As the last remaining Jerrollite ship left orbit and reentered Earth’s atmosphere, a small one-man TAC-WING fighter came out from behind the moon where it had been hiding. Thrusters set to maximum, the small spacecraft burst forward on a giant plume of burning exhaust for the safe confines of the Hercules.
CHAPTER 18
The fighter hurtled toward its destination. The pilot could barely contain his excitement over the developments he had just witnessed. Approaching the Hercules in its hiding place on the outer edge of the solar system, he entered the landing bay quickly and landed his craft. Without even waiting for the normal landing checks to be completed, he removed his helmet and leapt from the cockpit, his feet barely touching the floor as he raced from the landing bay. He could hear over his shoulder the cursing of the flight deck ops officer as the ground crew began swarming over his fighter. The news he carried was much too urgent to wait even the few minutes it would have taken to do his post-flight checks.
He rounded a corner as he headed for the bridge and ran smack into Mark Hunter. Both men went tumbling to the floor, the pilot sprawled in a heap against the far wall, Mark flat on his face. Mark shook his head, regaining his composure as he rose to his feet. He picked up his cap and smoothed his fingers through his hair. The pilot’s face was burning red as he realized who he had just collided with. He collected himself and once again began running toward the bridge. Mark stood in the middle of the hallway, watching the young officer run in the opposite direction. Remembering what he had just done, the pilot called back over his shoulder.
“Sorry, sir. I’ve got some urgent news for General Matheson.”
Mark shrugged and took off after the pilot, following him onto the bridge. They burst through the door together and came to a skidding halt in front of General Matheson. The young pilot was breathless and found himself unable to speak. Matheson stared at them while chewing on his cigar.
“Don’t hyperventilate, boy! Speak up!” he said.
“Perhaps we should retire to a briefing room, sir,” Mark said. General Matheson nodded his head, and they made their way into the nearest room. The general shut the door and took his seat.
“Now, gentlemen. You want to tell me what all the ruckus is about?”
The pilot began. “Captain Edwards, sir. I was on a surveillance mission on the far side of Earth’s moon, and I saw the Jerrollite fleet assembling in orbit.”
General Matheson leaned forward in his chair, expressing interest in this new development. Mark also focused on what the young captain was saying.
“After they were all in orbit, one group formed some kind of honor guard or something, and all the other ships passed through it and left!”
Matheson’s eyebrows shot up. “What the hell do you mean, they left?” the general asked.
“Just what I said, sir—they’re gone. They passed through this line of ships, engaged their engines, and were gone within seconds.” Matheson sat back heavily in his chair, lost in thought. If the Jerrollite fleet had really left Earth, then perhaps a unique opportunity had presented itself.
“Did any stay?” Mark asked.
“I saw one contingent of thirty ships head back down to North America. I waited till they were out of sight and came back here as fast as I could,” Edwards said, still breathing heavily.
Matheson and Hunter looked at each other and smiled as they realized that perhaps God had seen fit to give them a break after all. While thirty to one still weren’t very good odds, it was much better than ten thousand to one. With the element of surprise on their side, they might just stand a chance of coming out on top. General Matheson scratched the stubble on his face and addressed the captain.
“Very well done, Captain, very well done, indeed. Dismissed.” The captain stood, saluted both men, and left the briefing room. General Matheson banged his fist down on the table with a gleam in his eye.
“All right. We don’t know why they left or how long they’re going to be gone, but we are not going to waste this chance. Operation Phoenix commences in one hour. Make preparations to get under way.”
“Yes, sir!” Mark said enthusiastically. He switched on the intercom and began issuing the orders that would set their plan in motion. Preparations, for the most part, were already complete, with only minor details left to attend to. The ship exploded with activity—personnel were elated to at last be going into battle. Flight crews began manning the more than one hundred TAC-WING fighters on the Hercules. The spacecraft were fueled, and engines were started. As Mark entered the launch area, he was amazed. Technicians were swarming over every fighter, checking and rechecking every detail. Every ship was critical to the success of the mission.
Mark walked over to the far side of the bay where the troop transports were loading the ground assault force. Johann Switzer was still in charge, barking orders to the men as they climbed on board.
“Coom ohn, you pahntie waists! Geht your butts in gear!”
Mark chuckled as several young recruits looked back over their shoulders, not really sure how to handle Johann when he was in one of his moods. Mark placed his hand on Johann’s shoulder. His face lit up when he saw him.
“Mark, boy, will you be joinin’ us today?”
“I wouldn’t dream of interfering, Johann. I’ll be above you, giving you air support!”
“Great, just what I need, my own guardian angel!” Johann said.
Mark clapped him on the back and wished him luck. “Your guys will go in about thirty minutes ahead of the fleet. You need to land as close as possible to the Pentagon and set up diversionary ground fire. If possible, get inside and destroy their communications facility. We sure don’t want them to be able to send for help.”
“Dahm streeight, mon!” said Johann. Mark laughed as he turned and headed for his fighter.
