That sound was swiftly followed by the distinctive noise of jet engines. As the men of Gullfaks D watched the skies, three fighters flying in formation raced over their heads, toward the ball of fire in the sky.
"Has a bloody war broken out?" one of the British petroleum workers asked from an upper deck. The others shook their heads, wondering what crisis the world was facing now.
As they watched, the jets raced away, disappearing into the bright night. But before they completely vanished in the distance, the workers saw the aircraft fire their wing-mounted missiles at the brilliant ball of yellow fire on the horizon.
The booming sounds of the missiles detonating sent repercussions skimming over the North Sea. Then they saw an eerie bolt of lightning in the otherwise clear sky. The bolt struck something in the air and a small explosion, like a distant firecracker, flared up and vanished.
"The fighters are shooting at something," one petroleum worker cried.
"Yeah," an American replied. "And something is shooting back."
As the men watched, the brilliant ball of fire finally faded. But far away, a small object still glowed in the sky. The American peered through a pair of binoculars, then gasped.
"What is it, mate?" the Brit asked. The American said nothing, but he handed the other man his binoculars. The Brit raised them to his eyes and gazed through the lenses.
"Bloody hell!" he cried.
With a terrible fascination, the men on the platform watched as the glowing object came closer and closer. Soon, they could make out details... gigantic wings, three long necks, twin tails. And then, before it seemed possible, the thing was upon them.
The night sky was filled with a mad cackling sound. The necks writhed angrily as the tremendous golden thing flapped its massive wings. The central head seemed to focus on the brightly lit platform in the middle of the dark water. As the cold, alien eyes looked down at them, the workers began to panic. As one, the men rushed belowdecks to the evacuation stations.
But it was too late.
The three-headed monster opened the gaping maw of its central head and spat a bolt of electricity at the Gullfaks D. The powerful ray skimmed along the North Sea, boiling the water where it touched. Then the jagged bolt of power reached out and struck the Gullfaks D's central section.
Metal seared and melted, and secondary explosions ripped through the Gullfaks living quarters and power station. Then a second bolt of jagged energy lanced out and struck the oil storage facility.
The result was the largest non-nuclear explosion ever to occur on the face of the earth. The Gullfaks D literally vanished in a dazzling, glaring, burning mass of fire. The blast reached into the sky in a fiery mushroom cloud.
The noise would have been deafening, if there had been anyone still alive to hear it.
The force of the explosion capsized the nearby tanker, trapping its helpless crew inside the hull as it sank beneath the tossing waves. On the ocean floor, pipes that led from the drilling stations on the seabed ruptured, spilling hundreds of thousands of barrels of crude oil into the North Sea.
Over a hundred miles away, windows were shattered in buildings along Norway's coast. The bright blast was visible in Norway, Scotland, and from ships at sea in the North Atlantic.
* * *
At dawn, a press conference was held at the United Nations headquarters in New York City, announcing the arrival of a new, unknown kaiju, more powerful than even Godzilla.
The monster, called King Ghidorah, after the monster predicted by the "Prophetess of Doom," was now circling over Europe. The UN delegates assured the citizens of Earth that everything was being done to protect them from King Ghidorah, and that they should remain calm.
28
THE COMING
OF MOTHRA
Friday, December 31, 1999, 3:45 P.M.
G-Force mobile command station
La Guardia Airport, Queens, New York
Outside the gigantic C-130 Hercules transport plane, the last afternoon of the twentieth century was windy, brisk, and clear. Miles away from the airport, across the East River, the jagged skyscrapers of Manhattan glittered under a bright blue sky. Even as far away as the airport, hundreds of helicopters were visible above the city.
The air over Manhattan was filled with military, commercial, and privately owned helicopters of every shape and size. Their crews were frantically evacuating the city, not of its citizens, but of its valuable government and corporate records, art objects, and anything else deemed irreplaceable.
