Chapter 38: Fallout

The consequences of the nuclear explosions in the Murmansk Oblast were immediate and devastating. For the Soviets, the news gave them some reason to rejoice, but as with many things in Russia, it was middled with grief. The startling events were both a triumph and a tragedy. On one hand, their homeland was finally free of the overshadowing specter that was the Rodans. But on the other, their victory had come at a very steep cost. The effects of which would cast a much longer shadow than the Rodans ever could. The Russian people and the land itself as a whole were to reap the fallout, both in a figurative, and also in a very literal sense.

Massive fires on the ground in Murmansk were feeding copious magnitudes of radioactive ash into the surrounding atmosphere. Eventually, the displaced mass of radioactive dust, smoke, and debris mingled with a storm system bound southward. Strong winds from the northern coast blew the radioactive rainclouds further inland and into the unsuspecting countryside. The clouds were so heavily polluted with contaminants that the ensuing rain came down as black as tar. Hundreds of miles of farmland and villages were tainted with radiation.

Even Moscow found itself in the path of the oncoming stormfront. The citizens of the city didn't understand what was happening. No one had been warned ahead of time, and thus, many people wandered out into the streets to witness the odd sight and got soaked in the black rain. Before it was over, the whole city was contaminated. Worse still, the radiation found its way into the city's main water supply. This was a crisis the Russian authorities simply weren't prepared for. In the days that followed, countless people fell ill, and many died as a result. Numerous others, who thought they had avoided the worst of it, would go on to develop serious health problems in the years to come.

As a more immediate consequence of the fallout, there were hundreds of thousands of casualties across the country and terror on a national level. Something as simple as a change in the winds was enough to potentially alter a person's life forever just by shifting the path of the radioactive storm. As for the impact on the land itself, the area in close proximity of the former Russian base was so thoroughly poisoned with radiation that it would be uninhabitable for the next twenty-thousand years.

The surface of the research base, the underground lab, and the monster eggs were all presumed destroyed in the explosion. No one could dare set foot on the grounds to verify it though. Photo reconnaissance taken from a passing spy plane showed nothing left on the surface. The Rodans had apparently been entirely vaporized by the blast as well. No trace of them was found either.

One big lesson had been learned through the tragic affair. The confrontation established that a Kaiju could indeed be killed by nuclear weapons, though the amount of devastation caused by the bombs were arguably more destructive than the monsters themselves. The explosions at Murmansk had been many times greater than the yield of the bomb deployed by the Germans at the battle of Kiev during the Second Great War.

One thing became crystal clear to all interested parties. If another nuclear weapon were to be deployed against a Kaiju, the time and place would have to be carefully considered in advance. A near miss could cause more harm than good. Dr. Tadokoro's theory about monsters being potentially strengthened by radioactivity still held a lot of weight in the scientific community, and raising another monster up to Godzilla's threat level gave chills to many men who held positions of power.

Perhaps if a monster could be lured safely away from civilization to a remote island, and a kill could be guaranteed, the risk would be worthwhile. Until such a time though, the world's powers would have to be conservative with their approach to using nuclear weapons against Kaiju.

…

In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, the cruiser USS Tallahassee was on a covert mission, steaming towards an unknown location. Prior to the Archimedes fleet being recalled back to San Diego, the Tallahassee had been detached and diverted away from the main fleet. Her mission was considered too important by Admiral Malek to call her back with the rest of the ships. He instructed the Captain of the Tallahassee to stay on course and remain on mission. Only a handful of her crew had any information about the nature of their operation.

Brock was aboard the Tallahassee. Admiral Malek had reinstated his rank of Sargent and personally selected him to command a marine detachment onboard the cruiser for the duration of the mission. Brock had some knowledge of what to expect, but even he didn't have all of the details. For the time being, he was just biding his time and waiting.

Word of the incident in Russia soon reached the Tallahassee and everyone aboard had an opinion about it. The emergence of over two-dozen new kaiju also had some impact on the crew. In short, everyone was worried and on edge. In the ship's galley, Brock gathered his squad of marines to address the issue and help ease their fears.