He settled himself into the cockpit of his TAC-WING, removing the BWI helmet from its alcove behind his seat. Placing the helmet on his head, he quickly ran through a complete check on every subsystem in the fighter in preparation for launch. The adrenaline pumping through his system wiped out any vestige of nervousness or fear. One at a time, each of his weapons systems came up green on his console. Satisfied that everything was ready, Mark leaned out and gave a thumbs-up sign to the loadmaster. A large grappling hook latched onto Mark’s ship, lifting it onto the waiting launch rails. The TAC-WING fighter slid into the launch tube as the access hatch sealed shut. Mark could feel the vibration of the ship coming up through the launch rails. He gripped the joystick tightly, waiting for the launch order to come.
Up on the bridge, General Matheson was busy coordinating the thousands of details that had gone into their battle plan. The bridge was a beehive of activity: each element of the plan was being fed into the computer, checked, and rechecked for errors. Glancing at one of the status boards, he noted that one hundred TAC-WING fighters were online and ready to launch. All troop transports were in the launch tubes ahead of the fighters.
One by one each station signaled its readiness to implement the battle plan. Status lights on the main console went green as each unit reported in. When everything on the board was green, Matheson activated the intercom and addressed the entire crew.
“We are about to commence Operation Phoenix. The odds are against us, but right is on our side. We will prevail, or we will die. There is no other choice. Each and every one of you will play a vital role in the success of this mission. We are humanity’s last hope. Godspeed.”
He released the intercom with an air of finality. Moving to stand in the center of the bridge, he looked at the communications officer and gave the order that would begin the operation.
“Launch defense probes, now!”
The defensive probe ships were used as a confusion tactic, as each one gave off the exact same radar signature as the Hercules. On enemy sensors it would appear as if the entire fleet were attacking at once.
The only indication on the bridge that anything had occurred was a minor vibration
felt through the deck plating as ten large probes left the main launch tubes. Riding pillars of flame, each one swung around in front of the Hercules and leapt into hyperdrive, leaving only a small wash of color behind. Even that faded quickly.
“Probes away, sir,” a young ensign said.
“Very well. Launch three squadrons of fighters to act as an escort for us.” The same tremble could be heard and felt beneath their feet as dozens of TAC-WING fighters were launched. Each fighter appeared on the main view screen taking up position around the ship, forming a protective umbrella. Matheson observed all of this in silence, satisfied at the progress of the plan.
“Engage main engines.”
In the aft section of the ship, the giant engines roared to life, making the entire ship shudder violently. The general experienced a surge of adrenaline as he felt the vibration through the soles of his feet. The huge ship lumbered forward, slowly at first but gaining speed rapidly as the engines settled into a violent rhythm, propelling the Hercules toward its destiny. As the ship began racing toward Earth, Matheson ordered a course plotted to bring them in behind the moon and remain out of range of any enemy surveillance. Once the giant warship had attained cruising speed, Matheson opened a private channel to Mark’s ship, which was still standing by for launch. Mark was going through systems checks in an attempt to make the waiting time pass more quickly. His heart skipped a beat as Matheson’s voice interrupted his busywork.
“Is everything ready?” Matheson asked.
“All systems are green, sir. Just give the word,” Mark said.
“Very good. Stand by for launch on my command.”
Closing the channel, Matheson sat back in his command chair, content for the moment that all was going well. He looked over his bridge crew with admiration. They were all business, no wasted words or motions. The time for battle had come. They all knew it and were prepared to pay any price. The young ensign at the navigation console interrupted his thoughts.
“Coming up on lunar meridian, sir.”
“Very well. Lay in an orbit that will keep the moon between us and Earth at all times.”
“Course corrections laid in,” came the crisp reply.
“Commence new course when appropriate, Ensign.”
“Aye, sir.”
The massive warship swung in low on the dark side of the moon, out of any sensor range from the planet. Using brief bursts of power, the battleship synchronized its speed with the rotation of the moon, appearing to hover over a single spot. A graphic display on the navigation console showed the desired orbit in relation to the current position of the Hercules. The image of the ship gently came into sync with the orbital path display. The ensign’s fingers flew over the panel, locking in the ship’s position and instructing the computers to maintain it. When everything showed green, the ensign turned to the general.
“Orbit achieved, sir. We are at station, keeping three hundred kilometers above the lunar surface.”
“Well done.” Turning to the command console, he keyed in the sequence to authorize the launch of the troop transports. The ship’s computer system acknowledged his code and signaled the ships in the launch tubes. General Matheson switched on the intercom.
“Johann, you may launch your ships. Godspeed.”
“We’re off to see the wizard…and we’re going to kick his butt…sir!” Johann said. Everyone on the bridge smiled briefly, sharing Johann’s enthusiasm.
“Just make sure you do. Report in when you have taken your objective. Matheson out.”
Each transport erupted simultaneously from different launch tubes around the ship. As each one cleared the outer shields, it headed toward the front of the Hercules, where it joined the lead ship in a massive flying V. Johann’s face lit up the front view screen on the bridge.
