Godzilla dodged to the right just as the four hypersonic claws shrieked past him. Titanosaurus raised his left hand, ready to fire four more claws.
Maw open, Godzilla thrust his head forward. A jet of blue flame struck Titanosaurus' left arm. Flesh burned away or melted. Titanosaurus bellowed in agony and stomped in circles. His left arm dangled uselessly at his side, a gnarled, smoldering stump.
Godzilla roared and charged. He rammed a shoulder into Titanosaurus. The monster fell and smashed through Eastex Freeway. Dozens of cars were crushed, along with several few people who stayed to take pictures or shoot videos of the battling monsters instead of fleeing with the smarter folk.
Titanosaurus rolled from side to side, trying to get up. Godzilla rushed forward and kicked him. Titanosaurus flew through the air, smashing through several high rises before crashing to the ground. He grunted and started to sit up. Godzilla snatched a large chunk from a shattered building and hurled it. The debris exploded against Titanosaurus' head.
Godzilla grabbed another piece of rubble and flung it. This time Titanosaurus batted it away. The rubble smashed through a nearby high rise. The top half of the structure crumbled and rained debris on the streets below.
Titanosaurus got to his feet and roared. Godzilla roared back and advanced. Titanosaurus kicked up a storm of debris. Godzilla swatted at it. One piece struck his eye. He turned away and pawed at his face.
Titanosaurus put his head down and rushed forward. He slammed into Godzilla's chest and knocked him down.
XXXXX
Ruffin frowned as he looked at the mirror. The reflection from around the corner showed a corridor blocked with overturned desks and cabinets. Up to a dozen Venezuelan marines crouched behind them, one of them manning an FN MINIMI light machine gun. Behind them was a thick metal door.
He pocketed the mirror and turned to Best. "Looks like Gorilla Face was right. The control room's heavily guarded." He told the ex-British paratrooper about what he found.
"We'll have to overwhelm them with grenades," said Best.
"Even if we do, that door behind them looks pretty thick. We might not be able to get through it with C4."
"And who's to say there's not another door behind that. I'd wager those aliens have got layer upon layer of security around that room."
Ruffin groaned. Best was probably right. He stared past the Brit to the squad of men guarding the entrance to the Fifth Floor. They had managed to force the Venezuelans in the stairwell to retreat, at the cost of one Shield International member and one Trinidadian. He doubted it would be long before the marines regrouped and came after them again. And if Lieutenant McGlothen's platoon and the Trinidadians couldn't hold off the marines from Puerto Cabello, they were screwed.
So was the rest of the world.
"I don't see where we have a choice," said Fetisov. "We must go through them."
Ruffin stared at him in silence. That course of action would be suicide. But did they have a choice? They had to get into that control room, and the clock was ticking.
He looked up at the ceiling, trying to plan his assault.
That's when the idea hit him.
"You're wrong, Fets."
"How so?"
Ruffin pointed to the ceiling. "We don't have to go through them."
XXXXX
Major Cichero had no idea how many invaders he killed in his strafing run. Probably none. It wasn't like he had the best guidance from the marines on the ground.
He shrugged it off. Four F-5s were inbound to Puerto Cabello. They had weapons better suited for ground attack. Even the two F-16s a couple of minutes behind him carried rocket pods, which would surely kill many more invaders than his brief strafing run.
His SU-30, along with the three others in his flight, had been configured more for the air superiority role. Though each jet did carry a pair of Russian-made Kh-25 air-to-surface missiles.
And he saw the perfect target for them.
"Scarlet Flight. Enemy warship, my one o'clock, ten miles out. Engage."
The three other SU-30 pilots acknowledged the order and formed up on Cichero.
"Rincon," he said to his backseater. "Ready Kh-25s."
"Kh-25s ready. I have good . . . we're being illuminated. I-band radar."
Cichero's headphones burst to life with the voices from the other pilots of Scarlet Flight. All reported the same thing. They, too, were lit up by a fire control radar.
A flicker of orange stood out against the darkened sea. Three more soon followed.
"SAMs! SAMs! SAMs!" hollered Rincon.
"Evasive maneuvers!" Cichero slammed the control stick left. He tightened his stomach and grunted as the g-forces pressed down on his body.
"Deploying countermeasures!"
He hit the chaff button. Bundles of aluminum strips shot out from his SU-30 and fluttered through the night sky.
"SAM at two o'clock!"
Cichero banked right, into the missile's envelope. He ejected more chaff, then jammed the stick left. He strained turning his head, which felt like a boulder. A flash of orange streaked above the canopy.
"Miss!" Rincon grunted.
Cichero leveled out and looked around. Two artificial comets spiraled toward the water.
"Scarlet Flight, report."
"Scarlet Three, here."
No replies came from Scarlet Two or Scarlet Four. Cichero closed his eyes, the faces of their pilots and backseaters floating through his mind.
He dismissed them. He had a ship to destroy.
"Scarlet Three, re-engage enemy ship."
"Roger."
Cichero swung around his SU-30 and lined up for another shot.
That's when electronic fuzz blotted out his radar.
"We're being jammed," said Rincon. "It looks like an APECS II system. I'm burning through it."
Cichero turned away from the ship, dumping more chaff, banking every few seconds, trying to make himself the most difficult target possible.
"Jamming countered," Rincon announced. "Likely ID on the ship. Possible Karel Doorman-class frigate."
Major Cichero called up what he knew about that type of ship. Built in the Netherlands, used also by Chile, Belgium and Portugal. Could one of those countries be attacking Venezuela?
