Godzilla: Tactical Assault

by Locutus6

A gritty, mature, and serious take on Godzilla with horror elements. Written in the form of an ongoing television series. The military wages a desperate war to defend humanity against monsters who begin to appear around the globe. (FYI: If you liked 'Godzilla: Minus one', the plot to this story is actually pretty similar.) Latest Chapter: (The Secret of "Them").

11. Chapter 11: Treacherous Water

Chapter 11: Treacherous Water

Marcus, along with the rest of Admiral Nimitz's party, had begun the third leg of their journey to France. They had hopped from the Philippines to India, then Egypt, and now were halfway to Tunis in North Africa. Once there, they were to board a US navy destroyer, which would then sail them the rest of the way to the research facility where the egg was being housed near Toulon. The three long flights had taken their toll on the group. Marcus, along with the rest of the passengers, was fast asleep.

Marcus was awakened by the sound of the radio crackling inside the cockpit of the plane. He could not make out what the voice on the other end of the receiver was saying, but he heard the pilot reply back: "Understood." The radio chatter stopped abruptly from there, and the pilot and co-pilot started talking amongst themselves for a moment. When they were done, the co-pilot unbuckled himself from his seat and came out of the cockpit. He quietly came up to Admiral Nimitz and gently tapped him on the shoulder to rouse him.

"Yes, what is it?" The Admiral asked sleepily, wiping dry crusts from his eyes and reacclimating himself to the waking world.

"Admiral, we just got word that Varan has reappeared in Germany." The Co-pilot informed him. "Thought you would like to know as soon as possible."

"Have the Germans engaged it?" Nimitz asked eagerly, snapping awake.

"Not yet sir." The co-pilot answered.

"I see, thank you." Admiral Nimitz dismissed the co-pilot. The conversation had stirred Sgt. Brock and Lieutenant-Commander Williams. They had caught just enough of the conversation to know Varan was back on the prowl. Nimitz looked deep in thought, considering the situation.

"So, what is Varan exactly?" Lieutenant-Commander Williams asked, underlining the group's lack of knowledge about the world's newest Kaiju.

"Well, beyond being a monster, he's some sort of amphibian." Marcus answered.

"What, like a huge horned toad?" Brock asked, somewhat curious.

"More like a horned salamander." Marcus replied. Brock just stared at him, not understanding the difference. "Because of the tail." Marcus clarified. "Of course, it's a lot more dangerous than your average salamander." He added, trying to insert a little levity.

"I'm not sure what the big deal is." Williams said dismissively. "How dangerous can Varan be compared to what we've seen already? He's not heavily armored like Anguirus, he can't breathe fire or go underground like Baragon, and he can't fly at the unbelievable speeds like the Rodans. Sure, Varan is big, but that just means he's a big target too. And he can glide, so what? That just means fighters don't have to dive down to attack him. He's not incredibly fast in flight and isn't that maneuverable either. Skilled pilots outta be able to shoot him down easily." The commander said indifferently.

"You might feel differently if you saw one of these things in action." Brock shot back sharply.

"We've been hearing for years now just how tough the German military machine has become, they should be able to handle it on their own." Williams said curtly.

"I would remind you that we've yet to kill even one of these things." Brock countered. "The best we've managed to do, is deflect an attack or two. That's not much to hang our hats on if you ask me. Until we find a way to kill these things, we are fighting a losing battle. So far, we've just been hanging on by the skin of our teeth. That won't cut it forever."

"We've beaten them twice." Williams argued.

"Yeah, but on those two occasions we've managed to pull off what we're generously calling victories, both battles were on ground that was well-prepared ahead of time, and of our own choosing." Brock counterargued. "We're not going to be able to lure these things forever. What happens when one of them hits us somewhere that is not well prepared and not of our choosing? I think we're in for a nightmare scenario the first time one of these creatures manages to hit a major city. And believe me, that day is coming."

"Having been on the ground in a small village when Baragon was on the warpath, I can tell you, it's not something I'd wish on anyone." Marcus spoke up in support of Brock's argument. "We should do everything within our power to prevent that from happening again. And to Brock's first point, I feel like these creatures are intelligent, I doubt they will fall for the same tricks twice."

...

In Germany, Reinhart and Fritz were speeding their way towards Lake Muritz in an army truck. They had tried to radio the patrol forces stationed there to be on the lookout for Varan, but so far, they had received no word back. Reinhart took it as a bad sign. Either the soldiers were too busy to respond or unable to respond.

Reinhart and Fritz's truck was climbing the final hill that overlooked the lake. As they came over the slope, the pair got their first look at the situation as it was unfolding. They could see Varan moving through the forested landscape, trampling down trees as he went. The monster had just about reached the ridge on the far side of the valley. Below, the smoldering ruins of the waterfront restaurant sat at the edge of Lake Muritz. There were no signs of the guards or surviving civilians.

Fritz stopped the truck. His eyes started to dart around the landscape, taking stock of the situation. As he did, there was a noise that drew both his and Varan's attention. The monster had just reached the zenith of the cliff he was climbing. Varan looked back and saw a platoon of tanks rolling out of the woods on the opposite side of the valley. Their sudden arrival was not a coincidence. Fritz had radioed the commander of the armored division while in route to the lake as a precaution. It was a wise decision as it turned out.

Reinhart's reaction was far less measured than Fritz's. His blood boiled at the first glimpse of Varan. It was a mixture of pure hate and absolute terror. His head was filled with hopeless notions of revenge for his family. In the space of a second, he relived every terrifying moment of Varan's initial attack. Reinhart's only solace was his hunch was right on the money about the monster using the watershed to avoid detection. That, and the tanks that were closing in on Varan, just might be able to exact some revenge on his behalf.

As it turned out though, the tanks were too late. They were presently too far out of range to be a threat to Varan immediately. The monster simply ignored them and leapt into the air, gliding down the other side of the hill. Varan was able to stay just high enough to skim above the tree line. He avoided outcroppings of rocks that jetted out along his path. Varan ended up landing safely into the valley at the bottom.

From his vantage point, Fritz could see the path the tanks would have to take to catch up with the monster. He radioed the platoon leader of the armored column to reroute his units in that direction. The tanks quickly started to move to the road that would take them into the next valley. Just like that, the chase was on. The heavy tanks struggled up the hill at twenty-five miles per hour, while Fritz and Reinhart sped ahead of them to get a better read on the situation just over the next horizon.

As he drove, Fritz radioed their position and situation into the German field headquarters, so other Wehrmacht forces could be alerted and converge on the area. He hoped they would be able to cut off, or at least slow down, Varan long enough for reinforcements to catch up. Fritz wasn't confident what they had on hand would be enough to get the job done though.

As Fritz and Reinhart came over the hill, they sighted Varan again. The monster was surprisingly agile for something its size. He could move fast when he wanted to. Fortunately for them, he had slowed down. The monster must have felt secure that he had left any threats safely behind him.

Fritz and Reinhart were about halfway down the winding road of the hill when Headquarters radioed back to them. They advised Fritz that a second armored column was close by, just a couple miles ahead of Varan. They were on the way, getting into position to block the monster's path. Fritz spotted another good vantage point and pulled off the road. The location served his purpose perfectly. Once stopped, he grabbed a pair of binoculars from beneath his seat.

By that time, the platoon of panzers that were following Varan started to crest the hill behind them. Meanwhile, the monster was still in the valley below. He was marching onward, carefree. Seemingly unaware of the column of tanks trailing him. Fritz shifted his sights to the other side of the valley to look for the second tank platoon. They were not there yet, but they should be any minute. Once they arrived, Varan would be surrounded, and the assault could begin.

As Varan got halfway through the valley, tanks began to appear on the wooded ridge in front of him. Varan spotted them immediately and then stopped. The monster sat there for a moment, seeming to consider what he should do next. He roared out a warning, not really understanding what the tanks were, but recognizing them as a threat by their aggressive advance towards him.

After perceiving the tanks as hostile, Varan quickly had to decide if he should fight them or flee. His enemies might have been small, but they were also very numerous. At the same time that Varan was mulling it over, he became aware of the other tank column approaching him from behind. Watching Varan through his binoculars, Fritz thought the monster looked distressed when it realized the first column of tanks had followed him from the other valley too. Only then did Varan understand that he was being stalked by what he thought of as hostile little creatures.

The panzers were still well out of range, which gave Varan a little time to think. He looked around, assessing his environment. To the left, there was a steep hill that would be difficult to climb. He would likely come under attack while trying to escape if he went that way. But to the right, there was salvation, a small lake. It didn't take Varan long to decide what he should do next. He bolted for the water as both tank columns continued to close in.

Varan rushed forward and splashed into the lake. The mass of the monster's body hitting the water sent gigantic waves hurdling towards both sides of the lakeshore. The impacting waves pushed far beyond the tree lines that surrounded the lake. Only after a couple of seconds did the water begin to retreat back within its normal boundaries. It took Varan mere moments to swim across the entire lake. As he got to the other side, he looked back, as if to see if his tiny pursuers were able to traverse the water as well. He sat there and waited.

The panzers eventually caught up with Varan and stopped short of the lake, allowing each unit to get into position. Fritz noted that Varan almost looked pleased when the tanks pursuing him stopped at the waterline. Varan concluded that they could not go on the water after all. The tanks, however, had not given up. The platoons had finally managed to close within firing range with their cannons, and as each unit came to a stop, they opened up on the monster.

A cluster of shells arched over the waters of the lake in a near-synchronized attack. They quickly found their target on the other side. Each shell landed on the tough, armored carapace over Varan's back. To the shock of Fritz and Reinhart, the monster barely seemed to notice them. There was no noticeable damage as the ammo popped against Varan's sturdy armor.

The German tank crews were equally surprised by the ineffectiveness of their attack. The tank commander, however, was undeterred, and ordered a second volley. He instructed his men to readjust their sights downward, and the panzers thundered-off a second time. Some of the rounds hit Varan a little lower than the first volley. They hammered against the monster's legs and belly, avoiding his sturdier back armor. This time Varan did take notice. There was still no noticeable damage to the monster, but at least he reacted to the detonations.

At that point, the tanks that were not already in ideal firing positions started to make their way around the edges of the lake. Varan took notice. Again, he watched and appeared to consider his options. Surprisingly, Varan once again decided to move off, leaving his attackers safely behind him. The tanks were not actually fast enough to keep pace with Varan, and he seemed to be aware of that.

Fritz and Reinhart put the truck back into drive and took off after Varan. Meanwhile, the monster was putting more and more distance between himself and the tanks with every passing moment. Fritz updated Headquarters to the developing situation, and in return, they notified him that air support was on its way.

The Luftwaffe arrived on the scene just minutes later, or at least a small portion of it had. What was actually present and at their disposal, was not the whole German air force, but rather a collection of the few assets the Germans happened to have on patrol in that area at the time. The motley crew of aircraft had been patched together to form a makeshift strike-force. Other warplanes were being scrambled at that very moment from nearby bases, but the trouble was, they wouldn't be able to arrive on scene for at least another twenty-five minutes. Until then, it was up to the handful of planes to slow the monster down.

Delaying the monster was exactly what was needed at that moment. The tank's failed assault had altered Varan's path, and he was now on a crash-course towards a tiny mountain village. Everything happened so quickly that there simply hadn't been any time to alert the nearby villagers to the impending danger. So many military aircraft flying overhead should have been an indication that something was wrong, but warplanes had been flying over the village on regular patrols so frequently in the last couple of days that it didn't alarm the people like it should have.

