Authors: Marc Cerasini
His cold eyes scanned the room one last time.
"Get a good night's sleep," he commanded them. "You'll need it."
Sunday, June 13, 1999, 4:55 P.M. G-Force mobile command headquarters
Houston Intercontinental Airport
Houston, Texas
Things began to fall apart all across the United States the moment Godzilla stepped out of San Francisco Bay. It was one of the blackest days in the nation's history.
Twenty-six hours after Godzilla arrived, the stock market took its first step toward a historic plunge. At the same time, gold and precious metals shot up in value as investors began to fear the worst.
Fortunes were made and lost - but mostly lost. And not even financial giants or Fortune 500 companies were immune to the precipitous plunge in stock prices. In the end, the Securities and Exchange Commission stepped in and shut down the stock market early. They did not say when it would open again. After all, the nation was in a state of emergency, and the whole nation's infrastructure was now threatened.
The president went on television for the fourth time in three weeks. After the military's failure against Varan and Godzilla, he was no longer taken seriously. His calls for calm were greeted with derision and accusations of incompetence.
Riots broke out in several cities. A militia group took to the Montana mountains with a ton of weapons in tow.
Meanwhile, the environmental group Greenpeace hailed G0dzilla's return, calling the monster an "eco-avenger" who would return the world to a "more natural state."
In Nashville, Tennessee, a popular and much respected televangelist began around-the-clock live broadcasts. The preacher - formerly the spiritual counselor of presidents, governors, and captains of industry - called his broadcast "live coverage of Armageddon." He claimed, in a calm, reasonable tone, that his show would soon be the only program on the air.
Godzilla, the evangelist declared, was the Beast of Revelations. Judgment Day was at hand.
In Los Angeles, a New Age guru also announced that the Second Coming was near. Using her own system of numerology - a means of divination that assigns "mystical numbers" to each letter of the alphabet - the guru calculated that the names Rodan and
Gojira
, the Japanese name for Godzilla, both added up to in the demonic number, six.
The self-styled "Prophetess of Doom" - and former editor of a Marilyn Manson fanzine - predicted that a fourth creature, also numerologically a six, was yet to come, forming the "Number of the Beast," 666. This final monster, called "King Ghidorah," would come from the depths of space, the prophetess announced, and would end all life on Earth.
Her followers moved into their spiritual leader's recently purchased San Diego mansion to await the end. An MTV film crew joined them, and soon weekly sessions were aired on the music channel in which the prophetess - in full Goth regalia - spoke at length about "King Ghidorah."
* * *
By sunset on that grim Monday, as live footage of Godzilla striding across California - and Varan sleeping off its meal of several hundred citizens on Galveston's seawall - was constantly broadcast on every network, the country was in a panic.
Not widely reported in the media were much more disturbing developments.
There was widespread looting, riots, and general social chaos in the wake of Godzilla's coming. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, were dead - not only from Godzilla's actions, but also at the hands of their fellow men.
There were reports of heroism and common decency, too. Everyday people from all walks of life risked their own safety to help others. Many of those who still had food, clothing, and shelter shared their good fortune with those who had lost everything.
Especially inspiring was the story of a San Francisco cop named Dennis Flynn, who saved three children from a blazing inferno in the ruins of Oakland, only to die trying to pull a fourth victim to safety.
So far, casualties among the various armed services, including the National Guard, were light. Military experts felt that this situation would not last - especially if conventional forces were once again pitted against Godzilla or Varan.
* * *
General Taggart finished reading the Pentagon report, snorted in disgust, and tossed it on the desk. It was not much help. General Taggart knew most of this stuff already. He had learned it from watching network news coverage of the continuing crisis.
And anyone as old - and presumably wise - as General Taggart, could have predicted the rest. People never change, the general thought sadly. He realized that it was up to his highly trained, but as yet untested, teenagers to save the world.
* * *
In Hangar B, where Raptor-One and Raptor-Two were hidden from prying eyes, Kip Daniels sat in his command seat inside the cathedral-like cockpit of Raptor-One. His fingers flew across the keys of the weapon control panel, but his mind was far away.
