Julia''s chaffeur picked up Sean in the unearthly hours between midnight and dawn. Today Sean would be remotely monitoring the Doomtrooper demo in the Caucascus located eight hours ahead of EST. Asking Kaitlyn''s mom for a ride today was out of the question. When he''d enquiredinto Zero Sum''s reimbursement policy on Uber rides, Julia had waved dismissively and sent her car instead.The Bentley Continental GT inexorably ate up the miles to New Haven. There was little traffic at this time. Sean stared out withsleep-deprived eyesat the slumbering suburbs flashing by, feeling uneasy.
No matter how the demo went today, it wasn''t his problem. He was just an unpaid highschool intern for a week. No one could seriously expect him to be responsible for weaponscontracts, right? All he had to do was watch through the drone''s eyes from thousands of miles away, safely ensconced in a bunker in urban New Haven. But Dawn didn''t have the luxury of safety at the edge of a conflictzone. Sean shook his head. His tendency to obsessover prettywomen was a liability.
”Almost there, sir,” Sean blinked groggily assomeone shoved on his shoulder. The woman at the wheel -Sean appreciated that sheseemed extremelyfit - was rigorously wipingher jacket with tissue. Did she really have toglare at him so disdainfully? So what if he didn''t look his best, he was still half asleep for pity''s sake. Ohhh...hadhe dozed off and drooled on her uniform? Never mind.
The car swept past Zero Sum’s darkened glass facade and turned into a side alley. An overhead sign bearing the institute’s logo proclaimed “Shipping and Receiving : Unauthorized Vehicles Will Be Immobilized” below which a winding ramp sloped down from street level. The driver keyed in a combination on the dash. Theforbiddingspikes spanning the ramp entrance retracted into the pavemement and the car glided into the bowels of Zero Sum. Themassive steel porticullis at the bottom of the ramp grated open and they entered a circular loading dock with automated gun turrets in the ceiling that tracked their car. Julia''s obsession with security was almost amusing. But Sean couldn''t bring himself to laugh. His broken arm was evidence enough ofpotentialdownsides of a security breach. The car stopped at a guard post dug into the concrete wall. The hardenedveteran who was expecting them studiedSean''s face against a handheld.There wasan identical garage dooracross the rotunda - large enough to admit a semitruck - leading to the munitions basement that Sean was waved into.Julia''s chaffeur turned around and drove away.
The Sean walked into the cavernousarmory as the steel door descended shut behind him. Motion activated lightsswitched on in the ceiling. Thestaggeringvariety of weapons mounted on the wall greeted him inmute testament to humansavagery. What the heck am I doing here,he hesitated at the makeshift drone operator console, I have no clue. Everything was as Sean had left it.
Quick Start Guide : DoomTrooper Version 3.2 ''Alpine Rose'' -Tactical ThermoNuclearDefense
The training manual lay open on the first page, all its contents absorbed at a touch. Seannowknew the manual more thoroughly than its authors. Julia could do worse than pick him as a backup pilot, even if she didn''t know it. The CPU''s cooling fans hummed to life as Sean slipped on HUD goggles. Thumbstick studded controller wandsin each hand. No arm motion - only thumbaction - was needed tocontrol the drone, which was lucky for Sean given his cast. The HUD field of view was pitch dark for a moment, then lit up with video feed. His earpiece crackled. The view showed an unremarkable corridor that belonged in ahospital: florescent ceiling lights, worn cinderblock walls andanonymous doors with stencilled numerals. White-coated medical personnel wandered the hallway. Mufflednoises of children yelling, laughing or crying sounded behind doors. Guards in uniform - presumably South Caucasus infantry - loitered carrying carbines. The point of viewswungdown to look atcracked vinyl floor, where the walker''s foot had stepped on an abandoned doll. A dull boom sounded from far away, causingdust todrift down from the ceiling.
"Hello..." Sean raised his voice, "can you hear..."
"Bitch! Dial it down... nearlybusted my eardrums," Bryson''s voice swore quietly, "Thesecustomers are jittery as fuck. Don''t want some noob conscript shooting me."
