Gravitys Hammer Read online

  GRAVITYS HAMMER

  GRAVITYS HAMMER

  Jerry Reynolds

  © 2015 Authored by Jerry Reynolds

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 0996326200

  ISBN 13: 9780996326209

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015907136

  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, North Charleston, South

  Carolina

  To Vicki

  for being my wife, inspiration, and best friend.

  You have always stood with me and supported me in all

  circumstances that have come our way. Thank you.

  It has been an amazing ride so far! Let’s keep going!

  To Jim Conrad

  for inspiring me to revisit this project and get it done, and

  for your guidance through the publishing process and an

  endless maze of options. Thank you.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  Mark Hunter crouched down inside the drop tube, trying to make himself more comfortable and growing more impatient by the moment. Waiting to planet dive was always the hardest part of any mission. The droning of the ship’s engines combined with the boredom of simply having to wait always seemed to dull his senses, making it difficult to concentrate on the upcoming mission. Straining against the straps that held him firmly in place, Mark twisted his head around, looking out of the portal in the top of the tube.

  The jump compartment was dark; the only illumination was a single combat light suspended from the ceiling. It cast a dull red glow over everything, lending a certain eeriness to the setting.

  “Thirty seconds to drop!” the intercom crackled.

  Mark had been inside his tube for a little over an hour and was beginning to get anxious as the ship approached the release point. He flexed his muscles, performing exercises in a futile attempt to relieve the tension from being cramped inside the tiny tube for so long. He mulled over what he was about to do, hardly able to believe it.

  Getting from a ship to the surface of a planet could hardly be done in a more dangerous way. Mark was part of an elite group of fighting men, similar to military storm troopers of the past, who specialized in attack-and-destroy missions behind the lines. The key to a successful mission was keeping transit time from ship to surface down to a bare minimum. This was where the drop tube came into play. By using this tiny, self-contained ship, the descending storm troopers provided the enemy with many fewer opportunities to fire on them, leading to a much higher survival rate than old-style parachute methods employed by armies in the past. The only problem with the drop tube was that it was somewhat akin to lying in a coffin and being pushed over a cliff. The experience was unnerving, to say the least, and required several years of specialized training to master. Mark had been on many drops in his past as an intelligence operative, utilizing the drop tube system on any mission where a clandestine, rapid approach was crucial to the success of the mission.

  The tube itself was roughly eight feet long, and the bottom half was tapered to a point. This helped reduce drag when reentering the atmosphere, but it gave the drop tube the distinct shape of a bullet. The shape, along with a radar-absorbing coating on the outer skin, made it all but impossible to detect on radar. With only small viewing ports at the top and bottom, the occupant had to trust totally in the onboard systems to safely guide the descent. Before the technology was perfected, more than one soldier met his end because of a systems failure before he even had a chance to engage the enemy.

  During a drop the ship would swing as close as possible to the dark side of a planet and release its drop tubes into a decaying orbit. If the tracking systems were functioning correctly, the tubes would enter the atmosphere somewhere over the target area. After a brief period of free fall, the onboard systems in the tube would fire a burst from a small rocket mounted on the outer casing. This was intended to slow the tube to a less-than-fatal impact speed, but more often than not, the physical constitution of the passenger determined whether the final landing speed proved to be lethal. Internal compensators and padding softened the blow some, but it still made for a rough ride going down.

  “Five seconds to drop!” blared the intercom.

  Mark tightened his grip on the brace bars inside the tube and gritted his teeth as he prepared himself mentally for what was about to happen.

  “DROP!” the voice boomed as the tube was released from its moorings and fired into an orbital trajectory. Mark’s stomach leapt into his mouth and struggled to get free as his tube continued in a rapid downward spiral. He looked up through the overhead portal to see the USS Hercules, a Freedom-class battleship, roaring away into the blackness of space. A brief wave of fear washed over him as he realized he was on his own, success or failure resting totally in his hands.

  As the tube hit the atmosphere, violent vibrations began beating through the hull so forcefully Mark was sure it would fly apart before he made it down. A deafening screech began as the thick atmosphere whistled around the tube’s casing, buffeting the tiny ship back and forth as it rammed its way to the surface. Mark looked up to see a dull red glow obscuring his vision through the portal as friction caused by the atmosphere began to burn the outer skin of the tube. Even though he knew it was impossible because of the shielding built into the tube, he swore he could feel the heat of reentry searing the soles of his feet. The tube shook violently, rattling Mark’s teeth in their sockets. After several seconds the glow began to fade, and the screeching subsided and was replaced by an eerie silence as the tube broke into the lower atmosphere.

