The spire shook beneath her. Maigo was moving.
No choice, Lilly decided. She sprang up through the hole high above, teeth bared, claws extended and ready to fight.
18
Water sprays through the lighthouse’s broken windows with the frenetic energy of a psychotic waterpark fun house. The torrent surges against us, pushing us down the spiral stairs. The only thing that keeps Collins, Woodstock and me from spiraling down to the bottom is the fact that we’re all twisted up with each other and the metal balusters. Saltwater forces its way into my mouth, gagging me. I turn my head, coughing hard, as more water cascades over my head.
I blink away the stinging saltwater and see Collin’s face beneath mine. At the bottom of our human pile, she’s being doused again and again, but she never flinches. She’s got her eyes clenched shut and her teeth grinding. Why isn’t she moving? I wonder, and then I see the truth. We’re not tangled in the balusters, Collins is holding on to them, supporting our weight and fighting the rushing water. Her Herculean effort is keeping us alive. Could there be a better woman than this?
The spray of water stops as quickly as it arrived. The wave is beyond us. Collins sucks in a deep breath and coughs. Her arms start to shake. “Get...off.”
Muttering curses to the sea, the Kaiju and a bunch of people I’ve never heard of, Woodstock pries himself off of me and takes hold of one of Collins’s arms, easing her burden. I push myself up next and take her other arm. Working together, we pull her up.
There’s no congratulations, praise or thanks between us. That will come later. Right now we’re still in survival mode, and that means pleasantries can wait until after we’re sure a 400-foot-tall, violent death machine isn’t about to squash us.
Leaving Collins to catch her breath and Woodstock to work the kinks out of his old joints, I scramble back up to the lantern room and out onto the catwalk. The wave rolls toward Boston Harbor, but I don’t see anything else. Where the hell are you?
I take out my phone, but when I try to wake it up, the screen blinks funny shapes at me and then goes blank. It’s soaked. Two in one day. I grip the railing, fighting a growing sense of hopelessness. I can’t communicate with the Crow’s Nest. I can’t coordinate with the military. I can’t even summon a boat to come pick us up. Even if I can figure out how to beam lighthouse Morse code back to the coast, there won’t be many people paying attention. Granted, the military might see it. Might even understand an old fashioned S.O.S., but they won’t know it’s me, and odds are, they’ll be facing down Lovecraft.
Then I remember the Zoomb case, and I nearly leap for joy. There is one person I can contact, and I’m not actually out of the fight. Far from it. I’m about to head inside to find the case and make sure its contents are still in one piece, when something about the fading wave catches my attention.
It’s not straight.
The further away it gets, the clearer it becomes. The wave that nearly drowned us is shaped like a V. It’s not really a wave at all.
It’s a wake.
Lovecraft is here.
Chased by the first hint of sunlight on the horizon, the monster slides through the lingering gloom, rising from the depths. I’m sure the monster has been sighted by now, but no one is taking action. Are they waiting for me? Are they sparing the city from an assault they know will be futile? After all, we don’t really know what this creature intends to do once it rises from the ocean, but if recent history has taught us anything, it’s that when a Kaiju steps onto dry land, cities are destroyed and people are killed. Maybe it’s just looking for a good spot to bask in the sun, and tan that pale skin. But even a benign Kaiju will still lay waste to anything it touches.
I hurry back into the lantern room and nearly knock Woodstock over. “The case. Where is it?”
Collins rises from the watchroom hatch, holding the case up to me. “Lovecraft is here?” When I take the case and place it on the floor, she answers her own question. “Of course it’s here. You know, I was kind of hoping our dates would improve after we got hitched.”
“Well, you know what they say about relationships forged in stressful circumstances,” Woodstock says, but he stops short when Collins gives him what he calls, ‘that look.’ The old pilot raises his hands. “Won’t be a problem for you two, of course. Stressful circumstances are what we handle.”
