Godzilla At World's End Part 13

Thursday, December 7, 2000, 0900 hours.

NORAD s.p.a.ce Command Center.

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado.

"We have a launch alert!" Airman Sandy Stilson cried, her bright blue eyes wide with shock and surprise as she stared at her "bandit board." Airman Stilson barely got the words out before the Air Force Intelligence officer on night watch, a twenty-year veteran named Colonel Roger Wistendahl, was at the young woman's shoulder.

"Are you certain, Stilson?" the colonel demanded, staring over her blond head at the monitor. The question was moot. Wistendahl could see the pip flashing on her screen.

"It launched thirty-six seconds ago," Airman Stilson insisted, noting the readout on the digital clock and tapping the keys on her board in an effort to trace the object's point of origin. Already its course and speed and att.i.tude and apogee were being displayed on her monitor.

The object was climbing steadily into orbit from somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere.

"We've got a definite confirmation from Teal Sapphire," Airman Ted Rodofsky announced from his command station opposite the young woman's. It was Rodofsky's job to monitor the data coming from Teal Sapphire. The sophisticated satellite was designed to alert NORAD's s.p.a.ce Command Center of the launch of a ballistic missile or rocket anywhere in the world within seconds.

The three U.S. Air Force personnel exchanged uneasy glances. This wasn't supposed to be happening.

It was the end of the graveyard shift at the joint United States and Canadian North American Aeros.p.a.ce Defense Command - NORAD for short. The Cold War was over, no monsters were roaming the fruited plains, and very few hostile powers were aiming nuclear weapons at the U.S. of A.

In fact, to Colonel Wistendahl, NORAD itself sometimes seemed obsolete.

The huge technological facility was cut into the very heart of the Cheyenne Mountain range. The base was built on gigantic coil springs designed to absorb the impact of a hydrogen bomb - not that anybody was aiming those things at NORAD anymore. For decades, NORAD had monitored North American airs.p.a.ce from hundreds of radar sites all over the world.

The entire facility and the philosophy behind it was a holdover from the Cold War of the previous century. Built to survive a Russian nuclear attack, the Cheyenne Mountain radar center was the backbone of air defense for the American continent. Twenty-four hours a day, each and every aircraft flying in or near American airs.p.a.ce was constantly monitored.

But NORAD monitored activity not only over the United States and Canada. The entire Northern Hemisphere - including the north polar region and Russian Republic airs.p.a.ce - was covered by the Ballistic Missile Early Warning System, made up of radar stations scattered across the tundra of Alaska.

Missile launches in the Southern Hemisphere were covered by Pave Paws, a pyramid-shaped radar station operating in West Texas. All the information from these various sources was relayed to Cheyenne Mountain.

It was the Pave Paws radar system, built in the desert of Texas, that was the source of this particular launch alert.

Until a point of origin could be established, NORAD would remain on alert as a precaution. By international law, countries launching rockets or missiles into s.p.a.ce had to notify all other s.p.a.ce-faring nations through normal diplomatic channels.

It was a prudent safeguard against starting an accidental nuclear war.

Only this time somebody forgot to tell us, Wistendahl thought angrily.

According to the s.p.a.ce Command Center day-timer, no launch was scheduled for this date or time. As Airman Stilson tried to determine the launch point and Airman Rodofsky continued to monitor the object's course and trajectory, Colonel Wistendahl ran a check on the launches scheduled for the next three weeks, which had been previously logged in their computer calendar - just in case he'd missed any new information.

But, as Wistendahl suspected, there were no rocket tests or launches scheduled for tonight, anywhere in the world. The liftoff of the first Russian s.p.a.ce shuttle from Baikonur Cosmodrome was not going to happen until next week, and the Europeans had no launches scheduled from the European Rocket Testing Range in Australia until January.

There was a launch of a French Ariane rocket scheduled for Sat.u.r.day. That rocket was carrying a U.S. communications satellite built for the Independent News Network. If everything went according to plan, the Ariane would blast off from Khorou, French Guiana - but not for thirty-five more hours.

Colonel Wistendahl knew from experience that rockets were often launched late, but never early.

"Come on, Stilson," Wistendahl said, irritation in his voice. "Let's have that point of origin. ASAP, please ..."

