Except for what? Mark turned the paper over. The back of the page was blank.

What the hell?

Mark grabbed the papers, slammed them into a stack, and stormed down to Jason's temporary quarters. He pounded on the door as loudly as he could.

"Jason?!"

Jason opened the door a crack. The room was dimly lit and it was obvious that he had been true to his word. Jason still looked half asleep. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked at the light coming in from the hall.

"What is it, Mark?" Jason sounded irritated. "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

Mark ignored Jason's request. He whipped off his reading glasses and used them to gesture at the memo. "What's the meaning of this? What do you mean, that's everything except? Except for what?" Mark shoved his glasses into his back pocket and looked at Jason expectantly.

Jason waved a hand in the air and stifled a yawn.

Mark tried to stay calm, but memories kept surging forward: Jason passed out in his quarters, Jason lying still on the hospital gurney, the Chief's voice, raw with emotion, saying that Jason might not make it. He glared at his second.

"Oh, that," Jason finally answered. "Nothing much. I just wanted to tell you in person. Since Zark's minions are going to come looking for this," Jason indicated the memo, "I wanted to make sure you gave it back."

Jason reached for the pages, but he was still sleepy and his reflexes were slower than Mark's. Mark pulled the papers away and held his ground.

"No. Not until you start talking. Now what's going on?"

Jason sighed, admitting Mark into his room with a sweep of his hand.

"You might as well get comfortable," Jason said, gesturing to the desk chair. Mark noticed it was the only bare spot in the room. Dirty clothes and racing magazines seemed to cover every square inch of the floor. Mark stepped over a picture of a buxom blonde sprawled over a hot rod and sat down. He glared at his second, but softened when he noticed that Jason was pacing. Whatever he had to say, it wasn't going to be easy for him.

Finally, Jason turned. "I want you to schedule me for a level E diagnostic."

"Okay …" Mark tried to think of what that would entail and felt his stomach tighten. "Type one or two?"

"One." Jason stopped pacing and looked away. "My hearing is fine."

Good. That's one less thing I have to worry about.

"What's going on with your vision?" Mark said.

Jason shrugged. "Nothing much. Nothing like before. My eyes aren't going out on me, if that's what you're wondering. But …" Jason chewed his lip and studied Mark. "I think I need glasses."

Mark could have laughed out loud. "Glasses? That's it?"

Jason frowned at him, arms crossed. "You don't have to look so smug about it. I could lose my G clearance over this."

Mark made a face and shook his head. "No, you couldn't." Is that why you kept things secret for so long? "Where did you get a crazy idea like that?"

"From you, freaking out every year over the damned eye exam!" Jason thundered.

Mark could feel his face growing warm. He didn't look Jason in the eye when he responded. "It's one thing for the Chief to know that I need reading glasses when my eyes are tired. It's an entirely different thing for ISO to require me to wear glasses." He ventured a glance at Jason's face. "I never wanted to have to wear glasses as part of my standard uniform. I knew that if I was well rested, I could still pass the eye test."

"But the entrance requirements …" Jason looked nonplussed.

"Apply to recruits," Mark said. He smiled at Jason. "No one is going to take your Level G status now."

Jason was furious. "They just about did, Mark. I barely passed the fitness exam."

Mark shook his head. "That's different. Fitness standards apply to everyone. The health requirements are stricter for recruits. I guess once you've seen a few battles they figure everybody has a few war wounds. No one is going to take down the Condor over a pair of glasses. Engineering can always build your prescription into your visor. Besides," Mark added, "you might not have to wear glasses for long anyway."

Jason was still angry, but he gave Mark a curious look. "What're you talking about?"

"Your implant. When it's fully calibrated, the implant should correct for any visual defects you might have. That's what always driven me crazy with mine; the techs can never get it quite right. In any case, I think you would have been wearing glasses a long time ago if you didn't have the implant."

"And you know this how?" Jason unfolded his arms and sat down on the bed.

"From the way your implant failed. There were several things you mentioned in your memo that indicate it was failing in multiple areas over a long time."

Jason recrossed his arms protectively. "Such as?"

"For one," Mark held up a finger, "there never should have been an extended lag time between when you fired up your implant in civilian mode to when you experienced enhanced vision. With my implant, it's almost immediate. It doesn't sound like it ever was for you."

Mark looked to Jason for clarification. Jason chewed his lip and nodded.

