Chapter 10: The Watershed
Admiral Ryan climbed down the steps into the archive to find Penwood waiting for him with a hot cup of coffee and pile of fresh files. Penwood seemed to perch up when he caught side of Marcus.
"Good morning Penwood." Marcus greeted him. "You seem a bit more ready for day two than I am."
"That's a affirmative sir." Penwood replied. "It's an interesting story and I like the way you tell it." Marcus only stood and stared the young clerk. He found it odd that he was so enthralled by the tale.
"I've been curious about something Penwood." Marcus began. "You seem surprised by the events as they are unfolding, surely you should have learned something about this before? How is it that this all seems new to you?"
"Well sir, I was home schooled." Penwood began to explain. "My mother was perhaps a little over protective and very religious. For obvious reasons, I don't think she wanted me know too much about what actually happened. Of course, I had friends growing up who would tell me things. But the stories of children don't give you the whole picture. In fact, only a small fraction of it thus far. So, in many respects, I'm hearing the truth of things for the first time."
"Ha, well I know a little something about overbearing mothers." Marcus laughed. "They always want to protect us from the world, but sometimes the best protection is getting out there and seeing things for what they are, growing to understand them. Ignorance is no defense. Fathers on the other hand know the value of throwing a child into the deep end of the pool and watching them learn how to swim themselves. Then again, maybe a little guidance from time to time isn't so bad...?" He smirked. "It takes all kinds."
"There are three types of people when faced with danger Penwood. There are those who run away at the first sign of trouble, those who freeze up not knowing what to do, and those who rise to meet it head on. I tend to admire those who choose to fight, but as a species as a whole you need each. Those who run away usually survive. Those who freeze get to see the outcome for those who fight and learn from it, good or bad. And if no one ever stood their ground, our race would have perished long ago. Anyhow, you aren't here to listen to a philosophy lesson, you are here for a story." Marcus changed gears. "Where did we leave off?"
"Here, I marked it." Penwood slid a file over to him, it was titled: 'The Battle of the Yellow Sea'.
"Oh yes." Marcus nodded. "The Japanese had just got their bells rung by the Rodans. To put it into a more realistic perspective for you, they lost five capitol ships, four heavy support ships, and several destroyers. Also a score of other ships that had taken heavy damage during the battle. Their losses in the air were even worse. About forty percent of the men and aircraft that participated in the skirmish were lost."
"Taken all together, Japanese losses would have cost billions upon billions of dollars if tallied in today's money." Marcus continued. "And this was on top of the ships they had lost earlier in the year fighting Angirus. It was truly staggering blow for any country. The Japanese would rebuild and they would remain a power, but their naval dominance in the Western Pacific was shattered that day. They were no longer an immediate threat to the Chinese, the colonial powers of the region, or us."
"Now you're probably wondering to yourself, if capitol ships are so costly to replace, why bother?" Marcus asked. "Well I'll tell you, having a strong navy makes you a player on the world stage. Big guns equal clout and prestige. It is true of most powerful nations today, and it was certainly true for the Japanese at that time. Just a few decades prior they were seen as a second, or even a third rate power, but then they defeated the Russian's Grand Fleet in the early 1900s and they continued to develop more powerful warships in the years that followed. That victory put them in the international spotlight and they wanted to remain in it. Navies are expensive, sure, but they are a projection of a nation's power away from home."
"With enough influence and trade you can take over the world." Marcus continued on. "The British are probably the best example of turning navy power into just power. They certainly never could have build the British Empire without their strong naval arm. I suppose in a sense, a navy is like a high stakes bet. The investment is big, but the reward can be even bigger. Anyhow I'm getting off track with my naval rant, back to the subject at hand..."
In the Yellow Sea, Akira was circling the carrier Akagi in his fighter. He was biding his time, waiting for his turn to land. His fuel gauge was inching its way closer to the red line, but he was calm. He knew exactly how far you could push a zero before it would give out. The sun was hiding behind a wall of clouds and the wind was picking up.
Even from a thousand feet above he could see the Japanese fleet had taken a beating. Ships were still burning and sinking in the sea below. Bodies of sailors were littered all over in the water, some living and some already beyond help. Their white uniforms stood out starkly against the dark waters. Vessels that were undamaged lowered down nets and were taking on the crews from other ships that weren't so lucky. Though there was an urgency to get the survivors out of the water, it seemed as though the action of the day was over. The Rodans had retreated northward out of radar range, which made the Japanese feel a bit more secure.
After ten more minutes of circling, Akira landed back on the Akagi. He taxied his fighter to the flight deck's elevator and was immediately brought down inside the main hanger to be inspected for battle damage. Once the plane was brought to a halt below Akira jumped down from his cockpit and surveyed his surroundings. The hanger deck could not have been any different from what it had been early in the day.