  Watching the surface approaching rapidly through the lower portal, Mark’s apprehension built as he began to wonder if the tube’s engine would fire in time. As the ground continued to rush toward him, Mark’s tension level increased proportionally to his lack of distance from the surface. The engine finally roared to life, rapidly reducing the descent speed of the tube. Mark breathed a heavy sigh of relief. As the engine continued to fire, the pressure on his body increased dramatically, the g-force making it difficult for blood to flow to his brain. Unconsciousness crept up on him, enveloping him, causing him to see bright flashes of light in his peripheral vison. Just before the darkness could overwhelm him, his years of training took over, and he began performing blood-flow exercises to fight off the unrelenting pressure. When Mark was sure he was going to black out, the engine abruptly ceased firing, causing the g-force to subside. Momentarily disoriented at the sudden rush of blood to his brain, Mark shook his head to regain his composure. As he reoriented himself, a synthesized voice announced in a calm, detached manner, “Please brace for impact.”

  Heeding the advice, Mark crouched down into a fetal position—knees tucked into his chest, eyelids clenched shut—and prepared for the most difficult part of the descent. As the tube impacted the surface of the planet, Mark suddenly remembered why he had retired from special forces. The shock was so severe he was stunned and could do nothi
ng for several seconds, not even breathe. The tube hit the ground violently, bounced, and skidded to a stop at the base of a pile of large boulders. Gravel and dust were thrown into the air, settling over the area and coating everything with a fine layer of gritty sand.

  An insistent warning light flashing on the small control panel in front of him brought him back to his senses. As his vision focused, the disembodied voice of the computer chimed a simple warning: “Drop tube will self-destruct in ten seconds. Please vacate immediately.”

  Instantly alert, Mark knew the tube would detonate whether he was in it or not. He reached beneath his seat and grabbed his backpack. He popped the hatch on the tube, exposing himself to the alien atmosphere. Tossing the pack through the open passageway, he leapt out after it, scooping it up in his arms as he ran away from the tube. He sprinted for several seconds before stopping. Mark turned and looked back in the direction he had come. As he watched, a warm, green glow came from the tube’s interior, building in intensity as bright fingers of electricity began to skitter across its hull. He heard a low hum as the self-destruct mechanism built up a charge, filling the air with static electricity. He ducked down as a bright flash emanated from the hull of the tube and the entire ship disintegrated and fell into a small pile of ash. He walked back over and spread the ashes around to remove the evidence of his arrival.

  As he surveyed the area, Mark noted with satisfaction that it was still dark; the only light was a dull glow coming from a cluster of distant buildings. He opened his backpack, removed a small transceiver, and keyed it up.

  “Home Base, descent complete. Moving to primary objective,” Mark said softly into the communicator.

  “Acknowledged,” came the almost-instantaneous reply.

  Stowing his communicator in his backpack, he pulled out a geolocation device that contained a map of the area and tried to get his bearings. The data on this planet were minimal—as it had only recently been identified as an alien outpost. Glancing around, Mark could see that he had come down almost precisely as planned. He was only four hundred yards from the enemy compound. As far as he could tell, his presence had, as yet, gone undetected, thanks in part to the special electromagnetic absorption properties of the tube’s coating. It would not reflect any kind of radiation, making it impossible to detect with conventional radar equipment. The only danger would be from a direct visual sighting, and it appeared that he had been lucky in that respect.

  The sky was as black as ink, allowing Mark to approach the enemy compound without being spotted. Unable to detect any security devices, Mark was worried. It meant that these people either were stupid or had capabilities of which he was not aware. He would have to be even more careful.

  He knelt next to the outer wall of the largest building as he removed a rope and grappling hook from his backpack. Fastening the rope onto the hook, he stood and swung the hook in a wide arc over his head, releasing it as it reached the top of its arc. The hook sailed toward the roof and lodged firmly into place with a muffled clank. Mark tugged on the rope to make sure it was secure and began scaling the wall, pulling himself up the rope toward the top of the building. His muscles cried out in pain as he hoisted himself up the rope. He was using parts of his body that had not been exercised this way since he had retired. He felt vulnerable and visible as he ascended. If someone saw him, his mission would be over before it started. Finally reaching the roof, Mark pulled the rope up after him and hid it in the shadows. He surveyed the area, noticing what appeared to be an air shaft that would suit his needs perfectly, providing access into the building and getting himself out of the open. Making sure all was clear, Mark pried open the shaft cover and climbed in, putting it back in place as he carefully descended the shaft.

  Peering out of a vent into what appeared to be a large warehouse, Mark saw that the entire space was deserted. Pushing the vent cover out, he dropped to the floor, careful to make no sound. He moved quickly across an open area into a darkened hallway. As he made his way, Mark couldn’t help but sense an electric feeling of tension in the air. It had been over five years since he had done any fieldwork, and the adrenaline was pumping through his body just like it had on his first combat mission behind enemy lines so many years ago. He had not had much time to prepare for this mission, but he was glad to see that his old skills had not left him yet. Once in the hallway, he glanced to his left, noticing a glow coming from an adjoining room. He approached cautiously, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence. He pushed the door open slowly and peered inside.

