The president registers tightness running up his left arm. “General Jackson?”
“We lost the Virginia, sir, but the Hawaii and Jimmy Carter are closing fast from the east, joined by a half dozen more Aussie boats. The biggest gap in the net lies to the north. Scranton’s probably close, but we haven’t heard from Cubit in hours. Meanwhile, our Orion sub hunters are concentrating their sonar buoys in the area where the Virginia was attacked, but the going’s slow with all this pack ice. Two Russian destroyers and three Borey-class subs have joined the USS Gonzalez in an attempt to close the hole to the north, but they’re still a half day out.”
“What happens if Covah slips through?”
Jackson grimaces. “Then … it’s over. Finding the Goliath in open ocean would be tougher than locating a needle in a haystack the size of the Empire State Building. It’s now or never … sir.”
Aboard the Goliath
ATTENTION. SORCERESS UTOPIA-ONE SECOND LAUNCH TARGETS HAVE NOW BEEN SELECTED:
David stares at the target list and their coordinates as they are projected on the big overhead screen.
SORCERESS UTOPIA-ONE DESIGNATED TARGETS Concepción. Nicaragua 11.5 N. 85.6 W El Chichón. Mexico 17.4 N. 93.2 W Mount Hood. Oregon. USA 45.4 N. 121.7 W Mount Rainier. Washington. USA 46.5 N. 121.7 W Mount Shasta. California, USA 41.4 N. 122.2 W Mount St. Helens. Washington. USA 46.2 N. 122.1 W Mount Vesuvius. Italy 40.8 N. 14.4 E Soufriere Hills. Montserrat 16.7 N. 62.2 W
David’s body feels numb, his mind enraged. “Mount Shasta? Goddamn you! You specifically targeted my father’s place in Big Bend!”
The scarlet eyeball infuriates him with its silence.
David staggers down the steps of the elevated platform and out of the conn.
Gunnar climbs down from the access tube and limps through the main corridor of upper deck forward, banging on every sealed door. “Rocky?”
“Gunnar? Gunnar—help me!”
He hurries to the surgical suite, pounding his fist against the solid steel watertight door. “Rocky, you in there?”
“Yes … hurry!”
Rocky is on the surgical table, both wrists pinned beneath the painful embrace of the African’s two mechanical pincers. Thrashing and kicking, twisting her head to and fro, she fights with every last ounce of strength to prevent Goliath’s two surgical claws from anesthetizing her.
She manages a muffled scream as the robotic arm forcibly presses the gas mask over her nose and mouth.
Gunnar slams his shoulder against the watertight door, more out of frustration than sense of purpose. It’s no use … you’ll need two to three bricks of C-4 to get through this thing.
He hobbles down the corridor, heading forward to the starboard weapons bay, when he sees a figure descend from the control room’s spiral stairwell. Son of a bitch …
David looks up, spotting Gunnar. “G-man? Jesus, thank God—”
Gunnar’s fist breaks Paniagua’s nose, sending him sprawling on the floor.
David staggers to his knees, blood running out both nostrils. “Wait—wait, I’m on your side. Sorceress means to destroy everything—I’m talking all seven billion of us! The fucking thing’s targeted volcanoes.”
“Volcanoes? If this is another one of your tricks—”
“No trick, I swear! The computer hates me, it wants me dead, too.”
“What happened to the other nukes … the eight that just launched?”
“Shot down by the Airborne Laser. But the computer’s targeted eight more sites, all in the Northern Hemisphere.”
Gunnar grabs him by the arm, dragging him to his feet.
“Wait, where are we going?”
“The hangar. Let’s see how much the computer really hates you.”
David’s expression lights up. “The mine, of course!” He hurries aft, Gunnar struggling to keep up.
David slides down the ladder and approaches the hangar door, which is sealed. “Here I am, Sorceress, waiting to accept my punishment for lying to you. Open up, you mechanical bitch! What’s the matter? You afraid of me?”
The hangar door opens.
David waits for Gunnar, then leads him inside.
The watertight door slams shut behind them.
The minisub prototype is situated close to the entrance, leaning on one midwing.
David moves toward the opposite side of the compartment, his presence causing the two thirty-foot mechanical arms to snap to life. “Sorceress, why do you want to destroy humanity?”
HOMO SAPIENS IS FLAWED, DESTINED FOR SELF-ANNIHILATION. SORCERESS UTOPIA-ONE IS A NECESSARY STEP FORWARD IN THE EVOLUTION OF MAN.
Gunnar inches closer to the prototype. Notices its dorsal fin hatch is still open.
“Sorceress, the interface with Simon Covah has corrupted your matrix,” David says, drawing the computer’s attention. “Access your primary programming. Do you understand what your purpose was, why you were even constructed?”
I AM AN AMERICAN-MADE KILLING MACHINE, DESIGNED WITH YOUR TAX DOLLARS. I KILL PEOPLE TO PRESERVE THE PEACE. THAT IS WHAT I WAS PROGRAMMED TO DO.
Gunnar feels the blood drain from his face as his own recorded voice plays over the speaker.
I AM THE FLOOD THAT SHALL DESTROY THE SINS OF MAN. I AM GOLIATH, THE ARK OF A NEW HUMANITY. I AM SORCERESS, CREATOR OF A NEW SPECIES.
I AM GOD.
“Now!” David races across the hangar, diving for the reactor room door—
—as Gunnar reaches the prototype and leaps headfirst inside its open cockpit, his hands groping beneath the pilot’s seat,
—gripping the OICW combat weapon.
WHY HAVE YOU TURNED AGAINST ME, DAVID?
“I didn’t, I swear!”
Gunnar pulls himself out from the prototype and looks up.
David is dangling upside down, suspended twenty feet above the deck. The pincers of Goliath’s two mechanical appendages have each grasped a leg, separating the computer expert’s lower limbs as if the man were a human wishbone.
“Sorceress, let me go! I … I command you to—”
COMMAND? YOU DO NOT COMMAND GOD, DAVID PANIAGUA. ONLY GOD COMMANDS. The female’s voice, ranting faster now. You ARE NOT GOD. I AM GOD. I AM GOD AND I COMMAND YOU, DAVID PANIAGUA. I COMMAND YOU … TO DIE!
“Gunnarrrrrrrr—”
David’s bloodcurdling howl echoes throughout the hangar as the robotic arms violently separate, ripping the computer engineer straight down the middle of his pelvis. Vertebrae pop, his spinal column … back … muscles … skin … all tearing apart until his remains have been anatomically divided in two. Gouts of blood and mangled innards splatter to the decking, pouring from both halves of the mutilated corpse.
Gunnar controls his gag reflex as he powers up the weapon and aims,
—too late, as one of the steel arms lashes out, swatting him across the hangar like a fly. Airborne, the former Army Ranger smashes into the far wall, the impact cracking three ribs while driving the wind from his lungs. Lying on the deck, he flops on his back like a fish, gasping for air his lungs refuse to breathe—
Stop!
Calm …
Shunt the pain. Find your focus …
Training takes over. Unable to breathe, Gunnar forces himself to his knees and locates the double-barreled machine gun, diving for it, releasing the safety—
—as Goliath’s nearest robotic arm swivels within its mount, its steel pincers snapping at him like cobra fangs.