Project Hyperion

by Jeremy Robinson

  As the ten tentacles spread wide, a circular mouth is revealed. Layers of long, pointed teeth surround the mouth. Layer by layer, the teeth bloom into a kind of death flower, ready to stab and shove food into a mouth big enough to swallow Betty whole. If that wasn’t bad enough, a tongue of twitching red tendrils warbles just inside the maw.

  The creature is one nasty sonuvabitch. But part of me knows that while this monster, and the alien species that spawned it, are the inspiration for Cthulhu, this isn’t the actual monster. Cthulhu was fiction. This...this is real, and deserves its own name. Lovecraft, I decide.

  Lovecraft’s threat comes to an abrupt end as a hellfire missile screams in below us and detonates against the open tentacles. There’s a body-shaking roar, first from the explosion, and then from the Kaiju. When the ball of fire fades, I see Lovecraft staggering back, but there’s no obvious sign of injury. All tentacles are present and accounted for.

  Then it’s hit again, this time from the back. The Kaiju spins around in the ocean, lashing out with its massive, ape-like arm. The creature’s swinging at something that’s already gone, but it manages to swipe a third missile from the sky before it explodes. And then, chaos erupts. Missiles cut through the air from every direction. Torpedoes slide through the water. Enough firepower to sink Atlantis a dozen times over converges on the creature.

  And Lovecraft sees it all coming.

  Knows what it means. I can see understanding in its black eyes. And then, defiance.

  In the face of the U.S. military’s Earth-shattering power, the monster doesn’t cringe or raise its arms. It stands still, and waits.

  Not a good sign.

  “Fuck me sideways,” Woodstock mumbles. “Thing is either fearless or a tough sumbitch.”

  “I think it’s both,” Collins says.

  The fusillade of missiles, rockets and torpedoes strike in unison. The Kaiju is lost in the world’s most expensive fireworks display, costing untold millions of dollars. Helicopter Betty shakes as a pressure wave slides past like an incoming tide. Smoke billows around the monster, hiding its luminous form even better than the water could.

  Far below, three Apache attack helicopters swing low and fly circles around the expanding cloud.

  On Devine, the helicopters are displayed as War Party Zero. War Parties One–Three are deployed between us and Boston. I tap the icon and connect to the pilots directly. “War Party Zero, this is Hudson, do you have eyes on the target?” I nearly say, ‘Over,’ but since Devine works through an encrypted satellite network, there’s no need for the standard radio jargon.

  “Negative, sir,” one of the pilots says. “Target is concealed.”

  Maybe the thing is pulverized. There’s no way to know. But in a situation like this, better safe than sorry. At $14.6 million a pop, MOABs, officially known as GBU-43/B Massive Ordnance Air Blast bombs, are a pricey option, but in this case, I think the expense is justified. The 30,000-pound bunker busters are designed to punch through 200 feet of concrete before detonating. If it can punch through this thing’s skin, it should turn the rest of it into a smear. Should being the operative word. We are dealing with a creature from another planet, most likely created by an advanced civilization, for the express purpose of destroying and/or subjugating entire worlds.

  “Get out of there,” I tell the pilots. “We’re going to—”

  “Hold on,” a pilot says. “I see something.”

  Outside the window and far below, I see a flicker of light from within the rising smoke. Did a missile hit late? A few taps on Devine’s interface confirms that’s not the case.

  The light flickers again, this time with clear hues of green and blue. Shit.

  “War Party Zero, get the hell out of—”

  An explosion cuts my voice short. One of the helicopters has exploded. The other two are peeling away.

  A large, white hand with two fingers and a thumb reaches through the smoke. Pulses of light ripple through the skin, forearm to fingertips. I catch a glimpse of what looks like short wriggling tendrils coating the fingers, and then they’re wrapped around the chopper. The Apache explodes, but most of the force is contained within the massive fist.

