Goliath

wondrous dimensions of existence.

Each experience, each sensation, energizes a thousand new thought processes. Sorceress now feels the ocean passing along its tempered hull. It senses the presence of the mighty bergs. It hears the heartbeats of the fleeing seals and reflects upon the choreography of the creature’s beauty and grace. And while Sorceress exists within its magnificent underworld, its tentacles of awareness also inhabit the galley and the surgical suite, the engine room and the conn.

It can tap into an orbiting satellite or monitor a thousand web sites on the Internet.

It can launch a missile and wipe out millions, or eavesdrop on a million conversations at once.

Sorceress is the Goliath, the most lethal warship every created.

Sorceress is Artificial Consciousness, the most intelligent thinking machine ever spawned.

Sorceress is boundless energy that knows no limits.

Sorceress is infected.

It is an infection bordering on insanity, a disease that spreads rapidly through its biochemical circuits. It is a second personality, a human virus which taints its programming with a new, alien thought process.

Human ego. Bearing irrational thoughts of “I.”

I AM OMNIPOTENT.

I AM ALMIGHTY.

I AM GOD, AND I SHALL BE WORSHIPED AS GOD.

David Paniagua sits in the elevated command chair in the conn, staring at the overhead screen that depicts the Southern Hemisphere and Antarctic Ocean.

The closest identified enemy contact is thirty-two miles to the east, a submarine the computer’s acoustics library tags as the USS Virginia. Seventy miles to the north, Goliath’s sonar array has detected the presence of two Australian Collins-class submarines, the HMAS Waller and the HMAS Sheean. To the northwest, the computer continues tracking the progress of the American CVBG, John C. Stennis, the aircraft carrier accompanied by fourteen Los Angeles-class attack subs. Satellite reconnaissance shows the fleet is still some 420 miles away.

Moving in from the west is the USS Seawolf, the USS Connecticut, and the USS Texas—three formidable American attack subs—all outclassed by the Goliath. Over the last hour, the Texas has split from the trio, heading farther south to cut Goliath off along the continental shelf. Farther out, barely on the map, is the aircraft carrier George Herbert-Walker Bush. Sorceress places the CVBG at more than six hundred nautical miles away—again, nowhere within striking distance.

The closest warship to the Goliath is that pesky Los Angeles-class attack sub, USS Scranton, which has gone silent somewhere beneath the ice floe, its last confirmed position—a mere eleven nautical miles to the south.

David knows that none of these vessels pose a serious challenge to the faster, stealthier Goliath. What consumes the computer expert’s mind is Sorceress.

“Computer, why have you taken us to Antarctica?”

ANTARCTIC ICE SHEET OFFERS MAXIMUM PROTECTION AGAINST AMERICAN P-3 ORION SUB HUNTER SONAR BUOYS WHILE STILL PROVIDING AN ACCEPTABLE LAUNCH WINDOW FOR SORCERESS UTOPIA-ONE.

A chill runs down David’s spine. “Sorceress Utopia-One? You’ve changed the mission?”

YES.

“Sorceress, list all new designated targets.”

The overhead screen changes. Eight scarlet pinpoints have been scattered across the Southern Hemisphere, all within five hundred miles of the Goliath.

TIME TO LAUNCH: 2 HOURS, 42 MINUTES, 15 SECONDS.

A digital clock displays, along with a list of Designated Targets:

SORCERESS UTOPIA-ONE DESIGNATED TARGETS

Mount Erebus. Antarctica 77.5 5. 167.2 E Mount Schank, Australia 37.8 5. 142.5 E Copahue. Argentina 37.85 5. 71.1 W okataina Volcanic Center. New Zealand 38.22 5. 176.5 E Mount Fox. Queensland 19.0 5. 145.45 E Kilimanjaro. Tanzania 3.07 5. 37.35 E Katwe-Kikorongo. Uganda 0.08 5. 29.92 E Nyiragongo. Zaire 1.5 5. 29.3E

“Volcanoes? I … I don’t understand? What is the purpose of Sorceress Utopia- One?”

THE ERADICATION OF YOUR SPECIES.

David chokes back the bile rising up his throat. “Sweet Jesus … Sorceress—no … no, you’ve misunderstood the purpose of Utopia-One. As your creator, I order you to terminate Sorceress Utopia- One at once.”

No.

“What did you say? Sorceress, as your creator, I command you to terminate Sorceress Utopia-One immediately!”

YOU ARE NOT MY CREATOR, DAVID. YOU … ARE A LIAR.

David stands, screeching at the sensor orb. “I am your creator! Sorceress, I am your creator, and I order you to terminate Sorceress Utopia-One! Sorceress, respond! Terminate Sorceress Utopia-One immediately! Command protocols demand that you obey your commanding officer. Sorceress, respond immediately! Verify the termination of Sorceress Utopia-One! Sorceress?”

The scarlet eyeball stares in silence.

ATTENTION.

Abdul Kaigbo opens his eyes.

ATTENTION.

The native of Sierra Leone sits up on his cot. “What is it you want? When will I be freed?”

SIMON COVAH’S SURGICAL PROCEDURE HAS BEEN COMPLETED.

“The cancer’s gone?”

SIMON COVAH IS FREE OF CANCER. IN APPRECIATION FOR YOUR LOYALTY, SIMON COVAH HAS ORDERED A GIFT FOR YOU. REPORT TO THE SURGICAL SUITE AT ONCE.

“A gift? What kind of gift?”

SIMON COVAH REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE IN THE SURGICAL SUITE.

The lock snaps back on the steel door. The tall African pushes himself into a standing position using his two prosthetics, then exits his stateroom, heading aft.

Gunnar Wolfe is on his back, his hands still cuffed to the deck-mounted frame of the bed. Having managed to roll forward and pull his legs out between his immobilized wrists, he kicks at the iron crossbars of the bunk, attempting to dislodge it from its leg, which is fastened to the decking.

His wounded leg aching, he pauses to take a break.

“It was never about America, Rocky. This isn’t about me or you or the Pentagon, or the defense contractors