As they approached the vast gymnasium, Lewis pointed out the mixed group of 9 to 11 year old children undergoing their training exercises. "These are the Chicken Hawks, the Young Falcons and the Burrowing Owls - our youngest group of Chameleon trainees. The Young Falcons represent the youngest of the Chosen ones."

Lewis directed Tom's gaze towards the group of children on the far side of the gym. "The Burrowing Owls contain minors of mixed parentage - Homo dominant and Homo sapiens. They're a problem troop and difficult to control. Unlike the older juveniles with similar ancestry, these offspring are different - more independent and volatile."

 Tom found it strange hearing Lewis relate information he should already know. After all, he was a member of the species and a former Chameleon who had been through the programme already. But they had erased his childhood memories. Tom vaguely recalled his feeling of culture shock at finding himself in a similar camp. Scanning his surroundings, he thought, 'Maybe it's the same one? It was 19 years ago after all. I'm not so sure, now.' His memories of the camp then and now didn't quite conform.

Lewis continued. "As Homo dominants do not generally have emotions, they react differently in different situations when compared to Humans and their offspring. They're more distant and cool, and slow to develop friendships with each other or anyone else." Lewis swung his arm in an arc around the camp. "Here we teach the trainees various methods to blend in naturally with the Humans. Since no one must ever suspect who or what is in their midst, these methods must be instinctive or mistakes will happen." Lewis paused and studied Tom's face. "It's imperative we train them in the various empathic sensing techniques, because when their instructor believes they're ready, the children are allowed to mix with the Human children in the nearest cities and towns."

Tom wondered if Lewis was finally going to reveal those missing years, he still suffered from.

Lewis let his former protégé digest this information. "The Chicken Hawks and Young Falcons start their initial instruction together and they're taught blind obedience to their mentor. It's required for their coexistence and unobtrusive infiltration into the various levels of Human society. Any child who fails this basic test fails the Chameleon programme and we return them to their family as a shameful outcast. This in itself is enough of a threat to ensure unreserved compliance."

Lewis acknowledged the question in Tom's eyes with a lift of one eyebrow. He leaned forward, set his elbows on his knees, and scanned the various groups of children. "Having assured conformity, the new trainees continue their scholastic studies with particular emphasis on the main world languages, basic psychology, mental alertness, pain endurance, strategy/memory games, self-defence courses, sensing, masking and shielding. The older training groups are taught the more advanced methods for all these courses."

Lewis glanced back at Tom, making sure he hadn't lost his ailing protégé. "All Young Falcons have their training reinforced by their own mentor and they're constantly tested, as they must be experts in every field." Lewis paused for a second. "While both groups progress, they're schooled in relaxation techniques like visualisation meditation and they're encouraged to debate with their fellow students, thus improving their confidence."

Tom reasoned the purpose of that meditation. The close connection with the self of their psyche allowed them to deal with fear, pain, anger and discontentment. The Chameleon at this point suffered no longer from these emotions and interrogation was useless.

Lewis broke into Tom's reverie. "Remember, we educate and empower the children so that they have a strong sense of self. It's imperative that they know their opinions matter and they have something positive to offer to others." He nodded at the youngest group of children. "That way they truly realise they don't have to depend on or look to someone else for answers. They could handle themselves in any crisis-situation. After all, Chameleons lead a solitary existence."

Tom listened to his former mentor intently, trying to memorise everything. Finally, he was learning something about his former life before the memory wipe and he was filling in some of the blank spots.

Lewis continued. "Individual attention is also given to the Burrowing Owls because of their erratic behaviour. While we make an effort to teach them blind obedience, it isn't an easy process. Whenever this exercise is unsuccessful, we never return the young ones to their parents. Their potential to do harm to both species is exponentially high, and as long as they're under my watchful eye, I can maintain better control of them." Exasperation slightly coloured his voice. "Some of these troublesome children are more demanding than others, but their mentors endeavour to programme each Owl as best he can."