Kip was just finishing the last of his systems checks. Everything was working at peak efficiency, thanks to some last-minute tinkering by Martin Wong. The Raptor was ready for combat.
But am I ready?
Kip wondered, his mind whirling with doubts.
Can I really pull the trigger on Godzilla when it comes right down to the moment of truth? And is destroying him the right thing to do? Godzilla must be here for a reason. Why can't we figure it out what that reason is?
* * *
Pierce Dillard sat alone in his tiny bedroom, inside the belly of a C-130 transport that served as the G-Force mobile command center and headquarters.
Two compartments away, Martin Wong, Tia Shimura, and Toby Nelson sat in the command station, watching the color monitors that displayed vast amounts of information - everything from weather reports to military data, navigational programs, network news feeds, live satellite imagery, and aerial surveillance of Godzilla and Varan. It even carried pictures of the continuing search for Rodan - on, above, and below the waters of Lake Oahe.
While all this was going on, Pierce sat alone. He wanted nothing more than to join them. To talk about the coming battle. To share his doubts and hopes with them.
But he was their leader. He had to stay aloof. Separate. That was part of being a commander.
The lonely part
.
Pierce suspected that a real commander wasn't supposed to feel doubt, or fear, or even a simple case of pre-combat nerves. Yet he felt all of those emotions, and more.
He was ready for the fight. He
knew
he was. But there was always an element of combat that was outside of his iron control. And that bothered him.
Since the project began, there had always been problems. First it was Lori. Pierce took her in hand and solved that problem. Then Kip became the chaotic element.
How can I control the mission when everyone else seems to fall apart? Pierce wondered. Am I the only one in complete control?
Pierce Dillard closed his eyes and sighed.
Am I really in control after all?
he wondered grimly.
I've been trying to control the mission, the team, and every element of strategy and tactics all along.
But maybe the thing I can't control isn't out there... Maybe it's in here. Inside of me.
* * *
Lori looked away from the computer screen and out the cockpit window. On the other side of Hangar B, she could see Raptor-One. Its cockpit lights were on, too. Someone else found comfort in work, she noted.
Lori had been downloading street and topographical maps of the Houston-Galveston area into Raptor-Two's computer. Once the battle began, she would have accurate, up-to-date maps of the region at her fingertips.
When another file finished downloading, Lori shut the system down. Again, her eyes drifted toward the floor of the hangar.
Still no sign of Pierce
, she thought.
Lori suspected that the pilot of Raptor-One was in his quarters - alone. She wondered why he stayed so aloof from the rest of them. Lori knew that everyone thought Pierce Dillard was a cold, ruthless leader, but she suspected that he was as vulnerable, as
human
, as any of them. Pierce just chose to bury that side of himself for the good of the project.
Lori wished that Pierce would let his guard down - with someone, anyone - for his
own
good. She decided it was time she had a talk with their fearless, solitary leader.
But just as she rose from her chair, alarms sounded.
Varan was on the move.
* * *
There was no time for a briefing. Varan had awakened, and as the tanks and fighting vehicles that surrounded it opened fire, the monster took to the sky.
Right now, Varan was heading directly toward Houston. The creature was drifting over the outer suburbs of that city at 100 miles per hour, at an altitude of 10,000 feet.
Raptor-One and Raptor-Two lifted off from Houston Intercontinental Airport just minutes after the alarm was given. The two aircraft flew toward the monster in a sandwich formation. Raptor-One, with its payload of weapons, flew low and forward, with Pierce at the controls.
Raptor-Two, under the command of Toby, with its forward-looking search radars and navigational systems, flew high and behind. Sitting beside Toby in Two, Lori scanned the sky with radar, searching for the floating
kaiju
.
Although both aircraft possessed advanced search radar, Raptor-Two's system was much more sophisticated. With it, Lori quickly located Varan in the darkening sky.
"I've got him," she reported. Then she radioed Varan's position to Pierce.
