“Think, Lieutenant,” the man calling himself Jones interjected. “We need you to remember. What did he whisper to you?” he asked. “The last thing you said to him was a translation of a question your captain asked pertaining to why the North Koreans would threaten a nuclear war if they knew they had no capacity to fight even a limited one.”
Kristen vaguely recalled the question and only remembered he died right after she asked him. She closed her eyes, struggling to remember. But as soon as her eyes closed, the painful memories and images were waiting. Dar-Hyun’s accusing eyes still stared at her from the grave. She saw Alvarez’s lifeless body floating in the icy surf. She heard Chief Grogan’s last words about his radio, and then his own lifeless eyes haunting her. She once again felt the gut wrenching fear she’d felt while trying to get away from the rocky shore. The taste of salt water in her mouth, the smell of gun powder…. She’d promised him he’d be okay, and then she’d helped kill him. She thought hard, trying to remember, but the painful images, and the powerful emotions accompanying them, were the only things she could recall.
“I don’t remember.”
“Lieutenant, that is unacceptable,” Malone told her bluntly. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is a matter of extreme importance. We have to know what he told you.”
Kristen looked at the table, straining to remember, frustrated with herself for not being able to recall the conversation. She could clearly see license plate numbers of cars she’d walked by in downtown Groton, Connecticut years earlier. She could recall instantly the exact turn of phrase a second year midshipman had used during her first year at the Academy when he’d tried to ask her out. She remembered everything from the most mundane to the most significant details of her entire life. But as she thought about Choi’s final moments, her mind was drawing a blank. “I can’t remember,” she answered in frustration.
The man calling himself Jones loosened his tie and appeared to be growing annoyed with her. “Dammit, Lieutenant. Think!” Jones demanded harshly.
Kristen looked at him in shock.
But, before she could say a word, Brodie snapped angrily, “Hey!” She’d almost forgotten he was in the room. He’d been sitting quietly throughout her interview until that point. He was now leaning forward in his chair with a threatening finger pointing toward Jones. “That’s enough,” he told the man bluntly, a cold edge in his voice. The veins in his neck bulged and she could clearly see the anger in his face. His eyes were almost glowing at Jones.
“Captain Brodie,” Vice Admiral Malone interrupted. “We haven’t time to simply wait for the lieutenant to remember what happened six months from now.”
Kristen willed Brodie to be quiet. He was in enough trouble already, and she didn’t want to be the cause of any more for him.
“She does remember,” Brodie told them flatly and then looked at Kristen. As he looked at her, his eyes soften slightly. “She remembers everything.” There was a slight pause as they looked at one another. “Don’t you, Kris?” he asked using the name for only the third time. She’d never liked it before when people shortened her name, but it sounded right coming from him.
“I’m trying.”
The assembled group of men stared at Brodie as he, unimpressed by the mass of naval and civilian officials sent to grill him and his officers, stood calmly and turned to the swinging door leading to the galley.
“Where are you going, Captain?” Admiral Malone demanded.
“I’m going to help her remember, Admiral,” Brodie replied simply and stepped through the swinging door and disappeared. Beagler cringed a bit, and Kristen could almost feel Malone losing his patience. Beagler knew Brodie, so Kristen assumed he was familiar with the captain’s eccentricities. But Malone just assumed Brodie was being uncooperative.
With Brodie gone, all of the eyes were again on her. She looked back at them, feeling as if she were back before Congress during the hearings regarding women serving on submarines. The only thing missing was the television cameras. They were all watching her. But instead of looking her in the eye, they were staring at her right hand. She looked down and saw it trembling on the table. She withdrew it and placed it in her lap, determined not to show these men how much she was struggling to maintain the thin veil of calm.
The door to the galley opened, and Brodie reappeared carrying the serving tray Gibbs always delivered her tea on.
“Sean?” Beagler warned.
But Brodie wasn’t deterred as he set the tea service down on the table beside Kristen. “Please, Admiral,” he explained briefly, “the lieutenant and I just need a few brief moments.” He then pulled the chair beside her out and sat down. Kristen watched nervously as Brodie took a creamer of milk and poured a small amount in a teacup. “Just a splash, right?”
“Yes, sir.” She hadn’t realized he’d ever paid attention when she’d prepared her tea. It was such an unimportant thing for him to have noticed. But the realization that he had noticed was comforting. He lifted the simple pot and poured the tea into the cup, careful not to spill any. The men across the table fidgeted with annoyance.
“Captain Brodie…” Malone started to protest, but the civilian beside him hushed Malone with a steadying hand on the admiral’s forearm.
“Ignore them, Lieutenant,” Brodie directed her as he poured his own cup of tea and then handed her cup to her on a saucer. “It’s just the two of us having a little talk, all right?”
Kristen took a sip of the tea, more out of politeness than because she thought it might jog her memory. “Yes, sir,” she answered automatically having no idea what he hoped to gain by this, but at the same time relishing the fact he was trying to help her.
Brodie took a sip and then set his cup down on his saucer. He leaned back with the same relaxed grace she’d seen before in his cabin when the pressures of command had waned. “What do you want to talk about, Lieutenant?”
Kristen might have laughed at the question if the room hadn’t been filled with the men staring at the two of them. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, she hardly knew where to begin. They’d only spoken briefly in the last few days since Korea. Once when he told her to prepare her report, and a second time when he’d made it clear he expected her and the other witnesses to speak nothing less than the complete truth. Thus, the chance to speak with him was something she’d been hoping for, but hardly in front of a group of strangers. Kristen forced her personal thoughts aside, knowing what he was referring to. She desperately wanted to remember, if for nothing else than because he wanted her to. “I can’t remember, I’m sorry.”
Brodie nodded in understanding. “That’s all right, Lieutenant. I can’t remember what we had for breakfast this morning,” he said soothingly. “But, maybe we can start with what you do remember.”
Kristen glanced at the men across the table. They were no longer squirming but watching intently. She hated the feeling of being under the microscope but had endured it before when necessary. However now, with Brodie next to her, she felt the usual discomfort somewhat lessened. He would protect her; she knew it instinctively now.
“Kris,” he said softly. She turned her eyes back to him, loving the way those four letters sounded as they came off his lips. “Don’t worry about them,” he reminded her gently. “It’s just you and me.”
Kristen nodded, her hand trembling in her lap. “Okay,” she replied with a voice sounding suddenly small.
“We were in sickbay,” he prompted after several moments of silence.