It doesn't matter who is attacking us. I will kill them.
He circled around just as Scarlet Three launched its Kh-25s. The fiery contrails streaked over the water toward the frigate.
"I have a lock with both missiles," Rincon reported.
"Wait." Cichero watched Scarlet Three's missiles approach the frigate. Less than two kilometers and closing.
"Missiles away!" Cichero hit the fire button. The SU-30 rose several feet as both 660-pound missiles fell from their hardpoints. The rocket motors kicked in. Cichero turned away so as not to be blinded by the bright exhaust.
Tracers from the frigate streaked over the water. It had to be from the ship's close-in weapons system. Scarlet Three's missiles exploded a kilometer from their target.
Rincon picked up more jamming as the remaining Kh-25s neared the frigate. Cichero tensed as the space between the ship and the contrails lessened. Would the CWIS have time to readjust and shoot down his missiles?
One of the Kh-25s veered off, a victim of the enemy countermeasures.
The last missile crashed into the ship's bow. A huge fireball rose from the deck, right where the deck gun ought to be.
XXXXX
Still on his back, Godzilla unleashed a jet of atomic fire. It struck Titanosaurus in the side, driving him back. Godzilla rose and swung his tail around. It slammed into Titanosaurus, knocking him into a high rise. Debris collapsed around the monster as he fell to the ground.
Godzilla stormed through the rubble of downtown Houston and brought his foot down on Titanosaurus. He tried to stomp on him a second time, but Titanosaurus rolled out of the way. A quake ripped through the ground. Damaged buildings crumbled around them. Titanosaurus got to his feet and swung his right arm. Claws tore through Godzilla's shoulder. He bellowed as blood flowed like rivers down his torso. Titanosaurus roared and slashed him again. Again. Bloody gashes ran down Godzilla's body. He roared and pushed away Titanosaurus. The monster turned around. A fin popped up from the tip of his tail.
XXXXX
Man, I hope I'm right.
Ruffin looked at the circle of C4 he, Akua and Fetisov had laid out on the floor. By his estimate, they should be right above the control room. He hoped so. They'd probably have just one shot to get this right.
He glanced at Jellicoe and three members of the Trinidadian Special Operations Unit guarding the Sixth Floor. The muffled sounds of gunfire came from the floor below. That would be Best, the other Shield International commandos, and the remaining Trinidadians taking pot shots at the Venezuelans guarding the control room. That should make them think a frontal assault was coming.
Boy, are they in for a surprise.
"All the explosives are set," Fetisov said.
"Then let's not keep the bastards waiting."
Ruffin waved them into a restroom thirty feet from the C4. He pulled out the detonator, checked the corridor, then stepped back inside the restroom.
"Best," he radioed. "Grenades."
"Roger."
Several seconds passed. The men below would be throwing or launching grenades at the Venezuelans. Ruffin hoped all the explosions would drown out the detonation of the C4.
"Go!" Best hollered.
"Fire in the hole." Ruffin brought his thumb down on the detonator.
A roar and a tremor enveloped the Sixth Floor. Ruffin counted to three, then rushed out of the restroom, followed by the others. He stopped near the edge of the smoking hole in the floor while Akua and Jellicoe unfurled their ropes. Ruffin, Fetisov and the Trinidadian special ops guys pulled out grenades and chucked them through the hole. A series of thumps erupted seconds later. For good measure, they threw five more grenades through the hole.
After they went off, Ruffin scanned the room below with his mirror. Through the haze of grayish smoke he saw consoles and monitors and swivel chairs. He also saw several figures lying on the floor.
Ruffin turned to Akua and Jellicoe and pointed to the hole. They lowered the ropes into the control room. Ruffin and Fetisov climbed down, dropping the final couple of feet to the floor. He brought up his MP5 and scanned the room. Two Simbaaku lay unmoving, their human masks gone, replaced by gorilla-like faces. Blood flowed from their necks.
He also spotted three dead Venezuelans, two with Uzis by their sides. The other . . .
"General Moscoso," stated Fetisov.
Judging by the blackened hole in his head, Ruffin guessed the alliance between the Simbaaku and the Venezuelans had come to an end.
Another Simbaaku sat slumped against one of the consoles, blood covering face and throat. From the information Miranda provided them, he recognized the alien. Ulljrex, the leader.
The last Simbaaku on Earth.
The alien looked up at him. His mouth opened and he croaked. "No, this can't . . . it can't."
Ulljrex's head slumped forward. His human face melted away, revealing the gorilla one.
"Yes, it can, dickhead."
Ruffin looked around the room. A few of the monitors showed static or had gone black. Others showed images of Titanosaurus and readouts that appeared to be in the Simbaaku's language. One monitor displayed a live shot of a burning, ruined city. It had to be through Titanosaurus' eyes. He also noticed another massive form in the monster's line of sight just before it turned away.
Godzilla!
"What do you know? The son-of-a-bitch is still alive."
"Maybe he can kill Titanosaurus," said Fetisov.
"Well what say we give him a hand?"
The pair slapped bricks of C4 throughout the control room. When they finished, they climbed out through the hole and hurried down the corridor.
"Fire in the hole."
Ruffin set off the C4. A gusher of fire and smoke shot through the hole. He dashed back there and peered through the cloud of smoke. The control room was reduced to twisted, burning wreckage.
He pulled out the satellite phone and called Chief Briggs on board Eclipse.
"The big show has been cancelled. Repeat, the big show has been cancelled."
TO BE CONTINUED