"For another," Mark went on, "the lag time you describe at the end of the two-hour implant cycle shouldn't have been something that you noticed. Our implants do recharge every two hours in civilian mode, but that should never have created a perceptible loss of function."

Jason closed his eyes. Mark suspected that he was recalling some particularly devastating loss of vision.

"Finally," Mark continued, "your initial vision loss at the track probably marked the time when the implant began to seriously malfunction. I think you experienced blurriness and problems with your vision when your implant stopped compensating for your nearsightedness. Over time, the implant began to send such flawed signals to your brain that you had extreme vision loss. I think the pulsating visual field you describe in Doc's office resulted from the implant trying unsuccessfully to correct your vision."

Jason threw Mark a quizzical look. "Aren't the implants dormant in civilian mode?"

"Not exactly," Mark said. "I'll do the best I can to explain, but you should really ask the Chief. He's the one who explained it to me." Mark looked over at Jason, who was regarding him rather patiently.

He cleared his throat and continued. "The way I understand it is that the implant primarily functions as a sort of bridge between the central nervous system and the brain. The implant takes in nerve impulses and adjusts them, if necessary, before sending them along to the brain. In birdstyle or when we access the implant in civilian mode, the main effect is to amplify everything except perception of pain: increasing speed, eye-to-hand coordination, visual processing, you name it. That's part of why you never feel relaxed in birdstyle." Mark paused to look at Jason. Jason nodded and gestured at Mark to continue.

"Now, in birdstyle, things are a little different. We also have that external sensor array in the top of our helmets collecting additional visual and auditory data. As you know, this sensor sends a running data dump to Zark. But it also acts like an extra sensory organ, providing data to fine-tune the implant and further enhance our vision and hearing."

Jason shrugged, so Mark continued.

"When not in use in civilian mode, the implant only adjusts nerve impulses if they fall outside of an expected normal range. The other part of what the implant should be doing during those five minute intervals you described is to calibrate against known standards. The idea is that, over time, normal expected values for your body are adjusted for things like growth or weight gain."

Mark looked over at Jason. "Your implant must have been calibrating some, but it clearly wasn't working like it should."

Jason cocked an eyebrow and made a face at Mark. "It's amazing that I could function at all," he said.

Mark couldn't tell if Jason was being sarcastic or not. He settled for not.

"I know. I'm sorry, Jason." Mark looked down at his hands. "Reading over your report, I …" He paused and sighed. "I should have realized that something was wrong a long time ago."

Jason stood up and pointed a finger at Mark accusingly. "Don't go starting that again. I need your pity like I need another hole in the head."

Mark shook his head. "It's not that. It's just … I really appreciate your honesty. I know the Chief will, too."

Jason gave Mark a stricken look. "You're not planning on sharing all of that with him, are you?" He shook his head. "I didn't bear my soul for the Chief's benefit. Most of that stuff isn't relevant now, anyway."

Mark looked away and closed his eyes. Should I tell him? He's been straight with me. Maybe it's time.

Mark took a shuddering breath before turning his attention back to Jason. When he opened his eyes, Jason had fixed him with an odd look.

"What's going on, Mark?"

Mark sighed. "The Chief wants to schedule me for a level A diagnostic. A surgical team is on standby."

Jason swore and slammed both fists on his desk. After a minute, he sat down on the bed, deflated, and reached over to touch Mark on the shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

Mark drummed his fingers on the desk. "I'm not sure," he answered softly, turning to look at Jason. "I guess we'll find out in a couple of days."

"You didn't tell me anything was wrong." Jason tried to sound indignant, but Mark found the irony amusing. He smirked at Jason.

Jason waved a hand at him. "Yeah, I know. Why don't you just set a good example and tell me what's up?" His voice softened. "Don't play hero, Mark. Look what it's done for me."

Mark stretched his legs. "I'd like to talk to you about it. But not here. Meet me downstairs by the mini-subs and let's go to the mainland." He picked up Jason's memo and headed for the door.

Jason gawked at him. "It's eleven o'clock at night."

Mark shrugged. "So what?" I need to talk to you, Jason. I need to talk to somebody besides the Chief. Please don't make me go through this alone.

Jason seemed to sense what Mark couldn't say. "All right. Give me a chance to take a shower, okay? And give me that." Jason grabbed the memo out of Mark's hands.