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

He sat in the reclining chair and considered the control helmet, with its dozens of connections snaking off into the surrounding machinery.

Ren settled the psionic helmet on his head. It ran through the colors of the rainbow and back again; he felt the colors in his brain and smiled a little. The control helmet was not only his invention, but also his new favorite toy. Each time he put it on, he felt it had expanded him in some way. At first, he had used it merely to manipulate shapes on a screen, but eventually he had developed to moving the fingers of a mechanical hand; and he had felt the hand. But it was interfacing through the skull that was truly amazing. The granular control; the insights into his own psyche—unsought, but incredibly valuable. In these last several months he felt like he had finally truly become the man he was meant to be.

“Commence uplink,” Simmons said, over the comm.

“Engaging uplink,” Ren confirmed.

And as energy began to course through the hardware and the skull, it all poured into him. He reached out with invisible senses toward the other bone in the machine. They touched, united, and in an instant the senses of his own body dropped away.

*   *   *

At first Madison thought she was looking at a machine—wires and gears, metal and synthetics. But there was something organic about it; in places Madison thought she saw muscle and sinew, nerves instead of wiring. And up there, on the head, a robotic eye, whirring, dilating—the thing, she realized, that Bernie had described seeing in the lab in Pensacola. The missing object.

Now found.

Of what it was supposed to be, there could be no doubt. The squared off-fins clicked into place as Madison watched, forming a ridge down the middle of the back of the construct, following down to a long, armored tail. Standing on colossal legs, waving far smaller arms, the thing was almost a parody of Godzilla, a child’s attempt to make a Titan from an erector set.

But when the eyes began to glow, it didn’t look silly in the slightest. It looked incredibly dangerous.

“It’s like a … robo-godzilla…” Bernie said.

“No,” Josh said, slowly. “That’s Mechagodzilla.”

So I guess they aren’t building a Skullcrawler army, Madison thought. Then why all the eggs?

The machinery supporting the construct retracted; then the giant robot—cyborg?—began running through a series of motions; lifting its arms, opening and closing its claws, and so forth, like a series of check-ups, Madison realized. If the “eye” Bernie saw just got here, that probably meant this monstrosity had just been completed. They wanted to see if it worked.

And they were in an arena with it. Her bad feeling about this situation was just getting worse and worse.

SEVENTEEN

From the notes of Dr. Chen:

The cuneiform texts unearthed at Ras Shamra tell of a battle between Yahm-Nahar, whose names mean “sea” and “river,” with Baal, whose name means “Lord.” Yahm’s palace is in the Abyss, where he lords cruelly over the other gods. Baal travels to confront him. He is beset by various sea-monsters and is in danger of defeat, but then Kothar-wa-Khasis, Craftsman of the Gods, steps in:

Thereupon answers Kothar-wa-Khasis: “As I have been telling you, and as I tell you again, Cloud Rider. You must annihilate your foes. Then you shall reign as king forever.

Then Kothar brings down two weapons and names them: “Your name is Yagarush, Banisher. Yagarush, banish Yahm, banish Yahm from his throne, Nahar from the seat of his authority. Spring from the hand of Baal, like a bird of prey from his fingers. Strike Prince Yahm between the shoulder blades, between the shoulders of Judge Nahar.

The club springs from the hand of Baal, like a bird of prey from his fingers. It strikes Yahm between the shoulder blades, between the shoulders of Nahar. But Yahm is strong; he is not beaten, his joints do not quiver, he does not fall.

Kothar brings down two weapons and names them. “Your name is Ayamar, Driver. Drive Yahm from his throne, Nahar from his seat of power. Fly from the hand of Baal, from his fingers like a raptor. Strike on the skull of Prince Yahm, between the eyes of Judge Nahar. Let Yahm collapse and fall to earth.”

The weapon flies from the hand of Baal, like a raptor from his fingers. It strikes the skull of Prince Yahm, between the eyes of Judge Nahar. Yahm collapses, he falls to the earth. His joints tremble. His spine shakes. Then Baal drags him out to finish him.

The Baal Cycle, from clay tablets written circa 1500 BCE

Apex Facility, Hong Kong

Ren felt his connection with the Mecha strengthen, but for the first time since wearing the control helmet there was almost a sense of resistance, a slight pushing-back. He knew the biomechanical body was there, felt his control of it, but lacked the ultimate tactile sense that it was his. He could not close his eyes and feel where his feet were. Perhaps it was because this was his first time with the entire machine; the last components had only recently arrived and been incorporated. Naturally the whole was more difficult to control that the parts.

But then, like a piece snapping into place, he felt … completion. Fire surged in his veins, but they were not veins, there was no blood, only connection and power. He opened the eyes he was not born with and saw in colors no human being had ever seen before. Joy like he had never known swelled in him, a sheer delight in this new existence, his mind finally being fulfilled in a body worthy of it.

“Release Number Ten!” he heard Simmons say, as if from another universe.

Well, then. They were about to see, Ren thought, still giddy. This … this was going to be awesome.

Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean

He moved through his territory; his territory moved in him. He knew his