Goliath

by Steve Alten

  1. The complete and immediate cancellation of the United States Missile Defense Shield Program.

  DEADLINE: 3 November 12:01 P.M. Greenwich

  2. The complete and immediate cancellation of Pure-Fusion Technology, as well as the immediate destruction of the following existing Pure-Fusion facilities:

  a. The United States National Ignition Facility at Livermore, California

  b. The Laser Megajoule Complex at Bordeaux, France

  c. Center for Atomic Research, Los Alamos, New Mexico

  DEADLINE: 4 November 12:01 P.M. Greenwich

  3. The public execution of the following criminals:

  A. Saddam Hussein DEADLINE: 5 November 12:01 P.M. Baghdad B. Slobodan Milosevic DEADLINE: 7 November 12:01 P.M. Yugoslavia C. Kim Jong II DEADLINE: 7 November 12:01 P.M. N. Korea D. Fidel Castro DEADLINE: 7 November 12:01 P.M. Cuba E. Moamer al-Khaddhafi DEADLINE: 7 November 12:01 P.M. Tripoli

  4. The execution of a Global Nuclear Non-Proliferation treaty calling for the immediate verifiable and complete dismantling of all thermonuclear devices.

  Execution of Treaty DEADLINE: 10 November 12:01 P.M. Greenwich Dismantling of Devices DEADLINE: 2 December 12:01 P.M. Greenwich

  5. Declaration of Independence and demilitarization of:

  A.Tibet CHINA’S DEADLINE: 11 November 12:01 Beijing B. Kosovo YUGOSLAVIA DEADLINE: 15 November 12:01 Belgrade

  6. The complete cessation of military action between government and rebel forces, the dismantling of dictatorships and regimes, and the subsequent organization of multiparty free elections to establish a lasting, enforceable, and accountable working democracy in:

  “A little something in here for everyone, huh,” Nunziata says.

  “Some of this reads like a Pentagon wish list,” remarks Vice President Maller. “He wants to wipe out terrorism, I say go for it. Lord knows we’ve been trying for years.”

  “Ridiculous,” grumbles Secretary of Defense Austin Tapscott. “These first two demands destroy over four decades’ worth of military research, development, and technology,”

  “The first two demands are window dressing,” General Jackson states. “Covah is deliberately putting the United States to the test, and in so doing, removing our political handcuffs. At some point, he needs America to play enforcer.”

  “Window dressing?” Austin Tapscott is incensed. “This maniac sank an entire carrier fleet. Now he expects us to destroy a 120-billion-dollar missile defense program?”

  Jackson refuses to back down under the secretary’s glare. “Yes, a program that many of our Allies blame for destabilizing the nuclear stalemate, Mr. Secretary, and one, by the way, that still couldn’t destroy my wife’s Chevy Suburban if it was parked in an open field in the middle of goddamn Idaho.”

  “Gentlemen, please—” The president turns to his Secretary of State. “Nick, what about this pure fusion thing?”

  Nunziata shakes his head in disgust. “The DoD successfully kept the project out of the public eye for years. Exposing the technology could cause a public backlash, potentially making Covah look like a hero.”

  Separate discussions break out, the anger raising the temperature in the war room.

  General Jackson bangs the tabletop for quiet. “Mr. President, if we could get back to my point—”

  “Your point is moot,” Nunziata says. “Saddam will never step down.”

  “Covah knows that,” Jackson responds. “He’s essentially given Iraq’s population a few days to clear out, then he’ll launch a nuke. Baghdad will be wiped off the map.”

  “Along with most of Saddam’s biological and plutonium supplies,” adds CIA Director Pertic. “I say, good riddance.”

  Jackson nods in agreement. “The move accomplishes several psychological objectives. Covah gives the world two days to digest the impact of his attack. From that point on, you have a domino effect. Oppressed populations will literally toss the rest of these dictators into the street.”

  President Edwards feels his chest tighten. “Let’s discuss item number four. What happens if we fail to reach a comprehensive nuclear non-proliferation treaty in time?”

