Chapter 27: Icey Reception.
Marcus was flying back to the Essex in his Sabre following his mission in Osaka. He was on final approach preparing to land on the carrier's deck. Marcus never much liked landing on carriers with jets. It was never an easy proposition and was inherently risky. He slowed his plane down and brought up the nose as he maneuvered towards the flightdeck.
'Okay… nice and easy…' Marcus thought to himself as he got closer. 'Don't want to end up in the drink.' He peered out over the side of his cockpit to the water surrounding the ship. 'This is always so much easier with the chopper, just pick your place, and done.'
While it was nice to be at the controls of a Sabre during combat missions, the slow and steadiness of a helicopter was much less nerve-racking for landings. Marcus inched his way down until his tires made contact with the deck. He bounced up and down in the cockpit as the full weight of the aircraft came down upon it. The Sabre rolled forward for about forty yards until it hit one of the safety wires and then jerked to a stop.
The deck crew was quick to wheel a ladder over to Marcus' plane so he could disembark. He popped the hatch to the cockpit and then stepped down from the aircraft. The flight leader, Lieutenant Larson, and Roger were both waiting for Marcus as he came towards the carrier's island.
"You really earned those wings today, Lieutenant Ryan." Larson patted him on the shoulder. "Nice shooting."
"I'd like to say it was all skill, but sadly, there was a lot of luck involved." Marcus confessed.
"That was the most intense encounter with a Kaiju I've had since we bombed that overgrown squid Gezora together in the Mediterranean!" Roger laughed, ignoring Marcus' deflection. The adrenaline was still clearly coursing through his system. "You still remember that, right?"
"How could I forget?" Marcus replied. "It remains my favorite near-death experience so far." He said half-joking. In truth, Marcus didn't like to be reminded of that incident. He'd lost several friends and a mentor during that battle.
"It was good to have you back with the actual squadron again Marcus, and not on one of those damnable reconnaissance flights." Lieutenant Larson commented, detecting Marcus' discomfort with the subject, and moving the conversation in a different direction.
"I have mixed feelings about it myself." Marcus replied.
"HEY, WE'RE GETTING CLOSE NOW!" A voice rang down from the lookout manning the crow's nest of the Essex.
The fleet was still steaming northward in the Kii Channel while Godzilla was making his way back down it. He was apparently still looking for Anguirus. Godzilla was on the surface of the water, wandering through the shallows a couple hundred yards off of the beach. The fleet was miles away from him, keeping their distance in the deep water. The Japanese gave strict orders to only observe Godzilla for the time being. As long as the monster was heading away from mainland Japan, they did not want him fired upon. A number of Japanese aircraft were keeping close tabs on him.
The Archimedes fleet was going to pass relatively close to Godzilla in the next couple of minutes. They were planning to stay at a safe distance, and then turn around to follow the monster. The guns of the warships were already trained on Godzilla, even from miles away. The radar-controlled cannons had a bead on him. The gunners were ready to engage the monster at a moment's notice if he should suddenly decide to head their way.
Marcus, Roger, and Lieutenant Larson ran over to the side of the ship where the gun crews were stationed. The gunners were constantly correcting their aim to compensate for both the movement of the ship and Godzilla's steps along the coast. Joe was now a gun captain in charge of his own six-inch battery. When Joe noticed Marcus standing there, he began to speak over his shoulder to him while keeping his eyes on the task at hand.
"Marcus!" Joe greeted him warmly. "Welcome to the party. I haven't hardly seen you since joining… well…, being 'forced' to join the Archimedes fleet. How have you been? Have you come to your senses and elected to rejoin the gunnery crew?"
"Oh, I'm just fine Joe." Marcus replied. "Sorry my old friend, I hadn't forgotten about you. I've just been busy lately with missions from the Admiral. I'll pass on re-enlisting; it tends to get me into trouble and I'm doing alright where I am."
"Think nothing of it." Joe smiled. "I've been hearing stories about your more recent exploits. Once we get past this, you'll have to tell me all about it yourself. It's been so long since I've been this close to a Kaiju, I'd almost forgotten the terror and exhilaration. It's a rush like nothing else."
"You always did like to live on the edge." Marcus recalled.
"I don't think this six-incher is going to do us much good if Mr. Big and Ugly over there gets it in his head to come attack us." Joe remarked. "However, I would like to see how he'd stand up to the high-caliber eighteen-inch rounds from the Nebraska over there." He gestured to the battleship which was sailing just starboard to the Essex. "I'll wager she'd have a decent chance of denting his armor." Marcus looked over to the huge warship, which also had her guns trained on Godzilla.
"With all due respect Joe, I hope we don't find out." Marcus commented cautiously.
"We'll never have a clearer shot at it." Joe noted firmly. "He's moving so slowly, and all out in the open. Makes for a perfect target."
Godzilla passed the fleet without giving them a moment's interest. The warships wheeled around quietly and started to follow him at a distance. Marcus, Roger, and Lieutenant Larson stayed on the deck in their flight suits just in case they were called upon to scramble in their fighters again. The order was never given though, and soon Brock appeared with new instructions for Marcus alone. Admiral Malek wanted him to resume his duties as an eye in the sky for the fleet again.
…
Three hours later, Marcus and Brock were once more shadowing Godzilla. The fleet had fallen back out of visual range by the request of the Japanese. They did not want to do anything to provoke Godzilla at that juncture, and they felt the sight of warships might do just that. Brock was watching Godzilla closely with binoculars from over a mile away.
"Is it just my imagination, or are you keeping more distance from Godzilla than usual?" Brock asked with a grin. "Feels like you're treading quite carefully…" He added sarcastically. Marcus was in fact staying further away than he had done previously.
"Yeah, well you weren't with me the last time I flew close to him." Marcus frowned at Brock for poking fun at him. "That look the monster gave me will haunt my nightmares for a lifetime."
"It must have really been something." Brock remarked with a slight smirk. There was quiet for a moment while Marcus appeared to be thinking.
"Well, I guess we're not going to help with the relief effort back in Osaka after all." Marcus said, changing the topic.
"It's actually more about clean-up this time." Brock observed. "While you were zooming around the skies playing tag with Godzilla, I was keeping track of the tactical situation from the bridge of the Essex. The good news is, the military and civilian casualties were both much lower than in Tokyo. That flare idea may have failed in the long run, but it bought the common folk enough time to get clear. Anyone who ended up dying in that city did not have a strong will to live, I can tell you that much."
