Godzilla vs. Kong by Greg Keyes (read people like a book .txt) 📕

“But—why?”

“I don’t need it anymore,” Dave said. “I’ve got you now.”

“I can’t—”

“Sure you can,” Dave said. “You were right. I did cheat. It belongs to you.”

“Dave, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say goodnight,” his brother replied. “I’d better get my beauty sleep. I want to be sharp when I get behind the stick.”

“Right,” Nathan said, taking the little plastic doll and looking at it. Remembering. “See you in the morning.”

*   *   *

The next morning, Nathan watched nervously as Dave and his team went through their checklists and their craft were fueled on the deck of the carrier.

The press corps arrived, and it was showtime.

There were more of them than he had imagined, which he supposed was good news.

Once he thought they were ready, he cleared his throat.

He waved at the three aircraft.

“Good morning,” he said. “The, uh, expedition consists, as you can see, of three state-of-the-art Monarch hover jets. They have been modified, reduced from two-seater to single-seater craft to accommodate a variety of scientific instruments. I know they aren’t all that impressive in terms of size, but they are exceptionally maneuverable, capable of supersonic flight, and equipped with the specialized communications equipment they will need for their descent into the Hollow Earth.”

“Dr. Lind,” one of the reporters interrupted. “You speak of the Hollow Earth as if you have evidence for its existence. But surely you know the vast majority of Earth scientists consider your theory as ridiculous as that of a flat Earth.”

“Yes,” Nathan said. “I am aware of that. But I can assure you, we would not have mounted this expedition unless we were quite sure there was a place for these aircraft to explore. I am aware that my claims are unorthodox, but I think that in a very short time you all will see them borne out. This is what science does; it tests predictions.”

“You’re saying there is a hole big enough to fly aircraft through that goes through the crust of the planet,” another reporter said. “How can such a passage resist the intense pressure, the temperatures that most surely melt stone?”

“Both of those objections are based upon false assumptions,” Nathan said. “The data I have collected, and my calculations based on them, demonstrate there is a sort of membrane, an electrostatic-gravitational anomaly that separates the Hollow Earth from the upper parts of the planet. The mathematics predict a sort of acceleration vortex. It will be something like slipping into a jetstream and will carry our explorers very far down in a very short time. When they come out the other end of it, they should be at their destination. Their instruments might get wonky during that time, but communication ought to resume when they reach the other side. Just to be sure, they will release a series of relay devices as they descend.”

“And supposing all of this is true,” another reporter asked. “And there is some vast system of caverns down there. Some have rumored that Godzilla and the other Titans may have their origins down there. What will your team do if they encounter … monsters?”

“Then we come back,” Dave said, from right next to him. Nathan jumped a little. He hadn’t seen his brother walk up.

Dave gestured at their exploration craft.

“We couldn’t make room in these beauties for weapons. Even if we had, we know they wouldn’t be too useful if we run into Titans. So we stay alert, we fly true, we come home. And hopefully, we’ll have some fantastic images for you.”

“So where is this happening?” a reporter asked. “Are they going to dive down into the ocean?”

“No,” Nathan said. “The opening—we call it the Vortex—is on land and nearby, but the climactic conditions are rather extreme, so we’ll be monitoring the expedition from this carrier. The exact location is secret, for obvious reasons, which is why we have been jamming any GPS equipment you might have. You will all be allowed on the bridge to watch things as they develop. If you go above deck you won’t see much, but if you do you might want to dress for wet weather. We have a storm coming in.”

*   *   *

The storm wasn’t coming to them, of course—they were going to it. Nathan watched as the black clouds grew until they blotted out the eastern sky. They came to a stop just outside of the storm’s radius, at Dave’s request.

“We won’t have a problem flying through all that,” he said, waving at the cloud. “But taking off in a full-on thunderstorm—why take the chance.”

“Once you’ve taken off, we’ll ease in closer,” Nathan said. “I want to be as close as possible to the relays.”

“That’s all you,” Dave said. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re watching me.”

*   *   *

Nathan had compared their endeavor to the space program, with some justice, he thought. And yet it started with considerably less fanfare. There was no countdown, no spectacular lift-off. The three aircraft simply rose up on their under-jets and flew off toward the standing storm. As promised, the ship started forward almost immediately, nudging into the tempest. As sheets of rain swept across the deck, the last of the reporters came onto the bridge.

Dave’s plane had forward-mounted cameras, and what they showed now was nothing but clouds. Nathan knew the pilots had radar and other instruments working for them, but he felt claustrophobic just looking at the screen.

Once he’d been driving in a rainstorm when an eighteen-wheeler passed him and doused his windshield with so much water it took his wipers what seemed like an eternity to clear it. He hadn’t been able to see anything—not the taillights of the cars in front of him, not the shapes of the cars, nothing. If he’d slammed on the brakes, he’d known he might be rear-ended, but how could he keep going when he might smash into a car in front of him at any moment? He had barely managed to control his panic, and that was