"Sorry..." Sean whispered, "where''s Dawn?"
"Whisked offto see her boyfriend somewhere on base," Bryson grumbled, "In a fucking limo. I had to ride in a fucking truck with broken suspension, though."
"They let you transmit from inside?" Sean frowned, "Are you piggybacking on the DoomTrooper uplink? "
"DoomTrooper isn''t online yet," Bryson grunted "There''s a radio comm hubon base transmitting my signal as courtesy."
"Nice of them," Seantried to relax as the video feed trembled from another loud boom.
"No, you chump," Bryson chuckled, "it''s formyboss at Gibbsto greenlight any deals above my paygrade."
The soldier leading the wayknocked on one of the doors,then took position outside.Bryson stepped into a conference room with decor from the 70s.A group of uniformed men and one woman stood around a long tableof peeling laminate on which a large scale contour map was spreadout.
"Ah, Master-Sergeant Bryson, welcome to Kazbuk Children''s Hospital and Forward Operating Base," a squat baldmanwearing a spotless uniform and a silver beard smiled genially from one end of the table with heavily accented English, "Your timing is perfect. Our counter-offensive is underway."
Behind him on the wall was a large LCD monitor displaying the feed from Bryson''s camera, a duplicate of the feed that Sean was receiving.
"General Sarov," Bryson''s viewpoint tiltedfor a moment with a curt nod, "You sure this isn''t a bad time for the demo?"
"Not at all. I''m counting on it to be the decisive factor," Sarov bared his teeth, his fluffy beard neatly trimmed squaregave him aSanta Claus vibe if Santa Claus had beena serial-killer, "I hope you won''t disappoint me."
Some of theofficers at the table flinched at the last sentence. Theylooked tense, unlike the general.The camera viewpanned to the door. A uniformed grunt enteredwitha long duffel bag which was placed on the far end of the table thatbutted againsta large glasspane.
"Line of sight to the demo?" Bryson queried.
"The window commands anexcellent view," the woman at the table glancedan antiquated clock, her accent stronger, "Your techsbetter be donemounting the warheads, General, unless they want a transfer toa penal battalion."
The last sentence was spoken in the local tongue which Sean''s HUD tagged as a Kartvelian-Caspian dialect while automaticallycaptioning the translation in English.Her tone was bored, without hint of bluster. Seanfrowned under his goggles. There was an austeregrace to the woman''s face, a hardness that remindedhim of Agent Murphy from the DOE.
"It won''t come to that, Ludmila," General Sarov smiled indulgently. Ludmila''s knee-length military jacket was devoid of insignia unlike the shiny epaulettes on the men around her. Oddly enough, the menlocated closest to her had adopted poses suggesting they wanted to be as far away from her as possible.
Bryson''s handsassembled the tripod-mounted umbrella antennawith practised ease. Theglare of daylight washed outSean''s video feed for a second as Bryson pressed his nose against the glass. The windowoverlooked a rugged valley. Dark forest cloaked the lower slopes where a stream meandered at the bottom. Theterrainroseto a jagged snowy ridge, exposing bare scree above the treeline. Puffs of smokeunfurledlike fiery blossoms on the far ridgeline where a road snaked like a carelessly cast string. A convoy of vehicles, tiny in the distance,writhedunder the smoke like ademolishedant hill. On the near slope another mountain road carried military traffic descending past abareplateau where a truck in winter camoflage idled next to a dismantled crate.Wood panels and dolly carts were spread around a metallic formbuilt like a grinning humanoid tank. The DoomTrooper unit dwarfed the soldiers who were working on its arm in frantic haste.
"Handshake protocol with demo unit...," Bryson was muttering, "Booting in... 3... 2... 1. Unit is online."
Bryson''scamera feedcollapsed into a smaller corner windowas the HUD view changed to an outside view. A squad of South Caucasus soldiers were clambering into the back of a truck which was slowly merging with a main convoy of similar trucks making their way down to the valley. Atext overlay was counting down at the top ofSean''sHUD.
