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").

16. Chapter 16: What You Leave Behind

Chapter 16: What you Leave Behind.

Penwood descended the stairs, bringing him into the records room within the basement of the Pentagon. It was quiet. No sign of Admiral Marcus, which was strange. The old man had regularly beaten him down there since they had started their project together. Penwood wandered through the dark columns of casefiles, looking down the aisles to see if the admiral was already looking for their next folder to compile into the report. Still, nothing to be found.

Penwood grunted and figured that he must have simply beaten Marcus in that morning. However, when he went to his desk, Penwood discovered that he was quite wrong in his assumption. There, he found an envelope with his name on it, and a stack of case files under it. He opened the letter and found a wad of hundred-dollar bills. Penwood was shocked. It was a significant amount of cash. Under the money, he also found a letter. It read:

'Penwood,

I regret to say that I will not be able to continue with the project. The reasons why should become clear in time. I hope you understand. I've been impressed with your dedication to this endeavor and entrust the ongoing work to your capable hands. Enclosed is some money for your services. I have requisitioned one-thousand dollars a month out of my research pool to pay for any expenses you may encounter until the report is complete. Use it in any way you see fit, a small thank you in advance for soldiering on alone. I just cannot bring myself to press on.

-Admiral Marcus Ryan.'

Penwood stood there for a moment thinking before he placed the money back inside the envelope. He took the letter and then went upstairs. He briskly walked to Admiral Ryan's office. A secretary intercepted Penwood along the way.

"Can I help you?" She asked warmly.

"Is Admiral Ryan in?" Penwood replied. "I need to speak with him."

"Oh, I don't think he is." She answered. "I believe he took some leave."

"Are you sure?" He asked curiously.

"Well, that's what I was told." She replied, suddenly uncertain. "I suppose I could check to see if he already left." The secretary opened the door to Marcus' office and found that the lights were off, and his desk was empty. Penwood could see it from over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, it looks like you missed him. Would you like me to take down a message for you?"

"That's ok, I guess I'll try to catch the Admiral another time." Penwood answered. He retired back down to the records room. Upon arrival, he sat down behind his desk and put the envelope inside the top drawer. Penwood then eyed the tall stack of casefiles and took the top folder off the pile and began to read it. The title was:

'The Mystery Surrounding the Attack on the Italian Fleet.'

...

Marcus, Admiral Nimitz, Brock, and Lt. Commander Williams returned to the USS Reeves in southern France. The destroyer had completed its repairs and was ready to transport them to Taranto Naval Base in Italy to join up with the international fleet that was gathering there.

Marcus was less than thrilled with the prospect of going back aboard the Reeves again. His last voyage on her as a passenger was a truly unique experience that would stand out in his memory in a lifetime that would prove to be full of misadventures. It was evident that Captain Shack's skill as a commander had advanced very little in their time apart. He was still prone to foolish mistakes when he was nervous or distracted.

The journey started off quietly enough. The Reeves sailed down the coastline of France for a few hours before setting course out into the open ocean. This time, there were no tidal waves or storms to greet them. Instead, the waters of the Mediterranean were relatively calm. Thankfully, Captain Shack did not try to impress Admiral Nimitz, and therefore, managed to avoid any embarrassing or dangerous situations. The captain simply focused his efforts on getting the Reeves to the rendezvous point without incident. A large task force from the Atlantic Fleet was meant to meet them there, but they had a head start, and thus were likely to arrive ahead of their reinforcements.

While aboard the Reeves, Marcus and Brock had no official duties, as they were still just part of Nimitz's entourage. The only standing order the admiral gave them during the journey was to stay out of trouble. For the most part, they did just that. Brock and Smitty traded stories while Marcus mostly preferred to listen. Between the two veterans, there was a treasure trove of experience.

About the time the Reeves had reached Italian waters, news reached the destroyer about the battle in Egypt between the British, Italians, Kameras, and Mothra. The British had taken the biggest beating of all the combatants, but overall, had not sustained as many losses compared to previous encounters with Kaiju. Mothra had arrived on scene before Kameras could inflict too much damage.

Meanwhile, Kameras had been driven back into the ocean and had not been sighted again since. It marked the second time in as many weeks that Mothra had neutralized another monster, seemingly banishing each of them beneath the waves. This had an interesting effect on how she was perceived by the governments of the world, and people in general. Mothra was now seen more as a friend than foe, though she was still looked on with a healthy bit of skepticism by some.

On her way to attack Kameras, Mothra had apparently flown over Eastern Europe to avoid being spotted on radar. She also was flying too high up to be seen by the naked eye. This demonstrated that she was more intelligent than the average kaiju. That was a fact that made some people feel very optimistic, while others were terrified by the implications it presented. It was just easier for some folks to see all the giant monsters as big dumb brutes.

Brock and Smitty were discussing that very topic in the crew quarters. Marcus mostly just listened, not wanting to tip his hand any more than he had to. They concluded that there just was not enough evidence one way or the other to decide if Mothra was a friend or foe, and caution was warranted where she was concerned. Lt. Commander Williams joined them about the time the conversation wrapped up.

"Gentlemen, we can see the Italian coastline now if any of you care to look." Williams reported. "We still have a couple of days of sailing before we hit port though. Brock, your family came from Italy originally, right?"

"Yep, my great-grandpappy came over on a boat years ago." Brock replied proudly, chewing on a cigar. "Couldn't say as to exactly when though."

"Does your family honor many Italian traditions?" Marcus asked.

"Well... I like the food." Brock answered." They all waited for him to say more, but he didn't.

"You don't look that Italian to me." Smitty pointed out.

"My mother was Swedish." Brock answered flatly.

"My background is primarily English." Lt. Commander Williams chimed in.

"Yeah, that makes sense." Brock said dryly with a taunting smile. "What about you Marcus?"

"Mostly German, I think." He replied. "A mix of a few things. A little Sweed too."

"Ha, so you're a mutt." Smitty snickered, not unkindly. "Same as me." He winked at Marcus. "Too many different things to count them all."

...

Before long, the USS Reeves was passing near to the city of Rome, where ambassadors and military personnel of several coalition nations had gathered to discuss the international fleet's plan of action. Something quite similar to the Zao-Ming Conference, but with a more secure location. With Kameras seemly out of the picture, their main target was now Gezora.

While the delegates rejoiced that one apparent threat had been vanquished, no sooner had they started to pop the champagne, when word arrived from Japan that another monster threat had surfaced in the Pacific. The jubilant and hopeful atmosphere at the conference quickly died down with that bit of news.

There were Japanese ambassadors on hand at the conference who extensively downplayed the attack. However, in reality, the Imperial Fleet had taken a thrashing and was in shambles. Though the actual numbers of casualties and ships lost had not been tallied up yet, they already knew they had taken a big loss in material and manpower. They were forced to once again ask the international community for help. The burden of the request would fall mostly on the United States, as they by far had the largest fleet and most assets available in the Pacific to immediately make a difference.

...

In the Pacific, it was the morning after the attack on the IJN fleet. Akira and Shiro were still in their lifeboat waiting for a destroyer to pick them up. They were low priority compared to the hundreds of other sailors scattered across the sea who were floating helplessly on open water. Most of them were lucky if they had life jackets. Many men were forced to cling onto debris to survive. The unluckiest sailors drowned before help could arrive. Akira and Shiro did what they could and were in the process of rowing over to the nearest group of survivors. Around them, the burning remnants of the fleet were still sinking while the remaining warships that were still intact tried to regroup.

"What was that thing?" Akira asked, bewildered as he continued to row. "How could it have such powers?"

"It's not as strange as you might think." Shiro grunted as he wrestled with his oars.

"What do you mean?" Akira asked, intrigued. "You mean you've seen something like that before?"

