Leviathan (a kaiju serial)

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 09, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 09, 2018




Chapter 1 – From the Depths

George Wilson awoke to the sound of the ringing telephone beside his bed. Reaching over to his bedside cabinet, he drowsily picked up the receiver. “Hello?” He answered, glancing at the alarm clock next to phone – ‘4:15am’ flashed the readout.

“Mr Prime Minister,” said the voice on the over end, “there’s been an attack on the British coast, it’s vital you report to the Cabinet Office immediately.”

“Oh my God, what kind of attack?”, asked Wilson, leaping out of bed to get changed.

“Um…We can’t really go into the specifics now, sir” the voice responded.

“Okay, I’ll be there right away.” Wilson hang up and paced the receiver back on the dock. He opened his wardrobe and pulled out a readily-ironed suit. As be was pulling his trouser legs up, his wife stirred.

“What is it, George?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“There’s been some kind of attack dear – on the coast. We’ve called an immediate COBRA meeting” He began to button up his shirt.

“Oh gosh, who by?”

“That’s just the thing – they didn’t tell me,” Wilson began to knot his tie under his collar. His mind was racing - in his one and a half years in office, he’s never had to deal with something of this magnitude before. As he put his waistcoat on, he soon realised that his public image rested on what was about to happen. Make the right decisions today, and he could go down in history as one of this country’s greatest leaders. He pulled his jacket on and went over to his wife. “I’ll probably see you tonight, dear” he kissed her and made his way out the room, collecting his bag and papers as he left.


In the Cabinet office, the mood was one of alert severity. At the table in the centre of the room was sat the leading ministers and departmental figures tasked with dealing with a crisis, such as the one that was presented this morning. Along the far right were the relevant members of the Home Office, starting with the Department’s Secretary of State. Next to him, sat the Minister of State for Security, who deals with the implementation of strategic defences, the reviewing of national security measures and managing CBRN (Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Nuclear) Defences. To her left was the Minister for Policing and the Fire Services whose job dealt with those said emergency services – in this case, the fire services. Then there were the members of the Ministry of Defence, with their Secretary of State as head. The Minister of State for the Armed Forces tasked with management of regular and reserve armed forces (including the Royal Navy, Royal Marines, British Army and the Royal Air Force). On from him, was the Minister for Defence Procurement, whose job was to coordinate the distribution and use of military equipment and weaponry.

On the far left of the table were the members of the Cabinet Office, Made up of its Secretary – Senior policy advisor to the PM – and the Minister for the Cabinet Office – in charge of organisation and implementation of the cabinet meeting. The head of the Cabinet Office was the Prime Minister, who, with the Downing Street Chief of Staff marched in and took his seat at the table. “Right”, he started, removing his papers from his bag, “what’s the situation?”. There was a nervous between the officials. The Minister for the Cabinet rose to her feet and cleared her throat.

“The crisis is happening on the East coast – Cromer to be exact” she said. “As to the nature of the attack…well we think it’d be best if you see for yourself, sir.” She picked up a remote and turned on the large television opposite from where Wilson sat, and brought up live News coverage from a helicopter. It took him a while to figure out what was being shown until it came to him, prompting him to sit back in his chair and look about the room at the committee members.

“Is this some kind of joke?” He asked, unable to comprehend what was unfolding before his eyes. The stern faces around him confirmed it to be true – The broadcast they were watching depicted what appeared to be some kind of colossal monster tearing its way through the seaside town of Cromer. While details were hard to make out, given the distance of the helicopter, the creature resembled a dinosaur, towering over buildings on two trunk-like legs, balancing itself with a long tail. It had two small arms that ended in clawed hands and a long neck that lead to a head that had a horned neck-frill and two piercing jet-black eyes. “What the Hell is that?” Wilson asked bluntly.

“We’re not sure, exactly,” said the Minister for the Cabinet, “it’s some kind of animal that emerged from the ocean and made its way to land roughly 10 minutes ago.” There was a brief pause as Wilson stared in amazement.

“Well…” he began, “What are our options?” The Secretary of State for the Home Office raised his hand.

“At the moment our top priorities are to ensure the protection of civilians” He stated. “We require the authorisation to send additional emergency services for an immediate evacuation”

“Yes, of course, what are the numbers?” Wilson asked.

