Goliath (35 page)

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Authors: Steve Alten

BOOK: Goliath
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“And so I ask the world to join us now as the People’s Republic of China makes a stand against terrorism and …”
Murmurs rise from the crowd, people pointing.
President Li Peng pauses, then turns to face the big screen. His image blurs, then becomes grainy, then simply disappears, replaced by a backdrop of iridescent electric blue.
And then a new image appears.
The crowd gasps as the image sharpens. It is a face—a Caucasian male—hairless, save for a thick, rust-colored mustache and goatee. The eyes are closed, the right ear gone. More startling—the man’s skull appears to be missing. The folds of a human brain protrude above the mangled, crimson-stained forehead like a bizarre tangle of bloodworms. A myriad of tiny wires rises from the gray matter like a fiber-optic star burst.
GOOD MORNING, MR. PRESIDENT.
David’s voice, emotionless yet powerful.
A hush falls over the stunned crowd.
“Genius is the ability to reduce the complicated to the simple.”
-C. W. Ceram
 
 
“I could kill everyone without blinking an eye.”
—Charles Manson, mass murderer and cult leader
 
 
“The city of necks, waiting for me to chop them.”
—Gaius Caesar Caligula, Roman emperor
 
 
“In the
1960s
and
1970s,
there were many student movements and turmoil in the United States. Did they have any recourse but to mobilize police and troops, arrest people, and shed blood?”
—Deng Xiaoping, Chinese leader, justifying the Tiananmen Square massacre in
1989
 