"My father is a fisherman." Shiro began to explain. "From time to time, he will catch a peculiar type of manta ray, a so called 'electric ray'. I spent a lot of time helping him when I was younger. He taught me, if you ever see one in your nets, never go near it. A ray could shock you if you touched it with your bear hand. If it were a big enough one, it could even kill you with its jolts. I think that monster was using a similar power to attack the fleet."

"Oh… so it's like an electric eel." Akira began to understand. "Do you think the monster could use its electric attack at a distance too, or does it require direct contact?" He asked inquisitively.

"Well, from what I understand, if a man were standing in water and scared a nearby ray, it could discharge electricity in the water around it." Shiro explained. "If the man were within several feet, it could shock him through the water without touching him. I don't see why it would be any different with this creature."

"Chikusho, how close to death was I just now?" Akira got a chill up his back, remembering his legs submerged in the water earlier during the attack. "Just a few meters…? Mere feet?" He tried not to dwell on the thought. "How do we fight something like that when we can't even get close to it?"

"Couldn't say." Shiro answered. "The best way to avoid the shock of rays is to avoid them all together."

"Well, we can't just avoid this thing." Akira growled with a warrior's resolve. "It's coming directly after us. We need to get stronger. Between this thing, and the Rodans, we are hopelessly underpowered to properly fight them. We get our asses kicked every time we try. We just need to get stronger." Akira was speaking to himself just as much as he was talking to Shiro.

...

The USS Reeves arrived at Taranto Naval Base. Marcus and the rest of the passengers made their way to the top deck to get a good look. The British task force was already there. Their destroyers were outside the harbor patrolling the nearby waters. The battleships, carriers, and other large vessels were inside the harbor anchored.

As the Reeves entered the harbor, the view was shocking. The wreckage of Italian battleships was still plain to see scattered around the bay like a graveyard for warships. Marcus had seen monsters destroy smaller and less armored naval vessels before, but battleships were by a wide margin made to be the toughest ships a fleet could offer. They were the pride of most navies. To see so many of them destroyed in a single location was sobering. Any confidence Marcus had about their mission instantly melted away. He knew from that moment onward that their new opponent was dangerous.

Upon reaching the harbor's landing, Admiral Nimitz disembarked to meet with Italian officials to start discussing a plan of attack. Marcus, Brock, and Williams all accompanied him. The plan thus far was pretty straight forward: Seek and Destroy. The monster had more or less disappeared, so they'd have to go looking for it.

During the meeting, there was also a short briefing about the new monster in the Pacific who had been named Manda. He had also mysteriously disappeared following his attack on the IJN. The briefing was being led by Japanese officials and the notable Italian marine biologist Dr. Orsini.

Even though the briefing had nothing to do with their present mission, Marcus decided it would be in his best interest to attend. However, by the time Marcus arrived, the lecture was already over for the most part. They'd progressed to the Q and A portion of it.

"How was it able to kill so many men inside the ship so quickly?" Marcus heard an Italian captain ask as he walked in the lecture hall.

"Apparently the creature is able to create a deadly electrical field around itself." Dr. Orsini answered. "It is not unheard of in the animal kingdom, but not very common. It is certainly unprecedented in something of this scale, but then again, creatures of this size are not all that common in general. At least they didn't used to be. It is a little terrifying that even one of these monsters has appeared, let alone, what is it now we are up to, six? Each of them similar in size and destructive potential, and yet, still quite unique from one another."

"I'm not familiar with animals who can create electrical fields doctor. Could you explain that a little more?" The Italian captain asked.

"Certainly Captain Garibaldi." Dr. Orsini answered. "Think of it in these terms: Have you heard of an electric eel before?" The doctor asked. Garibaldi shook his head no. "That's okay, we'll start there, then." Dr. Orsini began. "It is a South American river fish which is found in certain jungles there. It is able to create an electrical discharge using specialized internal organs made up of electrocytes, or "electric cells" to stun prey or defend itself against predators. They have been known to pop out of the water and aggressively lunge at men who have tread into their territory. Their electrical shocks can be lethal. Basically, what happens is they disrupt the natural electrical activity of the heart and cause the cardiac muscles to stop beating properly. A strong enough electrical discharge can even burn flesh. I've seen it, the smell is quite horrific."

"How does that apply to the monster's attack?" Captain Garibaldi asked.

"In the case of the attack on the IJN vessels, their hulls were mainly made of metal, which conducted electricity throughout their ships." Dr. Orsini answered. "Without anything to insulate a person against the electrical current, the monster could theoretically kill an entire ship's crew in a matter of seconds." The room went grimly quiet.

"Do you have any idea of the range of the electrical attack?" Marcus broke the silence with a question of his own.

"At this juncture of the investigation, it's quite difficult to accurately estimate what the radius of this monster's attack could be." Dr. Orsini replied, adjusting his glasses to get a better look at Marcus in the back of the room. "Most sea life with this unusual adaptation can only project an electrical field within a few feet of their bodies. But a creature of this scale, who knows?" He shrugged. "If it is proportional to his body size, then I'd say maybe a couple hundred meters? But that is just an educated guess. For all I know, it could only project within a couple feet of its body. More research is needed. All I can say for certain at this point is it can use its electric attack on anything it comes in direct contact with. That much has been proven, as some very unfortunate Japanese sailors have discovered. In a case such as this, I think it is better to error on the safe side and assume that its attack range is well-beyond what is within its reach."

"Is there any reason to think the monster can attack at a distance outside of the water?" Marcus asked.

"I would venture to say that its ranged electrical attacks should be limited only to the water." Dr. Orsini answered. "I find it highly doubtful that it could manifest shocks through the open air, and certainly not through the ground."

"So, airstrikes might be a safe way to approach it then?" Captain Garibaldi suggested.

"That is possible." Dr. Orsini nodded. "I'd strongly advise against trying to attack it by sea though. Are there any more questions?"

"Dr. Orsini, I wanted to run something else by you." Marcus raised his hand.

"Proceed." The Doctor invited.

"There have been attacks on two of the world's most powerful navies in the space of two days. In each case, the monster hit hard and then disappeared. Doesn't that seem strange to you? It cannot just be a coincidence. Do you think they could somehow be connected?"

"It is very strange indeed." Dr. Orsini agreed. "At this point, there is no evidence to tie the two cases together, but the timing is very suspicious." He scratched at his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "What about the monster Kameras? How do you see him tying into all of this? You do not feel that he is also connected?"

"No, I don't." Marcus replied simply.

"Really...?" Dr. Orsini raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do go on."

"I personally think there is a direct correlation between the appearance of Kameras and the earthquake in Africa." Marcus began to explain. "I think he was released by it. However, I don't think he's connected to Gezora and Manda. When Kameras appeared, he went on a rampage that lasted days. The monster's attacks were not focused, and he didn't seem to have any goal in mind. He basically just wandered down the African coast mindlessly destroying anything that came across his path. He did not stop until he was forced to stop. Gezora on the other hand hit the Italian fleet specifically, then withdrew, and hasn't been seen since. At almost the same time on the other side of the world, Manda hit the Japanese fleet hard, withdrew, and also hasn't been seen since. Each of them appeared to have had a particular goal in mind. The appearance of these two monsters feels different from the ones that came before. It's almost as though there's something organized behind them."

"That is very interesting." Dr. Orsini noted. "I too have seen a pattern, but it's not just these two attacks or Kameras." The doctor began. "Giant monsters have been popping up all over the globe regularly over the last year and a half. In the scientific world, we don't believe in coincidences like that. There has to be something connecting all of it, perhaps even triggering the phenomena."

"What do you think that is?" Marcus asked, fascinated.

"I have to admit, I haven't the slightest clue." Dr. Orsini replied sheepishly. "There's not enough evidence to make any kind of sound theory. But I will say this: I don't think it is done. In fact, I think it's going to get far worse before it gets better." He said darkly.

