Holding out his hands in a palms-up gesture, he turned to Mark and Johann. “How was I?”
“Very inspirational, sir,” Mark and Johann both said at once. They looked at each other and began to laugh.
“Helm, take us home!” said the general.
“Yes, sir!” was the enthusiastic response. The crew on the bridge settled back into their seats as the remaining engines came to life. The ship pulsated with power. Even with the extensive damage to their ship and exhaustion evident on their faces, everyone on the bridge beamed with unconcealed warmth and pride—they were going home as free men and women.
The Hercules entered Earth’s atmosphere in a gentle arc, heading for a landing at the Washington spaceport. As the massive ship approached the surface, Matheson ordered the helmsman to make a low-level pass over the city.
“Bring us in low, Helm. Let the people see us. God knows they haven’t had much to be happy about lately.”
“Yes, sir.”
The front of the ship dipped slightly toward the ground, coming to within five hundred feet of the crowds gathered on the streets below. As the Hercules made its pass, the crew gathered at the viewports to watch the crowds below.
Instead of the joyous celebration one would expect, a somber mood settled over the ship. As the ship slowly passed over the city, they could see the actual extent of the damage. Realization began to sink in as people at last began to grieve for lost loved ones. Their lives had been changed forever. No longer could Earth afford the luxury of arrogance, of believing it was the center of the universe. The Jerrollites had changed that attitude quickly enough. It was a lesson learned at an extremely high price and not to be forgotten, ever.
The ship descended toward the charred remains of the spaceport. The normal landing docks had been obliterated in the initial attack; nothing remained except a melted clump of black material.
“Engage standard planetary landing procedures,” said the general.
“Aye, sir. Landing pods extending.”
The Hercules came to a stationary hover above one of the few clear areas left in the spaceport. Massive landing gear extended from the belly of the ship as it began to make its final descent. The pods touched the tarmac as the landing jets flared briefly, kicking up clouds of dust and debris, and the huge ship came to rest for the first time since the attack.
“Secure all stations,” said the general. He turned toward Mark and Johann, who had been standing behind him during the landing.
“Well, men, I guess we’re home.”
“Yes, sir, it would appear so. I just hope there’s someplace left to go home to,” said Mark. The grim look on the general’s face showed that he shared Mark’s feelings. Johann simply shook his head, his heart heavy in his chest. They felt as if they had been raped, violated to the cores of their souls.
Burying his feelings with a wave of his hand, Matheson broke the silence. “Well, we can’t stand around feeling sorry for ourselves. We have to get ready for the future. Begin disembarking procedures now.”
As the ramp lowered, Bill stood at the rear of the crowd, waiting to touch solid ground for the first time in months. His loss during the attack came rushing back to him, rending his soul. He began to sob uncontrollably as he thought of his child and wife. He leaned against the wall, tears staining his shirt, as he allowed the flood of emotion he had been holding back to all come out at once.
The ramp touched the ground, and people began to rush out into the cool evening air, anxiously looking for friends and relatives. Bill could hear the cries of triumph as the crew disembarked, whooping and yelling to let off the stress they had been under for the last several weeks. Soon there were only a few stragglers left. Bill looked up to see others around him going through similar throes of emotion. He sniffed loudly, removing his glasses and wiping the tears from his face. Mark appeared at the top of the ramp, breathless from sprinting up from the ground. He burst into the bay, shouting at the top of his lungs.
“BILL! BILL!” His shouts reverberated in the bay.
Bill waved at him halfheartedly. Mark ran over and grabbed him by the arm, practically dragging him toward the ramp. Bill’s confusion was evident in the startled look on his face. Mark had a Boy Scout grin splitting his face from ear to ear.
“Come with me, you idiot! You’re needed outside!” Mark laughed as they both stumbled and fell. “Come on, come on!” he said.
Bill’s mind raced in confusion. He had no idea what could possibly be so important. He put his glasses back on and followed Mark outside. When he reached the top of the ramp and looked down, what he saw made his heart stop.
There, standing next to General Matheson at the base of the ramp, was his beloved wife, tears streaming down her cheeks as she began to sob. Bill stood still, dumbfounded. He turned to Mark, who was beaming with joy, and asked, “How…”
“The Jerrollites took her prisoner after your house was destroyed. They’ve had her in a cell since you left! She survived the attack on your house because she was working in the cellar doing laundry. Once the emergency crews arrived, they found her crouched in the corner of the cellar, a bit worse for wear but still alive!” said Mark, as he pushed Bill down the ramp toward his wife. Bill stumbled down the ramp, stopping when he reached his wife.
He looked at her, drinking in the vision of her standing there with outstretched arms. Emotions overwhelmed him as they locked in a passionate embrace. Tears began streaming down his face as he buried himself in her presence. The scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, everything he felt he would never again be able to enjoy threatened to overtake him as he continued to drink her in. His lips sought hers, delivering the most passionate kiss he had ever given in his entire life. They wept on each other’s shoulders, unwilling to let go even for a fraction of a second, afraid they would be again swept away from each other. Bill thought his heart would burst with joy.
“I thought you were dead,” he said. She reached up to his face and wiped a tear from his eye.
