Shadows of War

them in a double bank against the far wall. There were also a number of laptops stacked on a trolley in the corner.

Doner was not the typical hands-off military supervisor Zeus had expected from his tours before Special Forces. The colonel was an unabashed geek who had hand-assembled several of the larger computers in the office, and written parts of the software that ran the war games simulations he oversaw.

Doner liked to claim that when he had joined the Army, the only thing he knew about computers was how to turn them on; while it was a slight exaggeration, the forty-year-old colonel had truly learned on the job.

“All right,” said Doner, returning to his desk. “How was your weekend?”

“Real fine, Mike. Yours?”

“The ten-year-old needs braces. I didn’t know they put them in braces that early.”

“Neither did I.”

“I don’t think I even knew there was such a thing as braces until I was sixteen or seventeen,” said Doner.

And by then it was too late, thought Zeus — though he didn’t say it. That was the difference between him and Rosen. His friend didn’t know when to shut the hell up. Not very important for a captain, but critical for a major, and all ranks above.

“You probably didn’t need braces, did you?” added Doner.

“No, actually I didn’t.”

“Charmed life.” Doner smiled — it was a crooked smile, with a bit too much enamel missing on the front teeth — then leaned back in his chair. “Zeus, I need a favor from you.”

“A favor?”

“We have some visitors coming today. They’re interested in seeing Red Dragon.”

Murphy felt his face flush. The colonel was going to ask him to throw the simulation and let Perry win.

Could he agree to that?

It wasn’t simply a matter of ego. Though they operated like very sophisticated computer games, the simulations were very serious business. The results were recorded and analyzed, then integrated into various war plans and strategy papers prepared by the Army staff. The results from one simulation might not make that big a difference in the overall scheme of things… and then again, they might. Especially if he threw the simulation to let the U.S. win.

But was this a request he could turn down?

Before he could ask, Maggie returned with the coffee. Glad for the interruption, Zeus took the cup, then fussed over how hot the liquid was, waving his hand over it.

“As I was saying, we have a few VIPs coming today, and we’d like them to see the simulation in action.”

“Ordinarily General Cody deals with VIPs.”

“Yes, but the general won’t be here today. He has business elsewhere.”

So I have to take one for the team, thought Zeus. He sipped his coffee, waiting for Doner to drop the other shoe. But Doner didn’t say anything.

“Well, okay,” said Zeus finally, standing up. “Guess I better go get myself ready then.”

“There is a little more to it.”

Here it comes, thought Zeus, sitting back down.

“We’re going to use Scenario One — Lightning War.”

“Okay,” said Zeus. The scenario called for war in the very first round, a condition that generally favored Red.

“Thing is, I’d like you to take Blue.”

“You want me to be Blue?” said Murphy. He tried to keep his voice level, but his relief still came through.

“General Perry is pretty much convinced that there’s no way for Red to lose. I don’t blame him, given the results over the past year.”

“A year? I thought we were the first to use it.”

“Officially, yes. But I had it in beta before you got here. I’ve run this scenario for a while, Zeus. In different guises. If Red plays smart, it takes over Asia. The other scenarios are much more balanced, but this one always stacks the deck.”

“And here I thought I was a brilliant strategist.”

“You’re not bad.” Doner gave him another of his crooked smiles. “You’re good, in fact. But the deck is stacked. Not on purpose,” the colonel added hastily. “Red Dragon is as close to real life as we can get. Except for that bit you pulled about San Francisco.”

“I think the Chinese would definitely try that,” said Zeus.

“Maybe. But they’d never get into the harbor that easily.”

Murphy had used civilian airplanes and cargo ships — allowed under the game rules — to sneak an advance force into the city, paving the way for a larger conventional attack. Neither side was theoretically at war yet, which made the surprise tactic even easier to pull off. It was exactly the way things might start, Murphy knew — the twenty-first-century equivalent of Pearl Harbor.

“So I’m today’s sacrificial lamb, huh?” Murphy got up. “I’ll go down quickly.”

“No, no, play hard. Play as hard as you can. Play to win. Definitely play to win.”

“But the deck is stacked, right?”

Doner shrugged. “Play as hard as you can.”

* * *

Even with the most conventional strategies, Blue’s position in Asia was hopeless if war was declared in the first round. There was simply no time to get troops there, and no reliable ally to stop Red early enough to keep it from achieving its objective. No matter what Red’s immediate tactical goals were — Taiwan, Japan, Indochina, even Australia — Blue could never rally its forces quickly enough. In fact, any response in force ran the risk of leaving it so weak that Red was positioned to launch a successful invasion of the U.S. mainland.

“Complete naval blockade, Day One,” said Rosen, whom Murphy had tagged as his chief of staff, by rule his main collaborator in the day’s session. “You build up the walls on the West Coast, and hang on.”

“That loses. They get whatever they want, game over.”

Murphy rose from the console. The simulation played out on a large 3-D map projected from a table in each game room, as well as smaller laptop devices all interconnected through a wireless network. The table was really a very large computer screen that made use of a plasma technology to create stunningly realistic graphics; a viewer watching troops move through the map display could easily believe he was sitting in an airplane.

“Preemptive strike is suicide,” said Rosen. “Griffin tried that against Cody the first week I was here. Led to a nuclear exchange in Month Two.”

Another loss, according to the rules of the scenario.

“Wasn’t what I was thinking.”

“Our best bet is following doctrine, right down the line,” said Rosen. “Be the graceful losers. And make sure winners buy. Who are the VIPs, anyway?”

“Who cares?” Zeus pulled out one of the workstation seats and sat down. The Red Team was across the hall, undoubtedly putting the finishing details on the plan. General Perry would be off with the VIPs, but his chief of staff was Major Win Christian — the valedictorian at West Point Major the year Murphy graduated. Murphy had been in the top half of his class, but nowhere near Christian.

Which suited him just fine. Staying away from Christian had been his basic game plan his four years at the Point, after an unfortunate run-in with his fellow plebe during orientation. Christian was already a favorite of the staff because his father was a graduate and a general, and the incident had given Zeus exactly the sort of reputation no cadet wanted. He survived that first semester, but just barely.

Every time his path crossed with Christian’s following that, whether it was in sports, academics, or social life, inevitably Zeus came off on the losing side.

It would be really nice to clock the SOB today.

“What are you doing?” asked Rosen.