Godzilla at World's End (4 page)

"Sorry, son," Mycroft E. Endicott replied. The communications executive was a large and imposing man, and his natural forcefulness of character seemed to fill the huge office. "You must not be a lawyer, or you would know that a news story isn't slanderous if it's
true
," Endicott stated. "As I see it, Ms. Halliday's report is right on the money. Her sources are rock solid, and INN's legal department has approved the report."

Endicott began to stab the air with his index finger to punctuate his point.

"The president - that's
your
boss - wasted billions of taxpayer dollars. Not once, but
twice.
First by rebuilding the industrial sites in too big a hurry. Then - at the instigation of his inept, ecology-obsessed vice president - by enacting environmental control laws that made those brand-new factories inoperable ... unless, of course, billions
more
tax dollars are wasted on further renovations ..."

Mycroft E. Endicott sighed again and sat back in his chair.

"What the administration has done is madness," Endicott said in a softer voice, but with no less emotion. "And I'm damned proud that one of my reporters had the guts to actually
tell
the American people the truth!"

Despite having his say, Mycroft E. Endicott was still gripped by anger, though he did his best to maintain control in front of this government man. The emotion he felt was a natural one, considering the events of the past months. And his feelings were shared by millions of Americans.

Nearly a year after the passing of Godzilla through the very heartland of America, basic services in the areas affected by the monster's rampage were still not restored. Factories and businesses from California to Indiana to New York City had not yet restarted. They lacked electricity, water, telephone communications, and reliable distribution of raw materials, manufactured goods, and vital services.

Worse still, the destruction wrought by Godzilla acted like a cancer. It was spreading. Now many parts of the country that had in no way been directly affected by Godzilla, King Ghidorah, or Rodan were currently suffering from power and communications failures as well.

Even more shocking than that, the United States had been forced to import basic foodstuffs for the first time in its history. The rich farmlands of the Midwest had not yet recovered from the ravages of Kamacuras. The farming problem also seemed to be spreading, and the more the government tried to help, the more vital crops failed and the more farmers lost their land and their livelihoods.

In the last few years of his second term, the sitting president had used his power to coerce Americans into adopting stringent new rules and regulations that affected nearly all aspects of their everyday lives. Gasoline and electricity were rationed. Imports were restricted. Food might be rationed next. Fuel and food prices were so high now that most people couldn't afford even the basics anymore.

Oil prices were rising, too, as tension that had been building in the Middle East for decades finally exploded. Iran and Iraq were at war with each other again. Egypt and Libya had been sucked into the combat, too. The Iraqis were using their minuscule navy to blockade Persian Gulf oil ports.

Oil exports from that region were effectively stopped, and a worldwide economic recession soon followed. The U.S. stock market was in downward spiral, with the Dow Jones industrial average bottoming out last week below 4,000.

The U.S. president, instead of dealing with the international economic threat, had announced a series of big-government domestic social programs. It was to be the capstone of the president's undistinguished administration - his "visionary" Rebuild America program.

The president promised that he would end America's dependence on imported oil, even as his vice president promised that - to ensure environmental safety and deter global warming - no new nuclear power plants would be constructed in America.

But you can't have your cake and eat it, too.

Without oil imports or nuclear power to fill America's energy needs, nothing in the private sector was working. And government wasn't doing much better, despite all the power it grabbed for itself.

It would be a cold winter in the United States, with heating oil stores depleted and no more being imported.

The administration followed its misguided social programs with massive tax hikes to pay for them. The president promised to use the money for the "common good." Instead, billions and billions of dollars were being squandered because of bureaucratic boondoggles, union corruption, and the criminal negligence of petty "public servants" at every level of government.

Congress was no better. The individual representatives were scrambling to grab as many tax dollars as possible for their own regions - whether their states were affected by Godzilla's passing or not.

Almost nothing that was destroyed by the monsters had been rebuilt - save for an Oakland, California, reconstruction project that was one of the first begun and the most thoroughly supervised. Now America was almost broke, unemployment was higher than twenty percent, and social safety nets were stretched to the breaking point.

The slogan
Let's all pitch in and Rebuild America!
- the product of a Madison Avenue advertising agency - rang more and more hollow every day. Americans were indeed pitching in, but nothing was being accomplished. Morale in the nation was worse than it had been during the Great Depression of the 1930s, and there seemed to be no way out of the economic or social doldrums for the foreseeable future.

The military, which was supposed to be prepared for war, was mobilized domestically to deal with the continuing crisis. Soldiers ran subways and railroads, delivered mail, and built dams and electrical towers, but they did not hone their skills in the art of war. Endicott doubted that the combined might of all the armed services in America today could deal with an actual
military
threat if one should materialize.

The space program was in shambles as well - and
not
just due to the destruction of the space station
Mir
and the shuttle
Atlantis
by King Ghidorah, either. Without adequate supervision, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration had fallen apart. No shuttle had been launched in nine months, and the next scheduled launching had just been delayed for the fifth time.

The satellite system, vital for communications and weather forecasting, was quickly decaying, and few new satellites were being launched to replace those dying of old age in orbit. Mycroft E. Endicott discovered that unless he was willing to wait, he would have to pay the French government to launch his new communications satellite on an Ariane rocket. NASA was so far behind that the agency couldn't fit it into their shuttle schedule before 2015!

Worse than anything else was an announcement that had stunned the country two weeks ago. On a Friday afternoon, after the stock market had closed and most reporters had gone home for the weekend, the president signed an executive order that declared a continuing state of emergency and effectively put the nation under martial law. He even suspended the upcoming presidential election, which was to be held in November 2000, for "at least" three months.