Airman Stilson, at her command console, had already calculated a launch-origin solution. But the answer was so ridiculously impossible that she ran the mathematical model through the computer one more time, sure that some data had been flawed.

NORAD's s.p.a.ce Command Center was home to some of the most sophisticated equipment in the world. SCC not only monitored launches but also maintained watch on the 8,000 or so pieces of s.p.a.ce junk - including active and nonfunctioning satellites, spent boosters, debris from the Atlantis and Mir, and other debris that floated in Earth's...o...b..t.

When the computer finished its second tabulation, Stilson's speaker beeped. For the second time, her computer had come up with a point of origin based on the object's current trajectory.

The answer this time was the same as the first.

"Sir," she said, bewildered, "I think you should see this."

Colonel Wistendahl crossed the command center and stood at the airman's shoulder. He peered at the monitor for a moment. Then Colonel Wistendahl whistled.

"This can't be right," he stated.

"I think it is correct, sir," Stilson replied. "I ran it through the computer twice."

Wistendahl turned to Rodofsky, who was watching the action from his station.

"Get me the commander in chief of NORAD," Wistendahl said. "We have a probable launch. Point of origin, the Antarctic ..."

Friday, December 8, 2000, 3:00 A.M.

International Seismographic Agency.

Sydney, Australia.

On the other side of the International Date Line, Dr. Ryan Whittle, the chairman of the United Nations newest scientific research inst.i.tution, the International Seismographic Agency, was puzzled.

Since taking the job as the agency's first chairman six months before, Dr. Whittle - a native of the Bahamas - had seen his share of confusing and contradictory data.

But he had never seen anything like this.

What he was seeing now defied common sense and all previous geologic theories. But the facts, as presented to him in the past few hours, had been checked and double-checked by a number of reliable and respected sources.

According to the report faxed to him from ANARE 2000 - the Australian National Antarctic Research Expedition for the current calendar year - a large object had tunneled deep under the Earth's crust from a point in the middle of Wilkes Land, East Antarctica. The object bored under the South Pole and out under the bottom of the Bellingshausen Sea. The object had subsequently been tracked as it moved beneath the South American continent.

If that wasn't puzzling enough, a second report filed by seismologists at the Australian Antarctic base in Mawson suggested that a second large object had moved underground from that same position in Wilkes Land at about the same time.

But this second mysterious object moved toward the coast of Kemp Land - in the opposite direction from the first object. According to the scientists on-station in Mawson, this second object actually moved under the base, many kilometers beneath the crust of the Antarctic continent.

Eventually, the thing broke through the Earth's crust deep under the Pacific Ocean, about 150 kilometers from the Antarctic coast. Its last course had the object heading up the coast of East Africa, around Madagascar, then east again - to the Indian Ocean.

Moving ... or swimming? Dr. Whittle puzzled.

He wondered if he should alert the United Nations Security Council, or perhaps G-Force, or G-Force USA. But he wasn't sure that the objects posed any immediate danger - he wasn't even sure if they were living things, or some sort of previously undiscovered tectonic activity.

And not one object, Dr. Whittle thought, but two - and both originating in Wilkes Land.

The scientist had little doubt that something was happening under the crust of the East Antarctic. Only one question remained.

What?

Thursday, December 7, 2000, 0919 hours.

NORAD s.p.a.ce Command Center.

Colonel Wistendahl and his technicians continued to monitor the object as it rose from the south polar region into Earth's...o...b..t. NORAD's delicate instruments determined the size, shape, alt.i.tude, and speed of the object.

But no one knew what it was.

The thing achieved orbit and now circled the planet, moving toward the equator with each rotation. An hour ago the object had taken its first hostile action - it destroyed a European satellite. Since then the object had destroyed or disabled six more objects in s.p.a.ce. The UFO was showing no partiality toward nationalities.

First a European satellite was killed, then one belonging to the j.a.panese. Then a Russian satellite, a French satellite - and six minutes ago the object had taken out a Pentagon spy satellite in orbit above China.

Already U.S. s.p.a.ce Command was moving any satellite it could out of the object's path. Unfortunately, the Pentagon had moved its nearest satellite, but the object went out of its way to destroy the satellite anyway.

That meant that whatever this thing was, it was guided by an intelligence. But what kind of intelligence? And why destroy satellites without declaring war or without an apparent plan?