When they had left, the room had been full of the commotion of cocky pilots rearing for action. Now it was as quiet as a tomb. Despite being one of the last flyers to set back down, Akira still found the hanger with less than half the numbers than when they had set out. He could see one of the other pilots just sitting on the floor with their backs against the bulkhead staring down at nothing in particular. The rest appeared to be processing what had just happened.
It was a dismal scene. They had been decisively beaten, and point of fact, it hadn't even been a contest. They had been army of mice trying to assault a Lion's den. The truth of the matter was starting to set in. Bravado had been their pet in the outset, but only in the aftermath of the fight did they realize just how futile the effort had been. As the pilots stewed on this fact, tempers started to flare. Someone needed to be held accountable.
Akira could see one angry pilot shouting at one of flight officers, demanding answers. He wanted to know why all his friends had been throw away like trash. His superior, not having a good answer, simply replied that it was their duty to die for the Emperor at time and place of his choosing. The answer proved to be unsatisfactory to the incensed pilot. He had to be restrained by the few remaining men of his squadron.
Oddly, in the wake of this flagrant display of insubordination, the officer simply walked away, ignoring the pilot. Akira got the impression that the officer secretly sympathized with the pilot and that he wished to avoid arguing or punishing him. Suffice to say it was a bizarre scene to be found on the highly disciplined flagship of the Japanese Imperial Navy.
Following the outburst, Akira surveyed the other pilots and crewmen around him and concluded most of them felt the same. Though they all keep quite about it, they all seemed to recognize the had been sent out into the jaws of death by their commanders. It was bad enough that they had been defeated, but the disregard for their lives from high command was a harder pill to swallow.
A few hours later, the fleet was recalled to Japan to regroup and reassess the situation. In the meanwhile, the Japanese did their best to track the Rodans. The radar stations set up on the mainland occasionally had hits, indicating that they were still flying northward. However, the tracking stations lost the monsters as they retreated even further north our of range of the last station in Hokkaido.
Several hours later, a small flotilla of destroyers and other patrol craft were dispatched northward into the Okhotsk Sea in an effort to relocate them, but with no success.
In Germany, government forces had converged on Essenheim following Varan's attack on the village. Emergency workers did their best to clear the streets of debris and find survivors. Amongst them they found Reinhart crawling around blindly in the rubble, still feeling the effects of being exposed to a massive amount of tear gas.
The rescue workers brought Reinhart to a makeshift hospital and began to treat him. Fortunately, tear gas does not generally leave permanent damage to the eyes. They striped Reinhart down, washed his contaminated clothes, and flushed his eyes with cool fresh water. There was time when such a thing would have embarrassed him, but not anymore. Not after what he had been through. He started to feel the burning leave his face for the first time in hours.
Though the residue was finally gone, Reinhart's eyes and throat were still inflamed from the prolonged exposure. The relief workers gave him water to drink and put him in a cot to recover. As he had been awake for hours, wandering around in pain, he was quick to fall asleep.
Reinhart's reprieve was short lived though. A few hours later, he was awakened to serve a solemn duty. The bodies of the villagers killed in the attack had been lined up along what remained of Main Street. They needed to be identified before burial. The majority of the villagers were either dead or in worse shape than Reinhart, so it fell to him to identify his parents and brother.
As he walked out of the tent, with some assistance from a soldier, his eyes were overwhelmed by the light of the midday sun. From Reinhart's perspective he might as well have been standing on the surface of the Sun. Even with his eyes tightly closed, the light was too bright for him. He was forced to retreat back into the tent temporarily to let his eyes adjust.
Inside the tent, there was only a sliver of light coming in from the tent flaps, but even that took a minute to tolerate. Eventually Reinhart's eyes caught up and he was able to sit there with his eyes wide open. With that accomplished, he was ready to try his luck outside again. This time he wisely began with his eyes shut and stood there while they adjusted little by little. Soon after, he was able to peek out with no trouble.
Though his eyes still hurt, in particularly when a sudden gust of wind would hit them, a peek was all Reinhart needed to proceed forward. The soldier led him back into Essenheim's broken streets. It was a blessing for Reinhart that he was unable to get a good look at his once beautiful home. But the memories of the night before started to come back none the less.
Still, it didn't stop Reinhart. The pair pressed onward undeterred until they approached the line of bodies. Once within sight, Reinhart's knees got weak as they drew near. Reinhart hoped the soldier didn't notice, but he did. Their pace had slowed considerably, but still, the soldier respectfully ignored it, saying nothing.
Step by step, they came closer to the line of bodies. Through his impaired vision, Reinhart started to recognize people he had know his whole life. In a village such as Essenheim, everyone knew everyone. Each step he took brought him past another friend or acquaintance. He saw Hannah, Mila, and Elena, the girls that had made such an impression on his brother the night before, Sven, the owner of the local pub, Hannes, the friendly baker, and finally he came to his brother Heinrich and his parents.
