Marvel Novel Series 02 - The Incredible Hulk - Stalker From The Stars

by Len Wein

  From the circling helicopter, Ross watched with consternation. If the blasted Hulk wasn’t strong enough to defy that glowing gruesomeness, who on earth was? Ross angled the chopper higher, then turned to examine its contents. Aside from the thick steel cable wound around the winch-reel, there didn’t seem to be much; a couple of gum wrappers, a crushed and discarded cigarette pack, evidence of the soldiers this chopper had transported only minutes before—and one thing more—there, in a corner of the cargo hold, left behind by one of the G.I.’s when disembarking, was one of the special shells that had been used during Operation Peapod, a shell containing a special gelatinous substance which would become a shatter-proof bubble on contact with the air.

  Was it possible? Perhaps. At least it was a chance. Anything that could contain the Hulk should also be able to contain the glowing Stern, maybe even contain his gamma-radiation and thus prevent the explosion.

  Ross put the chopper on a course that would take it directly over the glowing figure, then locked on the auto-pilot and lugged the gel-shell to the hatch in the chopper’s side.

  The copter came in low over the glowing figure, and there was a silent prayer on the lips of Thunderbolt Ross as he released the heavy projectile.

  The gel-shell struck at Stern/Sh’mballah’s feet, exploding on contact, releasing an overwhelming spray of fast-forming plastic. Within seconds, the walking dead man was completely encased in a bubble of hardened plastic.

  Fools, why do you continue? You cannot hope to hold in check power such as mine!

  But the distraction had more than served its purpose. Just beyond the plastic dome, the previously immobile Hulk suddenly stirred, shaking his shaggy head in confusion, released from the alien’s control. Then, realizing what had happened, the man-brute turned toward the imprisoned figure, snarling his rage, his balled fists shaking in fury.

  Within the plastic dome, Stern/Sh’mballah watched the emerald man-brute and considered. Should he regain command of the Hulk? No. It appeared this might require all his power, after all, and maintaining control of the massive man-monster expended too much energy.

  Against the Hulk, Operation Peapod had been successful, but no one had any idea if it would work against something like Sh’mballah. The special plastic had been designed to withstand the terrible physical battering of the jade-hued giant, but not the awesome amount of heat the glowing Stern seemed to generate.

  Ross could only pray the plastic cage would hold Stern, but in his heart of hearts, he really didn’t believe it for a minute. Even as he watched, the perimeters of the plastic bubble began to glow red-hot. It was only a matter of moments before Stern/Sh’mballah would be free once more.

  The Hulk stood by uncertainly, watching the destruction of a bubble he only dimly remembered. From the copter, Ross saw this.

  The Hulk. Now, it looked as if he was their only hope of salvation, if he could somehow be maneuvered into helping them. But how? Though the man-brute shared Bruce Banner’s body, he shared none of the frail physicist’s vast intellect. And no matter how Ross might try to persuade him, there was no way the Hulk would ever deign to help the general, whom he despised with every fiber of his being. No, someone else would have to convince the green Goliath to help them. Maybe Jones?

  The bubble was melting faster now, and the awkward figure inside could be seen clearly again, the glow around it building to a brilliant intensity. It wouldn’t be long now, Ross realized. He had to move fast.

  Ross shouted into the radio, “Put Jones on the line—now!”

  Rick grabbed the receiver. “Yeah, General. What’s up?”

  “Listen, kid—I’ve got an idea, and you might be the only one who can help me make it work.”

  “Whatever I can do, General. You know that. Lay it on me.”

  Ross took a deep breath. “Okay, just listen closely. This chopper I’m flying has a heavy-duty winch attached, complete with cable. I’m going to lower that cable down to you, and then I want you to convince that big green buddy of yours to grab hold of Stern and hitch a ride.

  “The only hope we have is to get Stern’s body far enough away from this town, out into the woods, before it explodes.”

  “But if the Hulk is still holding Stern’s body when it blows,” Rick gasped, “it’ll destroy him, too. General, you can’t do that.”

  “Damn it, Jones, we’ve already had this argument once tonight. It’s the Hulk’s life weighed against the lives of everyone else in this town. You’ve got to be realistic, Rick.” Ross’s voice softened now. He, too, knew what it was like to lose someone close to you. “We don’t have any choice.”