“Nice save,” I say, and I open the case. The waterproof seal has done its job. The devices inside, encased in foam, are dry and held perfectly in place. Two black remotes, comparable in design and function to Wii remotes, lay on either side of a virtual reality headset. I pry the black headset out of the foam and slide it onto my head. The black design with a red band across the front makes me look like the X-Men’s Cyclops, and ultimately, the effect of this helmet isn’t too dissimilar from the eye-laser-blasting mutant. The lasers just won’t come from my head, and they won’t be bright red. They’ll be invisible to everyone, but me.
With the device in place, I tap the power button on the side and get an OS display projected in front of me. I lower a microphone from the side of the helmet and wait for the system to connect to the satellite. Once the connection is made, I hold my hands out. “Remotes?”
Collins places the two remotes in my hands. I can tell it’s her by the way her fingers linger over mine. Collins is a tough woman. Far tougher than me. We’ve both had our fair share of monstrous battles, but she managed to free herself from an abusive relationship and rebuild her life, not to mention her body, to become who she is today. Not many people could pull that off. It’s a horrible past I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but it’s part of why I love her, and a big part of why we’re still alive. No matter what the circumstances, I know she’ll never give up, and I’m able to borrow that strength when necessary. And sometimes, I get to add crazy, cool, killer technology to that strength.
Remotes in my hands, I connect to the Zoomb Swarm system, which instigates a connection to Alessi.
The control room at the secret Zoomb operations center, located in New Hampshire, where no one would ever think to look, is projected into the VR headset. I turn my head and see Alessi standing next to me, despite being a hundred miles away.
On her end, she’s looking at a screen that can show an icon of me...riding a Velociraptor, holding a machine gun and wearing a monocle...or footage captured by the camera mounted in the front of my headset. I figure out it’s the latter when she asks, “Are you in a lighthouse?”
I turn my head left and right so she can see the lighthouse, and that Collins and Woodstock are with me. “Graves Light. Off of Boston. Going to need a ride at some point. Now, fill me in.”
“Well, you’re alive,” she says, sounding relieved. “Devine shows you went offline after touching down.”
“Landed upside down, in water, and then got hit by a tidal wave. Nearly drowned. No biggie. Are we still in place?”
“In a holding pattern three miles out from Boston. Whenever you’re ready.”
This contingency plan would normally have me on a plane, or in a bunker many miles away from the battle, to ensure I’m not taken out of the action prematurely. But we’re not going anywhere soon, so the granite lighthouse will do. The Kaiju has already passed us by, so we should be good. Should isn’t always a good friend, though. Sometimes should kicks you square in the nuts.
“I’m ready,” I say and then, despite the horrid circumstances, I smile. Since taking over Zoomb and being made aware of this black project—one of many—I’ve been itching to say my next words. “Release the Swarm.”
“Feed loop to Alpha One—”
“Whoever came up with that name better be wearing a T-shirt that says ‘Captain Redundant’ by tomorrow. From now on, Alpha group is Hydra.”
To my surprise, Alessi actually smiles. “Appropriate. Feed loop to Hydra One in three...two...”
I brace myself for the transition. I’ve done this several times, first in a VR simulation and then with the real thing. But this will
be my first time with the entire Swarm.
“One.”
The Zoomb operations center disappears, and I’m suddenly falling out of the back of a plane. The view, high above Boston, is dizzying. I flinch, but I’m steadied by Collins’s hands. My vision might be telling me that I’m miles above, but I’m still standing in the lighthouse, seeing the world through the eyes of a drone, of which I am now in control.
Gripping the two remotes, I pilot the drone in a wide circle. A mostly dark Boston slips past below. A slice of sun peeks up over the horizon. And then I see them. The Swarm. One hundred gray drones—more stealthy looking than those used by the U.S. military, and capable of Vertical Take Off and Landing—spilling out of the back of a C-130 Hercules transport plane. And one by one, they fall in line, behind Hydra One.
