Mark stared wide-eyed in disbelief. A rage overcame him. He leapt from the ground and dove toward the Jerrollite that had just gunned down Johann, reaching him before he could react.
Mark caught the alien full in the midsection. The weapon flew to one side as both of them went down thrashing. Mark’s hand closed on the air feed into the Jerrollite’s suit. He grasped it firmly, pulling the alien’s helmet around to where he could see the evil blue face as it died. Mark yanked the tube free from its socket, causing a plume of atmosphere to leak out. Even as the atmosphere crystallized and began to fall, the Jerrollite writhed in agony as the pressure inside his body began to press outward. His face turned a shade of blue that Mark had never seen before, just before it burst inside the helmet, smearing a blue liquid all over the inside of the visor.
Mark staggered back in surprise and was immediately kicked in the midsection by one of the other Jerrollite guards. He rolled with the kick, absorbing the impact and using its momentum to carry him away from the rest of the guards. He landed on something hard—one of the energy weapons the Jerrollites were using. Unable to believe his good fortune, he snatched it up as he rolled, bringing himself up to one knee and firing a sustained burst into the crowd of onrushing attackers. Three of the Jerrollites fell dead instantly, the unfortunate recipients of the brunt of Mark’s attack. All three had large holes burned into their torsos. The others began to flee as Mark continued to fire, picking them off one by one. They attempted to return fire but were immediately cut down by blasts from Mark’s gun. As the last Jerrollite fell, the alien weapon sputtered, its energy supply exhausted.
Mark stumbled in exhaustion, falling to his knees and letting the spent alien weapon drop from his grasp. His body was shaking from the surge of adrenaline. His rage slowly subsided, and he surveyed the scene before him.
All around lay dead Jerrollites. The generator was still waiting patiently to be fired, oblivious to the battle that had just been fought. Mark’s eyes fell on the crumpled form of Johann at the base of the generator. He staggered over to the TAC-WING to check his communication board. The screen was lit up with a single word: Fire! Mark slammed his hand down on the acknowledge button and slid back down the ladder. He moved as fast as he could toward the generator, stumbling on a small rock and landing in a heap next to Johann’s body. The bloody form of his friend filled him with the resolve he needed to continue. Pulling himself up, he staggered over to the fire control panel and placed his hand on the firing lever. Looking up once again at the Jerrollite moon, Mark gritted his teeth and slammed the lever home.
He heard an ominous crackle over his headset as the generator built up a charge. He bent over and grabbed Johann’s suit, dragging him to a sheltered spot behind a large rock. He ducked down, sheltering Johann’s body with his own. As the charge in the generator reached its peak, a brilliant blue burst of energy erupted from the tip, bolting across the intervening space and striking the distant Jerrollite moon dead center.
A blinding flash of light occurred when the beam struck the moon, causing a microscopic black hole to form deep in its core. Mark watched as the surface seemed to shudder and then began to collapse in on itself. The brilliant blue beam disappeared, and the tiny black hole dissipated. The process that had begun was irreversible, and as Mark watched, the moon collapsed in on itself. A blinding flash of plasma energy was hurled from the center of the event and traveled outward rapidly, creating a stunning halo effect around the entire area. The mass of the moon was compressed more and more until it reached a critical stage. It exploded once again, sending huge chunks of rock and debris hurtling toward the planet below.
With a final thunderous roar, the moon collapsed completely, at the same time creating a massive electromagnetic pulse that discharged along the path of the power beam feeding the Jerrollite home world and all of their ships. The pulse was visible: a massive red and gold dart of fire, lancing its way across space.
Part of the pulse impacted the Jerrollite home world. The surface of the planet erupted into a hellish, fiery scene of death and destruction. The power packs on the suits of the dead Jerrollites around him exploded as the feedback from the pulse struck their ship and was in turn relayed to their suits. Across the plain Mark saw the Jerrollite patrol ship ripped into small fragments by the force of the explosion. The feedback into the alien systems was simply too much for them to handle, and each was overpowered by the pulse and promptly exploded or was made useless by the shock. The surface of the Jerrollite home world seemed to erupt into a massive blaze that quickly spread and consumed everything in its path. Mark felt a grim satisfaction that they had been able to avenge their loved ones at home. He hadn’t wanted to become the instrument of destruction for the Jerrollite race, but he had had no choice. It had been do or die.
A stirring beneath him caused him to look down. Johann was looking up at him, grinning from ear to ear.
“I thought you were dead!” exclaimed Mark. “I saw your suit get punctured when that blue devil shot you!”
“Doon’t ya know, boy, that ya can’t keep a good mon down?”
“How did you survive decompression?”
“Our suits are equipped with emergency pressure bands that seal off different parts of the suit whenever pressure is lost. When I was hit, the bands constricted and probably saved my life. But man, am I gonna have sore ribs when we get home!” Johann laughed again but broke into a fit of coughing that made Mark doubt his ability to make it back to the Hercules.
“C’mon, Jo. Let me help you back to the ship.”
“What about dem Jerrollites, boy?” Johann asked nervously.