  Rick’s jaw quivered. A thousand different thoughts cascaded through his mind. He couldn’t condemn his best friend to certain death, and yet, if he didn’t, a thousand other lives would be lost, instead. God help him, he didn’t know what to do.

  Tears rolled from his tired eyes as he finally made his decision. “Forgive me, General, but Bruce Banner saved my life once. I just can’t send him to his death now. I just can’t.”

  Ross was furious. “Damn it, Jones—grow up. Don’t you think Banner would want you to—”

  A soft, timid voice interrupted Ross’s tirade. “I . . . I don’t really know Bruce Banner,” Linda said. “I admit that. But I’ve seen the Hulk, and I was wondering—isn’t there a chance the Hulk can survive the explosion, Rick? Even the slightest chance?”

  Rick stared at Linda in astonishment as she continued. “Please, Rick, this town is my home. My friends live here, everyone I know. I don’t want them to die. The Hulk is strong, impossibly strong. If anyone can survive the explosion, he can.

  “But maybe it won’t even come to that. Maybe the Hulk can just let go of Stern’s body once they get far enough away from Crater Falls. That’s possible, isn’t it, General?”

  Ross’s voice crackled as he replied. “We can try, Miss. I can’t promise anything, but we can sure as hell try.”

  Rick pulled himself together, his voice still trembling. “You’d better try, General. You’d better try. C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

  Rick Jones stood at the Hulk’s side, the two of them watching as the plastic bubble surrounding Stern/Sh’mballah sizzled asunder. They could feel the glowing figure’s heat as an almost-physical thing.

  “Please, Hulk, you’ve got to help us. You’re our only hope.”

  The man-brute turned to Rick, his emerald brow knitted in annoyance. “Bah! Why should Hulk help puny humans? Puny humans always hound Hulk, try to hurt Hulk. Hulk does not want to help you. Hulk just wants to be left alone.”

  In desperation, Rick grabbed the green Goliath’s brawny arm. “You have to help us, Hulk. If you refuse, hundreds of people will die—people who have never lifted a finger against you, people who could have been your friends. Please, Hulk, we need you. And I think somewhere deep inside of you, you need us.”

  “Bah! Hulk needs only Hulk. Hulk does not need puny humans, even those who would be Hulk’s . . .” Suddenly, the word dawned on him. “. . . friends?” It wasn’t really a question; it was a hope.

  “Yes, Hulk—friends. Once they see you’re willing to help them, everyone will be on your side. You won’t have to run anymore. You won’t have to hide.” The lie was choking in Rick’s throat. He knew full well the confusion he was stirring in the man-brute’s simple mind.

  “Please, Hulk, show the people you want to be their friend. Do it for me. Do it for Linda.”

  The Hulk turned toward the girl standing hopefully beside Clay Quartermain. His dark eyes softened. “For you, boy. For Linda. For all Hulk’s friends, Hulk will do as you say.”

  It had worked. Rick had accomplished the task demanded of him. But he wasn’t exactly proud. “Do you see that helicopter, Hulk?”

  “That metal bird?”

  “Yeah, that’s it, Hulk. Do you see that cable dangling from its underside?” The man-brute nodded. “What you have to do, Hulk, is grab that glowing man who has hurt you, then grab that
cable, and let the big metal bird carry you both away from the heart of town, where you will drop the glowing man. Do you understand, Hulk?”

  The jade giant snarled. “You want to hurt Hulk. Glowing man is hot. Glowing man burns Hulk.”

  Rick grimaced. The plastic bubble had almost completely dissolved now. At any moment, Stern/Sh’mballah would emerge, and then it would all be over—unless he could get the Hulk to cooperate.

  “We know the glowing man is hot, Hulk, and we’re sorry he may hurt you. But he’ll hurt all your new friends a whole lot more if you don’t do as I’ve asked.”

  “Glowing man will hurt Hulk’s friends?” Suddenly, the green Goliath was furious. He turned toward the swiftly melting bubble, roaring his rage. Silently, Rick stepped away, retreating to the company of Linda and Quartermain. The heat was growing far too intense for him to stay.

  The plastic bubble was now merely a steaming ring of bubbling black residue. His makeshift prison disposed of, Stern/Sh’mballah strode forward, his ghastly face an angry mask.