"Do you think half of Osaka being destroyed will be celebrated as a victory, or just seen as yet another failure on our part?" Marcus asked.
"Ha, who can say?" Brock grunted irritably. "I've never had much time for politicians. They'll just do what they always do in a crisis." Marcus looked over to him, inviting an answer. "Try to use it to their own advantage."
"That's a little cynical, don't you think?" Marcus asked.
"Marcus, don't be naive." Brock replied. "It's always been that way, and always will be. I'm going to tell you exactly what's going to happen. One side is going to whip up their supporters one way, the other side will do the same, only with an opposing view. Everyone is going to get upset and argue about it. Neither side is going to budge on the issue, nothing will get resolved, and everybody will be frustrated and exhausted before the end. If we are very lucky… maybe something productive will get done at some point, but I wouldn't count on it. Politics are a headache, too often the common good is lost in all the scheming."
"Maybe, but I'm not ready to give up on the system just yet." Marcus grumbled. "Anyways, you'd think the intelligence we've gathered so far would count for something." He returned to the original topic.
"Well, the trouble with that, is our intelligence has yet to yield the type of results the-powers-that-be value most." Brock began to answer. "Godzilla scares them, and they expect us to take him down. They only see the Archimedes Organization as a military group that is meant to defeat Kaiju. So, from that perspective, we are failing in our mission. So far, we have no kaiju kills to boast about."
"Unless we understand Godzilla better, I don't think there's much chance of us, or anyone else, defeating him." Marcus observed.
"I don't think you're wrong about that." Brock remarked. "One has to know their enemies to beat them. It's a good, sound argument. Getting the politicians to be patient while we figure it out though, that's the tough sell. Admiral Malek was right about one thing: We need some kind of military victory to show our worth." Marcus leaned forward to make sure the radio was not turned on.
"Yeah, it's the Admiral's ass which is on a hot plate about those destroyers we lost." Marcus noted. "The USS Johnston, the Heerman, the Hoel, and the Roberts… I've been thinking about them lately. That was a lot of good men that were lost."
"Did you know anyone aboard those ships?" Brock asked.
"Amongst the officers…? No." Marcus began. "The crews though, it's very likely I knew some of those men. But even if I didn't, those were still someone's husbands, fathers, and sons. I was talking to Shauna about it when she was in Osaka. She has an ear in Washington. I don't think it's so much the fact that we lost those men and ships that has so many people at home up in arms, it's the fact that we took off without even trying to find or rescue them. Those poor sailors were just given up for dead and left behind. We're not even certain if all of them were killed for sure. We may have abandoned some of them and not even realized it." Marcus stopped to think on it more. Brock sighed, gearing up for a response.
"I know it doesn't seem like it, but it was probably the right thing to do." Brock replied quietly, taking Marcus by surprise. "We were not in a position to do any search and rescue. As it was, Godzilla was right on us, and visibility was bad due to the fog. If the fleet hadn't left right when it did, we would have risked losing even more ships and men. What it came down to was risking the lives of a few sailors who may have already been dead, or the lives of everyone else in the entire fleet. It's harsh, I know, but I think it was the right call. You think Admiral Malek got it wrong?"
"No, it's just... a difficult thing to come to terms with." Marcus answered. "I guess I'm just glad I didn't have to make that decision."
"Hey look, Godzilla is turning North." Brock leaned forward in his seat.
Godzilla had emerged from the Kii Channel and was indeed changing course. Brock thumbed the radio back on and reported the newest development to the fleet. After he had done so, Marcus shoved the binoculars back into his hands.
"Quick, take a look at Godzilla's hands!" Marcus urged him. "The palms, what do you see?"
"Okay, okay, I'll look." Brock was a little annoyed by Marcus' sudden uncharacteristic pushiness. "Don't get excited." He brought the binoculars up to his eyes and looked closely. "Alright, I just see hands. So what?"
"No wounds…?" Marcus asked eagerly.
"No." Brock answered, confused.
"Well, if you had been up with me last time, Godzilla's hands were dripping with blood from his fight with Anguirus. They got all mangled against his spikes. It's only been a couple hours, and they're already totally healed. That is damned impressive, don't you think?"
"You were saying something about regeneration before, is this an example?" Brock inquired.
"Yeah, given what I saw on the battlefield, I'd say it more or less proves Dr. Tadokoro's theory about Godzilla's ability to regenerate wounds rapidly." Marcus observed. "If a human had sustained an injury proportional to what Godzilla had, it would have left a permanent scar and would have taken weeks to heal."
"So, if what he said was true about Godzilla, then it would stand to reason that his theory about Anguirus having a similar, though weaker, ability is also reasonable?" Brock asked. "I wonder if all Kaiju heal quicker?"
"Well, I figure Godzilla is top of the food chain with that ability, and Anguirus is a close second." Marcus answered. "And maybe the rest of them have it too, though to a lesser degree. Godzilla and Anguirus are both just tanks that can absorb heaps of punishment." He went on. "Rodan, Baragon, and the rest are tough, but I doubt any of them could take the hammering that Godzilla and Anguirus subjected each other to in Osaka."
"Gezora was also a fast healer, despite his sponginess." Brock noted.
"That is true Brock, but in his case, after he was shot up by the Italian Navy, it was weeks before Gezora turned up again." Marcus countered. "And sure, he had fully healed given that much time, but it wasn't like he was fresh and ready to go again within hours like our friend ahead of us. I think Gezora's ability pales in comparison to Godzilla's."
Meanwhile ahead of them, Godzilla had waded out into deeper waters and dived, disappearing back into the ocean's depths.
"Shit, there he goes again." Brock cursed, preparing to report in.
…
The Rodans were finally withdrawing from eastern Russia and going home, but only after inflicting fifty-five thousand casualties, causing eleven-billion rubles worth of damage, and spreading untold terror amongst the Russian population. It was going to take years to rebuild everything the monsters had destroyed, and the people would never forget the two saurians who had darkened their skies.
Perhaps the damage had been bad enough to finally convince the Russian military to leave the Rodans alone in their own territory. In the short term, it certainly would. If for no other reason, the Soviets physically couldn't do anything to retaliate. The Russians also had an egg specimen to study now, and it might reveal a weakness to exploit given enough time to analyze it. In the long term, the Russians were waiting for a better opportunity to strike.
