Godzilla 2000

by Marc Cerasini

  * * *

  General Selkirk's plan was reported on television and in the press. The controversy began immediately.

  Some military analysts thought that the risk was too great to worry about possible survivors in an initial attack. They advocated bombing by B-52s, thinking it would be more effective than a low-level attack by slow-moving A-10s.

  Others went so far as to suggest the use of nuclear weapons, but ultimately, no one wanted to go on record with that opinion.

  In the end, the administration went along with Selkirk's plan. If it failed, more drastic steps could easily be taken later.

  But not too much later.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, at the secret testing facility in the Nevada desert, another general was mulling over his own problems.

  With mounting dread, General Jake Taggart read the report filed by Project Valkyrie's physicians and psychologists, and a second report from the project's training coordinator, Colonel Krupp.

  He didn't like what he saw.

  The good news was that Raptor-One would be delivered tonight, two months ahead of schedule. Looks like the Pentagon boys kicked some butt, the general thought with satisfaction.

  The massive weapons platform, constructed with the cooperation of all the major American defense contractors, was designed to be the ultimate weapon against Godzilla, or any other monster. The completed and fully tested Raptor-One would be flown into Nellis Air Force Base tonight, in total secrecy, under the cover of darkness.

  That was the good news.

  The bad news was that General Taggart had no crew to man the Raptor. His team was still not ready, despite a new-and intensified training regimen. Worse than that, according to the project's psychiatrist, Dr. Irene Markham, the stress was starting to wear down his teenage recruits.

  Lori Angelo had been the first to crack. Lately, she had been having nightmares, and she even experienced a sleepwalking episode. If her psychological state deteriorated any further, Ms. Angelo would have to be pulled from the program.

  Tia Shimura, the other female member of the team, was faring much better, despite the fact that she was the youngest. General Taggart had no reservations about Tobias Nelson, Martin Wong, or Pierce Dillard.

  But Kip Daniels was also a problem.

  He still exhibited more raw talent and potential than any of the others. He had beaten the simulator - finally - on the ninth try. And he hadn't been beaten by the computer simulators since. But Kip had never really flown the Raptor, and none of the G-Force team had yet fought in real combat.

  This led to General Taggart's third and final problem. Public relations.

  If G-Force had to go into action now, it would be a public relations disaster. How can we justify sending teenagers into combat - and ill-prepared teenagers, at that?

  The G-Force team was supposed to be ready by 2001, when all of its members would be well past their eighteenth birthday. Unfortunately, Varan and the giant insects weren‘t following the timetable.

  Fortunately, Varan is a problem for the Mexicans, and the conventional forces can probably take care of the bugs.

  As long as Godzilla doesn't show up, we might still have enough time to kick G-Force into shape...

  * * *

  Meanwhile, in the middle of the South Pacific, in the bowels of an ultramodern, high-tech Japanese research vessel, Dr. Emiko Takado was reviewing the reams of data gathered by the ship's deep-sea robotic bathysphere.

  We've found Godzilla, realized the eminent kaijuologist. Her emotions were in turmoil over the discovery. On the one hand, she should have felt pleasure. After all, she and the other scientists aboard the hydrofoil Kongo-Maru had been searching for Godzilla for the last six months. Now they knew the location of the creature that had destroyed Tokyo and given birth to a new science.

  But Dr. Takado felt no pleasure, no thrill of discovery. Instead, she was haunted by the memory of her mentor, Dr. Hiroshi Nobeyama, the father of the nascent science of kaijuology, and she felt crushed by the magnitude of the terrible knowledge that she alone possessed.

  It seems Dr Nobeyama's sacrifice has been in vain, she thought. It was that Japanese scientist, along with Admiral Maxwell B. Willis, who formulated the plan to lure Godzilla away from the Japanese mainland. Together, they flew the aircraft that accomplished the mission - until it expended all of its fuel and crashed into the Pacific.

  Now Dr. Nobeyama and Admiral Willis were both lost. But Godzilla has survived, Dr. Takado thought sadly. As she studied the printouts, she hoped that she was mistaken, that her data was flawed.