  It’s far too late to stop me now. Within minutes, I shall explode and take this entire village with me.

  “No!” roared the Hulk. His face twisted in pain, he grabbed the glowing figure once more, but this time he would not let go. This time he would hang on as long as he had to. After all, he had friends now, and he could not let them down.

  Like emerald tree trunks, the man-brute wrapped his arms around Stern’s slender body. Radioactive flame danced around the Hulk’s body, searing him to his soul. Tears welled up in his deepset eyes, but still he would not give in. He couldn’t.

  For as long as he could remember, everyone had always hated the Hulk, but here was his chance to put an end to that forever, a chance he dare not let slip away.

  High above the Hulk, Ross circled. The man-brute’s overwhelming agony was quite obvious now, and the general winced visibly in unexpected sympathy, then hit the winch control and sent the thick steel cable humming down, until it was well within the jade giant’s reach. The cable gently whapped the man-brute across the side of his head, and remembering Rick’s orders, he quickly took hold, maintaining his grip on Stern’s glowing body with his other hand. As soon as the general was certain the Hulk’s grip was secure, he threw the winch into reverse and drew his bizarre passengers upward.

  The copter bucked for a second under the sudden, unexpected weight, but Ross quickly compensated for the drag and regained control. The general could feel the heat from below now, and it was not difficult to imagine the torment the Hulk must be enduring. Stern was growing brighter with every passing second; his body was completely enveloped by emerald flames. It wouldn’t be too much longer.

  Ross could only pray it wouldn’t be too soon.

  It would take approximately five minutes for the chopper to reach the distant lake which fed water to the falls. The general prayed he would still be among the living when he got there . . . if he got there.

  The copter arced away from the town square, carrying a bizarre bundle below it.

  And none of those watching the incredible operation from below had any idea whatever if they would ever see the Hulk or Thunderbolt Ross again.

  Rick Jones bowed his head and, softly, began to cry. At this point, there was nothing else for him to do.

  Thirty

  Stern/Sh’mballah squirmed in the man-brute’s grasp, his expression one of growing concern. Even though the skin of the Hulk’s massive hand had begun to blister from the heat, he refused to release his grip on his glowing captive.

  Release me, brute. RELEASE ME!

  “Never! Glowing man tried to hurt Hulk’s friends! Now, shut up, glowing man! Stop talking inside Hulk’s head—or Hulk will smash!” The man-monster was enraged beyond measure, his snarled words merely guttural sounds, hardly comprehensible.

  Being a telepath, however, Sh’mballah understood the Hulk’s threats, and he knew the man-brute meant what he said.

  He had only one possible avenue of escape now.

  He had to switch host forms—from the old man into the Hulk. With his matchless mind in the man-brute’s supremely powerful body, Sh’mballah would be unstoppable.

  Stern’s brow knitted in concentration, and the Hulk growled as jagged daggers of pure thought stabbed into his brain.

  “What are you doing to Hulk, glowing man? What?”

  Stern/Sh’mballah was silent; he could not spare the energy to speak. He had to force his consciousness into the man-brute’s body, displacing the feeble mind that was the green Goliath’s own.

  “Hulk’s head hurts. Stop it, glowing man! Stop it!” The Hulk’s massive hand tightened on Stern’s frail frame as he shouted his rage. The alien entity controlling Stern winced in pain and fought back.

  “Stop it, glowing man! Stop—or Hulk will smash!”

  His powerful fingers dug deep into Stern’s withered flesh. His meager mind began to whirl. In a miasma of images, the Hulk saw General Ross before him, saw Gamma Base, saw the many and varied prisons which had unsuccessfully tried to contain him, prisons he had crushed in mindless fury.

  He saw the youth called Rick Jones, perhaps the Hulk’s only true friend. And now he saw another form, a slender, bespectacled figure clad in a clean white lab coat. He saw the face and figure of Bruce Banner, and there was nothing the Hulk wanted to see less.

  Bruce Banner was the Hulk’s worst enemy, the man the green Goliath hated most in all the world, because the coming of Bruce Banner meant the end of the Hulk, meant the jade-jawed giant would suddenly cease to be. And that was not right, was not fair.