...

Later that night, elements of the American Atlantic Fleet arrived at Taranto, sailing in under the command of Admiral Ernest King. In the lead was an older battleship, akin to the refit battlewagons Marcus was accustomed to seeing in Pearl, the USS Texas. Despite her age, she served as the Admiral's flagship. King perhaps preferred riding in something with a couple miles on it.

Coming in behind her were the new and impressive sister ships, USS Washington and USS North Carolina. The pair of modern battleships were fresh out of the construction yards. They looked twice as large as the Texas and were on par with the largest Italian battleships stationed in the harbor. The new warships were absolutely bristling with guns. The most impressive of which were their main sixteen-inch rifles. By comparison, the Italian battleships only had fifteen-inch guns.

Following the new battleships, the carriers of the task force sailed in. They were the USS Ranger and USS Wasp. Each of them was impressive, though older and smaller than the Enterprise. The Ranger did, however, have the distinction of being the first U.S. vessel to be designed and built from the keel up as a carrier. All carriers prior to her had been converted from other types of warships once air power at sea had shown its value. Bringing up the rear were the cruisers, led by USS Omaha, and the smaller support craft.

The U.S. taskforce dropped anchor and settled in for the evening. They were to resupply, refuel, and then set back out the next day with the British and Italian fleets. The French Mediterranean Fleet was to meet them in the open water the next day. If they tried to join them now, their numbers would severely overcrowd the already limited space in Taranto's harbor. The French had set sail from Toulon two days after the Reeves departed.

Of all the forces committed to the battle, the French contingent was by far the strongest. Over half of their fleet was already stationed in the Mediterranean to counter the Italian's ambitions. Ironic that they would end up fighting alongside the remnants of the fleet they were specifically designed to fight against.

...

In the early hours of the morning, the combined fleet set sail. One by one, the warships left the harbor. There were so many vessels that the process was going to take hours to safely complete. The British were given the lead, followed by the Italians. The American fleet was still loading supplies as the process began, so they were naturally designated to go last.

Admiral Nimitz decided to take on the carrier USS Ranger as his flagship during the mission. He was in command of air operations, as he was more familiar with that, while Admiral King would focus on the battleship force and coordinate the other surface ships. Marcus naturally joined Nimitz along with Brock and Lt. Commander Williams.

"What do you think boys?" Admiral Nimitz asked as they walked up the boarding ramp.

"Well Sir, she's not the Enterprise." Marcus noted.

"True, but she should serve our purpose." Admiral Nimitz smiled.

Marcus smiled back, but stopped short of the ramp, holding up Brock who was behind him. He had a foreboding feeling about boarding the ship. Something was telling him not to.

"What's wrong?" Brock asked, coming to Marcus' side.

"You ever get that feeling that something is awfully wrong, but you can't figure out what it is?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, in the jungle while in combat." Brock answered. "Sometimes you get the feeling you're being watched out there, even when you're not. But there's no danger here, don't let your nerves get to you, kid." Marcus just stood there looking up at the ramp. "Come on, this stuff I'm lugging around isn't light you know. Get a move on!" Brock nudged Marcus forward, breaking the tension.

Marcus shook off his misgivings and started up the slope.

...

A few hours later, the fleet had gathered several miles south of the harbor. The French were further out to sea waiting for them. It had been decided that the fleets would break up into smaller subsections to search through sectors of the Mediterranean. However, they would not completely split up. The idea was to stay relatively close together. That way, each fleet would be able to support each other if they should come under attack.

Despite speaking three different languages between the four fleets, communication was relatively easy. Each flagship had an extra liaison officer who spoke at least two languages, and who could quickly translate messages for the commanders. For messages that were not very urgent, individual ships could communicate via morse code using signal lamps. As most navies already used them as a secure source of communication to avoid radio transmissions that could be intercepted under regular combat conditions, it too helped overcome the language barrier. The fleet broke up and moved into their assigned search areas.

Days passed, and there were no signs of Gezora. Destroyers used their recently acquired sonar equipment to sweep the ocean floor, while the surface of the ocean around the fleet was constantly monitored by rotating teams of men with binoculars, as well as search aircraft. If Gezora so much as raised a tentacle out of the water, it would be spotted. Still, despite the men and technology, nothing was found. The monster must have retreated out of Italian waters altogether.

As the days went by, grid after grid was cleared, and it was decided that the fleet would move out into international waters to search for Gezora. With no official assignment, Marcus and Brock spent most of their time helping to scan the surface with the spotters. They talked to break up the time. Williams for the most part stayed by Admiral Nimitz's side on the bridge of the Ranger. From time to time, he would stop by to visit them.

Marcus and Brock had taken up a position in one of the gunnery stations at the base of the carrier's island. That way, they would be close to the bridge should they sight anything. On the seventh day of the search, Williams came down to see them with some news.

"We just got word." Williams said as he approached and then sat with them. "Mothra has been spotted flying east."

"East...?" Marcus asked surprised, he got a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"What the hell?" Brock interjected. "Shouldn't your big bug friend be out here helping us?" He asked Marcus disgruntled.

Marcus was too lost in thought to answer. He had been certain Mothra would be there to help them fight Gezora when the time came. But with her out of the picture, he suddenly felt a lot less confident about their chances. She had been their safety net. They were clearly on their own now.

"Well, unless she learned how to swim, I don't know how much help she was going to be out here anyways." Williams noted.

"If she's not sticking around here, then where the heck is she going?" Brock asked impatiently.

...

Mothra meanwhile had made it to the southwest border of Russia. The Soviets still lacked radar, but their spotters on the ground managed to sight her as she glided into their airspace. Alarms were raised and air defense bases in the area were alerted.

German High Command intercepted their transmissions, and radioed Moscow, trying to warn them that engaging Mothra in the air would be a fruitless effort. Despite their counsel, the Russians still scrambled fighters to meet her. They just couldn't allow Mothra to fly through Russian airspace unchallenged.

The fighters were directed to intercept Mothra just before she passed over the city of Stalingrad. Joseph Stalin himself insisted that his generals fight as hard as possible and hold nothing back. He either wanted to keep up the appearance of Soviet Russian strength after their recent string of defeats, or perhaps it was simply because the city bore his name and his personal vanity required a good show defending it. In either case, the result was the same. It was a public relations disaster.

The air assault was delayed due to poor weather conditions on the ground slowing down takeoffs. Because of that, Mothra advanced much further into Russian territory before the squadrons of fighters could close in on her. As a result, the Soviet's attack on her began while she was just beginning to fly over Stalingrad, instead of taking place miles outside of the city's boundaries.

Mothra, for her part, tried to avoid the Russian planes. However, there were so many of them, that avoiding the attacks of some meant colliding with others. The Soviets had problems of their own with so many aircraft converging on one area. Instead of coordinating with each other and attacking in waves, all the Soviet warplanes zoomed in a free-for-all style. The idea was that they would be able to overwhelm Mothra with sheer numbers, but the tactic backfired spectacularly. Mid-air collisions and the accidental strafing of friendly planes with machine guns both occurred frequently.

Plane after plane when down, and because they were over the city, the resulting crashes ignited several fires within Stalingrad. One of the fighters even hit a chemical plant, which exploded. Toxic fumes began to pour into the streets and endanger the residents of the city. Upon seeing the noxious cloud seeping its way through the boulevards, Mothra swooped down to meet it. She beat her wings, blowing the poisonous cloud back the way it came. She followed the cloud to its source and beat her wings even harder. What remained of the chemical plant's superstructure collapsed in on itself and smothered the flames.

Other fires were still burning throughout the city, but there wasn't much else Mothra could do without causing more harm than good. The force of her wings would level buildings trying to blow out fires. The situation would only continue to get worse if she lingered. Having no better option, Mothra retreated, maneuvering her way around the Russian fighters, and then got clear of the city. The warplanes tried to pursue her, but it did not take Mothra long to outpace them.