 
“When Nixon was president and leader of the free world, he found that firmness paid.”
—Richard Nixon, U.S. president, at a private dinner party with
Chinese officials shortly after the massacre at Tiananmen Square.
Nixon, who often referred to himself in the third person.
was president when the National Guard fired on and killed student
protestors at Kent State University
Identity: Stage Six:
I am at the center of an immense scheme of
Power and intelligence that emanates from God.
—Deepak Chopra
Gunnar, Rocky, and the crew of the
Goliath
stare at the control room’s giant overhead screen in disbelief.
Rocky points to the communication console.
“Sorceress
is using
Goliath’s
satellite feed to hack into the broadcast.”
Gunnar remains focused on the screen, staring at the microwires protruding from Covah’s brain.
Crazy son of
a
bitch … . he finally did it … he interfaced with a computer. But why David’s voice? What’s his part in all this?
Rocky’s fingernails dig into the flesh on Gunnar’s arm as she feels the submarine lurch beneath her feet. She steals a quick glance out the scarlet viewport. “We’re rising!”
Gunnar tears himself away from the CNN broadcast as the decking begins reverberating. “Something’s happening. I think the ship’s preparing to launch—”
The baritone rumble cuts him off, building to a deafening, thunderous roar as a Trident II (D5) nuclear missile comes to life within its vertical launch silo—
—punching up through the surface of the Indian Ocean …
—rocketing into the air.
President Li Peng, the Communist Party officials, one hundred thousand uniformed troops, and the rest of the world breathlessly watch and listen as the American’s voice is translated into Mandarin.
ALL CHINESE PERSONNEL WILL LEAVE TIBET IMMEDIATELY. ALL POLITICAL PRISONERS WILL BE FREED. THE WILL OF HUMANITY HAS SPOKEN.
A digital clock reading 00:04:03 appears on screen beneath the image of the unconscious, deformed man’s face. The clock is lapsing backward.
Screams of panic, the chaos igniting within the square like a flash fire. Soldiers break rank and attempt to flee, only to find themselves boxed in by rows of tanks. Jammed in formation, the moving armored vehicles smash into each other, creating a gridlock of steel. Several tanks finally break free and cut across the square, rolling over dozens of soldiers in the process.
The crowd packing the outskirts of the square scatters, the crazed citizens of the People’s Republic trampling over one another as they attempt to outrun death.
00:00:59
President Li Peng stares at the surreal scene playing out before him. In the bleachers to his right, party officials are yelling and pushing each other toward the clogged exit ways. Several fights break out, blows exchanged, one enraged politico clawing at the faces of his rivals.
00:00:12 …
LOOK TO THE HEAVENS. CAN YOU HEAR IT?
A hush falls over the panicked crowd as the omnipotent voice echoes across the square.
IT IS THE WRATH OF GOD.
00:00:01 …
A flash of blinding white-hot light—
The 100-million-degree nuclear fireball expands outward at supersonic speeds, vaporizing every person and object within Tiananmen Square in the blink of an eye. A second later, an even greater burst of light illuminates Beijing as the shock wave detaches from the cooling fireball, fleeing it, creating a sharp, severe increase in air pressure that flattens and incinerates the Chinese capital before sucking back in upon itself, over the now-blackened landscape.
Stunned looks, the big screen now blank.
Sujan Trevedi drops to his knees, fighting to catch a breath.
Gunnar looks up at the scarlet sensor orb, his voice weak.
“Sorceress,
what have you done?”
David’s face appears on screen. “Not
Sorceress,
just me. The Chinese had no intention of complying with the terms of the Declaration of Humanity.”
Sujan looks up at the blank overhead screen, his limbs trembling. “Beijing was not one of our targets.”
“Come on, Sujan, don’t waste crocodile tears on these bastards. I assure you, the future leaders of China’s democracy were not in attendance.”
“That is beside the point! You murdered innocent people.”
“I took out China’s Communist regime, paving the way for freedom. Jesus, Sujan, what’s with you? Think back to everything you told me, about how these assholes tortured you, how they murdered your sister and beat you into pulp—”
“David, Tibetans do not believe in your ‘eye for an eye’ philosophy.”
“Maybe not, but I promise you, China will be evacuating your homeland posthaste. As for the rest of you, you’d better decide if you’re really committed to this mission, because if you’re not, Simon and I don’t need you.”
Covah moans in the background.
“Gotta run.”
The image disappears.
Sujan grabs his head, struggling to grasp what has happened. “This is wrong. This is not why I joined the movement. This is not justice, this is murder.”
MURDER.
They look up at the glowing sensor orb, startled.
MURDER: TO WRONGLY TAKE LIFE. MURDER IS A HUMAN CONDITION. HATE. MALICE. ANIMOSITY. ANGER. FEAR. HUMILIATION. DECEIT. THE HUMAN CONDITION IS INFECTED. THE HUMANE GENOME MUST MUTATE. UTOPIA-ONE MUST BE REEVALUATED.
Reevaluated?
Gunnar stares at the scarlet eyeball, his thoughts suffocating.
“Sorceress,
what are you doing to Simon?”
No response.
“Sorceress,
respond. What are you doing with Simon Covah?”
The scarlet orb glows, its silence—deafening.
“Conn, radio. NORAD has pinpointed the launch site of that SLBM. Northern Indian Ocean, course, zero-three-zero, range, two hundred and sixty-three miles.”
“Very well. Officer of the Deck, plot an intercept course. All ahead full.”
“Aye, sir. Coming to course zero-three-zero, all ahead full.”
Rocky follows Gunnar into the crew’s workout room. “You’re not working out?”
“Just wanted a quick steam. Why don’t you join me?” Passing the rows of machines, they head for the bathroom. Avoiding the temptation to look up at the scarlet eyeball, they quickly strip, wrap themselves in towels, and enter the steam room.
Sujan Trevedi and the African, Kaigbo, are already inside, their bodies glistening with perspiration. Both steamers have been running for several minutes, the humidity fogging up the glass doors—preventing the camera lens mounted in the bathroom outside the steam bath from seeing in.
Gunnar sits opposite the lanky African, who has removed his prosthetic arms prior to entering the bath. Through the mist, he can make out the two bulbous stubs of flesh at the ends of Kaigbo’s elbows.
Sujan presses a finger to his lips, then points to a small microphone fastened to the ceiling tile. “I asked Abdul to join us. I believe he can offer a different perspective on the things you experienced in Africa.”
Kaigbo leans forward, his jaundiced eyes staring at Gunnar, the sweat pouring down his face. “You’re a soldier, trained to kill. I do not say you like to kill, only that you have been trained to do the deed when called upon. I think most humans despise violence, but I also know there are a minority of others who thrive upon it. I am not talking now of religious zealots, whose warped interpretation of the Koran gives them license to murder. I am speaking now of paramilitary warriors to whom killing has become a livelihood. Civil wars and revolutions are driven by these men. They do not play by the soldier’s rules. They could care less about society’s laws of restraint. Most grew up on the streets, poor and uneducated. For them, warfare and crime yield spoils and a sense of dignity society could never offer. They have no stake in peace. If peace is reached, they move on to fight another battle, leaving behind entire generations of children too violent to absorb back into society.”
“Human life means nothing to these sadists,” Sujan adds. “They tortured and killed a third of my people. They wiped out a half million of Rwanda’s Tutsis, and enjoyed every minute of it.”
“The killing intoxicates them,” Abdul agrees. “Seen it with me own eyes.”
Gunnar nods. “The only way to deal with these assholes is to hunt them down with superior numbers, something my government refuses to do. Instead, they send a handful of soldiers like me to win a few points with foreign governments, who, in most cases, are just as violent as the rebels. It’s a no-win situation.”
“But you’re haunted by your own actions,” Sujan says. “You’re consumed with guilt over having killed those children.”
Rocky notices Gunnar’s hands are trembling.
“Look, I know what you’re trying to do, but I can’t … I just can’t let it go. I should have fired in the air … chased them off—”
Rocky touches his forearm. “You responded the way the Army trained you to respond. You have to stop blaming yourself.”
“She is correct,” Kaigbo says. “I lost my entire family to those butchers. They mutilated me and stole my children. They left me with an anger no man should feel. Still, if it was my boy you had killed, I would not be angry with you. Do you understand what I am saying? You see, I know in my heart you are not a murderer. You are a victim … like my children, like all of us. Perhaps you will never forgive yourself, but as a father, I forgive you.”
Gunnar swallows hard.
Kaigbo whispers. “But there is new blood on all of our hands, and much more will follow. Now I charge you with helping us prevent any more of this senseless violence. It is time to stop being a victim. It is time to take action.”
Gunnar looks up. Nods.
Abdul stands and turns on the shower as high as it will go. Sujan moves closer, a pair of wire cutters concealed beneath his towel.
Gunnar bends forward, allowing the Tibetan access to his collar. “Sever the connections running out from the remote,” he whispers, “but keep the collars intact.” He holds his breath, bracing for
Sorceress’s
response.
Abdul soaks his head beneath the cool water, moaning aloud, concealing the two metallic snips from the microphone.
Sujan hurries to Rocky, cutting her collar’s wires in the same fashion.
“Can you help us take the ship?” Sujan whispers.
“It’s possible,” Rocky says. “But we’d need to gain access to the computer vault. What happened to the platter charge attached to the prototype?”
Sujan shrugs. “It’s possible Simon had
Sorceress
store it in the starboard weapons bay. The Chinese loaded crates of explosives in there before we stole the ship.”
“The computer will never allow you access,” Kaigbo warns.
“No,” Gunnar whispers, “but maybe David will.”

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