Gravitys Hammer

by Jerry Reynolds

  “Any questions?” Mark glanced at each man in turn, giving him the opportunity to speak. “Good. Gather up your belongings and follow Johann to the special quarters we’ve set up for you. Get a good rest period in because you’re going to need it! Good day, gents.” Mark caught Johann’s eye and grinned.

  “Atten…hut!” Johann roared as he returned Mark’s grin.

  Each man bolted to attention, startled by the ferocity of Johann’s voice. As Mark left the room, Johann was shouting about one thing or another, and each man was trying to stand as stiffly as possible, terrified of drawing attention to himself. It was good to be on top of the military food chain for once, Mark thought. He chuckled to himself as he continued down the corridor. Coming around a bend, Mark spotted General Matheson and hailed him.

  “General, I need to talk to you. We need to go over some equipment requirements and timelines for the mission,” Mark said, falling into step beside him.

  Matheson stopped and turned to Mark, removing his cigar from his mouth so that he could speak. “I’m giving you carte blanche on your requests. Take what you need. You can see the quartermaster down on Deck Twenty-Seven for your supplies.” Stuffing his cigar back into his mouth, he continued, “Report to me when your team is ready to depart.” He spun on his heel and left Mark standing alone.

  After Mark finished his procurement duties, he decided to look up Johann and buy him that drink he had promised. He stopped at the nearest intercom panel and punched in the code for Johann’s cabin.

  “Johann, you up for a drink?”

  “Sure, mon. Always time for a cool one.”

  “I’ll see you in the officers’ club in five, okay?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Mark clicked off the intercom and made his way to the club. On a battleship with such a large crew, it was important for people to have a place to let off a little steam every now and then. The officers’ club was pretty Spartan in comparison with some of the better planet-side establishments, but the drinks were free, and the company was good. Mark entered the lounge and seated himself at a table away from the main concentration of people. He did not really feel like being sociable, his mind occupied with the details of the upcoming mission.

  Johann entered the club with his usual flamboyance, dressed in some of the wildest clothes Mark had ever seen. He made his way over to Mark’s table.

  “Those clothes aren’t exactly regulation, are they?”

  “Not really, but I figured what the hell? I might not ever get to wear ’em again, right?”

  Mark grinned, unable to come up with a valid argument. Johann slid into the seat opposite Mark.

  “How do the troops look?” asked Mark.

  “Oh, they’ll be okay. Some of ’em are kinda green around the gills, but as a whole, I think they’ll be able to get the job done.”

  Mark was relieved to hear that. He trusted Johann’s assessment of men more than anyone else’s, even his own. He stared aimlessly into the amber liquid of his drink.

  “You know, Matheson gave us whatever I asked for. Didn’t even question me when I requested one of the new TAC transports. Just signed a blank order and told me to get whatever I wanted.”

  “The old man is goin’ all out, eh?” Johann said.

  “Yeah. Means he must be serious about our success.”

  “That or he’s giving us a grand send-off for our funeral.”

  The men eyed each other. Matheson was usually conservative, holding as much as possible in reserve. If he was willing to throw everything into a first effort, it could only mean that this was going to be their only chance. Shrugging it off, Johann tossed down the rest of his drink. Mark quickly followed suit.

  “Let’s hit it, brother. I think we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  “Good idea. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  They exited the club and headed for their quarters to try to get some rest before launch time. Both knew it was probably going to be a wasted effort but felt they should at least try.

  CHAPTER 8

  As the team was assembling in the cargo bay, General Matheson approached Mark to brief him on the plan for his team’s mission. As Matheson drew near, Mark could tell he was tense by the set of his shoulders and the grim look on his face. Matheson knew the continued existence of the human race as free beings depended on the outcome of the mission.

  “Attention on deck!” came the cry. The entire squad quickly fell into formation and faced forward, standing at attention. The general stopped directly in front of the squad and stood with his hands clasped behind his back, ready to address the men.

