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
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.
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.
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.
“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,
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.
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?”
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
“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!
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—
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
A 20-mm explosive air-bursting round greets the mechanical embrace, turning the computer’s mechanical hand into hot fragments of steel.
Gunnar fires another round at the shoulder girdle, blasting it into a smoldering heap of molten metal and flaming circuits.
The remaining robotic arm cowers back.
Gunnar staggers to his feet, wheezing a shallow breath. He aims the OICW machine gun—
—the sudden grunt at his back startling him. Gunnar spins around.
The automatic weapon is quivering in Abdul Kaigbo’s mechanical arms.
KILL GUNNAR WOLFE NOW.
“Nnn … no—” The African’s face contorts in agony, a frothy, white spittle oozing from his lips. He squeezes his eyes shut, blood dripping from his nostrils, then shoves the gun into his mouth and fires.
Blood, brains, and bone fragments explode out the back of the African’s head.
