The only thing young David lacked in his life was respect, the kind of respect that comes from wielding true power. “Junior” learned early on that he would always remain in his famous father’s shadow, his own hard-earned accomplishments passed off as nepotism, his fellow workers always treating him like the CEO’s son. It was something that infuriated the computer whiz kid, but he swallowed his pride, biding his time.
Upon graduation, David’s father placed him in charge of a new molecular nanotechnology division at AMC, one that would work (in an unofficial capacity) with DARPA (the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency), the central research and development agency for the Department of Defense (DoD). To his delight, David learned he would be working under Dr. Elizabeth Goode, the “mother” of nanotechnology. It was the break he had been hoping for.
The future promises of molecular nanotechnology (MNT) were alluring. With MNT, scientists could precisely manipulate and control matter at the atomic level. Potential benefits came from the precision of atom-by-atom construction. Using MNT, metallic structures could be manufactured devoid of micro imperfections, dramatically increasing strength. Microscopic machines (microbots) could be programmed to replicate, producing larger structures or achieving a desired group effect. Bacterium-sized nanobots could harvest a wealth of benefits, enabling physicians to perform precise interventions at the cellular level. Nanomedical devices could be designed to diagnose and cure viral infections, destroy cancerous tumors, repair limbs and organs, reverse neural damage, and eventually alter God’s own reference manual—the human genome.
DARPA’s interest, of course, was focused on building stronger, faster, and more powerful weapons systems. Nanotechnology opened doors to creating complex computers billions of times faster than today’s most advanced machines. America’s Armed Forces, still at the top of the class, could not afford to be left behind.
Unbeknownst to Dr. Goode, her foundation was primarily funded by DARPA, its research money channeled indirectly through bogus trusts and smaller companies like AMC. As brilliant as she was, the goddess of the new biochemical highway still had to answer to her board of directors and their agenda. When Goode announced her completion of schematics for Sorceress, the world’s first biochemical nanocomputer, the United States government, as trustees, demanded access.
Dr. Goode accepted her fate, proceeding under the false premise that Sorceress was being targeted for NASA’s Mars project. She envisioned a new rover, built to explore the Red Planet’s surface, operated by her self-evolving biochemical computer. Programmed to learn and grow, the computer would provide invaluable insight, leading to the eventual terraforming of Mars.
The DoD had other plans.
The escalating turmoil in the Middle East and OPEC’s unending oil-price increases were jeopardizing the already-sluggish American economy. Iran had the bomb, and their newly formed alliance with Iraq threatened further instability and a dangerous hegemony in the region. Saddam was buying Russianmade weapons as if the former Soviet Union were having a yard sale. If war was imminent, then the United States needed a new kind of firepower—one that didn’t rely on negotiating with foreign powers to refuel its fleets in dangerous port cities or fly over restricted airspace. One that was invulnerable to attack when approaching hostile coastlines and the enemy’s newest guided missiles.
In other words, America required a vessel that could enter the Strait of Hormuz and operate within the Gulf of Oman without being detected.
The solution: the Goliath, a weapons platform as stealthy as it was lethal, operated by a computer system void of emotion.
When Dr. Goode learned of the government’s plans, she immediately resigned.
Her replacement: David Henry Paniagua, Jr.
“Yes, Mr. President, I understand.” Thomas Gray Ayers hangs up, massaging his eyes.
Gunnar, Rocky, David Paniagua, and General Jackson are seated around the small conference table, waiting for the Secretary of the Navy to compose himself.
“The attack on the Russian Typhoon forces the president to come forward about the destruction of our carrier group. There’ll be a news conference at 2 P.M. Eastern, at which time the public will learn about the Goliath. The president wants to be able to say NUWC is working on a solution to end this crisis.” Ayers’s gaze focuses directly on David. “Seems you were right about Covah stealing nukes. What about the rest of your plan? Will Colossus be ready?”
“Colossus?” Rocky’s heart pounds, her blood boiling in anger. She turns to her father. “You built the Goliath-II without me?”
The Bear shoots her a look of warning. “Not now, Commander.”
“It’s not the same ship,” David says. “Without Sorceress, we had to reconfigure the interior spaces to accommodate a crew of three hundred officers and men. While she’s not automated, she’s still fast and stealthy, and she’s better armed than the Goliath.”
Rocky bites her lip.
“You still have to find her to engage her,” Gunnar states.
“We don’t have to find her,” the general states, “she’ll find us. We know Covah’s arming himself with nukes. The president has recalled all vessels carrying nuclear warheads, and the U.N. Secretary-General is requesting all other nuclear powers to do the same. Only the HMS Vengeance will put to sea with SLBMs, a situation we can blame on recent public protests at Faslane Naval Base. Covah will go after the British sub, and we’ll be trailing him in the Colossus.”
Gunnar shakes his head. “I don’t care how heavily Colossus is armed. If Sorceress is on board the Goliath, then your sub has no chance in combat against her.”
“I agree,” Rocky says.
David grins. “That’s the beauty of the plan. We’re not going to attack the Goliath, we’re going to commandeer her. I’ve created a virus that can be downloaded using the acoustical array on board Gunnar’s minisub prototype. All Gunnar has to do is pilot the Hammerhead to within two-hundred yards of the Goliath and I’ll do the rest. The virus will allow me to temporarily shut down the Goliath’s engines and flood the hangar bay, giving our minisub enough time to board the ship. The flooded chamber will also isolate us from Covah and his men. Once inside, we’ll drain the hangar and download this into the nearest terminal.” David holds up a CD. “This override program will give us total control of the ship. We’ll dock her at the nearest U.S. port, and Covah will never know what hit him.”
“And what if your virus fails to take control of the Goliath,” asks Secretary Ayers.
“An underwater mine would do the job,” Gunnar says, turning to the Bear. “I can rig a plutonium 239 implosion mine. Pack it with about five pounds of plutonium, surrounded by twenty-five pounds of C-4 and a conventional detonator.” He looks at Secretary Ayers. “In essence, we’re talking about a backpack nuke—big blast, lots of heat and radiation, but everything confined, so there won’t be too much environmental damage. The surface of the mine is magnetic. Once we attach the mine to the Goliath’s hull and pull away, the internal fuses become active. That’ll gives us about five minutes to hightail it outta there.”