As it stood, it was squarely on the pilot's shoulders to prevent disaster. The aircraft the Germans had on hand were a mixture of Messerschmidt 109 fighters, Junkers Ju 87 dive-bombers, Junkers Ju 88 medium-bombers, and Heinkel He 111 medium-bombers. Nothing super heavy. Still, they were the only hope for the citizens in the village below. The pilots quickly developed a plan, dividing themselves into two attack wings. The fighters would come in low with their machine guns to distract the monster, and hopefully do some damage, while the bombers would hit him from above.

Unfortunately, it wasn't clear how tough Varan's armor was. The Germans had obtained a handful information about previous assaults on other monsters. If Varan's armored plates were anything like Anguirus', they would be wasting their time. On the other hand, if Varan's armor was more on par with Baragon's, then they might just stand a fighting chance. The pilots didn't figure they would be able to kill Varan, but they hoped they could at least get the monster to change course if they harassed him enough.

The first group of planes came in for their attack. The sound of the aircraft's prop engines gave away their approach, and Varan spotted them immediately. The monster stopped in his tracks and gazed at the planes. Like with the tanks before, Varan appeared to be trying to decide what the aircraft were. Their buzzing and flying reminded him of giant insects from days long gone by. When the first Messerschmidt fighter opened up on him with its machine guns, Varan knew the planes were just like the tanks, hostile. Unlike before though, he had run out of patience. This time Varan would not avoid the fight.

A second 109 fighter swooped down and got a nasty surprise. As the plane descended, Varan leapt up and caught the aircraft with his mouth and talons. The aluminum fuselage of the airframe easily bent under the pressure of Varan's closing jaws, crushing both the aircraft and its trapped pilot. Somewhere along the line, the fighter's fuel tank caught fire and the plane detonated in the monster's mouth. The explosion did not injure Varan in the slightest, but he did seem surprised by the pop and sudden taste of fire.

Varan stopped for a brief moment, confused by the taste and texture of metal. Perhaps he had been expecting the plane to be made up of some type of organic tissue. As if it were a pest he could eat. The machine elements were very alien to the ancient amphibian, and he did not like it. Varan spit out the flaming wreckage of the aircraft and then moved on.

Above the monster, the first dive-bomber had gotten into position and came screaming down on him. The fighter dropped its payload squarely onto Varan's back, and the answer of just how durable the monster's armor was, quickly became apparent. The resulting explosion didn't even make Varan flinch. The rest of the German pilots watched in horror as they realized just how outmatched they were. Any thoughts about killing the monster with bombs evaporated.

The German pilots were unwilling to give up though. Next, a Heinkel medium-bomber attacked Varan. The Heinkel carried several explosives that were heavier than the dive-bomber's individual bomb. Despite that advantage, the attack was even less effective. Dive-bombers had the advantage of putting their payload right on target by getting in super close and guiding them in before releasing. This was not the case with traditional bombers. Even low-flying medium-bombers relied on a certain amount of luck for accuracy. Out of the twelve bombs released by the Heinkel, only one of them was a direct hit, and Varan showed no more regard for it than the first blast.

Varan pressed on, unimpressed by the firepower of the Luftwaffe. He managed to snag another aircraft when a Junkers bomber tried to press in too low. The pilot tried to pull up when he saw he had caught the monster's attention, but it was already too late. Varan jumped up for the bomber. While the monster failed to catch the plane with his jaws, he did manage to cleave off the right wing of the aircraft with the sharp spines that ran along the center of his back.

Having lost a wing, the bomber went completely out of control, spinning horizontally in the air. One of the crewmen somehow made it to the side door with a parachute to escape the doomed aircraft. He even managed to jump out of the plane. Sadly, he struck the surviving wing of the bomber on the way out and was knocked unconscious. Moments later, the airman was pulverized by the impact with the surface. His chute never opened. He hit the ground along with the aircraft. The bombs still within the bay of the Junkers exploded the second the plane hit the ground. The resulting fire eliminated the already slim chance of any of the other crew surviving the crash.

After that, none of the other German aircraft dared to get in close to Varan again. Instead, they chose to harass the monster at a safe distance with their machine guns and only dropped bombs from high above with minimal effectiveness. The only good thing that came of it was the villagers were alerted by all the commotion. They sighted the monster and started the slow process of evacuating. The smartest ones dropped everything and immediately ran for the hills, having heard in detail what befell the residents of Essenheim when Varan had come calling there. The less-intelligent townsfolk tried to pack up and bring their belongings with them. It would prove a fatal miscalculation for many.

Despite the best efforts of the Luftwaffe pilots, Varan had not changed direction. He'd spotted the village and stubbornly held his course as bombs and bullets fell all around him. The monster crashed through the first few houses he came across, having learnt that smashing buildings sometimes yielded tasty snacks from inside. And indeed, he found a few.

The airmen above watched helplessly as Varan rampaged through the mountain town, consuming some of its inhabitants. Most of the warplanes had already expended their ammunition. There was nothing more they could actively do to help the situation. Their attack had been a wash, but it had brought about one positive outcome. Their distraction had bought the German ground forces, who were still following Varan, precious time to catch up with the monster.

Varan was about halfway through the village when the panzers arrived on the scene in mass. They thundered down the main road and started to spread out along the tree line. Moments later, the tanks poured out of the forest. This attack was slightly better coordinated and more effective than the first.

Fritz and Reinhart were again nearby, helping to spot for the gunners. Any shells hitting Varan above his armor belt might as well have missed, so accuracy was very important. Unfortunately, anything hitting Varan below the armor belt only seemed to annoy him. Akin to getting a slight pinch. The tanks just didn't have the firepower necessary to do any meaningful damage.

After several more volleys from the tank corps, Varan began to do something quite strange. He came to a complete stop, and then remained perfectly still, which made him an ideal target for the panzers. The attacks paused for a moment. The gunners had been rotating the turrets of their tanks to keep up with the monster's progress, and they suddenly had to stop and then wheel them back to correct their aim.

A moment later, when the attack renewed, the first shell of the salvo sent out a gush of white fluid as it exploded against Varan's side. At first, the panzer crews thought they had finally done some substantial damage to the monster, but as it turned out, what had squished out of Varan was not blood. It was instead some type of frothy opaque substance. Several more tanks fired, yielding similar results. The white fluid splashed all over the houses that were in close proximity to the monster. One of the panzers that had ventured closer to Varan than the rest of the platoon also got doused by a large quantity of the substance.

Fritz and Reinhart curiously watched the lead tank as the liquid started to sink into the crevasses of the machine, finding its way to the inner workings where the crew were located. Moments later, the soldiers inside the panzer came boiling out of their tank. The only other time Reinhart had seen men move like that was when some of his friends had accidently knocked down a hornet's nest.

Whatever the mystery substance was, it must have been extremely toxic. The men running from the tank appeared to be badly burnt from where the fluid had touched them. One of the soldiers, the man with the most burn marks, dropped over in the street. Soon after, another man fell. Then another one after that. One by one, each of them collapsed until the entire crew was down. After that, there was an eerie stillness.

The men had been moving like they were on fire only a moment before, and now they all lay motionless. Reinhart could only assume they were dead. The display had an effect on the rest of the tank crews. None of them dared fire another shot for fear of spreading more of the toxic brew and potentially succumbing to the same fate as their fallen comrades.

Reinhart looked back at Varan, who was now dripping with the slimy substance. It seemed to be leaking out of every one of the monster's pours. In fact, there was so much of the fluid that it was beginning to run down the cobblestone streets of the town. People who were still hiding in their homes where forced to run out, wanting nothing to do with what was coming at them. Though most of the panzer crews had already figured out on their own that continuing the attack was ill-advised, Reinhart still heard the tank commander crackle over the radio, ordering all units to hold fire. Otherwise, they'd risk spreading the unknown substance all over the area and exposing the retreating civilians. Clearly, attacking the monster would do more harm than good at that point.

Noticing that the attack had ceased, Varan began to move again. He left a trail of the secretion behind him like a snail as he moved off. In a way, it was covering his retreat. The tank commander's first urge was to follow Varan through town, but doing so would mean having to drive directly through the slimy substance, and he didn't like that idea one bit. Varan's new course was taking him along the only road that led up to a mountain path, meaning there was no chance the panzers could directly pursue him without coming into physical contact with the slime-trail. Seeing little other choice, the tank commander was forced to order the armored column to go the long way around, avoiding the town and road altogether.

…

Two hours later, after a very long detour, the column of panzers had just about caught up with Varan again nearby the Elbe River. In all, they had been chasing the monster over rough terrain for the better part of three hours already and were down to less than half of their fuel tanks. If the chase persisted for much longer, they would be in danger of running out of gas. However, some good news had developed in the meantime. While the monster had been retreating northward, an artillery unit had arrived, and they might just have the firepower needed to finally tip the balance of power in the German's favor.

Out ahead of them, Varan had stopped moving, apparently resting. The use of his slime-defense just might have taken some of the fight out of the monster. Reinhart theorized that Varan could be dehydrated now. Given that he was an amphibian, and he had been away from a source of water for quite some time, the use of his odd ability probably compounded that issue for him. Fritz and Reinhart agreed on that much.

The break in action meant that Fritz and Reinhart had time to examine the bodies of the men who had been exposed to Varan's secretions. It was clear that the men had not died from their burns alone. In fact, one of the men had barely been injured at all. There was only a slight touch of a burn on his wrist. Still, the substance had killed him just the same as the others. It had simply taken longer. He was the last one to die.

Samples of Varan's muck were very carefully collected from the streets and sent back to a lab for study. Reinhart already had a working theory though. He felt as though the substance was some type of poison. The burns on the men were just incidental, a product of the extremely corrosive nature of the substance. However, that corrosion was just meant as a vehicle for the poison to enter the victim's bloodstream. If the wounds were compared to other corrosive chemical burns, most of the exposed men would not have died, at least not as quickly. There was clearly something more at work. The deaths were in order of most exposed to least, which was not a coincidence. A higher rate of exposure correlated directly with quicker deaths. None the less, any level of contact with the substance still meant certain death within a matter of seconds for the person exposed to it. Clearly, whatever Varan was using as a poison was extremely potent.

What wasn't as clear, however, was whether there was a minimal level of contact a person could survive. Would a mere drop of the poison still be lethal? Even less than that? Reinhart was aware of some frog species that produced neurotoxins so powerful they could stop the heart of a grown man with even the slightest amount of exposure. This did not bode well, and it presented a big problem when attacking Varan. Fritz walked up and pulled Reinhart away from his thoughts. They needed to get moving if they were to catch up with the tanks.

The Luftwaffe had arrived in force and had been keeping tabs on Varan in the meantime. The warplanes were keeping their distance though. It had been decided that tanks and aircraft would be held back while the artillery was set up in the hills above the monster. Planes and tanks made too much noise and would expose their approach prematurely. All other units would simply stay on standby until the big guns opened up.

Through trial and error, the Germans were quickly learning what was not working. They hoped that their artillery guns would have the right balance of firepower and accuracy that their aircraft and tanks both lacked. If the Germans could just get the right amount of firepower focused into the right area, they might finally start having some impact.

Military trucks quietly started to bring up artillery pieces into the hills above Varan. Once there, their crews quickly set the guns up as discreetly as possible. All was going well. The cannons were nearly ready to go when one unwary truck driver revved up his engine a little too noisily while fighting to get his load up the hill. The sound alerted Varan to the growing danger around him.

Fortunetly, the artillery pieces were still well-hidden in the foliage, and Varan was not able to pinpoint them. Still, the monster felt a threat building around him, and his instinct was to retreat. Varan's nostrils flared. He almost seemed annoyed that he was still being pursued. He'd barely had a moments peace all morning long.