"Well, we can't just use a nuke every time a kaiju pops up." Brock reasoned. "There are simply too many of them now. We'd end up irradiating half of the planet. I think the government is going to have to be very careful and judicious about how and when they employ nuclear weapons. Perhaps only as a last resort. What's the point of saving the world from giant monsters if the human race can't survive on it afterwards?"

"Alright Sarg, I see your point now." Private Rusty Masterson relented. "Let's change topics. How about we discuss what we're doing out here, sir?" He suggested. Masterson was young, bored, and eager for some action.

"All I really know, is the Admiral has some anonymous source of information who insisted it would be in our interest to investigate an island at a particular set of coordinates." Brock replied. He could see that Private Masterson wasn't quite satisfied with that answer. "If it makes you feel any better, I talked it over with the captain earlier today and he said that we were nearly there. We outta be deploying by tomorrow."

Masterson immediately perked up upon hearing that, but Brock knew better than to get excited himself. All of Admiral Malek's missions had been dubious up to that point. There was no reason to expect this would be any different. It might end up being exciting, but it was undoubtably going to be quite dangerous too.

"Feels like a trap to me." Corporal Sunderberg pointed out warily. Sunderberg had a better head on his shoulders than Masterson. In general, he was a more cautious and competent marine. Both seasoned and battle tested.

"Why do you think he's only sending us…?" Brock retorted, smirking at Sunderberg. "The whole fleet could be sailing this direction right now if Admiral Malek was confident that this was a safe and worthwhile operation." He noted shrewdly. The corporal nodded in agreement, raising an eyebrow, and pointing approvingly towards Brock with his index finger while nodding his head.

"That's exactly what I've been saying all along." Sunderberg went on, looking knowingly at Private Masterson. "Just sending one ship? Face it boys, we're a calculated risk. Expendable if lost. This special mission has a stink about it." Just then, Dr. Steiner walked in with over a dozen technicians following behind him. The marines all noticed them.

"What's with the geek squad, Boss?" Masterson grumbled, leering over to them.

"What, Dr. Steiner and his tech boys?" Brock scoffed. "Those geeks are the one and only thing that gives me any confidence in this mission. You should be happy they are with us. The fact that the good doctor is out here in the field makes me feel more at ease. If Admiral Malek is willing to put him at risk, maybe… just maybe, this operation is worth-while. But more to your question, they are here for their technical expertise. We are on a salvage mission."

"What, why would they need marines for a simple salvage mission?" Private Masterson asked incredulously.

"Maybe it's not asimplesalvage mission chowder-head." Corporal Sunderberg countered, annoyed with Masterson. The comment brought a smile to Brock's face. He could see that he and Sunderberg were going to get along just fine.

"Wait, did someone find another UFO?" Masterson asked eagerly, shrugging off Sunderberg's insult. "Like what they found out in Roswell in the forties?"

"God, shut up Rusty, you'll spread your stupidity to the rest of us!" Sunderland barked irritated. "It can't be anything like that, right?" He looked over to Brock who was stone faced. "Right…?" Sunderland repeated, the confidence melting from his face more with each passing second.

"What I have been told is that there is a wrecked ship on the island." Brock answered cryptically. "It's supposed to be very advanced, and if we move fast, we have the opportunity to obtain some advanced technology. I don't know the particulars of the origin of the ship, just that Admiral Malek wants to get his hands on it really badly."

"What do you mean, if we act fast?" Sunderberg asked suspiciously. "There's a time limit?"

"I was told there's a shrinking window." Brock replied. "The informant told Admiral Malek that the proper owners of the ship are aware that it's missing, and they are actively looking for it themselves."

"Wait, this doesn't make much sense to me." Sunderberg noted warily. "Who could know about this advanced ship that would be willing to just pass along the information to us so freely? No, I don't like it."

"I wasn't told that much." Brock answered. "In truth, I'm not sure the Admiral even knows much about his informant, but apparently the potential prize is enough for him to risk our necks for it."

"Jesus, I might just call-in sick tomorrow." Private Masterson stated with a gulp.

…

The next day, Brock and his marine squad were in an assault helicopter flying over a sparkling blue lagoon heading towards an entirely unexplored island. Dr. Reinhart was along for the ride, but there simply wasn't enough room for any more of his engineers to join him. The helicopter would have to go back for them on a second trip.