Lewis spied Tom from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his reaction to his next comment. "Wild as they are, the Owls have their uses. They can prove to be quite suitable as young assassins if and when such an assignment materialises." Lewis shrugged his shoulders. "As far as possible, this group follows the same programme as the Chicken Hawks and Young Falcons. If they're lucky, they'll succeed and go on to train as Chameleons. However, some of these obstreperous young Burrowing Owls manage to get themselves injured or caught by the Homo sapiens authorities. If they're really lucky, they'll get killed in the course of such assignments."

Tom and Lewis watched the Burrowing Owls from a distance. 'What?' thought Tom, 'there's Kevin!' Just as recognition dawned on him, Kevin's head twisted in his direction and the boy looked pointedly at him with a malevolent grin. Tom nodded his head slightly, silently acknowledging the presence of the little monster.

Lewis observed the interplay between them and folded his arms. He remarked coldly. "I believe you've met one of our brightest trainee Chameleons - Kevin! He reminds me of you at that age! Very quick, very cunning and quite maliciously cold!"

Tom considered this and smirked. "Hmmm. Is that a fact?" he retorted knowingly. "You'd better keep a close eye on him! I know you'd hate to lose him." Meanwhile, Tom thought, the next time he met Kevin he'd better be prepared for the little fiend. Lewis steered him to the door. Tom caught Kevin's eyes and quietly shut the door on him as they departed the junior gym, as if to say, you don't matter to me.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. 'There's hope. He's beginning to come out of that cocoon he'd built around himself. At last,' he thought. Lewis reflected on Tom's comment a little longer. 'Tom's right, of course. Kevin and his peers are beginning to get out of hand. Pretty soon, I'll have to consider some other means of controlling this unruly set." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "All in good time,' he thought, 'all in good time.'

Ray shook his head dejectedly. "Boy! Do I hate my job sometimes! We're positive the two men in the photo are Tom and Lewis. As unbelievable as it is, these many pictures are proof. Now I've got to tell Sloan." Glancing up at Walter's averted gaze, he stated for the record, "I'd still prefer to wait till we can go up and see for ourselves, gather more evidence and decide on a course of action. It's too important to be wrong."

Walter swung his head toward Ray, but didn't meet his eyes. "You'll have to catch her at home. She's working there today. I'll tell her, if you'd like?" His voice trailed away as he remembered how Sloan had reacted at the first inkling of this news.

"No," said Ray. "I think it might be better coming from me - after what happened the last time. You're not exactly the flavour of the month with Sloan, just now."

John Maxwell looked from one to the other and said, "Ray's right, Walter. Let him tell her. Besides, he can break it to her gently with the news that he's going up there, tonight." Focusing his eyes on his newest NSA man, he said, "I know you're hoping you might still find some hard facts to prove us all wrong, but somehow, I doubt you'll discover it. Perhaps you had better tell Sloan, so she can prepare herself for the worst."

Ray nodded his head in dismal assent. He turned to Walter and said, "Before I leave, we need to discuss the security here at the lab. Walter, are you sure that everyone on the new staff has been fully vetted?" Walter's puzzled look prompted him to say, "What about that young Italian technician? I didn't see her background files. What's her name?"

"Preda... Anna Preda," volunteered Walter. "She's recently finished her Masters Degree in Biotechnology and Bioengineering and came highly recommended by the staff at UCLA. Unless they got to her in College, she hasn't given us any reason to suspect her. Her blood tests show she's Human and she's very interested in our work, especially pertaining to our theories on Oaxaca."

"Hmmm," said Ray slowly, shrugging his shoulders. "I'd still like to check her out. There's something about Preda that bothers me, something I can't quite put my finger on."

"Well, it can't be her species status," said Walter. "Ed's programme will trigger the CPU to shut down, if ever anyone else tries that trick again and tampers with the results."

"I know," replied Ray. "I'd just feel happier to double-check. Have you got her personnel file?"

"Of course," Walter answered. "Fire ahead - it's on a disc in the safe. You know where that is, don't you?"

"He's a very meticulous man," interrupted Maxwell as he contemplatively watched his newest agent depart. "We... you were lucky to get him when you did."