With Varan's sudden movement, the artillery crews were left scrambling to make final preparations for the bombardment. The soldiers rapidly loaded three-and-a-half inch shells into their guns. By the time they were ready to fire, Varan had begun moving away, but he was still well-within range of the cannons. The guns began to roar, and salvos quickly showered down all-around Varan. Unfortunately, by that point, the monster had moved just far enough away that the cannon barrels had to be raised up, and thus, their volleys were firing in an arc and plummeting downward. That small detail ended up making a big difference. Because of that, the artillery shells were landing on Varan's armored back instead of hitting him on the sides as they had been intended to do.

Once it was clear that the Germans had lost the element of surprise, their tanks were sent back in to pursue Varan once again. The panzers followed the monster from a cliff-side road that was overlooking him as he retreated. However, it turned out that this firing position was no good. It guaranteed that all their shots would land above Varan's armor belt, just like the artillery was. As it stood, all the tanks could do for the time being was continue to pursue the monster.

As time passed, the mass of artillery fire began to die down as Varan continued forward and slowly got out of their range. The cannons could certainly be packed up to follow the monster, but that would take time, and catching up to Varan afterwards didn't seem very likely. The monster had outmaneuvered the German Army once more. The panzers were already starting to lose ground to Varan, and at the pace they were going, it wouldn't be very long before their fuel reserves would start to run dry again.

The decisive moment came when Varan found a bridge that spanned across the Elbe River. Remembering from earlier that the tanks couldn't float across the lake and had to detour around the water, the monster appeared to have gotten himself an idea. He changed course and climbed up onto the superstructure of the bridge. The metal support beams gave way almost instantly under Varan's weight. Within seconds, the entire structure gave way, and the bridge collapsed into the river below.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Varan stood proudly amongst the wreckage of the bridge. The river water below him was swollen to a very high level at that point. There had been a considerable amount of rainfall earlier that month. None-the-less, Varan was far too big to disappear into the river. The water only came up to the very bottom portions of the monster's chest. With the bridge entirely destroyed, and rendered unusable, Varan crossed over to the opposite bank and then looked back to see what became of his pursuers.

Fritz and Reinhart arrived about this time to witness the final moments of the battle. The panzers had come to a halt, still on the road overlooking the river. It was already clear to the tank commander that they had lost the day. The heavily armored panzers certainly would not be able to cross the mere 'corpse of a bridge' the monster left sticking out of the river behind him. Nearly out of fuel, and entirely out of options, the Wehrmacht would have to concede victory to Varan. For the time being, the monster could do whatever he pleased, and there was very little they could do to stop him. The Germans needed to regroup, refuel, and then find another river crossing to begin the chase again tomorrow.

…

The plane carrying Marcus and the rest of his group finally arrived at the airfield in Tunis. After the aircraft had come to a halt, the passengers disembarked and found a car there waiting for them. It took them directly to the USS Reeves, a Mahan class destroyer, which was waiting at anchor for them in the harbor.

The Reeves was an old destroyer that appeared to have seen its share of wear and tear over the years. Being used to the grandeur of the Enterprise, the Reeves inspired a far less deal of awe from Marcus. He realized that he had really taken the majesty of the fleet's flagship for granted as he began to walk up the rusty ramp of the old and beat-up Reeves.

Marcus had a foreboding feeling while he was stepping onto the deck of the Reeves with his bag. A certain unspoken something was gnawing in the back of his mind, telling him the next leg of the journey would be no pleasure cruise. Marcus tried to push it out of his mind. The sun was high in the sky, there was a gentle breeze in the air, and they had places to be. His feeling of uneasiness would have to take a backseat for now.

The USS Reeves was underway in less than a half-hour. By then, Marcus was starting to settle down. Admiral Nimitz spent most of his time on the bridge talking with the captain of the ship, the recently promoted Captain Shack. He was a younger officer who was eager to make a good impression on the admiral.

Marcus only met Captain Shack briefly when he had come to welcome the admiral aboard the Reeves, but he immediately got the impression that Shack might have been promoted a little too early. He had a nervous energy about him. When they left port, Captain Shack got distracted and forgot to order the ship's anchor to be raised. The USS Reeves managed to damage a civilian vessel that was moored next to it in the harbor when the chain attached to the anchor scraped their hull. Fortunately, the damage was only minor, but still, it was a dubious start to their journey.

If that incident wasn't bad enough, Captain Shack had also overlooked another important detail when the Reeves departed. He had sent several of his galley crewmen to get supplies while they were in port. He was planning to prepare a special dinner for the Admiral during their journey to France. The trouble was, Captain Shack was in such a hurry to get the Reeves moving, he failed to realize his men had not yet returned to the ship and he'd managed to set sail without them. A half hour out of port, Shack realized his mistake and was forced to turn around and go back for them.

Once the wayward crewmen were back aboard the Reeves, the ship once again got underway. After they had gotten back out to sea, Captain Shack decided that they should test-fire their torpedoes to demonstrate to the admiral they'd be able to defend themselves if the need should arise.

Unfortunately, during the test-firing, a live torpedo was accidentally launched in place of one of the dummy torpedoes. A local fishing ship was in the area and had to be alerted to make evasive maneuvers to avoid the danger. The fishing ship was easily able to avoid the torpedo. Its draft was too shallow for it to be hit anyway, but suffice to say, Captain Shack's attempt to impress Admiral Nimitz hadn't exactly gone the way he planned.

From there, Captain Shack's only aim was to try to keep the Reeves afloat long enough to get his VIP passengers to their destination in one piece. The admiral understandably stayed on the bridge to ensure no more shenanigans would take place.

Meanwhile, Marcus and Brock were sitting in the ship's stern anti-aircraft station talking to one of the crew members of the Reeves. A man who only went by the name Smitty. He was a salty old sailor, and in a funny way, seemed to reflect the spirit of his ship. He was rough around the edges, but well-seasoned. Smitty had been in the Navy for a long time and seemed in-tune with the ocean.

Smitty had a very low opinion of Captain Shack, and he obviously didn't like serving under his command. He cited several incidents where Shack had made the wrong call while on the open ocean. There had been several times the ship may have met disaster, if not for the insights of the ship's Executive Officer. This made Marcus feel even more uneasy about the issues they'd had earlier in the day. He had hoped Captain Shack's evident incompetence was simply due to having Admiral Nimitz aboard, making him nervous and causing him to make so many blatant mistakes.

Marcus picked up the Coke he had obtained from the ship's galley and proceeded to take a long swig from it. The bubbles danced on his tongue and the coolness of the soda refreshed him. It was good. So good, that it almost made him feel better about the situation. He took a second sip before putting the bottle back down on the deck and then resumed listening to Smitty's stories. The wind changed direction unexpectedly, and a strong gust blew the half-full Coke bottle over. The container rolled down the deck and then over the side of the ship.

"Shit!" Marcus leaned over the side, and futilely looked to see what had become of his drink. As he watched, the Coke bottle slowly began to accumulate more and more seawater, until it finally sank below the waves. While he was watching, Marcus noticed that the ocean had grown visibly choppier. Mere moments ago, the sea had been relatively calm with the usual levels of bobbing up and down that he'd grown accustomed to while at sea.

"Aw, well that's too bad." Smitty said, seeming to be somewhat amused by Marcus' bad luck with his soda. "That's the sea for ya though. She is a treacherous mistress. She'll encourage you one minute, then knock you on yer ass the next. Wise men respect her. I've been a sailor my whole life, seen many rare sights. Some good… some bad."

"What kind of things have you seen?" Marcus asked, finally accepting the loss of his Coke.

"Oh plenty, let me see now..." Smitty began, thinking it over. "I've seen seventy-foot rogue waves come out of nowhere and capsize ten-thousand-ton cargo ships. I witnessed a group of twelve swimmers mercilessly pulled away from the shore by a powerful riptide. I've seen The Maelstroms of Norway suck down unsuspecting fishermen who ventured too close. I've spotted the square cross-waves off the coast of California. I've been present when the tides turn the fortress of Monte St. Michel in France into a solitary island in a matter of minutes. I've seen waterspouts in Florida come out of the water and rip up houses from their very foundations. I've seen the red tides of India. I had a buddy disappear into the Bermuda Triangle, never to be heard from again. I've seen twenty-foot-long sharks burst out of the water to catch seals. One of the worst things I ever saw though, was a Tsunami. Imagine, if-you-will, a ninety-foot-high wave hitting a beach at one-hundred and fifty miles per hour, pulverizing everything in its path. The one I saw took hundreds of people with it. I was lucky enough to be perched on the high rocks of a cliff that overlooked the beach with my sweetheart. Otherwise, I wouldn't have lived to tell the tail."

"A thing like that would stay with you I'd imagine." Marcus noted solemnly. "But that's not the worst thing you've ever seen?" He asked curiously. "You said that was one of the worst things you've seen. What could possibly top that?" Smitty looked at Marcus like he had asked something very taboo. He was quiet for a second, then looked around to see if any of the Reeve's other crewmen were within earshot. When he saw that none of them were, he went on.

"Those were just the normal things I've seen." Smitty began warily. "I've witnessed other things that no one can explain. Might sound a little crooked, if you catch my meaning. When I was young, I remember the Old-Timers telling stories about mermaids, krakens and the like, and thought they were just the products of moonshine, boredom, and overactive imaginations. But I'll tell you truly, I've seen strange things with sober eyes."

"What kind of things?" Marcus asked, intrigued.

"Alright, I'll tell you the story." Smitty relented. "About fifteen years ago, I was on watch-duty on the USS Smith, a destroyer not unlike this one. This was after the Great War. Tensions had long since died down. Our vessel was on its way to Liverpool England. Nothing important, just running some men and supplies across the pond. I think it was about half-past midnight. I was alone in the crow's nest, trying to fight off sleep. I had been out there for hours alone. The majority of the crew had long since been asleep already. That's when things started to get weird. It started out as a noise coming from under the water. Something I had never heard before. I've heard whales sing before, but this was nothing like that at all. It was a sound that no man or sea creature could possibly produce. It was unearthly, and it was getting louder. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Before I knew what was what, I saw a light moving under the water nearby the ship. And before you ask, it weren't no reflection from above, it was a moonless night. The landscape was pitch black, aside from the visitor under the waves. Whatever it was, it passed right beneath the boat. The ship bobbed up from the wake of its passing. After crossing our path, it sank into the depths until the light vanished again. Many are the nights where I sit by myself with a bottle of brandy and think about what it might have been. Nothing I've ever seen has made me lose more sleep than thinking about the noise it made."

"Could it have been a submarine?" Brock asked inquisitively.

"It weren't no submarine, I can tell you that." Smitty replied defensively. "I've been around them darn things since they were invented. Aside from that, the thing was far too big to have been a submarine. There was something else in the water with us that night." He remarked ominously.

About that time, the USS Reeves pitched up with a high wave, breaking the tension. Marcus shook himself back into reality, having been caught up in Smitty's story. He hadn't noticed that the seas around them had grown even more unruly.

"Is the Mediterranean always this rough?" Marcus asked.

"No, waves don't ordinarily get this big in the Mediterranean." Smitty answered before getting up to walk away. "I'd say something very nasty is brewing."

"Wait, what?" Marcus said, growing worried. After all he had just heard, he didn't want to know what fit into Smitty's definition of nasty. Smitty continued to walk away, ignoring him.

"So... he's pretty colorful." Brock said sarcastically as Smitty retreated out of earshot. "You think he's the Mayor of Crazy Town, or just the Secretary?"

"You don't think we should take him seriously?" Marcus asked.

"Don't worry about it kid, I think the old man was just trying to scare you." Brock reassured Marcus. "Grizzled old veterans like him get their kicks by terrifying young squids like you. I wouldn't pay him any mind."

"I don't know..." Marcus frowned. " If it was just a story, it was a damned convincing one."