Payload(s) Detected: 3 Encryption: Yachta-143 Payload#1 Ready inT minus: 00:14:03
The mountain vistato his right was identical to that seen from Bryson''s viewpoint from inside the base. Sean tried to turn his head or rather the drone''s head with his HUD, only to see a wall of blackness outside the fixed view. The drone wasn''t accepting his actuator input.
"Huh... Bryson," Sean whispered, "I can see through the drone''s eyes. But can''t control it."
"Hmm," Bryson grunted, "If the uplink telemetry works so should the downlink. Let me..."
The smaller picture-in-picture feed showed Bryson grabbing a game controllerslottedintohisdish tripod. Sean''s main HUD view shifted looking up the mountain he - or rather the drone -was standing on. Four large buildings, scattered across the slope andwidely separated by terrain. Rows upon rows of identical dark windows stared broodingly from three cubical monoliths in concrete grey. The fourth building was a squat disc-shapedstructure like a flying saucer rimmed by a viewing balcony, its roof bristling with satellite dishes and antenna array. A giganticsickle-and-hammer insigniainfaded redpaint marked the only spot on theouter face not interrupted by thebalcony. The old Sovietemblem was partly obscured by a large banner - flag of the South Caucasus Republic - splayed over cracked concrete.Access roads patrolled by soldiers branched off to each structurefrom thearterial highway carryingmilitary traffic. The highway climbed past apicturesquetown spread like a quilt of quaint roofs and crenellated medieval ruins.
The drone stepped forward in lurching steps and lifted its arms. Three dark green cylindersbristling with fins were attached to jury-rigged pylons onits left forearm. The symbols CCCP * painted red ran alongone cylinder''s length. The stubby nosecone displayed a black trefoil centered in a yellow triangle. Cold war era cruise missilestipped withtactical nukes. Sean felt a chill. Shiny scratches gleamed aroundaccesspanels near thejet nozzles. The propulsions systems had been well maintained, apparently.
"MASERlink is working," Bryson muttered, then raised his voice, "Excuse me, General, did yourmen report problems withsignal reception? Onthe EHF bands specified in my correspondence."
"Not at all, reception was perfect," Sarov smiled, "That''s why we are jamming those channels. Surely you didn''t think we''d permita foreign power to co-pilot our atomic munition platform."
"General, theco-pilot isahighschool kid in Connecticutinterning at Zero Sum," Bryson sounded exasperated, "the same people who brokered this deal. You have their employee as hostage on this base. Your design spec explictlycalled for the drone user-interface to be intuitive enough for ateenagerto pilot it withminimal training. See for yourself."
Sean groaned. The only reason he had gotten up so early was supposedlyas a backup pilot. And the client had nixed that. Fuck this shit. He debatedtossing the headset and just going home. But Julia''s driver had left and there was no one at this unearthly hour to give him a lift. Maybe he should call a rideshare and send the bill to Julia.
"Miss Dawn is an extra piece of insurance," Sarov nodded smoothly, "And a lovely piece I might add. But we have our own candidate."
"We''re wasting time, General," Ludmilla clucked testily, "Summon thetestpilot."
Sean reluctantly decided to stay, to assure himself that Dawn was alright. Sarov spoke into a intercomm.The door opened shortly after to admit another guardcarrying a shoulder-slung submachine gun anda little girl clinging to his hand who couldn''t have been more than seven or eight. The girl shuffled up to the table dragging one foot stiffly. Her pyjamas were patterned in white camowitha shoulder patchshowing a missile nocked in a bow. A large label with the name Mariam wassewn to the front.Her other hand held a Barbie doll.What the heck was this, Sean frowned and sat up straighter.
"Is this a joke?" Bryson demanded coldly.
"Hand over your control goggles, Master-Seargent," Ludmilla ordered, "And standby for consultation.Mariamhere will pilot the drone. She''sis extremely good on the simulator. Isn''t that so, Mariam?"
"Yes, Ludmilla," the girllooked up with large liquideyes that were reddened as if she''d been crying recently. Her brown hair was tied in a short bunch on top reminiscent of a coconut. Sean frowned when he noticed her left cheek twitching rythmically.