Dimitri at long last emerged from the tunnel and surveyed the countryside. It was heartbreaking. The rural landscape looked as if a massive storm had devastated the area. There had been a farmstead nearby. The crops were flattened. What was left of the buildings were in such shambles that they could hardly be called buildings anymore. Roofs were torn off and wooden splinters from the house had been scattered all across the yard. Clothing and other personal belongings were likewise strewn about. Heavy farm equipment was rolled over in the grass. Vehicles were crushed under fallen trees. Shattered glass dotted the ground and glimmered in the sunlight. A tin shed had been torn apart and sheets of metal were sticking into the trees.
What had once been a thriving Russian village nearby was in just as sorry shape. The buildings were reduced to absolute rubble with debris scattered about in the streets. Power poles were slanted to the side, bent by the winds, or were otherwise snapped in half like twigs. A fire had spread from the exposed wires and consumed several structures before burning themselves out. Branches were torn from every tree. Vehicles had been flipped over and crushed. A Russian flag had been ripped from its pole and was hanging off of a tree upside-down and torn to shreds. It was a powerful symbol for Dimitri that signified just how helpless they were to resist the monsters.
Worst of all though, there were numerous bodies visible from Dimitri's perch. They were covered in dirt and blood. The saddest victims among them were missing limbs or had been otherwise mutilated by the Rodans, who'd satisfied their hunger with a light snack. Just like that, Dimitri felt like he was back in the woods again. The same old horrors, but at what should have been a civilized place.
…
In Washington, the debate had started over the Battle of Osaka and the fate of the Archimedes Organization. On the one hand, by participating in the fight, the Archimedes fleet had bought the United States more good will with the Japanese on a political level. They had not taken any casualties during the operation either. Moreover, Japanese civilian deaths were kept to a very low figure and only half of the city of Osaka had been physically destroyed.
On the other hand, half of the city had been destroyed. If you were a glass half-empty type, which plenty of politicians were, it was another disaster. Additionally, Godzilla escaped virtually unharmed again, and the Archimedes fleet's fighter group's direct intervention allowed Anguirus to survive as well. It wasn't really a win, but it also wasn't a total loss. Senators on both sides of the isle debated the usefulness of the Archimedes Organization.
In the end, neither side of the argument garnered enough support to take any action. It seemed that the Battle of Osaka had bought the Archimedes Organization a little more time to prove themselves in the field. But their time was running short.
…
Seven days after Godzilla's raid on Osaka, Akira and Kiki were sitting down to lunch together at a restaurant just outside of the airbase. It was, in part, Akira trying to repay Kiki for the home-cooked meal she had made him when they first met.
"This is good, but it isn't as good as your cooking." Akira remarked, taking a bite with a smile.
"It's a fine second place." Kiki smirked, allowing herself a moment's pride.
"The chicken is a little dry I suppose." He winked at her.
"That is all well and good, but I get the feeling you didn't just bring me here for lunch." Kiki leaned forward in her chair, staring Akira down suspiciously. "There's something you want to tell me, and you're stalling for time."
"Well, yes… yes I do." Akira was surprised by Kiki's intuition and directness. He paused to find the right words. "Godzilla was last seen headed North. My squadron is being transferred up to Hokkaido to follow him." He lowered his eyes. "I don't know for how long, so I don't know when I'll be back." There was quiet for a moment, and then Akira looked up to gauge Kiki's reaction.
"You were afraid this would upset me?" She asked, seemingly unshaken by the news.
"Well… yeah." Akira leaned forward and took her by the hand. As he touched her, Kiki made an odd expression, and for a moment, she seemed a million miles away. Kiki blushed, then her eyes shifted and met with Akira's. He went on. "I've grown rather fond of you over the past two weeks. I'd hoped you'd grown fond of me as well, so I didn't want to disappoint you with this."
"Disappointed…?" Kiki echoed him, seeming to fully recover. "No. It's your duty and I understand. It would be selfish of me to expect anything else. Do me a favor though and be careful up there." Just then, the waitress came up to the table to check to see if everything was to their liking. When Kiki saw her coming, she put her hand on the waitress's shoulder. "We're not quite ready for the check yet, thank you." The girl got kind of a funny look on her face and then turned back the other direction without a word. "Listen, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about myself." Kiki turned her attention back to Akira. "It's kind of important. I've grown rather fond of you too, so it's only fair…"
"Akira, Godzilla has been spotted, the timetable for departure has been moved up!" Haruki shouted from the restaurant doorway. "We're leaving in a half hour. Got to get moving!"
"Damn…" Akira cursed. "Terrible timing… I have to go, but I'll write to you or call as soon as I land somewhere." He promised Kiki as he got up, quickly put some money down, and then left the table.
After Akira was gone, Kiki sat there alone, looking despondent.
…
In the port of Kushiro, located on the eastern side of Hokkaido, the Archimedes fleet lay at anchor. They had followed Godzilla underwater nearly seven hundred miles, all the way up the coast of Japan, before losing him again. However, Japanese intelligence felt confident that the monster was still in the area. There had been an unconfirmed sighting that was still being investigated.
Marcus was walking alone in the streets wearing a heavy jacket and gloves. The weather was starting to turn cold, and it wasn't just because they were further North. Winter was coming early to Japan. Light snow started to fall as Marcus neared his destination. Admiral Malek had sent him on an errand to collect a specialty food item he'd ordered. It was some kind of unique beef for steaks. Malek had given Marcus a note written in Japanese and a pocket full of yen to present to the butcher.
Marcus was annoyed with the chore, thinking it would be better suited for Ling to carry out since he actually spoke Japanese. But then Marcus remembered Ling hated the Japanese and preferred not to deal with them unless he absolutely had to. That aside, it did seem odd Malek didn't ask one of the numerous galley men to complete the task since it was specifically their job to handle food. Marcus could only conclude that this was some subtle form of punishment for something he said or did to annoy Admiral Malek. He'd also sent Brock on some menial assignment, so maybe he had caught wind of their conversation from earlier.
Annoying assignment and cold aside, the city of Kushiro was actually quite beautiful with the light dusting of snow. It felt like something Marcus had seen in a painting. Many of the buildings were of the old Japanese style. They certainly had a talent for aesthetically pleasing architecture. That was something Marcus had noticed in general about the Japanese, they didn't do anything in half measures. Even their common workers would strive to do their absolute best with menial tasks. They were a people who were constantly trying to improve and achieve perfection in all things.