"So… now that we're here, where the hell are we Sarg?" Corporal Sunderberg asked, looking back and seeing that the USS Tallahassee was shrinking in the distance behind them.

"Mondo Island." Brock answered plainly.

As the helicopter came to the outer edge of the beach, it began to circle around the island's exterior, looking for a wrecked ship. The marines peered out the windows, scanning the tropical landscape. If nothing else, it was attractive scenery. After several minutes of searching the perimeter, no ship of any kind had been found. Sunderberg looked nervous. To him, this meant that all of his worst fears had been confirmed. There was no ship, and they must have been lured into a trap.

Brock on the other hand, kept his cool and instructed the pilot to proceed further into the island's interior to continue the search. The pilot obeyed his orders, and the helicopter began to methodically circle the island in a shrinking spiral pattern, slowly taking them further and further in. Eventually, something caught Brock's attention. There was a huge section of trees that had been cleared away in a wide, straight-line pattern. That had to be what they were looking for.

As the helicopter got closer to the devastated line of trees, all of the men inside could see that there was an immense object laying at the end of the path of destruction. It was hard to put together what they were looking at for a moment. It didn't look all that much like a traditional ship, or even a flying saucer. Instead, it closely resembled a gigantic biomechanical shark. As the chopper got closer, they could see that it was indeed a machine and not some sort of animal.

The wrecked ship looked to be right side up but positioned slightly off kilter. There were two large gun turrets on the topside of the ship with some type of sophisticated cannons sticking out of them. The barrels appeared to be too thin to throw traditional naval shells. The hull of the vessel was a very dark shade of grey. There weren't any open areas for crew to stand on the deck. The entire ship was sleek and smooth by design.

"It looks like an advanced submarine." Dr. Steiner noted. "But how did it get this far inland?"

"Good question." Brock remarked. "That thing is at least ten times bigger than any submarines we have in service. It's almost the size of a battleship." He observed, impressed.

"Whatever it is, it's battle-damaged." Sunderberg pointed out. Brock could see that the corporal was correct. The ship had definitely been attacked. There were two lines of burn marks charred into the portside hull. Most likely the result of some type of directed energy weapon. The ship's armor-plating managed to take the initial hit, but whatever had attacked it, directed its beams into the main propulsion system at the tail-end of the ship.

"This could be Battra's handy work." Reinhart suggested. "He's been in the area recently and has the ability to inflict this type of damage."

"Could be…" Brock agreed. "He does seem to be getting around a lot lately. Didn't Marcus say that he saw some unknown fleet attacking Battra and it sank before he could identify them? This could be one of theirs."

"That's not a bad theory." Reinhart replied. "It would fit."

"Well, this is our chance to identify them." Brock went on. "Pilot, take us down into that clearing nearby the ship."

…

Once they had landed and got to see the wrecked ship up close, the size of it was all the more impressive. The vessel was otherworldly, and yet somehow seemed familiar. It was like a monolithic piece of art. Standing next to it, looking up, Brock had a deep feeling of foreboding. There was no telling what they might find inside.

"Okay, let's send the helicopter back for the engineers so we can get started." Reinhart suggested. He was clearly anxious to get a look inside the ship and discover the secrets within.

"Just hold up a minute." Brock intervened. "We still need to clear that ship before you and your team go in. What if there are still hostiles alive onboard? What are you tech-boys going to do, throw wrenches at them?" Reinhart looked annoyed, but there was no getting around the truth of what Brock said.

"Okay, but just remember, there's a ticking clock element here Sargent." Reinhart reminded Brock. "We don't have an unlimited amount of time to accomplish our mission. With that said, how do you plan to get in?" Reinhart asked.

"How's that main hatch coming along?" Brock shouted up to his combat engineer who was scouting around on top of the craft.

"Well sir, it's a very strange metal, definitely stronger than steel." The engineer reported. "Most likely an alloy we haven't discovered yet. I haven't been able to force the hatch. Can't even put a scratch in it. Thinking maybe a demo charge might be the next best option. With your permission, I'm ready to go with it."

"Proceed." Brock called back to him flatly.