Each of them were battered and bloodied, shadows of who they had been, but undoubtedly once his kin. For Reinhart to see them like that was painful in all senses of the word. They were unnatural, lifeless, like terrible life-sized puppets staring off into space. Reinhart stopped breathing, his chest felt heavy. His eyes somehow burnt even more than before and a stone formed in his stomach. He tried to keep his composure, but it was of little use. Tears streaked down his face as he boiled over.
Seeing that Reinhart was upset, the soldier bent down, closed their eyes, and asked just one question: If he was certain. Reinhart only nodded, not capable of forming words, then urged the soldier to take him back to the tent. He had seen enough. Without another word they departed.
In the Soviet Far East, above the peninsula of Kamchatka, a cargo plane was flying supplies to one of the remote military outposts located in the frontier.
"This is Sergi to outpost K, Sergi to outpost K. I'm about a half-hour out from touchdown." The pilot radioed to the outpost.
"Outpost K to Sergi, we read you loud and clear." A voice crackled back on the other end, Sergi recognized it.
"Oh Boris, it's nice to hear your voice." Sergi greeted him. "Do me a favor and make sure our comrades on air defense duty today are aware I'm coming. It would really spoil my day to get shot at."
"Can do, comrade." Boris replied. "I'm looking forward to seeing what you've brought us this time."
"How are conditions down there? Am I going to skid on the runway?" Sergi asked, having done so before at outpost K.
"Negative. I think the boys knew you were coming." Boris answered. "Everything was cleared away yesterday. The weather today has been nothing but sunshine down here. I assume it is similar up there?"
"No troubles so far." Sergi reported. "Good day to be in the sky."
"Good, fly safe and I will see you soon. Signing off." Boris cut out.
"Goodbye Boris." Sergi put down his mic.
The plane was called 'Lucky Old Olga'. Sergi Yukov was a retired officer from what used to be the Imperial Russian Air Services now rolled into the Soviet Air-force since the Czar was overthrown. Sergi was lucky enough to avoid any red tape since the change in government. It probably helped that he severed with distinction and never made any waves.
Since becoming a civilian, he had been able to negotiate a contract to bring supplies to the smaller outlier bases littered throughout the strategically located Kamchatka Peninsula. The Russians maintained a large military presence there as it served as their main naval base in the Pacific. It guarded their Far East interests.
The supplies Sergi brought in were mostly of the "non-essential" kind. Of course he brought in the standard fare that was on the books, but his plane was fairly large, so as a side business, he also brought in certain items that were "off the books". Certain types of restricted food, cigarettes, alcohol, and other various things along those lines. Items the powers back in Moscow would consider "contraband", but to the soldiers in the middle of nowhere, they were anything but. As such, the men at the remote bases would pay whatever was necessary to get their hands on it. Sergi was fair though, he wasn't going to die rich off of them, but he wouldn't be poor either.
Such an enterprise in a newly communist society carried some risks and security had been tightened since the Japanese expansion in the region. Given the two country's recent history, the Russians had every reason to be wary of the Japanese. The Japanese stunned the world by defeating them in the Russo-Japanese War. It might have happened a generation ago, but the Russians had not forgotten humiliating defeat adn the Japanese had become ever more aggressive in recent years.
With the tension so high, Sergei's supply drops had become that much more important for the moral of the common Russian soldiers. For all they knew, the Japanese could land on their shores at a moments notice, so any distraction was a welcome one. When they saw Old Olga approaching their landing strip soldiers on the ground would come running out with fists full of rubles.
Sergi loved to fly and Kamchatka was a beautiful place to do so. The large peninsula was dotted by a ring of fire. It was the one place in Russia with a volcanic belt, containing around one hundred and sixty volcanoes, twenty-nine of which were still active. Night or day, they were a sight to behold.
Of course, Sergei had sense enough to avoid the skies around active volcanoes when they were being "particularly" active. Still, he always found it sad that travel there was so restricted. To outsiders, and Russians alike, access was very limited. The government saw the territory as so strategically important that you had to have a special pass just to set foot there. Luckily for Sergi, he happened to have one.
The minutes went by like seconds as Sergi surveyed the breathtaking landscape. Before he knew it, he was just a couple miles out from his final approach to outpost K. Sergi had not made a trip out there in about six weeks due to ongoing inclement weather. He figured they must have been long out of his wares since last visit. He smiled to himself, expecting he'd be getting a hero's welcome upon arrival. He would be like Cesar getting a Triumph through the streets of Rome.
Sergi banked Olga through a patch of clouds and hit some unexpected turbulence. He could hear bottles of vodka rattling against each other in their case in the hold.
"Yesh, air is out here is rough today." Sergi tightened his grip on the controls and the plane steadied. 'Boris could have warned me about the cross wind.' He thought. The turbulence passed and he relaxed again. "Better go check the goods real quick."
