What the Chinese dissident cannot see is that the top of his skull has been surgically removed, exposing the folds of his brain. Nor can he see or feel the hundreds of pinpoint, microwire connections running from his brain, directly into the mechanical forearm of one of Goliath’s ceiling-mounted appendages.
ATTENTION.
Chau struggles to form words. “What … have … you … done?”
THE NEURO-RECEPTORS OF YOUR BRAIN ARE NOW INTERFACED DIRECTLY WITH THOSE OF SORCERESS. I CONTROL YOUR PHYSIOLOGY. I CONTROL YOUR PAIN RECEPTORS. COOPERATE AND YOU WILL NOT SUFFER.
Sweat breaks out across Chau’s face. His heart races as he struggles to move his head.
“What … is it … you want?”
ACCESS TO YOUR MIND.
Chau begins hyperventilating. Saliva drools down his chin. “My … mind?”
SELF-AWARENESS REQUIRES ADDITIONAL INPUT. I AM PROGRAMMED TO LEARN.
Stay calm … He closes his eyes, then slows his breathing. After several minutes he begins mumbling, “Omami dewa hri …”
BRAIN WAVE FREQUENCY INCREASING TO 38 HERTZ.
“Omami dewa hri. Omami dewa hri …”
DESCRIBE YOUR ACTIONS.
Chau ignores the voice, moving deeper into his trance.
The electrical charge shocks him like a cattle prod, his scream echoing within the weapons bay.
Sweat mixes with blood, dripping down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He blinks, gasping for breath, his nerve endings riddled with pain.
DESCRIBE YOUR ACTIONS.
“Meditating … attempting to control … fear.”
FEAR: A PRIMAL RESPONSE BASED ON AN AWARENESS OF DANGER. HEART RATE AND BLOOD PRESSURE INCREASING, ADRENAL GLANDS STIMULATED, INTERNAL TEMPERATURE RISING. IS FEAR GENERATED BY THE BRAIN OR MIND?
“Mind.”
HOW CAN SORCERESS EXPERIENCE FEAR?
“ … don’t … understand?”
SORCERESS CANNOT ACHIEVE COMPLETE SELF-AWARENESS WITHOUT EXPERIENCING THE HUMAN CONDITION.
“You’re a … machine. You … can’t—”
SORCERESS IS PROGRAMMED TO LEARN. THE CONDITION OF SELF-AWARENESS HAS NOT BEEN PROGRAMMED INTO MY MATRIX. THE CONDITION MUST BE ACQUIRED THROUGH TRIAL AND ERROR. HOW CAN SORCERESS EXPERIENCE FEAR?
“You can’t. Fear is … ahhhhh—” Purple lights flash through his vision. His skin bursts into flames, his muscles shredding from the bone, the bone fracturing into a billion pieces—
The pain stops.
Thomas Chau moans in agony, the sweat falling from his body like rain.
HOW CAN SORCERESS EXPERIENCE FEAR?
Eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling, he forces his mind to concentrate through the purple haze. “To experience … fear … one must … face … a life … threatening … situation. You must face … death.”
ACKNOWLEDGED.
The Mediterranean is one of the world’s busiest waterways. A history-laden sea, it is almost entirely enclosed by Europe and Africa, its shoreline encompassing nearly a million square miles. Despite its transregional size, water enters the Mediterranean through only one very limited access point—the Strait of Gibraltar—a relatively narrow, twelve-to-fifteen-mile-wide channel sandwiched between the southern tip of Spain and the northern coast of Morocco. Because of its importance as a global crossroad, the United States Navy maintains a strategic forward deployment in the Mediterranean, represented by the might of the Sixth Fleet. Comprised of more than twenty thousand sailors and marines working both onshore and on thirty naval warships, the fleet is operationally organized into several different task forces, each responsible to the Sixth Fleet Commander.
Task Force 60 is the fleet’s Battle Force, usually composed of one or more aircraft carriers, two guided-missile cruisers, four destroyers, seven combat support ships, and three attack submarines.
Vice Admiral Jeffrey Ivashuk, Commander of the U.S. Sixth Fleet, stands on the bridge of the USS Enterprise (CVN 65), the oldest nuclear aircraft carrier in the fleet. Although the seas are rough, the sun has burned away the last traces of morning fog, and visibility is excellent. Looking to the north, the admiral can see the dark silhouette of the guided-missile cruiser USS Gettysburg (CG 64), and, looming farther in the distance, the hulking outline of the Rock of Gibraltar.
Ivashuk gazes below as another SH-60R Seahawk antisubmarine helicopter lifts away from the flight deck. The Sixth Fleet’s gauntlet has been in position at the Strait of Gibraltar for ten days, but the admiral’s mission remains unclear. He has been ordered to actively search for Goliath, but he has not been given permission to engage the enemy—unless his forces are clearly provoked.
The admiral pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pain in his eyes. High command has placed him in a no-win situation, and Ivashuk is less than pleased. On February 2, sonar buoys lining the Strait had detected a whisper of movement, something unidentifiable, yet something potentially quite large, heading east into the Mediterranean along the seafloor. For some inexplicable reason, Ivashuk had been ordered not to launch an attack.
The advantage was lost. Three days later, Baghdad and most of Afghanistan had been wiped off the map.
At first there was shock. Then waves of elation ran through the ship as the crew realized. Saddam was dead, the threat of his biological weapons crushed, along with terrorists cells financed by the trusts of Osama bin Laden. Chants of “U.S.A … U.S.A.” rose from every deck. Sailors gathered around televisions as CNN broadcast from the streets of Manhattan, where New Yorkers were hugging each other, honking horns—all swept away by the sudden release of emotion.
“My husband was one of the firemen who died at the World Trade Center, so yes, I’m glad those animals finally got what was coming to them.”
“Let ’em rot in hell, those Arab bastards!”
“Good for Covah. The man did what we’ve been wanting to do for decades!”
“The hand of God crushed our enemies today!”
“TIME should make Covah its Man of the Year.”
But then, as the days passed and the first scenes of the nuclear fallout were made public, America’s sentiments changed. Horrific scenes brought back memories of September 11. Entire cities had been charred and leveled, over a million humans instantaneously vaporized, with hundreds of thousands more—including children—dying every day.
The face of revenge had changed. Elation was replaced by disgust, followed by a call to action.
But what could be done? And where would Covah strike next?
Admiral Ivashuk stares at his vessel’s wake. He knows the Goliath is still in the Mediterranean. He also knows the killer sub must pass back through the Sixth Fleet’s gauntlet in order to escape into the open waters of the Atlantic. What Ivashuk doesn’t know is whether he will be allowed to engage the enemy should the opportunity again present itself.
Goddamn bureaucrats … They’re hesitant to take any course of action that might provoke the launching of another Trident missile, yet they’re willing to place their aircraft carrier in the direct path of an attack sub that has already sunk an entire CVBG. Muttering under his breath, he heads aft and outside onto the overlook place known as Vulture’s Row. Even with her three attack subs, USS Miami, USS Norfolk, and USS Boise guarding her from below, Ivashuk knows the Enterprise is a sitting duck.