"Yes sir…" The engineer replied. "All clear!" He warned. A moment later, there was a moderate explosion which echoed across the hull of the ship. Brock could see a plume of smoke rising up from above. There were a few moments of silence. "Okay, that didn't do it either Sarg."

"Damn." Brock muttered.

"May I make a suggestion?" Reinhart inquired.

"Yeah… sure." Brock grumbled irritated.

"My technicians have welding tools on the Tallahassee." Reinhart began. "If you allow me to send for them, we might be able to burn our way in. We can open the ship up for your marines at the top and then maybe cut a secondary hole in the side here where the blast damage made the armor thinner." He pointed to it with his index finger. "That way, any useful components we find can be taken out the side instead of hauling them up out of that narrow breach."

"Alright Doc, get back to the helicopter and get the process rolling." Brock surrendered, looking down at his watch.

…

"Almost got it." A technician announced about an hour and a half later, continuing to cut his way through the protective seal of the derelict ship. As he moved the blow torch millimeter by millimeter, the long process of burning through the hatch was nearly complete. The material was proving stubborn, and the process had taken far longer than expected.

Finally, a metal clank could be heard as the hatch settled against its frame. Several other technicians with crowbars came forward to assist the first, lifting the hatch up and out of the way. Once they were able to open the lid and get a handle on the cap, they discovered something pretty remarkable. They found that, despite its obvious strength and heat resistance, the metal making up the hatch was surprisingly light. The lead engineer was able to easily lift it over his head before sliding it down the side of the ship to the ground. Once there, Reinhart inspected the metal for himself. He immediately recognized its value.

"This is our first prize." Reinhart smiled. "Make sure that goes straight to basecamp. The metallurgists back home are going to have a field day examining the elemental makeup of this piece." He handed it off to one of his assistants.

"Okay, now it's our turn." Brock and his marines stepped forward, weapons ready.

"By all means…" Reinhart moved aside, gesturing for them to pass.

The marines began to climb up the robe ladder that had been placed there to enable men to ascend to the conning tower of the derelict vessel more easily. The ship's hull was curved, making the trek a little easier for the marines. When they had made it to the top, they could see for a quite a long ways. They were easily thirty meters off of the ground.

The engineers near the open breach made room for the marine squad as they crowded around the aperture. Brock carefully peered over, down into the abyss where the hatch had once been. He saw nothing but darkness below. He wasn't surprised by that. Brock turned the flashlight at the end of his assault rifle on and looked down again. There was a ladder connecting the conning tower to the rest of the ship. He could make out metal floor paneling a few meters below.

The rest of the squad just stood there, anxiously waiting on Brock. Who was he going to order to take point position? If anyone or anything was waiting for them at the bottom, the first person in was going to be practically defenseless while on the ladder, and everybody knew it. Whoever went in first had to accept that they were going to be vulnerable for a few seconds.

Finally, Brock took a deep breath and then climbed over the edge himself. He wasn't the type of officer to ask a subordinate to do something he wasn't willing to do himself. As Brock crossed over the threshold and began to clamber down the ladder, he listened closely for any signs of life. There wasn't a sound to be heard aside from the metallic clanks of his boots against the rungs of the ladder.

Five feet from the bottom, Brock turned around on the ladder and then jumped down with his weapon ready. He landed with an echoing thud and quickly panned the room with his flashlight and the muzzle of his gun. To his relief, the room was totally empty. No signs of an ambush. Brock turned his attention upwards and toggled his flashlight on and off a couple times to signal to his men, indicating that it was safe to follow him. As the marines began to climb down after him, Brock turned his attention back to the unknown in front of him. There was only one adjoining room to move into and investigate. It had heavy metal doors, but they had been left partially ajar. There was enough space for Brock to wedge his body in between the doors.

Once in position, Brock used the strength of his legs to force the doors open further. From there, he peeked around the corner to see what was inside. For a moment, Brock's heart leapt, and his adrenaline started pumping. Just inside the room, there appeared to be three men standing in a line waiting for him. Brock brought his weapon up and prepared to open fire. However, before he did, the light on Brock's gun illuminated his targets and he could see that they were in fact simply a row of pressurized diving suits, complete with big round helmets. Upon further inspection, Brock could see that they were totally empty.

