THE KREMLIN
MOSCOW, USSR
TWO DAYS LATER
What could have gone wrong?
Yuri Andropov sat in his darkened office, rolling a pen back and forth in his fingers. Godzilla had been well on his way to San Francisco, where thousands of troops, hundreds of planes and dozens of warships waited to engage him. A huge blow could have been dealt to the American military.
Then suddenly, Godzilla marched back to the Pacific.
Every attempt to contact the agents guiding the monster failed. Had they been killed? Worse, had they been captured? Did the Americans know everything?
The General Secretary was taking no chances. He ordered every scrap of paper with information regarding Operation: Death Knell burned. All those involved in the project, as well as their families, had been sent on one-way trips to the Siberian gulags.
Everyone but Andropov.
My time will come soon enough. You couldn't bury a failure if the person who initiated it still lived.
Andropov wondered how it would happen. Would they take him to a gulag and prolong his suffering? Maybe a bullet in the head in some dank basement at KGB Headquarters.
No. It won't be quick for me. He had promised Khrushchev a way to crush the Americans forever, and failed to make good on that promise. The General Secretary would make sure he suffered for that.
Muffled thuds passed through the door. Footsteps . . . approaching his office.
It's time.
Andropov fingered the fake cufflink on the left sleeve of his jacket. It opened, revealing a small capsule.
He drew a deep breath. His hand began to tremble. He didn't want to do this.
You're going to die anyway. At least do it on your terms.
Steeling himself, he popped the cyanide capsule in his mouth.
The door burst open. Two guards in green overcoats stood in the doorway, pistols aimed at Andropov.
"Party Secretariat Yuri . . ."
The guard was still talking as Andropov bit down on the capsule.
XXXXX
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
MAY, 1963
I can't believe I'm actually here.
Even as Lieutenant John McCain maintained his ramrod straight posture, his eyes darted all over the Oval Office. He studied every detail of the desk, the blue rug with the eagle logo under him, the high window and the trees and gardens outside. He burned it all into his memory. After all, when would a lowly lieutenant ever have another opportunity to be in this room?
Even more astounding than standing in the Oval Office was the man who stood in front of him.
"Lieutenant McCain . . ." President John F. Kennedy reached out to pin a medal to his chest. "For your heroic actions during the Godzilla attack, I hereby award you the Navy Cross."
"Thank you, Mister President."
Kennedy shot him his famous charming smile as he shook his hand. "I'm sure your father would be proud."
"That he would be." McCain suppressed a frown. He wished his father could be on hand to witness this. Unfortunately, this ceremony had to be conducted in secret.
Kennedy stepped back and took in all of them. General Stewart, with his new Air Force Cross. Colonel Moore, Captain Schwarzkopf and their small band of soldiers, all with their just awarded Distinguished Service Crosses.
"I don't think I can come up with any words to express just how deeply I appreciate everything you men have done for this country. Even though we suffered great damage and terrible loss of life during the Godzilla attack, had it not been for your courageous actions, a lot more people would be dead, and more of our cities would be in ruin."
"Thank you, Mister President," Stewart said. "But we were just doing our duty."
Kennedy nodded. "I'd say you went beyond the call of duty. It's just a shame the public can't be made aware of the role you played in protecting this country. But because of the circumstances involved . . ."
Inwardly, McCain frowned. He hated the fact they'd all been sworn to secrecy regarding the fake cops who had guided Godzilla up the California coast. The whole world should know what those damn Russian s. had done.
Okay, no one ever said specifically that it was the Russians, but who the hell else could it be?
But whether or not he agreed with the order didn't matter. He was an officer in the United States Navy. He was duty-bound to obey it.
He sighed softly and shifted his eyes back to the President, who currently joked with General Stewart about introducing him to Hollywood starlets.
With all due respect, Mister President, you have more important things to do than drool over Janet Leigh or Angie Dickenson.
Two months. Two months had passed since the Russians used Godzilla to lay waste to Southern California. And what had America's response been? Nothing. Hundreds of thousands dead, numerous cities burned to the ground, yet not so much as a single dilapidated shack in the middle of Siberia had been blown up in retaliation. Hell, the public didn't even know the truth. They just assumed Godzilla attacked California of his own accord.
Imagine their reaction if they knew the truth.
He can't let them get away with it. This was the President who stared down the Russians and made them blink during the Cuban Missile Crisis. How could Kennedy even consider letting the Russians off the hook with half of California in ruin?
If I were President, Russia would be glowing in the dark by now.
But he wasn't President. He had to forget about that pipe dream and have faith that the man who really held the office would strike back at the Commies.
McCain hoped his faith wasn't misplaced.
XXXXX
VLADIVOSTOK, USSR
JUNE, 1968
"Any word from the Orsha?"
"Negative, Comrade Captain."
A scowl marred the fleshy face of Captain Vitaly Timoleivu. It had been ten minutes since the little Riga-class patrol vessel radioed that they detected a large underwater object moving toward the naval base.
Since then, no one had heard a word from Orsha.
