“Everything’s ready.”
“Very well. You may fire on my mark,” said Matheson.
Watching the chronometer mounted over the main viewing panel, the general raised his arm. Breathing stopped on the bridge as a tense hush fell over everyone present. The officer at fire control struggled to suppress the tremble in his hands as he waited for the signal. All eyes were on the asteroid as the general’s hand dropped.
“Fire.”
What happened next was almost as impossible to believe as it was anticlimactic. When the generator was triggered, a brilliant blue beam shot across the intervening space between the ship and the asteroid. It danced on the surface for the briefest of moments. The massive asteroid then simply ceased to exist. It was as if it had disappeared into the vacuum of space, nothing left to even hint at its existence. The entire bridge crew sat in stunned silence. The general was the first to break the spell.
“Oh my God. That was minimum power?” he asked hoarsely. Momentarily flustered, he struggled to regain his composure.
“Y-y-yes, sir, minimum pulse duration, minimum power level,” Bill said.
“Oh my God,” the general said again, standing. “I want a complete scan of the area. The mass of that rock had to go somewhere. I want to know where!” His order sent the bridge into a flurry of action. Readings were taken, recorded, and then passed along to the general. He glanced over them for a moment and then handed the printout to Bill for his analysis. Bill’s face was ashen as he finished reading the reports.
“What is it, Bill?” the general asked worriedly.
“Well, instead of only causing the breakup of the asteroid, as we predicted, its entire mass has been compressed into a ball roughly one centimeter in diameter. It has also caused the core of the asteroid to become superheated, almost to the point of thermonuclear fusion!” Bill said excitedly.
“What the hell does that mean?” the general asked, his foul mood evident by the way he was chewing on the end of his unlit cigar.
“What it means is that if that asteroid had contained any more mass than it did, it would have just given birth to a new star,” Bill said with awe in his voice. The general’s jaw dropped, and his cigar hit the floor with a thud. Finishing the general’s train of thought for him, Bill said, “And if that had happened, this ship, along with everyone on board, would have been incinerated.”
“Oh my God,” the general said yet again as he sat down. “You mean to tell me that we can’t use this thing without destroying ourselves in the process?”
Bill considered carefully before replying. “As long as the appropriate calculations are made, we should be able to use it to destroy enemy cruisers. Anything larger than that, and I’m afraid it would be terminal for us as well.”
The general considered Bill’s comments. He quietly came to a decision. “I want a safety governor installed on the system so that the generator cannot be fired in a situation that would be dangerous to us as well as the enemy. I also want an override capability tied into the bridge, keyed on my voice. Any questions?” He paused, looking at Bill. “Good. Do it.”
Bill left the bridge elated that the weapon had worked but at the same time very apprehensive about the destructive power he had unleashed. He remembered the words of Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the atomic bomb. “Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.” Bill understood those words now in a way that very few human beings ever would.
Perhaps in a time of peace, the generator could be put to good use helping to create habitable systems where once there was only dead rock in space. Perhaps. But right now his invention would be the savior of humankind, an instrument of judgment to be used against their oppressor, bringing peace and hope where now there was only war and hopelessness.
His thoughts turned to his family. He imagined the liberation of Earth from the hands of the Jerrollites. Bill’s mind continued to turn these thoughts over and over as he made his way to his lab.
CHAPTER 16
Modifications were being made at a dizzying pace. A new mood pervaded the ship as crew members finally saw a spark of hope on the horizon. Small as it was, it was enough to ignite the hearts and minds of everyone on board. Even Bill had a hard time resisting the excitement. At last he would be able to justify the sacrifices that had been made to get him to the Hercules.
Once the generator had been fully integrated into the ship’s systems, General Matheson called a planning meeting for all his top staff. Planning for the counterattack was finally under way. As Mark made his way to the briefing room, he could not help but feel a surge of adrenaline. He stopped by the lab on the way to the planning session to see how Bill was making out. The door whispered aside as he entered. Looking around, Mark saw a familiar white-coated figure hunched over some contraption in the far corner. He chuckled to himself as he was reminded once again that Bill could be relentless in the search for perfection. Walking over to where Bill was standing, Mark tapped him on the shoulder. Bill responded by jumping like a scared cat, dropping the tool he was holding.
“Man! Don’t do that!” Bill said.
“Sorry, Bill, just wanted to stop by and see how things are going,” Mark said, chuckling.
“No problem. Other than a little fatigue, everything is fine.”
“Great. Why don’t you take some time to relax and let us handle things for a while?” Mark said. Bill removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his face looking like a sunken, hollow facsimile of itself.
“You may be right. I am kind of tired, now that I stop to think about it,” Bill said.
“Go to your cabin and get some rest. You’re not going to do us any good if you kill yourself before we engage the Jerrollites. I’m on my way to the planning session now, and I’ll stop by and let you know how it went when we get through. Fair enough?” Mark asked.
Bill nodded his head in agreement, giving a few last orders before leaving the lab. Mark left with him and headed in the opposite direction.