  “We will reach our drop point in approximately thirty minutes. The Hercules has been moved to a position on the far side of the moon to avoid Jerrollite detection. Your job is to recover the weapons and the weapons designers at all costs! Do you understand?” he asked. Several affirmative responses emanated from the group.

  “Good luck, men. Our future is in your hands.” Turning to Mark, he said, “Drop will be on my command. Get your men into the transport.”

  “Yes, sir,” Mark said. After saluting the general, he turned to his team.

  “All right, you mama’s boys, load ’em up!” Mark said, his voice reverberating through the bay.

  With a shout, each soldier gathered up his gear and began to climb into the TAC transport, a craft generally used for transporting men and critical goods into high-risk situations. Mark looked at its squat, round shape and chuckled; it reminded him more of a fishbowl than a spacecraft. After the last man had boarded, Mark climbed into the cockpit and secured the ship’s main hatch. A hissing sound emanated from nozzles in the wall as the cabin began to pressurize in preparation for departure. Mark took his place in the pilot’s seat, buckling himself in. Toggling the intercom switch, he addressed the men in the back.

  “Make ready for planetfall, gentlemen. We’re gonna make a power dive straight into the atmosphere to avoid detection, so I can’t promise that the ride is going to be very smooth.”

  Each man took the hint to double-check his safety harness and cinch it up even tighter. Mark’s reputation as a pilot had preceded him with several members of the team; he could tell by the look of dread on several faces. He overheard two men in the back of the cabin.

  “You know, Jim, you better hang on to your shorts. The old man is flying this bucket, and he don’t pull no punches.”

  Jim’s gulp was audible, even in the cockpit.

  Smiling, with just a hint of a mischievous glint in his eye, Mark prepared for a takeoff that these guys would never forget. To his right the comm unit crackled to life.

  “Transport One, you are cleared for launch.” Grinning devilishly, Mark slammed the throttle lever forward to maximum thrust. The transport screamed down the launch rails, gaining speed with every second.

  “Oh my God, we’re gonna die!” Mark heard Jim moan under his breath. Checking the passenger video monitor, he could see the soldier turning a little green around the edges. The transport leapt free from the launch tube, bursting through the atmosphere containment field. Switching the view screen to an aft view, Mark saw the Hercules receding rapidly from view. Satisfied, he switched the view forward in time to see the crescent of Earth appear just over the horizon of the moon.

  As Mark guided the transport toward their destiny, he tried to relax a little while he had the chance. Johann stuck his head through the cockpit access hatch.

  “Are you having fun up here?” he asked, a cross expression on his face. “I got guys pukin’ their guts up back here.”

  “Sorry, Jo. Just trying to get ’em ready for the hellfire.”

  “Oh, man! You’re gonna use the hellfire maneuver?”

  Mark’s eyes lit up in anticipation.

  “Yeah. Go back and get ’em ready. We’re coming up on atmospheric insertion in…” Mark checked the chronometer, “three minutes.”

  Johann shook his head, retreating to the cargo bay where his men were.
He stood in front, addressing the entire squad.

  “Suck your seats and grab ahold, boys—we’re goin’ in!” Johann laughed, amused by the obvious displeasure on the faces surrounding him. Several moans came from the rear of the cabin.

  Executing a violent swing around, Mark flipped the transport 180 degrees on its axis, placing the heat-resistant rear shield toward the atmosphere. He heard the familiar tortured shriek as the thick air buffeted the transport, causing the heat shield to glow a fiery red. The air pounded at the hull of the transport, sending horrendous sounds reverberating through the ship. Glancing at the monitor, Mark could see the anxiety in the men’s faces. Having compassion for his squad, Mark toggled the intercom.

