Gravitys Hammer

by Jerry Reynolds

  “Put it on the main screen,” Matheson said.

  The leering blue face of a smug Jerrollite commander appeared on the screen, taunting Matheson. “Do you tire so soon of our little game, General?” Matheson refused to answer, so the alien continued. “Coward! You have no hope of escaping our fleet. As you did me a personal favor by getting rid of T’chlo, perhaps if you shut down your engines now, I will kill you quickly.” Mocking laughter erupted from the screen.

  Unable to contain himself any longer, Matheson said, “Are you prepared to die today, Commander? Very soon, I think, you will be greeting your god…personally.” Menace seethed in his voice.

  The Jerrollite bit his upper lip as he fought to maintain control. His face turned three deeper shades of blue as he bellowed, “I will kill you first and then smash your puny flee—“

  Matheson cut him off in midsentence. “I refuse to speak to a dead man. Don’t bother me again.” He motioned for the ensign to sever the connection. The Jerrollite commander’s anger was evident in the violence of the attack—the Hercules was jarred as a renewed assault began, the intensity and frequency of the bombardment more than doubled.

  “Sir, uh…I think we pissed ’em off,” the weapons officer said.

  “Good guess, soldier,” he chuckled, grimacing in pain as the movement reminded him of his wounds. “Maybe he’ll have a heart attack or something.” The bridge crew shared a nervous laugh together, the tension momentarily lessened.

  “Increase speed! The Jerrollite fleet is gaining on us!” said Matheson.

  “Already at top speed now, sir,” said the crewman.

  Matheson sighed heavily as he digested that report. If the alien fleet got too close, they might be destroyed as well. The Hercules’s deck bucked and lurched beneath him as the ship sustained another direct hit from behind.

  “Sir, rear shields have failed! One more direct hit, and we’re done for!” cried the weapons officer.

  “Damn,” muttered Matheson. “Damn.”

  The Jerrollite commander saw the rear shield on the Hercules flare and die out where their last energy bolt had struck. He knew that the Earth ship was heavily damaged from their attacks, barely managing to survive intact until now. Before striking the final blow to destroy Matheson and the Hercules, the commander wanted to savor this moment as long as possible. The destruction of the human battleship Hercules would provide him with the political clout he needed back home. How he had longed for this moment! Now that T’chlo had been exterminated and his flagship Razer destroyed, he and his ship would be given command of the entire fleet! Yes, this human had most definitely done him a favor, but now it was time to stop the game.

  “Targeting, lock in on the main reactor pod of the human ship and prepare to fire on my order!”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  The bridge of the Jerrollite ship was a prime example of military precision and efficiency of motion. Even though it had sustained some damage from the combined attack of the Earth ships, it was more than a match for any single ship, especially the once mighty and now pitiful Hercules. The damage the human ship had sustained was substantial, and the commander was truly surprised that it was still flying.

  “Ready to fire, Commander.”

  The wicked gleam in the commander’s eye revealed the blackness in his heart. He would glory in this kill, avenging the death of his brothers at the hands of Matheson and bringing an end to the human ability to fight once and for all.

  “Prepare to fire!” he said.

  Just as he was ready to give the order to unleash the barrage that would sound the death knell for Matheson and the Hercules, his tactical officer’s console erupted into a shower of sparks and flame. At the same time, the systems in the entire bridge flickered as power began to fail. Reports of failures began coming in from all over the ship. The tactical officer turned to his commander with an undeniable look of fear in his eyes.

  “Report! What is happening?” the commander cried.

  “Commander! Power beam is not stable! Energy level is falling rapidly!”

  He glanced around the bridge and saw the same result from each station. Warning indicators were flashing everywhere. The commander jumped as a siren began to sound, insistently warning of an imminent power failure.

  “Commander! We must power down! If we fire again and the beam drops, we will not have enough power to get home!” the tactical officer said, his face reflecting the anxiety he felt.

  The commander considered his options for only a moment. There was no way the Hercules could get away. As soon as power was restored, they would once again track it down and then destroy it once and for all.

  “Power down, NOW! All weapons, cease fire. Begin emergency power conservation procedures. MOVE!”

  In all his time as a commander, he could not remember ever seeing the power beam fail. It was the basis for their entire technology. Only a severe problem at the generator outpost on the second moon could cause the beam to fluctuate as it was currently doing. The commander had been briefed that the humans had been captured on the third moon. Could they have caused this? He dismissed the thought quickly as too ludicrous to consider. Humans were simply too stupid and weak to pose any threat to the Jerrollite race. Glancing at his view screen, he could see the Earth ships still retreating as his ship slowed down to conserve power.

  “Contact the generation outpost and find out what is happening!” he said to the communications officer.

  The officer’s hands flew over the controls, attempting to establish a link with the power station. After several seconds the officer turned to face his commander.

  “No response from the station, Commander.”

  Considering the significance of that statement, he decided to contact the team on the third moon to get firsthand information. The communications officer feverishly began attempting to establish contact with the team leader. Unable to raise the station on the moon, he began searching for alternative communications from the moon. Identifying a video feed coming over another channel, he switched to it and established a visual. What he saw caused the blue color to drain from his face. He reported to the commander.

