Gabriel: Zero Point (Evan Gabriel Trilogy) by Steve Umstead

had apparently done this with many others.
    “Lieutenant?” A voice came from behind him.
    Knowles. He walked up to the tank without acknowledging her and stared inside.  
    “Evan,” she said. “We need to talk.”
    He stared into the tank. It was still wet, small beads of water remained in the bottom. He looked at the nodules along the side, the injectors that had begun the process.  
    “Zero point,” he said.  
    She walked up to the tank and stood on the opposite side. “It’s a lot to take in all at once, I know.”
    He looked up. “How do you know? How many procedures have you done? How many of…of us have died in this damned test?”
    She looked down into the tank before replying, and when she did, her voice cracked slightly. “You are the seventeenth person to come through here. I can name each and every one of them. Fourteen men, three women. To me, you are not weapons, or tools, or hammers. You are people. Each one of you different and unique.” She looked up and met his gaze. “Six died during the test.”
    He ground his teeth together and leaned his forearms on the edge of the tank. The broken skin on his right arm protested as it stretched and began to bleed again. “Six? Jesus Christ. How can you…”
    “Because it works. Because this program can do far more good than harm. Because…”
    “You’re a damned doctor,” he said sharply. “How can you allow patients to die like this, knowing what they have to face? How can you put people through this?” He looked up at the ceiling. “And how many prisoners have died on your watch? Can you name each and every one of them, Moira?”
    Knowles dropped her gaze again and paused for a long moment. “Biermann is a bastard. There’s no other word for him. But he’s right, and he knows what he’s doing. In the long run, this program works, and the product of this program must be tested before it goes into the field and puts other people at risk.”
    He laughed. “Do you hear yourself? Product. It. You’re contradicting yourself, doctor. Either we are people, or we’re tools. Which is it? Do you know anymore?”
    He turned from the tank and stepped over to the table. He reached under it and picked up his boots and began putting them on. He felt a wetness under his shirt, and remembered the mag pistol wound. I’m a wreck, he thought. And this is a successful test?
    “Evan, you have to understand. You of all people. You’ve been through death before, all the way back to your mother…”  
    He spun to face her. “Don’t ever bring up my mother,” he snapped.
    She recoiled at his tone and posture. “I… I’m sorry. I only meant…”
    “Forget it.” He bent over and fastened his second boot, then stood back up. “I know what I got myself into. And you’re wrong. I am a weapon, I suppose. A product that has to be tested. I get it. Don’t worry about your precious tools being damaged.”
    “Wait,” she said. “Listen. I know what I do here is… controversial. But I do it for the best reasons. And you… you’re different than the others.”
    He shook his head and grabbed the water bottle. “Don’t try to flatter me, doc. And by the way, doing it for the best reasons is an excuse some pretty damned terrible people in history have used to justify their actions. You might want to avoid using that phrase in the future.”
    That stung her, he saw. Her face clouded and she wrung her hands. “I know,” she said, and took a deep breath. “I know. But what I said about you… I meant it. There’s something different about you. I’m not even sure what it is. You have a past, you’ve had your share of problems, but…” She took another deep breath. “Heart. You have a heart. I don’t even know how or why I’d say that, but… well, there it is. And I’m sorry.”
    He rocked back on his heels and memories flooded over him like a waterfall. Her words, what she just said to him about heart, were almost exactly what his mother used