Brock let out a sigh of relief and then came into the room to get a better look at the suits. The room appeared to be a changing area. There were alcoves built into the walls which were undoubtedly lockers. Brock looked back at the heavy doors he'd just passed through and guessed at their purpose. He figured when they were closed, they'd be watertight. Brock backtracked a little and decided the previous room was an airlock of sorts. There were holes in the floor where water could have been pumped in and out from. From there, the crew could open the outer hatch and sortie from the conning tower if they wanted.

Brock turned his attention back to the suits in the second room. Getting a better look at them with his light, he discovered that they were rather bizarre. They were quite ornate and seemed unnecessarily armored for something simply meant to explore the ocean floor with. Something else struck Brock as being fairly strange about the suits. He didn't see any hoses or any ports for hoses to be connected to them. Nor were there air tanks attached to the suits. Instead, there was only a small backpack where the tanks normally would be. The apparatus appeared to be a filter of some sort.

Brock placed the suit back where he found it. The engineering team would have to sort out what they were. One final thing that was plainly missing from the units was any type of identifying markers. Because of that, there was no way of knowing their country of origin, though it was probably expecting too much to find a flag patch on the arms. The rest of Brock's men had joined him by that point, and it was time to move on.

"Okay boys, as you can probably tell already, this isn't exactly a run of the mill operation." Brock began. "I was going to break us up into smaller teams to speed things along, but I think we're going to be better off staying together in one large group."

"That bad, huh Sarg?" Private Masterson commented cynically.

"Listen up marines, I only want to say this once." Brock went on, mostly ignoring Masterson. "I don't want anyone touching anything in here without asking me first. There's no telling what we are going to find. Leave the button pushing and experiments to the eggheads. We are jarheads, we don't get paid to do that sort of shit. We're just here to ensure there's nothing dangerous. Try not to fire your weapons if you can help it. If you feel like your life is in danger, defend yourselves, but think before you shoot. There could be canisters in here that go boom. It might seem pretty quiet, but don't let your guard down. If you got a question, ask, otherwise just follow my lead."

"Yes sir!" The majority of the marines replied in unison.

The tension was high as the marines went about exploring the ship. It was tight quarters inside the derelict, which wouldn't serve the squad well if they got into a firefight. The narrow corridors had the marines all stacked up like fish in a barrel. Brock even briefly reconsidered having them break into smaller groups again.

It didn't take long for Brock and his men to start finding former crewmembers of the ship. In the third passageway they went down, they discovered a body lying on the deck. It wasn't what they expected. The body was humanoid, but more than that, the corpse appeared to be human. He had been a warrior of some type, clad in golden armor. The man was definitely dead. His skin was ghostly pale.

"Is he human Sarg…?" Corporal Sunderberg asked, somewhat surprised. After seeing the ship, Masterson had nearly convinced the rest of the marines that they'd be finding little green men aboard.

"Sure looks like it." Brock knelt down next to the dead warrior and carefully removed his helmet. The deceased man had a full head of dark hair and was Caucasian. By the looks of him, he appeared to have a European ancestry, but there was something else curious. Perhaps it was simply because he was dead, but Brock thought the man's skin looked odd. It had a strange texture to it. Brock couldn't put his finger on it, but it was just off. As a sign of respect, Brock replaced the warrior's helmet before examining the rest of the body.

Much like the diving suits, the warrior's armor was quite ornate. It oddly resembled that of a hoplite soldier. In particular, the helmet, which had some of the hallmarks of a Corinthian design. There were large cheek guards, a distinct nosepiece, and a solid metal crest at the top. The armor was not made out of brass or bronze though, and it definitely was not meant for an ancient soldier. Brock could see at a glance that the armor had more advanced features. Like the ship's hull, the metal of the armor was relatively light for its thickness. It would not have slowed down the warrior much in battle.

The fallen soldier carried a couple of weapons. One of them was not unlike a sword a hoplite might carry, though it looked longer and more vicious than a Greek xiphos. Brock couldn't help but think back to the massacred Red Bamboo soldiers they'd found. This weapon could have easily inflicted the sort of wounds they saw there, severed limbs and hacked up bodies.

