by JE Gurley
The Kaiju was in the heart of Budapest. Moscow did not want it to move eastward into any newly acquired Soviet territories. Toward this goal, they were willing to go to great lengths, even risk an international incident while NATO had its hands full in Western Europe. The once independent former satellite states once again became cozy with Russia when the aliens attacked. Russia intended that newfound love for Mother Russia did not fade once the alien menace ended.
Belovol wasn’t sure it would end. Each alien attack drained resources and further divided Earth’s defenders. Using nuclear weapons on the cyborg creatures was doing the aliens’ bidding.
“Forty kilometers to Budapest,” Andropov whispered in his headphones. “Time to arm our payload.”
His weapons specialist’s voice was calm and even. Belovol envied him his serenity, but then, Andropov was not the one firing a missile that might kill 1.7 million people. He was. Though Andropov was in charge of weapons systems, Belovol had insisted that, as pilot, he be the one to accept the responsibility. He would spare his friend that heartache. He clenched and unclenched his right hand to shake off the cramps from squeezing the throttle too tightly.
“Green light on my readiness panel,” he replied. He reached over with a shaky hand to flip the arming switch. “Arming light green,” he reported.
He could see the city of Budapest ahead of him. Budapest, really two cities – Buda on the west bank of the Danube, and Pest on the eastern bank – looked like a war zone. Smoke curled from countless buildings, while a line of flattened buildings, the Kaiju’s path, cut through the heart of the city. The creature lay across the Danube just north of the Erzsebet Hid, the Elizabeth Bridge, creating an ebony dam. Rising water flooded the low-lying Pest portion of the double city, inundating the Inner City’s many shops, museums, and historic homes. The creature had decided to destroy Budapest by drowning it. In the early evening light, the water looked like dark blood spreading throughout the city.
“Do you think the United Nation’s special unit managed to kill the creature?” Andropov asked. “It is not moving.”
Belovol wondered the same thing. If the Kaiju were dead, it would be the height of infamy to fire his missile.
“I’ll approach from the north over Margaret Island,” he announced to Andropov.
“But …” his copilot began.
“Say nothing more,” Belovol warned. His superiors might be listening to their radio conversation. It would serve no purpose to radio base for verification or new orders. His orders had been clear and left no room for argument. He was to fire the missile. If he did not, command would dispatch another Fencer to complete the mission and shoot him and Andropov from the sky as traitors.
He banked the SU-24 sharply to starboard, crossing north over the city until he reached Margaret Island north of the city. He did not look down, afraid he would see the movement of people below him. He had no wish to look upon the faces of his victims. He turned due south, aligning the SU-24 with the river into the city’s drowning heart.
“It does not matter,” he said, in an effort to convince himself rather than his copilot. He shook his head and repeated, “It does not matter.”
He almost smiled with glee when a swarm of Wasps rose from the city and flew toward his aircraft. “Prepare yourself, Andropov. We have visitors.”
“Firing missiles.”
Four lances of fire shot ahead of the Fencer, the Aphis missiles. They exploded in the middle of the swarm, knocking dozens of the creatures from the sky. Dozens more remained. The rattle of the Gsh-6 23mm cannon on the belly of the jet shook the craft, as Andropov targeted Wasps closing with them. In spite of the savage cannon fire, the Wasps intent on colliding with them to bring down the Fencer, did not disperse.
“Hold tight,” he said, as he pushed the throttle forward, urging power from the twin Saturn/Lyulka AL-21-3A turbojet engines. He shot skyward at a 70-degree angle, leaving the slower moving Wasps below. Andropov raked them from above with cannon fire. The Su-24 M could reach speeds of 1600kph, but if he tried to outrun them, he would burn all his fuel. They would not make it back home. Instead, he hopped over them and resumed a level course at two thousand feet.
Five kilometers from target, he fired the Kh-102. The jet jerked as the heavy weight of the cruise missile fell away toward Budapest.
“Missile fired,” he said, his throat dry from tension.