“Somewhere between seven to eight thousand.” Replied the Minister for Policing and the Fire Services. Wilson paused for a second.

“And what’s the death toll?” he asked, leading to an anxious silence. The Minister of State for Security broke the silence.

“It’s at an estimated 400 so far” he said. Wilson looked grimly at the TV. The Monster was now at the centre of the town, it’s tail bringing a church crashing down.

“Right then,” said the PM, “I want emergency services personnel there to transport civilians without access to vehicles. Use any spare busses and coaches you can find – speak to the Department for Transport.” The Minister for the Cabinet Office nodded his head and got out his phone.

“There is another issue sir,” said the Secretary of State for Defence, “Since it came ashore, it’s been making its way progressively inland. Our best chance at preventing it from reaching further populated areas is if we act now.”

“What kind of military action would be most effective?” Wilson asked.

“Our best bet would be a series of jet fighters making a tactical strike at the monster” answered the Minister of State for the Armed Forces.

“How long would that take?”

“around 15 minutes”

“Then I want those fighters there as soon as evac procedure is done.”


In the cockpit of the Eurofighter Typhoon, the English countryside zoomed past. Though he was excited to finally see some action, Pilot Officer Henry Sterling found it all so bizarre. It wasn’t just the fact he’s being deployed to British soil, but the nature of the enemy – he’d never seen anything like it. Back at base, he’d only just saw it one the news when the order came through – fly to Cromer and take out the monster, if unable to do that, drive it back into the ocean. A simple seek and destroy mission. As he flew alongside his squadron, a sudden anxiety came over him. Ironically, the anxiety didn’t stem from fear of losing his life, but from the fact he, in his mind, he wasn’t scared enough. While it was true this was unlike any other mission he’d heard of (they were, after all, dealing with what was essentially an animal), the situation still called for the intervention of one the world’s most advanced combat aircraft.

Originally conceived in the late-70s, the Eurofighter Typhoon FGR4 saw numerous delays in its development and production until its initial deployment in 2003, where its proved to be one of the most effective fighters to date. Its carbon fibre composite body leads to a smooth control and easy handling and the cutting-edge twin engine system allows for the fighter to reach speed of Mach 2.0, a crucial component when, in situations like this, every second counts. It’s array of weapons, including four laser-guided bombs, six BVRAAM missiles and a 27mm Mauser gun, allow for maximum defensive and offensive capabilities. Indeed, Henry knew every inch of the aircraft and could truly not feel safer.

“Coming up to target now, prepare for offensive manoeuvre.” Buzzed the squadron leader over the intercom. All five of the aircraft got into a reverse “V” formation, with squadron leader at the back and two craft on either side. In the distance they could see the creature. It was even more incredible now that they’d seen it in person. As they gathered closer, the pilots could make out the tiny faint texture of scales on its body. “Alright men,” spoke the Squadron Leader, “on my word…” they all locked on to the targeted and readied their Mausers, waiting for the order. “FIRE!” Each aircraft let out a burst of gunfire, aiming for the creature’s head and neck. It jolted back, as if agitated, and quickly ducked. The fighters then broke of the tirade of bullets and pulled an Immelmann turn flying away from the target. Henry looked into his rea-view mirror and saw the creature, unaffected, as if the 27mm calibre rounds were merely flies to it.

“Right Men, we’ll come in for another attack – this time we’ll get in closer and use all your BVRAAMs – let him have it!” came from the intercom. The fighters executed another mid-air turn and made their way back towards the monster. Locking on once again, they primed their firing systems – “FIRE!” each pilot squeezed their trigger sent missile after missile hurtling towards the titan. Once again, there appeared to be no visible damage, however the monster did lurch forward and let out and low, guttural growl. Henry was in awe of the animal, wondering if this’ll be the last time that sound was heard by human ears. Unfortunately for Henry, he was so entranced by the creature that he failed to notice its tail coming towards his jet’s nose. He collided with it, the tip smashing against the cockpit window. His Jet was sent summersaulting through the air until, finally coming down into the side of a building in a fiery orb.


