by Anne Fox
“The target both moves and shoots at a realistic speed, to as closely simulate and actual adversary as possible. Hal will also announce hits over our range PA system on both the target and on us, and will let you know if a hit disables you in any way or eliminates you. Do you have any questions, Sir?”
“Other than noting that this has both the potential to be an exciting exercise as well as a humiliating one, no.”
“A friendly warning, Sir,” Spud noted, “the simunitions smart big time. You won’t need Hal to let you know you’ve been hit. I hope Hank told you to wear appropriate protective equipment.”
The Colonel smiled, and with a glance toward Hank, said, “The jewels are safeguarded.”
“Spud and I will toss a coin to see who goes first, Sir. That way, you can get an idea of how to run the course. He and I will run through all seven barricades, but if you wish you can stop when Hal records a fatal hit either for you or on you. Whichever one of us loses the toss will then toss a coin to determine which will go first for the second round: you, or the other one of us.
“Expect some profanity, Sir,” she concluded.
Spud handed the colonel a quarter. “Would you do the toss, Sir? She cheats.”
The colonel laughed. Taking the quarter, he said, “Call it, Gunny,” while flipping it into the air.
“Heads.”
“Tails,” the colonel announced after catching it and slapping it on the back of his hand. “It looks like our Sergeant Major goes first.”
Hank leaned back on a firing bench while Spud readied himself at the starting point. Over the range PA, they heard Hal announce, “Gun.”
Spud ran to the first barricade, unholstering his gun as he went, then commenced to run from barricade to barricade, taking two shots at the target as he sprinted from one to the other and hearing “Fatal shot recorded, suspect” during each set of two shots fired. Hank grinned as he twisted and turned, trying to keep awareness of the motions of the constantly-moving target. Pausing at one point, the target hidden behind a barricade, he dropped a partially-depleted magazine into a pocket of his Cammie pants and reloaded with a full one. As he did so, the target reappeared and hit him with a simunitions bullet on his exposed ankle.
“OW! Sonuvabitch!”
“Nonfatal hit recorded,” Hal announced over the range PA. “Left foot disabled.”
Hank grinned. “Care to up the bet a bit?” she asked Spud.
“No.”
“Aw, come on, Spud. I was game when you wanted to up the bet.”
He scowled at her. “Ok. What?”
“I’m inviting the colonel to dinner. You wait on us hand and foot if you lose. I’ll do the honors if you win.”
“Ok.”
“In the frilly apron,” she added.
“NO.”
“You made me wear it,” she said.
He glared at her. “Ok. But don’t think I’m going to just give up.”
She grinned. “That’s the whole idea. You’ve got three barricades to get to. Time’s a-wastin’.”
She folded her arms, a satisfied smirk on her face, while Spud resumed running the remainder of the course. Shooting it cleanly, in spite of hopping on one foot, he cleared and reholstered his pistol while limping slightly as he walked uprange.
“You got hurt?” she asked.
“No. I’m just limping for sympathy,” Spud said, annoyed. “Yes. The sim bullet caught me right on the ankle bone.” He pulled down his sock to reveal a reddening welt.
“Poor baby,” Hank said. “That’ll be a beautiful color by tomorrow.”
“Note, Sir, that this is my wife,” Spud said, boosting himself up to sit on a firing bench.
“Toss a quarter, cripple,” Hank said, grinning.
“Call it.”
“Tails.”
“Heads. Looks like you’re up, Sir.”
The colonel readied himself, and hearing Hal announce “Gun,” proceeded to run the course, hearing a fair number of “Fatal shot recorded, suspect” as he went. Then he was hit in the leg with a sim bullet.
“Damn, that hurts!” he exclaimed, falling to the floor.
“Move, Sir,” Hank admonished.
Too late in doing so, he was hit in the chest with another round. “Fatal shot recorded. Team member eliminated,” Hal announced. He held up a hand in surrender.
“A Marine does not surrender!” Hank bellowed. “Get up! Complete the course!”
The colonel looked at her with astonishment and scrambled to get behind the next barricade. Taking a quick peek to see where the target was and yanking himself back just in time to see a simunitions round whizz by where his head had just been, he came around the other side of the barricade and resumed running and firing. Reaching the last barricade, Hank said, “Hal, end.”
The colonel had beads of sweat standing out on his forehead.
“Exhilarating, isn’t it, Sir?” Hank asked, smiling.
“Are you sure you’re not a Marine?” he asked.
“Positive, Sir.” As he walked back uprange, she pulled out her 1911 and the three magazines she had prepared, checked them all over, and took her place at the starting line, noting as she did the smile on Luigi’s face in the range officer’s booth.
“Gun.”
She commenced running the course, dodging and weaving between the barricades while hearing a constant stream of “Fatal shot recorded, suspect” from Hal as she did so. Reaching the final barricade, she sat hidden behind it. “Hal, end.”
“That was a clean run, Sweetheart,” she heard Luigi announce from the booth.
“Who won?” she asked.
“Oh, Sweetheart, you mopped the floor with ‘im.”