The millions of New Yorkers who inhabited the mighty metropolis were already gone. They were camped in cold tents in the outer boroughs, upstate, in New Jersey, Connecticut, and even Pennsylvania. Manhattan was empty, except for the criminals, the homeless, and the insane who still roamed the streets, where they fought one another for the remaining spoils.
On this day, the traditional New Year's Eve celebration in Times Square was usually held. But, for the first time in almost a century, the event was canceled. In its place, Dick Clark was planning a live broadcast from Atlanta to celebrate the holiday.
As Kip Daniels crossed the concrete tarmac toward the aircraft that served as their mobile command center, he pulled his flight jacket close around his neck for protection against the buffeting winds. His mood was as bleak as the nation's.
In the next twenty-four hours, it was likely that he would once again go head-to-head with what he feared most - Godzilla. The monster was moving in a straight line toward Manhattan. At last report, Godzilla had entered the Hudson River near the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. Currently, he was moving at a steady pace downriver.
Some bridges had been destroyed, and some river barges overturned, but generally Godzilla caused less damage when he moved through the nation's waterways than when he traveled across land.
On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, in the skies over France, NATO air forces were about to engage King Ghidorah. The City of Lights had drawn the space monster like a magnet. Hours ago, the monster descended on Paris without warning.
The death toll was staggering. The French government appealed for help.
Their appeal was granted, and the combined forces of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization were mounting a counterattack.
Kip climbed the ramp and entered the aircraft. Inside the mobile command center, the air was hot, dry, and tense. On a raised platform, General Taggart sat in consultation with Colonel Krupp, Dr. Birchwood, and Dr. Markham. Kip saw Tia and Martin watching live images of King Ghidorah squatting in the rubble of the Eiffel Tower.
Another monitor displayed digital images of King Ghidorah. The statistics that flashed across the bottom of that screen were staggering.
At over 500 feet tall, King Ghidorah towered over even Godzilla. Its wingspread was wider than Rodan's, and its mysterious bolts of pure energy measured three times more powerful than the mutated Pteranodon's and nearly as strong as Godzilla's own. King Ghidorah was, far and away, the largest and most powerful living creature in the known universe. And we may have to go up against it next, Kip thought grimly.
As he was watching the data scroll across the monitor, Pierce and Toby entered the command center. Pierce was wearing his flight suit, but Toby, still recovering from his ejection over Colorado, was wearing Levis and a sweater.
The three men exchanged ominous glances.
Soon, Kip knew, the attack on King Ghidorah would begin.
* * *
Over the English Channel, a squadron of Dessault Super Etendard tactical strike fighters lifted off from the deck of the French aircraft carrier Foch. Each aircraft carried two Exocet anti-ship cruise missiles.
Another flight of six Super Etendards lifted off from a land base in Brittany. Of these, only one jet was carrying a cruise missile - an Aerospatiale ASMP stand-off missile with a tactical nuclear warhead. Despite a verbal agreement not to use nuclear Weapons against King Ghidorah, the French government had decided - unilaterally and in secret - to use it if t
hey got the chance.
It was an act of vengeance for the destruction of Paris.
A third flight of French Rafale fighters was launched from a base near Le Havre, while, off the coast of France, a squadron of British Royal Air Force Panavia Tornado fighter-bombers circled around their aerial refueling aircraft. The British would strike only if King Ghidorah left French airspace.
Off the British coast, the American aircraft carrier Theodore Roosevelt waited in reserve. If the French and British failed to stop the monster, then the F-14 Tomcats and F-18 Hornets of the Roosevelt would launch and intercept the kaiju over the Atlantic.
It took only minutes for the first flight of French aircraft to reach the outskirts of Paris. The pilots were horrified to see the destruction that had been done to their beloved city. Not only the Eiffel Tower but also the Cathedral of Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Louvre had all been reduced to rubble.
The work of centuries lay shattered around the massive legs of the marauding monster from space. But even the vision of destruction below their aircraft didn't prepare the French pilots for their first look at the monster King Ghidorah.