  But in the end, Dr. Takado's hopes were dashed. The data confirmed it. Godzilla is still alive, she realized, her heart racing. And it looks as if he's awakening...

  Far beneath the hull of the Kongo-Maru, Godzilla lay in uneasy hibernation. Over the last twenty-four hours, his heartbeat had begun to increase. Electronic monitors placed by the Kongo-Maru's undersea robot had recorded this change, along with the rise in his temperature.

  Soon, the most powerful kaiju of them all would rise from the sea again, and there was absolutely nothing that mankind could do about it.

  Emiko Takado was torn by indecision. The world was already faced with a host of terrible new menaces, each of them threatening human extinction.

  According to a report Dr. Takado had received that morning from Dr. Martin Birchwood of Project Valkyrie, the giant insects that were now ravaging America's heartland were caused by the asteroids that threatened to strike the earth in two months.

  Meanwhile, Dr. Chandra Mishra had forwarded to her a secret report of his own. Dr. Mishra's data suggested that the asteroids were not what they seemed. According to Dr. Mishra's theory, the largest of the celestial bodies heading toward Earth was hollow, and might contain the seeds of a creature more destructive than the Kamacuras.

  And there was still the monster ravaging Mexico to deal with, the one the press called Varan. A mutated reptilian species that can actually fly, Dr. Takado marveled.

  Now there was evidence that Godzilla could rise from the depths at any time.

  Dr. Takado knew what her government wanted her to do. She was supposed to inform the government, which would digest and disseminate the information as they saw fit.

  But she feared that the Japanese prime minister and the Diet would hold back the information, possibly until it was too late.

  Should I share this information? Or should I only tell my government and withhold the data from General Jake Taggart of G-Force USA?

  Dr. Takado had to ask herself whether all the nations of the world had a right to know what she knew. In the end, she did what she thought was right.

  That is what Dr. Nobeyama would have done, she concluded. Her decision made, Emiko Takado activated the satellite radio.

  10

  THE CALM BEFORE

  THE STORM

  Friday, May 28, 1999, 4:41 A.M.

  Hays Municipal Airport

  Hays, Kansas

  The population of Hays would have doubled in the last three days, except that most of the civilian population had been evacuated from the town the day before. Now the 15,000 men and women in Hays were either military personnel or civilian reporters selected from a press pool and brought to the front.

  One of those press crews was even now interviewing members of Captain Jerry Tilson's A-10 squadron in the municipal airport's tiny terminal. Fortunately, Captain Tilson managed to avoid them.

  Tilson stepped out of the terminal and into the cold morning air. The sun had not yet risen, but the promise of dawn was visible in the eastern sky. He took a deep breath.

  The plains of Kansas smell sweet, he thought. But not as sweet as the Pennsylvania hills. Tilson, an Air National Guard pilot who had only been called up two weeks before, missed his home and his wife, Sandy. She waited for him back in Allentown.

  Sandy always kidded him about staying in the National Guard. She said that he liked playing soldier because he had never grown up, and
that being a "weekend warrior" gave him the chance to get away with the "boys" a couple of times a year, fly fast planes, and shoot off some ammunition.

  Honey, if you only knew, he thought, wondering how he and his fellow pilots would fare today.

  In a way Sandy was right. Tilson liked flying military aircraft - even an ugly clunker like the Warthog - but he stayed in the Air National Guard mostly because of the flight pay. You didn't make much money as the manager of a Laneco store. Not enough to support a family, anyway. And now Sandy was pregnant, and would probably have to give up her job soon.

  Tilson accepted a clipboard from a young woman in dirty overalls. He scanned the flight check, signed it, and handed it back to her.

  Then he approached his aircraft.

  As he crossed the tarmac, the whine of twin General Electric turbofan engines cut the air like a knife. The squadrons A-10 FAC - forward air control - taxied to the primary runway. The FAC would lead the attack and guide the other A-10s to the target. Tilson gazed down the runway and gauged the distance. There shouldn't be any problem.