“Well, General, looks like this is it. I will contact you as soon as our job is done,” he said, all traces of his Jamaican accent gone.
“Good luck, Johann. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The main view screen flickered back to a view of the lunar surface. The formation of transports could be seen moving off the screen. The general switched on the ship-wide intercom.
“Silent running rules are in effect. No electromagnetic emissions of any kind are allowed. Use passive sensing devices and optical communications only.” Silent running meant the Hercules would be out of contact with Johann and his troops until it was time to launch the aerial portion of the attack.
The general drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair impatiently. He watched intently as Johann’s ships dropped below the cloud deck after entering the atmosphere. Matheson was pleased to see that no response was forthcoming from the enemy. They had not detected the incoming ships. Now there was nothing left to do but wait for Johann and his men to execute their elements of the plan.
CHAPTER 19
Fountains of flame spat from the side of the Hercules as the troop transports left their launch tubes. Inside the lead transport, Johann Switzer made final preparations for planetfall. According to their plan, he had just two hours to achieve his objective of either taking over the Jerrollite communication facility or destroying it. It didn’t really matter to him which course of action he followed as long as he got the job done. Johann was one of the lucky few who had not lost any family during the initial Jerrollite attacks, but he had seen his friends’ lives destroyed by the invasion, and that was more than enough motivation to spur him on, hardening the resolve for victory in his heart.
Checking the status of the other transports on his board, he busied himself with checking and rechecking every detail of the attack plan. Everything depended on the element of surprise; even though the majority of the Jerrollite fleet had left Earth to head home, they still outnumbered the human ships by thirty to one. Each Jerrollite ship was more than a match for the Hercules, as great as it was, much less one of the transports. The humans’ only hope lay with the weapon they had spent so much of their time and resources developing. Johann hoped it would work. If it didn’t, there would be no second chances.
As the transports fell into formation, Johann brought his optical communications system online, establishing a link with the other ships. A brilliant red beam lanced out from Johann’s ship and touched the hulls of the other transports, looking like the web of a giant spider with his ship at the center. Once valid communication connections had been achieved, he addressed his men.
“Oolright, gents, it’s time to payh the piper. We’ll be going in using maneuver Bomburst Seven.” That maneuver was one of the most difficult but had the greatest chance of success. It involved pairing his ships, which would attack the target from four different directions at once, converging on the planned location simultaneously and laying down a tremendous barrage of lead rain and explosives. If all went well, the enemy would be taken completely by surprise, and the battle would be over before anyone on the ground could react. The transports were equipped with enough weapons and ammunition to make them a formidable force in the air. Johann planned on using their capabilities to the extreme.
“Transports One and Two take south, Three and Four take north, Five and Six east, Seven and Eight take west,” he said.
“Roger, Leader. Flight control systems are locked in and fully functional,” said Transport Seven. The message was repeated by every other pilot in the group.
“All ships converge on me, single file, for descent into the atmosphere,” he said.
On cue each transport executed a pirouette and fell in behind Johann’s ship, forming a line of ships over a mile long. Getting all the transports to the surface without being detected was crucial to the plan, so General Matheson had worked out a special maneuver to use to get down to the surface. Control of each ship in the line would be linked via optical relay to the lead ship, which would bring the entire assemblage to a point over the North Pole and dive straight into the atmosphere. Once down, the ships would break the link and head off in their assigned directions to e
ventually rendezvous with the other ships at the assigned coordinates.
“Engage optical link,” Johann said. He watched his board as each transport complied. The onboard system acknowledged each ship as it came online and relinquished control to the lead ship. As the last ship docked, the ship-to-ship communication link buzzed to life.
“We’re all yours, Johann. Take good care of us,” said one of the other pilots.
Johann chuckled to himself and said, “Doon’t worry, boy, it weel be like rockin’ in your momma’s cradle. Now hang on!” Johann thrust his accelerator forward. The other ships leapt after him, precisely duplicating his every move. He swept the line of ships completely around the dark side of the moon, bursting into the bright sunlight of dayside. Diving straight toward Earth, he brought the ships close to the orbiting Russian space station, keeping it between them and the surface. They could hide behind it until it passed directly over the North Pole. According to Johann’s calculations, they were not going to have long to wait. Opening his front viewport, Johann could see the blazing white ice cap of the pole dead ahead. Gearing up the engines to make a run for it, he prepared to dive straight down to the frigid expanse. As the space station passed directly over the pole, Johann slammed his throttle to maximum and pushed his stick as far forward as it would go. The ships responded by rifling straight down like an express locomotive to hell. The surface rushed toward them, looming larger and larger in the viewport. Johann could hear the gasps of his men over the intercom but could not spare any effort in calming them. His attention was riveted on his control panel, carefully monitoring the hull temperature to make sure it did not exceed safety limits, as well as monitoring his airspeed to make sure he could pull up in time. The transports were designed to make atmospheric landings, but Johann was relatively sure the designers had never envisioned their ships being used in quite this way.
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