  “No sweat, guys. Everything is completely normal so far. All systems are nominal.” Mark finished his announcement as the screeching abruptly ceased, causing a momentary silence to fall inside the transport. Pirouetting the craft so its nose was facing down toward the surface, Mark deployed his atmospheric maneuvering engines. With a loud clank, the engines fired up and began to whine loudly as they sucked thin atmosphere into their intakes, combined it with fuel, and blew it out the back, thrusting the transport forward. The renewed thrust pushed everyone back into their seats as the engines fully engaged with the atmosphere. Mark saw mixed signs of relief on the faces of the men as they realized the reentry had been successful but were unsure of what was coming next. Johann simply sat in front and displayed a wide, toothy grin.

  As the ship descended, Mark brought up a topographical coordinate map on his screen, pinpointing their location. The ship was approximately thirty-five miles north of the emergency relocation area where the scientists should be hiding, assuming they had been able to escape from the Pentagon.

  “Brace for hellfire…”

  Mark kept the nose of the craft straight down, giving the engines maximum throttle. If the men in back had had Mark’s view, he would have had an instant mutiny on his hands. The hellfire maneuver provided a planned, controlled way of reaching the surface of a planet as rapidly as possible. The only problem was, to the uninitiated, it looked more like a serious attempt at suicide.

  As the ship broke through the upper cloud cover, Mark throttled back, forcing the ship into a last-minute braking maneuver, whipping up a cushion of air that slowed their descent. He fired the landing thrusters to complete their descent to the surface. Stirring up a small cloud of dust, the transport settled into a grove of large, bushy trees that looked like they would give adequate aerial cover. As the touchdown light came on, automatic systems on the ship kicked in and scanned the area for alien life-forms. Mark checked the readings, relieved that they were all negative. He gave the all clear signal to open the hatch. Unbuckling his seat harness, he made his way back into the crew compartment.

  “Okay, men, gather your gear and get outside. The area is clear, but we want to use standard camouflage to hide the transport,” Mark said.

  Everyone stood up, somewhat shaky in the knees but otherwise none the worse for wear. Each man began to make his way out of the hatch and down the access ladder. Returning to the cockpit, Mark entered a security code that would disable the ship until the code was reentered. As an additional precaution, he enabled the automatic self-destruct if the wrong code was entered. Satisfied, he disembarked and sealed the hatch.

  “Sergeant! Break out the maps of this area, and let’s find out where we are,” Mark said.

  A gruff-looking man roughly fifty years old came out from behind the crowd of soldiers. He unrolled a map and placed it on the ground in front of him, squatting down to examine it. The alternative recovery area was a cave located in a mountain range to the south. Mark could see the mountains in question, but to his dismay the city lay between them and their goal.

  “Do you think we have time to go around the city?” asked Mark.

  The sergeant considered his options for a moment, standing to look at the distance between their location and the mountain range.

  “I figure if we go around, it’ll take at least a week to reach the cave. That cave is supposed to have four days’ worth of survival equipment and supplies, so to my thinkin’, we really don’t have a choice. If we go through the city, we can get there in two days, maybe faster if we can appropriate some kind of transport from the Jerrollites,” he said.

  Mark exhaled heavily. “I think you’re right, Sergeant. The only problem is I’m afraid we might be leading the Christians to the arena to be fed to the lions.”

  The sergeant looked at Mark carefully. “I don’t think so, sir. Every man on this squad had family on Earth when the Jerrollites attacked. They want nothing more than a chance to scrap with the blue devils and give ’em some of their own!”

  Mark looked at the men as they went about their duties. He could tell by the grim sets of their faces and the intensity with which they did everything that they only had one thing on their minds—revenge.

  He could see the hurt and pain in their expressions. He also saw a dark cloud of hatred. If these feelings went unchecked, they would cloud their judgment in battle, which could cost them their lives. Standing on one of the engine pods, Mark called his men to his side. They gathered around, waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “I know what each and every one of you want, and I understand how you all feel. My feelings are the same.” He paused a moment and then continued. “Those feelings must be laid aside.” A rebellious grumble came from the assembled men. “Ultimate victory over the Jerrollites can only be achieved if our mission is successful. If you have any personal feelings or vendettas that are going to interfere with this mission, put them aside now. The best way we can protect our families and honor our dead is to serve here and now, without question. A time for revenge will come later.” He edged the intensity of his voice up a notch. “NOT NOW!”