Even the most battle-hardened French pilot was struck with a kind of supernatural dread when he saw King Ghidorah in the flesh.
Streaking over the demolished city, the Super Etendards released their Exocets. The cruise missiles dropped from the belly pylons and deployed their tiny navigational wings. Then, as one, the ten missiles sped toward their target.
Meanwhile, the single nuclear-armed fighter circled the city, waiting for a chance to deploy the ultimate weapon.
Nine out of ten of the Exocets struck their target. The explosions rocked King Ghidorah as the missiles detonated against its golden flanks. The monster cackled madly as it tumbled over, smashing buildings as it rolled. The last Exocet failed to identify the target in the turmoil of the other explosions, and it self-destructed.
As smoke and fire filled the sky, jagged bolts of lightning flew from the center of the maelstrom. Two of the French fighters were struck as they retreated. The airplanes vaporized instantly.
With a roar of angry triumph, King Ghidorah spread its massive wings and took to the air.
In response, the Rafales flew in, but their missiles simply bounced off King Ghidorah's hard scales, and the French fighters were swatted out of the sky like so many bugs.
Sensing his chance, the last French pilot stared through his HUD, aiming his nuclear missile at the flying monster. But before he could depress the trigger and launch the Aerospatiale ASMP, one of King Ghidorah's heads spit a bolt of force at his jet.
Desperately, the pilot tried to jink the aircraft to avoid the blast, but the stream of force seemed to track his fighter.
The Super Etendard, its pilot, and the nuclear missile detonated in a powerful midair explosion.
Radioactive debris mixed with airplane parts as they rained down on the northern suburbs of Paris, and King Ghidorah winged its way toward the English Channel.
* * *
The British Tornadoes, despite a valiant effort by their pilots, were no match for King Ghidorah. In a short and fierce aerial battle, nine out of sixteen Tornadoes were downed in minutes. Only a few of the pilots managed to eject into the cold water of the channel, where rescue helicopters hovered, trying to drag the pilots out before they died of cold and exposure.
As darkness descended on England, King Ghidorah flew over the island nation virtually unopposed.
* * *
It was nearly midnight on New Year's Eve when the battle group surrounding the carrier Theodore Roosevelt was alerted to King Ghidorah's approach. Instantly, pilots were scrambled. In minutes, powerful hydraulic catapults blasted Grumman F-14A Tomcats off the deck and into the dark night sky.
The Tomcats, armed with AIM-54 Phoenix air-to-air missiles, were no match for King Ghidorah's might, but the naval aviators were determined to put up a fight. They all knew that King Ghidorah was heading across the Atlantic Ocean, toward the eastern coast of the United States.
Just before midnight, the G-Force team was notified that King Ghidorah had gotten past the United States naval blockade and was approaching.
Casualties among the ships were astronomical. The Theodore Roosevelt was sinking, and two destroyers were already at the bottom of the Atlantic. In addition, an entire squadron of Tomcats was lost, the pilots missing and presumed dead.
Even worse, according to radar, King Ghidorah was heading directly for New York City, and would arrive sometime after sunrise tomorrow morning - New Year's Day.
In desperation, the president ordered G-Force to take to the sky at dawn and do battle with the space monster when it arrived.
* * *
The first morning of the new century was cold and overcast. Low clouds hung over the Manhattan skyline, and snow was predicted for later in the day.
As Raptor-One was wheeled out of a hangar and onto La Guardia's main runway, the G-Force team ran system checks inside the cockpit.
Several modifications had been made on the Raptor and its munitions after the first battle against Godzilla. Additional heat shielding had been placed over the missile bays in the wings, and the depleted-uranium shells for the eight cannons had been replaced with experimental Teflon-coated shells just developed.
Kip tested and retested the bay doors, because they didn't always work properly as a result of the additional weight of the shielding.