  The Hulk was the most powerful man-like creature on earth. Bruce Banner was puny, frail. The Hulk was raw, unbridled emotion. Emotion was something Bruce Banner actively disdained. But the Hulk was Bruce Banner, though he would die before he would admit it.

  The Hulk howled in pain and shook his head violently. Still the alien consciousness strained to gain control of the Hulk. Stern’s body pulsed with effort, his eyes were solid pools of green, his mouth breathed emerald flame, and jade smoke poured from his ears and nostrils. Sh’mballah tried to possess the Hulk. And he failed. The man-brute’s anger created a barrier the alien’s telepathic powers could not penetrate.

  Reluctantly, Sh’mballah acknowledged his failure. He could not possess the body of the Hulk . . .

  But General Ross was another matter entirely.

  Through binoculars borrowed from Clay Quartermain, Rick Jones anxiously watched the helicopter fade into the distance. He saw the Hulk twisting violently beneath the big whirlybird, watched as the man-brute almost shook the copter down, then saw Stern’s glowing body suddenly go limp in the Hulk’s mighty hands. The copter flew on, becoming little more than a pinpoint in the distance, and then, in a blinding flash of emerald light, the chopper was gone.

  What had happened? Rick knew, but he refused to admit it.

  “Quick, Quartermain, get the general on the radio. I think something’s happened out there.”

  “I didn’t know you were my boss, too, kid,” Clay started to say, then paused as the rumbling sound of the explosion finally reached them.

  “General? General Ross?” Clay shouted into the radio mike. There was no answer, but by now Quartermain hadn’t really expected one. There was only the sound of static filling the cold night air.

  Linda grabbed Rick, clinging to him tightly. “What’s going on, Rick? Please, you’ve got to tell me.”

  Rick wanted to hold Linda, press her close to him. He wanted to smother her body with his. But the static crackling from the radio snapped him back to reality.

  “God only knows, Linda.”

  Stern’s body had gone limp, yet an inhuman voice echoed from somewhere deep within it.

  Perhaps Sh’mballah does not have to die, after all. Perhaps there is still a way for me to conquer this backward world.

  Stern’s ghastly head lifted to peer at the aircraft above him, and the emerald fire burned brighter in his eyes. At the co
pter’s controls, Ross suddenly began to feel an uncomfortable tingling, and he heard a buzzing in his head. In an instant, he realized what was happening, and fear knotted in his throat. He reached for the winch controls, prepared to jettison his cargo now, even though he was more than a mile from his target—but his fingers refused to respond.

  Ross called out, horrified at his sudden helplessness. “Do something, Hulk! He’s trying to control me now! In God’s name, you mindless monster— Do something!!”

  The Hulk lifted his shaggy head toward the copter’s underside and snarled. He had always hated Ross more than any other person, except Banner, of course. Now Ross was yelling at him again, calling Hulk names. Ross would pay for this. Ross would pay.

  In his fury, the man-brute shook the limp, glowing figure in his fist like a broken doll. Above, in the copter, the emerald glow which had begun to grow in the general’s eyes abruptly faded once more. Involuntarily, the Hulk had done as Ross had bade him, freeing the general from Sh’mballah’s spell.

  Stern’s body was glowing brighter than ever now. The moment of critical mass was almost at hand. Thankfully, Ross saw the copter was over the lake. He reached for the winch control, and he pressed it.

  Knowing full well he might be condemning the Hulk to death, knowing the man-brute had saved his mind and life mere moments before, Ross pressed the button.

  And nothing happened.

  Fearfully, Ross glanced at the winch, and he saw that the Hulk’s violent struggling had snarled the cable beyond all hope of repair.

  “Damn it! What am I supposed to do now?” The general’s eyes circled the copter’s interior in an instant. Propped in a corner, he saw salvation.

  Below him, on the cable, the furious Hulk still clutched a glowing figure.

  Ross pulled back on the throttle, aimed the chopper at the stars, and set the auto-pilot. He prayed this would give him enough altitude. Then he snapped on the waiting parachute and jumped. There wasn’t time to do anything else. As he plunged past the ranting Hulk, he wanted to wish the man-brute luck, but the words simply would not come. The only sound was the rush of the wind whistling by him, and the gentle lap of the water far below.