Just then, there was a booming thunderclap above Marcus and Brock, and it instantly began pouring down rain. The two of them were forced to retreat inside the ship. They had to proceed carefully though, holding on to the handrails. Waves were now bouncing the Reeves up and down much higher than before.

"How did it get so bad so fast?!" Brock cursed. He slipped, and Marcus grabbed onto him, just to be safe.

If one of them were to fall overboard at that moment, it didn't seem likely that they could be retrieved in the quickly deteriorating weather. A wave came over the side of the destroyer and hit the pair as they clung onto the rail for safety. While neither of them had been dry to begin with, the seawater soaked through Marcus' uniform instantly and was horrifically cold. It stopped both men in their tracks for a second before they could recover and continue towards the hatch that would bring them inside the Reeves to relative safety. Brock laughed behind Marcus. While he had gotten soaked too, he was having more fun with the situation.

If it wasn't for the very real threat of drowning, Marcus too could have found some fun hanging onto the rail while the ship was pitching up and down in the water. However, he was not as fond of danger as Brock was and motioned for them to continue forward before something bad happened. Finally, the two of them made it to the hatch and opened it. Upon stepping inside the Reeves, Marcus and Brock found Smitty waiting for them there with a pair of towels. He was smiling a shit-eating grin at them.

'Wait a minute, how'd he get those towels so fast?' Marcus grimaced with suspicion. 'Did he know we were about to get drenched the whole time?'

…

Less than a half-hour later, the USS Reeves was caught up in a powerful storm. The thunder, lightning, and rain were intense beyond anything Marcus had experienced before. The ship felt like a tin-can being tossed around on the waves. Marcus had been through storms previously while sailing aboard the Enterprise, but on a big heavy capitol ship, one hardly seemed to notice waves. On the other hand, being on a destroyer like the USS Reeves during a storm was much like a thrill ride at a dodgy carnival. At any given moment, you did not know which direction you might get thrown in next.

The initial feeling of excitement and fun Marcus felt at the beginning of the storm had long since faded, washed away with the continuous crashing of waves against the hull of the Reeves. He realized, both the ship and his life were at risk to the hunger of the angry sea.

Marcus did his best to keep a cool head, but he was certain that his fear and apprehension were painted all over his face. He looked over to Brock, who had also lost all his bravado from earlier. It only reinforced to Marcus how serious and precarious the situation was. Even Smitty, who was keeping tabs on the pair, had a grim look on his face.

The destroyer jerked back and forth violently. Every man aboard had to hang on to something to keep their feet under them. Marcus imagined what it would be like if the Reeves went down, and they were actually forced to abandon ship. His mind shifted around to all the nasty things Smitty had told them about the sea. What if they couldn't get to the lifeboats and were left floating on the surface in shark infested waters? It occurred to Marcus that the sharks probably wouldn't even have much of a chance to find them before the raging storm drowned them.

Just as Marcus was pondering that question, another wave thundered against the hull of the Reeves and some water found its way into their compartment. That was enough for Marcus. He decided that he didn't want to be sitting in the bowels of the ship if it started to go down. He got up and began to make his way to the bridge to see just how bad the situation really was for himself. Neither Brock nor Smitty tried to stop him. It was slow going for Marcus, trying to keep his balance along the way as the Reeves continuously shifted in the water. Marcus was bracing himself with his arms outstretched against the walls of the corridor as he went. It was tiresome and his muscles ached from the effort.

Marcus arrived on the bridge just in time to see a crisis beginning to unfold. The helmsman was reporting to Captain Shack that a huge tidal wave was approaching the ship from the starboard side. There were only a few precious seconds to decide what to do. If the Reeves stayed where it was, the wave would roll over the destroyer's side and capsize them. If that were to happen, the odds of anyone aboard surviving the storm would drop dramatically.

Under the circumstances, Captain Shack did the worst thing possible. Nothing. He froze up and left his subordinates standing there waiting on him to act. They were losing valuable time they could not afford to waste. Fortunately, for everybody concerned, Admiral Nimitz was there, and he was not about to let anyone die standing on formalities. He quickly took command of the ship and issued orders to get the Reeves positioned so that the destroyer would turn flush with the oncoming wave.

The Reeves cut through the water and swerved just in time. Only seconds later, the tiny destroyer got caught up in the massive wave. For a few seconds, the ship was nearly at a sixty-degree angle as the stern was pulled up in the wall of water. Marcus was terrified as he tried to hang on. His heart was in his throat. Gravity was trying to pull him forward as he braced himself. Through the glass of the bridge, he could see the water below them. The ship was never meant to see the ocean from this angle. As the wave rolled up under the Reeves, they started to level out again. From there, the destroyer rode along the crest of the wave for a few more tense seconds. Time slowed down as the ship rushed forward with the force of the raging ocean. Another wave poured over the stern of the ship, but then rolled back overboard again.

Though Marcus didn't realize it at the time, the Reeves was already clear of the immediate danger. The ship surged forward, still being pulled along by the wake of the tidal wave that was rolling on in front of them. An additional hour of being tossed around, saw the Reeves through the storm and back into calmer waters and safety.

…

The trip by sea from Tunis to Toulon was only meant to take around twelve hours, but between Captain Shack's antics and the storm, the USS Reeves rolled into the port in Southern France about nine hours late. The French officials sent to meet Admiral Nimitz were concerned when they failed to arrive on time. They had made efforts to contact the Reeves, but the antenna on the destroyer had been knocked out during the storm, making radio communication impossible.

Upon arrival in Toulon, Marcus discovered that the enormous tidal wave they'd encountered in the storm was in fact caused by an unrelated phenomena. There had been an earthquake in Libya which caused the giant wave to form. It was just a crazy coincidence that it happened to hit the Reeves while in the thralls of the storm.

'Just one more strange story for Smitty to tell.' Marcus thought cynically, exhausted by the experience.

Unfortunately, the tidal wave had continued northward after its encounter with the Reeves and had impacted parts of Southern Europe. Italy was the hardest hit, being located directly across from the point of origin in Africa. In particular, the coastal areas of Sicily were devastated. France was relatively unaffected by the wave, as the strength of it had been broken up by other land masses between them.

With their safe arrival, Marcus, Admiral Nimitz, Sgt. Brock, and Lieutenant-Commander Williams could continue on as planned. They left the USS Reeves behind in the harbor. The destroyer was about to begin the long process of making repairs. Meanwhile, the French officials had a bus waiting to transport the team to the research facility. Marcus was more than happy to be off the Reeves and aboard something a little more stable. The sea voyage had tested his metal almost as much as his encounter with Baragon.

The subsequent ride through the French countryside was blessedly uneventful. Marcus' shattered nerves needed some time to settle. In fact, he fell asleep for about an hour before Brock poked him in the shoulder to let him know they were drawing near their final destination. They were still driving on a highway nearby the coast but had gone a considerable number of miles west. The bus made a turn off the main road, and onto a private one that would take them the remainder of the way. The road was a little windy, rising in elevation with each twist back and forth.

The grounds that the research facility was built on were nestled amongst the hills and overlooking the sea. The lovely scenery did not stop Marcus from being nervous though. This would mark the fourth occasion he'd come into close contact with a Kaiju, and he would not have recommended his first three encounters to anyone. There was no reason to think this would be any different.

The first thing Marcus spotted as they drove up on the facility was the impressive domed structure that encased the egg. He could only see the very top of it over the tree line at first, but as they got closer, he could see more and more. As the dome got bigger, Marcus could feel more anxiety building up in his chest. He knew he was already past the point of no return though. It wasn't like he could jump out of the bus and hitchhike back to the States. No, he was committed to whatever would come now. He'd have to see it through to the end.

In time, the bus brought them around the final corner, which allowed them to get their first good look at the entire facility. The structure housing the egg was the first thing everyone's eyes were drawn to. It dwarfed the buildings around it. The framework was steel, surrounded by what appeared to be glass. The building looked like something that should be found at the center of a World's Fair Exposition. It looked other-earthly, like an overgrown greenhouse or conservatory, but it housed something far rarer than anything that could be found in either.

The whole group was even more impressed by the gargantuan egg, which was plain as day to see through the clear walls of the dome. It was even bigger than they had imagined. It resembled a robin's egg with its light blue base color but was highlighted by soft yellow stripes and dotted with speckles of white throughout. It was an equal balance of bizarre and magnificent. An awe-inspiring sight for certain.

As Marcus stared at the gargantuan egg, something strange happened. All of his fear and apprehension about the mission started to melt away. There was something about the egg that gave him an inexplicable feeling of being safe, but there was more to it than that. He felt good, really good. The last time Marcus felt so at peace was prior to his encounter with Baragon. Perhaps even before he knew that Kaiju existed. It was hard for Marcus to pinpoint exactly what the feeling was. The only thing that came close was how he felt the last time he was with Shauna. Simply warm on the inside.

The bus came to a stop, and a delegation of French scientists came out from the facility to meet them. Admiral Nimitz shook hands with the lead scientist. His name was Dr. Jacquier. He introduced everyone to the rest of his team. Routine pleasantries were exchanged, most of which Marcus was ignoring. His gaze drifted back to the egg. He couldn't keep his eyes off of it. There was a great deal of conversation he missed before his attention came back to it.

"How did you manage to make something this big out of glass so quickly?" He caught Lieutenant-Commander Williams ask Dr. Jacquier, referring to the atrium housing the egg.

"Geez Williams, that's what you find impressive?" Brock rolled his eyes. "We have a true wonder sitting in front of us, and that's where your mind goes?"

"Well, the engineering is impressive." Williams floundered to find a better response, obviously a little embarrassed.

"First gentleman, I think both are impressive." Dr. Jacquier laughed and smiled kindly. "Second, it's not actually glass. It's a new material called plastic."

"Plastic? What the heck is that?" Brock asked.

"I'm glad you asked." Dr. Jacquier replied enthusiastically. "Plastic is a recently developed semi-synthetic organic polymer discovered by James Clerk Maxwell. It is very malleable and easy to work with. Because of that, it can be molded into solid objects derived from petrochemicals. It has great versatility and is impervious to water. It is light, cheap, and easy to produce. It has limitless applications."

"Oh..." Brock replied, pretending to find that interesting. It was clear that half of what the doctor had said had gone over his head. Marcus too was a little lost, but less so than Brock. He at least got the gist of it.

"I'll explain it to you more as we go." Dr. Jacquier smiled, realizing he was perhaps throwing a new concept a little too quickly at a simple soldier. "But suffice it to say, it is a discovery that will change the world as we know it in the years to come. Necessity is the mother of invention, and it was necessary to protect our guest here from the elements as quickly as possible." He gestured to the egg. "My feeling is 'The Thing' is happy in its new home."

"The Thing?" Marcus asked confused. "What do you mean?

"Oh, the egg, we don't really know what is in there yet, so we have just been saying that as a sort of place holder." Dr. Jacquier explained. "It somehow feels right to me. Once we rightly figure out what is in there, we can give it a more proper name. Would you gentlemen like a closer look? You've come all this way, might as well get cracking... so to speak."

A short while later, the group was climbing the stairs just outside of the atrium which housed the egg. They had to pass through a security checkpoint to get there, but the armed guards were pretty relaxed, waving the whole group through without issue. Dr. Jacquier was talking more about the building and how it had been constructed so quickly, perhaps patting his engineers on the back a little along the way. He also explained the security measures that had been put into place. The atrium had a failsafe built-in should the egg start to exhibit behavior perceived as dangerous. The French Government had only agreed to permit study of the egg within their territory so long as there was a way to destroy it quickly should the need arise.