Martin oversaw the addition of new software and avionics packages, and he was reviewing the systems from the co-pilot's seat. Tia had downloaded all the regional maps, railroad maps, and industrial statistics of the entire New York/New Jersey areas - the site of the coming battle. Now she was reviewing the data.
Pierce's intense gaze was busy studying those same maps on his HUD. The pilot was not happy about going up against two monsters, over a densely crowded urban cityscape - without Lori aboard Raptor-Two to watch their backs. Pierce had come to trust in Lori, and he missed her. Lori's loss weighed on them all.
On the other side of the airport, parked next to the C-130 Hercules, a converted CV-22 Osprey - a copy of the downed Raptor-Two - was also being prepared. Inside the cockpit, Colonel Krupp and General Taggart readied the untested aircraft, and themselves, for the coming battle.
Suddenly, Dr. Birchwood's voice crackled from the cockpit speakers in both aircraft.
"King Ghidorah has been tracked 200 miles off the coast of Long Island," he reported. "The kaiju is flying at low speed, but should arrive in the area in the next hour or so..."
General Taggart keyed his mike. "What about Godzilla?" he asked.
"Still approaching along the Hudson," Birchwood replied. "He should arrive in Manhattan at about the same time."
General Taggart nodded. This is no coincidence, the general thought. Poor Lori was right. Something has been guiding Godzilla to this place all along... But for what purpose? Taggart wondered. Are they going to destroy each other, or join forces against mankind?
Taggart keyed his mike. "Prepare for takeoff," he commanded.
* * *
News teams from all the major networks were positioned around Manhattan. Nobody was sure where - or even if - the monsters would come ashore, so every network affiliate stretched their manpower to the limit, trying to cover the biggest story of the brand-new century.
On the Brooklyn Promenade, a tree-lined public space along the shore of the borough, with a panoramic view of lower Manhattan's towering financial buildings, the news cameras vied for the best positions. Near the entrance to the promenade, Robin Halliday stood facing a camera mounted on a tripod, the skyline of New York City spread out behind her.
Watching the teenage newswoman, Linda Carlisle leaned against the INN satellite truck, her arms folded across her chest. Mike Timko approached the camerawoman.
"What do you think of our star?" he asked, indicating Robin. The teenager was retouching her lipstick.
"I think that if I'd had half her ambition
and stamina when I was seventeen, I'd be president now."
Mike snorted. "You wouldn't want that job. Have you seen that guy lately? He's aged twenty years!"
"Yeah, well, the last few months have been rough on everybody," Linda said, a shadow of pain behind her eyes.
Mike nodded, remembering Tony Batista, but he said nothing.
"Look at her," Linda observed. "A brush with a monster, a bath in Varan guano, two helicopter crashes, and a week in a hospital - and she still looks like she just stepped out of the shower on a spring morning -"
Suddenly, a commotion broke out among the camera team next to them, a bunch of losers from one of the Big Three networks. Linda turned around just as one of the network cameramen pointed his lens into the sky. She looked up at the same time as Mike.
"What the hell...?" Mike muttered.
Linda lunged for her camera and pointed it toward the overcast clouds above Manhattan, where something was definitely happening!
* * *
While there were news teams scattered all around Manhattan, only one news crew was actually in Manhattan.
Inside the glass-enclosed observation deck of the Empire State Building, a cameraman, a satellite technician, and a lone reporter waited for the monsters to begin their assault on New York City.
"None of this is new to you, eh, Gordon?" the cameraman joked.
Nick Gordon, the award-winning young science reporter whose brush with Godzilla in Tokyo resulted in a best-selling book, shook his head.
"Nope," he said blandly. "Been there, done that."
"What do you think will happen?" the satellite technician asked.
Nick thought about it for a minute. "They'd better fight," he said finally "A lot of football games have been preempted for this, and these monsters owe it to the fans to provide a good show."
The cameraman and the technician both laughed. Nick turned away from them and gazed out the window at the city below. He remembered the last time he'd witnessed Godzilla's coming, and his thoughts turned melancholy.
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