Walter agreed. "Well, you remember he even checked me out. Plus, he's been a great help for Sloan since the beginning." Walter scratched his chin, thinking further. "I'd even go as far to say that Ray trusts Sloan almost as completely as she has faith in Tom and vice versa. I'd even go as far to say that her faith is just as great as Daniels' belief in her." Locking gazes with Maxwell, Walter stated, "Ray's probably the only one she'll listen to these days."

Ray returned just as Maxwell nodded his head in agreement. He looked from one to the other as he said, "Did I miss something?"

"No," responded Maxwell. "We're just saying how lucky we are to have you on the team. If there are any spies in the lab, you'll find them." Nudging his head towards the other room, he asked, "Anything on that new lab technician?"

Ray shook his head warily. "I'm not sure. Something here worries me. Her father was CIA and he was involved at one stage in an assignment which I think you're aware of." He looked at Walter. "Remember August 19^th, 1997? You met with Alexandra Luthor. Two deaths occurred... NSA Agent Fredericks and CIA Agent Smith." Walter's demeanour changed. Seeing him still quite angry over that incident, he quickly continued, "Do you recall the other CIA agent identified as Jones? He was with Alexandra Luthor."

Walter turned white as a ghost. "Hang on a minute. You said Jones?" he spat out bitterly. "I know her deceased father's name was Preda and he was of Italian descent. What's her connection to Jones?"

"Yeah. But Preda is her adopted father's name," explained Ray. "Jones was on a job in Genoa, Italy, in 1976. He met Maria Rosa Preda - a married woman in the Italian Diplomatic circle. He had a very brief affair with her, which lasted a weekend, as far as the summary says. Anyway, Preda got pregnant and had DNA tests done secretly on the baby when she was born, proving Jones' paternity of the child. She contacted him and claimed she would expose him if he didn't meet her terms. If the paternity became public knowledge, it would've embarrassed a lot of important people."

Ray's eyes darted between both men as he continued his tale. "Because of this, they slated the child for termination, but she was too closely guarded. They couldn't kidnap her and blame it on local political crimes. Apparently, Maria Rosa's price for her silence wasn't all that high. Anna must be educated in the States at the top schools and colleges at Jones' expense. As the child grew up, her parents continued to move in the same social circles, until a massive car bomb killed them on their way home from Monte Carlo. Anna was 5 years old. It was supposedly a Mafia hit, but the police couldn't prove it and they never arrested anyone. The authorities placed Anna in the care of a grandaunt, who didn't have the same resources as her parents. Consequently, her grandaunt sent her to the local school in the small village where she lived. Jones apparently kept tabs on her over the years, and there were rumours of a secret trust fund for the child."

Walter and Maxwell were astounded. "Where did you get all that from?" asked Walter shakily. Maxwell wasn't much calmer either.

Ray smiled as he explained. "I would've missed it if I hadn't listened to that niggling feeling I had. About 10-12 years ago, I remember conducting an investigation into the tax affairs of a certain Agent Jones for the IRS and we had access to his bank accounts. The Trust Payment Account came to light and he was able to claim tax immunity with respect to those payments on the basis of his relationship to Anna Preda. He proved in the U.S. Courts that he was her natural father." Shaking his head, he continued, "The court was closed, no in-court cameras or reporters, so it didn't make the media. He was clever enough to manage that. Then, two years ago, he came to police attention again when we were investigating the car explosion that killed Fredericks. We were suspicious because of the similarity between the two explosions."

Maxwell whistled softly as he looked from Ray to Walter. "That's some photographic memory you have there, Ray Peterson. Did you really recollect all that or what?"

"Well, let's just say I was suspicious when I heard the name. For some odd reason, I can still access the police files." Ray chuckled as he imparted, "Lieutenant Quinn obviously overlooked the fact that I still have my password and forgot to change the department records when he fired me!"

"Thank goodness for that," said Maxwell. "Now, what do we do about her... this Preda woman? It looks like Alexandra Luthor had a hand in getting her in here and she could be working for her. If we fire her, it blows her cover and puts us at risk of being set up again by that woman." Maxwell's face darkened as he remembered something Ray had said. "Does Jones have anything to do with Alexandra Luthor these days?" asked Maxwell.