The scientists had come up with a radical way to satisfy the security requirement. A relatively new technology was implemented into the very walls surrounding the egg. Dr. Jacquier described the technology as microwaves. He explained that microwaves were a form of electromagnetic radiation that caused dielectric heating primarily by the absorption of the energy in water, and thereby heating polarized molecules within a given object. In the case of the atrium, this meant the egg, should the surrounding emitter emplacements be turned on. Dr. Jacquier went on to explain that molecules have a partial-positive charge at one end, and a partial-negative charge at the other. Therefore, they rotate as they would try to align themselves with the alternating electrical field of the microwaves. This molecular movement would cause heat to disperse as the rotating molecules hit other molecules and put them into motion.

Dr. Jacquier summarized everything by saying that with the flip of just a single switch, the housing around the egg could be turned into an electromagnetic oven that would cook the egg along with whatever was inside it in just mere minutes. He joked that he could make enough scrambled eggs for the entire country of France if he wanted. Something about that statement made Marcus feel angry, but he didn't know why. He should have felt more secure knowing that they had such a well thought out defense.

"Where is this security switch?" Admiral Nimitz asked.

"It's in the observation deck." Dr. Jacquier answered. "Right next to the main control board. That way, it's right at our fingertips should it become necessary."

"Are you concerned that someone might hit the switch by mistake?" Lieutenant-Commander Williams asked. "It could get awful dicey if someone were to trip it while we are up there."

"I wouldn't worry about any accidents like that." Dr. Jacquier assured him. "The switch is located inside a security box. It has to be unlocked with a key to be accessed. So, it can't be tripped by mistake. There are only two keys. I always hold on to one of them, and the security chief is in charge of the other one. Typically, whichever guards are on duty below are entrusted with his key so they can quickly react in an emergency if I'm not around."

Satisfied with Dr. Jacquier's explanation, the group proceeded up the remaining steps that led to the observation deck. Upon entering the atrium, they got their best view of the egg yet. The only thing separating the group from the egg was a narrow panel of glass, which was the only glass to be found in the facility, the rest was all plastic. Marcus pressed himself right up next to it, trying to get the best view possible. The egg was even more beautiful through the clear glass. The plastic exterior, which the doctor had been talking up so much, was still inferior in some ways. The true colors of the egg were dull from the outside view, but on the inside, it was even more breathtaking. The sensation Marcus had felt earlier was even stronger now that he was so close to the egg, seeing its true details. He put his hand against the glass.

"Phew, it is baking in here already doc, you're saying it would get hotter if the security system was turned on?" Brock asked.

"Considerably so." Dr. Jacquier noted.

"I sure wouldn't want to be in here if that happened." Brock shrugged. He noted a thermometer on the wall. "Geez, it's over a hundred degrees in here."

"Is it really?" Marcus asked surprised. He had not even noticed. He came over and examined the thermometer for himself. Sure enough, that's what it read. "To me it feels more like seventy-two." Just then, he noticed that Brock was beginning to sweat, and he was not. Marcus looked around and saw that almost everyone in the room was sweating. He still didn't even think it felt warm and got a little weirded out. He also noticed Dr. Jacquier staring at him strangely.

"Perhaps it's time to head back outside." Dr. Jacquier announced to the group. "It's pretty hot in here after all."

As the group made their way back down the stairs, Marcus noted an entrance to the actual egg chamber. He saw one of the French scientists go through. It appeared to be restricted access though. There was a warning sign hanging outside the door. Marcus couldn't read it, but the intent was still pretty clear for non-French speakers by the picture on it.

Dr. Jacquier talked for just another minute before wrapping up his welcome tour. The last thing he did was point out the housing unit were the new American arrivals were to quarter for the duration of their stay. As they had arrived late in the day, there was not enough time to do much else before dark. There was just enough time to have dinner and then settle in for the evening. Their work would have to begin tomorrow. As the groups broke up, Marcus again caught Dr. Jacquier watching him. Marcus mostly had a good first impression of the doctor, but his staring was starting to make him uneasy.

…

After dinner, Marcus and Brock headed to their bunk for the night. Almost everyone else was well-ready for a good night's sleep. Marcus aside, the rest of his group were still worn out by their misadventure at sea. He had been the only one to have slept on the drive over to the facility. While everyone else slumbered, Marcus stared up at the ceiling, thinking. His mind was racing and kept coming back to the same thought: he needed to get an even closer look at the egg. He tried to push the thought out of his mind, but as the night pressed on, he became more and more fixated on it. He tossed and turned and wasn't able to rest.

At about eleven-thirty, Marcus finally couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed his shoes and crept out of the room. Brock was out like a light so that much was easy. Once outside of his room, Marcus slipped his shoes on and continued onward carefully. The rest of the building was just as dead to the world. Sneaking out of the bunk house unnoticed was even easier than getting out of his room. The hallways were deserted.

Marcus slipped out the door and into the cool night air. He looked around and found the facility grounds dark, quiet, and empty. Sneaking around proved to be stupidly simple. The only trouble Marcus came across was the guards at the entrance to the egg facility, but even there, he was in luck. One of the guards was just getting up from his station to walk the perimeter of the atrium, and the other one had fallen asleep at his post.

Marcus waited patiently, knowing exactly what he needed to do. Once the first guard had circled around the corner of the atrium, he would make a break for it. He waited just a few seconds longer, and then sprinted across the grass until he got close to the entrance. He slowed once he came upon the other guard sleeping. Marcus tiptoed around him, so as not to alert him. He crept past without difficulty and finally entered the door to the egg chamber.

Once inside, Marcus found the lights were on. The room was empty. At least as best as he could tell. It was difficult to be sure. It was possible that someone was on the other side of the atrium being blocked by the egg. Kind of in the same way that the egg was blocking him out so the guard on the outside could not see him. It didn't bother Marcus much, he doubted anyone would be in there at that time of night. As he looked around, he noticed something odd. There were air-raid sirens posted in three corners of the atrium, and he assumed there must have been an additional speaker located in the corner he could not see.

'What the heck are they planning to do with those?' Marcus thought to himself curiously.

There was no time to dwell on it though. His time was very limited. The atrium might be huge, but at best, Marcus only had a minute or two before the other guard would circle back around. He'd be able to see Marcus through the clear plastic once he got close enough. Marcus could circle around the egg himself to avoid detection, but if the guard remained at his post for the rest of the night, Marcus would be trapped, and eventually discovered. There was only one way in or out of the dome. Best to avoid that scenario.

Marcus wasted no more time, he briskly walked forward until he was right next to the egg. He should have been thinking the egg could crush him if it were to be disturbed, but that was far from his mind. He only had one thought at that point: He had to touch it with his bare hand to see how it felt. It was an impulse he simply couldn't ignore. An irresistible urge was driving him on.

Marcus' hand inched closer and closer, until finally, there was direct contact. The eggshell felt warm, exceptionally warm against his skin. Somehow, he had not expected that. As he stood there just soaking it in, he started to feel something. There was a flash in his mind, and he felt the warmth against his hand begin to flow into the rest of his body. He stood there for what felt like ages while it filled him up. He stopped seeing the egg in front of him and started seeing other things, so many things. Things he didn't understand. Time felt like it stopped, and he could hear music unlike anything he had heard before.

Marcus eventually came back to his senses and had spots of light in his vision once again. They were even brighter than the last time he had seen them. He was suddenly very worried; it had been awhile since his last episode, and he had hoped that they were permanently gone. Clearly, they were not. As he stood there, he realized he had no idea how long he had been there. He might be in danger of being caught.

Marcus understood that it was time to go. He looked out through the side of the atrium and could see that the other guard had not returned yet. He couldn't risk staying inside any longer. He darted to the exit, opening the door carefully. He peaked around the corner to see if the patrolling guard was coming. There was no sign of him, and the other guard was still fast asleep.

It was now or never, Marcus carefully exited the atrium and walked quietly away until he was a good twenty yards away from the sleeping guard. Once he felt a safe distance away, he broke into a full-on sprint until he was back into the safety of the shadows, far away from the atrium. Marcus looked back and saw the other guard just coming around the corner. If he had waited just a few more seconds, he would have been spotted.

Amongst the shadows, Marcus quietly caught his breath and steadied his nerves. He quickly thought to himself what he would say if anyone back at the bunkhouse happened to be awake when he arrived and pressed him about where he had been. Marcus found it strange that it was only now that he was considering this. Why hadn't he thought about this before? He could find no reasonable answer to that question.

He was far more successful with coming up with an excuse for being outside though. It just so happened that the bunkhouse lacked indoor plumbing, as it had been erected somewhat recently, and in a hurry. For that reason, an outhouse had been placed nearby. Marcus could simply say he had the urge to go during the night. It was not so far from the truth. He'd barely be lying if he used that particular phrase.

Feeling confident with an excuse in mind, Marcus began to walk back in the dark. He passed a couple buildings and then came around a corner, which would lead him back to the bunkhouse. As he did, someone struck a match. Marcus stopped in his tracks, taken by surprise. The unknown figure brought the match up to their face and revealed themselves to be none other than Dr. Jacquier. He was carefully lighting a cigarette.

"Nice night for a walk… Marcus... is it?" He asked. Marcus felt like a child who had been caught sneaking down to the kitchen in the middle of the night to steal a cookie from the pantry. By Jacquier's demeanor, it was unclear if he had witnessed Marcus go into the facility or not. He seemed relaxed and aloof.

"It sure is." Marcus replied, forcing a smile, not knowing what else to say. He felt cold sweat forming on the back of his neck.

"A little fresh air does the spirit and body good." Dr. Jacquier went on, though the statement was a little ironic considering he took in a long drag from his cigarette right after. "Well, you should rest up, we'll be starting bright and early tomorrow."

"Yeah, sure thing doctor." Marcus agreed.

With that, Dr. Jacquier simply walked away, and Marcus could hardly believe it. Had Jacquier really not seen what he had just done? Marcus was certain he was about to be busted. Could the doctor really have been out there just for a midnight smoke? Something inside told Marcus that was not the case, but despite that, he somehow felt ok about it.

…

The next morning, Marcus told Brock what he had done while sitting down to breakfast. All things considered, Brock took it pretty well.

"Are you mad?!" Brock choked on his wheat bran. "Do you know what they would have done to you if you had been caught?" He asked but didn't wait for Marcus to answer. "At the very least, you'd be in the brig, probably awaiting a court-martial. And the rest of us would be at the center of an embarrassing international incident. What were you thinking?" He growled.

"It's hard to explain, but I felt compelled to do it." Marcus began.

"You felt compelled to do it?!" Brock grumbled, clearly not impressed with Marcus' explanation. "What the hell kind of answer is that? Where's your self-control? I'll tell you what, I feel compelled to put my boot in your ass. Do you think it would be wise for me to act on that urge?" The vein in Brock's neck was starting to pop out.

"I know it sounds crazy and you're getting agitated Brock but hear me out for a second." Marcus tried to calm him down. "Between the storm and our encounter with Baragon, I've been a nervous wreck lately. You know that I've had issues dealing with it. But here's the crazy thing: From the moment we arrived here, I have started feeling different, somehow better. When I touched the egg, I got a jolt of something. I don't understand it yet, but I'm starting to feel like myself again for the first time in a long time. I know it's selfish, but for me, it was worth the risk of being caught." Brock just stared at Marcus curiously, not sure what to say. He looked like he was thinking something over himself.

"I've felt a little different since we got here too." Brock admitted. "I'm not sure I like it though."

"Gentlemen, better finish up quickly." Dr. Jacquier came up, surprising them. "It's nearly time to get the experiment underway. I wouldn't want you to miss it."

Ten minutes later, everyone was gathered on the stairs on the way to the observation deck. They had elected to start earlier in the morning, so the atrium would be as cool as possible. As the day pressed on, it would only get hotter and hotter inside as the dome soaked up more of the sun's rays. Dr. Jacquier was already chatting everyone up.

