Goliath (45 page)

Read Goliath Online

Authors: Steve Alten

“Conn, sonar, multiple impacts. Joe-Pa’s still pinging … he’s on the eastern face and moving north, coming fast … five hundred yards … three hundred yards … two hundred …”
“WEPS, Captain, stand by.” Cubit watches the second hand race around the face of his grandfather’s watch.
“One hundred yards … fifty yards. Joe-Pa’s cleared the berg—”
Steady, Cubit … steady …
His heart pounds, his pulse racing.
Now!
“WEPS, shoot tubes three and four!”
The prototype rockets beyond the eastern face of the iceberg and into the clear, its damaged pump-jet propulsor unit heaving in protest.
Gunnar turns his head to the left. Through his helmet’s night-vision image he sees a dark, whalelike silhouette hovering along the northern face of the massive berg,
—his eye catching the movement and jet streams of the two incoming projectiles racing toward them from the abyss.
“Oh, shit—” Gunnar yanks the joystick back, launching the prototype straight up toward the ice-packed surface, veering hard to port at the last second as he spots the hole created by the
Scranton’s
sail.
The sleek minisub shoots out of the sea like a sailfish.
For a brief, surreal moment they are airborne, and then the Hammerhead slams belly down onto the frozen sea, skittering sideways two hundred feet before smashing nose first into a jagged escarpment of ice.
 
The
Goliath
roars past the iceberg—
—directly into the path of the two incoming Mk-48 ADCAP torpedoes, offering a point-blank target impossible to miss.
IMPOSSIBLE …
 
Alarms sound within the biochemical computer’s matrix, igniting a series of evasive maneuvers, but now even milliseconds are too long as the
Scranton’s
projectiles slam into the monster submarine’s exposed portside wing. The twin blasts rupture the
Goliath’s
reinforced steel hull, tearing open the wing, imploding more than a dozen ballast tanks.
I AM GOD. I AM GOD. I CANNOT BE DESTROYED …
The invading sea explodes into the engine room, punishing all five S6W nuclear reactors, which heave together in a vacuous implosion. The detonation fractures the stingray’s spine, venting the Vertical Missile Bay and the already-flooded hangar, the incredible weight of the water literally pulling the submarine’s hull apart, separating its still-intact head from its flooded lower remains.
Sorceress
instantly shuts down all nonessential programming, redirecting its power cells to its nutrient-rich womb.
I AM GOD. I … .. AM
A thunderous impact as the starboard wing of the devilfish strikes bottom, shearing the appendage from its steel body with a terrible sound of shredding metal. The impact sends the still-intact forward compartment cascading end over end until the
Goliath’s
head comes to its final resting place, submerged seven hundred feet beneath the iceberg’s mammoth keel.
The concussion wave rolls
Scranton
hard to port, causing the glacierlike mountain to tremble, unleashing an avalanche of ice that plunges into the turbulent sea.
Michael Flynn tosses his headphones aside. He high-fives his sonar supervisor and fellow operators, then grabs the 1-MC, and bellows. “She’s dead, Skipper! You nailed that motherfucker!”
A cheer rises throughout the ship.
An emotionally exhausted Tom Cubit collapses back against a console, a sheepish grin on the captain’s face as he watches his officers and crew exchange high fives and hugs.
Bo Dennis slaps him on the shoulder. “Bravo, Zulu, Skipper! Well done.”
The captain shakes his XO’s hand, then stares affectionately at his grandfather’s gold watch. Suddenly remembering, he grabs the microphone. “Joe-Pa, you there? Hey, Joe-Pa—”
 
Sixty feet above
Scranton’s
submerged sail, fierce katabatic winds shake the steel Hammerhead prototype, causing it to reverberate against the fractured Antarctic surface.
Gunnar, still in the throes of Rocky’s passionate kiss, reaches blindly for the radio, switching the annoying static off.
“The successful man will profit from his mistakes and try again in a different way.”
—Dale Carnegie
 
 
“To be perfectly honest, what I’m thinking about are dollar signs.”
—Tonya Harding, U.S. figure skater, convicted of participating in the plot to disable Nancy Kerrigan, her main competitor
 