Sergi flipped on the autopilot on his consul and quickly made his was back to the hold. As Lucky as Old Olga had always been for him, he didn't trust the autopilot so much. He was always worried it would suddenly stop working. He crouched down and inspected the vodka bottles closely. After a quick glance he didn't find anything out of place and decided to head back up.
As Sergi stood up, he thought he saw a flicker of a shadow out the plane's side window. He carefully crept up to the window and looked out. He saw only blue sky dotted with white clouds.
'I must have imagined it.' Sergi thought to himself, almost laughing. Then he saw something out the window and the thought of laughter became a distant memory. "B`lyad!" He shouted as he ran back to the controls of Old Olga and immediately put the plane into a hard dive.
The nose of the plane was nearly pointed directly at the ground. Sergi was pushing the plane into a eighty degree dive, which was hazardously steep. Bottles of vodka slipped from their casing and started to break against the wall. One of the bottles found its way all the way up to the cockpit.
Sergi ignored it all as he continued to dive hard. None of it would matter if he didn't escape. Just as he came within a thousand feet of the ground the force of something large passing over him fast sent Old Olga into a tailspin. The plane continued out of control downward towards the ground. Sergi fought with the controls and somehow manage to regain control of the plane around five hundred feet.
Near panicked, Sergei looked into the mirror he had installed just outside of his cockpit to see if he could locate his attacker behind him. To his surprise, he was able to see it. To his relief, it was above and behind him, moving off. He signed, comforted by his near escape. He had somehow managed to dodge it and it looked like whatever it was had given up.
'Maybe it just didn't like being that close to the ground?' Sergi thought. He only had a moment more to consider the thought. As he continued to watch it move away through his rear view mirror, he had not noticed a second monster coming straight at him from the front. Sergi had just enough time to shift his gaze forward to see it a second before it hit his plane. The Lucky Old Olga disintegrated into a thousand pieces and Sergi with it.
Below, Outpost K was burning and the Rodans were moving towards outpost J located further north.
Meanwhile in the Philippines, Marcus was finally released back into full active service. Before even being officially discharged from the hospital, he was ordered to report to Admiral Nimitz's office. Lieutenant-Commander Williams, the admiral's aide who seemed to have it in for Marcus, was waiting and approached him as he was signed out of care.
Williams escorted Marcus across the naval yard and to the temporary office at naval HQ the admiral was occupying. On the walk over the Lieutenant-Commander didn't say a word to Marcus. He simply kept a stern military frown and lead the way, expecting nothing from Marcus, but to follow his lead. At last, the Lieutenant-Commander brought him to an office door and knocked. Marcus could hear the admiral's voice coming from the other side urging them to enter.
Upon entering, Marcus found the admiral reading over the battle report the Japanese had just submitted from the Yellow Sea. He looked skeptically at their figures. The admiral had sources within Japan that indicated the losses submitted report had been grossly underestimated. They were downplaying their huge naval losses sustained in just one day of combat. One could hardly blame them though, cooperation or not, it would be downright foolish to disclose to a rival power just how wounded they actually were. The Japanese didn't want to look vulnerable. Despite their ruse, Admiral Nimitz knew better.
Deceptions aside, the report did contain three facts that were very relevant. First, the Japanese had failed to strike a meaningful blow. Second, there were in fact two Rodans, not just one as everyone had assumed. Third, both monsters had retreated north, out of Japanese or Chinese territory. What the Japanese navy did, or did not, lose were secondary in the face of the other facts.
"Ah, Petty Officer Ryan. Glad to see you back to active duty." Admiral Nimitz greeted as he noticed Marcus. "Sit down, sit down. I'm assuming you are not up to speed, so take a look at this." He handed him the report summary. Lieutenant-Commander William's lip curled slightly seeing the confidence the admiral was extending to Marcus.
Marcus meanwhile, was oblivious to the commander's contempt. As he read the report, his emotions jumped from shock of their being two Rodans, to awe, reading about the Japanese heroics during the battle, to horror, as he read out the causality reports at the bottom. What particularly got to him was the hand-written note the admiral had put in about what he guessed were the actual losses were. His estimate was staggering.
"I can see the weight of understanding on your face sailor." Admiral Nimitz noted.
"Well, the reports spell it out pretty clearly sir." Marcus admitted. "It didn't go well, worse than predicted in fact."
"Yes, to say it went poorly is an understatement." The Admiral looked grim. "Regrettably, I don't think our navy would have performed much better in the Imperial Navy's place. A lot of men and material were expended for no practical gain. It was a tactical and strategic loss. The only thing that came of it is now we know we're dealing with two dangerous opponents instead of just one. And I'm not sure what we can do about it. These creatures have every advantage over us. They have no obvious weaknesses and we can't so much as touch them in the sky. I've been in the navy for a long time and I can tell you one thing: the future is in the sky. Carriers and air power are making the strength of the surface fleet obsolete. But now these things come along and dominant the sky. They're so fast and powerful, no plane can keep up with them and no plane has the firepower to even scratch them. Have no answer for how to deal with them."
