Chương 8
“You already told me.”
“I read it again.”
“And?”
“It is worse than I remembered.”
The sentence surprised her.
Not because of what it admitted.
Because he could have chosen a dozen easier ones.
“I didn’t authorize imprisonment,” he continued. “I didn’t authorize coercive procedures. I did authorize an extremely broad classified research framework with inadequate outside review.”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“You mean you signed something you shouldn’t have.”
“Yes.”
No decoration.
No explanation.
Just yes.
She looked at him for a long time.
“Why?”
Jonathan leaned against the bulkhead.
“My wife died eleven months before that authorization reached me.”
Claire knew Daniel’s mother had died. She did not know when.
“Cancer?”
“Stroke.”
He rubbed his thumb over one palm.
“She collapsed in our kitchen. Daniel was there. I wasn’t.”
Claire waited.
Jonathan looked toward the floor.
“The proposal was sold as a way to improve recovery after trauma. Memory fragmentation. Panic response. Operational impairment. People coming home physically intact and unable to function.”
“And that sounded personal.”
“Yes.”
“So you stopped asking questions.”
“I asked questions.”
“Not enough.”
“No.”
Claire leaned back.
The motion hurt her ribs.
Jonathan noticed but did not comment.
“My entire career,” he said, “I believed one of the dangers of authority was believing you understood something because people gave you clean briefings.”
Claire looked at him.
“And then?”
“And then somebody gave me a clean briefing at the right time.”
She stared at the bandage on her ankle.
“My sympathy is limited.”
“It should be.”
Outside the bay, a refrigeration compressor clicked on.
Bell poured coffee into a paper cup and made a face after tasting it.
Ordinary noises.
Claire said, “Daniel told me I volunteered.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Do you remember?”
“No.”
“Nothing?”
“I remember Yemen.”
“That was before the program.”
“I remember pieces.”
She touched her forehead.
“A white room. A voice asking my name. Daniel sitting on a floor. I don’t know if those are memories or suggestions created by seeing him.”
Jonathan did not say anything reassuring.
She appreciated that.
“Why did you hit me?” she asked.
His eyes closed briefly.
“Because you said my son was alive.”
“That makes no sense.”
“No.”
“You thought I was lying?”
“I thought you were using him.”
“Why?”
“Kane briefed me before you reached the deck. He said you had become unstable during an operation and had begun claiming Daniel was alive. He warned me you might use personal information to manipulate me.”
“And you believed him.”
“I believed enough.”
Claire looked toward Daniel’s bay.
“You hit a subordinate in front of half a flight deck.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to call that grief?”
“No.”
That answer hurt him.
She could see it.
He continued.
“Grief explains why I lost control. It does not excuse what I did.”
Claire picked up the broken cracker.
She was no longer hungry.
“Good.”
Jonathan nodded.
He turned to leave.
“Admiral.”
He looked back.
“I’m not forgiving you.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“That’s the first intelligent decision you’ve made tonight.”
Something almost like humor touched his face.
Then it was gone.
“Get some sleep, Captain.”
“I hate when admirals say that.”
“I’m beginning to understand why.”
He left.
Daniel woke twenty minutes later and asked for orange juice.
They had apple.
He stared at the carton.
“This is how civilizations fail.”
Claire sat beside him.
“You look terrible.”
“So do you.”
“I was slapped by your father.”
“I heard.”
“You sound pleased.”
“I’ve wanted to slap him since I was fifteen.”
Claire laughed before she could stop herself.
Daniel smiled.
The expression was familiar.
That frightened her more than his face.
She put the apple juice on his tray.
“Tell me.”
His smile disappeared.
“Claire.”
“You said not there. We’re somewhere else.”
“It’s still a Navy ship.”
“So?”
“So people hear things.”
“Serrano has security outside.”
“That doesn’t make the walls deaf.”
She leaned closer.
“What did they do?”
Daniel stared at his hands.
“When you came into the study, you were having problems after Yemen.”
“What kind?”
“Sleep. Anger. Gaps.”
“I had a blast injury.”
“Yes.”
“You were there?”
“Not in Yemen. After.”
“What were you?”
“Intelligence oversight liaison.”
“What does that mean in normal language?”
“I read reports from people who were better at lying than most.”
“Useful.”
“Not enough.”
Claire waited.
Daniel turned the apple juice carton slowly between his fingers.
“The program started with legitimate work. Stress recovery. Controlled exposure. Memory reconsolidation research. Nothing magical. Nothing like erasing a person.”
“But?”
“But they started testing whether emotional associations could be weakened.”
Claire’s eyes went to the coin.
Daniel followed her gaze.
“Objects were used as anchors. Photos. Sounds. Personal items.”
“You gave them your coin?”
“No.”
“Then how did they get it?”
“You had it.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“You gave it to me before Yemen.”
“You won it.”
“I thought I lost a bet.”
“You did. The bet was whether you could beat me through the obstacle course at Coronado after insulting my running form.”
“Did I?”
“You cheated.”
“Then I won.”
“You cut a corner.”
“Efficient route selection.”
Daniel smiled.
The familiarity returned.
Claire felt angry at him for making it feel warm.
“Why did I keep your coin?”
He shrugged.
“You said it was ugly.”
“That sounds more believable.”
“You carried it anyway.”
She rubbed her thumb against her palm.
“So the program used it.”
“Yes.”
“And engraved me as Subject Two.”
“Eventually.”
“Who was Subject One?”
Daniel looked at her.
She stopped.
“You.”
“No.”
“I saw your band.”
“I wasn’t originally a subject.”
“Daniel.”
“I inserted myself.”
Claire stared.
“Why?”
“Because I thought if I participated, I could prove what they were doing.”
“That is unbelievably stupid.”
“I know.”
“You volunteered to let people you suspected of misconduct experiment on you.”
“Yes.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“My father has said that.”
Claire looked away.
The image of him sitting on the floor returned.
One, two, three.
Pause.
“What did they take from me?”
May you like
Daniel’s voice became quieter.
“They didn’t take a single memory, Claire.”