He pushed the throttle forward and veered east back toward Ukraine. The glow of the missile’s solid-fuel engine in the dying daylight dwindled as it sped away toward target. His Sukhoi was twenty kilometers away when the missile detonated. The bright flash was behind him, but it illuminated the clouds ahead of him. Almost two million people – literally gone in a flash. He forced the image from his mind. He reversed course to verify target obliterated.
The fireball radius of a 350-kiloton yield is over a kilometer. The air blast extends for 2 kilometers in all directions. Radiation affects anyone within 5 kilometers, causing third-degree burns and a 50%–90% casualty rate. The blast over Budapest was typical. The blast flattened the city. Ironically, the blast extinguished the raging fires spreading through the city. The waters of the Danube steamed and hissed. The bridges lay submerged in the river.
The Kaiju remained where it was. It looked as pristine as it had looked a few minutes earlier on his first pass, black, shiny, and almost invisible in the dusk. Nothing moved around it. There were no Wasps or Fleas, as the Americans had named them. There were no people, only ruin and destruction delivered by his hand.
“Panchart!” he yelled into his mic.
“True. We are all bastards,” his copilot agreed. “Let’s go home.”
Belovol shot the throttle forward, eager to reach his base at Lutsk and drink himself stupid to forget what he had done.
11
August 14, USS Javelin –
Two days into the voyage, Gate sent word he needed to see Walker. Walker wondered why he called for him instead of simply coming to see him. After all, it was only a matter of a few steps. He got his answer when he spotted Gate sitting cross-legged on the deck with his computer on his lap. He recognized the look haunting the scientist’s face as one he had seen before inside Nusku, a look of determination. Gate glanced up as Walker entered the bridge. His hollow-eyed countenance betrayed no emotion, but as his fingers danced over the keyboard, a graph displaying intersecting elliptical lines moved on the big view screen.
“I think I know how we can help Earth,” he said.
“We can help Earth by defeating the Nazir.”
Gate pointed to the graph on the screen. “Each time we changed course, one of the pods moved to intercept us. The aliens know our location, have probably guessed our destination, and intend to take us out.”
“We expected that.” Walker studied the graph for a moment. A large gap remained between the two craft. “Can’t we shake them, zig when they zag or something?”
“It’s not a car chase, Aiden, but I have an idea.”
“I’m listening.” He didn’t know anything about gravity drives or celestial mechanics, but he trusted Gate. He noticed the heated look that passed between Gate and Blivens, indicating some dissention between them. Clearly, the two had discussed the subject at great lengths and did not agree.
“If we continue moving farther out of our original flight path, we add days to our journey. The advantage goes to the aliens. Because of the distance involved, they need make only small corrections to intercept us. I can’t guarantee the aliens aren’t willing to sacrifice a Kaiju pod to stop us. If so, we can’t avoid them.”
The news was a swift kick to Walker’s midsection. He struggled to inhale a lungful of the stale cabin air already rank with the odor of too many bodies. “Then we’ve lost.”
“No, not yet. We can use the aliens’ determination to destroy us to our advantage.”
His interest now piqued by Gate’s comment, Walker asked, “How?”
“We can change course to in
tercept the pod swarm. Then, when we’re close enough, we blow the ship’s gravity drive.”
Walker choked, as he replied, “Destroy the ship? That’s suicide.” He couldn’t believe Gate would suggest such a thing.
Gate shook his head. “No, no. We first stop and release the habitat modules and Lances. The Assegai can rendezvous later and pick us up. We can preset a course, remote control the Javelin to the swarm, and destroy it.”
The idea of destroying the pods appealed to him, but the risks were great. “Our bosses aren’t going to like sacrificing a multi-billion dollar ship. Will it work?”
Gate hesitated. Walker read much into the astrophysicist’s reluctance to answer the question. “Theoretically, it should, if I did the math correctly. Blivens here helped me with that.”
Blivens raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Walker wasn’t afraid of taking risks, but risking the entire mission was another matter. “Using the Javelin as a super bomb might give Earth a fighting chance, but I don’t like dropping off the Lances and the assault team to wait for the Assegai. If the rendezvous fails, we’re dead. The mission to Haumea will be a scrub.”
