by Steve Alten
“Simon—”
“This is the question I’ve sought answers to for decades, ever since those Serbian animals butchered my wife and daughters, ever since they set fire to me and left me for dead. The violence never bothered them, David, it seemed to … it seemed to intoxicate them. Can’t you see why this is so important to me? Can’t you see?”
David rests his hands on Covah’s shoulders. “I understand, Simon. And I want you to know that I’m here for you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Thank you.” Covah takes several shallow breaths, exhausted. “There’s so much to do, so much preparation. just before the surgical procedure, I’ll turn over control of the ship to you. You’ll be in charge of our mission. Are you up for it?”
“More than you know.”
“Good, good. Wait, what about the crew? What should we tell them?”
“Let me handle that. You need to prepare for surgery.”
“Yes, better you handle is …” The pale blue eyes twitch as Covah mentally reviews his to-do list. “I’ve already preprogrammed Utopia-One into Sorceress’s matrix. When the time comes, instruct the computer to disengage Utopia-One: Response Beta.”
“And if the Chinese refuse to release Tibet? What city have you instructed Sorceress to fire upon?”
“There are seven Chinese targets, all weapons facilities, one located in each of the country’s military zones. Six of them will be destroyed using Tomahawks. The seventh, the submarine base in Quingdao, will be hit with a nuclear warhead. Each population will be warned twelve hours prior to launch. After our example on Baghdad, civilian casualties should be light.”
“Destroying a few military installations isn’t going to change anything, Simon. The Chinese people want democracy, it’s the hard-line Communists who won’t let go. We need to strike at the heart of China—Beijing!”
“No, out of the question. A strike against Beijing will create a backlash, it will alter the perception of our own movement.”
“You’re right, of course. Forgive me. I’m just excited, you know, about finding a cure for your cancer.”
“Understandable.” Covah returns to his list. Suddenly remembers. “David, were you able to complete a thorough diagnostic on Sorceress’s plasmid DNA strands?”
David smiles. “No worries, everything’s normal. Turned out to be a short in the computer’s auditory feed, just like I said.”
“Progress always involves risk; you can’t steal second base and keep your foot on first.”
—Frederick Wilcox
“We used to think our future was in the stars. Now we know it’s in our genes.”
—James Watson
“I am not advocating human genetic engineering as a good thing. I am just saying it is likely to happen whether we like it or not.”
—Stephen Hawking, British physicist
CHAPTER 23
Aboard the Goliath
Rocky enters Gunnar’s stateroom. He is waiting for her as planned, naked beneath the blanket.
“Hey, sailor. Is there room in there for me?”
He smiles, holding open the blanket, beckoning her in.
Rocky unzips the Chinese jumpsuit, allowing it to fall down around her ankles. She climbs into bed, feeling the computer’s eyes upon her. “Darling, I’m freezing. Cover us up, would you?”
Gunnar complies, pulling the wool blanket up over both their heads—
—preventing the scarlet eyeball from reading their lips.
They grope beneath the covers, Rocky pressing her lips to Gunnar’s ear. “Were you able to speak with Sujan?”
“Yes,” he whispers back. “He still supports Covah, but I think he can be swayed. Chau has been missing for a few days, and the crew is getting paranoid. They’re going to confront Simon about it tonight.”
Rocky moans out loud, concealing Gunnar’s words from the stateroom’s sensor orb as she rolls on top of him. “We’re running out of time. We need to get off this ship and alert the Navy before the next missile is launched.”
“I thought about that. We can’t use the prototype without flooding the hangar, but the other minisubs are locked in their berths. Each Hammerhead is linked to Sorceress by way of a MEMS unit accessible beneath the sub’s control panel. Tear that unit out, and we should be able to power up the sub, which would automatically open its docking berth door.”
“There’s barely room inside those minisubs for one.”
“Which is why you’ll be the one who’s going to escape and get help.”
