Kaiju Apocalypse (9 page)

The Mother Kaiju roared painfully somewhere nearby as more fire poured into her exposed flank. The turtle shell, which offered near-invulnerability in the front of the beast, did not cover her back as well. The thick scales of the Mother were all that stood between life and death for the beast. He checked his belt for grenades and saw that he had ten left. Others in his growing group had more, and he saw that one civilian who had joined them was carrying a large bundle of claymore explosives. He blinked at that, but refrained from commenting. Survival was important, and how they did it, was not.

“She’s hobbled at the corner of Main and Prosperous Street,” Yeltsin said over the comm. “Let’s bring that big bitch down!”

“Long live Lemura!” came the cry over the comm as thousands of voices responded as one.

The ground around Yeltsin shook. He glanced up and saw that the Mother was still down on one knee, but was struggling slowly back to her feet. He broke into a trot, then a run. They had to keep the Mother from rising, and he wasn’t sure he had the firepower to do so. He risked a quick look at his oversized platoon, which was now numbering a few hundred men and women, some in uniform, most not. The frightened woman he had spotted earlier was now carrying the explosive claymores.

He rounded the corner of Main and skidded to a stop. He had managed to make his way to the rear of the Mother Kaiju, where a small group of uniformed soldiers was trying the shoot the Mother in a most indelicate spot. Judging by the way the Kaiju was thrashing about, Yeltsin was sure that the determined solders were starting to make progress.

“Attack!” Yeltsin cried and the men and women around him surged forward. “Do not let what is written on your headstone state that you simply died here! Fight for humanity! Long live Lemura!”

“Long live Lemura!”

A small form, a young girl no more than ten, clutched a small satchel in her arms. She ran forward, darting around the adults as they fought the Mother Kaiju, her bright brown eyes never wavering as she drew closer to the Mother. Her pigtails bobbed as an adult bumped her unknowingly, but her path did not stray. She drew very close to the exposed underside of the massive beast and stopped. She looked up at the Kaiju, and in a voice that belonged to someone ten times her size, made a declaration in a ringing tone:

“Long live Lemura!”

The explosive in the satchel pack detonated, killing the large cluster of humans gathered close to her position. The ball bearings, which had been packed tightly around the explosive material, shot upwards at over fifteen hundred meters per second, the steel penetrating deep into the Mother’s stomach. The little girl vanished in the blast, but in the process of dying, managed to wound the Mother grievously.

Men, women, and Dog Kaiju were all turned to mist as the ball bearings made short work of the unarmored humans around them. One bearing blew straight through Minister Yeltsin’s pants leg, narrowly missing his thigh. Red blood mixed with orange on the street, and the horrid stink of death and carnage filled the air.

The damage was done, however. The Mother Kaiju bellowed one final time, a cry born of pain and defeat. Her good leg gave out, and the top-heavy beast tottered as her guts began to spill out onto the street. The massive shelled creature began to fall to its side, the heavy creature flattening buildings and killing thousands of people and tens of thousands of Dog Kaiju as she went.

The battlefield became deathly still. Yeltsin stared at the mass in awe at the Kaiju gave one final shuddering gasp before expiring. He felt it in his bones. The blood-chilling roar which had begun from blocks away, one that told him that he had won, that Lemura had won.

The victory cry of humanity was powerful enough to shake the very foundations on which Lemura was built.

Two days later...

Governor Pietro Lanstum was dead, his body somewhere in the rubble of the formerly grand walls of Lemura.  Like so many others, the Governor died when the Mother Kaiju had breached Lemura's walls and let the smaller monsters inside.  According to the report, Yeltsin had read over, the Governor's personal guard had died to the last man to keep him alive. It simply hadn't been enough, and the Governor had fallen amidst the seething hordes of Dog Kaiju.  The whole mess left Minster Yeltsin dealing with more than most men could stand to bear.

He had started smoking again from the stress, luxuriating in the cigarettes he had found hidden deep in the supply stocks of an old storage warehouse.  There was vacancy of power in the civil government with Lanstum's death, and no time to fill it properly.  The Lieutenant Governor hung herself upon the breach in the walls, though her part of the city had not even been touched, being safely protected by the east wall. After that, Yeltsin had no idea who was still alive.

Over thirty-five percent of Lemura's population had been lost to the attack, and most of its armed forces were dead as well.   Entire sections of the city were in utter chaos, ruined beyond repair.  In those places, looting, rape, and the law of the gun reigned while Yeltsin struggled to assemble the manpower to restore order.  With the high casualty count amongst the military, he was forced to rely on a less-than-adequate police force.