...

By the beginning of the eighth day, the admirals in command of the international fleet began to become impatient with the lack of progress in their search. They radioed Dr. Orsini to see if he had an opinion on something else they should be doing.

Dr. Orsini, as it so happened, did have a suggestion. Chum. He noted that some ocean predators, the best example being sharks, were attracted to the smell of blood in the water. In fact, they could detect a single drop of blood from miles away. Dr. Orsini suggested that they might be able to draw Gezora's attention in a similar fashion.

The admirals liked the idea, and relayed orders back to base to set things in motion. While the warships continued their sweep, cargo ships in Italy and France were loaded with frozen beef taken from slaughterhouses. Blood that would normally be discharged was also collected and put into barrels.

After a few days, the cargo ships began to arrive and join the fleet. Some of the cargo ships remained with the flotilla to become "chummers", while others just transferred their cargo over to destroyers so they could return to port to retrieve a second shipment of bait. One of the destroyers chosen to take on the chum as cargo was the USS Reeves. It happened to be nearby the Ranger, and Marcus was watching as an Italian cargo ship pulled up alongside her and began to move barrels over.

Unfortunately, Captain Shack was still in command of the Reeves and was too distracted by the transfer of barrels to notice that his destroyer had drifted off course and into the path of one of the cruisers following behind it. The cruiser's captain was paying attention and was forced to take evasive action to avoid colliding with the Reeves. Captain Shack noticed his mistake after it was too late, and likewise gave orders to avoid being rammed.

The Reeves shuttered as the engines fired up and managed to get out of the way of the cruiser, but not before the erratic maneuver caused four barrels on her deck to fall over and break open. One-hundred and seventy-six gallons of blood spilled onto the Reeves' deck. The sailors who had been helping unload them were drenched in the blood from head to toe. Their white uniforms were permanently stained red. Other crew members rushed in to help but slid and fell into the blood, adding to the mayhem.

The blood had not been refrigerated during the trip and had started to turn putrid. The smell of the blood was so thick in the air that even Marcus could detect it from the Ranger's deck two-hundred yards away. In fact, he had to cover his nose. Marcus could see that crew members on board the Reeves were getting sick and vomiting on the deck. Finally, damage control teams on the Reeves found their way to the disaster and used hoses meant to put out fires to wash the blood overboard. The whole episode was revolting.

Admiral Nimitz had also seen the drama unfold from the bridge of the Ranger and was so fed up with Captain Shack's incompetence that he signaled for the Reeves to discontinue its task loading barrels and reassigned the destroyer to the outer perimeter of the fleet for recon duty for the rest of the mission. Marcus assumed the admiral just wanted the ship out of his sight.

As the Reeves changed course and began moving away, Marcus saw Smitty on the aft deck. He'd managed to completely avoid a blood bath. The crafty old seadog had apparently sensed trouble coming and dodged it once again. Smitty spotted Marcus looking at him through the binoculars and gave him a smirky salute as he sailed away.

While the incident had been disgusting for everyone involved, on the plus side, the spilling of so much blood did show some merit to Dr. Orsini's plan. It attracted sharks by the hundreds. If it would attract Gezora though, remained to be seen.

...

Meanwhile, Akira and Shiro had been rescued and taken back to Yokosuka Naval Base to recover from their ordeal. What remained of the Imperial Japanese Navy returned to port with them. The fleet was a shadow of what it used to be. Japanese naval prowess had been greatly diminished. There were numerous new and powerful warships being built, but in most cases, it would be months, if not years, before they would be completed. In the interim, the number of active and undamaged warships could not be maintained with the great number of losses they had taken.

Worse for the Japanese, while they had been distracted fighting Baragon, the Rodans, and Manda, the Chinese had been making plans of their own. They took advantage of the breathing room they had been granted while the Japanese were still preoccupied fighting the monsters to reorganize themselves, and quietly build up their forces on the boarder. Once they were ready, the Chinese launched an all-out offensive against the remaining Japanese army units occupying Chinese territory.

The Japanese Government had kept it a secret for as long as they could. They felt as soon as they had dealt with the Rodans, they would be able to redeploy their men and resources and defeat the rejuvenated Chinese. However, both situations had spun out of their control, and had reached a critical level.

The Rodans had never properly been defeated, and instead, the Japanese took heavy casualties in their failure. The Chinese, meanwhile, had overwhelmed the Japanese Army with crushing numbers and had them entirely on the run. They were on course to push out the Japanese troops and reclaim all their lost territory within months.

The Japanese had hoped to bring in reinforcements, but with the fleet in such bad shape after a second devastating battle, and the ongoing threat of the new monster lurking in their home waters, there was not much they would be able to do. Plans had already been drawn up to withdraw their remaining ground troops from mainland Asia. The best they could hope for, was to safely withdraw them. The alternative was to fight and die were they stood.

Word finally leaked out about the disaster. The stunning string of defeats stirred up unrest amongst common Japanese citizens. There was a lot of fear and anger circulating around the country, and everyone was looking for someone to blame. Even the most loyal Japanese soldiers had grown frustrated with how many of them had died with so little gained. So much had been sacrificed, and now it seemed all of it had been done in vain.

As it turned out, the Japanese Emperor found the perfect sacrificial lamb to feed them. He summoned Hideki Tojo, the Prime Minister, and head of the Japanese military, to the Imperial Palace in Tokyo to answer for his failures. Tojo was the man at the top calling the shots, so it was he who would have to shoulder the blame. For a man who had failed as completely as he had, there was but one recourse in Japanese culture.

Tojo was brought into the throne room. He expected he was going to be reprimanded and chastised by the Emperor, perhaps even dismissed from his office, but as he approached the seat of power of the Japanese Empire, he found the Emperor was there waiting for him with a ceremonial katana in hand. A pair of armed guards began to shadow Tojo as he was brought before the Emperor.

Tojo was forcibly pushed down to his knees in front of the Emperor. Only then did he realize that his fate was truly sealed. He bowed with his head resting on the ground in respect. He held the bow for as long as he could. Soon, the room was full of murmuring amongst the occupants of the court. Tojo had stalled long enough and was starting to feel the sting of his peer's gaze upon him. Finally, he looked up. The Emperor refused to meet his gaze or even speak to him. He only held out the sword grimly for Tojo to take.

"It is better for a Japanese soldier to die than be dishonored!" One of the Emperors courtiers shouted from the back of the room. The words echoed throughout the hall for everyone to hear.

Tojo felt a small trill of pride and summoned up the courage to take the sword. The guards surrounding him stepped in closer, just in case he should decide to use the sword for any purpose other than what it was intended for. Tojo, however, only bowed for a second time to the Emperor, and then left the room with the sword in hand, followed by the guards.

Tojo was permitted to enter the Imperial gardens and allowed to take his time making peace with the Emperor's demand. He kept his composure, and after a time, he was ready. With the assistance of one of his closest aids, Tojo carried out the Emperor's command. He stabbed himself in the gut with a short tanto blade, while his second waited behind him for the right moment to strike. When Tojo stopped cutting, his aid perceived that his moment had come. He swung the katana, and Tojo's head was severed from his body in a single bloody swing. It rolled onto the floor, bringing the process to a satisfactory end.

News of Tojo's death by traditional ritual seppuku was broadcast to the nation. The shrewd and ruthless political move achieved its intended purpose. Several other high-ranking members of the military felt shamed and followed Tojo's example, though most not by an actual sword. This ended up placating the people's need for justice.

In the aftermath, the Emperor ordered a new and more moderate government to be organized in place of the intensely militaristic one than had come before.

...

