“Time to intercept?”
“Two hours, nine minutes, sir.”
“Notify me when we are fifteen minutes from intercept. I’ll be in my cabin.” Matheson stood and left the bridge.
In his cabin he sat at his desk and poured himself a glass of his best rotgut whiskey, but he could not bring himself to drink it, even though there was a very real possibility that this would be the last time he would ever have the opportunity to do so. Instead he sat in his cabin and reflected on his life, the paths he had taken as well as the ones he had left behind. There had been a woman once, but that relationship had failed. His first love was the military, and nothing else could stand in the way of that. Sometimes it was a lonely life, but he was doing what he loved, and most people could never say that. He laid his head down on his desk, closing his eyes, allowing the sounds of the ship—no, his ship—to calm his senses. His brain gradually relaxed as the soft song of the stars lulled him into a gentle sleep.
His dreams were interrupted by a soft chime from the intercom. Groggily he reached over and tapped the respond button. “Yes?”
“We are fifteen minutes from the Jerrollite fleet, sir.”
He was instantly alert. “Very well. All hands to battle stations!” he said. Alert sirens began sounding the call to battle all over the ship.
Running his hand through his hair, he stood and straightened his uniform, placed his stogie in his mouth, and looked at himself in the mirror. “You are one meanlookin’ muther, boy. Time to go kick some Jerrollite ass!” Adrenaline pumping, Matheson made his way to the bridge.
When the doors to the bridge slid open, the comm officer greeted him with a welcome message.
“I just finished transmitting the message to TAC-WING One, sir. Colonel Hunter acknowledged and said he understood. He informs that he is still about an hour away from his target.”
Matheson acknowledged the comm officer’s report with a nod. He made his way to the center of the bridge. “Comm, patch me in with all the other ships in our fleet on a secure channel.”
After a brief moment, the young officer said, “You’re on, sir.”
“Okay, Commanders, this is it. The main objective today is one of delay. If we can delay this fleet long enough, we can buy Colonel Hunter the time he needs to complete his mission. Our attack will concentrate on their flagship, Razer. Do not attempt to engage any other ships on an individual basis. We will attack the flagship in unison, in close proximity. That should keep the other ships from firing at us for the time being for fear of hitting their own flagship. Any questions?” Several negative replies came back. “Excellent. All ships implement attack formation now and open fire only on my command. Matheson out.” The general walked over and stood behind his helmsman.
“Scan the approaching fleet and find the largest ship. That should be the Razer.”
“Scanning…Found it, sir. Course locked in.”
“Relay the coordinates to the other ships and implement course change now.”
The Hercules made a minor course correction that would bring it into a direct collision course with the approaching Jerrollite flagship. The other captains made the same corrections until each ship was oriented directly toward the Razer. The group of ships together formed an arrowhead, aimed straight for the heart of the approaching Jerrollite fleet.
Matheson chomped his cigar in nervous anticipation of the impending attack. Everyone was startled by a shrill beeping sound coming from the comm board.
“Sir, incoming message from the Jerrollites.”
“On screen, Comm.”
Once again the view of the star field was replaced, not by a human face, but instead by a blue-skinned alien. Matheson growled under his breath as the Jerrollite began to speak, surprisingly, in English.
“Math-eee-soon, do you come to surrender yourself? It is too late for that. You have broken our laws and must pay the price. After we destroy your pitiful ship and laughable fleet, we will destroy your planet as well.”
“We’re not here to surrender. You will cease and desist your militant behavior, or we will be forced to destroy you,” Matheson said aggressively.
Gales of sneering laughter erupted from the screen. The contempt in the Jerrollite’s face was evident. Glaring down, he spat on the floor of his ship.
“I’ll take that as your answer, then. See you in hell,” Matheson said.
The Jerrollite commander turned a deeper shade of blue as his eyes began to bulge out in rage. Matheson made a cutting motion to signal the end of the conversation. The comm officer severed the link. The Jerrollite’s image was replaced by the alien fleet once again, looming large on the screen.
