It was a submarine, fully surfaced and speeding towards them across the surface at an alarming speed. From this angle, the just-barely visible symbol of the hammer and sickle painted on the tower confirmed that it was Russian. A crewman – Smith could not discern his rank from this distance – stood halfway out of the hatch, waving his arms like a lunatic and shouting something in the fleet’s direction.
“Orders, Sir?” asked Hicks.
Smith said nothing as he continued to stare, trying to figure out what was going on.
The sub drew closer. The entire fleet would be able to see it clearly now, and indeed, their spotlights were focused on it. The approaching enemy vessel continued on its course.
“Sir? Your orders?”
The radio crackled to life with the voice of Captain Jameson aboard the destroyer. “Admiral Smith? Enemy vessel approaching. Do we open fire? Perhaps a warning shot? Over.”
Smith lowered the binoculars slowly and said, “Something’s not right.”
The sub came to a sharp and sudden halt, as though it had struck an invisible wall.
The Russian crewman moved in a blind panic, leaping from the hatch and diving into the water. He was followed by another man scrambling out of the tower in a similarly frightened state, followed by another, and another. The sub’s secondary hatch opened, and more men poured from it. Terrified, they swam toward the American fleet.
Smith grabbed the radio, his mind finally made up. “Attention, all vessels! Attention all vessels! Hold fire! Do not engage! Ready life preservers and rescue rafts! Those men are in danger! Repeat: Those men are…”
His voice trailed off as he watched the water boil behind the Russian sub.
An enormous, sleek, oddly humanoid figure rose up from the sea. It was covered in smooth silver scales that shimmered with hints of a rainbow in the glare of the spotlights. Its head reminded Smith of a barracuda, but the muscular arms at its side betrayed the piscine image. With its mighty webbed hands, it gripped the fleeing submarine by the tail, and with surprising strength, lifted it from the water and tossed it away like a frustrated child chucking a baseball bat after losing a game.
Admiral Smith had no way of knowing it, but his fleet had come face-to-face with one of the Daikaiju who wished ill on the human race. Had a member of Operation Red Dragon been present at the time, they would have identified this leviathan as Barracudasaurus.
“My God in Heaven…” Smith whispered as he beheld the beast.
“Sir!” Hicks shouted. “Multiple contacts inbo-”
The sea erupted with a horde of monsters. The few Russians who had leapt into the sea were lost instantly in the churning chaos.
Admiral Smith remained transfixed in silent terror as he beheld the nightmarish spectacle. Though he was a military man, he had never encountered anything such as this before, and when confronted with the prehistoric vision before him, all of his years of training fled his mind, leaving him dumbstruck.
Refusing to wait for his orders, the other ships opened fire.
This only served to make the attacking creatures angry.
Smith was snapped from his stupor when the carrier rocked violently. His gaze drifted down to the deck, where an impossibly large alligator covered in spines and fins was hauling itself out of the water, a creature the Red Dragons identified as Wanirah.
Admiral William Smith did not see the end of the attack. He did not see the battleships as they were ripped apart by the jaws of ancient predators. He did not see the destroyer as it was crushed in the coils of a massive sea snake. He did not see the men under his command as they were devoured by prehistoric abominations.
All he saw was the inside of Wanirah’s horrible mouth as it snapped down with tremendous force on the bridge.
“You’re sure of that?” General Tsujimori asked as he stood on the Akira’s bridge, receiving the latest report.
The officer nodded. “We checked it twice, General,” he said. “The scans indicated two red signatures when the fleet went down. Satellite images confirmed their identities.”
X marched onto the bridge, Chakra trailing behind him, looking so incredibly happy that she practically floated to the radar station and settled in her chair like a feather. To the untrained observer, X would have still looked as stoic as ever, but those who knew him well would have noticed a subtle look of contentment in his eyes as well.
This expression vanished when he sensed the grave atmosphere surrounding Tsujimori and the young officer at his elbow. He approached the pair. “What’s happening?”
