Doctor Yuma arrived at the Hiroshima Defense Science Center shortly before the sailors and was greeted at the door by Lieutenant Colonel Hirano. "Doctor Yuma! Good to see you again."

"You, too! It's been a while.

"Indeed. Doctor, prior to calling you, I spoke on the phone with the US Consulate in Nagoya. They're sending a representative to interview the men about what they saw. The Adonas are technically under American jurisdiction, so they're treating this as a matter of US defense intelligence."

"I see. So I can't question the men at all?"

"At least not until the Consul gets here."

Yuma gave a disappointed shrug. "Very well. I'll examine them as well as I can without questions."

Once the sailors arrived, Yuma oversaw the examination process with the help of the research center's staff, conducting multiple physical tests to ensure that the men were healthy. They paid special attention to the helmsman with inexplicable frostbite on his torso and arms, but did not question him. The men all had measurable amounts of radiation in their clothes, enough that Yuma estimated, based on rate of decay, that the levels would have been lethal three days prior.

The examination took several hours. Just as they were wrapping up, there came a knock on the laboratory door. Yuma answered it and was surprised by a familiar face, albeit one he had not seen in years.

"Lieutenant Clarke?"

The man greeted him with a smile. "That's Major Clarke, now! What's up, Doc?"

"Wow!" Yuma stepped outside, shutting the door behind him, and shook the man's hand. "A Major now, eh?"

"Yes, sir! And I hear you've done pretty well for yourself, too."

"Eh!" Yuma shrugged. "Being a world famous scientists ain't all it's cracked up to be."

"At least it hasn't cost you your sense of humor."

"So, what brings you here? Growing a third eye under that hat?"

With a chuckle, Major Clarke removed his hat to reveal that his head underneath had significantly less hair than when they had last met but was otherwise normal. "Actually, I'm working defense intelligence now, and I've come to interview your new patients."

"Oh? Are you the representative from the Consulate?"

"That's correct."

"Of course! Come right in!" Yuma opened the door, but Clarke put a hand on his shoulder.

"In private, please."

Yuma was irritated that he still could not talk to the sailors about their experiences. "What's the big deal, anyway?"

"Corporal Yuma…excuse me, Doctor Yuma. In light of the sensitive subject at hand, the UN is concerned about letting any unverified information get out. We're launching a thorough investigation, and for now, I'm afraid I have to take over from you."

Yuma sighed. "Fine. The men are all in here. Should I ask the rest of the staff to clear out?"

"That would be most appreciated."

Clarke spent over an hour with the sailors while Yuma sat waiting in his old office. It had been a while since he worked at the Defense Science Center; he quit rather abruptly after the Gargantua incident and did not bother to clear out all of his belongings, so he was surprised to see that most of it was still there, seemingly untouched. For example, on his desk sat a framed picture of Keiko from nearly two years prior. She looked nowhere near as emaciated as she was now. Yuma thought back to his decision to destroy his old research. He had never fully convinced himself that it had been the right move, and now he would never know if he could have used it to save Keiko's life.

After nearly an hour, Clarke emerged and came into the office. Yuma snapped back to the present and stood up. "Well?" he asked Clarke.

"Well what?"

"You just gonna leave me in the dark?"

The Major cleared his throat and spoke in a hushed voice. "I technically can't share any details with you right now, but I can tell you this much: the UN is already putting together an expedition to the Adona Islands, with experts in multiple fields, and your name is on the list."

"Me?"

"They need to examine the effects of radiation on the ecosystem, and you're just the man for the job."

"But I have patients here to care for!"

"And if you join the expedition, you might be able to save them."

Yuma was taken aback. "What? How do you mean?"

"Those men found something that kept them alive in a contaminated environment, and if their story is true, it could make radiation sickness a thing of the past. Tell me you don't find that enticing!"

Yuma was unsure of what to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Keiko's picture again. After a few seconds' thought, he nodded in agreement.

Honda obsessively followed the news in hopes of hearing more about the Daini-Gen'you-Maru incident, but there was little to see. Without anything solid to report, the media was scooping up rumors and dumping them just as quickly. It was being said that the crew had declined to share their experiences with the press, but she suspected that the government was trying to keep everything under wraps; those men saw something they were not supposed to.

On the second night after the initial news broke, her strange dreams returned in more detail. The luminous cross now appeared to be engraved into a golden coin. The mushroom cloud was rising over the sea. The craggy beach was back, and she could see her hands in front of her on the ground, as though she were crawling across the rocks. The object rising from the soil became partially visible; it was round, but she could not tell what it was. There were also three new visions. In the first, something flew over her head, but she could only see its shadow. In the second, a group of colorful, human-like shapes danced to a drum beat she could not quite make out. In the last, she saw a grounded ship, though what kind of ship she could not tell.

