, but the test would have to be monitored closely, which necessitated the installation of several sophisticated pieces of monitoring equipment. Bill examined the bay to decide on the best way to mount the generator. This cargo area was one of the smallest, used mostly for storing nonperishable food. Currently it was almost empty, which was fortunate because the support and test equipment for the generator would fill most of it. There was a single large opening in the far wall that let equipment be loaded in and out. The most logical way to mount the generator was to suspend it from a brace that would center it on the opening in the far wall. Techs began to fabricate the brace with the help of the ship’s maintenance engineers. Welding torches crackled and popped as the framework went up. The ship’s ventilators and air-recycling system could barely keep up with all the smoke and debris. After about an hour, the framework was complete. Bill motioned for the generator to be brought in. Carefully wheeling it in on a special cart that had been assembled back at the lab, the technician slowly made his way over to where a small hoist was waiting next to the brace. Bill walked over to supervise the operation.
“Make sure that line is secure,” Bill said.
“Yes, sir,” the young man said.
All the lines were checked and double-checked before Bill gave the okay to raise the generator from its cradle on the cart. As it went up, Bill and several other technicians kept their hands on it to steady and guide it into its receptacle in the brace. The generator was lowered slowly into the freshly constructed arms of the brace. When it was resting securely in its cradle, Bill and the others began to clamp it securely into place. Once it was accomplished, Bill stepped back to admire his handiwork.
It sure doesn’t look like much, Bill thought. What it looked like was a scene right out of Frankenstein’s lab. The generator was mounted in a complex lattice of supports and braces that all but obscured the large cargo entrance. A mass of wiring ran from the generator to several computer outlets along the wall and into many pieces of test and support gear scattered throughout the room. Bill walked over to one of the programming consoles.
“How’s it goin’, Mike?” he asked.
“Fine, Bill. I’m just finishing up tying in fire control to the generator. We can monitor it from the science console on the bridge, but it will have to be fired by the weapons officer from the weapons console.”
“Great. How much longer will you need?” Bill asked.
“I’m finished now. All the preliminary checks are complete, and system communications with the bridge have been tested and verified,” Mike said as he shut down his console and stood, arching his back and stretching to relieve some of the pent-up tension.
“All right. Let’s get this area clear, and I’ll inform the general,” Bill said.
Mike trotted off to supervise the final cleanup, double-checking all the connections as he went. Bill located the nearest intercom and paged General Matheson on the bridge.
“Sir, this is Bill Johnson. Installation of the generator is complete. All control has been routed to the bridge. We are ready to commence the test whenever you are.”
“Excellent. We will be arriving at the asteroid in about fifteen minutes. Be on the bridge by then. Out.” The intercom clicked off with finality.
Bill raised his voice to address the entire room. “Make sure any loose articles are removed when you leave. Secure your stations and evacuate the room.”
After the last person left the bay, Bill shut the access door and locked it with his personal code. When he reached the bridge, the door opened with a quiet swish, and a puff of cool air hit his face. He made his way to the science console and opened the program that would monitor and control the generator. After he was satisfied that everything was in order, he turned to the general.
“Everything’s ready, sir. All systems are showing green on my board. The weapons officer has control.”
�
�Very well, gentlemen. Helm, reduce speed.”
As the Hercules approached the asteroid, its speed reduced slowly until it came to a halt three hundred kilometers from the slowly spinning body.
“Helm, bring the ship around and line up Cargo Bay Charlie with that asteroid,” said Matheson.
The Hercules swung around gracefully, stopping its spin just as the cargo bay containing the generator lined up perfectly with the asteroid. As the ship was being maneuvered into position, Bill began the initial warm-up sequences to bring the generator into a state of readiness. He also brought all the monitoring equipment online and started the recorders. Once the ship was in position, General Matheson stood up in the center of the bridge and began calling commands to different stations.
“All hands, prepare for test sequence to begin.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Open cargo bay door.”
The ensign at the ops console complied with his order. On the monitors around the bridge, the massive door of the cargo bay could be seen sliding silently to one side until it locked in place at the end of its track. The generator sat in the center of the opening, glistening in the starlight like a slender needle of death.
“Power up to nominal levels,” the general said.
Technicians all over the bridge began bringing up the power levels to the generator. A low-frequency hum could be felt throughout the ship as each circuit came online. The building charge could be seen on the monitors as a bright blue corona dancing around the tip of the generator, sizzling and crackling with barely restrained energy.
“Generator has charged and is ready to target, sir,” Bill said from his station.
“Excellent. Bring targeting system online,” Matheson said.
“System is online and ready, sir,” a young officer at the fire control station said. Clasping his hands behind his back, the general took a deep breath.
“Target asteroid body.”
“Done.”
“Set generator to minimum power, duration of one nanosecond.” The general glanced at Bill to ensure that the requested levels had been set. Bill wiped a bead of sweat from his face as he nodded.
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