“Gotta go find that apron before she makes me wear it,” Spud muttered, and made for the range door.
“Oh, Spu-ud,” Hank sang out.
He turned and looked at her. She was pulling something from one of the cargo pockets in her Cammie pants.
“Looking for this?” she asked, waving the apron.
He scowled at her. “I should spank you.”
“Sounds kinky. Want to try that tonight? I’ll let you wear the apron then, too, if you want.”
The colonel fell on his knees laughing while Spud continued to scowl in Hank’s direction.
“I’m going to give the colonel a tour of the facility,” she said. Waving the apron, she added, “See you at dinner.”
13
“I don’t believe I just heard that,” Cloud said, watching the news on the monitor in the library as the team gathered for a meeting.
Spud sat watching with him. He was once again wearing the neutral expression of a Secret Service agent on duty. “It was inevitable, I suppose.”
“What was inevitable?” Crow asked, coming into the library.
“That the Vice President and the cabinet would invoke the Twenty-fifth Amendment,” Spud said. “The President has just been removed from office on the grounds that he isn’t fit to serve.”
“And the shit, as they say, is hitting the fan,” Cloud added. “The President still enjoys a popular following. There are lots of people who feel he’s been taking the country in the right direction, and they’re expressing their unhappiness in the streets.”
“Which is also inevitable.” Spud stood and put his hands in his pockets. “This is the first time a sitting President has been removed from office on the grounds of being mentally unfit to serve. There have been times when a President has voluntarily handed the responsibility of the Presidency over to the Vice President. George W. Bush did it twice during times when he was having medical procedures done, and then took back the responsibilities once he was able afterwards. But this is a whole new ball game. This time, you have the Vice President saying the President should be indefinitely removed. Which is tantamount to saying ‘permanently removed.’”
“Any chance the President will protest it?” Amigo asked.
“If he’s at all aware of the odd behavior he somet
imes exhibits, then I don’t see why he would,” Spud said.
“That’s what’s puzzling to me,” Doc Andy said from his seat at the table. “The behavior isn’t consistent. At one moment, the President is perfectly lucid. Then he will gradually slide into what appears to be a psychotic state. It almost appears to me that he might be under the influence of some kind of drug.”
“You think he might be a drug abuser?” Spud asked.
“It makes more sense than saying he’s mentally ill,” Doc Andy said.
“Just what we need,” Hank muttered. “A junkie for President.”
“With the oddity there being that I’ve never seen him appear to take anything. Unless he’s doing so when no one can observe him.” Doc Andy strummed his fingers on the table. “Betty Ford was abusing drugs while she was First Lady, but having a President abuse drugs while in the Oval Office would be a first. At least as far as any of us knows.”
“In any event, our meeting today is simply to get an update on what Doc Andy has been doing with regard to profiling.”
Doc Andy took his chin off his hand and sat up. “What I’ve been investigating lately is the observed differences between the brains of criminals and the brains of law-abiding individuals. This may not be of much use to us in coming up with a profile of a suspect or suspect group we’re seeking in a mission, but it might be of great use to us when it comes to screening candidates for inclusion in the Field Team.”
“We’re talking about avoiding another Spot,” Amigo said.
“Exactly. It seems that defects within certain regions of the brain are closely correlated with criminal behavior, most notably in a region called the amygdala.” He turned toward the monitor. “Hal, display human brain with amygdala location on monitor L1.”
The monitor in the library popped up a display showing a CT scan of a human brain, with a small region at the base of the brain highlighted in color.
“Defects in this area have been shown to be correlated with criminal behavior,” Doc Andy continued. “The amygdala is considered to be the seat of human emotion, so it would stand to reason that defects in this structure could also result in abnormalities in emotional responses. Reduction in volume of brain matter in this region have been shown to be correlated both with reduction of fear conditioning, which I’ll describe in a bit, and in deficits in inhibitory control, especially in patients with post-traumatic stress disorder.”
Doc Andy looked in Hank’s direction. “It could explain why Spot attacked you, Hank.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Hal, display CT scans of field team members’ brains with amygdala highlighted.” The monitor replaced the former display with a display showing seven brain scans, each with a colored region at the base of the brain.
“These are your brains,” Doc Andy said. “Notice that the colored regions, which are your amygdalae, are all relatively equal in size.” Pausing, he continued with, “Hal, display CT scan of brain, Spot, with CT scan of brain, Spud.”
A new image came up on the screen, showing two scans side-by-side.
“This is your brain, Spud,” Doc Andy said, indicating the scan on the left. “And this is Spot’s. Notice that his amygdalae are much smaller than yours.” He turned back to Hank. “Spot may lack the impulse control to keep from acting out violently. And when he saw you as the object of his anger, he manifested that lack of control in the form of a sexual assault.”
“So now he gets excused because he’s got a defect in his brain?” Hank demanded.