“Well, here goes nothin’,” Matheson said, motioning the helm to proceed. He sat down heavily in his chair as once again the engines flared, pushing the Hercules headlong into the jaws of death.
CHAPTER 25
The tiny TAC-WING fighter shuddered violently as Mark ordered the hyperspace field to shut down. With a loud moan, the ship once again emerged into normal space. Checking the chronometer, he noticed that a little over three hours had passed in real time, but to him and Johann it seemed like only a few minutes. He switched on his intercom.
“Jo, are you okay?” Mark asked, turning around. Johann was holding his head in his hands, moaning softly. Mark asked again, more insistently. “Jo! Are you okay?” Johann looked up at Mark with a slightly glazed look in his eyes.
“Mon, I don’ tink I ever felt anythin’ like dat before!” he replied, shaking his head, attempting to regain his composure.
“Well, shake it out, man. We’re coming up on the Jerrollite system in just a couple of minutes, and I want you at one hundred percent.” Johann continued to shake his head, slowly reorienting himself to his surroundings.
“I’ll be all right in a minute. Just turn around and drive!”
Mark chuckled and turned back around in his seat. As he scanned his boards, a flashing light alerted him to an incoming message from the Hercules. Wondering if anything had gone wrong, he reached over and activated his communications system. Voice transmission was not possible because of the great distances involved, but it was possible to send and receive data packets between systems. Mark fine-tuned his receiver, making sure that it was locked on to the carrier frequency being transmitted by the Hercules. The message was decoded and displayed on the screen. Mark scanned it and felt a sense of relief wash over him. He had been thinking about having to destroy an entire planet and did not relish the thought of killing billions of life-forms, even if they were Jerrollites.
While the fighter was still well out of range of any planetary sensing systems, Mark engaged the electronic countermeasures this TAC-WING was equipped with, effectively hiding his presence from anyone below. Running down a quick equipment checklist, Mark and Johann ran checks on all their weapons and support systems.
“Everything looks like it came through the hyperspace field okay,” said Mark.
“My boards check out green,” said Johann.
Mark chose not to notice that his friend had dropped his Jamaican accent, a sure sign that he was scared.
“Relax, Jo, we’re gonna be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just feel a lot better when we can get the hell out of here,” Johann said.
Mark and Johann engaged their scanners and began looking for the source of the power transmissions. The Jerrollite system had four moons, each approximately the same size as Earth’s. They were spaced at equidistant positions around the equator of the planet. The planet itself was roughly twice the size of Earth, with about the same proportion of land to sea. The only noticeable difference was the brilliant blue haze that seemed to pervade the entire planet, making it look like a giant sapphire hanging in space. After a brief scan, the computer locked in on a massive power source on one of the moons. The display in Mark’s visor lit up like a Christmas tree, pinpointing the position of the generators.
“My God! Look at the power coming from tha
t moon, Johann! That has to be at least…what…over five million terawatts!”
Johann swallowed hard. He had never seen anything of that magnitude in his life. Even under the best of circumstances, nothing human could come close to producing that much power.
“Whatever you do, boy, make sure you don’t cross that power beam!” Johann said nervously. “Let’s set down on the moon straight across from the one with the generators…there!” He pointed to the moon nearest to them currently, which would give them a direct line of fire for the singularity generator. Mark keyed the landing sequence into his flight computer and began to descend to the surface, disregarding all the landing procedures that dictated a slow approach speed. He wanted to get his ship down before they were spotted by any passing patrols in the area. He nosed the TAC-WING into a dive straight toward the moon’s cratered surface, causing Johann to gasp. Swinging in less than five hundred feet above the gray surface, they flew around the area, surveying the terrain for a suitably level spot on which to set the fighter down.
“I got a plain coming up at two seven mark four,” said Johann from the back seat.