"It's funny, we've only just begun to study the egg, and by its mere presence alone, we've been forced to jump into two new areas of technological advances." Dr. Jacquier noted. "Who knows what will happen once we start to understand its secrets." He led the group back into the observation deck within the atrium and began to bring them up to speed about the experiments that had already been performed and what they had learned from them. The short answer could be summarized as very little, save for one important discovery.

The French scientists had conducted countless tests on the eggshell, taking very small scrapings in an effort to determine what was inside. The results were inconclusive. They compared the samples under a microscope to various types of bird, reptile, amphibian, insect, and even fish eggs. They came up empty. Nothing was a match, or even close to a match. They even tried to screen it against the few types of mammals that lay eggs. nothing came of it.

The egg seemed to be wholly unique. One of the things that really set it apart was a new mineral found within it. The scientists concluded it was something that could not be found on the periodic table. Whatever it was, it was strong. In fact, if the whole eggshell had been made up of the element, they never would have been able to scrape off a sample. This, as much as anything, stirred the French Government's interest in continuing their research. The mineral could prove invaluable once they discovered an application for it. That alone could justify their decision to study the egg rather than destroy it.

After their first exciting discovery, the scientists tested the egg in a series of other experiments. The first was to see if it was giving off any radiation, magnetic fields, or conductivity. Each test failed to yield any noteworthy information. A litany of other experiments followed, each failing to produce anything of value.

Dr. Jacquier went into detail of each test extensively, but Marcus stopped paying attention when it became clear that he wasn't going to say anything else useful or interesting. Marcus' eyes and attention shifted to the egg instead. It was just sitting in the atrium waiting for him. He stared at it for a long time before he drifted back towards the conversation going on around him.

"What we are going to do today is a sound test." Dr. Jacquier announced as Marcus' attention shifted back to him. "You will observe the air-raid sirens recently installed inside the atrium." He pointed them out. "We have modified them to act as speakers to amplify a selection of music that has been prepared in advance."

"What is the point of this test?" Admiral Nimitz inquired.

"I'm glad you asked." Dr. Jacquier replied. "All of this probably seems strange, right? Why would men of science, being sound of mind, go as far as to hold a private opera for an overgrown chicken egg, you might be asking yourself? Well, the answer is slightly more complex than my love for classical music." He jested, getting a mixed response from the crowd. "Anyhow." He went on. "The fact of the matter is there are factions within my government that feel that we should not be expending any more of our country's resources on this project until we can, at the very least, confirm that there is life dwelling within the egg." Dr. Jacquier explained. "So far our guest has been quite bashful about making its presence known. There have been precious few clues about what lurks inside, if anything at all. It could be a dud, but we certainly can't do the old farmer's trick of putting the egg in a glass of water to see if it will float. So, we must find another way to confirm whether we are dealing with a living organism or not."

Dr. Jacquier paused, and the crowd listened intently, waiting to see what his answer would be.

"As luck would have it, a potential solution to our problem may have landed in our laps." Dr. Jacquier continued. "A few days ago, Dr. Dellacqua was in the atrium compiling his experimental notes and happened to be listening to his new record player to help pass the time. As he was writing, something remarkable happened. He thought he noted movement within the egg. Unfortunately, no one else was around to see or hear it, and there was no recording equipment on hand at the time to catch it either. While Dr. Dellacqua's word is enough for me, it's sadly not good enough for those dissenters in the government who would like to see this project shut down. They demand something a little more concrete. Thus, our goal today is to correct that oversight and provide them with some hard evidence. To accomplish that goal, we plan to provoke a response and reproduce the movement, but this time with recording equipment in place to prove our claim. To that end, we have placed sensitive seismic equipment near the base of the egg. It will detect the slightest vibrations, and thus, if there is any reaction today, we will be able to record it." Some of the members of the team looked impressed, while others like Brock thought the doctor had drunk too much wine.

"Why would it respond to music?" Someone near the front asked.

"Maybe it just doesn't like crusty old French composers, and that was the only way it could protest." Brock mused and Marcus snickered. The pair were far enough away that the rest of the group didn't hear them. Neither of them heard the doctor's actual answer to the question.

The group settled down, and Dr. Jacquier turned to a control panel on the table overlooking the atrium to begin the experiment. He flipped a switch and music began to softly creep out from the speakers. There was a small speaker in the observation deck so they could all hear it too. Marcus noted that the music wasn't anything special. It was simple, light, and easy on the ears. It was just the sort of thing a rich snob would play in the background of a stuffy high-class party. It was boring and bland, but not offensive.

The music went on at some length, the sound filling up the atrium while the observers above watched the egg, waiting to see if there was any response. The flatlined readout on the seismograph indicated that there was none. It would only occasionally bob with the more bombastic parts of the music, but nothing beyond that. If nothing else, it at least showed how sensitive the seismograph was. If the equipment could detect the music, then it could certainly detect any movement from the egg.

The first song on the record came and went uneventfully. Then the second song began. From the moment it started, Marcus identified several odd things about it. For starters, the second piece of music was not by the same composer as the first. The second piece was from a well-known musician, while the first piece had not been. That meant that the record they were listening to had been spliced together, and not just a record they had pulled from one of the scientists' personal collections. Something about that made Marcus feel uneasy. If their goal was to produce similar results as before, wouldn't it stand to reason to use the same music Dr. Dellacqua had been listening to?

Marcus looked over to Dr. Jacquier to see how he was reacting to the musical selection. He too looked a little troubled at that point, or at least a little distracted. It was hard to tell which. Could it be that this was not the record he had chosen? If it wasn't, it didn't stop him from proceeding forward with the test. Dr. Jacquier allowed the music to continue to play unabated. It was at that point Marcus noticed the second thing that bothered him. The main melody of the song had started out exactly as Marcus remembered it, but before long, some rogue notes crept into it that didn't belong. As he listened more, he realized they were not just random notes thrown in, but instead belonged to a second song that was beginning to play faintly under the main score. It was very strange.

Marcus again looked around to read the room. This time, he seemed to be the only person reacting to it. If anyone else was hearing the underscore, there were no signs of it on any of their faces. Everyone appeared to be completely oblivious to it. Even Dr. Jacquier no longer looked concerned as he had before. As Marcus stood there befuddled, he realized he recognized the song. He remembered hearing it while he was touching the egg the night before. He might have even been hearing it on a subconscious level prior to that. What was it, and why was he hearing it? Did anyone else notice it?

"Do you hear that?" Marcus asked Brock.

"Hear what, the music?" Brock asked back. "Of course I hear it, I'm not deaf."

"No, I mean the underscore." Marcus clarified. Brock only looked at him puzzled.

"Don't know what you are talking about." Brock shook his head. "All I hear is some dusty old classic."

Williams had overheard the conversation and shook his head, no, as well when Marcus looked to him. Marcus started to wonder if he was the only one hearing it. Could it all just be in his head? He was starting to feel anxious. Almost on cue, the bright yellow spots that had been plaguing Marcus since hitting his head started creeping back into his vision. It made him feel even less confident about what he was hearing. He was afraid to say anything else, so he kept quiet.

"Movement!" One of the scientists monitoring the seismograph announced to the group, pulling Marcus away from his inner thoughts.

Everyone in the observation deck crowded around the paper readout. There were clear pulses of movement scratched into the paper. As they watched, it became obvious that the pulses were not just artifacts caused by the music playing. There was a sense of joy amongst the French scientists. While they had only accomplished a modest goal, it was one of the first clear successes they had managed to achieve. They had proven that there was indeed life residing within the egg. Any concerns over funding problems they might have encountered going forward could safely be put to rest.

Marcus could see the pulses on the seismograph were regular and in unison with the melody of the underlying song no one else was hearing. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He got the sense that something was about to happen. The other men around him were carrying on, blissfully unaware of whatever subtle warning Marcus was picking up on. The readings on the seismograph were steadily getting stronger, but so very gradually at first, that no one noticed them. It went on like that for a few moments, very slowly building, until there was an abrupt shudder strong enough that all the men in the observation deck stopped and took notice. The seismograph spiked with the tremor and then steadied again.

"Maybe you should shut the music off now doctor." Admiral Nimitz suggested. The enthusiasm in the room had quickly died down.

"Yes, I think we have what we need already." Dr. Jacquier agreed and flipped the switch off. The music died away, but the pulses of movement from the egg did not. If anything, they only grew stronger. The scientists looked worried, starting to feel the physical movement of the regular pulses. Marcus noted one of them starting to sweat, even though the temperature in the room was still only in the seventies.

A second intense tremor shook the observation room, and at that point, everyone inside recognized they were in trouble. Several of the scientists bolted for the door to the stairwell. Dr. Jacquier, Admiral Nimitz, Lieutenant-Commander Williams, Sgt. Brock, Marcus, and a few of the other bolder scientists remained inside. At about that time, they actually witnessed the egg physically move within the atrium. That was the moment Admiral Nimitz realized they had gone beyond the point of no return.

"Dr. Jacquier, you need to activate the failsafe." Admiral Nimitz recommended.

Dr. Jacquier nodded in agreement and fumbled around in his pocket for the key to the security box which housed the microwave switch. After several tense seconds, he finally was able to locate the key and used it to unlock the box.

"The rest of you need to get out of here." Dr. Jacquier warned. "Once I pull the switch, the system will begin to activate. There is only a slight delay built into the generators before they start running. The machinery merely gives the person starting the system thirty seconds to get clear of the atrium before it starts cooking everything inside along with the egg."

With that, the doctor finished opening the box and discovered that the wires connecting the switch to the rest of the system had been cut. It was no accident. Someone had intentionally sabotaged the security system. The egg shifted off of its axis and rolled into the side of the atrium, knocking everyone still in the observation deck off their feet and destabilizing the structure. Everyone looked up to see that the eggshell had cracked, and whatever was inside was starting to push its way out.

"Shit, here we go again!" Brock cursed, recognizing they needed to move quickly. "Come on everybody, we have to get out of here now! He prioritized helping Admiral Nimitz to his feet and ushering him towards the stairs to escape. Dr. Jacquier was right behind them, abandoning the security system.

Marcus meanwhile had not moved a muscle to escape. He'd once again become fixated on the egg, watching as it hatched. The creature was still struggling, trying to burst forth from its shell. Its body collided with the ceiling, and the already damaged atrium became even more unstable.

"Marcus, what are you doing?!" Brock shouted at him. "You need to get out of there!" Marcus wasn't hearing him though. His back was to Brock, so he didn't see him either. One of the support beams above gave way and came crashing down just feet away from where Marcus stood. He wasn't even aware of it.

Begrudgingly, Brock knew he had to leave Marcus behind. There was too much dangerous debris falling between them, and his first duty was to ensure that the Admiral made it out alive. He couldn't afford to wait any longer to do it. The creature was quickly collapsing the atrium as it hatched. Brock escaped down the stairwell with the VIPs in tow.

The fresh hatchling was still trying to free itself from the confines of its shell. All the time, Marcus was standing there like a statue watching it. Little by little, what was left of the atrium was smashed and fell apart as the creature bumped into it. There simply wasn't enough space for it to move around without tearing the facility apart. After most of the atrium was already demolished, the creature successfully freed itself and looked around to explore its new surroundings. It vaguely resembled a brown caterpillar with small blue eyes. It had a pair of tiny antennae on both sides of its mandibles, which twitched as it moved its bulbous head around. Its round body was segmented into seventeen individual sections.

