Kaiju Apocalypse (11 page)

“Time?!” Kirby snapped. “Time for what? All we'll be doing is waiting to die!”

“That's enough, Kirby,” McCoy warned.

“I guess the LT means we'll be planet-hunting, Kirby. Right, sir?” Grimes turned to McCoy with a questioning expression.

“That's as good a guess as any,” McCoy admitted after a moment. “To be honest, it may be the only thing we can do.”

“The
Argo's
got the firepower to do some
serious
damage,” Kirby's voice was calmer now, but still tinged with hurt and anger.

“So what?” McCoy asked. “We can't take on an entire planet of Kaiju, Kirby. It's the same forsaken mess as Alpha Centauri was. Even if we somehow, by the grace of God and the
Argo's
weapons, pushed the blasted Kaiju back at one of the city-states, we couldn't hold it. Not for long, and not without constant resupply, which the
Argo
, I’m sad to say, cannot sustain.”

“Four months,” a deep, gravely voice sounded from behind them. Kirby and Grimes jumped slightly at the arrival of Gunnery Sergeant Jonny Iffland. “If you managed to take a city-state and found yourselves under constant siege, you may have four months before supplies run out. And that, ladies, is simple arithmetic. Ammunition kills Kaiju; food feeds Marines so that they have the strength to keep killing Kaiju. Take one away and you lose. Instead of whining and bitching about things, why don’t you finish kitting yourselves out and get your asses down to the armory before I find something creative that needs to be cleaned. Understood?”

“Yes, Gunny!” Kirby and Grimes barked in unison and hurried out of the locker room.

“Thanks for the assistance, Gunny,” McCoy told his senior non-commissioned officer.

“You had things well in order, sir,” Iffland said in a respectful tone. “However, part of my job as your gunny is to make sure that the Marines are motivated and eager to do battle. I failed in my job, and for that I apologize, sir.”

“Gunny, if anyone was excited about going on a suicide run to a dead world, I’d seriously question their sanity,” McCoy announced.

“I’m excited as all get-out, sir,” Iffland stated in a flat, bored tone. “I’m going to be the first Marine to combat-drop onto Earth from space, specifically into a potential warzone. Granted, I never thought that this would be after a failed colonization of a world inhabited by sasquatch-yeti things...”

“I’ll meet you down in the armory.” McCoy grinned and finished zipping up his coveralls. He walked out of the locker room and followed the Marines towards the armory.

Though the
Argo's
complement of troops numbered five hundred, the ship carried only a hundred and fifty suits of combat armor. The Dogkiller’s battle armor was bulky things, and McCoy didn't really care for them. For all the sheer firepower they brought to the table, to him they felt like death traps. Every time he suited up, it felt more like getting into a coffin than a bipedal tank.

McCoy had spent a good portion of his life within the giant walls of Pacifica. He'd been born there to parents who were the average run-of-the-mill folks trying to make ends meet and get by in a world gone insane. When he came of age, he joined the Marines as fast as he could. The military offered a level of advancement and lifestyle he knew he never would have had a chance at. His unit was immediately shipped off to Atlantica, and he never saw his family again. Sometimes, he regretted that, others not so much.  He had a new family now, the one he had chosen. When word of the
Argo's
construction got out to the public, McCoy had done everything he could to make sure he would be on it when it left Earth. That, he didn't regret at all. 

*****

Captain Whitmire laid the data pad on his desk, looking up as Kitty and Tiffanie entered his briefing room. They were both extremely nervous and apprehensive; it was easy to see.

“Take a seat,” he gestured at the chairs in front of his desk. The two women did as he instructed. Once they were settled in, he continued. “I'm sorry to have called you away from your duties. I realize there is a lot going on right now, but I have need of your particular set of skills. Kitty, you're the best civilian sensor tech onboard the
Argo
. Your aptitude skills are off the charts, and you far exceed the physical standards set forth by the security forces. And Diana, you're the ranking communications officer. As I am sure you both already know, the orbital stations around Earth were abandoned once we left the system, just as we feared they would be. They've either been abandoned and scavenged, or their orbits became unstable and they eventually fell from the sky.”

“That's correct, sir,” Kitty ventured. “Scans of those on this side of the planet with us show no life-forms aboard any of the ones still in the air.”

“And I still can't raise any of the others on any frequency,” Tiffanie added.

“One of the stations still seems to have power,” Whitmire said with a glance at Kitty, who nodded. “Tango Zeta 3, actually. It is rather close to our current position, which is extremely fortuitous. I am sending over a small detachment of engineers, along with a platoon of security personnel to salvage what they can from it. But what I really want is that station's logs. I, for one, want a clearer picture of what happened while we were gone. Those logs could tell us a lot about the fate of those we left behind on Earth, as well as help us to decide the course of action we need to take next.”

“But I thought you had decided that already, sir,” Tiffanie shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

“To a degree, the governor and I already have,” Whitmire admitted, “but in our current situation, a lot could change on extremely short notice. If the logs are encrypted with newer codes than those we are currently using and others escaped Earth besides us, or the station's systems have suffered damage and any messages left for us are recoverable, you two are the best chance I have at getting my hands on that data. However, neither of you have any field experience, and I know that this is far outside your normal job. It’s why I’m asking for a volunteer.”

“I'll go,” Kitty said after a moment. Tiffanie looked relieved as Whitmire nodded. 