  “Sir…Commander, I cannot establish communications with the team, but I have a visual from an automatic camera running at the site,” he said nervously.

  The commander was disgusted with the shaken look on his officer’s face but chose to ignore it for now. He would deal with that later. “Let me see it.”

  His mind would not accept as truth what he saw with his own eyes. The video showed Jerrollite bodies lying contorted into unnatural shapes by explosive forces. He could see frozen blood running from blast wounds on several of the bodies. He carefully counted the bodies of the team members that had been stationed at the moon facility. Conspicuously absent were the bodies of the two humans who had, only a few hours before, been held at blast rifle point.

  As realization dawned in his mind, the commander slammed his fist into the side of the nearest console and began bellowing in rage. “Bring the engines back online! Plot an intercept course for the Hercules!”

  “Commander, if we do that, we won’t make it home.”

  “We’re dead already, you fool. Obey my orders or die,” screamed the commander, drawing his sidearm and leveling it at his second-in-command. Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, the commander glaring down the barrel of his gun at his underling. The young officer seemed to melt under the fierce gaze of his superior.

  “Y-y-yes, Commander,” he said.

  The commander holstered his weapon and turned to the view screen, eyeing the Hercules in the distance. “Perhaps, General, we will both die today,” he said, slumping in his seat.

  Matheson watched as they began to pull away from the Jerrollite ships, leaving them far behind. He had been surprised when they stopped firing and was even more so now.

  “What’s going on? Tactical?” Matheson asked.

  “I can’t tell, sir. It would appear that they j
ust shut down all their systems. I can’t get anything but minimal power readings from them at all.”

  “Interesting. Hold our position here till we figure out what’s going on.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The constant groan of the engines died down to a dull throb as the Hercules drifted to a full stop.

  “Are we out of the path of that power beam?” Matheson asked his navigator.

  “Yes, sir. The beam is off the port bow, approximately one hundred kilometers away.”

  “Fine. Maintain that distance.”

  His shoulder and chest were beginning to throb, making it difficult to breathe.

  “SIR! The flagship just powered back up! It’s heading this way!” the tactical officer said.

  “Bring the ship around! Divert all power to the front shields. Let’s keep our weak spot protected!” Removing his cigar from his pocket, he lit it and took a long drag from the smoldering weed, sending coughs racking through his body again.

  “We’ll just wait here and get this over with!”

  An exclamation from the scanning station made them all turn and look in that direction.

  “General, something is happening! I’m reading a massive energy surge coming along the power beam!”

  Matheson smiled at the timing.

  As the pulse approached the Jerrollite ships, it appeared as a curtain of white fire sweeping across everything in its path. Matheson and his crew watched, unable to comprehend what was happening. The pulse intercepted the lead Jerrollite ship, causing its hull to buckle as a massive amount of electromagnetic energy washed over it in wave after wave. The energy receptors on board overloaded quickly, unable to contain the pulse. Tongues of blue fire began dancing all over the ship’s hull, scorching everything they touched. As more and more internal systems were assaulted by the extreme amounts of energy, they overloaded and exploded in brilliant flashes of light. The alien ship began to list to one side as system after system erupted in massive fireballs. It spun on its center axis, end over end. The bridge of the Hercules was silent as they watched the extermination of the Jerrollite fleet. The massive alien ship shuddered violently once and then was ripped apart as her main drives overloaded and exploded. As the lead ship was coming apart, a blinding flash revealed the detonation of her main reactor. Within seconds all that was left of the Jerrollite ship was a tumbling pile of debris.

  “Oh my God! Look at that!” said one of the crew, pointing at the view screen.

  Every ship in the Jerrollite armada began to explode, hurling large chunks of debris in every direction. Flash after flash, detonation after detonation, the scene replayed itself over and over as Matheson and his crew watched until all that was left of the enemy fleet was a large field of floating wreckage, spinning lazily in space, silent, all life extinguished.

  Silence reigned as every person on the bridge sat, stunned by the scene they had just witnessed. No one said anything; only the whisper of the ship’s ventilation systems reminded them that they were still alive. From the communications console, the intership channel crackled to life.

  “Hercules! Hercules! Come in.” The message repeated insistently. “Hercules! This is Mark and Johann—are you okay?”

  Matheson limped to the communications station and keyed his transmitter. “Mark, Johann, you don’t know how good it is to hear your voices. Come on in, boys. Let’s go home.” Tears were streaming down Matheson’s face as he collapsed into the arms of a waiting medical team. The entire bridge discharged all their pent-up emotions at once, laughing and crying, clapping one another on the back, grateful to be alive. Matheson could hardly believe the magnificent stroke of luck that had allowed all of them to survive.

  “Let’s go home,” he said again as the medical team loaded him onto a stretcher.

  A young medic’s face appeared over Matheson as he heard a voice say, “We’re on our way, sir. You just relax and hold on so we can get you fixed up.” The team wheeled him off the bridge to medical. The bridge crew watched him go.