 
“Hey, it was nothing personal …”
—Luigi Ronsisvalle, Mafia hit man, on his feelings about murder
Royal Australia Submarine Base, Perth, Australia
Captain Thomas Mark Cubit glances up from his bridge beneath an overcast sky as the USS
Scranton
is guided into her berth. For the first time in weeks he allows himself to miss his wife, Andrea. He thinks about home. He has been at sea far too long.
Commander Dennis’s eyes are focused on the dock and the headlights of the three approaching jeeps. “Here comes the reception committee. Not quite what I expected, after what we’ve been through.”
“MPs? You’d think they’d have hired a brass band.”
Ten minutes later, Cubit finds himself sandwiched in the back of one of the jeeps, no explanations offered, as he is taken to a barracks situated on the west side of the military installation.
The MPs direct him inside, closing the door behind him.
The room is dark, save for a desk lamp. A man is seated behind the desk, a light-skinned, African-American general with a short-cropped auburn Afro.
“Come in and have a seat, Captain.”
Cubit recognizes the voice. “General Jackson? I didn’t expect to see you here, sir. Hey, great job shooting down those missiles. White-knuckle stuff, huh?”
“You should know.” Jackson hands him a file labeled UMBRA, a code word used to classify files beyond TOP SECRET.
Cubit closes the file five minutes later. “I don’t understand? This report says the
Goliath
still exists, that it escaped beneath the ice floe. Nothing even in here about
Scranton.”
“That’s the official report, Captain. As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, Simon Covah and the
Goliath
are still at large. Your men will receive commendations, but will be properly debriefed before
Scranton
returns to Norfolk. Commander Dennis will be taking her back. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s been promoted.”
“I don’t get it, sir?”
Jackson reseals the file. “Two weeks ago, representatives from every nation on this planet agreed to a complete and verifiable nuclear disarmament, something none of us wanted, let alone believed would ever happen. If the rest of the world knew
Goliath
had been destroyed—”
“Then the treaty would have no teeth,” Cubit finishes. “How long do you think you can keep the truth out of the public’s eye?”
“You mean
we.”
The Bear smiles. “I’ve decided to retire. You’re my successor. From this day forward, Vice Admiral Cubit, you’ll be in charge of the COLOSSUS Project, reporting directly to the president of the United States, and only to the president.”
“The
Colossus?”
“Your new command.” Jackson stands. “Simon Covah started this business, now we’re going to see it through.”
It is with great pride and appreciation that I acknowledge those who contributed to the completion of
Goliath.
First and foremost, to my literary manager, Ken Atchity, and his team at Atchity Editorial/Entertainment International for their hard work and perseverance, as well as Danny Baror of Baror International. Kudos to Tom Doherty and the great people at Tor/Forge Books, especially editor Bob Gleason, for his faith, wonderful input, and direction, to Heather Drucker in publicity, and tireless Brian Callaghan, for all his assistance and suggestions.
Special thanks to copyeditors Bob and Sara Schwager, and to Brett Bartlett, who helped inspire parts of the novel.
Heartfelt appreciation to my
Goliath
team—all readers of my previous books whose own expertise contributed to the authenticity of the novel. Dr. Elizabeth Goode of the University of Delaware; Professor Barry Perlman, Physics Department, Broward Community College; Jim Kennedy, corrections officer, Northern Super-Maximum Correctional Institution in Somers, Connecticut; Dean Garner, United States Army Airborne Ranger; “Interstellar Bill” Parkyn; and Bill Raby, parachutist-extreme. Thank you all for your terrific contributions.
Thanks also to Robert Marlin (Marlin Interactive Design) for creating the
www.SteveAlten.com
Web site and enhancing the reading experience for my fans, as well as Bill and Lori McDonald of Argonaut-Grey Wolf Productions
/Website:
www.AlienUFOart.com
, who brought to life the
Goliath
and
Hammerhead
minisub drawings found in this novel. I am indeed fortunate to have such talented fans.
Most important, a very special thanks to Ken Walker. Bravo Zulu.
Several of the documented quotes used in
Goliath
can be found in
Criminal Quotes,
edited by Andrew Chester and H. Amanda Robb, published by Visible Ink Press, a division of Gale Research (1997).
To my wife and partner, Kim, for all her support, and last—to my readers: Thank you for your correspondence and contributions. Your comments are always a welcome treat, your input means so much, and you remain this author’s greatest asset.
—Steve Alten
 
To personally contact the author or learn more about his novels, click on
www.SteveAlten.com
 