The hatchling spotted Marcus standing on the platform, one of the few places where the original structure had remained intact. In a curious sort of way, its head drew in close to Marcus. The monster came within mere yards of the glass that separated them. It looked at Marcus for a moment with its small blue eyes before opening its mouth and squeaking at him. Luckily for Marcus, the glass was thick and still intact, otherwise the decibel level would have deafened him at that range. Even with the protection, he still was forced to cover his ears from the enormous level of sound bleeding through the glass. The monster's call was extremely high-pitched and shrill.

The sound died down and the monster just sat there looking at him. Marcus was not a particularly spiritual man, but in the presence of this creature, he felt an overwhelming sensation running through his body. A power akin to that of a God. An emotional tear ran down his face. It was the closest thing he had ever had to a religious experience. Marcus knew this being was immensely powerful, but he also knew he was not in danger. There was no notion of it harming him. The creature drew back slowly, and then carefully turned its segmented body to move out of the wrecked atrium. As it crawled through the rest of the facility, it left all the remaining buildings untouched. In fact, through the whole incident, not a single person had been killed or even injured. That was remarkable considering the track record for every other encounter with a Kaiju thus far.

Marcus only watched as the creature gradually disappeared into the French countryside. Whilst he stood there fixated, a metal hatch opened up behind him, and Dr. Jacquier crawled out of it. Marcus turned to face him and saw a metal latter inside the crawl space.

"Well… I'll be, you are still alive." Dr. Jacquier smiled. "That is certainly curious. I don't think it's luck either. I have a hunch about it."

"Oh… and what is that?" Marcus asked.

"I know you know someone sabotaged the failsafe, any idea who might have done that?" Dr. Jacquier inquired. Marcus presumed he knew where the doctor was going with his question, and prepared himself for what he figured would come next.

"Why don't you tell me what your theory is doctor." Marcus invited.

"Oh, it's actually quite simple really." Dr. Jacquier began. He reached deep into the pocket of his lab coat and began to pull something out. Marcus was expecting it to be a weapon but was shocked when he realized what it actually was. The doctor had instead pulled out a pair of wire cutters. "I did it." He smiled at Marcus, who could only stare back at him baffled.

"You did it...?" Marcus finally asked.

"You must be wondering why." Dr. Jacquier put the clippers safely back in his pocket. "And also, why would I tell you about it? I mean, after all, you could turn me in, right?" He mused. "Well, I know for a fact that you won't." He said confidently. "How could I know that?" He posed the question. "Well, it's actually really simple, I know you hear the music too." His eyes narrowed more seriously on Marcus. "It called to you, like it called to me." The statement hit Marcus like a ton of bricks. At once, he realized that perhaps he wasn't crazy after all, though maybe the doctor still was. "We both know destroying the egg would have been a mistake. The world is a far better place with the creature in it."

"Mothra." Marcus corrected him, speaking almost out of instinct.

"What?" Dr. Jacquier asked, caught slightly off guard.

"Her name is Mothra." Marcus answered. "Somehow, I know that."

"Ah, I see I was right about you." Dr. Jacquier smiled even wider. "She doesn't speak to everyone for some reason. But she can whisper to us when she wants to. That's how I knew the music would work. I could hear it in my head. I knew if I could just get it recorded, and then play it, she would hatch. The others couldn't know about it, they would have tried to stop me. But it's too late for that now. She's awake."

Marcus sat there processing the situation, trying to decide if he was in good company or not. A lot of the things Dr. Jaquier was saying made sense to him, but he was still a little uneasy about him. The doctor seemed a little unhinged. Marcus wondered if working in such close proximity to the egg for so long had an adverse effect on him. And if that proved to be the case, would it start affecting him in a similar way over time?"

"What happens now?" Marcus asked, trying to push those thoughts from his mind.

"Well, first and foremost, we have to get down from here." Dr. Jacquier laughed. "I just wanted to talk to you alone first. Make sure you were right in the head." He smirked in an unsettling sort of way. "Let's rejoin the others now, shall we?"

Not having much other choice, Marcus agreed. He let the doctor go down the ladder first and then followed behind him. He did not want the doctor above him while they were making their descent. Upon emerging from the secret entrance the doctor had used to reach him, they found the rest of the party waiting for them. Brock was the first to spot them and made a B-line towards Marcus.

"What were you doing up there?!" Brock began. "You can't afford to freeze up like that!"

"I didn't." Marcus replied, confused. Brock had mistaken Marcus' fixation for fear, and still didn't recognize it for what it was. He thought Marcus was still in shock.

"If you lose your head like that out on a battlefield, you will die! Your buddy next to you will die! Your whole unit will die!" Brock pressed his point home. "Do you understand?!"

"Brock, I'm telling you I was in total control the whole time up there." Marcus assured him. Brock looked into Marcus' eyes, and suddenly wasn't sure of himself anymore.

"Maybe it would be best if we sent you back to the ship for the time being." Brock grunted.

"Actually, I would very much like it if Marcus remained amongst us." Dr. Jacquier cut in. "I feel like he could be very useful indeed."

"How?" Brock asked, perplexed.

"Well for starters, he has come up with a very fitting name for our little beastie." Dr. Jacquier answered. Brock waited for him to say he was joking, but he never did.

"I think you are both cracked!" Brock surrendered, throwing up his hands.

…

In the Northern Pacific, the situation was tenuous. Japanese and Russian ships were still being hit regularly by the Rodans. The two governments still harbored a lot of enmity between them, and so they refused to put aside their differences and coordinate with each other. The Japanese Government thought if they simply routed their merchant freighters into the outer shipping lanes, they might be okay. But they were wrong. Five vessels had been hit in the space of a week.

Only after those civilian losses, the American Government finally chose to share Marcus' theory about the Rodans finding at least some of their targets by following radio signals. They only revealed that information to the Japanese though, and not the Russians. With that knowledge, Japanese shipping in the area was suspended entirely. However, the Japanese still wanted to be able to confirm that the information they had been given was accurate. The hypothesis needed to be put to the test.

Wheels started turning in the Japanese government, and a special mission was set in motion. Given the state of morale in the Imperial Japanese Navy following their devastating defeat, they decided it would be prudent to ask for volunteers for the potentially dangerous mission, rather than just assigning someone to it. They sent out a call for pilots, and Akira was the first to put forth his name. Given his prior experience with the Rodans, he was an obvious choice, and was readily accepted to lead the mission. Despite the issues with morale, other brave airmen quickly followed Akira's example and a crew was rapidly coming together.

The mission was pretty straightforward. It was simple enough for Japanese engineers to put together a device that would transmit a strong radio signal to act as a lure. The device would be placed inside the durable casing of a waterproof buoy and loaded into a long-range bomber. The bomber would fly the buoy out to a Japanese outpost which was located on an island in the Northern Pacific and drop the device into the nearby ocean. The outpost had an observation bunker and an airstrip. The bomber would easily be able to make it to the base, drop the device within visual range, land to refuel, and then return home. While they were returning, the radio buoy could be activated from remote, and the men on the island could observe to see if the Rodans came to investigate. The island was far enough away from the Rodan's new territory that the Japanese could be reasonably certain that if the monsters did appear on location, it would be due to the presence of the device and not because of some other coincidence.

…

After several hours of flying, Akira and his crew were finally arriving at the remote island base. It had taken Akira a while to get used to the controls of a bomber. The aircraft was incredibly sluggish and slow compared to the fighters he was used to flying. For obvious reasons, radio silence was being strictly enforced during the mission.

As they approached the island, Akira could see a marker left in the water by the island's garrison. That was their beacon. Where the radio buoy was to be dropped. Akira gave the necessary orders to his men and the bomb bay doors opened. Meanwhile, he corrected course, lining the plane up with the target. He slowed the aircraft to a crawl as they got over the marker. A lever was pulled, and the buoy dropped away falling towards the water. It splashed down and Akira only hoped it would stay afloat. It had been a very long trip, and he didn't want to have to make it a second time if something went wrong. Thankfully, the buoy bobbed right back up to the surface.

Satisfied with that, Akira banked the bomber and made a pass over the island. The island was a tiny spec of land, and he could see why its only strategic value was as an observation post. Prior to the Rodans making their existence known, the base was being used to keep an eye out for the Soviet Pacific Fleet.

Akira eventually spotted the makeshift airstrip that had been cut out of the jungle and came in for a landing. Once the plane came to a stop, ground crews came running out to begin the refueling process. Akira assured them there was no reason to rush. Akira was quickly growing into a cautious man and had decided he did not want his plane in the sky anywhere near the island while the buoy was transmitting.

Instead, he asked the ground crew to hide the bomber under the canopy of trees. Meanwhile, his men would enter the bunker and observe the buoy while the test was being conducted. The garrison commander gave Akira a funny look when he realized he was deviating from their orders. However, he didn't dare argue. They might be in different branches of service, but the garrison commander was still clearly outranked by Akira, and it would not be his career that suffered if the higher-ups took issue with Akira altering their plans.

With everything now in place, they activated the radio buoy and hunkered down to wait. Hours passed with nothing to do but play cards and talk. Akira quickly learned that the men of the garrison weren't very excited about their assignment. It was boring enough on the island to begin with, but the Russian Fleet they were meant to be monitoring had pulled out when the Rodans moved in. So, there wasn't much of a reason for them to be there anymore.

The soldiers on the island would much rather have been with the main army during the invasion of China. Having known soldiers who were part of the fighting on the mainland, Akira was certain they would feel differently after witnessing a month of the carnage that was the Sino-Japanese War. It was a brutal affair, not glorious or honorable as the propaganda films would have them believe. Akira was glad he only ever saw that war from the sky.

The day dragged on without any activity, but just when everyone was about ready to call the mission a wash, a noise became audible within the bunker. Akira sprang up, instantly recognizing it as the whistle the Rodans made when they were soaring in flight. Everyone within the bunker ran to the small opening to see out, and sure enough, one of the Rodans was splashing down into the shallow waters near the buoy. The monster seemed confused, having found no target to attack. The buoy at its feet was so small that it escaped its notice. Watching the monster look around confused was all the convincing Akira needed. The test had been a success. He deactivated the radio buoy, assuming the monster would leave, having no signal to keep its attention anymore. Except it didn't leave.

The monster remained idle in the water for a moment. Then the creature looked at the island and decided to investigate it. It only took Rodan a few flaps of his wings to bring him to the island. The inexperienced soldiers in the bunker just about shit themselves as the monster passed over them. They lost track of Rodan as he flew over the bunker, but the monster must have landed somewhere nearby. The interior of their hiding place seemed to bend under the pressure of its weight. Bits of dirt and sand fell from the ceiling. Luckily for them, Rodan missed landing directly on them, but they could hear the monster moving around. Each of its steps brought more dirt down on them and they listened and waited.

Finally, they heard Rodan let out an enormous cackling roar and the creature took flight. It had lost interest in the seemingly empty island. Just to be safe, Akira insisted that they wait a few minutes down in the bunker before venturing out. When he was satisfied it was clear, the soldiers crept out of their hiding place. Some of the palm trees in the area had been knocked down, but otherwise, there was no serious damage to the base itself. The bomber had also not been discovered. Akira's crew would be able to return home with a small victory.

…

In a vineyard in Southern France, a day's work was just coming to an end. The winery was being overseen by Andre, the oldest son in a long line of viticulturists. His parents were away for the day, and he was left in charge. There wasn't much to it really, he just had to keep an eye on the workers to ensure they didn't drive away with a truckload of grapes. Given the good working relationship between his parents and their farmhands, it was not likely to be an issue anyways.

Andre was perhaps a little too pampered by his parents due to their recent successes. He didn't like to get his own hands dirty and preferred to supervise the labor. His mother had a bad habit of overindulging his whims. As a result, he spent less and less time in the fields as he got older. He had come to see performing manual labor as below his station in life. The work was going well despite this.