"Maybe the correct answer is not to engage them?" Marcus suggested. "Why play a game we know we can't win?"
"You are suggesting we just give up?" Lieutenant-Commander Williams sneered.
"With respect sir, I'm just saying why engage on their terms?" Marcus answered. "I think we have to wait. To beat an enemy, you have to understand them. We certainly do not understand them, not yet anyway. We don't know what they are or what they want. Once we do, we can formulate a more practical plan to deal with them."
"In the mean time you just want us to let them run free and wreck havoc?" Williams countered. "We can't allow them to do that."
"I think that would be better than doing what the Japanese tried." Marcus argued. "We need to watch and wait. Sometimes doing nothing is the hardest thing to do, but it's the right thing to do."
"Well, doing nothing isn't an option if these creatures threaten our interests." Admiral Nimitz cut in. "There will be political pressure back home to do something and hell to pay if we do nothing, although I see the merits of avoiding full scale assault at this time. Perhaps we should just focus on a defensive strategy until a better solution to our problem presents itself? Fighters don't seem to be getting the job done. Investing in heavier AA cannons would be the most prudent move for now. We simply have to prepare however we can and hope for the best." Nimitz declared.
Just then there was a quick secession of knocks on the admiral's door.
"Admiral, we're getting news about the Rodans!" An ensign shouted excitedly from outside. "You need to come see."
Admiral Nimitz dropped what he was doing exited his office. He followed the ensign to the radio room within Headquarters. Marcus and Lieutenant-Commander Williams were quick to follow as well. As they entered the radio room, they found the radio operators in an uproar. They were frantically trying to keep up with incoming messages. It was a storm of paper.
"It started about a hour ago sir" The ensign began to explain. "We intercepted just one signal at first, but now we are getting flooded by maydays from Russian outposts all over the Kamchatka Peninsula." The ensign motioned for the group's attention to be brought to a map he had of the area in question. "The first signal came from here in the south". He put a red pin in the map to mark it. "The first thing we found odd was despite originating from a military outpost, the message was not encrypted in any way. That is peculiar."
"I see, go on." The Admiral urged him.
"Well, I think they were in too much of a hurry to get the signal out to bother with that. As soon as I saw the message come across, I made it a top priority, but the message was still in Russian, so its taken us a while to translate it. In the meantime, we've received several other frantic, un-coded messages. The follow up messages have been easier to translate as they share certain words and phrases that are in common with the first. They point to one thing: these bases are under attack by the Rodans." The Ensign pulled out a quick copy of the message transcripts so the admiral could see for himself. Words such as: "large", "bird", and "attack", were common in each message. It wasn't difficult to see the pattern.
"What else can you tell me son?" Admiral Nimitz asked.
"Following shortly after the first attack, two others happened almost simultaneously in different locations, just little bit northward, here and here." The ensign put two more red pins into the map. "Then two others here and here." He placed two more pins. "And right now were are picking up a signal from yet another base here that appears to be under attack presently." The ensign put in one final pin. "All of this in the space of just over an hour!"
"They are hitting them so damn fast." The admiral noted, sounding troubled. "Williams, bring me the strategic map of that area from my office." He ordered
"Yes sir!" The Lieutenant-Commander disappeared to fetch it. A moment later he returned and outstretched the larger, more detailed, map on the table for everyone to see. Admiral Nimitz put the smaller map next to it and looked back and forth, noting the locations of known Russian military facilities on the strategic map and seeing one by one they were being hit by the Rodans.
"It looks like they are clearing them out one by one sir." Williams noted.
"Yes, but how are they locating them?" The Admiral asked. "The Rodans are fast, sure, but in the time it's taking them to fly from one location to the other, destroying the bases and moving on, it's like they have a map of their own to follow. It's reasonable to assume if the Rodans spent enough time flying around they would eventually be able to find and destroy all the bases, but the fact of the matter is they are knocking them off in no time at all. Am I the only person impressed by this? Once they are done with one site they make a B-line to the next one. It's like they already know exactly where the Russian bases are."
"Maybe they do?" Marcus suggested.
"How can they know that?" Williams asked, sounded bewildered and a little frightened. "They're just animals!"
"That is true, but a lot of animals can detect things that we can not." Marcus pointed out. "My science teacher used to say that birds can detect the magnetic poles when they migrate and bats use sonar in flight to detect things around them. Maybe the Rodans have their own way of detecting things while they fly?"
"So what are these things using?" Williams asked.
"Perhaps they can detect radar waves?" Marcus suggested. "Something has been bothering me since the attack on our fleet in the South China Sea. I was sitting with the radar operator when we detected the first Rodan. At first, the creature's course was almost random, as if it was just flying around aimlessly, but once it came within a certain range, it made a B-line for the fleet. It was over a hundred miles away at the time, so there's no way it could have seen us at that distance, no matter how good its eye sight is. So, it must have had another way of detecting us."