When Mark arrived, the session was already under way. The room was congested with a thick haze of smoke and filled with arm-waving, finger-pointing men all trying to make a point at once. It resembled an experiment in chaos more than an orderly battle planning session. Mark wondered at the ability of these men to produce anything useful from these meetings. He took a seat next to General Matheson at the head of the table. A large, muscular soldier with the rank of captain, whom Mark recognized as the commander of the ground forces, was currently standing in the center of the room, pointing at a map of the solar system on the wall.
“We must provide a diversion from the rear, General. If you can get enough of my troops on the ground, we will be able to mount a campaign against their main communications facility, which they have established in the Pentagon. Without that, they won’t be able to send for help from their home world. They won’t be able to ‘phone home,’ as it were.” The reference elicited several muffled chuckles from around the room. Feeling that he had made his point, the captain took his seat.
“Very well, Captain,” the general said. Turning to Mark, he asked, “How are preparations going?”
“We’ve fitted the Hercules with all the control systems you asked for. I also took the liberty of outfitting one of the TAC-WING fighters with a harness to hold the generator if necessary.”
“Why?” the general asked.
“If the Hercules becomes crippled, we will be able to preserve the generator by launching it on a fighter.”
“Good idea. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.” The general continued for several hours, hammering out every possible detail and contingency. Many times the discussion threatened to get out of hand—some wanting to go in full tilt and simply blow the Jerrollites out of the sky, others wanting to maintain secrecy for as long as necessary. Mark watched as General Matheson skillfully manipulated the meeting, gently guiding it in the direction he thought was best. Finally a plan was worked out and agreed
to that incorporated the best elements from the ideas that had been thrown on the table. After generating all the necessary papers and orders required to implement the plan, the general dismissed the session. As the other men trudged out of the room, exhausted by the meeting, General Matheson leaned over to where Mark was sitting and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
“You think it’s going to work?” Mark asked.
“I figure the odds are against us right now,” he replied, scratching the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “But with God’s help and a dash of luck, I think we can pull it off!” He grinned as he stood up to leave the room.
“Godspeed, sir,” Mark said, standing with him. A strange emotion filled him as he watched the general leave the briefing room. He had an unspoken son-to-father attachment to the old man for sure, but there was something more, something deeper that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. When the general reached the doorway, he turned back to look at Mark, his figure silhouetted against the bright lights in the hallway. Seeing that image jarred Mark’s mind. Struggling hard to remember his Greek mythology, he was struck suddenly by the story of the phoenix, the bird that was destroyed but rose up from the ashes of destruction to a new and even greater glory. This ship and all the humans on board were the phoenix, rising up from destruction to reclaim what was rightfully theirs. Mark choked up as he thought about his metaphor.
“Sir,” Mark said.
“What is it, son?” the general asked.
“I propose that this operation be code-named ‘Phoenix,’” Mark said, staring at the general as the words left his lips. Realization dawned in the general’s eyes, unspoken comprehension passing between the men.
“Very well. Operation Phoenix it is,” he said as he turned and left the room.
CHAPTER 17
High in orbit above Earth, five Jerrollite command ships were stationed in geosynchronous, equidistant positions. No spot on the surface could avoid surveillance. The flagship was positioned over North America, immediately over the Jerrollite communications facility in the Pentagon building. Floating in space, the flagship’s conical shape gave it a benign appearance belying its true nature. Jerrollite battleships were perfect examples of efficiency in design—design for a specific purpose. Their gleaming white surfaces were interrupted only by the occasional extrusion of sophisticated sensor arrays and bays full of equipment. The ships bristled with hidden armament, which could be deployed within seconds. They were machines of war, not exploration. The body of each ship flared toward the rear where the main propulsion units were housed. The great engines emitted an eerie, greenish glow as they exerted a gentle thrust to offset the pull of Earth’s gravity and maintain a geosynchronous orbit.
Since the initial invasion, the fleet had dispersed across the surface of the planet. Every landmass had been assigned a squadron of ships to serve as an occupying force under the direct control of a local commander. Each squadron operated symbiotically with the others, intermingling and supporting one another when necessary. Each squadron was tied into one of the orbiting battleships via a communications link and through that to the supreme commander in the flagship, who in turn could control every aspect of the Jerrollite presence on the planet. The entire invasion had been coordinated from above by the supreme commander through direct communications and control links to the flagship, a supremely efficient arrangement that allowed for complete control and coordination across the entire fleet.
Earth’s military could not make any move at all without being spotted and eradicated from above by the Jerrollite ships. The initial fighting had been over very quickly, as each Earth government capitulated in turn to the rule of the Jerrollite race. At first there had been many incidents of rebellion and insurrection on the part of individual humans, but they had been put down quickly and mercilessly by ruthless execution. It had been necessary on several occasions to exterminate as many as thirty thousand at a time, gathering them together in an open field and firing the ship’s plasma weapons on the huddled crowd. Most of the time, the bodies were incinerated where they stood, but occasionally a victim would not burn completely, and a charred mass of flesh would be left where a human being had once been. The Jerrollites refused to remove these remains, so they stood in mute testimony as grim reminders of the disdain the Jerrollites had for human life..