The International fleet had been chumming for several days. They continued to attract plenty of sharks, but no Gezora. The Mediterranean was a big place though, and it was determined that they were not covering enough ground, condensed as they were. The four commanding admirals agreed that it would be best to break up the fleets to cover more ground. They would, however, remain within a couple of miles of each other in case any of them came under attack by the monster.

The American formation made up the right wing, the British the left wing, the Italians took right center and the French the left center. After redeploying the formation to apply the changes, the entire fleet changed course, sweeping eastward through the middle of the Mediterranean. That put the American force the furthest south.

A day after the redeployment was implemented, the American wing came across an archipelago of islands. It was not directly in their path, but the small landmasses confused their sonar. Gezora could have been hiding behind them if he were clever enough, so the Admiral wanted them checked out visually. The water near the islands was too shallow for big ships to get close, so he ordered a detachment of destroyers to sail around and investigate.

The operation was basically a milk run, so the Reeves was assigned to the flotilla. The four destroyers involved broke formation and sped off full speed ahead to investigate. Two destroyers broke off to the right, one of them broke left. Captain Shack, however, decided to take the Reeves directly through the middle of the archipelago. It was ill-advised. Entering it was easy enough, but the depth of the water thinned out towards the middle.

Admiral Nimitz spotted the Reeves heading in, and figured out what Captain Shack was up to. He had the radio operator contact them and ordered them to reverse course. By the time they had established communication, the Reeves was already well into the archipelago, so reversing course would be difficult. Instead of backing out as directed, Captain Shack elected to go in further and attempted to navigate his way out. It did not go well. He managed to run the Reeves aground in the sand and got the destroyer stuck. Meanwhile, the other destroyers completed their sweep and confirmed the area was clean.

Upon seeing the Reeves beached, Admiral Nimitz was not pleased. It was already high tide, so they couldn't just wait for the water levels to rise for the destroyer to be freed, and there weren't any ships in the fleet small enough to safely pull the Reeves out of its predicament.

Nimitz couldn't ask the other four fleets to halt and wait for them while he figured out a solution. The only thing he could think of was to have a skeleton crew remain with the destroyer while the majority of the sailors were evacuated onto other ships in the fleet. In the meantime, they could move on and request a few tugboats to come out and retrieve the trapped ship.

Admiral Nimitz issued the necessary orders. In particular, he requested that Captain Shack be brought onboard the Ranger so he could dress him down personally. Nimitz was more comfortable leaving Shack's X.O. in command of the Reeves while they waited for help to arrive. The process of retrieving the crew took some time and meant that the U.S. portion of the fleet fell behind the rest. Nimitz was annoyed about it but felt confident that they would be able to make up ground later.

On the plus side, Smitty accompanied Captain Shack as he was brought aboard the Ranger, and that pleased Marcus and Brock.

...

As the day pressed on, the American task force sped up to close the gap between themselves and the rest of the fleet. The Italians sent out a single destroyer to help guide them back into formation. It was a couple of miles ahead of them. As it grew dark, it used its signal lamp to message them.

"Isn't this about the area where the Italians were testing their new Neptune depth charges?" Marcus asked.

"Might be, but I think it was a little further north of here." Smitty answered. "Near enough anyhow."

"It's too bad they don't have any more of them." Brock noted. "I think they would have come in handy when we find Gezora."

"You still think we will?" Marcus asked, frustrated. "We've been at this for almost two weeks already. I think if he wanted another fight, he would have found us by now."

"Maybe he's already dead." Brock suggested. "The Italians managed to hammer the hell out of him in the harbor. They tore Gezora to pieces from what I understand, so he may have succumbed to his wounds in the meantime."

"We can always hope so." Marcus laughed. "At the very least, he shouldn't be up to speed if we do find him."

"Huh, the Italians are still flashing, what are they saying Smitty?" Brock asked. Smitty paused and watched for a moment. After many years of being a sailor, he had become somewhat of an expert in morse code.

"Still just given coordinates by the look of things." Smitty answered. "Nothing too special."

"How can you understand all of that blinking without writing it down first?" Marcus asked, impressed.

"When you've been in the navy as long as I have, you pick up a few things." Smitty smirked.

"I'm not sure what the point of that is." Brock said. "The Ranger already sent off some scout planes to ensure we'd end up in the right place."

"I guess they just want to make double-sure." Smitty replied. "Can't be too careful."

"I'll tell you this much, I wouldn't want to be those pilots coming back and trying to make a night landing in the dark." Marcus said, shuddering at the thought. "I think we should head inside before they get back here, by the way. There's no telling what could happen when they start hitting the deck."

"I think you got a point there." Smitty agreed. "Carrier landings are tricky enough during the day. A pilot has got to have big brass balls to attempt it at night. Not sure we want to be anywhere near that mess." The flashing of the Italian destroyer off in the distance stopped.

"Ah good, they are finally giving it a rest." Brock sighed.

"Huh, they stopped during the middle of their transmission." Smitty grunted, seeming a little troubled. He sat there, waiting for them to resume. Brock and Marcus stopped and looked too.

"Maybe their light just burned out?" Marcus suggested.

They all just continued to watch the dark void. There was an explosion on the horizon, which gave them a brief glimpse of a dark silhouette against the fire.

"Shit, it's Gezora!" Brock jumped up excitedly.

The bridge crew must have seen the explosion too. The general quarters alarm began to blare, and the whole ship came alive.

"Time to go boys…" Smitty noted. The trio ran up towards the bridge through the stairwell. When they arrived, Admiral Nimitz was barking out orders.

"Tell the aircrews to get to their planes." The admiral instructed. "I want every bird off the deck ASAP! Signal the battleships and tell them we are going hard to starboard to put some distance between ourselves and the monster. Admiral King should know enough to get his battlewagons between us and it."

"Admiral, target now bearing one-five-zero. Speed, thirty knots." The Ranger's captain reported. "It's coming right at us. Should be within visual range now, sir."

"Verify with optical check." Admiral Nimitz ordered.

"Aye Sir." The captain took out his binoculars. They were a superb Japanese model that were better suited for night operations compared to the standard-issue American ones. "Confirmed Admiral. The bastard is approaching the fleet."

"Pass that information to the Washington and North Carolina." Nimitz ordered. "They should hopefully already be working on a targeting solution. Let the boys in the gun gallery know where to aim. And signal the fleet to light up."

A moment later, Marcus could see the search lights of every ship in the task force turning on and panning in the direction of Gezora. The monster was still too far away to be seen in the dark though. As the Ranger maneuvered away, the Washington and North Carolina steamed into view. Marcus could see their heavy turrets beginning to angrily wheel around towards the horizon.

The row of barrels on the sixteen-inch guns were uneven as they prepared their first salvo. Their radar guidance would get the shells close, but the fire-control teams would need to see where their shells landed visually to make corrections to help pinpoint their target. For Battleships, long range accuracy was not quite there from the get-go. The idea of splitting the elevation of the barrels was to have one shell fall short, one shell fly long, and then narrow the cannon's barrels closer together to bracket the target with each subsequent volley to narrow down the proper range.

The battleships opened up, sending impressive plumes of smoke out of the guns in their wake. Marcus had never been so close to a battleship when it was firing before. The bridge of the Ranger reverberated with the thunderous shots. Moments later, the shells began to fall all around Gezora, but none of them hit him. The battleships started narrowing their barrels in preparation for the next attack.

Meanwhile, several destroyers had moved into place as a screen between Gezora and the rest of the fleet and were launching their torpedoes. They managed to coordinate well, and their torpedo spreads hit the water within seconds of each other. Altogether, about thirty-two torpedoes were speeding towards Gezora in a tight cluster. There were no gaps he could escape into. If Gezora had been an enemy ship, he would never have been able to avoid all of them. However, the monster had alternative options beyond just turning left or right. He saw the incoming danger and dived straight down under the water to avoid the long line of torpedoes.