"Aunt Ludmilla," the woman corrected curtly. Mariam didn''t reply.
"No joke, Master-Seargent," Sarov seemedamused, "The production version of our spec requiresthe DoomTrooper''sremote piloting systemto be replaced with a child-sized cockpit. Warhead telemetry will be integrated into the cockpit, of course."
"General" Bryson''s voice was low and controlled, "You must know that the DoomTrooper is not a child''s toy. Secondly, the modification you describe will make the plaform top heavy, throwing off the balancing algorithms. It took the code monkeys longenough to get the bipedal motion..."This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
"No, the changes are mass neutral,"the little girlpiped up in accentlessEnglish, "I don''t weigh much. Cockpit is mostly empty shell. I bet I can drive a Mecha better than anyone. I''ll show you!"
"W-what?" Bryson blurted in surprise, then after a pause, "um, you speak English?"
"I speak 27 human and 12 computer languages," Mariam nodded dismissively, "I can fix the Mecha locomotion if I need to." She tossed the Barbie she was holding on to the table. The doll twitched for a second and then neatly flipped itself on its feet. It walked purposefully, gracefully skipping over scattered pencils, stopping when it came to table edge. Sean blinked in surprise.
"I''ll be... no way youbuilt this, little girl," Bryson scoffed as he peered down, his videofeed zooming onthe doll. The Barbie had been extensively modified with gleaming articulated joints bulging with tiny stepper motors, a sensor web cleverly woven to look like a sequined dress and a backpackfabricated from a Raspberry Pi Zero circuit board and AAA cells.
"I did too!" Mariam retorted, herlittle fists bunching in frustration, "the only thing I can''t fix is my leg."
"Your goggles, Master-Sergeant,"snapped Ludmilla.
Bryson''s videofeed vanished from Sean''s HUD and when itcame back on he saw Bryson from a viewpoint of someone much shorter.
"...don''t understand why," Bryson sounded plaintive, "Whygive up remote piloting? You think someone can hack the drone? There''s no fucking way the MASER line-of-sight can be..."
"Line-of-sight is toolimited forlong range missions, Master-Sergeant," Sarov shook his head wearily, "Look at the terrain outside. And before you say it, using a satellite for drone control is not viable for us. Not when NATO or Russia can blow it out of the skyanytime they feel like it. No, what we need are autonomous dronesa lot cheaperthan what Fuller Dynamics charges for them... which is the price of a Boeing 737."
"Autonomous drones," Bryson said flatly, "that''s what this little girl is about. A disposal meat brain for the drone. Like the Japanese Kamikaze."
"Exactly, Master-Sergeant," Sarov beamed, "you are most perceptive. You see, an adult pilotdemands too much life support for extended operation which negates thepoint of a drone. But a child prodigy on the other hand cansurvive on far less, long enough to do the job. And we have acquiredknow-how to breed child prodigies..."
"General..." Ludmilla''s tone held warning.
"...which not even our Soviet masters could achieve," Sarov finished smoothly.
"The risk is too high," one of the officers around the table spoke up, amiddle-aged man who glanced at Ludmilla with a flicker of disdain, "a child''s loyalty is too untested to entrust..."
"She will obey orders without question," Ludmilla smiled unpleasantly, "or she won''t see her mother again. But if it will set your mind at ease, Colonel, perhaps a quick demo will suffice."
Ludmilla turned to the wallmonitor which showed the outside view from the drone''s viewpoint, as well as the inside view from Mariam''s viewpoint in a smaller window.
"Mariam," Ludmilla commanded, "see if you canlook into the valley andspot enemy personnel."
Sean''s HUD view swung around to the valley floor and magnifying greatly as Mariamzoomed in. A stream meandered through a wheat field dusted with light snow. A long line of people shuffled along the stream''s bank. The men were dressed inthreadbare winterjackets and the women in blankets. Some of the blankets were wrappedaroundchildren that the women dragged with them. TheDoomTrooper''s optics were impressively telescopic. Sean could see the lines of misery on the refugees'' faces. Mariam zoomed out a bit. The column stretched forever.