It was starting to get dark when Marcus arrived at the butcher shop and presented the note to the man he found behind the counter. The shopkeeper read it to himself and looked up to Marcus, nodding. He disappeared into the back and then came out a few moments later carrying a ten-pound bundle of meat. The Japanese man set it on the counter in front of Marcus and then waited. He just stood there staring at him. Marcus quickly realized that he hadn't paid him yet and snapped into action. He pulled out the wad of cash and put it into the shopkeeper's hand. The gruff old man looked pleased with the amount and so Marcus picked up his purchase.
With the transaction complete, Marcus left the shop and began to trudge back towards the harbor. It was already pretty dark by that point, so he tried to pick up the pace. He didn't trust himself to remember where he had come from without being able to see the landmarks from the way in. At that point, Marcus wished he had a jeep at his disposal. He grimaced, seeing his breath in the cold. Malek was probably having a good laugh at his expense right about then. Marcus sighed, hoping he didn't run into any hungry dogs on the way back.
As he was walking, Marcus heard a noise up ahead. He stopped to listen. It sounded something like a garbage can being knocked over, but that wasn't all. There were footsteps moving rapidly in his direction too. Suddenly, he saw a woman in a cloak run in front of him. She zoomed from one side of the street to the other about forty yards ahead of him. She disappeared quickly down an alley. Marcus only caught a glimpse of her as she passed under a streetlight. Soon after, followed a pair of men that appeared to be chasing her.
"HEY!" Marcus shouted to them, but the men disregarded him and just went on after the woman down the backstreet. Marcus' adrenaline got pumping and he decided to join the chase. He wasn't certain what was going on, but it smelled like trouble. Once Marcus reached the street they had disappeared down, he could see the woman turning into an alley without an outlet. She was about to be cornered by the two men following her.
Marcus placed his package of meat on the shelf of a closed down newsstand and then ran as fast as he could to catch up. He thundered into the alley, looking around for the pair of men. He soon discovered them. Both were laid out on their backs. Now that Marcus could see them up close in the light of a streetlamp, he realized they were both Japanese naval officers. The two of them were both unconscious and had bruises forming on their faces.
'What the hell…?' Marcus thought confused.
As Marcus stood there, a figure stepped out from the shadows behind him. Marcus could sense their presence and turned to face them. To his surprise, it was the woman. She had a mask pulled up over her nose and mouth. Between that and the cloak, Marcus couldn't see her face properly, just the eyes. In a flash, the woman spun around and brought her foot right up into the side of Marcus' face. He would have been impressed by the grace, speed, and skill of it if he hadn't been hit so hard. Marcus was staggered, and saw stars in the corner of his eyes, but the attack had not put him on the ground as intended.
For a second, Marcus was too stunned to move. The woman in the hood struck at Marcus again, this time with her fist, but Marcus instinctively brought up his forearm to block the blow. He successfully managed to avoid the strike but was still too staggered to do much else. The woman in the cloak tilted her head to the side in a curious sort of way, perhaps she was impressed that Marcus had withstood two of her best attacks.
Apparently, she didn't want to see what Marcus was going to do next though. She turned and dashed away from him, jumping up onto a chain-linked fence and using the bar at the top to flip herself over with the finesse of a gymnast. After landing, she moved like a cat, nimbly avoiding obstacles as she escaped. Marcus tried to give chase but was too loose on his feet to effectively climb up after her.
Having little other choice, Marcus returned to the two Japanese officers on the ground and helped them get to their feet. He did his best to check and see if they were alright, but he couldn't communicate with them well enough to be sure. Once the officers had regained their composure, they walked away on their own. Not knowing what else to do, Marcus returned for his steaks. Fortunately, the meat was still right where he had left it.
Marcus didn't know it, but from a distance, the cloaked woman was watching him.
…
Marcus reported the incident to Admiral Malek, who made inquiries with the local Japanese base. It turned out the Japanese officers were chasing the unidentified woman because she had been caught trying to sneak into the local naval intelligence office. She was picking a lock when they had come upon her. It wasn't clear what her goal was, or who she worked for, but with the recent bombing of a Japanese naval facility that was still unsolved, there was fear that she was intent on some type of sabotage, espionage, or both.
Over the next two days, a door-to-door search of the entire city for the woman turned up nothing. She had vanished without a trace. Who she was, what her objectives were, and if she was somehow connected to the prior bombing incident remained a mystery. In the meantime, the Godzilla sighting had been debunked as a hoax carried out by some local teenagers out fishing. Their little prank did not go over well, and their punishment was severe.
With things settling back down again, Admiral Malek allowed sailors shore-leave for a couple hours at a time, so long as they didn't venture too far from the harbor. Thus, the men began leaving in shifts. When it came to be their turn, Brock insisted on taking Marcus to a gym to toughen him up. Marcus' jaw still had a sizable welt with brilliant shades of blue and purple from where the strange woman had struck him. He had been getting a fair amount of guff from the boys on the Essex. When Marcus and Brock arrived at the gym, they found Joe already there working out.
"Marcus, I heard you got beat up by a woman." Joe teased when he spotted him, coming closer to examine the damage carefully. "Damn… she got you good, huh?"
"Everyone has got to make a fuss..." Marcus grumbled, rolling his eyes, slightly embarrassed. "She kicked me and then ran away, that's all. And I think I recall you getting smacked around several times by girls too Joe. Only, you deserved it."
"He certainly does have his way with the ladies." Brock chimed in. "Remember that one time we came into port and there were two girls waiting for him? That turned into a real bloodbath." He laughed, recalling it.
"Totally worth it…" Joe retorted with a sly smirk. "Besides, maybe I liked it a little."
"Joe, you are just too much." Marcus laughed. Clearly, Joe had not changed very much over the years. Still so cocky and arrogant, and single. He didn't seem like the type of guy who would ever really settle down. "I bet they are still finding chunks of your hair on that dock to this day."
With that, the three men spread out to find unoccupied equipment. As Marcus was warming up for bench presses, he noticed a marine at the next station over looking at him. He was a fairly large man who was lifting about twice as much weight as Marcus was gearing up for.
"So, you're friends with Sargent Brock, right?" The marine asked.
"Yeah, that's right." Marcus replied, not sure what to make of the question.