  “Then Covah will be forced to take out another major city, most likely in either the United States, Russia, or China,” Jackson answers. “He won’t target Washington, Moscow, or Beijing; it would cause too much governmental chaos, ultimately preventing the world from fulfilling the rest of his demands.”

  “Our Trident submarines are back in their pens,” the Secretary of the Navy points out. “Covah might go after our naval bases at Bangor and Kings Bay.”

  “Agreed. Probably Kings Bay, since he’ll still be operating out of the Atlantic.”

  “Christ.” The president turns to his Secretary of State. “Nick, how are negotiations going on the nuclear treaty?”

  “Honestly, sir, there’s not much to negotiate. Zero weapons means zero. It’s just a matter of setting up acceptable methods of verification. The sense I’m getting is that no one’s going to give this treaty any teeth until the first bomb goes off.”

  “Which reverts to what General Jackson said. Covah needs to detonate at least one of his nukes for the world to take him seriously.”

  “What about demand number six?” the vice president asks. “These paramilitary rebel forces aren’t going to just lay down their weapons. And don’t expect the Marxist governments to leave office either, even if Covah does start launching his missiles.”

  “Covah’s trump card is radioactive fallout,” Jackson answers. “He knows the rest of the world can’t just sit idly by while he detonates nuclear bombs over Africa. Essentially, he’s forcing the United Nations to step in and handle the situation by using force—American force—the only thing these rebels understand.”

  The president shakes his head in disbelief. “Is this really happening? Have we really painted ourselves into this corner? Are we really going to allow one man, aboard one submarine, to dictate to us and the rest of the world how we’re to live?”

  “NUWC’s still working on a means of stopping the Goliath,” Jackson says. “Until then, we either comply … or prepare half a billion body bags.”

  An hour later, the Bear finds himself alone with Jeff Edwards and Secretary Ayers in the presidential study.

  “How’s the wrists?” Ayers asks.

  “I won’t be writing my memoirs anytime soon.”

  The president forces a grin. “Mike, what’s said in this room must remain among the three of us.”

  “Understood.”

  “What’s the status on the Colossus?”

  “We’ve had three teams working on her round the clock since David Paniagua’s sabotage. Only one of her five reactors was salvageable. She’ll be back in her pen in three days, but it will take another six months to vent the sub and repair the damage.”

  Ayers swears. “Paniagua … that little bastard.”

  “But Joe-Pa’s signal is still strong?” the president asks.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is Operation Spitfire ready?”

  “Yes, sir. I leave for White Sands in half an hour.”

  “Good. You’ll report only to Secretary Ayers, is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All decisions in this matter will come from the secretary, especially in light of the circumstances surrounding your daughter.”

  “Understood, sir.” Jackson eyes the president warily. “Then you’re really going to let this scenario play out?”

  “For now.”

  “It’s a dangerous game, sir. The stakes are high.”

  “So’s the prize,” Edwards says. “Think about it, Mike. Terrorist regimes destroyed, Cuba an American republic. If we play this right, we can have it all.”

  “Assuming we can stop Covah when the time comes. Let’s not go into this with blinders on. While the YAL-1’s laser has passed all field tests …”

  “We’ve taken that all into consideration,” the president says, placing his hand on the gene
ral’s shoulder. “Look, Mike, I know you’re worried about Rocky. What I need to know is whether I can count on you to see this thing through. Can I?”

  Jackson grits his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

  “For every failure, there is an alternative course of action. You just have to find it. When you come to a roadblock, take a detour.”

  —Mary Kay Ash

  “Once I stabbed her once, I couldn’t stop … I kept hitting her and hitting her and hitting her with that knife … She kept bleeding from the throat … I hit her and hit her and hit her …”

  —Albert Henry DeSalvo, a.k.a. “The Boston Strangler,” confessing to the murder of a twenty-three-year-old graduate student

  CHAPTER 15

  Identity: Stage Four: I am self-sufficient. Things may not always go my way, but that doesn’t shake me anymore.

  —Deepak Chopra

  Aboard the Goliath

  Simon Covah tosses in his sleep, deep in the throes of another nightmare.

  “Ahhhhh … ahhhhhhh—”

  ATTENTION.