“You mean while you two were busy?” Tsujimori asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He resisted the urge to continue on that thread, given the urgency of the matter. “Quite a bit, actually, but the most recent development is extremely disturbing.” He dismissed the officer with a wave of his hand and turned to face X directly. “Barracudasaurus and Wanirah sank an American fleet just off the Ogasawara Islands, as well as at least one Russian sub.”
The officer returned. “CIGOR just docked and printed his report. The Kaiju on Rabu Nii have left, and apparently…” He paused, nerves almost stopping his voice. “Allorex is guiding them.”
With clear urgency and purpose, X and the General approached a wall on which was displayed a large map of the world. “Chakra,” X said, his flat tone of voice barely masking his dread. “Display all red signatures, last known whereabouts.”
Chakra, also concerned with what she had heard, typed a command into her keyboard, and the Pacific portion of the map lit up with seven red lights representing the Daikaiju.
X squinted as he thought. “Run a simulation: predicted destinations of all Daikaiju along the Pacific Rim based on current trajectories.”
As Chakra typed the command, General Tsujimori adjusted his collar in agitation. “Even after Fukuoka and Chile, I still didn’t expect it to all happen so quickly,” he said, nerves tinging his voice.
X nodded slightly, though his eyes remained affixed to the map. “The world’s in for a rude awakening, all right.”
“Got it!” Chakra piped up, a hint of nervousness in her voice as well.
Trails of orange trickled from each red dot on the map like lava from a volcano, trailing along until they finally converged on a single point.
Every projected path led to Tokyo, Japan.
Everyone aboard the bridge spared but a single moment to be chilled to the bone. All at once, the Daikaiju were going to fight for supremacy in one of the biggest cities on the planet.
Not a single mind present could fathom the destruction that would befall Tokyo.
“Helmsman,” X said. “Set a course for Tokyo. Take us right into the city.”
The helmsman hesitated, uncertain if he had heard the command correctly. “Did you say we’re going into the city, Sir?”
“My words exactly. Make it happen.”
Still, the helmsman hesitated in carrying out the command. “Sir, the Akira is under strict orders to never come within sight of-”
“We are facing an extinction-level event, soldier!” X roared. He turned sharply and marched to the helm, his tall frame looming over the poor helmsman. In that moment, X almost looked like a Kaiju himself. “I don’t care who sees us! I don’t care if live video of the ship is blasted all over the six o’clock news! I don’t care if Walter Cronkite wants to personally interview each and every one of us when it’s over! This ship needs to be where it can do the most good!” His voice became that of a lion. “Get us over Tokyo NOW!!!”
CHAPTER 16
As the capital of Japan, Tokyo was one of the most recognizable cities in the world. On the evening of April 29, it would be rendered unrecognizable by the horrors of a bygone age.
Kyouske Sagara was bringing his fishing boat to port. He and his crew had been out to sea when the Daikaiju started appearing, though they had heard the reports on the radio of what was now being called the Attack on Fukuoka. Most of the crew found the news about monsters hard to believe, figuring
instead that it was more likely some sort of attack by all-too-human perpetrators. Sagara remained wary. Not only was he a self-professed superstitious old sea dog, but he had seen a lot of unexplainable things in his time. Even on this latest excursion, he had seen large serpentine things in the distance heading in the general direction of the Japanese mainland. His men collectively agreed that the creatures were little more than whales and sharks. He let them continue to think that so they could keep working efficiently, but he silently knew that whatever they had seen, they were not mere run-of-the-mill fish.
According to the radio, which was playing as the ship headed for the shore, Tokyo was in the process of being evacuated under supervision of some international agency no one had ever heard of before called Operation Red Dragon. As a result, all vessels that normally docked in Tokyo Bay were being rerouted to different ports. Sagara was at the helm making the course corrections, but he was close enough to land to see the city.