She awoke feeling irritated that the increasing clarity of her visions only brought more questions. She lay in bed for several hours, contemplating what she had seen, but she did not feel any closer to the truth. No sooner had she decided to give up and go about her day than the phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered nervously.

"Doctor Honda? It's Omori."

"Oh! Hello, General. Can I help you?"

"Perhaps. Have you been following the news about the Adona Island survivors?"

Honda's excitement grew, though she tried to play it cool. "Yes. What about it?"

"The UN is launching an expedition to the islands, and they want you to come along."

She took a breath and answered calmly. "I'm in."

"Are you sure? I agreed to call you on their behalf, but I wasn't sure how much better or worse you might have gotten. Do think you're well enough to go?"

"General, even if I was the most depressed and miserable person in the world, I wouldn't miss this for anything!"

"Understandable. There's more."

"Yes?"

"They want you to bring the big guy."

Honda grinned. "I'm sure he'd be thrilled to join us."

Honda spent the next few days getting ready for the expedition. Her work had taken her to dangerous and exotic places before, but these were different circumstances. She took brief trips out of the house while attempting to train her mind to quiet down instead of inundating her with information from her surroundings. This was easier said than done. Before, her telepathy was something she had to concentrate to use; now it was like a sixth sense that she could not turn off.

She found that the best approach was to focus on the task at hand. When she walked down the street, she kept her mind on the rhythm of her footsteps and regarded her fellow pedestrians as mere obstacles to be avoided. It made her feel cold and aloof, and she could only imagine that her deliberate gait and steadfast gaze made her look extremely cross to passersby; nevertheless, it helped her detach just enough that the thoughts of others around her, though still flowing to her as if spoken aloud, were more of a mumbling chorus than the cacophony she had experienced before.

Controlling her telekinetic surges during sleep proved to be a greater challenge. During the day, she meditated and practiced exerting control over her surroundings, attempting to mentally feel every surface and object in the house at once. This seemed to help; she would still wake occasionally from intense dreams to find the bedroom shaking, but there were no more nights of clearing fallen belongings from the floor.

When the day came, Honda was ready. A police car arrived at her house early in the morning. Not knowing how long the trip would be, but with the expectancy that she would either be able to wash her clothes aboard the ship or spend most of her time ashore in a radiation suit, she had packed a week's worth of clothing; this filled one suitcase, her scientific tools another, and both took up half of the back seat.

The car ride was uneventful; the cops in the front were silent, there was no radio, and there was no activity with which Honda could busy herself with on the way. Instead, she poured over what she could remember from her dreams, for the visions continued to grow stronger and stranger. She could still only see the shadow of whatever was flying over, but she could sense that it was something alive. The mushroom cloud grew over the sea, sending out lightning bolts. The round object emerging from the soil was mostly visible; it was white with multicolored sparkles like an opal. She saw the dancing figures and could just barely hear that they were chanting something, though what she could not deduce. The wrecked ship was slightly clearer, although the name was partially obscured by caked on mud. The meaning of it all still alluded her, but Honda managed to keep her mind occupied for the length of the car ride to the Port of Tokyo.

When they arrived, she saw the ship that would take them on the expedition, the USS Orion. It was a battleship armed with newly-designed plasma cannons, a leftover from the now-defunct Project M branch of UNMCC research. Such heavy armaments clearly indicated that Project G's assistance was not merely a precaution; the UN was fully expecting them to be in grave danger. Always a fun prospect, Honda mused.

Around the Orion was a throng of shouting people. That they were shouting was all Honda knew for sure; weather they cheered or jeered, she could not tell. "What's going on?" she asked.

The cop in the front passenger seat answered her. "Some of them have come to bid bon voyage and show their support for the expedition."

"Ooh, that's nice!" said Honda, adding nervously, "And the others?"

"Protestors. They think the UN is trying to bury the truth or wants to exploit the land."

"Oh. Ohhh…" Honda could feel her heart rate increasing. She worried that with so many intense and conflicting emotions being spouted by so many people, she might not be able to shut it all out. She had suffered anxiety attacks from telepathic overload before, and she was terrified of having one here. When the car stopped, Honda closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Concentrate, she told herself. She exhaled, opened her eyes, and opened the car door.

Honda instantly regretted being there. The psychic stimulus was overpowering! It was unlike walking down the street amidst people lost in their own thoughts. There was rapture and there was rage, all of it directed at her as she stepped out of the car. For a moment, Honda was certain that she would faint. She held the door tightly, steadying herself against it as she tried to regain control.

Focus on the task, she thought.

One of the cops extended a hand to help her, but she shook her head and stepped forward. There was a roped-off path leading to the Orion's boarding steps. With one cop to either side, she walked through the path.

The supporters and protestors were not segregated but all cramming against one another to get closest to the ropes, many holding signs and props, all shouting. Honda's temples throbbed torturously and she started to lose her balance again. The sea of faces and roar of voices would have been enough to make her anxious even if the psychic surge had not been inescapable. It was like she was trying to walk inside a big metal barn during a hailstorm.