Mark grinned as he answered. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about them anymore.” He looked up meaningfully at the Jerrollite planet. Johann followed his gaze and was startled by the scene. Blue fingers of fire continued to dance all over the surface of the planet, causing colossal firestorms that could be seen even from their vantage point.
As both men watched, the largest piece of what had been the Jerrollite moon struck the surface of the planet, sending ripples of tectonic energy through the crust and shaking it to its core. They could only wonder at the amount of destruction the resulting quakes were going to cause.
Johann continued to stare open-mouthed as he reached up and placed his arm around Mark’s shoulders. He let Mark support his weight as they hobbled to their TAC-WING fighter. Brilliant flashes and explosions continued on the surface of the planet as the feedback from the pulse wrought havoc on the Jerrollite home world. As both men watched the scene unfolding on the planet below, they came to the same realization at once.
“If that pulse hit the Jerrollite fleet while the Hercules was in close proximity…” Mark didn’t have to finish his thought. He eased Johann to the ground and tore down the generator as quickly as he could. After storing the equipment in its compartment on the TAC-WING, Mark returned to Johann and helped him up.
“Let’s go, buddy,” said Mark, grunting as Johann shifted his weight onto Mark’s shoulder. They scrambled into the TAC-WING and quickly strapped themselves in. A worried look crossed Johann’s brow as he gripped Mark by the shoulder.
“Mark, there is no way we can make it back in time. You’ve got to use the radio. It’s our only chance.”
“You’re right. I hope they’re listening for us.”
Mark keyed in an urgent message describing the situation with the pulse and the danger the Hercules was facing and pressed the transmit button. A green acknowledge light flashed on his panel.
“Well, that’s that. I sure hope they get it, or we won’t have anything to go home to,” said Mark.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Johann.
“You got it.”
The engines of the TAC-WING roared to life, and the small fighter rose from the surface of the moon. Mark nudged the craft forward, arcing across the surface in a low-altitude pass. Kicking in his turbo thrusters, he executed a perfect barrel roll as the Jerrollite
home world faded from view. He keyed his transmitter again and again, trying to get a response from the Hercules by the sheer force of his will.
“Relax, Mark, there’s nothing else to do,” said Johann.
“Yeah, I know,” Mark said, not wanting to accept Johann’s statement but knowing it was true.
As the TAC-WING climbed out of the Jerrollite system, Mark activated the hyperspace field generator, and the small fighter disappeared out of normal space, leaving behind a burning world with three moons and a glowing red cloud where a fourth moon had once been.
CHAPTER 28
Matheson raised his head, the dull pounding inside providing a constant reminder that he was still alive. Looking down, he noticed that his uniform was caked with blood. Confused as to why he was bleeding, he realized he was suffering the symptoms of shock. He couldn’t remember why until he tried to move his arm. A searing pain shot through his body. He gasped as his arm touched the metal rod protruding from his chest.
Grasping the steel rod, Matheson realized that the shaft was sticky with his own blood. To hell with it, he decided and braced himself. Clenching his teeth, Matheson mustered his courage and pulled. Waves of searing pain washed over him, bringing him to the brink of unconsciousness. The rod slid smoothly out of his body. He let it fall to the deck with a loud clang. Gasping from the intense pain, he placed a hand over the hole in his chest and called for a medic, as he expected to bleed out and die. His world was fading to black very quickly.
His ship was continuing to take a beating as the Jerrollite ships sensed that the end of the battle was near. The Hercules shuddered under the continuous onslaught of enemy fire. Sirens were blaring all over the bridge as system after system either failed completely or was on the verge of doing so. Matheson fought back the waves of pain and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him and looked around the bridge. He assessed the damage and found it difficult to believe that the Hercules had not disintegrated or been blown to bits by now. The ship had been severely abused and would not last much longer.
Despair reared its ugly head as he realized they were not going to make it. It was a shame to have come this far, only to end up being defeated by the Jerrollites. Beating back his desperation, Matheson stood up and staggered back to his command chair. With each impact of an enemy weapon, he almost lost his footing, bracing himself against consoles until he was finally able to collapse into his chair. He felt weak and dizzy from the loss of blood. He looked down at his wound, and somewhere in the far reaches of his mind he realized he was bleeding to death. He turned over in his mind the events of the last few months, wondering if there was anything else that could have been done to win the fight.
“Medic…” he said weakly. A young corpsman burst onto the bridge and sprinted to the general.
“I got here as fast as I could, sir,” he said, pulling Matheson’s hands away from his wound. A worried expression traversed the young man’s face as he opened his emergency medical bag and retrieved a bag of hemostatic blood-clotting agent. The medic poured this over Matheson’s wound and applied pressure.
“Doesn’t look too—” Matheson was interrupted by a racking cough that made his entire body convulse in pain, “good, does it?”
“No, sir, it sure does not. You’re going to need a surgeon to fix you up good ’n’ proper. Here, hold this,” he said, placing a cotton bandage in Matheson’s hand and gently pressing it into the wound. Matheson grimaced in pain as the bandage touched the exposed flesh.
“Sorry ’bout the pain, General. I put medicine on the pad to keep any infection from setting in.”