On the warrior's hip, he had an advanced pistol of some type. There was no magazine for bullets, so it clearly fired something else. Brock was tempted to pick it up and try it out, but his better judgment told him that it would be a bad idea to fire it inside the ship. It was just one more thing for Dr. Steiner's team to analyze.

The marine squad moved forward, carefully continuing their sweep. Deck by deck, room by room, they investigated the ship. Many more bodies were found. It appeared that the entire crew had perished in the crash. Not all of them were clad in armor. In fact, the majority of the crewmen wore simple ivory tunics or white military uniforms with gold buttons that weren't unlike a proper Navy officer's attire. Still, their clothes were different enough to where Brock couldn't pinpoint a specific country of origin.

After a while, the squad made their way to what appeared to be the ship's engine room. The equipment seemed to be intact for the most part, though identifying what any of it did was another story altogether. At the center of the room, was a metal column with a blue orb hovering in the middle of an energy field. It gave off a flickering light that lit up the rest of the room. From the light that it cast, Brock noticed a shadowy figure moving behind one of the consoles. He hardened his resolve and came around the corner with his weapon ready. He ended up finding a surviving member of the ship's crew.

The survivor looked up when he saw Brock standing there. The man had brilliant greenish-blue eyes, but there was a terrible desperation in them. Brock could tell that the survivor was in very poor shape, and that he badly needed medical attention. Unfortunately, the closest help available was sickbay on board the USS Tallahassee and moving the survivor at that point was very questionable. The man appeared to have severe internal injuries and trying to relocate him could make them worse.

Brock stood there thinking, not certain how to proceed. The survivor meanwhile reached up towards him in desperation. Brock felt compelled to kneel down and take his hand. He was suddenly reminded of a time when he was a kid when he found a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. He had the same terrible feeling of impotence, not being able to do anything for it, despite his best intensions. It was not a sensation he cherished.

The survivor took some comfort in Brock's touch and then said something weakly. Brock couldn't understand him though. If Ling had been there with them, maybe they could have made some sense of it, but Brock had never heard such a language before. He couldn't make heads or tails of it. Brock did the only thing he could think of at the time and offered the man a drink of water from his canteen. Judging by the state of the other crewmembers, the survivor must have been laying there on the floor for days. He had to be dangerously dehydrated by that point. The man took a sip of the water and then passed out.

"He looks like he's in real bad shape Sarg." Private Masterson pointed out.

"I can see that private." Brock grumbled annoyed. "See if we can get the helicopter to go back for the ship's doctor. Maybe we can get this guy medevac'd to the ship once he's stable."

…

An hour later, the sweep of the derelict vessel was complete. Afterwards, Brock and his marines set up a hidden basecamp in the brush nearby the crashed ship. It was mostly just an area where they could securely store the hardware they'd collected from the wreck, prior to sending it back to the ship.

The helicopter was occupied with making trips back and forth from the Tallahassee. The lone survivor of the derelict had been taken back to the ship as planned, but his odds of survival were considered slim. He was in the hands of the ship's surgeon now. Meanwhile, crewmen from the Tallahassee were being brought back to help move components and casualties to basecamp. A mass grave was being dug out for all of the victims of the wreck. It was the best they could do for them under the circumstances.

While that was going on, Reinhart and his engineers were hard at work studying the ship and all of its contents. They had finished cutting a hole in the bottom of the craft, where the armor plating had been mostly blasted away by Battra. Doing so had indeed sped up the process of removing ship components.

Brock figured Admiral Malek would be very pleased. They'd hit the jackpot with this discovery. The handheld weapon Brock found was some sort of laser pistol. Once he'd gotten it outside, he tried the gun out on a tree. The weapon fired a powerful green ray which easily shredded the trunk in two. The warship itself had gun mounts on it that were twenty times larger than the pistol, which no doubt would fire an even more powerful variation of the beam.

Brock was also playing around with a sword he'd taken off the fallen warrior and found that it was incredibly sharp. On top of that, he discovered a button inside the hilt which activated an energy field which allowed the blade to cut through material as dense as metal with relative ease. He tested the durability of the soldier's personal armor and learnt that it was sturdy enough to deflect bullets.

