He opened his mouth, and red energy surged forth. It pierced the Skullcrawler through its gaping maw. He dragged the beam down to disembowel it, cut it completely in half. He felt a shudder of ecstasy as it died, writhing in his grip. This was what it was like to be a god, he knew.
* * *
Madison scrambled back to her feet and saw that the Mechagodzilla had snatched the Skullcrawler up. She ran toward the open hatch of the bunker, where Bernie and Josh were frantically gesturing her on.
As she reached it, she saw a red beam shoot out from the mechanical Titan, a horrible, distorted version of Godzilla’s ultimate weapon. Then she reached the bunker, jumped in, yanked down the hatch, and turned the metal valve that secured it.
Through the windows ringing their shelter, Madison was able to crane her neck and see the red beam split the Skullcrawler in half. Then, quite suddenly, the mechanical monster dropped the corpse. She flinched back as the thing hit their hiding place, drenching it in yellow goo.
* * *
Every inch of Ren trembled as the Skullcrawler disintegrated in the red energy of his breath. He had fantasized what such power might be like, but his imaginings were pale compared to the reality. He pulled the monster apart as it split down the seams, enjoying every second.
Then it was all fading, gone; the claws, the legs, the fins, were no longer his. The Skullcrawler in his grip vanished like a mirage. The power dropped away—not gradually, but like a fuse blowing, a stroke, a catastrophic failure that cascaded through the Mecha’s systems. It almost felt like his own body was failing too, as if his heart had stopped and his lungs were empty, with no more air to draw into them. Every nerve ached and then he lost sensation in his limbs, his back, finally everywhere. All of his senses switched off; his sight was the last to go, and then he was in an absolute void. For that moment, he thought he had died, that the connection had been so intense that when the tech failed, his real body had shut down, too. But then his mind adjusted; he was once again small, and flesh, staring at the warning that his on-board battery was depleted.
“System only reached forty percent power,” he reported to Simmons, when he could talk again. Depression washed in, a cold, black tide—familiar, but never welcome.
“As expected,” Simmons replied. “Don’t worry, once the Hollow Earth signal is uploaded, our power troubles will be over.”
“If they can find the energy source,” Ren said. He tried to rein in his pessimism, the disappointment. He had been so close! To be shut down like that was … hard to take. He needed more power. He craved it. Only then could the Mecha be what he had designed it to be. Only then could he be what he was meant to be.
“I have faith in Maia,” Simmons replied. “I have faith in our creation. And humanity will once again be the apex species. And once I destroy Godzilla, the world will bow to me.”
“Our” creation, Ren thought, caustically. Just give me this energy source, you chattering baboon.
But he said nothing. He needed Simmons. For now.
Aboard the Argo
En Route to Hong Kong
Mark watched their flight path, a long arc over the pole bending toward Hong Kong. He remembered his last trip there with Emma. She had been a few weeks’ pregnant with Madison at the time, and they were both still innocent to how much that simple fact would change their lives. He remembered street food and the waterfront, hiking through the mountains that stuck right up out of the metropolis, a long day on the beach. There had been a conference, too, and they had both given papers, but he would be hard pressed to remember what either of them had been about. He remembered it as one of the last times the two of them had been alone. When Andrew came it had been wonderful, and he had fallen in love again in a way he had never imagined he could, with both his son and his wife. But it had all been different, more complicated. He wouldn’t have done anything different, at least not up until the point, years later, when Andrew was killed. But if he could go back to that day on the beach at Big Wave Bay with Emma one more time, he would.
He doubted he would see the beach this time, at least not up close, not with Godzilla’s latest activities. The Titan had appeared to attack the convoy escorting Kong to Antarctica. Mark had seen the briefing, watched grimly as the Titan leveled a fleet of ships and beat Kong nearly to death. Lind had managed to salvage the situation, sort of, but the loss of life and property was appalling.
Godzilla might have been their ally once against a common threat. But it seemed clear that that no longer held true. The Titan’s need to be the alpha had become toxic.
Of course, he’d vanished after the attack, only to surface again near the Philippines. He had bypassed those islands, though, and all of the models predicted an arrival in Hong Kong. And Godzilla was hauling ass, even for Godzilla.
And so the director had called him in.
And apparently wanted a conference call now. Mark logged on to his laptop computer and entered the video call. The background showed the inside of the command center, with displays and techs behind the director.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
“So I see,” Guillerman replied. “Thank you for responding so quickly. I’m looking forward to your arrival. But events are developing quickly here.”
“I understand,” Mark said.
Guillerman had been brought in a few years before to replace Ishiro Serizawa. Those were big shoes to fill, and Mark had his