Even from a distance, it was clear that something was wrong. There were explosions illuminating the evening sky, and the buildings were trembling like gelatin molds.
There was something else he saw, this time above the city. It was a floating object, which must have been huge to be visible from this distance. The shape reminded Sagara of a battleship, like the kind he had served on in the War so many years ago, and seeing such a vessel flying through the air was confusing to say the least.
What this floating ship was, Sagara had no idea, nor did he have much time to wonder.
A sudden jolt slammed Sagara’s chest hard against the ship’s wheel, knocking the air from his lungs and bruising his ribcage. He was dazed for a moment, vaguely aware of his men shouting outside the cabin, and the odd swaying of the ship which felt nothing like it should have on the water.
Had they hit something? Sagara had navigated these waters nearly his whole life, and knew of nothing in this patch of ocean which the ship could have possibly been caught on.
When his senses returned, he looked out at Tokyo once more, and was confused at how it seemed to have shrunk. From his perspective, it looked as though the buildings had somehow receded into the ground.
No, that wasn’t right.
The buildings had not sunk. The boat had risen.
Sagara was stunned to see four silvery pillars rise up and surround his humble ship, water cascading off them in wide streams. The pillars curled inward, crushing the hull, blocking his view of the world around him.
The next thing he knew, his ship was flying through the air towards the city, straight into the gaping jaws of a creature he had only ever seen illustrated in books. It looked like some sort of gigantic dinosaur, and it leaped up to catch the boat like a dog catching a tennis ball.
The beast bit down hard on the bow, splintering it like matchsticks, but the cabin detached from the ruined hull and continued flying over it.
The last thing Kyouske Sagara saw in this material world was the side of a skyscraper fast approaching.
According to Daisuke Armitage, the land upon which Tokyo had been built held a special significance to the Daikaiju. According to legend, Japan had always been Kozerah’s territory, and no matter where else on Earth he may have gone, he always returned to the island nation to rest and rejuvenate. Tokyo in particular had been one of the places where Kozerah had slumbered before rising to prevent the Huns from crossing the Sea of Japan. Challenging him to a fight there was a personal move on the part of his enemies.
Furthermore, Tokyo was densely populated by humans, whom Kozerah had always protected. Their deaths were sure to provoke him.
By the time the Akira had arrived, it was too late to avert disaster. The streets were already crawling with Kaiju. Massive lizards scaled up buildings, breaking into windows to claw at the terrified residents. Dinosaurs scoured the streets, eating or crushing every human they saw. The skies swarmed with insects shooting lasers from antennae and stingers, and the bay churned with sea monsters thrashing at every boat which drew near.
Even worse, the Daikaiju were with them. Allorex, Barracudasaurus, Exoskel, and Wanirah were all present. They commanded the chaos, pushing over towers in their paths, each roar the maniacal laugh of a dastardly villain.
*****
General Tsujimori stood at the threshold of the open shuttle bay, looking down at the hellish chaos raging below him. He had seen many battlefields of a similar nature, filled with opponents both human and inhuman, but the scale here was far more intense than anything he had encountered before. The Kaiju were attacking with the fury of Berserkers, not to mention that all four of their masters were present. There was nothing the General, or any human being, could do about the Daikaiju.
As much as he hated to admit it, Tokyo was lost. There was no point in trying to save the city anymore. The only thing left to do was make sure Tokyo was the only city these Kaiju ever got their claws on…assuming they could even make a difference in the fight at all.
At the very least, the evacuation order had been sent in time to clear the affected coastal part of the city. That was small but welcome consolation.
He glanced behind him, and saw X and Chakra standing by the Kuroga, sharing a deep embrace. Chakra was wearing a flight suit, which could only mean that she was finally getting her wish and officially joining them in battle. Either she and X had finally reached an understanding, or the situation was really that dire. Whichever it was, he welcomed her assistance.
Tsujimori closed his eyes and thought of his dear Saeko, trying to remember what her embrace felt like. He sighed as her vision wafted through his memory.