His face a mask of concentration, Pierce banked the huge twin-bladed aircraft and positioned it in the sky so that the Raptor was hovering between downtown Houston and the oncoming monster. If Varan wanted to destroy the city, it would have to get by Raptor-One first.
Pierce pointed the nose of his aircraft toward the oncoming monster, and as Varan drifted into sight, he turned over control to Kip.
"Go get him, Kip," Pierce said as he transferred command. Martin sat at the engineering console, waiting for Kip's first move. Behind Martin, at her command station, Tia monitored the navigational computer. With Lori's help, Tia knew their location at all times, and her computer was fed constant updates from geopositional satellites.
Kip, at the very front of the huge Raptor cockpit, gripped the control stick with sweating hands.
Varan had spotted them, though it seemed undaunted by the Raptor's presence. The creature floated toward them slowly, its eyes locked on the approaching aircraft.
Focusing his concentration on the target ahead, Kip peered through the heads-up display. The HUD showed the monster was still out of range of most of his weapons. Slowly, he pushed the joystick forward, edging the Raptor closer to the target.
Far below, thousands of people came out onto their lawns and looked up into the sky as news bulletins informed them of the battle about to be waged above their heads.
Suddenly, without warning, Varan shot forward, its claws outstretched. Kip twisted the stick. The Raptor dropped in a stomach-clenching plunge that brought a yelp from Martin.
Varan rushed over the Raptor, its tail slamming against the fuselage as it passed. The aircraft shuddered, and some warning lights on Martins control panel lit up, but it could have been much worse. If Kip had been even a half a second slower, Varan would have collided with them.
As the monster shot past, Kip could actually see the pupils of its reptilian eyes staring back at him.
"He's behind you, Kip!" Lori cried over his headphones.
Quickly, Kip turned the Raptor completely around on its axis and pointed the nose at the retreating monster. Pushing the joystick, Kip propelled the aircraft forward, right on Varan's tail.
Kip chose to lead the attack with the eight GAU-8/A Avenger cannons mounted on the fuselage of Raptor-One, four to each side. He keyed in the selection on his weapons menu.
Inside the bowels of the Raptor, hundreds of thousands of rounds of 30mm armor-piercing shells were fed into the guns automatically. When the cannons were armed, the HUD turned green.
Kip aimed the cross hairs of the targeting computer at the retreating monster and opened fire. Over 4,000 rounds per second blasted toward Varan from each of the eight cannons. Kip used a three-second burst - any more would slow down the Raptor's forward momentum and put them out of range.
The shells bounced off Varan's thickly armored flanks, but the attack got the creature's attention. With surprising maneuverability, Varan turned in midair and rushed back toward them.
This time, Kip opened up with the cannons right before he dived. In the darkening sky, the bullets glowed brightly. Kip, busy fighting the controls, could not tell if he inflicted any damage with his second attack. But at least Varan was heading away from the heavily populated Houston area.
"He's coming around, Kip!" Lori warned.
Again, Kip spun the Raptor like a top and pointed its nose at the monster. As Varan rushed toward the aircraft, Kip opened up with the cannons for a third time.
Varan bellowed as the shells pounded its neck, face, and head. The mighty roar was so loud it shook the Raptor. But instead of retreating, Kip faced down the creature and continued to pump shells into its body at a murderous rate.
Still, Varan came at them. Finally, like a game of chicken played by titans, Kip flinched. He dived the Raptor in another gut-wrenching descent as Varan again passed over their heads.
And once again, Kip turned the Raptor around and charged.
Martin whooped, and Tia's eyes never left her monitors. She noticed that they had lost altitude each time Varan attacked.
Kip was successfully leading Varan away from Houston, but they were getting dangerously low over the suburbs.
Because the 30mm shells had been ineffective, Kip quickly called up the menu and switched over to the rockets. The Raptor carried a soupcon of various missiles, all of them armor-piercing. Under the Raptor's wings, four rocket pods containing fifty projectiles each dropped out of their protective bays.