“But I’ve never piloted—”
“It’s easy. Foot pedals operate the propeller, joystick steers the craft, just like a jet fighter. Once you escape from the Goliath, you should be able to radio a message to Naval Intelligence. Right now, Sorceress is leading the Navy on a wild-goose chase. We need to get the YAL back in range before the Chinese deadline.”
Gunnar rolls over on top of her. He pushes her bangs away from her eyes, gazes into her hazel eyes … and kisses her.
She returns the kiss, then looks up at him, frightened. “They’ll kill you. The moment I escape—”
“Shh … I’ll be all right. Besides, I think maybe we’re destined to be together.”
“Maybe we’re just destined to die together.”
ATTENTION.
They pull back the covers, exposing themselves to the computer.
CEASE REPRODUCTIVE ACTIVITY. REPORT TO THE GALLEY AT ONCE.
Gunnar and Rocky enter the galley, the remaining five members of the crew already seated inside. Sujan Trevedi nods as they sit on the bench opposite the African Kaigbo, and the older Albanian physician, Tafili.
The two Kurd brothers enter from the kitchen. The older Arab, Jalal, looks over at Rocky—and blows her a kiss.
Gunnar flashes a look to kill.
David is the last to arrive. He takes his place at the head of the table. “Simon won’t be joining us tonight, he’s working late in the lab. In fact, it seems we have some tremendous news: Simon has found a treatment for his cancer.
Murmurs of excitement from the group.
“Fantastic,” Tafili says.
“The procedure will require some … invasive surgery. Sorceress is ready to proceed.”
“I want to be there with him,” Tafili insists.
“No,” David says. “Simon wants no visitors.”
“Someone needs to be with him,” Tafili says.
“I’ll be there. Everything’s already set. While Simon’s recuperating, I’ll be in command of the Goliath.” David’s expression turns dour. “Unfortunately, I also have some bad news to share with you. It’s so upsetting that I … well, I don’t know any other way to say it than to just blurt it out. Mr. Chau has been murdered.”
Gasps from the crew.
The Kurds turn toward Gunnar.
“No,” David says, “it wasn’t Gunnar, it was Taur Araujo. The attack took place in the engine room several days ago. Sorceress reports that Mr. Araujo had been drinking heavily when he confronted the engineer. An argument ensued, and quickly turned violent. Taur stabbed Mr. Chau in the throat, then hid the body under the water treatment equipment adjacent to reactor number three.”
“Where’s Taur now?” the older Kurd asks.
“Dead, from a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. Sorceress woke me an hour ago to inform me that Mr. Araujo had taken his own life. I found both bodies in the engine room. There is blood everywhere.”
Murmurs of disbelief.
“Show us the bodies,” Kaigbo insists.
“I can’t. The sight was too gruesome. I felt it best for morale’s sake just to allow Sorceress to dispose of both bodies.”
“David, how can we—”
“How can you what, Sujan? How can you believe me? You think this is something I’ve concocted? We have a witness, a witness incapable of lying.” David stands, glancing above his head at the scarlet eyeball. “Sorceress, inform the crew who murdered Thomas Chau.”
TAUR ARAUJO.
“Where are the bodies?”
THE BODIES OF THOMAS CHAU AND TAUR ARAUJO WERE EJECTED INTO THE SEA.
The African appears visibly upset. “Why didn’t your computer inform us about this earlier?”
“Sorceress has been programmed to run the ship. It was not programmed to interfere in squabbles among the crew. It does not understand the concept of murder. It’s a machine.”
“What happened in the Mediterranean?” the younger Kurd asks. “Why wouldn’t the computer obey orders?”
“The confusion was entirely Simon’s fault. Having sunk the Ronald Reagan, Sorceress assumed it had standing orders to attack and sink all aircraft carriers.” David paces slowly around the dining table. “All of you are upset, and so am I, so is Simon. He and Chau worked together for six years. Unfortunately, Thomas and Mr. Ali were not very … politically compatible.”
Sujan nods. “It’s true, they quarreled often. Thomas did not like the presence of a mercenary aboard the ship.”