While I pilot the control drone, an AI guides the rest, enabling them to follow my lead, stay out of each other’s way and intelligently avoid collisions with each other, buildings, planes or Kaiju. If the group is separated, they’ll come back together. Individually, they’re eight feet across and powerful enough to carry a person, but they’re not especially intimidating. When they fly together, like a shoal of fish or a swarm of bees, well, they’re pretty impressive. And if Hydra One is destroyed, my control will leap to Hydra Two, and then Three, and on down the line until there are no more drones left. Essentially, I’m the immortal head of Hydra that keeps coming back.
“Swarm released,” Alessi says. I can hear her through the headset, though Collins and Woodstock can’t. I can hear them, though.
“It’s past the outer islands, boss,” Woodstock says. “Headed for Pleasure Bay. Other side of that is South Boston.”
South Boston, unlike the North End, Waterfront, Financial District and the Back Bay, survived Nemesis nearly unscathed. People are still living there while the rest of the city has been rebuilding. I’m sure the tsunami did some damage already, but it’s still the worst possible place in Boston, in terms of lives at risk, for Lovecraft to make land.
I bank hard and descend toward the city, which looks more like it’s built of scaffolding than actual buildings. A display in the upper right shows the Swarm following my turn and then spreading out around me like aerial soldiers charging into battle.
I spot the broad wake nearing the city, but Lovecraft is still hidden by the dark water, and until it rises, the Swarm’s weapons won’t be effective. Each drone is equipped with a high power direct-energy weapon system, which is a fancy way of saying motherfuckin’ lasers. Individually, they could kill a person or destroy a small target, like a vehicle’s tire. And in its own way, that’s great. The practical applications for the military and law enforcement, who can turn the power down and make the laser a non-lethal stun gun, are immense. But that’s not how I’m going to use them. The lasers, mounted in the nose of each drone, have a 180 degree range of motion, and each one will aim where Hydra One aims, the AI adjusting for the slight difference in position and perspective. A hundred small lasers quickly become one large laser with enough force to carve a skyscraper in half.
They’re limited by line of sight and inclement weather, but there isn’t a cloud in the dawn sky and the harbor is empty. On the bright side, while each of those useless missiles cost millions of dollars, each laser blast with the equivalent force costs fifty-nine cents, times the number of drones, in this case, fifty-nine bucks. That’s math even I can do.
The harbor churns.
White froth explodes.
Lovecraft rises at the center of the explosion. Its wings, long arms and many tentacles stretch out in the morning sun. While I can’t hear its roar through the Swarm, I can hear it just fine from the lighthouse.
“Better hurry,” Collins says. Her voice is lost in a breeze, and I realize she’s standing outside, watching the Kaiju.
“A little closer,” I say, piloting Hydra One straight toward the giant. I want to hit this thing with a full power blast out of the gate. And Lovecraft makes it easy for me. The monster has risen, but it’s not moving. It’s standing still.
“The hell is it waiting for?” Woodstock asks.
“Hudson,” Alessi says, “I’ve patched in Watson. I think he has an answer.”
Watson’s voice comes through a little too loud. He’s shouting and excited. “Second target incoming. Still two hundred miles out to the east, but moving fast. This time we have visual confirmation. Jon, it’s her. It’s Nemesis.”
I’m thrown by the news, but not entirely surprised. Nemesis has gone from the wrathful judge of mankind to our abusive protector. Maybe that has something to do with Endo’s new role in her life, but I think it’s mostly because the vengeance goddess with an overzealous moral compass has realized there are much worse things in the world than humans. This changes things, and might explain what Lovecraft is waiting for, but I’d rather the Kaiju didn’t turn Boston into a WWF ‘squared circle,’ and I’m not about to waste the opportunity to hit a stationary target. I engage the weapons system and use the controls beneath my right thumb to target Lovecraft’s head. A quick button tap locks the laser on target and the Swarm follows suit.
Then I pull the trigger.
19
Two minds working as one. That was the simplest way Maigo had expressed her connection to Nemesis. Her body had been torn asunder as the monster grew, but then it reformed inside the beast as a separate, but connected being. While they didn’t share thoughts, their egos pushed and shoved for supremacy. But ultimately, it was Nemesis who was in control, and during those chaotic days of rapid growth, Maigo’s ‘voice’ was limited to its most primal state, which cried out for vengeance—a mission the ancient beast gladly accepted.