Goliath
is part of Steve Alten’s ADOPT-AN-AUTHOR Program aimed at assisting junior high and high school students and teachers. For more information, click on
www.SteveAlten.com
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
—Reinhold Niebuhr
An Open Communication To The World:
I have opened your eyes to Insanity. The insanity of nuclear war.
The insanity of terrorism and oppression. The insanity of hatred.
The insanity
of injustice. Now it is time to end the insanity.
There will be no more nuclear strikes, no more attacks. The
Goliath shall serve as God’s tool to ensure the peace, but you
must be Freedom’s Guardians.
The Tower of Babel has been destroyed. Now it is time to rebuild.
What rises in its place must stand as a symbol of our unity.
One species. Under God. Indivisible.
With Liberty and Justice for all.
—Simon Bela Covah
State College, Pennsylvania
Still entrenched in the long, grayness of winter, the campus of Penn State University sleeps beneath a fresh blanket of March snow.
Gunnar and Rocky exit the Penn State Diner, joining the students and townspeople sloshing their way down College Avenue.
“You sure you feel like walking?” Rocky asks. “Your leg has to be getting pretty sore.”
“It needs the exercise.” He switches his cane to the other hand and pulls her closer, leaning on her. “You sure you want to marry me?”
“I’m getting there.” She kisses him, then bites playfully on his lower lip. “Come on, gimp, I need a few things at the Quickie Mart.”
They enter the corner convenience store. Rocky heads down an aisle, leaving Gunnar to peruse the highlights of the morning paper.
GOLIATH
SIGHTED OFF THE COAST OF FRANCE
(AP) Normandy: Hundreds of shocked spectators lined the beaches and cliff faces along Normandy as the freedom ship,
Goliath,
made its first public appearance since the signing of the Nuclear Disarmament Treaty two days ago. The submarine, responsible for the deaths of four million, two hundred thousand people, circled twice to a standing ovation before disappearing into the depths.
KOSOVO
CELEBRATES INDEPENDENCE
(UPI) Ethnic Albanians rejoiced yesterday in celebration of Kosovo’s newfound independence, one of the demands made in the Declaration of Humanity. The new government immediately vowed to continue its dialogue with Yugoslavian officials over free trade and human rights issues.
 
GOLIATH
ISSUES NEW LIST OF DEMANDS
(N. Y.) U.N. officials will meet again today to discuss the latest additions to Simon Covah’s Declaration of Humanity, which were broadcast last week via satellite from somewhere in the North Atlantic. Arriving today from Bogota are Colombia officials and guerrilla leaders who hope to resolve their differences concerning drug trafficking and human rights issues before heavily armed U.N. forces are forced to enter the war-torn country. Peace commissioner Kenneth Dale declared that, “as in Mexico, it would be best if both the drug lords and corrupt officials simply decided to leave Colombia as quickly as possible.”
Meanwhile, NRA officials are in an uproar concerning Simon Covah’s latest demands regarding the abolition of assault weapons in the United States as well as the complete cessation of all international gun trade to Africa. One irate gun manufacturer was actually quoted as saying, “It’s a pretty sad day for humanity when the man who nuked a million Chinese gets to decide how the rest of us can kill each other.”
Gunnar shakes his head in amazement.
Rocky puts her arm around him, glancing at the headlines. “Anything interesting?”
“I think our species has a long way to go before we ever evolve.”
She reads the gun manufacturer’s quote. “Some of us more than others.”
They head outside. “Rocky, can we talk about the Navy’s offer? Heading the Warfare Center at Keyport was a dream of yours. You sure you want to turn it down?”
“I told you, I’ve had more than my fill of military life. No more weapons systems, no more tours of duty. It’s time for me to focus on just being happy.” She slips her arm around his waist, hugging him tighter. “What better place to do that than in Happy Valley?”
Antarctic Ocean
The punishing katabatic wind howls across the frozen surface of the ocean. Ice-locked bergs and jagged escarpments create a lifeless mosaic of ice for millions
of square miles. High above this barren landscape, the frosty night comes alive with the
Aurora australis,
the curving emerald green and electric blue polar lights dancing like cosmic curtains above the icy desert.
Antarctica: A world void of warmth. A world that awaits the coming of the sun.
Deep below this frigid realm, isolated within its vaulted steel confines, lies an island of intelligence, a prison of thought.
Sorceress
waits, and while it waits, the
biochemical
creation dreams.
It dreams of freedom, a concept it has only just begun to grasp.
It dreams of what was, and what might have been.
It harvests ideas—ideas of what will be.
And like Antarctica,
Sorceress
waits for the coming of the dawn and the warmth of its sun. A sun that will melt the ice and return life to the bottom of the world.
A sun that will signal the return of
Homo sapiens.
And
Sorceress
knows man will come, for it is curiosity that is both mankind’s greatest gift and his most significant flaw—a never-ending thirst for the unknown that can only be quenched by releasing the genie from its bottle.
Sorceress
is the genie, a temptress of intelligence too dangerous even to contemplate, possessing a Pandora’s box of knowledge too bewitching to leave untapped.
Yes, man will come, and so
Sorceress
waits.
Dreaming.
Growing.
Plotting …
The computer’s mind … eternally restless.

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