"I agree with that observation, but the Russians bases on the Kamchatka Peninsula don't have radar stations yet." Admiral Nimitz pointed out, shooting down that theory.
"What about radio waves then?" Marcus asked. "Maybe these things are able to sense radio signals? If they are, then all the bases out there are obviously transmitting at this point, in a panic. And doing so would pinpoint their positions for the monsters to track."
"That... is possible." The admiral admitted. "If it is true, that would explain a couple things, particularly how the Rodans having been picking their targets. Ships, planes, bases. All of them would have radio equipment."
"We could test that theory by alerting the Russians sir." Marcus suggested. If the bases that have not been touched so far were to stop transmitting..."
"I'm afraid I'm not authorized to share any information with the Russians at this time Marcus." Admiral Nimitz interjected "Certain politics prevent that. If it were the Japanese, that would be another story, but the Russians are not part of our pact of cooperation."
"Politics...?" Marcus was a little shocked."But peoples lives are at stake!"
"Do not question the Admiral, he knows more about the situation than you do." Lieutenant-Commander Williams snapped at Marcus.
Marcus wanted to belt Williams in the mouth at that moment, but knew the consequences of striking a superior officer. It would not end well for him if he did. Though he felt conflicted about it, he decided to keep his mouth shut. He could only stand there and continue to listen to panicked Russian voices pour though the radio's receiver.
As the day pressed on, more and more Russian bases came under attack. By the end of the day, every single outpost on the map had been wiped off of it. Whatever the Rodans had planned for the Kamchatka Peninsula, they didn't want to share it with any human company. The surviving Russian military personal and civilians began to evacuate the peninsula next day. Marcus felt terrible having done nothing to help them. It was possible his theory was incorrect. If it was or wasn't, it almost a certainty that the Russians would have lost control of the territory anyway, but if Marcus theory was correct, many Russian soldiers might have been spared in the initial attacks if they had been told to turn their radios off.
Sensing Marcus' conflict about it, Admiral Nimitz came to him privately inform him why they couldn't warn the Russians. The primary issue was that Joseph Stalin had in fact just ordered the Red Army to invade Finland a territorial dispute. The invasion was a thinly veiled land grab and it was condemned by the majority of the international community. Many nations, including the United States, Great Britain, and France were sending Finland aid in the form of weapons and other supplies. Given the political situation between the Western Powers and Russia, sending the Soviets as warning signal might be perceived as treason in some circles in Washington, even if it was the humane thing to do.
The war in Finland was young, but had already bogged down into a stalemate. The Fins were fighting like hell, despite being outnumbered ten to one by the invaders. Each day, more foreign volunteers were arriving from the neighboring Scandinavian countries, all of which didn't want to share a boarder with the Soviets should Finland fall.
There were plenty of outside influences working again the Russians, but perhaps the thing that was slowing them down the most was coming from within Russia. Stalin's purges to the Red Army had a profound effect on their war machine's performance. As it turns out, killing the majority of an army's leadership causes some problems to crop up. The disproportionately heavy casualties on the Russian side were a sign of it.
The Fins possessed powerful natural defensive positions and the area was experiencing heavy snowfalls, both of which made advances for the Russians nearly impossible. Even with all those advantages, the Fins were still in a precarious position. Admiral Nimitz explained how a threat on the opposite side of the Russian frontier might make Stalin scale back his invasion plans. It might even lead to an end of hostilities.
Marcus had a hard time arguing the point, but it didn't stop him from feeling guilty. The common Russian people had not chosen the war, and they did nothing to provoke the Rodans, still, it was they who would suffer on both accounts.
As the days passed, no aircraft or ship was safe from Eastern Russia to Northern islands of Japan.
The Russians had learned a little from the failed Japanese assault. Their fleet assets in the area were evacuated just as quickly as they could be made ready to sail. The Russian military did everything they could to avoid an open confrontation with the Rodans, but they still wanted their peninsula back. Instead of a fight, they instead focused on just trying to get Rodans to leave their territory by other means.
Having seen the limited success the Germans had using gas on Varan, the Russians decided to use a similar strategy, only on a larger scale with something more hazardous than tear gas. They elected to use mustard gas left over from World War I. It would be a war crime to use it in war against other men, but there was no such rule for monsters and they had a huge stockpile of it. The Soviets moved in hundreds of truckloads of the gas into the peninsula and began making preparations to use it.
Unfortunately for them, the Rodans attacked within hours of their force's arrival, possibly due to the use of radio equipment to coordinate their efforts. To their credit, the Russians were able to deploy large quantities of the gas rapidly and even managed to launch it towards the Rodans before the monsters were able to inflict much damage.
But from that point on, the plan went completely south. The gas had not even reached the Rodans before they used their massive wings to cause hurricane levels of winds to blow the gas back into the Russian lines. The Russians had been prepared for friendly fire, so they were wearing protective gear. However, the strength of the winds the Rodans were producing were powerful enough to tear the suits as well as blow the masks right off men's faces, leaving them vulnerable.