  Hays Municipal was a tiny airport that served privately owned light planes and small commercial commuter aircraft. The facility could never support the high-tech, high-maintenance fighters and bombers that would be the core of the United States Air Force of the twenty-first century. But it was just the right size for the A-10.

  The Fairchild A-10 Thunderbolt II, affectionately known as the "Warthog" because of its uncommon ugliness, was built to land and take off from runways less than 5,000 feet long.

  The Warthog flew low and slow, which made it an easy target against modern weapons, but it was the perfect tool against the horde of giant insects. The A-10 was also known as the "flying gun" because it was designed around the GAU-8/A Avenger 30mm cannon, the most powerful rapid-fire weapon ever installed in an aircraft.

  The pilots, who slept in tents and hangars around the airport, were selected to lead the first wave of the attack. They would be joined by more A-10s out of McConnell and Salina - and F-15s and F-111s, if necessary. But it was Tilson and his colleagues who would be the first to face the Kamacuras.

  When he passed through the terminal after the morning briefing, Tilson heard some of the other pilots blowing hot air about the "bug hunt" to each other and to the press.

  Tilson wasn't going to do any bragging. Unlike some of these youngsters, he had seen combat before. He knew that anything could happen.

  He completed his pre-flight inspection - his "walkaround" - tugging on the Maverick air-to-surface missiles that hung from wing pylons and the fragmentation bombs that dangled from the wings and belly. He wanted to make sure the deadly payload was secure.

  Then he checked the control surfaces, the avionics pod... and even kicked the tires. When he was satisfied with the condition of his aircraft, Captain Tilson climbed into the cockpit.

  An airman helped strap him into his ejection seat and shook Tilson's hand and wished him luck. When the ladder was withdrawn, Tilson did a final system check.

  Everything looked good. He started the engine and listened to it hum as it revved up. Then he closed his canopy and taxied onto the flight line. Now all he had to do was wait.

  * * *

  Though it was early, even by Project Valkyrie's grueling training standards, none of the members of G-Force had trouble getting out of bed.

  With the exception of Lori Angelo, the team showed up in the command center ahead of schedule. And even Lori was wide awake and watching the monitors as the A-10s prepared to lift off in faraway Kansas to do battle with the creatures from outer space.

  Colonel Krupp and a team of technicians trucked over from the main complex of Nellis Air Force Base downloaded real-time images of the coming battle from satellites and surveillance aircraft that hovered in the sky above Osborne County.

  Tia was thrilled by the prospect of handling all that communications technology, and she worked alongside the colonel at one of the electronic warfare stations.

  "This surveillance stuff is pretty cool," Tia told Lori when the older girl arrived.

  "Hey, colonel, how about some breakfast?" Tobias Nelson complained when he discovered that the cafeteria wasn't even open yet.

  "So sorry for the oversight," Colonel Krupp barked. "I'll have Sergeant Harris get you some milk and cookies. We don't really need him here, and I'm sure he'd be happy to fetch you a snack."

  Toby backed away with a frozen smile.

  The colonel was cranky because he'd been up all night making sure that the downlinks worked properly. Krupp felt it was vital that his recruits see the battle, whatever the outcome.

  Only one of the dozen wide-screen televisions was tuned to a commercial station. While she worked, Tia watched her uncle Brian Shimura, an INN reporter, interview a pilot before he took off. The Air Force officer seemed confident that the Kamacuras would be wiped out by nightfall.

  "My uncle is so cool," Tia told Lori. "He was in Tokyo. He saw Godzilla in the flesh!"

  Lori nodded distractedly. She tried to pay attention to the images on the monitors but couldn't concentrate.

  I wish I understood the dream I had last night, Lori thought. It was so real... it felt like someone was trying to tell me something.

  Unlike the other dreams Lori had been having lately, this one wasn't a crazy nightmare filled with images of golden dragons.

  This dream was different.

  Vaguely, Lori recalled a veiled figure shrouded in a diaphanous robe of many colors. There was singing in the dream, too, and sparkling motes of light seemed to surround the figure.