As the guns and the torpedoes of the surface ships were no longer useful to attack a submerged target, the destroyers turned as a coordinated unit and sailed in a line-abreast formation, preparing to deploy their depth charges. They could not be fired at long range though. Depth charges were weapons meant to be used at relatively close quarters. The destroyers would have to wait for Gezora to close the gap and be nearly on top of him before they could act. The sonar operators listened closely to give their crews the best possible information about their target. Finally, they heard the gush of water they were looking for.

Dozens of explosive drums were fired into the night air like mortars and then fell back down into the sea. Within moments, huge columns of water exploded up to the surface. So many were going off at once, that it almost formed a wall of water. They had all missed though. Gezora was moving through the water so quickly that he was able to get clear of the blast radius before the depth charges went off.

Within moments, Gezora had advanced far enough to be within the task force's perimeter and was intermingled with the warships. He surfaced, which sent out a cascade of waves which rocked the ships around him. Search lights panned over to Gezora, giving the fleet their first good look at him.

"Jesus, there isn't a mark on him, is that even the same monster?" Admiral Nimitz observed anxiously. "Contact the Italians. Inform them that we are under attack and need support now!"

"Aye Sir!" The radio operator replied.

"How long until our birds are in the air?" He asked the captain.

"Not soon enough Admiral." The captain answered. "They are still being armed as we speak."

"Damn!" Nimitz cursed. "Helm, change course to one-three-zero, full speed ahead." He said to the helmsman.

"Yes Sir! One-three-zero, aye." The sailor repeated and started to turn the wheel sharply.

"Admiral, I'm not getting any response from the Italians." The radio man reported.

"Keep trying." Nimitz replied resolutely.

By that point, Gezora had taken hold of the cruiser USS Omaha with his tentacles. The monster pressed the ship on both sides until it started to fold over and eventually ripped the hull in two.

"Holy shit, that thing just bent three inches of armored plating like it was a piece of cheese!" Williams gasped, shocked.

The rate of fire around Gezora intensified as the Omaha began to sink. Watching the cruiser get bent like a pretzel inspired a lot of fear amongst the crews of the other ships within the task force. The gunners began to fire wildly, becoming less conscious of friendly vessels within the target zone. Ships began to hit each other regularly as the fight grew more intense.

The main searchlight from the Ranger's tower was irritating Gezora's eyes. He broke off a piece of a nearby destroyer's superstructure and flung it at the light in response. Gezora hit his mark. The lamp was shattered and the sailor who had been operating it was crushed. Inside the bridge, they could hear the loud clang of metal on metal as it impacted.

With the light out, Gezora dove back down into the water to avoid taking more fire from the surface ships. The rounds that hit him during the firefight were doing minor damage. Gezora traveled below the water until he passed under the Ranger. Once he was on the other side, Gezora resurfaced and used the carrier to block much of the incoming fire.

The Ranger being in the line of fire did not stop all the warships from firing though. Marcus heard a five-inch shell ricochet off the carrier's armor nearby him. The gunners were doing their best, but stray shots were bound to miss their mark in the chaos. Gezora was also being hit though. The monster roared as a seven-inch shell from a cruiser exploded against his bulbous head.

In his rage, Gezora slammed one of his tentacled arms across the deck of the Ranger. It landed near the backside of the island. Planes that were waiting to launch were smashed into the deck, while others were knocked overboard. The impact was strong enough to rattle everyone on the bridge.

"Where the hell are those damned Italians?!" Admiral Nimitz cursed, acutely feeling the pressures of close combat that a carrier commander was never meant to endure.

Gezora clasped onto the Ranger, pulling himself tightly against the carrier. The escort ships had an increasingly difficult time getting a clean shot at him. The admiral was torn about what to do next. Part of him wanted to tell the rest of the fleet to fire at will, but that would increase the odds of getting the Ranger shot up in the process. On the other hand, if he did nothing, the monster was likely to pull the whole ship under.

"Captain, order all ships to open fire!" Admiral Nimitz relented, coming to a decision. "I'm not letting us go down without a fight."

"Yes sir..." The Ranger's captain replied, resigning himself to carry out the order, knowing all too well the danger it would put them in.

The barrage of fire intensified. Small caliber rounds dinged against the Ranger's armored hull almost nonstop like a hailstorm. The ship shuttered as Gezora moved in protest, absorbing more and more fire. They could hear the armor belt buckle under the stress.

"Admiral, we are getting reports of hull breaches opening up amidship." The Captain reported. "We're taking on water!"

"See what damage control can do to by us some time Captain." Admiral Nimitz replied. "We can't abandon ship while that thing still has a hold of us. If we're lucky, maybe we can still save the ship." The Captain nodded.

The Ranger tilted starboard under the strain of carrying Gezora's weight. Marcus could see from one of the bridge's windows that they were listing so badly that more of the Ranger's aircraft were falling over the side of the flightdeck into the sea. He could also see the battleship Washington lining up her main guns from about three hundred yards away. Before he could say anything, the Washington's guns fired. He could see three yellow balls of flame headed right at them.

The sixteen-inch shells were moving right for the Ranger's island. One of them directly hit the base of the tower and exploded, rocking the carrier. The second round missed the Ranger and the monster altogether. The third shell ricocheted off the bridge and into Gezora's face. The force of the shell passing through the bridge shattered glass and scattered metal shrapnel all over, knocking every man inside off their feet. The whole room was filled with smoke.

The explosive force from the detonation loosened Gezora's grip on the carrier. Chunks of his blue flesh rained down and landed all over the deck. The explosion had not killed Gezora, but it did damage him enough to make him reconsider the level of threat around him. He needed to make himself less of a target and so he slipped back beneath the waves.

Marcus coughed and tried to get back to his feet. The bridge was still full of smoke, so he reached out for the wall to help orient himself. He felt a pain in his side as he rose. The smoke began to thin out. It was quickly pouring into the open night air from the massive hole that had been blasted into the bridge. As the haze vanished, the seriousness of the situation became clear. Most of the bridge crew were dead. The men who had been stationed near the front more-closely resembled piles of bloodied hamburger meat than men now. The shell had passed right through their stations and obliterated them from the waist up. There was not much left of them to identify.

If Marcus hadn't been watching from the window in the back of the bridge, he would probably be dead too. He could see he was bleeding from a wound just under his rib cage. And there was something else. He felt like there was something wet on his face. He thought it was probably seawater. Marcus reached up to wipe it off but found that it was not water at all. His hand was covered in a red liquid. He soon realized that it was blood.

Marcus instantly became unnerved. He must have been bleeding from his face. How bad was it? He started to panic as he felt around to see if he was missing anything that should be there. Nothing felt out of place, and he did not have any pain. That seemed odd, then it hit him: It was not his own blood. He looked back to the bodies that had been blown to pieces. The realization almost made him feel worse.

Marcus tried to compose himself. He remembered that several of his friends had also been on the bridge. He needed to find out what happened to them. He found Admiral Nimitz first. It was clear from the moment he saw him that he was dead. The admiral was not torn up like the men in the front of the compartment, but a large piece of the hull was imbedded in his chest and there was no life in his eyes.

"Oh God... no." Marcus began to panic again. He did not know what to do. At that point, Williams came up behind him, having also survived the explosion. He touched Marcus' shoulder, startling him. It did not help that he was also covered in blood.

Williams looked like something out of a nightmare, but somehow was keeping a cool head. He did not say anything to Marcus but got straight to work. He carefully collected the gold naval pendant from Admiral Nimitz's uniform. Marcus assumed it was so he could send it to his family. If he weren't so out of sorts, he would have been moved by Williams' loyalty to the admiral.

Having collected the admiral's pin, Williams' next move was to send a message out to the rest of the crew to abandon ship. As he was the highest-ranking officer left alive on the bridge, it was up to him to make the call. He had served on enough ships to know when one was going down. Even from the top of the bridge, he could tell the ship was riding much lower in the water than it should be. The Ranger was sinking.