  The first officer assumed command as the doors whispered closed.

  “All right, everybody, let’s see if we can get this crate home, shall we?”

  With renewed vigor, the crew began making preparations for the voyage home.

  A young ensign slipped behind the communications console. The first officer smiled as he gave the order they had all been waiting for.

  “Recall all fighters to their home ships. We will depart for home in ten minutes.”

  A cheer erupted from the bridge crew as they prepared to get the ship under way for the voyage home.

  “Comm, dispatch a message to Earth Command informing them of the outcome of the battle.” As the ensign complied, the first officer said, “And tell them to have a cold beer ready for all of us!”

  “Yes, sir!” said the ensign enthusiastically.

  The large battleship lumbered into position, orienting itself toward Earth. Even with battle damage evident on the blackened hull, its crew still maintained their sense of pride as the main engines powered up, accelerating the Hercules on its final journey home.

  CHAPTER 29

  The Jerrollite home world was on fire. The brilliant blue atmosphere was dotted with flecks of red over the entire surface of the planet as every power-receiving station that had been online when the moon was destroyed burned to the ground. Cities were in chaos as the government tried to maintain control over the population but was rapidly discovering that it was an impossible task with no power. Jerrollite technology had evolved over the eons to be based entirely on the transmission of power from a central facility. This technology had allowed the Jerrollite armada to travel to any star system without the need to carry fuel, as the power beam supplied everything they needed. When the technology had matured, it had been placed on the surface of the nearest moon to protect it from any planetside dangers and avoid impacting the planetary environment. As the Jerrollite race considered itself impervious to attack, the controlling powers had never even considered that the subject of one of their many conquests would be able to penetrate their system and actually pose a threat to the power transmitters. But it had happened, and now the Jerrollite civilization had been smashed because of their conceit.

  In its arrogance the Jerrollite government had never given serious thought to building a backup system for the power station on the moon. The governors had always assumed that it, and they, were invulnerable to destruction, as they had indeed been for hundreds of years. Never in their wildest dreams would they have imagined that it could be destroyed. The shutdown of the power generators would have been bad enough, but because of the feedback pulse that had been generated when the station was destroyed, every aspect of Jerrollite civilization was affected. Their entire technology base had been tied into the power beam and as a result had been destroyed when the pulse had hit. It would take years just to repair the destruction caused by the explosions, much less bring their technology back to the level it had been before the attack.

  The home world was not the only aspect of Jerrollite civilization to suffer. Every Jerrollite installation in the galaxy had been tapped into the same power source and suffered the same effects. In one fell swoop, Jerrollite rule of that sector of the galaxy was smashed completely.

  The Jerrollites had conquered hundreds of other planets, and Earth had been scheduled to become another victim—to be raped of resources and then discarded like so much garbage. They realized too late the tenacity and sheer will of the human race. The Jerrollites had allowed themselves to become complacent and as a result had been caught completely by surprise. They had never seen a race so fiercely opposed to being ruled by another. They had severely underestimated Earth and its inhabitants.

  It was a mistake they would not be able to rectify for a very long, long time.

  Mark expertly piloted his TAC-WING onto the landing deck of the Hercules, flaring his flaps at the last minute to execute a perfect emergency landing. Mark climbed out of his fighter,
frantically waving to a medical team for assistance.

  “I’ve got a wounded man in there!” he said, jerking a thumb toward the cockpit of the TAC-WING fighter. Several men climbed up the access ladder and began to extricate Johann from the ship under Mark’s watchful eye. They lowered him gently onto a stretcher, but Johann yelped as the movement of his body brought renewed pain. Grabbing the sleeve of the lead medical tech, Mark spun him around, face-to-face.

  “Is he going to be all right?” he asked nervously.

  “I think so, sir; he’s lost a lot of blood, but I think we can pull him through.”

  “Please don’t let him die. He saved all of us today,” Mark said, releasing the sleeve. He walked over to where Johann was being attended to by the medical team.

  “Take care of yourself, buddy. I’ll see you in a little while,” Mark said.

  Johann’s only reply was a weak thumbs-up from his stretcher. The medical team bustled him off to the emergency triage ward in sick bay. Mark followed the stretcher down the long corridor. Trying to avoid all the activity as doctors and nurses tended to the many hurt and wounded in the bay, Mark located General Matheson’s bed. He was surprised at how bad Matheson looked. His face was ashen, and there was a bead of sweat on his brow. His breathing was shallow and irregular.

  Mark hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. He had been through so much with this man that he felt a strong bond of kinship with him. There was no way Mark could stand to see his life end—not when the fight had been won. He placed his hand on Matheson’s shoulder and was relieved when the general’s eyes fluttered open. The old twinkle was still quite evident, not only in his eyes but also in his voice.

  “It’s good to see you, sir. We thought you weren’t going to make it when we heard you had been injured on the bridge,” said Mark.

  “It’ll take more than a piece of government steel to kill me!” Matheson said weakly.

  “I don’t doubt that at all, sir.”

  “Are you okay?” Matheson asked faintly.