The Troop

Q: Admiral Brewer, I’d like to ask about your methods regarding Tim Riggs and the five boys who were on Falstaff Island when Tom Padgett arrived.

A: Fire away.

Q: I’d like to know why, during the entire course of the containment, you never tried to contact Mr. Riggs. Or, after his passing, why you didn’t make contact with the boys.

A: For what reason?

Q: To tell them what was happening. To let them know, if nothing else, that their parents were being forcefully detained as opposed to purposefully leaving them there.

A: These points were duly considered and dismissed. We felt—I felt—it was best to institute a “look but don’t touch” policy.

Q: You could have dropped a care package. Food and aid. Or notes written by their parents. That wouldn’t be “touching,” would it?

A: If you’ll check the record of our conversation here today, you’ll recall that I said: Nothing comes, nothing goes.

Q: But does that apply to information, Admiral? A virus cannot be borne on information.

A: But hysteria can. Information isn’t always power. Information can do harm just as easily as ignorance. Say we’d told those boys what they were up against, okay? They may have gone—pardon my French—batshit.

Q: Wouldn’t you concur, Admiral, that based on the evidence of the events as we now know them, that some of those boys went batshit anyway?

A: Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all, yes, I surely can. Listen, tribunals like this get held because of men like me.

Q: Define for our purposes “men like you,” Admiral.

A: I’m talking about men who take a line and hold to it. Some people think that makes men like me inflexible. Hard-assed. At worst, inhuman. It’s true that the decisions men like me make can seem, from an outward perspective, to be that: inhuman. People will always second-guess you. Why did those people have to die? Why those forty-four in the SARS outbreak? Why those kids on the island? Well, that’s fine and I accept all that—the second-guessing, I mean, not the fact that every epidemic is going to have its fair share of deaths. It’s my hope and goal to have zero fatalities. But the fact is that unless men like me make those decisions, the questions asked in the aftermath might be a whole lot different. Instead of why did those forty-four have to die, it’s why did five million have to die? Why did the whole eastern seaboard have to die? At that point, nobody has the luxury of a tribunal. At that point, everyone’s just trying like hell not to get sick.

Q: So you’re saying—

A: I’m saying that the decisive actions of men like me make second-guessing possible. We’re the first-guessers. And sometimes that’s all it is: educated guesswork. We don’t know how bad it might get. We assess the risk, gauge what the collateral damage might be, try to minimize it, and then hold that course. I’m not saying it doesn’t make for some uneasy nights. But it’s what you have to do.

Q: Admiral, I’d like to change course.

A: It’s your circus. You can call the tune.

Q: Wonderful. Admiral, did you know about Dr. Clive Edgerton and his experiments with the modified hydatid worm?

A: Before all this? No.

Q: Remind me: You did sit on the panel of the Board of Safety in the Fields of Communicable Diseases and Epidemiology, did you not?

A: I have, as I’m required to by duty.

Q: So then I find it odd that…

A: Yes?

Q: I find it odd you’d have no knowledge of Dr. Edgerton. I say so because the board—the board you sit on—is very aware of Dr. Edgerton. Two years ago, his name was brought up in conjunction with several other doctors. According to the board, the work of those doctors should be subject to a higher degree of oversight and scrutiny, seeing as their research could pose a significant risk.

A: I don’t go to every meeting.

Q: But they send you the minutes?

A: Yes. I read them as thoroughly as I can, but my schedule is busy.

Q: Admiral, what are your thoughts on the effectiveness of the mutated hydatid as it applies to warfare?

A: I think it’s monstrous. It’s a monstrous question.

Q: Yes, I’m afraid it is, but such questions need to be posed. You say it’s monstrous.

A: I do indeed.

Q: That’s not the question I asked you.

A: I suppose it would be effective as a weapon. In certain, very prescribed situations.

Q: Like on an island?

A: What’s your name?

Q: [name redacted]

A: Well, [name redacted], if you are suggesting that I dragged my feet and somehow used those kids as—as what? Test subjects? If you’re suggesting that—

Q: Admiral, does the name Claude Lafleur ring a bell?

A: No. Why should it?

Q: Master Seaman Claude Lafleur was one of your men.

A: The entire navy is my men.

Q: Master Seaman Claude Lafleur was stationed at the same base you operated out of. Lafleur’s daughter often babysat your children. You’re saying you don’t know Claude Lafleur?

A: That’s right.

Q: Claude Lafleur was a locksmith before entering the navy.

A: You want to hurry this up?

Q: As you already noted, this is my circus, Admiral. I’ll choose the pace. Some time ago, Claude Lafleur was given a four-day executive leave. That leave started the day before Tom Padgett escaped from Dr. Edgerton’s facility.

A: Yes? So?

Q: Are you aware that you signed Claude Lafleur’s leave papers, Admiral?

A: I sign plenty of leave papers. I spend half the day signing papers.

Q: Are you aware, Admiral, that Claude Lafleur’s fingerprints were found on the rear access door of Dr. Edgerton’s lab?

A: You’ll have to speak to someone else about that.

Q: Are you aware that we presently have Claude Lafleur in custody? Are you also aware that Lafleur has some fairly damning things to say?

A: You’ll have to talk to my superiors about that.

Q: Admiral, who are your superiors?

A: [Witness maintains silence]

Q: Are you saying that even admirals take orders from someone?

A: [Witness maintains silence]

Q: Admiral, just earlier you used a term I’d like to revisit. Monstrous. Perhaps you’d agree, Admiral Brewer, that purposefully releasing a contagion would be monstrous? And if Tom Padgett were that contagion, Admiral, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that Falstaff Island could be seen as no less than a giant petri dish, and the events that occurred there no less than an unsanctioned experiment—on children?

A: [Witness maintains silence]

Q: Wouldn’t that just be absolutely monstrous, Admiral? Wouldn’t that be the most inhuman thing you could ever imagine?

A: [Witness maintains silence]