Marcus heard a groan just outside the hallway, and Brock came in. He had apparently been knocked into the metal wall of the corridor and hit his head. He had a small bleeding gash. It wasn't serious but was pissing him off. Brock saw the admiral dead and he came to terms with it very quickly. He had seen comrades fall in the heat of battle many times before. His first instinct was to protect Marcus and Williams. He understood immediately what needed to be done. Get off the ship as quickly as possible. There was an explosion somewhere below them. The sixteen-inch shell must have caused a fire that was spreading below decks.

Brock grabbed Marcus, who was still in a state of shock, and began pulling him down the hallway. Williams was right behind them. Along the way, they found Smitty lying on the ground. He must have been trying to sneak away before the Ranger got hit. Brock reached down and paint-brushed Smitty on the back of the head to rouse him. It worked, Smitty angerly popped up to his feet. He was a little unsteady, but able to walk.

As the four men came to the stairwell that would take them to the flightdeck, they discovered that the shell that had hit the base of the Ranger's island had blown away a sizeable portion of the stairs. It was too wide of a gap to jump across, and way too far to jump down from. They had no choice but to backtrack and find another way down.

Brock could tell the situation was getting worse by the minute. He could feel the heat from a fire somewhere below them spreading further. The damage control teams were most likely not fighting them as they too were probably finding a way off the ship themselves. Their best bet was to go to the far side of the island and find another stairwell. Hopefully, the fire wouldn't have spread that far by the time they got there, otherwise they would be in a real tight spot.

Brock found the stairwell and began to descend it with everyone else in toe. When the group got to the bottom, they came across a hatch that would lead them to the flight deck. It had been sealed when the Admiral called for general quarters. It just needed to be cranked to unlock it. Brock went to open it, but the wheel had been damaged during the fight and was jammed into place.

"Fuck, son of a bitch, you have got to be kidding me!" Brock cursed in frustration. "It's busted, I can't freaking believe it!" He did not waste another second on it though and kept everyone moving. "We're going to have to try the mid-island entrance instead." He announced. It was going to be risky, and they all knew it. Going back that way would take them in the direction of the fire. Still, there was not a better option. Such as it was, they set out.

The metal deck was getting hotter with every step they took. The rubber on their shoes was even beginning to simmer like they were walking on a stove. Marcus was getting scared again. Each step was more dangerous than the last. Suddenly, they heard a crackling under them. It sounded like someone was setting off fireworks.

"What is that?!" Williams asked. They all paused to listen, sensing danger.

"That's the sound of ammo stores detonating!" Smitty warned, but it was already too late.

A large explosion erupted below them, rocking the ship. The corridor ripped open twenty yards ahead of them, and a piece of debris tore right through Williams. Marcus managed to stay on his feet, but Williams knocked Brock to the ground as he fell. Brock reached out to break his fall and ended up burning his hands on the cooking deck. He sprang back to his feet to avoid getting burnt any worse than he was.

Marcus looked over to Williams, who was quickly bleeding out. There was nothing to do for him. The wound was too big to put pressure on, and had obviously hit a major artery, judging by the copious amount of blood pouring out of him. The color was quickly melting out of Williams' face and Marcus looked back at him in horror. With the last of his strength, Williams reached out, trying to hand the admiral's pendant to Marcus.

When Brock recovered and saw what was happening, even he was shook up by it. He came over just in time for Williams' head to slump forward. The pendant dropped out of his hand and rolled over to the corner of the corridor. It was already too late for Williams, but Marcus could still honor his wishes. He slid in his blood trying to retrieve the admiral's pendant. Brock, meanwhile, recovered his composure and tried to get them back on track.

"Marcus, we don't have time for that!" Brock yelled over to him. Marcus ignored him though and scooped up the pin. "Come on, we have to go now!"

The next challenge was getting the rest of the way down the hallway. The explosion had left a gaping hole in the corridor. Smoke was rising from it, and Marcus could hear water pouring in below. The explosion must have opened another hull breach. It was just a matter of time before the water got up to them. They had to get across before that.

"Smitty, you go first." Brock barked to the old sailor. He was the smallest of the three men; thus, he had the duty.

It was Brock's way of testing to see if the sliver of metal floor would hold their weight. Smitty did not protest. He knew that it was still their best hope of escape. The hatch was just down the corridor a few more yards beyond the hole. If they could pass this one last obstacle, they would be home free.

There was a bit of pipe running along the hallway above them. Luckily, it was hanging low enough that they could all reach it and put some of their weight on it so as not to overburden what remained of the hallway floor. Smitty wasted no time making his way across. He got to the other side and waved for them to join him.

"Marcus, you go next." Brock said.

"Are you sure Brock?" Marcus asked. "Maybe we..."

"I said it, didn't I?" Brock growled. "Now get going!"

Marcus did not argue. He climbed up and clung to the pipes. As he shimmied along the duct, he could not help but glance down into the hole below. The jagged metal opening looked like a mouth waiting to swallow him. He pressed on, and within a few seconds, was across. Finally, it was Brock's turn. His hands hurt as he gripped onto the pipe, but he powered through it and kept going.

A second smaller explosion rocked the ship and made Brock lose his grip. His full weight came down on a narrow part of the floor and it gave way under him. Marcus could only watch as the whole thing played out in front of him. It was like everything was moving in slow motion.

"Brock!" Marcus yelled, tearing up his throat and diving down in a hopeless effort to grab him, but Brock disappeared down into the hole. Marcus tried to get down onto his hands and knees to get a better look but burnt his hand on the floor as he did. The smoke stung his eyes as he crouched down next to the cavity. "Brock!" Marcus yelled down into the abyss. He heard no response.

"There's nothing else we can do here kid." Smitty came up and put a hand on Marcus' shoulder.

They lingered there for a full minute, waiting for a sign that Brock was alright. Another explosion rocked the area, and Smitty finally started to pull Marcus towards the exit. As Smitty dragged Marcus out into the night air, they found the remains of Captain Shack. It appeared that he had fallen while trying to escape and landed into a cluster of Gezora's poisonous barbs.

"You dumb son of a bitch, finally got yourself into a situation you couldn't get out of." Smitty said half-heartedly taunting, but also lamenting his Captain's death.

"Hey sailors!" Someone shouted from across the flightdeck. "Get over here and help me with this!" Marcus looked over to see a bomber pilot trying to push his plane into position to launch. The tail of the aircraft was hanging over the edge of the deck and the pilot did not have the strength on his own to pull it back up. Marcus and Smitty ran over to the man. They could see that all the other fighters had been dumped over the edge already.

"Help me get this bird ready, and I'll take you with me." The pilot offered.

"Are you sure that is the best way to go?" Marcus asked the pilot.

"Are you kidding? I'm sure not going to take my chances in that water." The pilot replied. "Thanks to all the chumming we've been doing, this whole area is full of hungry sharks."

"What happened to the rest of your crew?" Smitty asked.

"They went overboard." The pilot replied. "They're probably somewhere out there floating. When that bastard hit the flight deck, he took out most of the planes and my aircrew too. If they are still alive, they won't be able to get back up here before the Ranger sinks. We have to go now!" The pilot insisted.

Marcus took the time to look over the side of the Ranger. The flightdeck was tilting more by the minute as they took on more water. They were only a couple yards above the waterline and did not have much more time before the ship went down.

"Ok, let's do it." Marcus agreed. The three men quickly got to work.

Marcus and Smitty got behind the wings and started pushing forward while the pilot grabbed the tail of the plane and pulled as hard as he could. Slowly, the bomber moved forward, and they got the tail back on the deck. The pilot ran to the front of the plane and got Marcus and Smitty to help him start up the engine. Then they all scrambled up inside of the plane to take their seats.