"I'm Corporal Treves." The marine introduced himself. "I'm stationed on the USS Nebraska, but I used to run with Brock during my early days in the corps. I saw you come in with him. How is the old son of a bitch doing these days?"
"It's nice to meet you Corporal." Marcus reached out and shook his hand. "And he's fair I'd say. Though I wouldn't say the son of a bitch part too loudly around him."
"So, he's still kind of crotchety, huh?" Corporal Treves remarked with a smirk. "Is he married yet?"
"No, not that I'm aware of anyways." Marcus replied.
"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me much." Corporal Treves noted. "He's always been a little too gruff to keep the ladies around for long. Looking the way he does, he gets their attention easy enough, but he lacks the delicate touch they seem to like. Speaking of which, I'm guessing he brought you here to toughen you up, am I right?" Treves motioned up to Marcus' bruise.
"Jesus, even you know about that already?!" Marcus sighed.
"No, no." Treves assured him with a chuckle. "I have no idea what happened to you. It's just that I know how Brock is. He did the same thing for me years ago. I've gotten a little bigger and tougher by following Brock's example."
"What happened to you?" Marcus asked curiously. "If you don't mind me asking."
"Not at all." Corporal Treves answered. "You see, what happened is a bunch of us marines serving on the USS Omaha had one-day passes while putting into port in Hong Kong. This must have been like ten years ago. Anyways, one of the guys decided to go off on his own and got robbed by a street gang. They took all his money and beat him up. I was out looking for him and came upon the scene just as it was wrapping up. So naturally, I helped him get back to the boat. When we got there, Brock was the only one who was already back. I told him what happened and suggested that we outta get all the boys together and then go back and take care of business."
"So, you rounded up the cavalry and did just that?" Marcus inquired.
"Not exactly." Corporal Treves answered. "After I told Brock what happened, I set the injured marine down. By the time I turned back around, Brock was already gone. He didn't want to wait for anyone else. Thinking he'd need a little backup anyways, I managed to grab a few other marines who were nearby. It wasn't hard to find Brock. Once I got back to the initial scene, I found that he had left a path of destruction in his wake. There must have been four or five guys he had put to the pavement just with his fists. They were only the lookouts."
"Wow, what happened next?" Marcus asked.
"Well, we caught up with Brock just up the street a little ways." Treves continued. "By that point, he had found the leader of the gang and a few of his cronies. When they saw Brock coming, the underlings stepped forward to protect their boss. It was probably the worst mistake they had made in their lives up until that point. When they swung at Brock, he made them miss and broke one of their noses in retaliation. The way the rest of the fight played out, it was like watching two little brothers trying to fight their older brother, only Brock did not hold back. Arms were broken, jaws shattered. He slammed one of their heads down into the concrete curb. I saw at least one tooth fly out of the guy's mouth."
"Geeezz…." Marcus gritted his teeth sympathetically.
"After that, there was only the gang leader left to square off against Brock." Treves went on. "To his credit, the punk didn't run away or back down, even after seeing the beating his underlings had taken. He was the only one who put up a decent fight." Treves noted. "He knew some type of martial art, Kung Fu maybe…? Something like that anyways. But I'm going to tell you something Marcus, Kung Fu doesn't mean a thing when your opponent is built like a brick shit house and knows how to fight. Brock is bigger now, but he was still formidable even back then. Brock was 6 foot 4 and at least 275 pounds at the time. The gang leader was maybe 5 foot 3 and 150 pounds. When your opponent is a foot taller, and has say… a hundred pounds on you, it doesn't really matter if you know a martial art or not. Once he gets you to the ground, it's over."
"How long did he last?" Marcus asked.
"I'd say about a minute." Treves answered. "Maybe a little longer. The gang leader got one decent kick in, but then Brock caught the second one and drove him into the dirt. From there, Brock just pummeled the guy relentlessly. The punk was out after a barrage of punches and elbows connected. His face was a mess. When it was over, Brock just took the money out of his pocket, spit on him, and then walked away. He made an example out of that guy. Anyone who bothered United States Marines in Hong Kong from that point onwards could expect the same. A small crowd had witnessed the beat down."
"I suspect they understood the message." Marcus remarked. "Did you guys get in trouble?"
"Well, from what I saw, some of the gang members may not have made it." Treves answered. "They were in pretty rough shape. I don't know for sure. We didn't stick around afterwards to see what the fallout would be. We got back to the ship straight away, and it sailed by the next morning. If the local authorities cared enough to even investigate a bunch of street thugs getting beaten down, they sure didn't have enough time to catch up with us for questioning. But from my perspective, we did them a favor. I'm sure crime dropped sharply on that block for at least a couple weeks."
"Huh, well I guess that at least, in part, explains Brock's prejudice against Asians." Marcus observed.
"I suppose it does." Corporal Treves agreed.
"You two ladies aren't going to get any stronger just by standing around in here flapping your jaws!" Brock called to them from across the room. "Marcus, come over here and spot me."
"Nice to see you again too Brock!" Corporal Treves waved, calling back to him. Brock just kind of nodded in acknowledgement. "He's such a people person, don't you think? Well, it was nice talking to you Marcus."
"Yeah, thanks for the story." Marcus said before going to join Brock who was benching an impressive four-hundred pounds.
"Just make sure the bar doesn't fall on me." Brock instructed him before beginning ten reps. Marcus wasn't sure he'd be able to do a thing with that much weight if it actually came down to it. Thankfully, he wasn't put to the test. Brock had no issues lifting it.
"Damn Brock, how do you stay so strong?" Marcus inquired, impressed.
"You know all of those P.T. drills you keep ducking…?" Brock asked sarcastically.
"Alright, fair enough." Marcus replied.
…
After the weightlifting was over, Brock took Marcus out back and found some pads he could use for sparring. It was time for some lessons in hand-to-hand combat. While Marcus had gotten some instruction during basic training, it had been a very long time ago, and it was insufficient to begin with in Brock's eyes.
"I'm not really sure what the point of this is when we are going to be fighting giant monsters." Marcus complained, already tired from weightlifting.
"Not all of our enemies are going to be giant monsters." Brock remarked. "I think that should be clear enough by now." He gestured to Marcus' bruised jaw, somewhat mockingly.
"Point taken." Marcus surrendered, realizing Brock was right.