But now, connected to a much different kind of monster, Maigo felt some comforting changes, the first of which was that her voice was dominant. The second voice was different. She could feel its intelligence, but there was a complete lack of emotion. It didn’t burn with uncontrollable rage the way Nemesis did. The artificial intelligence that guided the robot reached out to the world, detecting planes, helicopters and people above. Beyond that, it felt radio, satellite and cell signals, patching into the world and taking in untold bytes of data, encrypted or not. But these actions were automatic, like breathing or a heartbeat, not extensions of a will.
Another drastic difference was that with Nemesis, she could feel, see, smell and taste everything that Nemesis experienced. It had left her with nightmares that plagued her mind, whether or not she was sleeping. But her connection to this non-organic robot didn’t experience the world in the same way. She didn’t feel what the robot felt, she simply knew it. In some ways, it felt like a video game. Knowing rather than experiencing. The giant machine could lose an arm, and she’d know it. Maybe even be shocked by it. But she wouldn’t feel pain the way she had with Nemesis, who was hit by scores of missiles, subjected herself to self-immolation and shed her own skin.
Maigo looked up and saw the spire rising up, the ceiling hundreds of feet above. Four hundred thirty two feet, six and a half inches, she thought, the AI transferring the information to her mind. The system also identified Lilly, rising quickly toward the top, where a bunch of Russians waited to greet her.
She’s going to need backup, and faster than she could think, she knew how to climb out.
“What is this thing?” she thought.
Ikthius Umbridle. The alien words entered her mind as a deep voice.
“I don’t know what that means.”
She sensed the AI unraveling all of Earth’s languages at once, understanding which she spoke and then adjusting its internal dialogue to suit her.
Translation: I am the Watcher of this planet. Of Earth. Mission parameters: One. Atlantide defense. Two. Gestorumque eradication. Three. Defense of local population. Four. Early detection of Aeros oppressors. Mission parameter one: failure. Mission parameter two: success. Mission parameters three and four: ongoing.
“The Watcher,” she thought. “That’s not nearly catc
hy enough for Dad.”
Jon Hudson, the deep voice replied, and Maigo felt some of her memories of her adoptive father slide into the Watcher’s memory.
“Hyperion,” she thought to the Watcher. Over the past year, she’d studied history in detail, searching for clues about the Atlanteans, Nemesis Prime and other hints that Earth really had been visited and influenced by a race of aliens known as the Ferox. Hyperion was a Titan, the god of light, and translated to ‘watcher from above.’ Seeing as how this Watcher had come from very, very far above, the name fit. “Your name is Hyperion now.”
Confirmed. Watcher designation is now Hyperion. Jon Hudson will approve, the voice said.
“Yes, yes he will.”
She felt another wave of memories transfer to Hyperion. Once again, it was an involuntary part of the Watcher-Voice connection, but these memories, of Nemesis, prompted a response.
Gestorumque detected.
“Nemesis,” she corrected.
Gestorumque designated ‘Nemesis,’ detected.
“It’s a memory,” she thought. “It’s just—” And then she knew she was wrong. Hyperion had accessed her memories of Nemesis, but it was detecting the actual Nemesis through its connections to the outside world. Nemesis was in the Atlantic, headed toward Boston.
Father...Dad, the voice said. Jon Hudson is in Boston. Mother...mom, designation Ashley Collins, is in Boston. Dickhead...old man, designation Woodstock, is in Boston.
Gestorumque detected, Hyperion said. Designation unknown. Maigo saw what looked like highly zoomed-in news footage of a massive explosion. Designation unknown.
Before she could react to this news, the voice repeated, Gestorumque detected. The view this time was from a weather station camera pointed at the ocean. She didn’t recognize the view, but the information gathered from the signal source identified the location as Tokyo. The ocean rose up as something large surged toward the coast. Designation unknown.
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