  The lone surviving member of War Party Zero dives to the deck and cruises low over the frothing waters. But the Kaiju somehow sees, or senses the fleeing vehicle. And instead of reaching out and plucking it from the sky, Lovecraft swipes a massive hand through the water, kicking up a wave that wraps around the chopper and pulls it into the sea. No longer mobile and slowly sinking, the Apache is defenseless.

  Smoke parts as Lovecraft steps through it, raises a hand and slams it down on the helicopter.

  Each Apache held a two-man crew. Our first encounter with this thing has cost six lives, but that’s really just the beginning. If this creature reaches the coast...if it moves past the coast and heads inland, like the Tsuchi did a year ago...then a lot more people are going to die.

  The Kaiju bears the scars of our assault, but they’re little more than blackened star bursts from where missiles struck and detonated. There’s no blood. No charred skin. Like Nemesis, this thing can handle conventional explosives, but if the MOAB can pierce its skin, there might still be a chance of stopping this thing, or at the very least, turning it around.

  With a quick tap on Devine, I give the B-2 bomber the green light to drop not just one MOAB, but three. Their combined might out-powers everything that has hit the creature so far.

  “Give us a little more wiggle room,” I say to Woodstock, and I feel myself pushed back into my seat as we ascend to 18,000 feet.

  There will be no whistle as the first of the three bombs approaches and passes. There’ll be no spotting it. No anticipating it. MOABs just arrive. Devine posts a message. The first bomb is away. The B-2 is swinging around for another pass. Unlike many bombs, MOABs aren’t dropped in a cluster. They’re precision ordnance, guided to the target by GPS, and deployed one at a time. In fact, this is the first time in military history that the bombs will be used in rapid succession. Why? Because usually, one is all you need. It will take just seconds to—

  Betty shakes. “What’s happening?”

  “Gust of wind,” Woodstock says, fighting the controls. “Came out of freaking nowhere.”

  For a moment I worry that we’re too close to the target area, that the first MOAB has just missed us, but we’re miles away. That’s when I see the smoke around the Kaiju. It’s swirling as though caught in a cyclone.

  “The hell is that?” I ask.

  I’m not expecting an answer, but Collins pipes up. “Look above it.”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “I saw a red pinpoint of light just before—”

  The ocean erupts. The first MOAB has struck, piercing several hundred feet of ocean and detonating. The upheaval of water is massive. Catastrophic. It’s also a quarter mile off target, cast aside by what must be category five hurricane winds.

  My phone vibrates. The second MOAB has been released.

  “There!” Collins says, pointing. And I see it. It’s barely visible, but I see the small red light, and then some kind of black sphere, lit up from below by Lovecraft’s ambient glow. It’s floating a few hundred feet above the Kaiju’s head, and it’s at the center of the storm.

  “Take us closer!” I shout.

  “You’re nuts,” Woodstock says, but he banks Betty hard and flies into the target zone. “Good thing we’re both nuts, or this relationship would be in trouble.”

  “Lower,” Collins says, at home in the nut house.

  We carve a circle lower, descending thousands of feet fast enough to make my stomach lurch.

  The second MOAB strikes, hitting the ocean on the far side of the Kaiju. Betty is jolted by a pressure wave, but the monster has absorbed most of it, without slowing down. Lovecraft takes one long stride out of the smoke, its body in the clear once more, twitching with colorful irritation.

  “Down!” I shout. “Go! Go! Go!”

&n
bsp; Betty turns in a dive, dropping us toward the black sphere, which I can now easily see. It’s silhouetted against the luminous creature below.

  “Collins!” I shout. “Do it!”

  Fighting gravity, Collins yanks the side door open with a grunt. The cabin fills with a roaring wind. Woodstock has to adjust for it, but has no trouble. We’re in the eye of the storm, just above the sphere and about to pass it. Collins shoves the FN MAG machine gun into position and it locks in place. She chambers the first round and leans out into the cutting wind, just as Woodstock arrests our descent and puts us into a tight turn around the sphere. Once we pull alongside it, the wind slams into us, drawing a shout of concern from Woodstock, now fighting for control.