Marcus' heart was pounding as he buckled himself in. His fear of flying was about to be tested under the harshest conditions possible. The bomber nudged forward and started to gain momentum as it taxied down the deck. Because of the tilted runway, the wing of the bomber came close to clipping the Ranger's island, but the pilot narrowly kept them on course. Marcus took one last look at the central hatch for any signs of Brock as they passed, but the doorway was empty. The plane continued to pick up speed and caught air just before running out of space.

The bomber skimmed the water, managing to stay just a few yards above the reach of the waves, but soon another problem became apparent. The course of the ongoing battle had brought Gezora into their flight path. The bomber was struggling to gain enough altitude to pass above the monster, so they were going to have to fly next to him instead. Unfortunately, Gezora had noticed them, and was beginning to reach out with one of his tentacles. The bomber was not a fast plane, and it would not be much trouble for the monster to swat them down as they went by.

As Gezora turned to face them, a spray of bullets from a pair of wildcat fighters struck him in the back. The Ranger's scout planes were beginning to return and distracted the monster just long enough to allow the bomber to sneak by. Once they were clear, Marcus could see Gezora had managed to destroy several more ships, though the battleships Washington and North Carolina where both still in the fight. The attacking fighters were buying the ships time to withdraw from the battle area.

The bomber pilot took them higher and higher, far out of the reach of Gezora. Now that Marcus thought that they were safe, his adrenaline started to wear off. The weight of everything that had just happened came crashing down on him. He started to cry in the cockpit. The other two men could not see Marcus sitting in the middle seat, and he hoped they could not hear him over the hum of the engine. Blood from Marcus' face dripped down onto his pants as the tears rolled down his cheeks. Just when he thought they were going to leave the area, the bomber pilot turned the plane around.

"What are you doing?!" Smitty yelled to him from the back.

"I'm not leaving this fight without getting a least one good lick in." The pilot said with a determined tone. "I have a thousand-pound bomb onboard this bird, and I'm not quitting until I get a little payback. I need whichever one of you is sitting in the middle seat to arm the bomb and hit the switch to drop it when I give you the say-so." Marcus realized that was him.

"I've never done anything like that before!" He shouted up to the pilot. "I'm not sure I can do it."

"Hey, I need someone to flip that switch for me, and right now, it just so happens to be you in the seat!" The pilot barked back to him. "You have a chance. Don't you want to fight back?"

Marcus sat there and thought about it for a moment. He remembered what happened to Admiral Nimitz, Lt. Commander Williams, and Sgt. Brock, and then he started to get angry.

"Okay, I'll do it!" He said to the pilot. "Just walk me through what you need me to do."

"That's the spirit!" The pilot almost cheered. "Hang on for just a moment, I'll get us back over the bastard, and then tell you exactly what to do."

It only took moments before they were hanging a thousand feet above Gezora. The monster did not notice them because the Wildcats were still strafing him. The pilot began circling overhead.

"Alright, first thing." He began. "You're going to see a switchboard in front of you. Take a close look at it. To the left, you are going to see the arming switch, flip it forward." Marcus followed his instruction.

"Okay, done. Now what?" Marcus asked.

"Wait just a moment, I'm going to get us into position." The pilot replied. "But when I do, you're going to see a switch next to the arming switch that says fire. When I give you the word, you're going to flip it forward just like the arming switch, okay?"

"Sounds easy enough." Marcus noted.

"It is." The pilot assured him. "Okay, now be ready." The bomber banked around and then started flying straight forward again. "Ready… steady… GO! LET HER RIP!" Marcus hit the switch.

"Alright, now what?" Marcus asked eagerly.

"Now we watch the fireworks from a safe distance, sailor." The pilot laughed.

Below, the bomb came down with a whistling sound. It missed Gezora, but only just. The bomb hit the water right next to him and ended up blowing off the tip of one of his tentacles. Gezora squealed in pain so loudly that they could hear him over the engine from a thousand feet above.

"I'd say from the sound of things, we did some good boys!" The pilot announced. None of them could see the actual damage. "Time to get out of here. If we don't reach the British carriers before we run out of fuel, we're going to be in a world of hurt."

"Can't we just fly back to Italy?" Smitty asked.

"No. It's too far." The pilot answered. "We'd never make it to land. Neither the Italian nor the French fleets have carriers either. The British are our best hope. "

"Hey, what is that?" Marcus interrupted. There was a light coming from below. Whatever it was, it was close to Gezora. The pilot tilted the wings and pressed into the turn so they could take a better look.

"That looks exactly like what I saw." Smitty told Marcus, seeing the light for himself. "You know, in the story I told you."

Below them, there was a pale light blinking next to Gezora. The monster saw it and began to retreat under the waves. Marcus and Smitty could only stare. They did not know what it meant.

"I'm retiring from the service after this." Smitty announced. "I've seen enough."

...

About fifteen minutes later, the bomber was coming through a bank of clouds.

"We should be getting close to the Italian fleet now." The pilot announced. Maybe an hour or so after that, we should be landing on a British carrier."

As they came through the clouds, the Italian fleet came into view. The sun was just starting to creep up on the horizon, which gave them enough light to see all the plumes of smoke rising into the sky.

"Holy Jesus!" The pilot said as he saw the entire Italian fleet was burning below him.

"What happened?!" Smitty asked. "This couldn't all be Gezora's work, could it?"

"No way, he was too busy with us." The pilot replied.

Down below, on the bridge of the battleship Littorio, Captain Garibaldi was struggling to keep his heavily damaged ship afloat.

"Captain, I have a damage report." Commander Giovanni announced. "The engines are badly damaged. We're barely making ten knots. We have fires burning through the aft and midship sections, there's also heavy flooding. We've sealed the hatches, but I think we've already taken on too much water. I don't think we can go much further in the shape we're in.

"What about weapons?" Garibaldi asked.

"Only turrets A and B are still operational." Giovanni answered. "C has been blown completely off. Not sure about the secondaries."

"Have you sent out a distress signal?" Garibaldi asked.

"The rest of the fleet is already going under." Giovanni replied. "We can't raise any of the other fleets on the radio because the transmitter has been knocked out. Sir, what should we do?"

Garibaldi was not given the chance to answer. A narrow green ray cut through the bottom of the hull of the Littorio and hit the main powder magazine. What was left of the battleship went up in a huge explosion. There were no survivors.

"What the hell was that?!" Marcus asked, watching the ball of flame engulf the Italian warship. "Did you guys see that…?!"

...

In the weeks that followed, the coalition fleets pulled back to port, and Gezora did not attack anymore. The area around the battle was marked hazardous. A 'No-Go' area for any shipping whatsoever. Dr. Orsini further studied the sample of Gezora's flesh that had been recovered and discovered that the cells had a remarkable ability to regenerate. Sadly, the revelation came too late to warn the fleets that had been hunting it.

After defeating the Russian Airforce, Mothra flew across the rest of Asia and then disappeared. The pair of Rodans quieted down following her disappearance. They were still active, but only attacked intruders who came into the territory they now claimed as their own.

The U.S. fleet was able to safely withdraw from their battle with Gezora, minus the USS Ranger, USS Omaha, and several destroyers. Survivors were rescued from the water by float planes, including one extremely grumpy Marine Sargent. He was reunited with his elated comrades who found their way onto HMS Eagle.

The French and British fleets returned to port, taking no losses during the operation. The Italian fleet was officially labeled as being sunk by the monster Gezora, but in reality, it remained a mystery that the authorities struggled to explain. Any relevant information and evidence were quickly collected and classified.

Admiral Nimitz was honored for giving his life in service for his country, alongside the men who fell beside him. His naval insignia was returned to his family along with an American flag. What remained of the American task force returned home for repairs.

...

-End of The Awakening Arc.