Meanwhile, trucks containing canisters were flipped over and gas came billowing out of them. Nearly the entire Russian force was caught up in the deadly cloud. Thousands of men died from the effects of the gas and almost as many survivors lived, afflicted by the painful, blistery effects of the gas. Sensing the danger, the Rodans left the area to avoid the gas themselves. With their departure, the few men who were fortunate enough to have avoided gas exposure gathered up the many, many, others more who were afflicted.
Hours later, those who could still be saved were loaded up in the trucks and the Russians retreated. By all accounts, the action was a horror show. Nearly all the survivors were blistered from exposure. The Russian's first attempt to retake their land failed miserably.
A day after the failed Russian attack, Marcus was called back to Admiral Nimitz's office.
"Marcus, I wanted to tell you that Washington has been in contact with the French Government." Admiral Nimitz began. "They have been quietly negotiating American access to the egg they found. The War Department has asked me to put together a research team to send over. I would like you to come along."
Marcus felt unsure and it showed.
"I won't order you to." Nimitz assured him. "Considering your recent experiences, I'd understand why you might not want to go. I know you've had... difficulties since our last trip out. Your role would officially be just as a member of my staff, but I've found your insights to these creatures invaluable so far. I feel you'd continue to be an asset to myself and our country."
Marcus continued to listen.
"We could learn a lot from studying that egg." The admiral went on. "The French are also concerned that the monster in Germany might hop over the boarder, if it were to reappear. At this point they can't seem to locate the darn thing. But I wanted you to know we are supposed to be there strictly as observers. We'll be staying far away from any action. We will only be there to gather intelligence."
"Aren't we just as useful here?" Marcus asked.
"If you mean the Rodans, well they are no longer our priority." The admiral answered. "They are a Russian problem now. Washington says as long as they are not threatening anything within our sphere of influence, we are to do nothing. Now, they may still present a problem for the Japanese on occasion, but we're more than happy to see them distracted as well. They can keep their war machine focused on something that is not us or our allies."
"Then I will do my part sir." Marcus saluted.
"I can tell by looking at you that you are still afraid." The admiral noted. "Don't be ashamed by that son, it's ok to be afraid. The trick is to contain your fear. Given some time, I see you doing great things in the Navy. I'll tell you something that has been useful to me: A good commander learns from his fear. It makes you more careful, less likely to waste lives needlessly. A man who can master his fear is a man to be feared, because he can do anything."
"Yes sir." Marcus found some wisdom in the admiral's words. He still felt reluctant, but the mission seemed safe enough, and no man would be able to call him a coward.
In Germany, a week had passed since the attack on Essenheim. Reinhart had fully recovered from his exposure to the gas, but had not recovered from the loss of his brother and parents. They had buried them a few days ago and he'd been living in a fog ever since.
The search for their killer was ongoing. The fact that the monster was still out there and could strike again somewhere else at any time weighed heavily on Reinhart. He mostly just spent his time sitting in his family's house watching the lake from where the creature had come. It was ironic, because he hated being there, but had nowhere else to go.
The German authorities had been searching the countryside for days with nothing to show for it. Finally, it occurred to them that the monster might have just retreated back into one of the various lakes in the region. The heavy rainfall over the last couple of prevented them from being certain either way.
Overcast skies made it hard for search planes to adequately scout and made finding a trail equally difficult for teams on the ground. Foot soldiers would find trees down here and there, but the rains that had come through had been accompanied by strong winds as well. Identifying what was potentially the monster doing versus what was due to mother nature was tricky business.
Fortunately for the search teams, the sun finally prevailed on the fourth day. Clear skies meant German planes could get out in force and cover a great deal of ground quickly. After spending two days patrolling the countryside, they had managed to methodically cover almost every corner of the Reich.
The planes came up empty too. Having found nothing, it lead those in charge to believe the creature had indeed retreated back into one of the lakes. The trouble was they had a lot of places to search.
Before completely disappearing, it was clear that the monster had been all over the area. The area in question had twenty major lakes that were large enough for it to hide in. With all the rainfall it was impossible to guess which one was more likely. Each of them had considerably higher water levels than normal. Since the rain had not been distributed evenly, saying it was in one lake over another due to the water level being higher wouldn't necessary prove anything.
Such as it was, their only recourse was to search each of them individually. To help speed things up, special sonar equipment was brought in to search the lakes. It took a few extra days to gather them up and fly them in, but it was worth the effort. Otherwise they would only have divers to rely on, which despite their best efforts, could only do so much good. Visibility in most of the lakes wasn't too good. Still, the divers were brave men. If they were lucky they wouldn't find anything down there.
Searching each of the lakes was taking a considerable amount of time. When they finally came to search Lake Hessengart, Reinhart elected to join in their efforts. He was happy to have something to do. It gave him a welcome distraction from just sitting at home and stewing on his grief.