Worst of all, Lemura's primary power grid was completely offline.  Teams had worked around the clock to repair it, but the best estimates told him it would be at least a matter of days until any real progress could be seen.  In the meantime, the citizens of the city were forced to use oil heat, if one could find it, or risk starting a fire in their homes to keep the survivors fed and warmed. It was not a comforting thought, one Yeltsin knew was at the top of his list of things to accomplish before they could truly say that Lemura still stood, and would remain the bedrock of humanity.

Yeltsin found himself not only Lemura's Minister of War, but acting Governor as well.  The collapse of the civil government left him no other choice, and this was one position he did not want to have. He would establish elections as soon as he was able, but since restoring the safety and security of the citizens of Lemura took precedence, he figured elections would occur in three months, at the soonest.

He rubbed his aching eyes. He vaguely remembered what sleep was like as he popped his second stimulant of the day and set aside the report of Lanstum's death.  Lanstum’s death was unfortunate, for the man was, if anything, an effective administrator. The loss of his lieutenant was a lesser hit, but still one that he could have done without. There were so many tasks to be completed and no guarantee that the Kaiju wouldn't be returning to finish what they had started.  The singular piece of good news amongst the darkness was that Dr. Bach had survived.  The Trident that had carried the Doctor and the troops to the island returned to Lemura several hours after the Mother Kaiju had fallen, emerging from the waves and scaring the few soldiers guarding the beachhead against any surviving Kaiju.  The Trident had lost its wingman in exchange for the cowardly pilot Knight, and none of the Dogkillers who went to the island returned alive. Conflicting news, to be sure, but Yeltsin was pleased that at least one Trident had survived. A tentative plan had been formed to go see if there were any survivors, but deep down, he was almost certain that there weren’t any. In addition, he was reluctant to send the only surviving Trident and its pilots out into the unknown. Not until he had secured the walls of Lemura.

Yeltsin hadn't gotten the chance to see Dr. Bach yet, but doing so was near the top of his list of priorities.  Dr. Bach had proven himself an invaluable asset to not only Lemura, but also the continued survival of the human race.  His spontaneous creation of a Kaiju “muting” device was being looked at as a defense to be placed in Lemura, amplified by the massive power grid – assuming, he mentally corrected as he slid the report across his desk, the power grid was ever restored.

The light of the rising sun outside his office caught Yeltsin's eye.  He shoved aside the piles of work on his desk and moved to the window.  Despite the state of the city, for the first time in a long, long while, he realized that he believed mankind stood a decent chance against the monsters from which the oceans had given birth. It was a terrifying feeling, elation.

He smiled. It was not born of fear, or tinged with grimness. It was something he had forgotten, thought lost in the realization of war and extermination. It was a happy smile.

“Long live Lemura.”

*****

Deep in the bowels of Marianas Trench, a singular shudder shook the ocean bed around the slumbering beast. Wings, pressed flat against the massive back, twitched ever so slightly. Creatures unseen by humanity’s naked eye began to stir amongst the depths. Something caused a far-off underwater volcano to begin erupting, spewing lava and ash into the dark waters. In days, it would begin to form a new island, a new home for a new breed of the dark.

Nothing natural lived at these crushing depths. If Yeltsin had known was lay here, resting, undisturbed for millennia, he may have joined Lemura’s Governor in death. Nothing could have prepared him for a creature of such magnitude. It was too large to comprehend, too strange for the mind to accept it. Fortunately, for him, and for all mankind, it remained still as the island formed. Nothing could disturb the creature’s sleep yet. Time was not right, reality not quite bent enough for it to arise.

A single eyelid twitched as the beast lay dreaming. Its children began to spawn forth once more, to devour, kill, and to conquer. Slowly from the depths they came to the island of ash and rock to begin anew. It would take a while, but they had time. They settled in beneath the island, these Kaiju.

...and they began to adapt.

Part II

Around him, the world crumbled and burn
ed, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Captain Nathan Whitmire gasped as the last bit of cryo-sleep began to wear off, his higher brain functions pushing the subconscious reactions to the back as he became aware of his surroundings and his location. His lungs burned as they took their first breath of true oxygen. His throat felt raw and abused. Strength slowly returned to his body as his nervous system came fully online. With that strength, though, came the realization that he was still alive.

Instead of opening his eyes, however, he reached for the dream that had been tormenting him. He knew that scientists believed that when the subconscious mind dominated during a long cryo-sleep, a sort of “precognitive” experience could occur when the changeover began. It was a very rare experience, but Nathan knew that it was always accurate – if the memory could be retained. Science could not explain it, and it was the rare individual who could remember the dream. Unfortunately, the last vestiges of this particular dream slipped from his mental fingers, gone forever.

“Good morning, Captain Whitmire,” a hollow, yet cheerful sounding voice greeted him as he woke up.  It belonged to the
Argo's
artificial intelligence system, Medea.