Between the weapons and armor stripped off of the dead warriors, and the armory they'd discovered near the end of their search which contained additional laser rifles, they had enough equipment to kit out well-over a hundred soldiers with the advanced armaments. It was all packed away and ready to be sent back to the Tallahassee.

The metal hull from the derelict ship alone would have countless applications if they could just reverse engineer it. A light and strong alloy would be a powerful combination for the defense industry. Reinhart, however, was more interested in the ship's drive system. At the end of the first day, he sat down with Brock and described what he thought the various sections of the engine room were for. He didn't fully understand how their power system worked yet, but he figured it had to run on some form of fusion.

The floating shiny bobble Brock had found was a type of electromagnetic drive designed to push against the Earth's magnetic field. If sufficiently powered, the drive could allow even a massive ship to defy gravity, to float in essence. But there were limits to how far up the craft could go. The more electricity applied, the stronger the push, and thus, the more altitude a vessel could achieve. That would go a long way into explaining how the derelict ship found itself so far inland. It wasn't on or below the waves when it was attacked, it was actually far above them. That would also explain why the vast majority of the crew were dead. They didn't survive the impact when they hit the ground.

Reinhart knew smaller and more traditional aircraft could fly much higher and faster, and the black shark warship still needed regular engines for propulsion to navigate the skies. Nonetheless, this new technology opened the door for flying warships of their own. Men and material could travel the world much quicker given a little time for development. Such a thing could revolutionize travel, trade, and warfare.

As evening set in, all of the men working on the derelict returned to the camp for the night. A special space was set aside for the helicopter. It was covered with a camouflaged net just to be safe. The next morning, it would be loaded up with samples of the various discoveries they'd made and taken back to the Tallahassee. Spirits were high. The mission had already been overwhelmingly successful, and it could only get better from there.

It wasn't all roses though. Before the night was through, one last piece of news came over the radio from the Tallahassee and it soured Brock's cheerful disposition. The survivor had died on the operating table. He was simply too weak and badly wounded to make it through surgery. They had not gotten to him soon enough. His body was being kept on ice in the ship's morgue for later study. Some genetic testing might give them some clues as to who he was and where he came from.

At that point, they were no closer to discovering who these people were and who they owed their allegiances to. Some written materials were discovered on board the ship, but no one could make much sense of it. Ling would have first crack at it when they got back. If he could translate the manuals found in engineering, it would help the technicians decode the advanced technology that much faster.

…

The next morning, the USS Tallahassee was anchored off the coast, quietly waiting for the day's events to unfold. As the sun rose, a bugler came over the ship's intercom to rouse the majority of the crew. Slowly but surely, the ship came alive. The night watchman in the crow's nest stretched and prepared to be relieved from his post. It had been a long, uneventful watch, but that was about to change.

Out on the ocean, silhouetted against the burning orange color of the rising sun, the lookout saw an object moving in the water. It almost looked like a huge shark fin cutting a path straight towards the Tallahassee. Alarmed, the watchman rose to his feet and took up his binoculars to get a better look. The object was about six-hundred yards away from the Tallahassee and closing fast on an intercept course. The lookout panicked and grasped wildly for the intercom to warn the bridge of the oncoming threat. As they responded to the watchman, he could see two bright yellow eyes burning below the waves of rolling seawater. It did not bode well.

As the black mass got closer to the surface, the watchman didn't know what he was looking at. He assumed it was a Kaiju coming towards them. Finally, the object came fully to the surface and the lookout saw what resembled a megalodon shark. But the eyes weren't organic, and the watchman could see gun turrets sticking out of the dorsal side of the hull. It was a warship.

The intruder held its course, moving straight towards the Tallahassee. When it was three-hundred yards away, the black shark's forward gun turret opened fire, shooting a green energy beam. It struck the Tallahassee amidship and cut right through her armor belt. A cascade of explosions followed. The Tallahassee was ripped in two and the watchmen's tower toppled over, spilling the lookout out into the salty seawater below.

Next, the two halves of the Tallahassee were targeted by the black shark, even though the cruiser was well-beyond being able to defend itself by that point. The green energy weapons of the attacking ship swept over the two halves of the Tallahassee, annihilating every inch of her. No quarter was given. No survivors was their expectation. Once the Tallahassee was blasted from the surface of the ocean, the black shark engaged its magnetic drive and rose out of the water. It then activated its airborne engines; all the while water was continuing to pour off of it. Slowly, the ship started moving towards the island.