“This is hard to believe,” Abdul Kaigbo says, shaking his head. “You should not have disposed of the bodies so quickly.”
“I did what I thought was best. If that answer doesn’t satisfy you, then inspect the engine room for yourself. Right now, we have more important things to talk about. As Sujan predicted, the Communists are still refusing to discuss Tibetan independence. Goliath will arrive at the maximum-range launch site at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. The Chinese have until noon of the following day to act.”
“The Chinese will wait until the last moment, then open dialogue with Tibet’s negotiators,” Sujan states. “Whatever is discussed will have no teeth, serving only to forestall our attack.”
“Simon is still planning on warning the residents of Quingdao?”
“Simon is not in charge, Abdul,” David says. “I am. To answer your question, warnings will be broadcast twelve hours prior to launch, just as we discussed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Simon needs me in the surgical suite.”
Aboard the USS Scranton
Michael Flynn closes his eyes, straining to hear the ghost of a whisper over his headphones. The sonar supervisor and the other technicians remain focused on the green BSY-1 monitors.
The supervisor watches the signal evaporate. “Flynnie, you getting anything?”
Flynn shakes his head in disgust. “Sorry, Supe. She’s gone.”
“Man’s mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions.”
—Oliver Wendell Holmes
“We’ve added another round to our bag of tricks … murder.”
—Harold Walter Bean, who murdered an eighty-one-year-old widow in order to receive an insurance payoff speaking to a friend
CHAPTER 24
14 November
Aboard the Goliath
The periphery of the surgical suite is dark, the room lit only by the banks of surgical lights blazing at the very center of the chamber.
“Sorceress, seal us in.”
The watertight door clanks shut and locks.
David approaches the operating table. Covah is standing next to the table, dressed in a surgical gown. “How do you feel?”
“Nervous. Excited. David, did I ever mention that I once tried to interface with the main frame at Cangen?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“They thought I was insane, but I had to try. There’s just so much to be learned—”
“And Sorceress will teach you. Now try to stay calm.”
“Of course. I feel the excitement an astronaut must feel on his first voyage into space. How is the crew?”
“Excited for you, very happy. And Mr. Chau finally showed up, drunk as a skunk.”
“I must speak to him.”
“No need, I’ve already handled it.”
Covah squeezes David’s hand. “Thank you. You’ve been a good friend.”
“And you will change history. Are you ready?”
“Yes. Sorceress, this is Simon Covah. I am transferring command of the ship to David Paniagua, authorization code Covah, delta-six-five-nine-ninealpha-zulu-ten.”
AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED.
“Sorceress, Simon is ready to proceed with the interface. Instruct him.”
LIE DOWN ON THE TABLE. SECURE YOUR HEAD IN THE SADDLE. PLACE YOUR ANKLES AND WRISTS IN THE RESTRAINERS TO PREVENT MOVEMENT DURING THE PROCEDURE.
As ordered, Covah lies down on the padded table so that the back of his neck rests in a U-shaped section of padding that rises past his jawline. The fit is snug. He slips his wrists and ankles into the leather straps attached along the sides and end of the table, then takes a deep breath.
Situated high above his head is a mirror, angled so that he can see his scalp. On a small table to his left is a large, flat glass container holding hundreds of microwires. At the end of each wire, soaking in a trophic solution, is a minuscule piece of tissue, taken from the roof of his mouth.
Covah cringes as Goliath’s two surgical appendages come to life, swooping down from the ceiling to tighten his bonds. Electrodes are secured to his chest.
PULSE RAPID. BLOOD PRESSURE AND RESPIRATORY RATE RISING.
“I’m just a bit excited. Sorceress, it would be helpful if you described each step of the procedure before performing it.”
ACKNOWLEDGED.
The steel arm on his left swivels above his head, the multitooled palm rotating, stopping at a large syringe.
IN ORDER TO ACCESS PARTS OF THE BRAIN RESPONSIBLE FOR REGULATING PROTEIN AND ENZYME RELEASE, IT WILL BE NECESSARY TO REMOVE THE UPPER PORTION OF THE SKULL.