“I thought I was too…” she said. “The only thing I remember was the world exploding, and then nothing until those awful aliens dug us out of the wreckage.” She broke down again into sobs. Bill clung to her, wanting desperately to take her pain.
“Don’t worry, baby; we can start over now. We’re together again.”
“Daddy…Daddy…DADDY!” an insistent voice cried. Bill’s mind didn’t register the owner of that voice until he felt an unrelenting tug on his pant leg. He looked down to see his beautiful daughter, looking up at him with big brown eyes, tears welling up as she spoke.
“Don’t forget me, Daddy!” she said. Bill yelped in delight, and both he and his wife laughed. He stooped and picked up the child he thought he would never see again.
“Never, sweetheart. Never.”
They hugged as a family, heads and hearts pressed together in a joyous embrace that seemed to last forever. Unable to contain himself any longer, General Matheson joined in the young family’s joy.
“Go home, Bill. You’ve done your job,” he said, grasping Bill’s shoulder firmly. “Take your family home.”
“Thank you,” Bill said, barely managing to choke out the words.
Mark stood with the general as together they watched Bill Johnson and his family walk off with the rest of the crew.
“I’m glad I was here to see that,” Mark said, working hard to keep the emotion out of his voice.
“Yeah…me too,” said the general, brushing his eye with the back of his hand and clearing his throat. Mark chose not to notice the tear. Matheson pulled his stogie out of his pocket, put it in his mouth, and began fishing in his pockets for a light. He was interrupted by Mark, who had pulled a match out of his pocket.
“I thought you never lit those things,” said Mark.
“Well, generally I don’t, but I figure what the hell?” They shared a solid laugh together.
“Allow me, sir.” Mark struck the match and held it to the tip of the general’s cigar. He took s
everal long drags on it before allowing Mark to pull the flame away. Matheson got a quizzical look on his face, coughing violently. “Wow, these things taste like crap! No wonder I never light them!” Both men began to laugh. Matheson tapped out the cigar before putting the unlit stogie back in his mouth.
“Well, my boy…by the look of things around here, I would say we have a lot of work to do. Let’s get to it, shall we?”
“You got it, sir!” Mark said enthusiastically.
“Very well, then. Let’s go!” They made their way back up the ramp into the ship.
CHAPTER 22
General Matheson reclined in his favorite chair in his cabin aboard the Hercules. His mind was tired and his body fatigued from the incredible stress he had been under these last few weeks. Since the final battle with the last Jerrollite ship, he had been placed in charge of overseeing the rebuilding of Earth’s fleet, which had been devastated during the war. Although everything was progressing at a reasonable pace, it was still very difficult for Matheson to bring himself down to a level to handle the day-to-day management of such a large project. The repair and retrofit of the Hercules were on schedule to be completed within days. The engine that had been damaged during the fighting had to be completely replaced. The new engine had been mounted successfully and was undergoing final testing. Matheson could hear the dissonant thrumming in the hull as his technicians worked to harmonically balance the new engine with the others.
The Hercules was relaunched into orbit as soon as the new engine was installed; the balancing procedure had to be performed in a weightless environment. He was glad to be in space again; sitting in spacedock was not his idea of a good time. He sighed to himself as he rubbed his temple with the palm of his hand in a vain attempt to alleviate his building headache. Shrugging it off, he stood and began to undress for bed. He mentally relaxed, allowing the worries of the day to slip from his mind. He yawned vigorously, allowing a wave of drowsiness to overtake him. Lowering the lights in his cabin, he made his way to bed.
As he was climbing into his bunk, the intercom chimed, signaling a message from the bridge. Cursing at the interruption, he reached out and swatted the respond button. “Please tell me you have a really good reason for bothering me!” he growled. Matheson chuckled to himself as he heard the ensign on the other end of the line nervously clear his throat.
“Uhh…sir, we just received a message from Earth Command. It’s marked ‘Captain’s Eyes Only.’ Would you like me to send it to your terminal?”
Matheson sat up in his bed, instantly alert, his mind racing. He had no idea why anyone at Earth Command would want to speak to him at this time of night.
“Send it down,” he said, all traces of sleepiness gone completely. He got out of bed and moved to the corner of his cabin. His terminal screen glowed a soft blue, with a bright red Message Waiting flag flashing insistently in the center of the screen. He sat down, keyed in his personal security code, and waited for a response. As the message painted itself on the screen, he felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.
Message Dispatch Origin: Ben Vorshauski, President
Urgent Earth Command
Time: 2130
URGENT—At 2100 a communication was intercepted from the Jerrollite star system that seems to indicate that a new invasion force is on its way. Long-range scans have confirmed this. Initial estimates are that three thousand Jerrollite battleships have departed their system and are now heading this way. You are to assemble any and all forces you have at your command and proceed on an intercept course. You are authorized to use any weapon you have at your disposal. We will contact you en route with any data we can obtain. All personnel have been recalled and should arrive within the hour. You must depart as soon as they are on board.
Our prayers are with you.