Timoleivu glanced out the bridge windows of the Plamenny. Two SO I patrol boats plied through the water on either side of his Kotlin-class destroyer. No doubt more ships were headed toward Orsha's last known position.
"Sonar!" Timoleivu turned his pudgy frame toward the gaunt-looking young man pressing a pair of headphones against his ears.
"I'm picking up some kind of . . . disturbance, Comrade Captain. It doesn't sound like a submarine."
"Then what could it . . ."
A fountain of water rose in the distance. Timoleivu stepped closer to the bridge window. "Well, whatever it is, it's dead." He grinned. "Looks like it hit one of our mines."
Seconds later another frothy eruption rose from the cold waters of the Pacific. Then another . . . and another.
Timoleivu's face contorted. Could a whole fleet of submarines be converging on Vladivostok?
Another mine went off.
"Sonar. Report."
The sonarman shook his head. "Those explosions have churned up the water so much I can't make out anything."
"Try harder! I have to know what's setting off tho-"
Another plume of water exploded in front of him. For a terrifying second Timoleivu thought a tidal wave suddenly appeared.
Plamenny reared back. Timoleivu's arms flailed in a desperate attempt to keep his balance. He failed, falling to the metal floor. A sharp pain seared his back. He grimaced and rolled to his side.
"Captain!" a panicked voice cried out.
"I'm fine! Concentrate on your duties!"
Timoleivu sneered as he pushed himself up. How undignified. The captain of a ship falling on the floor like a common drunk. What would his men think? How much respect had he lost?
He straightened his uniform and looked around the bridge. Every man stared out the window with wide eyes.
"What's wrong with you men? What the hell are you all gaping at?"
Timoleivu spun around . . . and gasped. His entire body trembled as he gazed at the gigantic reptilian shape before him.
Godzilla's roar shook the bridge. The windows shattered. Timoleivu turned away and threw up his arms as shards of glass pelted him. A dull hum filled his ears.
Despite it, he still heard a second thunderous roar from Godzilla.
Heart hammering, he peered out the broken window. The bitter cold air buffeted him as he watched a jet of blue flame shoot out Godzilla's mouth. The SO I to his right vanished in a fireball.
Timoleivu whimpered as Plamenny bobbed closer to the monster. He didn't even care how it looked to the rest of the crew. Many of them openly cried anyway.
A distant voice called to him from the back of his mind, telling him to turn the ship, to bring all guns to bear.
Terror froze him to inaction. All Captain Timoleivu could do was watch Godzilla draw back his arm, then drive it toward the ship.
A horrendous crash filled the world. Something very hard and very heavy struck Timoleivu.
XXXXX
"Looks like they're putting up a good fight."
Vince Tagliani turned to his beefy partner, Russell Byers. The two CIA operatives stood on a hill overlooking Vladivostok, gazing at the fireworks display of tracers and missiles zipping through the air. Godzilla waded through the harbor, practically ignoring the barrage. A jet of atomic fire washed over the Kynda-class cruiser Varyag. The ship exploded into nothingness. Godzilla then lifted an enormous foot and brought it down on the Kanin-class cruiser Uporny. The ship crumpled and vanished from sight.
Tagliani smiled. Five years. For five years they had planned and prepared for this day. It had been an audacious task set forth by an audacious President. Some in Project Vidar didn't think it could be done. It had been hard enough for the U.S. Navy salvage fleet to recover the paddywagon carrying what had been referred to as the Godzilla Guidance Device. Then the project scientists had to take the severely damaged GGD and reverse engineer it. They also had to make sure the signal mimicking bird calls didn't interfere with radio transmissions. That's what led to the Russians' failure when they launched Godzilla against the United States.
Tagliani smiled wide as Godzilla came ashore, crushing buildings under his feet. A blast of atomic fire set a huge portion of the Soviet Navy's Pacific Fleet Headquarters afire. Seconds later a gigantic fireball ascended into the sky. The very air around Tagliani trembled from the shockwave.
"Damn. He must have hit a fuel dump," noted Byers.
Tagliani continued to observe Godzilla stomp through the base, smashing buildings and breathing fire. Flames swept across the facility. Dark columns of smoke floated over the city.
"A shame JFK isn't around to see this."
"Yeah." Byers nodded. "But five years seems a long time to wait to retaliate."
"It's worth it if the Russians think this is just a natural act."
Godzilla lumbered through the flames that consumed the naval base. He made his way into the city, shooting one fiery breath after another. Buildings vanished beneath waves of fire.
"Good-bye Vladivostok," Byers chuckled.
Tagliani slapped his partner on the shoulder and headed back to the truck carrying the GGD. "Let's shake a leg, Russell. It's four thousand miles to Moscow."
THE END –
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The name "Vidar" comes from Norse Mythology. Vidar is the Norse god associated with vengeance, as he avenged his father, Odin's, death by killing the Wolf Fenrir during Ragnarok. If you liked this story, you'll enjoy my original alien invasion novel "Dark Wings," available in paperback from Amazon and as an e-book at smashwords-dot-com.