Mark could see the plain coming up over the horizon. It was level and relatively free of obstructions. “I see it. That looks like as good a place as any to set this thing up. Here we go.”
Mark brought the ship down in a perfect spiral, ending up in the shadow of a large mountain next to the plain to avoid any possible visual detection. As the ship came to rest, a brief cloud of dust and debris spewed up but quickly settled as Mark and Johann shut down the ship’s systems.
Both men sealed their pressure helmets and started the flow of oxygen into their suits. Mark turned to look at Johann and tapped the side of his helmet as an indication to turn his radio on. Johann responded by hitting the comm button on the sleeve of his suit.
“You there, Johann?”
“Ready, boy. I got green on my suit. Pressure is okay; I’m ready to pump down.”
“Okay, here we go.”
Mark activated the sequence that would pump the atmospheric pressure in the cabin down to zero so that they could open the hatch without losing any air from the ship. A soft hissing sound was all Mark and Johann could hear as a gauge on the panel indicated that the pressure was falling rapidly. As the needle on the gauge touched the bottom peg, a small light flashed red when the atmospheric pressure finally reached zero. Mark looked at Johann to make sure everything was okay. Johann looked back at him and gave a thumbs-up. Mark reached up and jerked the handle that would release the cockpit cover. At first the handle would not budge, but it finally gave way. The cover slid backward, exposing Mark and Johann to the hard vacuum of open space.
Even for a seasoned veteran, it was difficult not to be taken aback by the sight. Stars seemed to leap out of a coal-black night sky as the surface of the moon stood out in brilliant contrast to the blackness, reflecting back the light from the local sun.
“Man, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Mark said breathlessly.
“I sure hope I never do. I think I’ll retire if it ever happens,” said Johann.
They climbed out of the ship and down to the surface. Using a handheld scanner, Mark took several preliminary readings from the surface.
“Surface temperature is approximately minus two hundred twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit. No oxygen or any other gases. Surface gravity is approximately point seven five Earth normal. Radiation levels are nominal.” Folding the scanner back into its pouch, Mark replaced it in his pack. “We should be okay for a couple of hours. Let’s get to work.” The men went around to the rear of the ship to unload the generator.
Carefully lowering the equipment to the ground, they began the arduous task of setting it up. Mark constantly checked the surrounding area for any signs of detection, aware that if they were caught out in the open like they were now, they would be defenseless. The thought did not make Mark happy.
After working nonstop for over an hour, both men stood back and surveyed their handiwork. The generator was ready to fire as far as they could tell. They had no way of testing the weapon without attracting attention to themselves, so they hoped for the best. Johann punched the coordinates of the Jerrollite moon into the targeting computer and stepped back. The tracking system on the generator brought the nose up and aligned it precisely with the Jerrollite moon.
“Good job, Johann! Let’s contact the general and see if he’s ready for us to fire,” said Mark.
“You go ahead; I have a couple more adjustments to make before we can actually fire this thing.” Johann turned back to his work and began to go over all the connections on the generator, making sure they were tight and everything was hooked up correctly. Mark climbed back into the cockpit of the TAC-WING and attempted to establish communication with the Hercules. Powering up the system, he keyed in a recognition code and transmitted it. Almost immediately he received a response from the system aboard the Hercules. Typing in his message, he informed the general that everything was ready and once again hit the transmit button. The reply came back quickly.
“ENGAGING ENEMY FLEET AS WE SPEAK. PREPARE TO FIRE ON MY COMMAND!”
Mark sent back a quick acknowledgment and tied the shipboard communication system into their suit comms. He had to get outside again and inform Johann of the situation. Mark noticed a small vibration in the hull of the TAC-WING and assumed that Johann was coming up the access ladder. He grabbed the edge of the cockpit to hoist himself out. A blue face appeared over the edge of the cockpit, glaring at him.