"Okay, let's start with the basics, your stance." Brock said, directing Marcus to an open spot in the grass. "First things first, widen your feet a little bit and bend your knees more. Your center of gravity is too high because you're standing up straight. Now stagger your feet more in front and behind you. It will be a lot harder for an opponent to take you down when you're low and wide, and you'll be able to react more quickly this way too. You don't want to get caught flat-footed."
"Okay, how's this?" Marcus made the requested adjustments.
"Much better." Brock noted. "Now, one of the most important things in any fight is movement. It's not about how hard you can hit your opponent; it's more about making them miss you. It's much harder to hit a moving target. Making your opponent miss a punch is going to cost them much more energy than you moving to avoid it. So, the best way to do that is to be light on your feet and be able to react quickly. I generally don't make the first move in a fight. It's a heck of a lot easier to counter-punch someone after they've committed to a strike. Use their momentum against them. Throw a mock-punch at me at one-quarter speed and I'll show you what I mean." Marcus followed the request and Brock demonstrated how to dodge and strike back slowly enough to illustrate his point.
"Alright, what's next?" Marcus inquired.
"If you know you can't avoid an attack, learn how to block." Brock went on. "Dodge when you can, but block when you have to. Defending yourself is much more important than attacking. Unless you're someone who constantly trains, you're going to get gassed-out real quick throwing punches. The adrenaline starts to wear off and then you're exhausted. Keep your head and make them miss. If you can do that to your opponent, they will get tired and frustrated missing you. Then, they will make mistakes you can exploit.
"Anything else?" Marcus asked.
"Protect your head above all else." Brock instructed. "If they hit you in the jaw or on the temple, they can knock you out in one strike or daze you enough to where you can't effectively defend yourself anymore."
"Yeah, I know that much." Marcus observed, rubbing his jaw. "What if I'm outnumbered?"
"Be tougher than they are." Brock smirked but wasn't joking.
"Brock, you are a gentleman, but with just the right amount of bastard." Marcus noted, smiling.
"Okay, now let's talk about offense a little." Brock went on. "You can't win a fight just defending yourself after all. When you do throw a punch, don't just use your arms. Put your shoulders into it and move your hips along with your fist so it flows like one fluid motion. You'll get more force behind your strike that way. But be patient, and wait for the right opening, or your opponent will punish you the way I've been telling you to punish them." Brock paused and put up his pad. "Ok, let me have one now." Marcus threw a halfway decent punch and hit the pad. "Good." Brock noted. "With strikes, it's quality over quantity that counts. Wait until you can't miss. Let's see… what else? I already know you can take a punch, so there's little point in talking about that." He Grinned.
"Ha… ha…" Marcus frowned at Brock.
"You always want to be ready for a fight, because you never know when one is going to come to you." Brock warned. "I train for a reason. If you are in better condition than your opponent and are better trained, they won't have much of a chance against you. But a lot of what you do or don't do during a fight is going to depend on your opponent. It's very situational. If they are bigger than you, stick and move with punches. Make them move around and waste their energy chasing you. If they have a reach advantage, close the distance and crowd into them. If they are faster than you are, try to take them to the ground. There's more I can teach you, but it'll have to wait until later. We'd better get back to the ship." Brock said, looking down at his watch.
"Alright, this was a pretty good start, I think. Thanks." Marcus started to put the gear back.
"Oh, and Marcus." Brock called back to him. "If you really have to… play dirty to win. There are no runner-up trophies for second place. It could mean your life, so don't stand on your honor. Do whatever it takes to win."
…
On the way back to the Essex, Marcus and Brock continued the conversation.
"So, I know the Navy didn't teach you all of that hand-to-hand stuff you were passing along to me." Marcus remarked. "Where did you learn it?"
"Mostly from my Pops." Brock answered. "He was a boxer, amongst other things. He had a simple philosophy when it came to people messing with him." Brock Paused. "Fuck around and find out. He didn't have my size, but he was fierce. He surprised a lot of guys in the worst way possible. He also signed me up for the wrestling team when I was in school. You'd be surprised how useful grappling skills can be in a fight."
"Did you get along with your old man?" Marcus asked.
"Heck yeah, we got along swimmingly." Brock smiled, a rarity for him. "Though he could be a little rough around the edges."
"Oh really…?" Marcus resisted the urge to laugh.
"It just occurred to me." Brock began. "You don't ever talk about your own old man."
"Well, I didn't know him very well." Marcus answered. "He was gone quite a lot, and he died when I was very young. He was in the Navy during the First Great War and his ship was lost during a mission in the Atlantic. They think it was sunk by a U-boat. One-hundred and five souls and his ship never heard from again. The vessel was last seen striking out on its own, leaving the safety of the convoy. It must have gone down fast. No survivors or wreckage were ever found."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Brock replied. "It must be a little tough not to have that certainty or closure."
"Yeah, my mother didn't like to talk about it." Marcus agreed. "It was a taboo topic to her. For a long time, I think she was still hoping he'd come back. I joined the Navy for adventure, but just as much so to follow in the footsteps of my old man. Kind of my own way to honor him. My mother nearly had a coronary when she found out. She didn't talk to me for ages, she was so upset about it. I guess she was just afraid I'd disappear out here too. Our relationship has been better since I married Shauna and gave her a few grandkids. Maybe it helps her sleep at night knowing that our family legacy is secured if something should happen to me. I'd hate to see the look on her face if one of my sprats decided to join the Navy too. That might finally put her over the edge."
"You know what Marcus; I think you get a little sick pleasure torturing your poor mother." Brock pointed out.
"You might be right." Marcus agreed. "But anyways, I don't even have that many stories about my father. Most of the guys who knew him best disappeared right along with him. So, it's not like I could ask anybody what kind of man he was. I only have my early memories of him. I recall liking him though. He was a warm and loving man from my vague recollections. It's a shame I didn't get to know him better. Maybe he would have taught me some of the things that you are now."
…
The next day, a Japanese fishing ship, the Suko Maru was destroyed. Her last radio broadcast left little doubt that Godzilla was the culprit. The sinking occurred due west of Kushiro, so the Archimedes fleet was sent to investigate. The Japanese meanwhile dispatched land-based scout planes in all directions. In the hours it took the fleet to arrive at the last known position of the Suko Maru, Godzilla was nowhere to be found.