His mind drifted back to the faded memory. Something bad was about to happen, he recalled. However, the rest of the dream eluded him. That memory washed out as well as his mind came fully aware of his surroundings.

Nathan stretched out his arms and struggled to wiggle his toes as the cryo-juice was flushed from his system. His stomach gurgled noisily, reminding him that, if all had gone well, it had been over seventeen months since he had last eaten. An intense pressure was suddenly applied to his bladder and a soft moan passed unbidden through his lips.

There was no way around it. The human body was not designed for cryo-sleep, and coming out of it was one of the most painful experiences outside of childbirth. His skin felt like it was on fire as every single nerve in his extremities came alive. If he could have screamed, he would have. Fortunately for his dignity, his vocal cords were not yet up to snuff for any sort of screaming. The pain slowly became manageable as the moments passed, and finally went away fully. He cracked open his eyes and slowly went through his mental checklist.

“Relax, Captain,” Medea tried to soothe him as his fingers began to twitch and respond to his commands. “The cryo-juice is almost completely out of your system. In eight seconds, you should have full control over your motor skills once more. How are you feeling?”

Nathan didn’t answer, focusing instead on his left big toe. It was a trick he had learned when he had come out of cryo for the very first time during the trial runs. If he could focus on something small and typically ignored, the rest of the pain would drift away.

“How long has it been, Medea?” Nathan asked as the last wave of pain went away. His tongue felt thick and his jaw was sore, but that was to be expected. He had not used it in a very long time.

“You have been in cryo-sleep for one year, five months, two days–”

“Thanks,” Nathan said, cutting the AI off. “That’s good enough. Give me a SITREP, starting with structural integrity of the
Argo
.”

“Structural integrity of the hull is at satisfactory levels,” Medea began, her voice still cheerful as Nathan swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up. The room spun slightly as blood rushed to his head. He grabbed one of the overhead handles and waited for the sudden bout of dizziness to pass. Meanwhile, Medea continued to drone on. “Environmental levels in occupied sections are nominal. Oxygen levels are coming up to hospitable levels at primary duty stations throughout the
Argo
. Engineering is showing green on all four engines, and both the primary and secondary bridges are fully powered. All stations, save one, report green beds. There was one catastrophic failure of a cryo-sleep bed, Portside Section, Subsection D, resulting in a singular fatality due to irreparable damage to the vagus nerve, and thus causing a complete nervous system failure. Resuscitation was not possible. Notification of the death has been passed on to the Medical Board.”

“Damn,” Nathan grunted as he grabbed his uniform from the storage closet. He quickly pulled on his trousers and buttoned up his blouse. “Medea, who was the individual that died?”

“Engineering Apprentice Bahwoh Buhtan Woods, Captain.”

Nathan shook his head. “Never heard of her.”

“Him, actually, Captain,” Medea corrected in a gentle tone. “Single, nineteen years of age. Family origins were from Liberia, a member of the ruling National Humanist Movement before he emigrated to Lemura Base after the fall of Abidjan. Completed his first apprenticeship just before the
Argo
left Earth, though he was not one of the engineers who were wakened upon our arrival at Alpha Centauri. He left no dependents.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Nathan muttered as he rubbed his scalp. “All right, let’s get up to speed.”

“We are currently in a heliosynchronous orbit of Earth,” Medea began. “The
Argo
is currently stationed at four hundred kilometers above the Earth’s surface and is maintaining a constant speed of 11,973 kilometers per hour. The
Argo
is currently above Pacifica Base, and soon shall be moving into position above Lemura Base, then crossing paths with Atlantica Base. I am currently running diagnostics on our communications system due to unknown anomalies, which are interfering with connectivity of any relay on Earth, or to any of the satellites which are still in orbit.”

“Wait,” Nathan paused while lacing up his boots. “Is it an issue on our end or Earth’s?”

“Unknown at this time,” Medea replied.

“Well, that’s great,” Nathan grunted and finished putting his boots on. He bloused his trousers and stood up. “Okay, run an internal diagnostics and wake up a sensor team to run a diagnostics on our own relay in case this is a hardware issue. Also, continue waking vital crew of the ship as per standard operating procedures. How long will your internal diagnostics take?”

“Five minutes, eleven seconds,” Medea responded.

“Okay,” Nathan nodded. “Do it. How long until the sensor team is up and about?”

“I took the liberty of waking them already, sir,” Medea stated. “I was unable to initially identify any type of radio transmissions upon clearing the asteroid belt. Even accounting for the fourteen minute delay when we passed Ceres, there has been no radio waves detected in the time since.”

“You’re not picking up
any
radio signals or laser transmissions?” Nathan asked, surprised.

“Correct.”