  Dead silence fell over the squad as they looked first at one another and then at Mark. Their faces had hardened into stone; no one moved as the sergeant came forward to speak.

  “We’re behind you, Colonel,” he said. All the men nodded in agreement. Mark felt a wave of relief wash over him.

  “That’s good to know, Sergeant. All right, men, get your gear together. We move out in ten minutes!”

  The squad burst into a flurry of activity. Mark surveyed his group, wondering if any of them were up to the task set before them. Never before in human history had anyone had a mission of such importance. His men had a righteous flame burning in their hearts and the desire to avenge the wrong that had been done to each and every one of them.

  God help any Jerrollite that got in their way.

  CHAPTER 9

  Climbing down from the engine pod, Mark signaled his squad. “All right! Let’s move out!”

  The squad began moving around with a crisp military orderliness, gathering the materials they were going to need. Motioning for the sergeant to join him, Mark instructed him to pick a man to stay with the ship, someone who could bring it to the recovery area if they needed to blast their way out. The sergeant looked over the men milling around and picked a tall, broad-shouldered young man named Reeves. He called him over.

  “Front and center, Reeves!” the sergeant said. Reeves responded quickly, bounding forward and standing stiffly at attention in front of the sergeant.

  “At ease, mister,” Mark said. Reeves relaxed into parade rest. “I need you to stay with the ship while we go in,” Mark said. Reeves started to object but was silenced by a look from the sergeant. “Here is the access code for the computer system.” Mark handed him a small scrap of paper. “Memorize it and destroy that paper.” Reeves looked at it for a moment, committing the number to memory, and shredded the paper into small bits.

  “Make damn sure you remember the code. You will only get one chance to enter it. Make a mistake, and the ship explodes.”

  Reeves swallowed hard. “I wish I was going with you, sir,” he said.

  “Your time will come soon enough. Just make sure you’re ready when we
call. When you come, come in on the deck, flat out, guns blazing. Got it?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, sir!” he said, evidently pleased at the prospect of action against the Jerrollites.

  Satisfied that Reeves could handle the assignment, Mark walked to the front of the formation and signaled for everyone to move out. The ship had landed in a secluded area that provided excellent cover all the way to the edge of the city. The column of men made good time toward the city limits. After about an hour of steady, double-time walking, the squad came upon a clearing roughly two hundred yards wide. Not wanting to risk crossing during daylight, Mark ordered the men to sit down, rest, and wait for dark.

  “We have a long march tonight so take the opportunity to get some rest while you have the chance. You may not have time later. We move out at dark.”

  Everyone dispersed into the wooded area at the edge of the clearing and sat down, all the while keeping an eye on their surroundings for Jerrollite patrols. Mark made his way back to Johann and the sergeant, dropped his pack, and sat down heavily.

  “It’s been a long time since I did this type of thing,” Mark said, removing his boots and massaging his sore feet.

  The sergeant chuckled quietly, but Johann couldn’t resist the opportunity for some ribbing. “What’s the matter, boy? Been sittin’ behind a desk too long?” They shared a laugh.

  Mark responded by making his voice sound as stern as possible. “I trust that if for some reason I’m unable to continue, you will carry on in my stead?”

  They erupted into laughter. Mark shook his head in disgust, ignoring both of them. He adjusted his pack in a vain attempt to make a comfortable place to lie down. After finally getting into a somewhat restful position, Mark sat back and looked out over the city, noting the mass destruction that had occurred everywhere. It looked more like a bombed-out wreck from WWII than a modern, clean city. The industrial and business sections had been hit the hardest; the destruction was almost complete in those areas. A dark, smoky haze had settled over what was left of the city, covering an area as far as the eye could see with a shroud of death and destruction. As Mark looked out over the nightmarish scene, he couldn’t help imagining the anguished screams of the people who had been murdered by the Jerrollites.