"These will do," Ludmilla''s voice interrupted like a whiplash, "Fire on them."
"No!" Sean yelled into his mic.
"Who is this?" Mariam''s squeaky voice sounded surprised in hisheadset from the other end of the link.
"I''m the backup pilot," Sean spoke quickly, "Don''t shoot those people. Please."
"I have to," Mariam muttered sullenly and raised DoomTrooper''s right arm, the barrels of the Gattling spooling up in the HUD''s view whererangecontoursappeared. Sean hammered on the thumbstick in futility, trying to standdown the "mini-gun", desperately hopinghis control channels were miraculously unjammed. The Gattling gave an terrible burp, the vibration crackling inhis headsetvia internal accelerometers, despite the lack of external audio on the DoomTrooper. Reddotsclustered thickly like anobscene snakeoverlayingeveryman, woman and childon the wintry field. The entire refugee column collapsed like puppets with their strings cut as smart bullets found their mark. Sean heard a distantscreamthat seemed to go on for ever.
"Stop yelling in my ear," Mariam''s voice snappedSean out of his mindless shriek.
"This wasn''t part ofthe deal," Bryson said slowly, staring at the wall display monitor, "the demo was supposed to be againstanticipatedenemy infantry."
"All in good time,"Sarov purred, "Our counter offensive haspushed enemy infantry beyond the range ofyourdrone''s gun. Ludmilla had to improvise. A hundred percent fatality rate among fleeing enemy civilians sends its own message, I think."
"Yourreactionis hypocritical, Master-Sergeant," Ludmilla observed tartly, "considering the American military is no stranger to civilian casualities. But I digress. Mariam,do you havecontrol of missiles yet?"
Payload#1 Ready inT minus: 00:00:09
Payload#2 Ready inT minus: 00:05:23
Payload#3 Ready inT minus: 00:05:55
"Nine seconds," whispered Mariam.
"Have you memorized primary and secondary targets?" Ludmilla demanded and Mariam nodded, "Launch when ready."
Seanwatched numbly as the first warhead''s status counted down to zero. Mariamraisedthe DoomTrooper''s left arm and the first missile ignited launching itself over the valley. Sean took a quick inventory of likely targets: Georgia to the northwest,Armenia to the southwest and Azerbaijan to the southeast. He didn''t think Russia to the north was a feasible target, not unless General Sarov was suicidal.Two more windows appeared in his HUD tracking the cruise missile''s progress: acamera feed from the missile''spoint-of-view and a map view that showed the missile''s trajectory in three-dimensional space. The missile''s initial eastward pathwas turningsouth. At its current heading it would cross into Azerbaijan''s airspace in seconds.The manualhad stressed that these missiles were NOT fire-and-forget. They were very short range,requiringline of sight to the DoomTrooper anda continuousauthenticationsignal from the drone pilot to keep the warhead armed. Whether this was a limitation of interfacing with Cold War tech or a safety feature wasn''t clear.
"General Sarov," Mariam spoke suddenly, "You have locked up someone named David Leonidze.Tell mewhich building he is in. It''s only me and other kids on this floor. And Stephanchecked and ruled out other floors in this building."
For a moment Sarov stared blankly at the little girl, then his face glowered at the guard holding Mariam''s shoulder protectively, "How did you... Private Stephan is it? I''ll have you shot for careless talk..."
"What business is it of yours, Mariam?" Ludmilla demandedominously.
"GORGON wants me to eliminatethis David Leonidze before youhandhim to the Americans," the words sounded obscene coming from a seven-year old. Ludmilla''s eyes widened. The guard named Stephan - a boy barely out of his teens -raised his submachine gun and carefully shotthe officers in short bursts, sparing only Ludmilla, Sarov and Bryson. The smokingbarrel wasshoved against Ludmilla''s forehead. Shouts sounded outside the room, followed by pounding atthe door.
"Your gun, Ludmilla," Mariam spoke quickly, "No tricks."
Ludmilla''s pistol clatter to the floor, her face twisted in fury, "Your mother..."