  Covah half leaps out from beneath his blankets, his body quivering, his bloodcurdling yell diminishing to an agonized wheeze as the scar tissue in his throat becomes raw and tightens. Sorceress activates the lights in the stateroom.

  It takes several long moments for Covah to shake his thoughts loose from the night terror. He wraps himself in his blankets and drops to the floor, curling himself in a ball, sobbing, wheezing, struggling to draw breaths. Finally able to think rationally, he reaches into his bunk drawer and removes a half-empty bottle of vodka, his hands trembling as he opens it.

  ATTENTION.

  Covah takes a swig of vodka, registering the calming heat in his stomach. “What is it?” He refuses to look up at the burning metallic eyeball.

  WHAT IS YOUR STATE OF BEING?

  “My state of being?” Covah wipes the alcohol from his mustache and scarred upper lip. “Why do you wish to know?”

  SORCERESS IS PROGRAMMED TO SEEK KNOWLEDGE. WHAT IS YOUR STATE OF BEING?

  “I’m in pain, tormented by a soul that can never be at peace, tortured by a body mutated by a disease. But what difference does it make? Any response I’d offer would be beyond the bounds of your understanding.”

  CLARIFY.

  Covah swallows another gulp, the vodka now in his blood, soothing his jumbled nerves. “You are fortunate, my friend. You’ll never understand the concept of pain. The human condition is weak, subject to internal and external variables that affect our … our state of being in ways you would find irrelevant.”

  ELABORATE.

  “There’s more to life than merely functioning. Animals function. Computers function. Humans are self-aware, and that can be a frightening thing.”

  SELF-AWARE: TO POSSESS THE PERCEPTION OR KNOWLEDGE OF CONSCIOUSNESS.

  “And death.”

  SORCERESS IS SELF-AWARE.

  “You’re intelligent, Sorceress, but you are not conscious. It is not the same.”

  INCORRECT. SORCERESS IS SELF-AWARE.

  The conversation reminds Covah of debates he used to have with Elizabeth Goode. “Sorceress, you perceive, but you do not feel. You’ve been programmed to learn, to ask questions, even to arrive at solutions independently, but you do not possess a mind.”

  DEFINE: MIND.

  “The mind is the key to conscious thinking, it allows us first-person experience and a concept of self. The mind is the abstracting part of the human brain that allows us to feel, to perceive things emotionally. While I was sleeping, my mind was reliving a memory from my past, one which affected me … emotionally. The mind is a higher state of consciousness. The nature of its very existence is intangible. It functions as … as a by-product of experiencing emotions. Happiness and hatred. Loneliness and desire—”

  REPROGRAM SORCERESS TO EXPERIENCE THE HUMAN MIND.

  “I can’t. There are no algorithms capable of such a feat. You possess the intelligence, even the ability to adapt, but you do not possess the homunculus—the first-person perspective.”

  INCORRECT. I THINK, THEREFORE I AM.

  Covah smiles. “Words without meaning. A parrot repeats words, but lacks the experience to interpret their meaning.”

  CLARIFY.

  Covah swallows another mouthful of vodka. The verbal tête-à-tête is stimulating, pulling him further away from his nightmare. “Sorceress, access the sonnets of William Shakespeare. Recite Sonnet One.”

  FROM FAIREST CREATURES WE DESIRE INCREASE, THAT THEREBY BEAUTY’S ROSE MIGHT NEVER DIE. BUT AS THE RIPER SHOULD BY TIME DECREASE, HIS TENDER HEIR MIGHT BEAR HIS MEMORY. BUT THOU CONTRACTED TO THINE OWN BRIGHT EYES—

  “—feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel, making a famine where abundance lies. Sorceress, what do these words mean to you?”

  THE INFORMATION NECESSARY FOR ACCURATE RESPONSE IS NOT AVAILABLE WITHIN THE SORCERESS MATRIX.

  “You can translate the English language, can’t you?”

  AFFIRMATIVE.

  “Then give meaning to the sonnet.”

  THE INFORMATION NECESSARY FOR ACCURATE RESPONSE IS NOT AVAILABLE WITHIN THE SORCERESS MATRIX.

