“Shit, Szi,” Mattson said. “We don’t let him turd without a camera up his ass. And he’ll die in a day without his medicine. He is the only scientist I have that I absolutely know I can trust.”
“All right,” Szilard said. “You gave him to me once when I asked. You can have him now. Just remember he’s one of ours, General. And you know how I am about my people.”
“Fair enough,” Mattson said.
“The transfer order is in your queue,” Szilard said. “As soon as you approve it, it’s done.” Szilard nodded to Robbins and Sagan, glanced over to Jared, and left.
Mattson turned to Sagan. “If you’ve got any good-byes to make, now’s the time to do them.”
“Thank you, General,” Sagan said. ::What an asshole,:: she said to Jared.
::I still don’t know what’s going on or who Charles Boutin is,:: Jared said. ::I tried accessing information on him but it’s all classified.::
::You’re going to find out soon enough,:: Sagan said. ::Whatever you learn, I want you to remember one thing. At the end of it all, you’re Jared Dirac. No one else. No matter how you were made or why or what happens. I sometimes forgot that about you, and I’m sorry for it. But I want you to remember it.::
::I’ll remember it,:: Jared said.
::Good,:: Sagan said. ::When you see this Rraey they’re talking about, his name is Cainen. Tell him that Lieutenant Sagan asked him to look out for you. Tell him I would consider it a favor.::
::I’ve met him,:: Jared said. ::I’ll tell him.::
::And I’m sorry for shooting you in the head with the stun bolt,:: Sagan said. ::You know how it is.::
::I do,:: Jared said. ::Thank you. Good-bye, Lieutenant.::
Sagan left.
Mattson pointed to the guards. “You two are dismissed.” The guards left. “Now,” Mattson said, turning to Jared. “I’m going to work under the assumption that your little seizure earlier today is not going to be a frequent occurrence, Private. Just the same, from now on your BrainPal is set to record and locate, so we have no surprises from you and we always know how to find you. Change the setting just once and every CDF soldier on Phoenix Station will get the go-ahead to shoot you dead. Until we know exactly who and what’s in your head, you don’t get any private thoughts. Do you understand me?”
“I understand you,” Jared said.
“Excellent,” Mattson said. “Then welcome to Military Research, son.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jared said. “And now, will someone please finally tell me what the hell is going on?”
Mattson smiled, and turned to Robbins. “You tell him,” Mattson said, and left.
Jared turned his gaze to Robbins.
“Uh,” Robbins said. “Hello.”
“That’s an interesting bruise you have there,” Cainen said, pointing to the side of Jared’s head. Cainen was speaking his own language; Jared’s BrainPal provided the translation.
“Thanks,” Jared said. “I was shot.” Jared spoke his own language as well; after several months, Cainen’s English proficiency was quite good.
“I remember,” Cainen said. “I was there. As it happens, I was once stunned by your Lieutenant Sagan too. We should start a club, you and I.” Cainen turned to Harry Wilson, who was standing nearby. “You can join too, Wilson.”
“I’ll pass,” Wilson said. “I’m reminded of a wise man who once said that he would never want to join a club that would have him for a member. Also, I’d rather not get zapped.”
“Coward,” said Cainen.
Wilson bowed. “At your service.”
“And now,” Cainen said, bringing his attention back to Jared. “I trust you have some idea of why you’re here.”
Jared recalled the awkward and not especially forthcoming conversation with Colonel Robbins the day before. “Colonel Robbins told me that I had been born for the purpose of transferring this Charles Boutin’s consciousness into my brain, but that it didn’t take. He told me that Boutin had been a scientist here but that he’d turned traitor. And he told me that these new memories that I’m sensing are actually Boutin’s old memories, and that no one knows why they are coming out now instead of earlier.”
“How much detail did he give you about Boutin’s life or research?” Wilson asked.
“None, really,” Jared said. “He said if I learned too much from him or from their files, it might interfere with my memory coming back naturally. Will it?”
Wilson shrugged. Cainen said, “Since you’re the first human to whom this has happened, there’s no history to go on as to what we should do next. The closest thing to this are certain types of amnesia. Yesterday, you were able to find this lab and recall the name of Boutin’s daughter, but you don’t know how you knew it. That’s similar to source amnesia. What makes it entirely different is that the problem isn’t your own memory, it’s someone else’s.”
“So you don’t know how to get any more memories out of me, either,” Jared said.
“We have theories,” Wilson said.