"Mother abandoned me!" Mariam shrieked so loudly that Sean grimaced in pain, "Angel told me what General Sarov did to my mother to make her stoploving me." Tears ran down her face from under her goggles.
"What," Ludmilla blinked, her eyes narrowing, "General, what''s she talking about?"
"The lovely young womanwas too attached to herchild togive me the attention I needed," Sarov shrugged, "So I gave her a special shot that suppresses vasopressin and oxytocin. Surely I have the right to any femaleinmate."
"The mothersare the only control Ihave over the children, you stupid prick.The Directorate will have your head for this..." Ludmilla was working herself into a fit, then turned to Mariam, "wait... who is Angel?"
"The Angel of Many Souls," whispered Mariam reverently, "the lady from GORGON. You called her Katrina."
"You fool," Ludmilla snarled at Sarov, "you allowed the GORGON delegation access to children in the pipeline?"
"Chairwoman Malenkov wanted to inspect her crop," Sarov replied sullenly, "how was I to refuse."
"Last chance, General," Mariam yelled shrilly, "tell me which building?"
"Go to hell, brat," snarled Sarov, "by the time I''m done with your mother..."
Stephan squeezed off another burst. The generalsprawled dead over the maps of his ambition.
"The hard way then," Mariam''s mouth tightened, watching Ludmilla. The pounding on the door intensified followed by the sound of automatic weapons fire. The door lock splintered.A squad of soldierssmashed through and then froze when they saw the carbine muzzle against Ludmilla''s head. There was no clear line of fire that would spare her.
"Drop your weapon and surrender, Private," barked an officer.
"You know what the Directorate will do to you if theirCommissardies," Stephan warned. The officer swung hisrifle towards Mariam.
"No," screamed Ludmilla, "don''t shoot her. The child is Directorate property."
Sean watched with the surreal sense of a lucid dream. HisHUD showed Mariamturning around the missile''s trajectory to a full circle. Ablinding sun bloomed on the mountain side outshining the one in the sky.Sean''s HUD blacked out for a secondand cameback on. Where the communications hubhad stood, a glowing mushroom cloudwas rising up likea titan''s fist. A Geigerindicatorchattered urgentlyin his headset. He reflexively jerked back in his seat before registering that he wasn''t physically there. A gale force wind howledfrom the radioactive cloud sweeping away men, vehicles and anything that wasn''taffixed to the ground. The DoomTrooper was the exception. The drone shudderedalarminglyas it leaned into the nuclear wind, it''s sheer mass and stablizationreflex keeping it anchored. Sean stared open-mouthed as the entire truck convoy slidover the side of the road, fallinginto the valley below. Two of the trucks narrowlymissed the drone as they wenttumblingto their deaths. The other three concrete buildings remained intact except for blackening of the walls and missing glass. Low-yield nuke, Sean nodded, ferverently hoping Dawn hadn''t been taken to the vaporized hub. Smokecrackled from the pyre of the picturesque surrounding town.
The LCD wall displaywent darkat the moment of impact. Bryson, Stephan and Ludmilla threw themselves to the floor following Mariam''s lead. The guards didn''t catch on quickly enough. The window pane disintegrated into shards flyinglike bullets, slicing and shredding the assault sqaud.Alarm''s blared in the corriodor.
"Oh no, no, no, no." Ludmilla moaned and sat up slowly, "what have you done, you little fiend."
"One down, two to go," Mariam muttered, getting up and limping over to the table to inspect Bryson''s MASER antenna for possible damage. She adjusted the antenna realigning it to the drone outside and carefully kicked away Ludmilla''s pistol on the floor beyond the Commissar''s reach. Sean felt a stab of admirationover hispity. The little girl was far toocompetent for someone so young.
"You are a soldier of the Republic," Ludmilla looked over her shoulder at the kneeling Stephan, "why commit treason?"
"He liked my mother a lot," Mariam walked over andthrew her arms aroundStephan''s neck. The innocence in her tonebrokeSean''s heart.
"Ah," Ludmilla''s shoulders slumped, "My mistake to not rotate the guards."