“One could argue that all criminals have a defect of one kind or another in their brains, given their criminal behavior isn’t considered normal. Whether this defect could be considered causative is certainly up for interpretation. Those of us in medicine simply do not have enough information on this topic to come to that conclusion, though a court of law might find that conclusion being drawn. There is also the possibility that this area may appear on a CT scan as perfectly normal, but may be functioning at a lower than normal level, giving the same result. But given we conduct a full-body CT scan of every field team candidate prior to approval for inclusion in the team, we could make this finding a disqualifying one. This, of course, runs the risk of eliminating someone who may never, as a result of having this defect, display any abnormalities in their behavior. It will be up to us to decide if the risks outweigh the benefits of someone who has this finding in their CT scan.”
“I will not be one entering into that decision,” Hank said.
“I think you should absolutely be one of those making that decision,” Edge retorted.
“No. I simply can’t be objective on this one,” Hank returned. She sat back in her chair.
“This should perhaps be best left to the medical team. Medical A,” Cloud said. “I fly aircraft. I don’t interpret CT scans.”
“Medical A has discussed this already,” Doc Andy replied. “We’ve reached a consensus on how we believe we should proceed. But we didn’t want to exclude the field team from the decision should you wish to have a say.”
“We already evaluate how we think a candidate will fit into the team independent of Medical A,” Cloud said. “It’s the whole reason Medical A is isolated from the team while we’re doing recruiting. My personal opinion, and other team members may vary in theirs, is that this is a medical finding and should be left to Medical A to determine if it’s disqualifying on medical grounds or not.”
“Can we take a vote?” Spud asked.
“By all means, let’s vote,” Voice said. “All those in favor of allowing Medical A to decide if this finding on a CT scan should be disqualifying, so indicate.”
Seven fists reached out and tapped knuckles on the table.
“Very well,” Doc Andy said. “I’ll then tell you that Medical A has already determined that this should be a disqualifying medical finding. We would rather err on the side of safety on this one.
“Now let me go back and discuss the topic of fear conditioning, which I touched on earlier.
“Fear conditioning is a learning process. Basically, you can perform an experiment in which you couple a stimulus, say, a tone, with a negative experience, like an electric shock. It’s not unlike Pavlov’s dogs.”
“We aren’t getting into something that might be considered torture, are we?” Edge asked.
“No, we’re not talking about a shock so strong that it actually elicits pain. Discomfort suffices. Hal, show fear conditioning experimental device.”
A new display appeared on the library’s monitor, showing two hands, palm down on a table, with bands around both.
“This is the way the apparatus is set up,” Doc Andy explained. Putting the actual apparatus on the table, he added, “And this is the apparatus itself.” He pushed it to the center of the table so all could get a look at it.
“Both of these straps look the same,” Amigo noted, “except for the color of the bands.”
“Look the same, but are in fact different,” Doc Andy said. “The one with the red band is the stimulus device. The one with the blue band registers the electrodermal activity evoked by the stimulus. You can see the stubby electrodes do look the same, but the ones on the red band deliver a shock and the ones on the blue register the electrodermal activity in the same way it’s measured during a lie detector test.” He brought up another device. “When recorded as a tracing on this device, we can see how the subject associates fear with the stimulus given. An electrical shock is co-administered with a tone. We’ve played with this and find that five shocks are sufficient to achieve the learning needed for this test to establish a good association in the mind of the subject with the tone. Then we administer five additional tones with no associated shock. Who would like to help me demonstrate this?”
“Sounds interesting,” Spud said. “I’ll give it a go. What do I do?”
“Practically nothing,” Doc Andy said. He strapped one of the bands on Spud’s left hand with the electrodes against his palm,
and the other on his right hand with the electrodes again against his palm.
“Now you just sit and try not to say anything,” Doc Andy said.
Toggling a switch, the others watched as Spud winced, then winced again four more times with a tone sounding each time he winced. The tone continued to sound for five additional times.
“Done,” Doc Andy announced. Taking a paper strip from the recording device, he spread it out on the table.
“Note that while a shock was being administered, Spud’s electrodermal activity demonstrated this response: an increase in electrodermal activity, followed by a decline when the shock isn’t being administered. But when the shock stopped being administered, he still exhibited the electrodermal response. He has effectively associated the tone with the shock. This is a normal fear conditioning response. Subjects with an abnormal response, which is an indication of reduced amygdala functioning, won’t show the continued electrodermal response when the shock stops being administered.”
“So, we’re looking at another medical finding,” Cloud remarked. “Which again, I believe should be left up to Medical A to interpret and decide if it’s disqualifying.”
Seven fists reached out and tapped knuckles on the table.
“I will admit to you that I and the other two doctors of Medical A aren’t quite so sure about this one. We may encounter individuals with a high degree of resistance to pain, which may invalidate the test. So what we’re asking for here is whether you believe we should be allowed to continue to assess whether this test could be a useful adjunct to determining if a candidate should be included as a member of the field team.”
“You’re asking us to let you use potential team members as guinea pigs?” Crow asked.
Doc Andy gave Crow one of his clinical looks and said, “Yes.”
“If it will help us from having another Spot sneak in...” Crow said.