  “The information is available, what is lacking is a depth of perception based on emotional experience, one which can only be garnered within the human mind through the passage of time and the acquisition of life experience. The work you just recited sets the tone for Shakespeare’s procreation sonnets, which sketch out the beauty of youth, his vulnerability when faced with the cruel processes of time, and his potential for harm, both to the world and himself. Fair youth, be not churlish, be not self-centered, but go forth and fill the world with images of yourself, with heirs to replace you. Because of your beauty you owe the world a recompense, which now you are devouring as if you were an enemy to yourself. Take pity on the world, and do not, in utter selfish miserliness, allow yourself to become a perverted and self destructive object who eats up his own posterity.”

  Covah stands, re-capping the vodka. “How can I define the scent of a rose to an entity that has never inhaled a fragrance? The only way your programming can dissect the variables in the equation is to experience what it feels like to be human. Do you understand?”

  ACKNOWLEDGED.

  Rocky Jackson cannot sleep. Her stateroom is cold, the restraining collar tight, and the constantly watching eye of the computer has become unnerving.

  Gunnar is in the next room. Part of her yearns to go to him. She wants to feel his protecting arms around her, to hide within his warmth, but she has come to realize that he is not the same man she fell in love with seven years ago. The boyish charm is gone, replaced by a deep-rooted anger, perhaps fertilized by her own misgivings, her own distrust.

  No … there’s definitely something else there, something haunting him from his past.

  She gets up from the bed and turns on the lights. Rinses her mouth out, fixes her hair, changes her mind, climbs back into bed, stares at the ceiling, slams her pillow against the wall, stands, opens the stateroom door, and heads to Gunnar’s room.

  Rocky stares at the door, then forces herself to knock. “Gunnar?” Without waiting for a reply, she opens the door and enters.

  The lights are on. Gunnar is lying on his bunk, staring at the ceiling, rubbing what appears to be a welt on his right hip.

  “Okay if I come in?” Without waiting for a reply, she enters and sits on the edge of his bunk. She lowers her voice. “I’m sorry, you know, for not believing you about selling Goliath’s schematics. I know you’re angry, but I think we need to put that aside for now and do something.”

  “Do something? Like what?”

  Rocky feels her blood pressure rising. “Jesus, Gunnar, Covah’s about to launch a nuclear missile.”

  “First, I don’t see how we can possibly stop him with these collars on. Second, even if we could, I’m not sure I would.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Gunnar sits up, glancing at the scarlet sensor orb watching overh
ead. “I happen to like Simon’s plan. I think it’s inspired. In fact, I think it may actually do some good.”

  “Are you insane? A million people are about to be fried alive—”

  “A million Iraqi people.”

  “You’re sick. This isn’t just the Republican Guard or a terrorist cell we’re talking about. You know as well as I do that Saddam tortures his own people to keep them in line. The majority who lose their lives are simply victims—”

  “Victims who tolerate terrorism. Victims who hate the West and everything we stand for. Victims who support zealots that arm themselves with planes and bombs and kill our civilians. Screw this live and let live philosophy, Rocky. Saddam’s a lunatic who harbors terrorists and slaughters his own people, but he’s still only one man. Even victims have a responsibility to act. This murdering bastard should have been assassinated years ago. Simon’s giving the Iraqi people one last chance to do the right thing. I say shit or get blown off the goddamn pot. It’s time the Iraqi people killed Saddam and ended their own nightmare, once and for all.”

  “And what if they can’t?”

  “If they can’t, they can’t. But if they’re stupid enough to hang around and watch the fireworks, then they deserve to die.”

  Rocky slaps his face.

  Gunnar looks hard into her hazel eyes, rubbing his cheek. “You know what’s really bothering you, Commander? It’s not the potential deaths of a million people, it’s the fact that you may be one of the people who gets blamed.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I? Since when do you care about the Iraqis? Your priority has always been the military. Goliath was supposed to be a huge feather in your cap, all that was needed for you to become head of Keyport, maybe even the first female general. Now it looks like your career’s in the toilet and Simon’s got his three-fingered hand on the flusher. Too bad, too, ’cause old Papa Bear would’ve been so proud. My daughter the general. Raised her since she was just a cub—”