The grapes had just become ripe, and it had been a perfect morning. The pickers had gotten a lot of work done. The field in the first section had nearly been completely harvested and the resulting spoils were being loaded into the storehouse for safe keeping. The rest of the harvest could wait until tomorrow. Andre hoped his parents would be pleased that he had managed to wrap up the whole first section of the job in their absence. Once his father was back, they could begin to process the grapes while the fieldworkers continued to gather the rest of the crop. Andre was looking forward to taking the first steps towards turning the grapes into fine wine. He was still young but had already developed a distinguished palate for wines. His family produced one of the best.

Andre stood on the porch of the manor-house and looked out over the green fields. Someday it would all be his. His family had grown rich over the years. Wineries were a very lucrative business, and he was eager to get his own taste of fortune. As Andre continued to marvel at his family's legacy, he became aware of a sound. It was so faint that he wasn't even certain he was really hearing it. He dismissed it as his imagination until he heard it a second time. Nearby, he saw one of the fieldhands just starting to unload the first few barrels of grapes from the work truck.

"Michael, come over here." He called over to the worker.

"What can I do for you, boss?" Michael asked as he got close.

"Shhh... did you hear that just now?" Andre tried to quiet him down, waving his hand. The noise had come back at the exact moment Michael had started to speak, and it was gone again just as fast.

"Uh... no." Michael replied. "Hear what?"

"Well, it's gone now, but wait here a minute and listen with me." Andre said frustrated. The two men just sat there second by second, waiting. Finally, Andre heard it again. "There, do you hear that?!" Andre asked. "It was louder this time."

"No boss." Michael replied. Andre frowned at him. Michael was a man in his late fifties and his hearing was starting to fade. It probably didn't help that the noise was of a higher tone. Higher frequencies were typically the first ones to go with age. Andre on the other hand was only nineteen, so his hearing was still perfect. The noise came again. This time it was loud enough for even Michael to notice it.

"I think I heard it that time boss, what is it?" Michael asked.

"I haven't got the slightest idea." Andre admitted. "I've never heard anything like that before, but it's getting louder. We aren't having trouble with the processing machines again, are we?"

"Not that I'm aware of." Michael answered. "They were checked yesterday and running just fine at that point."

"It's so odd, where is that sound coming from?" Andre grimaced. "It's like a squeaking sound, right?"

"Yeah, that's about right." Michael agreed. "Don't sound like machinery though." The two men stood there listening until they heard it again, this time it sounded significantly louder than before.

"What the hell is that?" Andre asked, starting to get a little worried. It was about that time, he realized something was very wrong. He also started to feel a vibration under his feet.

"Is it an earthquake?" Michael asked.

"I don't know, but just to be on the safe side, I think you'd better tell the rest of the workers to get out of the storehouse." Andre warned. "That building is old, and I doubt it will hold up well under strain."

With that, Michael ran down as quickly as he could. The other fieldworkers were already starting to come out of the storehouse to investigate the noise and rumbling. Andre could hear Michael shouting to them, and the group of workers rapidly poured out of the building. Panic was starting to spread as the squeaking noise had grown into a roar that was echoing throughout the valley of the vineyard.

Andre saw some of the workers pointing to the hill that overlooked the valley. He turned to have a look for himself and saw a dark mass cresting the slope. It just looked like a lump moving behind the rise at first. Then it started to grow as more of it became visible moving over the hill. Andre was at a loss for words. The thing coming over the slope appeared to be some type of gigantic brown worm. The creature was knocking over trees as it made its way down the hill and into the valley. It crawled along remarkably quick for a worm, and it soon found its way to the edge of the vineyard. Once there, it began to devour the field one line at a time.

Andre watched as vines were ravaged. The creature was meticulously picking the rows apart. Its voracious appetite seemed boundless. Vines were disappearing at an alarming rate. The grapes, leaves, and even the stems were all consumed. Nothing was left after the gigantic worm was done. Section by section, the fields were stripped bare. Andre just stood in utter shock as his family's livelihood was vanishing before his very eyes. Finally, Michael came up and shook his shoulder, bringing him back to conscious thought. Andre spared Michael a glance before running into the house and grabbing a rifle.

Andre came back out again and began shooting at the monstrous worm. He fired and fired with no discernable effect. He reloaded his weapon for a second time and began again. Still, the creature continued onward unconcerned. Andre began to despair, coming to realize his efforts were in vain. His family's business that had survived for generations through droughts and wars, was going to die on his watch, and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it.

Andre reloaded his rifle for a third time and began firing once again. Tears were running down his face. He already knew it was a pointless effort, but continued to fire anyway until his gun was out of ammo. He did it for no other reason than to simply avoid having to stand there and watch it happen.

…

In Germany, the Wehrmacht was once again closing in on Varan. The Luftwaffe had been keeping tabs on the monster but keeping their distance. In the immediate aftermath of the bridge's destruction, they had launched a second air assault that didn't do any better than the first, despite having a much greater amount of aircraft at their disposal. Planes were deemed ineffective against Varan and had been relegated to a reconnaissance role instead.

It had taken twenty-four hours for the ground forces to catch up with the monster, but they had been reinforced in the meantime. The Germans felt confident they would be able to inflict damage with the heavier artillery they were bringing in. The Germans had chased Varan to the foot of a mountain range, where he had stopped to sleep. They felt as though they finally had the monster cornered. The heavy artillery had been positioned and the tanks were moving into ready positions. All the pieces were in place, a major assault was imminent.

Reinhart and Fritz had stayed with the tanks the whole time, having to regroup, refuel, and find another bridge to cross the river. The pair had taken turns driving, allowing the other to get some sleep along the way. They would take no part in the battle but had taken position on a mountain road near the Haltrechtshier Dam. It gave them a perfect view of the looming confrontation that was about to take place below. As it turned out, they didn't have to wait very long.

The artillery opened fire and tore up the ground around Varan, rousing the monster from its slumber. With the attack underway, the tanks charged in and added their fire power to the barrage. The artillery was doing well. They were able to hit Varan frequently and accurately. For the first time, Varan was showing signs of pain when a shell hit him in the lightly armored areas of his body. He roared angrily and didn't try to run this time. Enraged, Varan actually charged the German lines. This took them by surprise. The monster had chosen to retreat in every single instance he was attacked, up until that moment.

The charging tanks suddenly found themselves at Varan's feet, and several of them were crushed in rapid succession by his claws. The surviving crews backpedaled as quickly as they could. They aimed their guns at the monster's face, trying to obscure his vision to buy themselves time to escape. They were partially successful. Some of the shells were on target, forcing Varan to protect his eyes by blinking his transparent lids down over them. The smoke resulting from the explosions did make it harder for Varan to locate targets for a few seconds. It also gave the German artillery just enough time to retrain their cannons and resume their bombardment. At close range, the big guns caused more than just a little discomfort for Varan, and the monster was forced to back off.

The intensity of the barrage was increasing in frequency and accuracy as the artillery crews were starting to get into a rhythm, and the gunners were learning to make minor adjustments to their aim through repetition. Varan seemed to understand that the momentum of the fight was swinging against him. If he didn't do something dramatic soon, he was going to be in trouble.

Varan crouched down and then launched himself into the air, aiming for a nearby cliff. The monster misjudged the distance though, and he fell a little short. The sudden jolt of speed did give Varan a short reprieve from the cannon fire though, and the monster began to climb up the steep hill. Tanks below rushed forward again to keep the pressure up, while the cannon crews were forced to reposition their guns.

From his vantage point, Reinhart could see what Varan was up to. The monster was climbing the cliff to make it into the relative safety of the water beyond the dam. Rainfall had been particularly heavy that month, and the water beyond the dam was quite deep at that point. If Varan was able to get into the water, the artillery would be useless. The monster would be able to wait until dark and could try to slip away later in the night. After all the chasing they'd already done, the Germans would once again be trying to play catch up with the monster.

Suddenly, it looked as though the momentum of the battle might turn once again. The artillery was once more bringing down heavy fire on Varan. Ironically, the shells that were on target, were landing on Varan's armored back as he climbed, bouncing off harmlessly, while the missing shells were exploding against the rockface, which was destabilizing the soil the monster was desperately clinging onto.

Reinhart could see that Varan was starting to lose his footing. He was struggling to find a place above him that was solid enough to hold his weight. The monster was a sitting duck, not able to progress any further up the steep ridge. It was just a matter of time before the artillery would be able to blow him off his perch. It looked like Varan was just moments from rolling down the jagged rock face.

Sadly, this was not to be though. Again, in desperation, Varan used his powerful hindlegs to launch himself upwards. He managed to get just enough distance to find a sturdier perch to continue climbing. This time, the monster was only a few dozen yards away from the top, which was little trouble for him to traverse before the artillery had a chance to reacquire him.

At last, Varan made it to the top. It looked as though he was about to pull off another miraculous escape. Only, he didn't move. Instead, Varan just sat up there, looking down at the men of the Wehrmacht. The Germans once again were not able to immediately pursue him without taking a significant detour. Finally, the monster began to turn, but not to leave. Instead, Varan marched forward towards Fritz and Reinhart's truck on the opposite side of the Dam.

Upon reaching the boundary of the dam, Varan dove into the water and disappeared below. Seconds later, the dam cracked from the monster ramming his spiked head into it. Reinhart could tell, because one of Varan's horns managed to puncture all the way through the thick cement wall. The horn retracted, allowing a spout of water to begin flowing through. The monster repeated the attack on a different section of the dam with similar results. Then a third time. It quickly became clear to the forces below what was about to happen. Reinhart and Fritz could only watch helplessly.

The fourth attack was finally more than the dam could take. It was already in shambles from the previous impacts. When Varan slammed into the dam for the fourth and final time, the whole structure gave way under the pressure. Varan, huge chucks of cement that had been part of the dam, and millions upon millions of gallons of water poured down on the German forces below.

Reinhart saw the whole thing from his perch. One by one, soldiers and their machines were swallowed by the raging flood waters. Tanks were engulfed and their crews submerged under twenty feet of water. Unable to escape their panzers, the soldiers had to live out their last terrifying moments within the cramped war machines, slowly drowning. Trucks filled with troops that were trying to escape were swept clean off the road by the crushing waves. All of the ground forces in the valley were wiped out in mere seconds, an entire German army had been obliterated.

That was bad, but what came next was worse. The flood waters didn't stop in the valley. Without the dam to hold back the record amount of rainfall, it continued downstream northward and proceeded to washout every bridge and flood every town it encountered along the way. Dikes, levees, and small dams were overwhelmed by the massive amount of water and also gave way. The destruction, thus, spread even further. Magdeburg, Wittenburg, Luneburg, and finally Hamburg were all overwhelmed by the flooding, causing immense damage to the cities, and killing thousands of German civilians in the process. Bodies of the victims floated in the flooded streets, haunting the survivors.

The damage was not just limited to urban areas either. In the German countryside, crops were washed out, and countless acres of rich farmland were ruined by the salt and sand that were spread in the wake of the water. The sediment would render those lands unusable for years to follow. Livestock were drowned in their pens unable to escape. Roads were washed away too, which made getting aid to people in need even harder.

The widespread devastation was the worst natural and military disaster in German history. It was a knockout punch for Varan. Any immediate threat the Wehrmacht had posed to him was now gone. The German army still had other military units all over the country, but nothing else nearby. The forces that were close would be caught up in disaster relief operations. From that point forward, their first concern would be to help and protect their people from the ecological fallout the monster had created. Thus, Varan was mostly free to roam as he pleased. The Luftwaffe could still harass him, but that's about all they could do.

Having won the day, Varan waded his way through the water and began to move westward entirely unopposed.