“Good,” he said. “I was hoping it would be you, no offense to the commander. This was not a choice I wanted to make for either of you. Get your gear together. The three shuttles leaving for Tango Zeta 3 will be heading out in less than hour.”

“Yes sir!” Kitty replied. “I'll be ready.”

*****

Grimes vomited onto the floor of the transport, the foul-smelling remnants of his breakfast splashing against the metal floor. None of it landed on the young soldier, which McCoy found surprising. Not an easy task with the safety harnesses that he and the other members of First and Second squads wore. The five-point metal harness was designed to prohibit movement and prevent injury, and turning one’s head to vomit was supposed to be impossible.

Entry into the Earth's atmosphere was a bumpy ride. The entire shuttle shook and vibrated as it descended towards the planet's surface. It came as no surprise to McCoy that the younger soldiers, who had never been forced to be airborne qualified, found the violent movements of the shuttle to be nauseating. He glanced over at Grimes and saw the poor kid had begun to dry heave, his stomach now empty. He’d considered ordering everyone to not eat before dropping, but considering that it had been well over a year since anyone had eaten a thing, he decided against it.

McCoy still felt bad for the younger soldier, though. His own stomach churned and gurgled nervously, but he had been airborne qualified back when it had meant something. He also had been part of the initial drop onto Alpha Centauri Prime, and felt that he was ready for the new hell they were about the enter. He looked around the bay at the rest of the men. He knew precisely how many of them had made a combat drop before, which was not many. Still, he had confidence in his men.

The wild bucking of the shuttle eased as they passed through the turbulence at long last. The shuttle pilot’s voice came over the shared comm link of both squad’s combat helmets. “ETA in five.”

“You heard the man, ladies,” the Gunny barked. “This is gonna be the best day of your young, pathetic lives. Tell me how good it’s gonna be!”

“Damn good!” the two squads chorused loudly.

“How good?” the Gunny asked.

“So good it hurts!” the squads finished. More than a few of them were grinning now. McCoy hid a small smile of his own. While he was in overall command of the drop, he had worked with the Gunny for a long time and trusted his senior NCO explicitly. The Gunny, he knew from experience, knew the men better than anyone.

As soon as the shuttle touched down, its rear door sprang open and the safety harnesses snapped open. The Gunny led the squads out onto the beach just outside the main entrance to the city of Lemura.  McCoy followed on his heels, but froze in his tracks only feet outside of the shuttle.  The walls of the great city were scarred, with entire sections of them collapsed. The beach around the shuttle was covered in the skeletons of lesser Dog Kaiju and rusting, damaged suits of combat armor. McCoy didn't recognize the design of the suits, but could easily see the lethality in their design lines. They were like sleeker versions of the Dogkillers, the two armored squads they would be linking up with would be wearing, but better armed and technologically advanced. He wished for a moment that he had these suits at his disposal instead of his standard armor.

McCoy’s own two squads were pure infantry. No Dogkiller armor for them. Captain Whitmire had deemed it would be best to have some troops on the ground that could go places which the bulky Dogkiller suits might not be able. McCoy often suspected that Whitmire was a traditionalist like himself when it came to all the high tech toys the army and navy had at their disposal these days.

“Now this,” the Gunny whistled softly, “this was a
battle
, boys.”

McCoy spotted the two squads of eight Dogkiller-clad troopers clamoring towards their position. “I want Dogkillers on point and bringing up the rear of the column as we advance into the city. Gunny, form us up.”

“Let’s move, boys! Hup-hup-hup!”

The strange power readings that they had been sent to investigate were deep inside the city. Captain Whitmire had theorized that they might be coming from some sort of last resort, a safe and hidden bunker. If that was the case, getting into it might be an issue, but that was one McCoy could deal with if they found it.

The problem at hand was making it through the city itself. There was no doubt it would be teeming with Dog Kaiju, and the scans taken by the shuttle crew on the way down suggested that, while there were clear paths to avoid them, these changed, and the soldiers would have little warning should that happen.

However, aside from the legions of corpses covering the beach, not even one had been spotted thus far. McCoy knew that the monsters could be crafty when they had to be, but this? This bordered on the ridiculous. Usually, if a Dog Kaiju caught wind of humans, they came running. The noisy, heavy, lumbering Dogkillers should have been a dinner bell for the beasts. Yet none came as the Dogkillers led the way. Their internal motors whined as they clanked about, guns ready, moving towards the city.

The sun was setting on the horizon, its dying rays gleaming on the splashing waves of the water. The stench of
so
many bodies decaying in the heat of the waning day was simply too much. He saw one of the regular infantry under his command stop and throw up next to a ruined wall. McCoy felt the gorge rising in his belly as well, but swallowed it down. He wondered if the men and women inside the Dogkillers could smell it as well.

The column marched into the city proper and began to move along its streets. McCoy directed its movement from the column's center using a high-powered, handheld sensor unit. According to its readings, the power signatures they were seeking lay around three miles to the north. He checked their surroundings, but the deep shadow cast by the setting sun created a lot of false pits and hid obstacles from them. The column slowed as the infantry began to pick its way through the rubble more slowly.

“Kaiju!” McCoy heard someone scream over the comm link. The world around him exploded into chaos as Dog Kaiju came pouring out of the alleyways, side streets, and the ruins of Lemura all around the four squads. The heavy weapons of the Dogkiller troopers rang out like the thunder of a summer storm, scything the Dogs down as the armored soldiers clustered together to protect their flanks. The chattering of automatic small arms fire was quickly added to the noise as the two infantry squads joined in.