"Yeah," answered Ray. "He joined her motley group of henchmen. She must have made him an offer he couldn't refuse." Ray recommended a new plan. "I suggest you continue to employ Preda, but this time you do the spying and make sure she has no bugs planted here. I'll have my men sweep the place again and pay particular attention to the areas where she has access. I'll see about acquiring a phone tap for both her office and home." Ray chuckled again. "It won't be too hard if I use one of her protectors to carry out the task. She'll be less likely to suspect him than one of the regular techies."

Walter leaned against the wall and thought for a few minutes. "Ray, maybe you had better go over all the staff records. Take over my office if you need to." He shook his head in dismay. "I'd prefer to be sure the rest of the staff is cleared of any involvement with Alexandra Luthor or Lewis. If I missed that girl, I don't trust my own judgement with the rest of them." Walter was rather subdued as he waved his hand in the direction of his chair for Ray to sit there.

"I guess you're right. It's better to be safe than sorry. I'll get on it right away."

"Huh?" said Walter perplexed over the thinly veiled request. "Yes of course, John, sure thing. I'll be right with you." Walter and Ray exchanged wry grins and thanked John Maxwell. Ray sank into his boss' comfortable chair as John and Walter departed. They left him to the peace and tranquillity of the office. He called after his bosses and said he'd visit Sloan on his way home - after he had run the security clearances for the staff again.

Ray started sorting through the records, which were on the same coded disc as Anna Preda's. Luckily, there hadn't been too many people engaged by the Whitney Labs since the last security breach. Maybe it wouldn't take him too long to go over all the files.

Herrschend was trusted, but something nagged at Ray. He was German-born and initially lived in Kirchzarten, in the Black Forest. Herrschend had emigrated to the United States in 1969 as soon as he had graduated from college in Heidelberg. He'd travelled all over the American continent, working when he needed money to support his travels. 'Nothing unusual about that,' thought Ray. 'Lots of students and newly qualified graduates did that.' However, he fiddled with his moustache as he tried to recall another clue from a recent NSA investigation that he was conducting. 'Ah, the trucking company manifests,' thought Ray, excited that he found the connection. 'That was it! Some of those had originated in the SchwarzWald, or the Black Forest. It wasn't his old home-town but it was close enough.' Ray sighed. 'Ah well, I'd better check it out further.'

Ray flagged the data on Herrschend's DNA and moved on to discover other employees who aroused his suspicions. Another couple of staff had worked in the lab for a similar length of time and their tests proved negative. Whitney Labs hadn't conducted new tests on these people, because they were either on vacation or on sick leave when all the trouble arose. In Herrschend's case, it was sick leave.

Ray paused, scrutinising the data while he considered the possibilities here. 'Nah!' he reckoned, 'they couldn't be. I'll have to discuss this with Walter when I return from northern Idaho. It could surely wait till then. It's waited this long.'

As he looked at the clock, Ray suddenly realised that time had flown. It was now after 3:30 p.m. If he didn't get a move on, there wouldn't be time to see Sloan before he left on his trip. With this thought fresh in his mind, he closed the files, removed the CD-ROM, and returned it to the fireproof safe, locking it behind him. Ray noticed Herrschend and another technician working late when he closed the door to the lab.

Morning, 15^th November 1999  

Tom and Lewis moved on to another outdoor training area where the mentors were going through their paces with the children. Lewis explained, "The Ospreys and the Eaglets represent the 12-15 year old Chameleon trainees. Those Chosen ones who graduated from the Young Falcons move on to the Eaglets. Of course, their mentors are assigned exactly as they were in the younger groupings."

Lewis moved on and clarified how the trainees' education intensified in these groups. "Academic and athletic studies proceed to new levels. Although they appear young, we introduce seduction techniques into the course curriculum." Lewis smiled maliciously. "The recruits learn of various manipulations, which can gain valuable information 99% of the time during pillow talk, when their prey's tongues are loose."

Tom's face reflected the fact that he had retained this memory during his education. Seduction of their victims. Lewis had ordered him to use this on Sloan as a primary tool of interrogation when he had originally befriended her.

Lewis grew thoughtful for a few moments. "All students have to master many forms of Martial Arts, T'ai Chi Ch'uan and transcendental meditation. Otherwise, they'll run the risk of detection while on assignment. Remember, muscles can get cramped when our Chameleons are forced to stay still for long lengths of time."