End Transmission
Matheson was stunned as he read the message again, allowing it to penetrate his outer layer of shock and disbelief. He had known all along that the possibility of a counterattack existed but never believed it could happen so soon. He looked at the message again, hardly believing what his own eyes told him was true. It was practically a death warrant for his entire command. There was no way he could match the firepower of three thousand battleships, even on a good day, which this most certainly was not. His fleet was still in shambles, with only a handful of his main battleships ready for service. Hell, he thought, the Hercules just came back to one hundred percent operational status last week.
Matheson pressed a key on the terminal to print the message. He picked up the piece of paper, holding it gingerly in his hands. Matheson entered a number into the intercom system and asked Mark to join him in his cabin. Switching channels on the intercom, he addressed the bridge.
“All hands, this is General Matheson. The Jerrollite fleet is on its way back.” He paused for a moment to let that news sink in. “We have been ordered to intercept and attempt to destroy it before it reaches our space. Prepare for departure in one hour.”
He lifted his hand from the intercom. A gentle chime sounded at his door.
“Come,” he said.
The door slid open to reveal Mark Hunter with an incredulous look in his eyes.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“Deadly, Mark, deadly. You know as well as I do that we don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of winning. The last intelligence we have puts the number of Jerrollite ships at three thousand. The most we can do is attempt to stall them and hope for a miracle. What’s our current status?”
Mark swallowed hard before answering. “Well, the Hercules is basically one hundred percent. We’ve got a bit of fine-tuning left to do on the new engine, but it is operational. We lost several TAC-WING fighters in the last battle that have not been replaced, but the three wings still onboard have been completely refurbished and are ready to go.”
“What about Earthside?”
“Nothing, sir. We were able to muster three additional cargo freighters and equip them with laser cannon, but that’s it. The Jerrollites did a pretty efficient job of wiping out our military capability completely,” said Mark, a grim expression on his face.
“That’s just about what I thought. Not even a snowball’s chance in hell,” said Matheson.
Both men stood in a somber silence, mulling over their current predicament. It was hard to believe that their victory would be so short-lived. Both men jumped as a buzzer sounded over the intercom. Matheson slammed his fist down on the respond button, making no attempt to hide his irritation this time.
“WHAT?” he said.
“Sir, we are receiving a communication from outside the solar system.”
Mark and General Matheson looked at each other in surprise.
“Where is it coming from?” asked Mark.
“I don’t really know, sir. It would appear to be coming from the approaching fleet, but I can’t really be sure. All I can tell is that it is definitely not originating from Earth.”
“All right, we’ll be right up. Matheson out.” He quickly put on his uniform and headed for the bridge. Mark was right behind him.
As the two men burst onto the bridge, all the frenzied activity ceased. Matheson made his way to the center.
“Comm Officer, what’s the status of the message?”
“They are still sending, sir. It would appear to be a loop of some kind. It appears they ar—” the ensign’s eyes were as large as saucers as he turned toward the general.
“Sir! The message is in English! And they are talking about you!”
“On speakers,” Matheson said.
Everyone on the bridge listened intently, not really knowing what to expect.
“Attention, Earth Command. This is the Razer, flagship of the Jerrollite empire. You are accused of the criminal act of rebellion against the empire. This rebellion was masterminded by one called Matheson. Because of his insurrection and your willingness to follow him, your world has been scheduled for termination. Sentence will be ca
rried out immediately upon our arrival. Razer out.”
The message began to repeat, droning out the death sentence of billions of people.
“Cut that thing off!” said Matheson. The ensign on the comm board scrambled to obey. Mark had never seen Matheson so upset. He was pacing the bridge, muttering to himself. Mark saw a dark resolve on his face as he came to a decision. Matheson stopped pacing and turned to the communications officer.
“Comm, open a channel to the Razer.”
“Open, sir.”
“Attention commander of Razer.”
The general caught Mark’s eye, and a twinkle shone in his own. A gravelly voice emanated from the speaker. Matheson addressed the alien commander.
“This is General Matheson of the Hercules. In response to your previous message,” Matheson paused for dramatic effect, “go screw yourself!” After a moment of shock, nervous laughter filled the bridge. Motioning to the comm officer to cut the channel before the alien commander could reply, he pulled out his cigar, placed it in his mouth, and began chomping on it in a smug fashion. Mark grinned, amazed at the testosterone levels in the general’s bloodstream.
“Mark, come with me,” said Matheson. Turning to address the ship he said, “Continue preparations. We depart in forty-five minutes.” He spun on his heel and headed for the planning room.
Matheson locked the door and sat down at the table. Mark eyed him carefully, not knowing exactly what the general was up to. Matheson signaled the comm officer.
“Patch in a channel to the president of Earth Command.”
“Yes, sir.”
The general continued to eye Mark while they were waiting for the call to go through. Neither man said anything. A soft chime signaled that the connection had been made.
“I heard your usual eloquence in your response, General.”
“Thank you, Mr. President. I tried to present just the right amount of fear.”
“An admirable job, Roy,” said President Vorshauski.
“Thanks. Sir, I want to send Mark here on a little side trip in preparation for the upcoming battle. As you know, we can’t stop the approaching Jerrollite forces with the ships at our disposal, so I want to send Mark to the Jerrollite home world and use the black hole generator on their planet.”
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