Bryson got to his feet dusting off glass pieces. He was laughing, a sound of madexhilaration, "Since DoomTrooper has performed flawlessly, ma''am, my business here is concluded. Hey little girl, Mary-Ann or whatever your name is, it was nice meeting you and all. But I really need to scoot. Customers to meet, deals to make, yadda yadda. Are we cool?"
"Go," Mariam nodded.
Bryson gave Ludmilla a mock salute and carefully stepped over bodies. He paused just outside the door and turned to stare at Mariam, "Do what yougot do it, kid. Don''t worry about me."
Then Bryson was gone.Sean sat ponderinghis parting comment and then stiffened in realization. The comment had been meant for Sean, not Mariam. Wait, that communications hub had been jamming his satellite control... He flexed his thumbstick and the drone turned to his command! He had finally acquired co-pilot control.
Payload#2READY FOR LAUNCH
Payload#3 Ready inT minus: 00:00:03
Sean launched the second warhead. Mariam swore something in her tongue that the HUD couldn''t translate. Sean pulled back his stick gaining altitude, then pulled harder toguide the missile into a loop-the-loop.
"What do you think you are doing?" Mariam demanded as she launched the third warhead.
"Drop the missile and walk away," Sean ordered, "Or..."
"Or what?"Mariam challenged.
"I''ll destroy your building," Sean promised, " I can''t let you blow upDavid Leonidze. A girl Iknow is in there with him."
"Hmm... do you know which building I am in?" Mariam taunted, "Didn''t think so. One third chance you''ll hit your girlfriend. Feeling lucky, punk?"
Sean steadied the missile''s descent. It''s projectedpath on the HUD intersected one of the concrete monoliths. But which one was Mariam in? There was no way for Sean to tell, from the brief glimpse of the outside he''d seen from Bryson''s video feed. He couldn''t simplytarget one at random. An icy fearcaressed him. Dawn was going to die. Hemight simplyend upfinishing whatMariam had started, if he nuked one of the three standing buildings at random. Mariam''s missile was mimicking his owntrajectory not far behind as she began to steady her descent, picking one of the two buildings that Sean wasn''t targeting. In a few seconds it would be over, one way or another.
A sudden yearning for dear Mei-Ling''s company hitSean like a blow. Wise loyal Mei-Ling who hadput up with histeen angst for so long. Tears pricked his eyes. He missed hermotherly wisdom.Time seemed to slow for Sean, his mind automatically dredging up everything he''d learned on estimating odds, matching patterns. Then it clicked. He didn''t knowwhich of the three buildings Mariam was in, but Mariam did.
There had been agameshow called the Monty Hall show, where the host would ask the participant to pick one of three closed doors. Only one of the doors held treasure and only the host knew which one. After the participant selected a door, the host would open one of the other doors which was always guaranteed to be empty and ask the particpant if he wanted to stick to his first selection or switch to theother closed door. Most participants would say no, seeing no advantage in switching doors, and in doing so would fail to realize that the host wasn''t picking the empty door at random. The host knewwhich door heldthe prize. Just as Mariam knew which building she was in, and could see which building Sean was targeting. Sean''s prior chance of targeting her correctly was only 1/3. There was 2/3 chance that she was in one of the other two buildings. And since she would never target her own building, there was 2/3 chance that Mariam was in the building that neither Sean or Mariam had targeted. Sean was making a Bayesian update on his odds based on the opponent''s knowledge which was utterly non-intuitive to most people.
"Found you," Sean snarled, veering the missile away sharply towardshis new target, amoment before impact. Mariam screamed shrilly.An atomicsunblossomedagain, a twin to the first. Mariam''s trajectory vanished from the HUD, her missile auto-disarming and slamming harmlessly into it''s target. The new mushroom cloud anditslarger sibling illuminatedthe remaining two buildings in hellish light.Dawn and her boyfriendmust be in one of these. Probably. Sean ripped the HUD off his face to wipe awayhis tears, but they kept flowing. He sat for a long time in the armory,sobbing his heart out, thinking of precocious littleMariam who''d never had a chance at a normal life. Thechild he''d vaporized to save Dawn.
END OF CHAPTER