“Understood.”
ADMINISTERING LOCAL ANESTHETIC TO THE SCALP.
David’s eyes widen as the syringe is repeatedly injected into Simon’s scalp.
Covah winces. “You’re not going to put me to sleep?”
IT IS MORE ADVANTAGEOUS TO KEEP YOU CONSCIOUS UNTIL THE NEURAL CONNECTIONS CAN BE POSITIONED AND CHECKED.
“Understood.” A scalpel flashes past his eyes, sending more adrenaline coursing through his gut.
BEGINNING INITIAL INCISION TO SEPARATE SCALP FROM THE SKULL.
“David?”
“Still here.” He squeezes Covah’s three-fingered hand.
Covah closes his eyes, his breathing becoming more erratic as he feels a moderate pressure above his forehead. Warm blood drips past his left temple into his good ear. “Sorceress, is it … is it really necessary to remove so much of my skull?”
AFFIRMATIVE. ONE-HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN NEURAL CONNECTIONS MUST BE INSERTED INTO BOTH HEMISPHERES OF THE BRAIN, TWENTY-THREE INTO THE CEREBELLUM, SEVEN INTO THE BRAIN STEM, SIX INTO THE PITUITARY GLAND, TWO INTO EACH PAIR OF THE TWELVE CRANIAL NERVES.
A set of forceps disappears beyond his range of sight. He gazes up at the mirror, watching in fascination and horror as the two robotic arms work furiously, slicing into his numb scalp.
RETRACTING SCALP.
Covah feels a tingling and pulling sensation as a retractor-shaped pair of steel pincers peels his scalp away from his forehead and over his crown, exposing the bones of his skull.
A small hose appears. A warm liquid washes the blood from the bone, the refuse collecting in a pan behind his neck.
He looks up at his reflection in the mirror, unnerved by the sight of his exposed skull. A tiny drill bit whirrs above his head. He closes his eyes.
DRILLING HOLES INTO FRONTAL AND PARIETAL BONES.
David’s heart pounds as he watches the drill bit push against Covah’s skull, sending intense chills through his body as it chews quickly through the bone.
REMOVING FRONTAL AND PARIETAL PLATES.
Covah opens his eyes, breathing heavily. Gazing up at the mirror, he sees the three robotic fingers of a clawed hand slip into the freshly drilled holes and lift away the two sections of bone plate covering his forehead and crown in the manner one might lift a bowling ball.
REMOVING DURA MATER. BLOOD PRESSURE AND HEART RATE NOMINAL.
Cerebrospinal f
luid gushes down the sides of his head and the back of his neck. He shudders as he stares at the overhead mirror, gazing at the folds, bumps, blood vessels, and deep fissures of his brain.
“Incredible,” David whispers.
BEGINNING IMPLANTATION OF NEURAL CONNECTIONS.
Covah closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax. Minutes later, the gentle knitting sound of whirring steel pincers soothes him to sleep.
10 November
Tiananmen Square Beijing, China
The sun peeks through an overcast gray sky, reflecting off dark gunmetal tanks lined up in rows along the perimeter of Tiananmen Square. The sound of crimson flags flapping against a cold winter’s breeze greets the tens of thousands of Chinese soldiers goose-stepping through the streets of Beijing. Tanks and mobile missile launchers flank the troops on both sides. The showcase of military might moves as one into Tiananmen Square, the dominating presence of the People’s Liberation Army ensuring the president’s speech will be well received.
President Li Peng buttons the collar of his overcoat as he proceeds to the open-air podium facing the largest public square in the world. Seated in the lower-level balcony are members of the Chinese Communist Party, the National People’s Congress, and the State Council. To Li Peng’s immediate left is the vice president and the State Council Premier; to his right, his four vice premiers. Directly behind him are two dozen members of the Politburo’s Standing Committee and his predecessor, former president Jiang Zemin.