The command center aboard the Saratoga immediately responded. “Sparta 1, Guardian 3. Six Actual requests a sit-rep, over.”

To Cozzone’s relief, the MUTO ignored the stunned Green Berets down on the forest floor. Instead it had torn open the hull of the Alexander Nevsky and was gorging on the glowing plutonium core of the nuclear reactor, gobbling down the red-hot fuel rods like a pelican downing a fish. Cozzone was suddenly very thankful that the MUTO supposedly consumed nuclear radiation. Otherwise he and his men would be fried for sure, gas masks or no gas masks.

He tried to convey to Command what he was seeing.

“Guardian 3, tell the Six it’s… uh… well, it appears to be eating the reactor.”

* * *

Of course, Serizawa thought. Just as it fed on the nuclear fuel at Janjira before.

A momentary hush fell over the CDC. Admiral Stenz looked at Serizawa, who nodded grimly in confirmation of the Green Berets’ on-site assessment of the situation. Stenz absorbed this new intel with admirable calm and efficiency. He stepped briskly to the center of the war room and raised his voice to be heard above the general hubbub.

“Cat’s out of the bag, people,” he declared. “New protocol is safety, not secrecy. Get me eyes in the air. Notify Coast Guard District Fourteen and Hawaii Civil Defense. There are a million people on that island.”

Serizawa recalled the devastation at the M.U.T.O. base and in the Philippines years ago. He could only imagine the consequences of the creature invading a major population center. They were looking at a catastrophe in the making.

“General quarters, please, skipper,” the admiral instructed Captain Hampton. “Set condition one.”

The order spurred the entire naval strike group into action. Crews reported to battle stations as the carrier’s various support ships rotated their huge artillery guns toward the shore. Seeking fresh air, Serizawa stepped out onto the busy flight deck in time to observe the commotion. Flight crews scrambled as several F-35 jet fighters screamed off the runway amidst loud blasts of blistering exhaust. The Lightnings were one-seat, supersonic aircraft capable of reaching the island in seconds. Catapults hurled them into the air at a breathtaking pace.

Covering his ears, Serizawa turned his attention away from the runway to the nearby island. The strike group was positioned off the shore of Oahu in response to the distress signal from the Russian sub. He could see the sparkling lights of Honolulu and Waikiki, as well as the lush green mountains rising up beyond the beaches and resorts. The landmark volcanic cone of Diamond Head dominated the southeastern tip of the island, overlooking the most popular tourist spots. Only a few miles of ocean separated the fleet from the island. Serizawa gazed out over the moonlit waves and the white caps churned up by the coursing battleships. The slumbering Pacific struck him as deceptively placid, hiding an entire undersea ecology with its own unplumbed secrets, such as…