“I admit it’s a risk, but I believe a slight one.” Gate stood and paced. His long legs made short work of the small confines of the bridge – Six paces, turn, then six paces back. “The rear module is detachable. If we disconnect oxygen #1 as well, the module should maintain a breathable atmosphere for forty-eight hours; the suits will extend that by another six hours. I’ll make certain a timely rendezvous with the Assegai is possible before we commit to the endeavor.”
“Even so …”
Gate’s arms and hands danced in front of him as he explained. “Yes, yes, I know. Both oxygen tanks would be best, but the liquid oxygen from tank #2 also serves as a coolant for the gravity drive. We can’t use it.” He sighed. “It would be great if we could pump oxygen from #1 to #2, but no one anticipated the need. We’ll have to settle with one tank. If we guide the Javelin into the flight path of the incoming Kaiju pods, they won’t pass up the opportunity to destroy it, as they are already attempting. We’ve calculated,” he indicated Blivens, “that the yield from an uncontrolled gravity anomaly explosion should destroy all the pods, the first ten anyway. The others are too far away.”
Blivens added, “Provided they don’t suspect a trap.”
That mirrored Walker’s thoughts. “What if it’s only the one pod that has already changed course to intercept us? What if the others ignore us and continue on their present course?”
Gate scratched his head. He ducked under his hammock and came up on the other side, leaning on it and swinging slightly. “Then I’ve killed a lot of people on Earth and here and wasted a lot of taxpayer dollars, Aiden.” He threw his arms in the air. “Look, I can’t guarantee anything. It’s a risk, but doing nothing … That seems far more dangerous. Ten more Kaiju is an armada. Thirty is a death knell for planet Earth.” He paused. “I’ve calculated the first ten will land in North America. If they separate too far or change their speed to intercept us, they will miss their destinations. The Nazir are too methodical to take that risk. I’m certain they will use only the one pod.”
Walker wanted to believe Gate’s plan would work. He wanted to believe it with a passion. The U.S. couldn’t stand another attack. It was barely beginning to recover from the first attack. In spite of the inherent risks involved, Gate’s plan offered a chance to even the odds. However, it was a decision he could not make alone.
“It’s up to Colonel Sakiri,” Walker said. “I’m only in charge of the ground operation.”
“I know, but if I can convince you, maybe he will agree as well.” Gate stared at Walker. “Have I?”
Walker took a deep breath to marshal his thoughts. “If we can give Earth some breathing space and still complete the mission on Haumea, I’m in. You do realize that sacrificing the Javelin means that if anything happens to the Assegai, we’re not coming home.”
“If thirty more Kaiju hit Earth, we might not have a home to come back to.”
Gate’s point struck home. The entire mission was a risk. One more shouldn’t matter. “Let’s speak to Sakiri.”
* * * *
Just as Walker figured, Sakiri thought it was a bad idea. Sakiri’s mission was to deliver his fleet of Lances to Haumea. Betting all their lives on Gate’s plan, a man he did not know, struck him as an unacceptable risk.
“If you’re wrong, Dr. Rutherford, we could lose this battle and thereby Earth.”
Gate didn’t accept Sakiri’s rejection gracefully. Walker had argued with him before. He could be persuasive. “I don’t know if we can make course corrections fast enough to evade whatever the Nazir throw at us. It depends on how determined they are. If we can eliminate part of the first swarm, Earth might have a chance.”
Walker watched Sakiri’s reactions, as the colonel mulled over Gate’s idea, gauging the depth of his concern by the set of his jaw and the way his gaze shifted around the room. Like him, Sakiri understood the odds of success of their mission were low. Any relief they could offer Earth’s beleaguered defenses seemed a no-brainer to Walker, but Sakiri had been working on the Javelin project for months. Suddenly abandoning his mission ran counter to his training and his mindset. Walker might feel the same way under similar circumstances, but he had the advantage of having witnessed the devastating destructive power of a Kaiju close hand. In his opinion, saving Earth from a single additional Kaiju would be worth the risk.