  The room was occupied by a blue-skinned humanoid behind a computer station with many monitors and flashing lights. The alien was facedown, oblivious to his surroundings. At least Mark thought it was oblivious. He really did not know for sure—intelligence had little to no information on this alien race. Mark silently drew his weapon from its holster, taking comfort from the balanced weight of it in his hand. He crept into the office slowly, his nerves stretched to the breaking point.

  Silently approaching from behind, Mark confirmed that the alien was unconscious, breathing shallowly, face-down on the desk. He observed one hand holding an empty glass and the other a half-full bottle of a foul amber liquid. Bending over slightly to smell the contents of the glass, Mark was disgusted by what he smelled. Mark assumed from the scene that this alien had stayed late and tied one on, drinking whatever passed for alcohol on this planet—whether out of celebration or depression Mark had no idea, nor did he care. Wanting to raise no alarms and having no desire for a confrontation at this point, he quietly left the room, closing the door. Glancing toward the end of the hallway, Mark saw a large, secure-looking door protecting a room that was a likely candidate for the source of the information he had come for.

  Proceeding down the hall with as much stealth as he could muster, Mark came within inches of the door. Expecting elaborate security precautions, he paused to examine the door as closely as he could in the dim light of the hallway. It appeared to have no hidden security devices, instead relying on simple strength for deterrence against an intruder. While not as large, the door reminded him of the main entry doors he had seen at the North American Aerospace Defense Command headquarters—ridiculously thick to withstand a direct blast of almost any magnitude. Removing a small sounding device from his pack, Mark positioned it against the door, causing it to activate itself and attach to the surface with a gentle click. He pressed a small button, and the sounder sent out a out a pulse of sonic energy that passed through the door and reflected off everything on the other side. The sounder received these signals and built a three-dimensional map of the room that was behind the door, including thickness and density data for walls and the surrounding area, and presented it to Mark on a small display. Mark could hardly believe the information being displayed. The door was over three feet thick, made of a substance that he had never seen before. Its molecular structure was so dense it would be impervious to explosives. Knowing that it would be impossible to breach the door by brute force, Mark decided his only chance for entry was to attempt to breach the security access panel on the wall.

  Examining the panel closely, Mark could not tell exactly how it worked. There were instructions, but they were printed in an alien language. As he pondered his next move, his ears perked up at the sound of a low conversation reverberating from the opposite end of the hallway. Mark stowed the sounder device and retreated into the shadows, pressing his body flat against the wall as he waited.

  Two aliens, dressed in what appeared to be military uniforms, were coming directly toward Mark’s position. They were conversing casually, the tone of their conversation assuring Mark that no alarm had been raised and that they were unaware of his presence. Retreating further into the shadows, Mark held his breath as he waited to see what would happen next.

  The older of the two aliens stood before the massive door and placed his hand firmly on the security panel, which promptly began to glow. Mark flinched as a loud clang sounded from within the door. It began to sli
de back on its guide rails, a low rumble echoing down the hallway as it moved. Both aliens entered the room as soon as the door was open. Mark stared in after them. He made an instant decision as the door began to roll shut, leaping into action. Looking up and down the hallway to ensure that no one else was coming, he covered the space between himself and the door in a single bound. With almost no room to spare as he slipped in, the door closed behind him with a dull thud that reverberated off the ceiling. He was grateful for the noise; it covered any sound he had made while entering.

  The aliens were standing with their backs to him, still unaware of his presence. He crouched, slipped his knife from its sheath, and readied himself for the attack. His blade was thirsty for blood, and he was intent on satisfying that thirst. The room was still dark, so he had to allow time for his eyes to adjust. He could see his targets standing close together, silhouetted against the glow from several banks of equipment on the far wall. Mark leapt into action. Seizing the older one by the throat, he placed his blade against the blue flesh and slid it across in a firm, powerful stroke. The alien stiffened in surprise, then immediately went limp, and Mark could feel a warm, sticky substance flowing over his hands as he let the body drop to the floor. He knew the alien was dead. Stepping over the body, he heard a gasp from the other alien as it reacted to what it saw playing out. Eyes widening in fear, the alien started to cry out. Mark swung around and brought his knife handle down hard on its skull. He heard the satisfying crunch of bone as the second alien fell to the floor next to its companion. He looked around the room to make sure no one else had been alerted by the action and bent over to get a closer look at the aliens he had just terminated. Their skin was blue, fleshy to the touch, their bodies were basically humanoid in appearance. A small ridge of bone ran from the tip of the nose all the way around the crest of the skull, giving them the appearance of a Roman centurion of old. Their bodies were lean and very muscular, and their legs were somewhat larger than those of an average human. Mark guessed that the gravity on their planet was somewhat higher than on Earth, which would account for the heavier musculature of their bodies.