Unless the plan is to knock out every single satellite in orbit, Wistendahl pondered, a chill running through him.

That would cripple the whole world and throw us back to the Stone Age ...

Suddenly the gla.s.s doors to the s.p.a.ce Command Center opened, and General Rory Bierce, commander in chief of NORAD, returned from his video conference with the president of the United States and the prime minister of Canada. A tall lieutenant with bland features followed.

"Status!" the general barked.

Colonel Wistendahl, exhausted from being on duty for sixteen hours straight, saluted his commander and made his report.

"The object continues to knock satellites out of the sky, General," Wistendahl replied. "In six minutes, it will hit a Chinese satellite placed in orbit just six weeks ago - unless the Chinese manage to move the thing far enough out of the object's path to save it ..."

The general nodded grimly.

"We have an update on the size of the object, General," Wistendahl continued. He shuffled some papers in his hand and came up with the correct page. "The object has a ma.s.s of about twenty-five to thirty thousand tons. It is about sixty-five to seventy meters long. The thing may have wings, and seems to emit a laser beam - at least that is what destroyed the spy satellite a few minutes ago.

"We have some telescopes tracking it, and hope to have a photograph or computer image of the object in a few more minutes."

"We have those images now, Colonel," General Bierce interrupted. All heads in the SCC turned toward the general when they heard his words. The officer scanned the curious faces staring up at him.

"What I am about to show you must not leave this room," General Bierce announced loudly. "You all have security clearance - remember that what you are about to see is top secret."

The general nodded toward an aide, the tall lieutenant who, Wistendahl suddenly noticed, was wearing a sidearm. The man inserted a disk into the drive of one of the many computers. The man calmly tapped out a security code on the keyboard.

Everyone in the room gasped when they saw the thing on the huge main color monitor.

"Yes," Bierce stated. "I understand your surprise. We think the object is a living thing, or perhaps a cyborg or robot of some kind. Spectrographic scans indicate both the presence of metal and the density of flesh and bone.

"The object did launch from a previously unknown site under the Antarctic. Who knows how long it was buried there?"

"What do you think activated it, General?" Wistendahl asked.

General Bierce shrugged. "There have been reports of earthquake activity in Antarctica, and mysterious disappearances - in one case, an entire scientific research station."

Everyone continued to stare at the thing on the monitor until the voice of Airman Stilson interrupted them.

"The object is approaching the Chinese satellite," she announced. Everyone in the s.p.a.ce Command Center turned their attention to a second screen, which marked and cataloged all the satellites in s.p.a.ce.

Slowly, the red dot representing the unknown object approached the Chinese satellite. Suddenly the two pips crossed paths, and the satellite disappeared from the monitor. The red dot representing the object progressed to its next target.

"If this goes on much longer, every communications satellite in s.p.a.ce will be destroyed in less than three days," Colonel Wistendahl announced.

The general nodded. He had just informed the administration of that fact. The president seemed to have no comment.

"I'm putting us on alert," General Bierce announced. "DEFCON ONE. This facility will be sealed. No one comes in or gets out of NORAD as of now."

"The object is changing course," Stilson interrupted, staring at her monitor. "It is approaching a Saudi Arabian satellite ..."

Colonel Wistendahl and General Bierce exchanged meaningful glances. Both were old Cold Warriors who had fought battles like this before.

"One more thing," the general said finally. "The ... object ... has been given a name. From now on, refer to it as Gigan."

Friday, December 8, 2000, 11:13 A.M.

Taiwan-to-Manila ferry.

Luzon Strait, near the South China Sea.

"Make way for the Gecko Prince!" Jin cried, thrusting his arms out and throwing his emerald-green Gecko cape over his shoulders.

His little sister, Mae, gave her nine-year-old brother a sour look. "I want to be the Gecko Prince," she demanded stubbornly.

Jin brushed aside her protestations. "You can't be the Gecko Prince," he informed her. "You're a girl - and anyway, you don't have a cape."

Lacking an argument to match her brother's, Mae turned to threats. "Mother said you can't wear your cape on this trip. I'm going to tell!" she announced.

Jin, who had been avoiding his parents since the trip on the ocean-going ferry began early that morning, tried to reason with his annoying little sister.

"You can be the Gecko Princess," he announced magnanimously.