“You were added to the crew for just such a reason,” Sakiri said. “Your job is to avoid the incoming Kaiju pods. It is the reason we launched early.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at Gate, as if blaming him for the early launch. “Are you now telling me you’re not up to the task?”
Gate didn’t rise to the attack by trying to defend himself. He shrugged off Sakiri’s insult. “I think I can avoid the Kaiju, but it might lengthen the voyage by days. However, if they decide to chase us down … I don’t know. It depends on how badly they want to stop us. The aliens know more about the capability of gravity drives than we do. We’re just learning.”
“I see.” Sakiri’s gaze moved to Walker. He felt like he was a specimen slide under a microscope as Sakiri watched his face. “You’re in favor of this?”
Walker had expected Sakiri to seek his opinion, not that it mattered. His authority didn’t begin until they reached Haumea. In the end, it would be Sakiri’s decision. He sighed. “Yeah. I trust Gate. Killing Kaiju is my job. I’ve seen what they can do. Killing ten in one fell swoop seems like an acceptable risk to me.”
Sakiri didn’t like his answer. His disappointment showed in his eyes. “It doesn’t to me.”
Sakiri’s outright dismissal of the plan before carefully considering it surprised Walker. The inherent risks were inescapable, as they were in any mission. If it failed, it left the crew and the Lances vulnerable. The destruction or even the delay of the Assegai would sign their death sentence. Many variables had to mesh perfectly to succeed. The plan was bold and uncertain, but perhaps it would catch the Nazir by surprise.
“Thirty Kaiju could wipe out half the planet before we even reach Haumea,” Walker countered. “Millions will die. I agree it’s damn risky, but it could work.”
“If we make this attempt and fail,” Sakiri explained, “Earth will certainly be doomed. This is not a warship. It is a transport vehicle delivering the only offensive weapons we have, twenty armed Lances and a team trained to penetrate Kaiju defenses. The only viable weapon the Javelin possesses is its gravity drive. You’re proposing that we intentionally destroy the drive and the ship to eliminate a third of the incoming Kaiju armada, and then stake all our lives on a rendezvous with the Assegai to continue our mission.” Having succinctly stated his case, he paused. “No one has ever tried this before; yet, you are willing to risk everything on this slim chance of success. I cannot in good conscience agree.”
“I understand, Colonel. I really do. As you said, no one has ever tri
ed it before. Maybe we need to make things up as we go along.”
“I’m against it; however, you are technically my co-commander, so I feel I cannot decide the fate of this mission over your head. I’ll forward your proposal to Groom Lake. They’ll have to inform the President, and he’ll take it to the U.N. I’ll let them make the final decision.” He glanced at Walker with sympathy in his eyes. “I’m not blind to what stopping the Kaiju would mean to Earth, Major, but that would be a single battle. I’m concerned about winning the war.”
“It will work,” Gate said. He sounded certain. Walker wanted to believe him.
Sakiri tore his gaze from Walker and focused on Gate. “If they agree, it had better work,” he replied.
12
August 14, Nantes, France –
The first thing LaBonner realized when he awoke was that he was still alive. He hurt too badly to be dead, from his toes to the crown of his head. The only parts of his body that didn’t ache were numb. A Dextrose intravenous line ran to his blistered left arm strapped to a board. A white burn salve coated it from wrist to elbow. The same pungent ointment coated his right arm to his shoulder. He gently probed his head with his right hand and touched a bandage wrapped tightly around his forehead. Bits of singed hair protruded from the bandage.
Above him, the white fabric of a tent snapped in the wind. Large fans stirred the air by pulling in hot air from outside. The smell of alcohol and disinfectant fought with the sickening stench of death. He lifted his upper body to look around, and a shooting pain raced up his side burning like a hot poker. He glanced down. Bandages wrapped his middle torso. He remembered the shrapnel and the church collapsing, but nothing after that.