Lewis pointed to one small group of students. "These older children are being taught how to kill young animals with their bare hands." Gesturing to another group, throwing meat mallets and knives, he said, "The trainees in that group are taught self-defence using ordinary household utensils and school equipment as weapons of defence or attack." Glancing at him sideways, Lewis mentioned almost full of pride, "You were always the best student in this class, because of your creativity. You always found the most wonderful weapons from the most mundane household appliances."

Lewis caught Tom's eyes. "Ever wonder about those school riots, fights, bullying or school shootings? No? How about those gang wars or the various infiltrations in the Mafia and Triad organisations? No? Well, we're the cause of many of them. The trainees in this age group are permitted to infiltrate school clubs, societies and sports organisations. Their primary intent is the Humans eventual domination." Shaking his head, Lewis stated, "We sometimes lose some of our most promising Chameleon trainees due to death or very serious injury."

Lewis scanned the group before him. "I get involved with the kids at this point and reinforce the Ceremony of the Chosen programming with some of my own."

Lewis turned to Tom and explained the last group. "The Buzzards are an assembly of young adults up to the age of 35 who for one reason or another need to acquire Chameleon abilities or other special skills. There are also Chameleons of all ages, whose programming forced them to return here because of severe injuries and they need our help to heal. We include these special cases with the Condors and Vultures for their training."

Lewis and Tom turned toward the stage and listened for a while. The current lecture was on Chameleon psychology. The tutor was explaining how a young Dominant would approach a victim with subtlety, remaining friendly and polite at all times. As the victim started to trust the Chameleon, they secured their prey with a few tricks to ensure that no doubts set in and friendship finally achieved.

Tom was very familiar with all of this. His last victim was to have been Sloan and it was well known his tactics had misfired with her. He was subsequently glad they had failed, but right now, his mind was in turmoil and he dared not define his feelings for her. 'Better not. Lewis might sense it.' The lecture ended and the students filed out. 'Talk about saved by the bell,' thought Tom. If the lecturer hadn't dismissed the class at that moment, Lewis would've caught him in the lie he was living. His shielding still wasn't 100% error free.

Tom recalled the elderly man who had been kind to Randall Lynch and himself. He mentally wished him some peace.

Lewis and Tom paused, watching the trainee's session with their sensei. The younger Chameleon thought back to Lewis' explanation of sensing, shielding and masking. While they were terms he was familiar with, he still needed proper training in masking. He had learned since his arrival here that Lewis had ordered his instruction in the technique after he completed that last mission with Whitney Labs. But of course, he'd never returned and he'd muddled through it himself, though not always successfully. 

Tom recalled that each Homo dominant had an innate empathic ability. In Chameleons, it was important that they honed this gift to a fine art. Their survival depended on it. Sensing enabled the Dominant to not only know someone was approaching, but it also allowed them to identify who it was. The technique was similar to visually identifying an individual's identity. The Dominant sensed a person's neurological impulses, which allowed them to perceive emotions such as anger, tension, happiness, joy, fear, and indeed, danger. Tom had once explained to Sloan when she'd first discovered his ability this could be a marvellous advantage, but also a burden.

To preserve their sanity, they also had to know how to shield themselves against a barrage of emotions within their sensing range. The distance varied in Dominants from 40 metres to 500 metres. Someone with a greater range in sensing abilities could sense one with a lower capacity, but not vice versa at that very same distance which separated them.

Like the other empathic proficiencies, shielding was inherent. Ultimately, the Homo dominant had to be able to control both gifts. Thus, two forms of sensing and shielding existed - active and passive. When they were in a passive state and shielding against a barrage of other Human emotions, their survival instinct ensured that a Dominant would always sense danger or hostility directed at them. During active phases, the Dominants are able to sense all of the feelings projected by a Human. They could identify the person they were sensing if they had met them before and were aware of that individual's cerebral electrical pattern - almost as personal as one's DNA code. In both active and passive modes, shielding protected the Dominant from being overwhelmed by other people's emotions. Tom thought this was what had happened to him in the park with Sloan, the day after he had tested Ed's geno-genesis serum. He was experiencing life as a Homo sapiens for the first time and he'd been unable to shield himself from the sudden barrage of sensations around him.