When he opened his eyes again, X was standing beside him. The sound of engines revving up echoed off the walls as the pilots prepared to launch into the fray.
There was no reason for Tsujimori to say anything, but he just could not resist the urge to take a jab at X, if only to alleviate the pre-battle tension. “So, did you kiss her, or are still you too shy to do that in public?”
X scowled at him. “Tell me, Ishiro, is your daughter still having identity issues?”
Tsujimori’s face turned bright red. X only brought up his estranged daughter’s unusual behavior if their verbal jousting struck a nerve with him. “Fine,” he said. “Forget I said anything.”
“Thank you.” The guns snapped from X’s sleeves into his hands. “Need a lift?”
“The last thing I want from you is a piggyback ride.”
“Your choice. Mind the gap.”
X leapt into the air and took flight.
General Tsujimori simply stepped over the ledge, an act accompanied by a burst of lightning from his entire body. The bolts arced and crisscrossed as they reached out for the metal in the surrounding buildings. Suspended in a net of lightning, he once again descended like an avenging angel.
The Kuroga and five shuttles retrofitted for combat followed close behind him.
Sumiko Tagaki clutched her infant son to her chest as she ran. She had been running since the attack began, not thinking of anything but protecting her child. How she had managed to avoid getting killed, she had no idea; all she knew was that she had to keep running until she could not run anymore…and she was approaching that threshold quickly. The muscles in her legs burned, and the infant grew heavier and heavier with each step.
Ahead of her was a section of the city which the monsters had not reached yet. She did not know if it was truly safer than what lay behind her, but she had to make it there.
She had to get to safety.
She could not.
Sumiko’s legs buckled, and she twisted about as she fell, landing on her back so as not to crush her child.
She could not move. She could hardly breathe. The infant, jarred by the fall, began to cry.
From the corner of her eye, Sumiko saw a monster charging down the street towards her. It was a rattlesnake, an enormous one, fangs dripping venom. It stopped a block away from her and coiled, ready to strike. The chattering of its rattle echoing off the b
uildings made her skin crawl.
Sumiko clutched her wailing child tightly, shielding his eyes, whispering that he would be all right, that everything would be over soon.
Another chattering filled the air.
No, not chattering. It sounded more like gunfire.
Bolts of molten lead from the sky drove into the rattlesnake’s body as it lunged, each rapid blow causing it to jerk about in midair unnaturally.
When the barrage was done, the serpent’s head landed short of mother and child, slamming into the ground and laying there, lifeless.
A large black object, like a moth made of metal, descended and hovered above the dead snake for a moment, then flew off into the city to where the other titans rampaged.
Sumiko was so shocked that she did not even realize that she was still alive at first, nor that her baby had stopped crying, equally stunned by what had happened. She lay on the street, still catching her breath, still unwilling to move lest the dead snake suddenly spring back to life.
Another black object fell from the sky, landing beside her dramatically, but this was neither a ship nor a monster. It was a man, an American, clad in old fashioned clothing, armed with a pair of large handguns.
The foreigner helped her to her feet, and though her legs still hurt, she was able to stand once more. His glowing eyes locked with hers. “Go,” he said in Japanese. “No monster will step beyond this point. I promise you and your child will live.”
Without taking his eyes off of her, the man in black aimed one of his guns over his shoulder and fired. The shot sunk deep into the head of a charging dinosaur, which fell instantly. Its momentum carried its limp body forward until it skidded to a halt mere feet behind Sumiko’s mysterious savior.
Sumiko felt every hair on her being stand on end as electricity filled the air. Bluish-white light drew her eyes towards the heavens, where she saw another man dressed as a soldier descending towards the streets. He was surrounded by arcing bolts of lightning which reached out to the buildings. He redirected a few bolts to incinerate a small cluster of grasshoppers which had leapt towards him.
Operation Red Dragon: The Daikaiju Wars: Part One Page 14