…

Meanwhile on Mondo Island, Brock and the other members of the salvage party heard the explosions coming from the coast. Without hesitation, Brock started to bark out orders. He had some idea of what had just happened, and his first priority was to avoid detection. Their helicopter was still hidden, and it would be best to leave it that way. If the Tallahassee had been destroyed, as Brock suspected, then there was nowhere the helicopter could take them anyways. They weren't in range of any other inhabited islands.

Admiral Malek knew where they were. If they could just hold out long enough, another ship would be dispatched to fetch them. If not for the sake of the men, then for the sake of recovering materials from the ship they'd plundered. Malek wouldn't let those slip away so easily. Brock instructed the engineers to secure everything they could and retreat further into the jungle. Meanwhile, the sailors struck camp as quickly as they could. If their tents were discovered, they'd be hunted down like dogs. They needed to erase any trace that they'd been there. With everything he'd seen, Brock knew they had no chance in a fight. Their only hope was to somehow be overlooked.

Within minutes, the salvage had been secured and the camp was packed up as best it could be. The only thing left that might give them away was the helicopter. Brock and the marines decided to push the chopper as far back into the tree line as they could and hope that would be enough. By that time, they could already hear the hum of strange engines approaching from the coast. Everyone ran for their lives into the jungle. Once there, Brock circled around onto a heavily wooded cliff to get a better look at the oncoming threat.

As Brock peeked out, he saw just what he expected. The advanced warship was pushing its way inland, floating over the trees towards its crippled sistership. Brock anticipated seeing landing parties going down to have a closer look, but he was very wrong about that. The black shark warship turned its weapons on the derelict, blasting volley after volley at it in a frightening show of force. Little by little, the wrecked ship on the ground was demolished and Brock began to understand. Whoever these people were, they didn't want any evidence of their existence, or technology, to be left behind for anyone else to find. Still, it felt cold-blooded not to check for any survivors first.

Once the job was done, the warship turned and approached the edge of the jungle. It came down low and deposited several squad's worth of warriors on the ground. Suddenly, Brock's blood felt like ice cubes were running through it. They had cleaned up the camp and hid the helicopter, but the mass grave they dug out was still there in plain sight for anyone to find. If it was discovered, the whole landing party would be in a lot of trouble. That little piece of mercy might have cost them.

However, just as the warriors approached the outskirts of the camp, they came to a dead stop. The whole lot of them stood there for a moment staring at something before turning tail and running back towards their ship. Brock sat there watching and not understanding. They continued running until they were all the way back to the black shark warship. Once there, the vessel hastily pulled their warriors up into it with a yellow energy beam.

Suddenly, a huge boulder came flying into the area, landing just fifty yards away from the black shark vessel. The warship powered up its engines and began to rise. It floated backwards, away from the oncoming threat. After a few seconds, a long and stripped-down tree came flying in like an enormous lawn dart. The pointed end of the projectile just missed the bridge of the warship, and the length of the wooden shaft skidded across the bow, testing the durability of the metal.

A strong echoing roar filled the entire landscape, and the source of all the flying debris came into view. Brock saw King Kong charging towards the black shark warship, giving them all the grief he could muster. Kong tossed a second smaller rock like a baseball at the warship. It hit home, colliding with the vessel, and knocking out one of the searchlights within its left eye port.

The black shark's guns fired at Kong in retaliation but having been knocked off course by the impact of the rock, the beams missed him narrowly. Kong was looking a little rough. He still had hunks of fur missing that had been burned away during his fight with Godzilla. Much of it had yet to grow back. His disheveled state didn't reduce his perceived level of threat, however. If anything, Kong looked even more intimidating that way, battle-hardened, and angry.

The black shark warship shifted its heading and appeared to put all of its available power towards its engines. It managed to speed away much faster than it had arrived. Kong seemed happy to see it go, halting his assault, and just watching it retreat. Brock was also relieved to see the warship departing, though he and the rest of the men certainly weren't out of the woods yet. They were still stranded on a remote island and now they knew it had a giant monster on it.