Masking was new to Tom. Lewis explained the process as a Dominant's attempt to misguide another Dominant from discovering their identity. This was useful because not all Dominants believed in world domination. Each Chameleon mastered this skill in the new training programme and it varied to what degree they were successful. The ability was very advantageous, and it took some time to master the talent. Even then, not all Chameleons reaped the full benefit of this instinct. Tom recalled that Lewis had used Lisa as an example. The basic premise for masking was misdirection. Lisa had misdirected or blocked Tom's sensing of her identity when she assassinated the journalist. Tom had been aware of her hostile intent because he resolved this would be her next course of action, but he hadn't been able to pinpoint the culprit.

Tom watched the Vultures and Condors engaging in the bitter cold November air of the Rockies and he shivered.

Lewis glanced quickly at him. "You're beginning to feel the cold, and you shouldn't. We trained you better than that," he admonished. "Go inside and try some T'ai Chi Ch'uan for an hour or so," he ordered. "After lunch, I'll introduce you to someone you'll spend some time with today. Because I've neglected all my duties for the past few days, I'll have to leave you for a while. These Buzzards need my full attention right now. After all, I am the best at what we do and I must teach the others for the sake of our species' survival," explained Lewis softly. "You remember that, Tom."

Alexandra looked up and acknowledged Martin with a nod of her head while she continued her call, "Yes, it looks that way." She indicated for Martin to remain standing. "You'll keep me informed? Right." She watched as her goon shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. She half turned in her seat, averting his stare and said to her secret source, "I may be out of town for a few days, but you know how to reach me. I'm going to be out of range, so use the alternative channels." With this last remark, she loudly slammed down the receiver. She laced her fingers self-assuredly, waiting for her operative to speak.

Martin approached her desk with an air of smugness and blurted, "You were right about Peterson, boss. Yeah, looks like a trip north is in the cards - Canada, to be precise."

She tilted back in her chair and smiled faintly at the pleased look on his face. She replied, "I knew it was the right thing to bug his car, Martin. His home is too well guarded to try planting any devices there." She leaned forward and conspiratorially confided, "I believe they go over the place every day with debugging equipment. We're lucky to have this paraphernalia at all. Blast Attwood!" She swivelled her seat to face the window as she spat out vehemently, "Getting dismissed by the CIA was not part of my overall plan! They have all the latest apparatus and I no longer have access to it."

Martin was surprised at her outspoken honesty. This was most unlike his boss. She must be really hopping mad to talk to him in this way. "Will I make the travel arrangements for Alberta?"

Alexandra twisted around to face her henchman as she answered, "You could do that. Hmm, I suppose a stealth 'copter is out of the question, now?" she added a bit sarcastically.

Her employee again adopted a self-satisfied tone. "I'll see what I can wangle from our usual source. Mind you, it will cost."

Alexandra decided this man was getting a little too cocky for his station and decided to put him in his place as she retorted, "That's my problem. You just acquire it, Martin, unless you want to find yourself lining up for welfare."

Martin backed away meekly as he uttered, "Yes, ma'am. Consider it a done deed!" That was enough. He knew his place. His boss-lady wouldn't hesitate to put her words into action. She wasn't noted for her kind heart. That's for sure. Hastily, he went about his business. He wasn't going to give her any reason to fault him. Welfare would never meet his alimony costs and keep his current paramour in the manner to which she had become accustomed.

Alexandra enjoyed her whimsical threats to the boys. It kept them on their toes and it showed them who was in charge. However, Martin was getting far too familiar. She may have to reconsider retaining him, but then he was cheap compared to what any of her former men would have been asking to remain in her employ. It was only now, when everything had to be accounted for, that she realised what she had lost with the CIA, apart from her pride and some of her connections. Her superior demanded full accounting.