As it turned out, Godzilla had moved North and circled around the northern cape of Hokkaido. A civilian scout plane spotted him moving even further North towards an unknown destination. After locating Godzilla, the scout continued to follow him, radioing in his position. Eventually, Godzilla landed on what appeared to be a snowy island with high mountainous peaks, but it was in fact an enormous iceberg that was slowly drifting South. What the monster was doing there was anyone's guess. Perhaps he was just curious. It may have been the first time he'd ever seen such a thing.
The scout plane called into headquarters and gave them the updated coordinates of the monster's location, as well as the details about the iceberg. The Japanese sensed an opportunity. The scout was ordered to continue shadowing Godzilla, but he was starting to run low on fuel. If he stayed too much longer, he'd risk not being able to make it back to base. Fortunately for him, help was already at hand. His friend, and fellow scout flyer, arrived in his own plane to take over surveillance.
Marcus was listening to the reports as they rolled in. He soon realized it was Shoichi and Kobayashi, the same pair of civilian pilots who had encountered Godzilla and Anguirus earlier on Iwato Island, that were currently tracking him. It was one of their company's ships that had been sunk. The two pilots had been transferred to the northern branch of their company when their holdings in Osaka were destroyed. The poor bastards just couldn't seem to get away from Godzilla.
The Japanese military acted quickly, formulating a plan on the fly as they mobilized their forces. Based on the scout's report, there was only one way in or out of the ravine Godzilla was traversing. If they closed it up, they could trap Godzilla and then attack him from above at their leisure. Land-based fighters were being scrambled to the iceberg, while at the same time, several landing craft with explosives meant to seal off Godzilla's escape route through the narrow passage of the icy canyon were following them.
The Archimedes fleet changed course to join the attack, but the Japanese forces were much closer to the iceberg, and they couldn't afford to wait for reinforcements to arrive to begin the operation. Godzilla was reportedly already moving back towards the entrance of the canyon. As it was, the Japanese fighters might not even make it there in time to initiate the plan before he was gone.
The civilian scout pilot, Kobayashi, recognized this fact and did his best to buy the fighters more time to arrive. Unfortunately, he did not possess weapons of any kind on his seaplane, so he was forced to resort to diving down close and buzzing right by Godzilla's head to get his attention. It worked. As Kobayashi's plane passed by Godzilla, the monster stopped in his tracks and turned, watching him climb up out of the canyon behind him.
The diversion only worked for a moment though. Godzilla almost immediately resumed his march towards the opening. He was only a couple hundred yards away from the water's edge. As it turned out, Kobayashi's gambit had been worthwhile. The Japanese fighters finally arrived on the scene and got straight to work.
Akira was leading the second squadron of fighters. The first squadron got into position above Godzilla and then began dropping their five hundred-pound bombs on him, six of them at a time. The bombs exploded all around Godzilla, but seemingly did little damage to the dismay of the pilots. Godzilla just shrugged them off like they were nothing and once more began to move towards the entrance of the canyon.
Not knowing what else to do, Kobayashi decided to buzz Godzilla a second time to prevent the monster from leaving. This time, Godzilla was ready for him. The bombing had antagonized Godzilla, and as soon as Kobayashi got close, he unleashed his atomic breath upon the seaplane. The aircraft immediately caught on fire, and Kobayashi lost control of it. He pulled up on the controls, desperately trying to escape the canyon, but failed to gain enough altitude.
Kobayashi's plane crashed into the icy peaks and exploded as his fuel line detonated. As the blast reverberated throughout the canyon walls, it caused an avalanche of ice to rain down on Godzilla. Within moments, the monster was up to his ankles in chunks of ice and snow. The flight leader, Tajima, who was in overall command of the raid, saw what was happening and got an idea. He called his squadrons over the radio and directed all the fighters who still had bombs not to target Godzilla, but rather the walls of the canyon around him. The idea was to bury the monster alive.
The squadrons quickly responded to their new set of orders. One by one, the fighters dropped their bombs onto the icy peaks around Godzilla. The plan was working to great effect. Godzilla soon found himself more than half buried. More and more bombs fell, adding to the frozen heap. When the planes were finally out of ammunition, Godzilla was submerged up to his shoulders in snow and ice.
With a solid plan in place now, the fighters withdrew, rushing back to base to rearm so they could return to finish the job. This time, Tajima wanted his fighters to switch to rockets. That way his men could better direct their attacks. Bombs were okay if you wanted to hit a general area, but with rockets, a skilled pilot could put their firepower right where they wanted it, so long as they were willing to fly in close enough.
…
The Essex, along with the rest of the Archimedes fleet, had closed the distance by the time the second attack was getting underway. They were now in range to launch their own fighters to join the assault. The Essex's jets were lined up in a row on the flight deck, just waiting for the word to begin.
Even Marcus was there sitting in his cockpit. Admiral Malek was committing everyone and everything he had at his disposal for this fight. There was excitement in the air. All of the pilots were raring to go. They knew there was an actual chance of victory this time. Word of the initial Japanese success was bolstering their courage. Marcus was just finishing up his final flight checks when word finally came down over the radio from the bridge.
"All fighters, launch, launch, launch!" The fighter-director ordered. The deck crew got to their stations and began motioning for takeoff to the lead pilot with their hands.
One at a time, the fighters ahead of Marcus took off, speeding away. When it was his turn, he looked over to the crew chief and gave him a thumbs up, indicating that he was ready to go. In return, the chief gave him the signal to take off. With that, Marcus's plane rocketed down the deck. Within seconds, he dropped off the edge of the carrier and caught air as he accelerated up into the clouds. Marcus increased his speed to catch up with the rest of his squadron who were all out ahead of him. He got into formation near the back, rising into position.
"We're on our way to ruin your day!" Roger crackled over the radio confidently. Several of the other pilots audibly laughed hearing it.
"Cut the chatter!" Lieutenant Larson barked from the lead plane. "We're going into battle, there's no telling what could happen out there. Don't get cocky and stay focused. But since you're clearly feeling talkative Roger, get on the horn with the Commander of Pheonix Squadron and ensure that they know to get lined up on our six. They don't get first crack this time."
"Aye sir." Roger replied.
…
Back at the iceberg, the Japanese landing craft had arrived and were getting to work placing bombs at the ice canyon's entrance. Three hundred yards into the canyon, they could see Godzilla beginning to claw his way out of the ice. The monster was making headway. They needed to hurry. The officer in charge on the ground had anticipated this possibility and was having his men prepare a distraction for Godzilla in case the fighters didn't return in time. Dozens of oil drums were rolled out into the entryway and lined up in a row.