“Do we have any visuals of Pacifica, Atlantica or Lemura yet? Or any of the bases?”

“I have visuals of Pacifica Base stored in my memory banks, Captain,” Medea answered. “Bringing them online now.”

Nathan walked over to his console and watched as the image of the base appeared on screen. He frowned and zoomed in on the image. His frown deepened as he stared at the screen, his mind not comprehending what he was seeing. Pacifica was there, yet the walls appeared to be ruined. There were life forms in the streets, but they were shorter than he expected to see, bulkier somehow.

Pacifica had fallen, it appeared. Nathan’s heart grew cold in his chest. If Pacifica had fallen, then the smaller bases did not stand a chance.

“How long until we pass over Lemura?” Nathan asked, his voice suddenly hoarse.

“Fourteen minutes,” Medea answered. Nathan swore softly.

“Okay, let’s start waking up vital personnel only,” Nathan ordered. “Keep the colonists and non-essential crew in cryo for the time being. Also, wake up Governor Trion. Begin operating under Gamma Protocols until we have more information. Everything we have in the visual banks are now classified Top Secret and above.”

“Yes, Captain,” Medea said. “Might I remind you that the Gamma Protocols require some sort of civilian oversight of all military personnel?”

“I know that, Medea,” Nathan replied. “That’s why I had you wake up Governor Trion and only the governor. She’ll function as my oversight, and I can control one civilian much easier than I can a dozen.”

“I am not entirely certain that is why this protocol was written this way...” the AI’s voice tapered off. Nathan smiled grimly.

“I’m violating the spirit of the law,” Nathan told the machine, “not the letter. It’s a human thing.”

“Indeed.” If AI’s could sigh, Medea would have. “Very well then, Captain, Gamma Protocol initiated.”

Nathan collapsed into the chair next to the console. “Continue trying to raise someone – anyone – on the planet. I need to know what’s going on down there and what sort of assistance they can provide, or God forbid, we can provide them.”

Something was wrong, terribly wrong. There was no way a ship as large as the
Argo
could enter orbit and someone from the surface not spot it. The
Argo
contained over twelve thousand men, women, and children within her stout hull. This also accounted for its crew, and the detachment of five hundred defense force soldiers assigned to provide internal security as well as serve as a protective force. She was the United World’s first colony ship and was to have been mankind's greatest hope for continuation of the species. When the great disaster occurred and the oceans of Earth rose to claim most of its landmasses, the need to expand to the stars in order to survive had changed from an afterthought to a desperate gamble. Earth, it had been decided by the powers that be, could no longer support the human race as it once had. The rich and powerful, the military, and those with much needed talents and skills found shelter in the great island cities like Alantica, Pacifica and Lemura. Those less fortunate, who had survived the floods, were left to fend for themselves outside the massive protective walls as the Kaiju began to encroach further into human territory than ever before. Small enclaves fell before the might of the Mother Kaiju – towering, massive creatures who attacked any and all humans with single-minded drive.

The island city-states were, for all intents and purposes, military bases before the invasions began in earnest, or humanity wouldn't have stood a chance in those early days at all. Alantica and Pacifica were the two largest and best funded, with a work force that dwarfed the remaining bases, and through their combined efforts, the
Argo
was constructed in the safety of space next to the International Space Station. Even with humanity's continued existence on the line and a dedicated work force devoting all of its time and energy into construction, she took over a year to complete. Nathan knew that her being finished so fast was nothing short of a miracle, but those months had passed like years as he readied her crew and oversaw the work being done on her.

During the first stages of construction, the Kaiju attacks had been limited. One or two of the giant “Mother” Kaiju attacked a given city roughly every month, but as the Argo neared completion, the attacks began to increase. Mere weeks before he left the Earth's surface for the final time, a new breed of Kaiju had shown themselves. They weren't like the Mothers but were much smaller and faster. Their numbers seemed endless and they attacked with a frenzy mankind had not seen since the last world war. The “Dog” Kaiju, as the unfortunate infantry, which was tasked to fight them dubbed them, attacked the city-states en mass, armies of them swarming onto the beaches and overrunning any given base defenses. Many of the smaller city-states had been feeling the strain of defending against their relentless attacks, even as the
Argo's
main engines came fully online. The bloodbath at Nor-wic, Nathan recalled, had been especially horrific.

The slaughter of every man, woman and child at Nor-wic pushed the United World Council members into action. The new plan was simple. The
Argo
was to leave Earth’s orbit and make her way to the Alpha Centauri system. It was a gamble, but a well-calculated one, and offered the best chance of finding a planet Earth-like enough to start over and rebuild. With her cargo loaded and the soon-to-be colonists safely aboard and in cryo-sleep, Nathan had stood on her bridge as space bent around her and she left the Sol System behind.