In the command flagship, the supreme Jerrollite commander, T’chak, stood in the control center scanning readouts from the planet below. He shook his head in disgust as he looked over the heavy elements list that was just coming in from one of his ground commanders. This planet was very poor in resources that the Jerrollites could use. Every single element that they could have taken and used had been squandered by the human infestation on the planet. The commander again shook his head as he thought of all the time and energy that had been expended in conquering this planet. What had it gained them? Nothing! Not even a cargo of heavy elements to take back home. He had been against invading this puny planet from the beginning, seeing it for what it was—a waste of effort and resources. This conquest had been a politically motivated one, to be sure. There were members of the council who were attempting to puff themselves up by chalking up another conquest for the great Jerrollite empire. T’chak spat on the floor in disdain for the political maneuverings of others. Mulling over the situation in his mind, he grew angrier by the moment the more he thought of it. The commander came to a decision as he watched over his bridge crew. He spun on his heel and left the control center, headed for the communication core. He would put a stop to this waste before it could go any further.
He initiated contact with all the other command ships in orbit around Earth to inform them of his decision. As each commander appeared on the screen, he acknowledged his leader with a brief nod and waited for him to begin. When all five leaders were connected, T’chak began.
“After a long period of battle and glorious conquest, we have vanquished this planet and its inhabitants. There is nothing left for us to accomplish by staying here any longer. No heavy elements are available for us to take back home. Therefore, I make the following decree.” He cleared his throat and began speaking in an imperious manner. “All ground squadrons will be immediately recalled to form up with the main battle group. A minor force will stay on the planet to enforce our rule over the population. Once the ground squadrons have rejoined the fleet, we will depart this system for the home planet within one rotation of the conquered planet.”
T’chak could see in the eyes of his subcommanders that they felt the same way. They had quickly grown weary of this waste of their talents. He made a mental note of the discontent and continued. Leaning forward, he activated a private channel to Subcommander T’lal, the most senior member of his staff.
“T’lal, the honor of maintaining rule on this planet shall be yours. Move your squadron to the area on the planet the humans call Washington. Establish your command center in the Earth building called Pentagon. Our communications facilities are currently being run from there. Location coordinates are twelve-seven-oh-oh-two.”
“Yes, Lord,” T’lal said, clenching his fist over his chest in a gesture of honor and respect.
The commander nodded his approval and once again addressed his entire staff. “Implement now.”
Communications were beamed out to every Jerrollite installation on the planet conveying the orders of the supreme commander. Ground commanders, caught unaware by the supreme commander’s decision, scrambled to get their troops recalled and loaded onto transport ships in preparation for departure. After each ship was loaded, it left the surface for an orbital rendezvous with its own commander’s ships.
The orbiting command ships executed a positioning maneuver and left the geosynchronous orbits they had been holding, coming alongside T’chak’s flagship. As the ground squadrons began to rise in their transports from the surface, they headed for their respective commander’s ships, taking position to the rear of each vessel. As the ground ships joined the assembl
ing fleet, the formation began to look like a massive arrowhead, pointing straight at Earth’s heart. Within a matter of hours, the entire Jerrollite armada was assembled and ready for departure.
The flagship lumbered into position as the point in a massive triangle. When the positioning maneuvers were complete, the supreme commander called for a communications connection to every ship in the armada. His voice and image would be seen by every soldier in the fleet simultaneously.
“You have fought well. This battle is done. We return now to our home world to bask in the glorious honor that is ours. T’lal, take your position.”
T’lal’s squadron broke formation and came to the head of the armada. T’lal ordered his ships to form two broad lines, between which the fleet would pass, a traditional honor guard in the way of the ancestors. Once the honor guard was in place, T’chak gave the order to proceed. The flagship was the first to enter the gauntlet of ships on its way home. Each ship passed T’lal’s squadron, slowly and majestically, re-forming into a pyramid on the far side. The supreme commander felt a great pride in his men. They had served him well many times in the past and once again proven their ability as an elite fighting force—the home world’s finest. It was infuriating that their efforts had been wasted on such a weak and unworthy opponent. Well, he considered, at least it was a good exercise.
As the flagship passed out of the gauntlet, T’chak ordered the hyperdrive engines engaged. As the engines came online, a brilliant green flash erupted from the rear, and the flagship streaked into the cosmos.
T’lal watched as the flagship left the system, followed closely by the other ships in the armada. When the last ship was gone, he ordered his men to descend back into Earth’s atmosphere. He wondered at the “honor” of being selected as the commander to stay behind and monitor the humans’ planet. To a warrior, the task could almost be considered humiliating. However, he was getting much older and slower than his younger counterparts, so he supposed he could have pulled worse duty. After all, the humans had already been beaten. Their military had been completely wiped out, and over 50 percent of the population had been disposed of. They had nothing left to fight with, their spirit was broken. His only problem was going to be one of boredom, and he was quite sure that he could still overcome that. T’lal gave a snort as his ship began its descent back into the atmosphere, headed for the Pentagon.
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