The soldiers up in the canyon walls handling the explosives were finished with their work and coming back down. It wasn't a moment too soon. Godzilla was slowly climbing out of the ice and getting his footing. The men in the snow started to panic and withdrew just as quickly as they could. Godzilla was sluggish as he walked towards them though. The cold seemed to have taken some of the energy out of him.
Just the same, the soldiers rushed onto the landing craft in utter terror, desperate to escape. As soon as all of them were aboard, the ships hastily pulled away from the shore and then used their deck guns to set off the oil drums they had left behind. The fuel-filled barrels began to burn furiously as bullets ripped through them. Godzilla stopped to watch the fires. He seemed to enjoy the flickering of the flames and the heat.
While Godzilla was distracted, the commander on board the landing craft set off the charges in the ridge and the opening of the canyon collapsed in on itself. Godzilla just stood there watching the ice pile up in front of him. It came down in enormous sheets. The snow and ice eventually settled. By that point, it reached up to Godzilla's chest. He could have climbed over the mound if he had a mind to, but he didn't. Instead, Godzilla looked around trying to find an easier way out. There was none to be found. The monster turned and started back the other way, looking to see if there was another opening on the far end of the iceberg.
As Godzilla reached the end of the ravine, he discovered that it was a dead end. The only thing he found there was a huge ice wall. By that time, the Japanese fighters returned to the scene. They were close enough for Godzilla to hear their engines echoing all around him in the canyon. He once again turned to face the warplanes, feeling ill-tempered. The jets dove down and began to hammer away at the walls nearest to Godzilla. The high peaks poured chunks of ice down onto the monster.
At first, Godzilla wasn't sure why they weren't targeting him, but then the cold started to close in around him again. He wasn't going to take any more attacks sitting down. Godzilla used his heat ray to down several planes as they came in for another pass. One of the jets exploded mid-air, catching the full blast of his attack. The second one caught fire, and much like Kobayashi, slammed into the canyon wall. The fighter's rockets went off on impact, along with his jet fuel, sending a huge cascade of snow towards Godzilla and knocking him off balance. The next set of planes got their attacks off without any trouble.
Akira was in the fourth wave and got close enough to ensure his rockets landed right where he wanted them. Godzilla had recovered enough to take a shot at Akira but missed him. His ray hit the wall and only worsened the situation for himself. After the first four series of attacks, Godzilla was already half buried again. He was once more struggling to climb out, but at that point, the worst thing possible happened. The American fighters arrived on the scene with their extra hard hitting anti-kaiju rockets.
"Alright boys, light'em up like the Fourth of July!" Lieutenant Larson ordered, leading the first assault.
Godzilla saw three Sabres coming down at him and refused to allow them to carry out their attack unchallenged. He once again utilized his atomic breath and managed to cut down the lead plane. Lieutenant Larson's fuselage caught fire, and he veered off course. He was moving way too fast to bail out and his radio was still on. The entire squadron could hear him yelling on the way down before he collided into a sheet of ice.
The two planes following Larson made good on their attacks though and pounded the ice walls surrounding Godzilla. Three Japanese fighters took a turn next, and likewise, made progress towards burying Godzilla. The monster picked off another fighter before it could get away clean though.
It went on that way for a while, American and Japanese fighters taking turns making attack runs section by section, until finally, it was Marcus' group screaming into the canyon. Roger was in the lead and Marcus was following on his right wing. He noticed a huge chunk of ice hanging by a thread. Previous attacks had chipped away at it, and one more solid hit would bring the whole thing down.
Marcus quickly radioed Roger, pointing it out, and he agreed that they should target it. Godzilla was not out of the fight yet, however. He was up to his neck, but he could still move and defend himself. Godzilla waited until the fighters were at the bottom of their run, when they would be close to him and at their most vulnerable. Only then did he strike.
"Watch out Marcus, he's firing!" Roger warned, seeing the flash of light, but it was already too late.
Marcus fired his rockets away, but as he climbed back out of his dive, Godzilla's beam closed in and hit his left wing, sheering half of it clear away from the plane. If Godzilla had been able to move his head a little more freely, he would have completely engulfed Marcus' plane in fire.
"Shit!" Marcus' chest tightened up, realizing just how close of a call it had been. The skin on the side of his face stung, as if it had been burnt from the heat of the beam passing so close to his cockpit. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
Meanwhile, the massive sheet of ice crumbled as Roger and Marcus' rockets impacted against it. The mountain collapsed under its own weight and began falling towards Godzilla. It was inescapable for the monster. He couldn't move his arms or legs. Godzilla could only roar out in defiance as the inevitable closed in on him. He was finally buried from head to toe as a mountain of ice piled upon him. That didn't stop other fighters from closing in and adding to the top layer that was covering Godzilla. They wanted to ensure that he'd never be able to climb his way back out again.
In the meantime, Marcus was struggling with the controls of his Sabre. He just barely managed to get up and over the peaks of the iceberg, but that was about all he could do. A fire was rapidly spreading from his left wing to the rest of his aircraft. Once it got to his fuel tanks, it would explode. With half of his wing gone, Marcus couldn't effectively steer his aircraft anymore in any case. The controls were beginning to lock up. At that moment, it was clear that he only had one recourse left. He needed to bail out.
Marcus pulled the eject lever and he went flying out of his cockpit. His parachute deployed and he started to float down towards the water. He watched as his plane streaked through the sky and then exploded. Marcus drifted for just a few more moments before hitting the ocean. His parachute quickly filled up with seawater and dragged him under. Inch by inch, he was sinking further into the cold water.
Marcus kept his head and tried not to panic, remembering his training. If he didn't act quickly, he'd certainly drown. He took out a knife and cut the straps connecting him with his chute. Marcus then turned in the water looking for the light, knowing that was the way to safety. He finally found the sun and swam towards it. His lungs were starting to burn.
Marcus breached to the surface just when he thought he was going to run out of air. He inhaled sharply and started to recover, but now he was facing another very real problem. The water was cold as ice. He could freeze to death if he couldn't get out of it fast enough. He tried to swim towards the iceberg, but it was pretty far away. After a few minutes of swimming, hypothermia was starting to set in. Marcus' vision was getting blurry, and his muscles were exhausted. He'd gone as far as he could. Marcus blacked out three hundred yards away from the shore.