Prime Minister Wilson wiped his brow as he left press room. “I thought you handled that rather well, sir” said Phillip, Special Advisor to the PM. They both made their way down the corridor towards the Cabinet Office.

“I don’t want anyone speaking to the press,” said Wilson, “Not until we know for sure what we’re dealing with”. Phillip nodded and scribble. “Who’s this Scientific advisor they’ve got a hold of anyway?”

“Professor Michael Porter, sir” Phillip handed the PM the relevant documents, “former zoologist – used to be viewed as a crackpot for his wild theories on dinosaurs.” Wilson looked at the file, the photograph gave off the impression of a grumpy, bitter old man. “Turns out he was psychic – predicted everything that happened today in this essay.” Phillip rummaged through his folder and pulled out an essay, handing it to Wilson. ‘Megafauna and the Presence of Prehistoric Marine Life in the Modern Day’ read the title.

They came to the Cabinet Room and took they’re seats. On the table was another folder filled with further paperwork. Across the top was a label that read ‘Operation: Leviathan’ – the codename assigned to the monster. “Right, let’s get this meeting underway.” Said Wilson. “Our first item will be our chief scientific advisor, Professor Michael Porter”. He looked across the room and saw the old man rise out of his seat and turn on the projector.

“Thank you, Mr Prime Minister,” he said, “I’ll start with what we do know.” He clicked the remote and a slide came up, displaying an illustration of the Leviathan. “The creature, or ‘Leviathan’ as I understand the committee has assigned it, appears to be some kind of dinosaur possibly from the late Jurassic to Late Cretaceous Period. From the look of it, I believe it to part of either the Theropoda or Sauropterygia family. The two-legged stance and small arms would signify it as a distant cousin of the T-Rex or Giganotosaurus. However, its amphibious nature rules this out and brings to mind the likes of the Plesiosaurus or the Liopleurodon.” As he spoke, he flicked through various illustrations of dinosaurs and prehistoric sea-beasts. “I estimate the creature to be around 60 to 70 feet tall, dwarfing its theropod cousin, the Spinosaurus. Also, as observed by the Jet Fighter offensive, it’s skin is incredibly tough, resisting the full impact of air-to-air missiles at a close range. I theorise that this trait may have developed from its underwater habitat, where it needed to evolve to accommodate the intense pressure in the depths of the ocean.” He flicked through more biological diagrams.

“Why did it suddenly decide to show up today?” Asked Wilson. Professor Porter took a sip of water.

“I was just getting to that,” The Professor flicked through the slides to a picture of a beach drenched in oil, “it’s highly likely that the recent Moloch Energy oil spill resulted in the destruction of Leviathan’s habitat in the North Sea. Because of this, we are likely to see the Leviathan return at some point.” The revelation led to a few anxious murmurs amongst the committee. Professor Porter concluded his presentation and sat back down.

“Thank you, Professor,” said Wilson, “I’ll now hand you over to Simon York, Minister of State for the Armed Forces.” York, a short but rugged looking man, rose and made his to the front of the room.

“As Professor Porter said, there is a high chance the Leviathan will return to British soil,” he said, clearing his throat, “because of this, I propose we take immediate action. The seaside towns and villages that are currently being evacuated are to become the spot for coastal defences. While we were unable to cause and visible damage to the Leviathan, we were able to deter it from making its way further inland and drive its way back to the sea. Speaking of which, I propose we deploy several Astute-class submarines throughout the North Sea, with the aim of destroying the enemy with nuclear warheads.”

“With all due respect,” came a voice, “what you’re asking for is the militarisation of civilian areas.” People turned to see the speaker – the Parliamentary Under Secretary of State for the Environment. “And the use of nuclear weaponry could be detrimental to the eco-system in the North Sea – it was environmental devastation that brought this disaster in the first place.”

“Mr Prime Minister,” said York, “the longer we leave this, the less ready we’ll be when it returns, it’s time to act now.” Wilson leaned back in his chair and flicked through the documents.

“Professor Porter,” inquired Wilson, “How long do you estimate until the Leviathan returns?”

“Hard to say,” Said Porter, “could be matter of minutes or a matter of weeks”

“I don’t think you need to speculate any longer,” spoke Phillip, looking at his phone, “it’s just come ashore in Clacton.”


To be continued…

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