The space-suited alien was brandishing a weapon in Mark’s face, motioning him to get out of the cockpit. The alien backed down the ladder so Mark could follow, never failing to point its weapon in his direction. Weighing his options carefully, he decided that it would probably be best to go along with the alien for right now. They didn’t have much time; the Hercules was engaged in a losing battle while they dealt with this situation. He climbed out of the cockpit slowly, under the constant prodding of the armed Jerrollite. Mark glanced over and saw that Johann had already been taken captive and was being held well away from the generator. Hoping that his captor could not monitor their frequency, Mark tried to talk to Johann, speaking softly and barely moving his lips.
“Jo! Can you hear me?” he said.
“Yeah, but every time this guard sees me say anything, it threatens me with its gun! Man, this really bites, don’t it!”
“We don’t have time for this. If we don’t fire that generator soon, the Hercules is going to be destroyed! I tied the ship communications into our suits. Right now we are waiting on the order to fire. When the order comes, we will simply have to get to the generator and fire it.”
The two men watched as the Jerrollite soldiers, afraid to touch the generator, attempted to ascertain its function. Several of them were standing around it, pointing and then gesticulating wildly. Mark surveyed the situation, looking for an avenue of escape or at least enough of a distraction to give him time to fire the generator.
He glanced at the chronometer on his wrist and grew more anxious. It had been over five minutes since the general had told him to prepare to fire. He could only hope and pray that the Hercules and the others could hold out long enough. He watched the Jerrollite soldiers closely, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The clock continued to tick.
CHAPTER 26
The Jerrollite fleet rapidly grew closer as the Hercules bore down on it. General Matheson was busy barking orders to his bridge crew, getting them ready for the fight of their lives.
“Bring all weapons online, shields up to full strength.”
“Weapons charged, sir; shields up and at one hundred percent.”
“Comm, put me in contact with the other ships.”
“Contact established, sir.”
“Attention, commanders, this is General Matheson. Bring your ships in close to mine in a triangle formation. Once we engage the enemy, the Hercules will stay in front of the flagship while the r
est of you break up and attack her from all sides at once. Any questions?” Only the soft hiss of a radio carrier wave answered. “Good. You may open fire as soon as we are in range. Good luck, Matheson out.”
The comm officer cut the connection to the other ships. Matheson clenched his fist in frustration, knowing their situation was almost completely hopeless. They didn’t stand a chance against the combined strength of the Jerrollite armada. Their only hope for survival lay with Mark and Johann.
“In range, sir,” said the weapons officer.
“Open fire!” said Matheson, a deadly, sinister tone in his voice.
The nose of the Hercules erupted in a blaze of fire, energy beams lancing out toward the approaching Jerrollite ships. As the first beam struck the flagship, its energy was rapidly dissipated by its shields, casting a dull green glow over the combat scene. The Hercules slowed to a stop not more than five hundred meters in front of the ship, continually blasting away, delivering a pounding to the shields of the enemy ship. The other ships in the Earth fleet broke off from the main formation, taking up positions all around the Jerrollite flagship to form a gauntlet with the alien ship trapped inside. As each gun swiveled into position and began firing, the Jerrollite ship was almost obscured as her shields flared and began to buckle under the onslaught. The other ships in the Jerrollite fleet couldn’t fire on the Earth ships without the risk of hitting their own flagship, so they simply sat by, waiting for the opportunity to strike. From the bridge of the Hercules, Matheson could sense an impending kill.
“Keep firing! They can’t withstand that kind of barrage for very long!” he said.
Almost as if in response to Matheson’s statement, the forward shield of the alien ship buckled, as a full-power weapons blast from the Hercules impacted its hull. At the alien ship’s he hull began to disintegrate, Matheson was startled to see the intensity of the beam begin to waver.
“What’s happening?”
“Sir! Weapons are beginning to overheat! We must stop firing, or they’re going to melt down!” shouted the weapons officer.
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