'Oh well,' she thought. Alexandra smiled inwardly at the timely e-mail she'd received within hours of her expulsion from the CIA. Her source had chosen to remain anonymous and offered to continue financing her work in order to defeat the Homo dominant species. However, his offer hinged on the condition that she was as discreet as possible. 'A little difficult at times,' she thought sarcastically. Anyhow, this unknown person had contacted her via his Hotmail alias, Valkyrie. Alexandra received generous remuneration into an untraceable Swiss Bank account, but she had no other means of a return contact other than the e-mail address. She suspected this person must have had some knowledge of her situation and agreed with her tactics.

Alexandra had one great regret though, the loss of her power to reach certain important people. That was a serious blow to her pride and one she would not forget in a hurry. She had a score to settle with Walter Attwood. 'Never fear,' she thought, 'everything comes to she who waits.'

As she judged Walter's actions, Alexandra recalled that fateful night when she'd lost some more of her valuable staff due to his interventions...

Tom's eyes wandered the room. He noticed the training hierarchy prevailed here as well. Recovering Chameleons and mentors ate in separate private dining rooms, screened off from the pupils. He realised this allowed optimum recovery for the injured and some quiet time for the mentors. While the camp permitted alcohol in moderation, it wasn't recommended till evening when most activities tapered off.

Lewis wiped his face slowly and watched his protégé as he finished his meal. "It's time!" The older Chameleon stood and led Tom from the dining room.

Tom tilted his head, curious about this cryptic remark. "What do you mean?"

Lewis shook his head slightly as he replied. "Don't worry, Tom. All will be revealed shortly." Under his breath, he muttered, "In more ways than you might ever imagine!"

Tom decided it was pointless pursuing this line of questioning. Lewis could be quite unfathomable when he chose to be. The pair walked purposely along the hall, towards the Chameleon-Chosen Recovery refuge. As they reached the staff quarters, Lewis took Tom's arm and ushered him into a room normally used by the medical personnel for relaxation between shifts. He gestured Tom to one of the couches.

The well-used lounge area contained many comfortable sofas and armchairs. As Tom made himself comfortable, he noticed a few journals and books thrown casually on two low glass-topped coffee tables. He swung his attention towards his ex-mentor as he caught him opening another door out of the corner of his eyes.

"Wait here. I'll be back in a few moments," ordered Lewis quietly. He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Several minutes later, the door swung open. Lewis emerged with a pretty, young woman about 27 years old, 168 cm. (5' 6") tall and 54 kg (~119 pounds). Her shoulder length sleek black hair, pulled to one side, exposed her sallow Mediterranean-type complexion and bright greenish-grey eyes. Black leather trousers, mauve blouse and lab coat covered her lithe athletic body. She stopped and stared expressionlessly at Tom. No emotion emanated from her, nor her body language and eyes.

"Tom, I'd like you to meet Dr. Avila Briglia. She's a GP here at Nead an Iolair." Lewis turned to the doctor, his hand outstretched towards Tom on the couch. "Avila, meet Tom Daniels. He's my former star protégé who's here on the recovery programme." Lewis noticed Tom's slightly puzzled look. "She wanted to talk with you for some time, after she learned you were here." Lewis walked away and explained over his shoulder, "I'll see you in an hour."

Avila nodded and thrust her hand forward. "Hello, Tom."

Tom hesitated a moment before he responded. Physical contact was still difficult for him, especially after his time in the sensory deprivation tank. Sensing magnified with touch, and because members of the opposite sex always found him attractive for some odd reason, he limited contact of any kind. This was one of the consequences of his time in the tank. His nerve endings in that area of the brain, which allowed him to sense, had been blasted open and they were now painfully sensitised. He recognised his sanity depended on letting no one touch him, physically or mentally. As they shook hands, Tom's sensing ran erratic for moment and he felt something, which surprised him as he thought he'd shielded himself completely.

Tom tried to tighten his shields as he indicated to one of the armchairs. "We may as well sit down." He sat in the chair opposite to her. "Are you on duty, now, Dr. Briglia?"

"No. I finished the first part of my shift twenty minutes ago. And please, call me Av." The doctor in her scanned his body and face. "How are you feeling? You were quite raw when you arrived here over a week ago."