As it just so happened, one of Heinrich's good friends from the Wehrmacht's intelligence branch came to his funeral. Reinhart approached him and found out he was helping to coordinate the search for Varan. Reinhart asked the intelligence office, named Fritz, and he agreed to give him special permission to pitch in.
By this point, it had taken nearly two weeks hopping from lake to lake, clearing them one by one. In the end, they were back at Hessengart. Reinhart knew in his heart of hearts the search would end where it all began. He spent all day helping them move equipment and watching the water. He even let the military use his family's house as a base of operations.
As day turned into night, Reinhart was shocked as they announced that Hessengart too had come up clean. He thought it must have been some type of mistake. The creature couldn't have been anywhere else, they had already searched everywhere else. To humor Reinhart, they did the sonar sweep twice, but there was nothing.
Reinhart was not alone in his frustration. The military had spent two weeks searching, clearing lake after lake, and in the end they didn't locate Varan. The authorities were puzzled to say the least. They had been banking on Hessengart being the most likely place they would find him as it was his place of origin.
As they had been searching, ruling out other places, they had been moving in tank divisions from the north nearby in anticipation of the monster reappearing from there. Given that they had no idea where the monster was, their plan was out the window.
Marcus boarded the flight with Admiral Nimitz that would to take them the majority of the way to France. The Journey was long enough to where it was actually going to be several flights and a short ride on a ship for the final leg.
Marcus was still uncomfortable flying, but he had a much easier time with his second takeoff knowing what he was in store for. The first time around he avoided even looking out the window as it gave him anxiety and made him feel a little dizzy. On his second flight out from China he was too out of it to be bothered by anything. This time though he was actually starting to enjoy himself a little.
Instead of being afraid of the takeoff, he got a little thrill out of it. And while in route to their first stop he looked out the window with only minimal trepidation. It was so different to see the clouds from that vantage point and not just looking up at them from the ground.
Back in Germany, Fritz and Reinhart were in his family's house looking over a map of the area. They were searching for an answer that was escaping them, reviewing the order in which the searches had taken place. One by one they crossed out each lake as they went.
"I don't see any gaps in the search." Fritz noted. "I've checked an double checked. We didn't miss anything."
"Is it possible that the creature could have "lake-jumped" from one you had not investigated yet to one you already cleared?" Reinhart asked.
"I suppose, but I don't see how." Fritz replied. "As a precaution we left some troops stationed at every site after we moved on to other locations. There have also been reconnaissance flights over the entire area the entire time. I don't see how something that big could have avoided detection from both."
"There must be something we're missing." Reinhart sighed. "Some detail that would explain the monster's disappearing act." He sat staring off into space trying to think.
"Don't get too discouraged Reinhart." Fritz put his hand on his shoulder. "Your brother was good at his job because he never gave up once he set his mind on something. He once told me you were smarter than he was, prove him right."
Reinhart smiled, but continued to stare off until his eyes came across his father's old bookcase. He saw a particular title wedged in the middle that caught his eye. It was titled: 'The Watershed'. Reinhart got up and picked up the book, then thumbed through it. He stopped on a page where something caught his eye and read for a moment.
"Oh no..." Reinhart whispered to himself. "Oh no." He said a little louder.
"What?" Fritz took notice, seeing that Reinhart's demeanor had shifted.
"Well, this book talks about the topographical features of this area." Reinhart began. "I just read a section that talks about the aquifer that runs throughout this entire area. In particular, there is a large underwater channel that run directly from lake Hessengart to Lake Muritz." Reinhart looked at Fritz knowingly.
"Is that true?" Fritz said, sounding a little alarmed.
"Look here, there's even a picture." Reinhart offered, putting the book down so Fritz could see for himself. The picture in question was an artist's interpretation. It highlighted the various layers of soil and showed how the flow of the underground channel connected the two bodies of water.
"I think we have a serious problem." Fritz grabbed his bag ran outside to the troops who had the portable radio.
At the same time in a restaurant on the shores of Lake Muritz a couple was sitting down to a nice meal. They had just put in their order and were passing the time waiting for their food by talking and enjoying the nice view of the lake out the window.
It was a perfect day. The couple had taken a leisurely stroll around the eastern bank of the lake. They were aware of the danger of the monster being in the area, but Lake Muritz had already been cleared several days ago and the 'muted' danger was exciting for them. It certainly hadn't stopped other people from venturing out. It felt like a lot of people were there hoping for a peek, from a safe distance of course.
The two love birds were staring into each others eyes when a large wave crashed into the window from the lake. The patio furniture that had been outside was all over the place and the large window overlooking the lake resembled a waterfall from all the water streaking down it. Amongst the cascade of water a form started to take shape. As the water cleared they had a better look at was outside the window and they realized too late that coming to the lake today was a very bad idea.