Remember the goal.

Honda tried to remind herself of why she was going on this journey. Not for the government. Not for the military. Not for science. For herself. She needed to know the truth. But, she remembered, that was her own reason; it was not the reason she had been sent for. What if she was not able to solve her mystery when others with different priorities were watching her every move? What if she found the answers but blew her cover? Would she be like Sanda or Gaira, another living project for the military to experiment on?

Before she knew it, her mind had wandered. Her defenses dropped and everything came pouring in. She felt it all, but especially the contempt, which turned to derision as the protesters saw her unease. It was too much. She staggered. She panicked. She fell. She blacked out.

"Kumi! Kumi, wake up!'

Honda's eyes snapped open as she sucked in air like her lungs had been pinched closed.

"Kumi!" shouted Yuma, seated next to her. "I think we're in trouble!"

They were in what appeared to be a cabin of the Orion. The cabin was shaking as though the ship would fall to pieces! Realizing her telekinesis was out of control again, Honda quickly calmed herself down. The motion subsided, but still Yuma looked around worriedly. She was lying on a small, uncomfortable bed, while he sat in a chair by her side.

"What happened?" asked Honda, feigning ignorance.

"I don't know! I thought the ship was going to explode or something!"

"No, I mean, how did I get here? One moment I was on the boarding steps, and then…"

"You passed out. It was weird; a bunch of people on the dock passed out, too."

Honda's heart sank. When she passed out, she was not just receiving psychic signals. She was sending them out, too. "Oh, no! Was anyone seriously hurt?"

"I don't think so. We waited around and watched, but the medical team got everyone up and hydrated again."

"Did they say anything?"

"Who? The medical team?"

"No, the people who fainted."

"Uh…like what?"

Honda wanted to know if there had been any psychic transference. She might have already exposed herself by accident. But, of course, she could not ask that out loud. "I don't know, like…if they saw or felt something funny."

"Not that I heard. Everybody was just dizzy and overheated."

Honda could hardly relax without a sure answer. Now that she knew that her telepathy could be dangerous if unchecked, she would have to be even more cautious with her powers in the future.

Yuma tried to break the awkward silence. "Looks like we get to spend some time together after all!"

Honda chuckled weakly. "Wasn't quite what we had in mind, but it rarely is."

"Ain't that the truth," said Yuma, reaching for a canteen. "Here! Drink some water."

"Thanks," said Honda, taking a deep swig.

The cabin door had swung open from the vibrations. A seaman came walking by but paused in the doorway, looking confused. "Are you two okay?"

"We'll be fine," said Yuma. "What the hell was all that shaking just now?"

"Shaking?"

"This whole cabin was shaking! What, did nobody else feel it?"

The seaman stuck his head in and looked around before backing out with a shrug. "I'll get someone to take a look at it later. But first, I was told to let you know that we'll be leaving soon, and to fetch Doctor Honda."

"He's here!" said Honda, jumping to her feet, dropping the empty canteen. A second later, she was out the door, leaving Yuma behind, shaking his head in bewilderment at her rapid change in mood.

Honda ran to the Orion's top deck and saw a familiar aircraft approaching. It was the Shirasagi, the fastest plane in the world, developed for use by Project G. The plane did not land but circled the ship for a few moments. Honda could see the pilot, Takashima, waving to her, and waved back. She then skipped over to the rails and looked out across the ocean. She could see the water churning and sloshing in the distance, a faint blue glow emanating from under the surface. Godzilla had come!

Having completed his task of leading Godzilla to the port, Takashima turned his aircraft around and sped back toward Iwato Island in the south. When at last Godzilla was within a kilometer of the Orion, he raised his fierce visage and then his mighty torso from the water, letting out a roar that could deafen the gods. He then looked down at the battleship below and locked eyes with Honda.

My old friend, he said to her telepathically, it is good to see you up and well again.

"And the same to you," replied Honda. "Ready for an adventure?"

Always.

"Don't suppose you'd like to tell me what we're going to see?"

I don't even know where we're going! Your friends in the flying machine just led me here.

"To the place you came from, of course! The Adonas!"

Godzilla cocked his head to one side.

"Well?"

I cannot explain it all. The Wise Ones will have the answers you seek.

"Are you sure you can't tell me who they are?"

They are the Wise Ones. That's all I know.

Honda rolled her eyes, but not angrily. She decided that she would just have to wait and see.

Until then, said Godzilla, stay close and stay safe. There are many other big and scary things on those islands.

"Bigger and scarier than you?"

Godzilla reared back his head and made several short, throaty grunts; it was his version of a laugh.

"I thought not!" said Honda, laughing the human way.

Godzilla dipped back under the water and swam side by side with the Orion as it fired up its engines and headed east. The voyage had begun!