"Well, my physical condition is better than before," Tom replied shrewdly, not quite answering her completely. His face appeared puzzled and he slanted his head to one side. "Have we met already?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "But I was on call the first night you were here. You were having a very restless night and the staff asked me to prescribe something for you. I doubt you would remember, you were so distressed."

"I was in a bad way, wasn't I?" Tom found this beautiful young lady intriguing. She was easy to talk to, compared to Lewis, and he found himself relaxing into the conversation. Av had seen other Chameleons traumatised by their experiences and he knew that she would know how to tread carefully.

Tom discovered she reminded him of Sloan. That thought troubled him slightly as he recalled the way he had left her without saying goodbye. As time wore on after his rescue, he had known something was pulling him away and he believed Lewis was the cause... that some deep programming was at work in him. When he had found himself unexpectedly with alone with Walter, a few days before he disappeared, he privately discussed his concerns and arranged for some undercover work if the inconceivable happened. He had assured Sloan's boss that his loyalty still belonged to their side even if he vanished. It seemed to appease Walter's clearly worried presence.

That night, at Sloan's apartment, when Walter was watching him, he simply had to get away. On the spur of the moment, he'd done what he felt was the best for him and struck Walter, walking away from their protection. Finally, his deep programming had taken over and guided him to Nead an Iolair.

Avila watched Tom closely, analysing him and his mannerisms. She told Tom about her life as a doctor. "I was initially seconded to the WHO and sent to the most out-of-the-way places. I specialised in Tropical diseases after learning about all of the possibilities our species could utilise in our fight for survival. You wouldn't believe what I learned during my last 6 month tour of duty in Ghana." Avila shook her head, smiling slightly.

Time all but stopped for Tom and he relaxed as much as he could in her presence, considering the horrors of his recent past. He stood up and walked over to the window, scanning the grounds. "Av, what did you..." Tom looked over his shoulder and stopped as he discovered she no longer sat on the couch.

The young doctor stood behind him and reached forward, intending to touch his arm. Tom pulled back, making the move look innocent. Av frowned. She pulled her hand back. "Come with me." Av guided him to the Music Room on the first floor and opened the door. "There's something there which may help you."

Tom stopped outside the room and gazed upward. His Chameleon training and innate curiosity forced the next question. "What's on the upper two floors?" Lewis had never shown him those rooms. Security demanded he know what was there, in case of attack.

"Nothing you need worry about," she said. Av urged him into the room.

Tom walked in and stopped short. 'A music room? Why would she think something here could help me.' Tom shrugged and wandered around the lavish Music Room while Av sat at the Grand Steinway piano. Fingering some odd instruments, Tom's attention was pulled back to his companion. Av played a hauntingly beautiful piece. It stopped him. 'It's one of Sloan's favourite songs... Enya's Shepherd Moons. She played it many times, in the car, at the apartment, in the lab.' He suppressed a smile as he remembered that one evening when he surprised her and gave her The Best of Enya CD. Sloan was so happy, she'd hugged and kissed him in appreciation. He'd even grown fond of it and hearing it again, he thought of her. "You play beautifully," said Tom, distracted.

"Thank you," she said. "Hearing Lewis' taste in classical music while I was training here allowed me to pursue my talent in music." Looking up at him, while her fingers stroked the keys, she explained, "As Lewis taught me, we can learn much from the music of man and I've discovered a lot from jazz and classical music."

"Ah, good!" interrupted Lewis, as he boldly strode into the room. "You found your way here." Touching her shoulder lightly, he said, "Our young doctor is a lady of many talents. Since she's here for an extended stay this time, you'll find out what they are." Lewis glanced seriously at Avila and raised his right eyebrow before he caught Tom's eyes. "Did Avila tell you she is also Chosen?"

Avila evaded answering as she looked at her watch. "I'm back on duty for my second shift in 15 minutes. I'll leave the two of you for now, since I want to get a coffee before that."

Lewis' calm face watched her, fully aware of the soothing effect she had on his protégé. As she left the room, Lewis ordered Tom to the gym. "You need to work out some stress and I need to assess your condition. Let's go spar."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," said Tom, jumping at the chance.

Lewis smiled slightly. "After our workout, join me in the library opposite to the Music Room for a few minutes."