Congress, controlled by the opposition party, began to complain and was still complaining. But the president was careful to cover his tracks with an army of constitutional lawyers - and he
was
the commander in chief of the military. It all seemed legal, so far.

But Americans were grumbling. Soon they might do more than grumble ...

If only the government left the private sector and the common people alone to deal with the problems
, Endicott thought bitterly.
People know what is best for them - government does not. Instead, the administration grabbed more power than it deserved and much more than it could handle ... And just look at the result!

Businessmen like Mycroft E. Endicott had to tread lightly these days. So far the government had left him - and the notion of freedom of speech - alone. At least they had until this little visit from a policy-wonk messenger boy for the president.

"You can certainly see the president's point of view, Mr. Endicott," the young man said, interrupting Endicott's painful musings. "The president has everyone's best interest at heart. He simply wants to assure the American people that the twenty-first century will be a time of peace and prosperity."

"I don't see much prosperity these days," Endicott retorted. "Just a lot of overtaxed people trying to get by.... And you'll have peace only so long as one of those monsters doesn't show up to make trouble again."

"Don't worry about monsters," the young man insisted. "The navy and the coast guard are keeping tabs on Godzilla's activities. Kaijuologists conjecture that Varan is probably dead, King Ghidorah has been kicked off the planet, and Rodan is nesting somewhere in the North Pole."

"That still doesn't explain the lack of prosperity," Endicott remarked, but the young man ignored him.

"So what is your answer?" the man demanded, the arrogance returning to his voice.

Mycroft E. Endicott met the young man's stare with a stare of his own - a stare that soon withered the other man's.

"My answer is this," Endicott said, sitting up straight. "The United States of America is still a free country, with a Bill of Rights that guarantees freedom of speech.

"To put it plainly, that means that the show in question airs tomorrow - as is - whether the president likes it or not."

"If that is your
final
decision ..." the young man said, an annoying squint accompanying his dramatic look of profound disappointment.

"It is," Endicott replied coolly.

The younger man nodded and rose from his chair. He picked up the briefcase at his feet and, without another word, walked to the door. But when his hand touched the doorknob, he paused and turned to the older man again.

"The prosperity will come," the young man stated imperiously. "The president you are so quick to criticize has just worked out a deal with South America that will double the amount of oil the country can import - and will more than make up for losses from the Middle East oil producers."

The young man nodded with self-importance before continuing. "As long as the oil flows, the Rebuild America project will go on."

The man turned the doorknob, then paused again and smiled haughtily. "And we're not going to let any monsters stop us this time, Mr. Endicott!"

Saturday, November 11, 2000, 8:37 P.M.
INN's Maxwell Hulse Memorial Hangar
Hulse Science Complex
Lakehurst, New Jersey

There was no way that Shelly Townsend could hear the private phone ring over the ear-shattering whine of the unshielded turbofan engine. The machine was mounted on a huge metal framework in one corner of the enormous hangar. Its deafening howl filled the cavernous building. Fortunately, Shelly
did
notice the light blinking on the telephone at her father's side. She tapped his shoulder and pointed to the device.

Her father wiped his hands on his white lab coat and cursed. Shelly couldn't hear him, either, but she could read lips well enough to understand what he said.

Simon Townsend rose from the chair, his eyes fixed on the throbbing engine. Despite the massive amount of thrust it expended, the turbofan was still bolted to its framework, not fifty feet away. The walls of the hangar shuddered from the sheer force being generated.

Finally, the man tore his eyes away from the engine and signaled his daughter, raising his right hand and flashing four fingers.

"Four more minutes," the man mouthed.

Shelly nodded, and the aeronautical engineer disappeared into the soundproof booth to answer the call of his sponsor.

The teenager glanced at the control board in front of her, then at the engine itself. So far the engine test looked good, but Shelly knew that something could go wrong at any moment.

She also knew from experience that engine number six was quirky. It had failed a number of times during in-flight testing, and it overheated for the third time yesterday, for no apparent reason.

That incident had prompted this last-minute engine test, which involved removing the engine from the airship, mounting it on the frame, and running it until it overheated again. The maintenance crew grumbled, of course, but thanks to the seemingly bottomless pit of wealth coming from the Independent News Network, everybody would get overtime pay.

Everybody but Shelly Townsend and her father.

They were working because they believed in their work, not because they wanted the money.

With less than a minute to go, the temperature gauge on Shelly's control board began to creep up. Not too much, but enough to force her to keep an eye on the flashing digital display.

With less than thirty seconds to go, the engine temperature began climbing again - at least it did according to the turbofan's internal sensors. Shelly checked the fuel readout. There was plenty of gas left in the engine. She reached out and readjusted the timer, extending the engine test another five minutes. Then she settled down to watch the temperature control.

Though she was only seventeen years old, Shelly Townsend knew the aircraft called the
Destiny Explorer
from stem to stern - almost as well as her father, the man who had designed and built it. Despite her lack of even a high school diploma - a situation that would be remedied in June - Shelly was as capable of carrying out this engine test as one of her father's top technicians.

And she was cheaper, too.

The techs were busy elsewhere, anyway, and Shelly was happy to help. Time was running out. With the official launch of the aircraft a week away, there were a hundred bugs to be found and eradicated. All the personnel at the huge hangar in Lakehurst were burning their candles at both ends.

Shelly noticed that the engine's temperature was increasing rapidly now. She checked a second set of heat sensors, placed in and around vital points of the engine for this test.

But all of
those
readouts were normal.