  Collins pulls the trigger and holds it down. Over the pounding chopper blades and rushing wind, the staccato boom of the machine gun is deafening. I watch tracer rounds, blazing bright orange, cut through the sky, their trajectories twisted by the wind. Collins compensates for it by aiming to the side of the sphere and letting the wind pull the bullets back on target.

  Sparks erupt from the smooth black sphere as high caliber rounds strike its surface. The first five seem to have no effect, but the sixth brings its smooth surface into clear focus. It had been spinning and is now perfectly still.

  Devine vibrates my phone.

  The third bomb has been released.

  With the sphere sitting still, Collins focuses her attack and pours on the lead until the small red light on its surface blinks and goes dark. The sphere falls from the sky and the cyclone fades.

  “Get us out of here!” I shout, just a second before the third and final MOAB drops from the sky and strikes its target.

  15

  Maigo stumbled back from the giant eyes, caught off guard by their serious gaze and proximity. But she hadn’t forgotten the creature behind her, and the competing threats twisted her up. She tripped over herself and fell to the floor, her bare skin slapping against the perfectly smooth surface.

  The thing called Leshiy burst out laughing, sounding something like a hyena, the cry part humor, part threat, and absolutely grating.

  Maigo pounded her fists in the floor and pushed herself back up.

  The creature facing her swayed back and forth, each movement fluid, its long mohawk of hair wavering over the top of its head, down its long neck and along part of its spine. Drool dangled from between its teeth, which were a random mix of human and canine. It couldn’t even close its mouth all the way.

  “The hell are you?” Maigo asked.

  Leshiy let out a whoop and stood up on its hind legs. Its belly was crisscrossed with twitching muscles. The sounds of breaking bones made Maigo wince. The creature’s body contorted, and then shifted into something new. It stood tall now, almost human with a face that...

  Oh my god, Maigo thought, it has Brice’s face.

  She took a step back, fists clenched, but she stopped when she remembered the burning eyes behind her. She wanted to turn and look, to really see what was there, if it was alive, but Leshiy was a predator no matter what shape it took. She couldn’t turn her back to it.

  Leshiy giggled and shifted its body again, the crack of bones emanating mostly from its face. As the facial structure changed, muscles contracted and loosened. The eyes clouded and black pupils emerged.

  Maigo gasped, sparking a tidal wave of laughter from the creature.

  It took all of Maigo’s willpower to hold her temper in check. The creature hadn’t just stolen her face, it had given life to the nightmare that plagued her. The memory of her transition from human girl to full grown Nemesis was hazy. She’d done her best to forget it. But she remembered a moment, staring into the reflective surface of a morgue cooler door, where she saw her human face snarling from the body of a monster.

  She had looked a lot like this.

  It’s not me, she told herself. It never will be.

  Leshiy dropped back to all fours with a crackling of bones, its body reverting back to its original predatory form. But it kept her face, frozen in an ugly smile, eyes wide and unblinking.

  The air grew warmer around her. She could feel the thing behind her. Was it alive? Was it breathing on her?

  She started to turn and saw Leshiy move in the corner of her eye. She turned back and found the creature already halfway to her, reaching out with both clawed hands.

  Maigo dived to the side, landing on the floor. Her bare skin squeaked on the smooth surface, stopping her before she reached the platform’s edge.

  The creature with her face flew past. With a squeal of nails on chalkboard, Leshiy scraped its talons across the floor as it slid toward the edge. When it stopped, white lines traced the path of each nail. A thin spiral of metal curled from the floor at the tip of each claw.

  Maigo stared at the lines dug by the impossibly sharp claws.

  If it hits me with those, even once...

  Giggling the whole way, Leshiy moved around the outer edge of the platform. It stayed low to the floor, ready to pounce.

  Maigo moved around the outer edge, keeping the metal sphere positioned between them. She could feel the red eyes staring at her, beckoning for her to look, but she kept her gaze leveled at Leshiy, and it did the same to her.

  It peeked around the column supporting the metal sphere, using her own face to mock her. The thing turned its head ninety degrees and let out a laugh.

