CROSSFIRE - Atlantis DSV - New Cape Quest

Banick exhaled slowly and swallowed. “Your timing in telling me this couldn‟t have
been more ill-timed,” he muttered through nearly gritted teeth.
“For what it‟s worth, I don‟t regret my decision. I‟m telling you because I feel I owe
you that as a friend.”
“And what do you expect me to do?” snapped Banick, his patience wearing thin.
“Whatever you feel is appropriate,” Callaghan confessed. “I didn‟t decide this for the
Admiral‟s sake, but for my own. There are things I need answers to - things I probably
should have told you about long before now, but I‟m never going to find the answers here.”
“So you‟re trying to rationalize this? You want to get me to say that I understand your
motives?”
“No sir. I only wanted you to know I am prepared to accept responsibility for my
actions.”
Banick huffed. “Alright. You said you were looking for answers... Answers to what?”
Callaghan took an uncertain breath. For the next ten minutes, he detailed every one
of his startling finds aboard the DSV Proteus nearly two years before, explaining how every
face, memory, feeling, smell and recollection of his supposed service in the UEO Special
Forces in the year 2031 had been a complete and baffling fabrication of his mind. He told the
most painful truth of all – that he had been, in that year, and perhaps longer, an officer of the
Counter Intelligence organization named Section Seven.
All the while, James Banick stood and listened in silence – unsure of what to think,
say or do, letting every word wash over him. He felt pain with every revelation of what
Callaghan had hidden for so long, to all but one man. Admiral Mark Ainsley.
When Callaghan had finally finished, Banick looked away from the most faithful man
he had ever known, and regretted asking the question.
“I‟m sorry, Jim,” Callaghan sighed.
There was a long and uncomfortable silence before Banick looked back at him.
“Does Madeline know?”
Callaghan nodded. “Not everything, but she knows enough. She understands.”
Banick stepped forward, studying his eyes intently. “Is that enough? That she
understands?”
Ryan Callaghan smiled. “After all this, I have to believe it is, because I don‟t have a
whole lot left.”
“...You‟re on your own now, Mark. I‟ve done all I can.”
Ainsley closed his eyes slowly. Before him on the monitor, Jack Riley was a picture of
exhaustion, the dark lines and dulled glint in his eyes adding another ten years to the man.
The Secretary-General‟s reaction was something they had both expected, but that didn‟t
make it any easier to accept. Riley had ridden the line for his entire career, and had been
praised for those initiatives. Times were changing, as those same actions – decisions he had
once been rewarded for – had now broken him.
Frankly, reflected Ainsley darkly, if the UEO fleet truly had become a political
instrument of the Secretary-General and his agenda then he no longer wanted to be a part of
it.
“How long?” the Vice Admiral asked coolly.
“He expects the letter on his desk in a few hours, and I imagine it will be immediately
effective. I‟m meeting with the Joint Chiefs in a few minutes but I wanted you to know,
privately, you have my support. I‟ve already briefed Andrew, but I wouldn‟t expect much
official endorsement on this one. The JCS have their collective heads down after what
happened last night. Cathgate is cleaning house.”
“I understand,” Ainsley nodded. “But if that‟s the case, then is it wise to keep Admiral
Hayes so close to this?”
“The responsibility lies with me,” Riley affirmed. “Cathgate knows that, and needs
support to keep his decision credible. Hayes knows that as well, and he‟s already assured
- 198 -