  But no matter how hard Lori tried to recall the dream, the images slipped away until all that remained was the uneasy feeling that something momentous was about to happen.

  * * *

  Sitting alone, Kip anxiously watched the monitors. During a lull in the action, he glanced at Tia and Lori, who were talking in front of a command station.

  Martin Wong was busy, too. He was manning a satellite link with the help of a pretty young Air Force officer in a short skirt. Kip stifled a laugh. Martin was obviously smitten with the older woman, but Kip wasn't sure she even noticed.

  Then Kip spotted Pierce Dillard. The older pilot sat staring at him from across the room. He's been doing that for a week, Kip realized. Ever since I started beating the simulators.

  Dillard's furrowed brow and severe gaze gave Kip the impression that storm clouds were about to form above the guy's crewcut head.

  Great, thought Kip. First Dillard didn't like me because I wasn't any good... Now he doesn't like me because I'm too good.

  Kip suddenly frowned as he recalled his own dilemma.

  How good am I, really? he wondered. I can shoot at Godzilla easily enough now - at least I can in the simulators. But I still don't feel right about it. Attacking Godzilla still seems wrong somehow...

  Suddenly, a heavy hand descended on Kip's shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his chair. He turned to find Toby Nelson smiling down at him.

  "Hey, Toby, shouldn't you be sitting with the other aircraft commander?" Kip asked, pointing at Pierce.

  "Shouldn't you be sitting with him?" replied the handsome African American teenager.

  "I like it here," Kip declared.

  "Okay," Toby said. He sat down next to Kip.

  "So you've beaten the simulator seven times," Toby remarked. Kip nodded, and Toby smiled. "Not too shabby."

  "Yeah, well, it hasn't helped team spirit much," noted Kip. "Dillard still won't say two words to me outside the mockpit."

  Toby smiled. "How many words have you said to him?"

  Kip did not reply. For a few minutes, they sat in silence, watching the monitors as the A-10s taxied onto the runway.

  "You've got to understand something about Pierce Dillard," Toby finally said. "He takes his job very seriously. Maybe too seriously. He doesn't like things to go wrong, so he tries to control everything... and everybody. Not just you."

  Kip nodded, "I've hear
d stories about how he pushed Lori when she first joined the Project."

  "He didn't push Lori," Toby replied. "He tried to make her better than she was. Lori messed up a lot at first, just like you did. But she had a lot of potential. Pierce took it upon himself to straighten Lori out."

  "Well, I'm not messing up anymore," Kip asserted. "But Pierce is still riding me."

  "That's because you have a very special talent," Toby said earnestly. "You're magic behind the controls of Raptor-One, Kip. I've watched Pierce work for months, from sunup to sundown, just to match what you've accomplished in the last few weeks. But he can't do it, Kip. You can."

  Kip blinked, surprised by Toby's words. "If I'm so good, why does Pierce ride me?"

  "As good as you are, Pierce knows you could be better. He knows that, for whatever reason, your heart just isn't in what you're doing. Pierce knows you're holding back."

  Toby looked hard at Kip. "You could be better, Kip," he said. "And Dillard knows it."

  "Your point?"

  "Dillard wants G-Force to be a success. That's his entire focus. Sometimes he rides people. Sometimes he can't let go and trust the rest of us to do our jobs. But at least Pierce Dillard is focused. He's here, all the time. One hundred percent."

  Toby paused to meet Kip's uncertain blue gaze once again.

  "But you, my friend, are not."

  With that, Tobias Nelson rose. "Cut Dillard a little slack," he added, patting Kip's shoulder. "He can help you."

  Then Toby glanced around the room and stretched. "Not much going on yet. I'm gonna go find me some breakfast."

  * * *

  In Kansas, Captain Tilson taxied to the end of the runway.

  "Stand by, Nail Two." The flight controller's voice crackled in his ears. Tilson eased the throttle back, cutting some of the power to the twin turbofan engines. The Warthog seemed to shudder in protest, but was tamed.

  Ahead of Tilson, Nail One raced down the runway and shot into the sky. Already, the blue-black canopy was streaked with the hint of dawn.