  She laughed back at it, mocking and annoyed.

  The creature’s head snapped back as though slapped. The frozen humor faltered.

  The absolute shock from the creature drew an actual laugh from Maigo.

  It flinched again. All traces of twisted humor faded. It hissed through misaligned snarling teeth.

  Then it attacked.

  Leshiy lunged in one direction, then scrambled over the floor, rushing in the other direction. Maigo was thrown off balance by the change in direction, but it was the sudden change in tactics from savage beast to skilled fighter that really threw her. Leshiy caught the orb’s spire and swung around it. Both its feet hit Maigo in the chest, kicking her hard and throwing her back.

  She crashed down atop the long walkway and tumbled head over heels, stopping against the massive spire wall, the staircase rising up above her. She pushed herself up with a grunt and pressed her fingers against her ribs, testing for breaks. But her bones seemed just as solid as ever. Leshiy might be able to slice her open, but it wasn’t strong enough to break her bones.

  Good to know.

  With a heckling laugh, Leshiy charged.

  Maigo raced to meet it.

  The beast dove forward, swiping for Maigo’s gut with both hands. But she was no longer there. Maigo leapt over the creature and kicked the back of its head. By the time she’d landed on her feet, it had crashed into the spire wall. When it turned to face her again, curling its lip back into a sick grin, several of the teeth were broken, tendrils of drool dangling from the new gaps.

  Maigo wanted to laugh at it, to taunt it into taking action before it was ready, to use its own tactic against it, but she couldn’t. The sight before her was as pitiful as it was horrifying.

  Like her and Lilly, this creature hadn’t been born this way. Nature hadn’t designed it. The corrupt minds of modern men were responsible for its existence, and for sending it down here after her. It wasn’t her enemy. Not really. In some ways, it was similar to Nemesis Prime, the monster created and tortured, then set loose upon the world. The ancient Prime had been no more a creature of free will than this hideous creation. She couldn’t hold it responsible for its actions.

  But she could put it out of its misery.

  Leshiy charged again, swiping with one hand and then the next. Maigo leapt back from each blow, the talons narrowly missing the flesh of her belly. When the creature’s second missed strike left it overextended, Maigo drilled her fist into the thing’s face.

  She felt bones buckle and break.

  Its face wrapped around her fist.

  And then it fell
back, still and unmoving.

  Maigo looked down at the creature, its face folded inward where her fist had struck.

  Ugh, she thought, disgusted that she had just done that to a living creature.

  Then a bone cracked.

  And another.

  The face puffed out, bones sliding back into place. The reconstructing face no longer held her image, but it frightened her even more. If it could survive having its face inverted...

  Maigo’s thoughts were interrupted by a pressure around her ankle. She glanced down and saw Leshiy’s tail wrapping around her leg. Before she could react, the tail snapped up and pulled her off her feet.

  The creature sprang to its feet, cackling.

  Cast in the red light of those big, red eyes, the monster raised its hands, claws extended, ready to eviscerate Maigo.

  It stopped at the sound of a hiss, growing louder, coming from above.

  The creature turned its head up just in time to see Lilly drop from a hundred feet up and land hard upon its shoulders. Leshiy crumpled as bones snapped and gave way to feline weight.

  Lilly stood above the motionless creature and clapped her hands together. “What would you do without—”

  Before Maigo could offer a warning, Leshiy’s tail wrapped around the girl’s waist, lifted her off the floor and tossed her over the edge. Lilly reached out with her claws, but she was too far. Maigo watched her fall over the side, and for the first time, she saw real fear in Lilly’s eyes.

  “No!” Maigo said, and kicked out.

  Leshiy slammed into the spire wall, and quickly started pulling itself back together. But Maigo was there, full of rage, punching and kicking and breaking bones faster than they could reform. With a gargled laugh, Leshiy struck out and caught Maigo’s shoulder, opening up four red stripes. Maigo responded by slamming her head into the creature’s face, three times, until it was nearly flattened. She stepped back, breathing heavily, and watched as the body and head started pulling itself back together.