Matheson squeezed his eyes shut as the corpsman raised his shirt and placed a large gauze bandage over the entry and exit wounds to prevent the lung from collapsing. He tightly wrapped gauze around the general’s chest to hold both bandages in place and keep the wound sealed.
“Okay, sir. You seem to be breathing okay, and those bandages will hold until we get you down to medical.” He motioned for one of the other crew members to help him lift the general out of the chair.
Matheson looked up at the corpsman and put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Hold it, son. I’m not leaving the bridge.” The corpsman hesitated only for a moment before waving off the other people he had summoned.
“It’s against my better judgment, but I understand, sir. Just sit still and get down to medical as soon as possible.” He placed his hand on Matheson’s shoulder. “Okay?” he asked, looking Matheson squarely in the eyes.
“You got it.”
With a curt nod, the corpsman moved off to attend to the other wounded on the bridge.
“Get that damn view screen working!” said Matheson. Other crew members on the bridge breathed a sigh of relief as Matheson once again assumed command of the bridge. Picking his stogie up off the deck, he placed it in his mouth and chewed vigorously. His normal grumpy demeanor gave confidence to the bridge crew.
“Resume fire! Keep up a continuous barrage. Let’s give ’em everything we’ve got left,” Matheson said to his weapons officer.
“Sir, the systems will overheat if we fire continuously,” the weapons officer said.
“Let ’em melt, then!” Matheson said firmly, a hardness in his eye. The young officer took the comment with a grim resolution. He knew this was a last-ditch, all-out effort to survive. He entered the instructions into the ship’s computer to keep the main gun batteries firing continuously, at the same time overriding all safety systems. The main view screen flickered once and sprang back to life just in time for the bridge crew to get a good view of their situation.
A gasp escaped the lips of almost everyone on the bridge. The scene was akin to something right out of hell. The fleet was in shambles, with every major battleship under heavy attack from the Jerrollites. Individual fighters were darting in between the big ships on kamikaze attacks, inflicting as much damage as possible.
Matheson gripped the arms of his chair tightly as crimson bolts of light and fire once again erupted from the main weapons battery of the Hercules. As it poured on the power, the other ships in Earth’s fleet realized that this was all or nothing and joined in on the attack. Most of the commanders figured they didn’t have anything to lose and wanted to go out fighting. The Jerrollite ships were momentarily taken aback by the ferocity of the renewed assault from the Earth fleet but quickly recovered and matched the increased firepower.
The replacement officer who had assumed the communications station was startled when the incoming message indicator on her board began to flash insistently. It took a moment for the meaning of the flashing alert to become clear; the officer had given up hope of ever seeing a message on that channel again. The message filled the screen, causing her heart to skip a beat as she read it and realized who it was from.
“General Matheson! Incoming message, sir!”
“What? From who!” he said, turning in his chair, afraid to let his hopes rise. “Let me see it, Ensign.” She complied by displaying the message text on the main view screen.
Message Dispatch Origin: Mark Hunter, Colonel
Urgent Central Earth Military Command
Time: unknown
Enemy power base destroyed. Destruction caused feedback pulse that is causing destruction of all enemy power receivers. We are monitoring massive explosions and firestorms on the Jerrollite home world. Pulse appears to be travelling the same path as the original power beam, which means that it is headed directly toward the Jerrollite ships in your vicinity. Destruction of Jerrollite ships is a certainty.
You must not be anywhere near one of those ships when pulse arrives.
End Transmission
As Matheson read it, his heart leapt at the news, but he quickly realized the danger they were in. For the first time, a flicker of hope kindled in his soul. He immediately began shouting orders to his crew. He hoped the Jerrollite commanders would think they were running to save their lives.
“All weapons, cease fire! Navigation, get us the hell o
ut of here! All engines FULL POWER!”
“Relay full emergency retreat orders to the rest of the fleet. No delay—cease fire and retreat, NOW!” he said to the ensign at the communications console.
The young ensign rushed to obey. Her fingers flew over her keyboard faster than they ever had before. She hit the transmit key and turned to the general. “Aye, sir. Message sent.”
The Hercules used its maneuvering thrusters to reorient itself, its powerful engines causing its frame to groan as they came up to full thrust. Matheson knew their survival depended on rapidly putting distance between the Herculesand the Jerrollite fleet. The tremors could be felt throughout the whole ship as the entire hull and frame resonated to the harmonic frequencies caused by the straining engines. The crew could hear the muffled roar of the engines as they consumed massive amounts of fuel and converted it to energy, spewing flame and pushing the great battleship to the very limits of its structural integrity.
Matheson returned his gaze to the view screen to watch as his fleet put more and more distance between themselves and the Jerrollite fleet. Every ship that was still capable of motion began to pull back from the battle.
The Jerrollites were surprised at the human retreat. The crucial few seconds that it took for them to recover allowed the fleet to gain more and more distance. Recovering from their initial surprise, the Jerrollites brought their ships about and began an earnest pursuit of the fleeing Earth ships.
“Incoming message from the Jerrollite fleet, sir,” the communications officer said.
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