The crowd packing the outskirts of the square scatters, the crazed citizens of the People’s Republic trampling over one another as they attempt to outrun death.
00:00:59
President Li Peng stares at the surreal scene playing out before him. In the bleachers to his right, party officials are yelling and pushing each other toward the clogged exit ways. Several fights break out, blows exchanged, one enraged politico clawing at the faces of his rivals.
00:00:12 …
LOOK TO THE HEAVENS. CAN YOU HEAR IT?
A hush falls over the panicked crowd as the omnipotent voice echoes across the square.
IT IS THE WRATH OF GOD.
00:00:01 …
A flash of blinding white-hot light—
The 100-million-degree nuclear fireball expands outward at supersonic speeds, vaporizing every person and object within Tiananmen Square in the blink of an eye. A second later, an even greater burst of light illuminates Beijing as the shock wave detaches from the cooling fireball, fleeing it, creating a sharp, severe increase in air pressure that flattens and incinerates the Chinese capital before sucking back in upon itself, over the now-blackened landscape.
Aboard Goliath
Stunned looks, the big screen now blank.
Sujan Trevedi drops to his knees, fighting to catch a breath.
Gunnar looks up at the scarlet sensor orb, his voice weak. “Sorceress, what have you done?”
David’s face appears on screen. “Not Sorceress, just me. The Chinese had no intention of complying with the terms of the Declaration of Humanity.”
Sujan looks up at the blank overhead screen, his limbs trembling. “Beijing was not one of our targets.”
“Come on, Sujan, don’t waste crocodile tears on these bastards. I assure you, the future leaders of China’s democracy were not in attendance.”
“That is beside the point! You murdered innocent people.”
“I took out China’s Communist regime, paving the way for freedom. Jesus, Sujan, what’s with you? Think back to everything you told me, about how these assholes tortured you, how they murdered your sister and beat you into pulp—”
“David, Tibetans do not believe in your ‘eye for an eye’ philosophy.”
“Maybe not, but I promise you, China will be evacuating your homeland posthaste. As for the rest of you, you’d better decide if you’re really committed to this mission, because if you’re not, Simon and I don’t need you.”
Covah moans in the background.
“Gotta run.”
The image disappears.
Sujan grabs his head, struggling to grasp what has happened. “This is wrong. This is not why I joined the movement. This is not justice, this is murder.”
MURDER.
They look up at the glowing sensor orb, startled.
MURDER: TO WRONGLY TAKE LIFE. MURDER IS A HUMAN CONDITION. HATE. MALICE. ANIMOSITY. ANGER. FEAR. HUMILIATION. DECEIT. THE HUMAN CONDITION IS INFECTED. THE HUMANE GENOME MUST MUTATE. UTOPIA-ONE MUST BE REEVALUATED.
Reevaluated? Gunnar stares at the scarlet eyeball, his thoughts suffocating. “Sorceress, what are you doing to Simon?”
No response.
“Sorceress, respond. What are you doing with Simon Covah?”
The scarlet orb glows, its silence—deafening.
Aboard the USS Scranton
“Conn, radio. NORAD has pinpointed the launch site of that SLBM. Northern Indian Ocean, course, zero-three-zero, range, two hundred and sixty-three miles.”
“Very well. Officer of the Deck, plot an intercept course. All ahead full.”
“Aye, sir. Coming to course zero-three-zero, all ahead full.”
Aboard the Goliath
Rocky follows Gunnar into the crew’s workout room. “You’re not working out?”
“Just wanted a quick steam. Why don’t you join me?” Passing the rows of machines, they head for the bathroom. Avoiding the temptation to look up at the scarlet eyeball, they quickly strip, wrap themselves in towels, and enter the steam room.
Sujan Trevedi and the African, Kaigbo, are already inside, their bodies glistening with perspiration. Both steamers have been running for several minutes, the humidity fogging up the glass doors—preventing the camera lens mounted in the bathroom outside the steam bath from seeing in.
Gunnar sits opposite the lanky African, who has removed his prosthetic arms prior to entering the bath. Through the mist, he can make out the two bulbous stubs of flesh at the ends of Kaigbo’s elbows.
Sujan presses a finger to his lips, then points to a small microphone fastened to the ceiling tile. “I asked Abdul to join us. I believe he can offer a different perspective on the things you experienced in Africa.”
Kaigbo leans forward, his jaundiced eyes staring at Gunnar, the sweat pouring down his face. “You’re a soldier, trained to kill. I do not say you like to kill, only that you have been trained to do the deed when called upon. I think most humans despise violence, but I also know there are a minority of others who thrive upon it. I am not talking now of religious zealots, whose warped interpretation of the Koran gives them license to murder. I am speaking now of paramilitary warriors to whom killing has become a livelihood. Civil wars and revolutions are driven by these men. They do not play by the soldier’s rules. They could care less about society’s laws of restraint. Most grew up on the streets, poor and uneducated. For them, warfare and crime yield spoils and a sense of dignity society could never offer. They have no stake in peace. If peace is reached, they move on to fight another battle, leaving behind entire generations of children too violent to absorb back into society.”
“Human life means nothing to these sadists,” Sujan adds. “They tortured and killed a third of my people. They wiped out a half million of Rwanda’s Tutsis, and enjoyed every minute of it.”
“The killing intoxicates them,” Abdul agrees. “Seen it with me own eyes.”
Gunnar nods. “The only way to deal with these assholes is to hunt them down with superior numbers, something my government refuses to do. Instead, they send a handful of soldiers like me to win a few points with foreign governments, who, in most cases, are just as violent as the rebels. It’s a no-win situation.”
“But you’re haunted by your own actions,” Sujan says. “You’re consumed with guilt over having killed those children.”
Rocky notices Gunnar’s hands are trembling.
“Look, I know what you’re trying to do, but I can’t … I just can’t let it go. I should have fired in the air … chased them off—”
Rocky touches his forearm. “You responded the way the Army trained you to respond. You have to stop blaming yourself.”
“She is correct,” Kaigbo says. “I lost my entire family to those butchers. They mutilated me and stole my children. They left me with an anger no man should feel. Still, if it was my boy you had killed, I would not be angry with you. Do you understand what I am saying? You see, I know in my heart you are not a murderer. You are a victim … like my children, like all of us. Perhaps you will never forgive yourself, but as a father, I forgive you.”
Gunnar swallows hard.
Kaigbo whispers. “But there is new blood on all of our hands, and much more will follow. Now I charge you with helping us prevent any more of this senseless violence. It is time to stop being a victim. It is time to take action.”