"Well, some of them reconnoitred around the town and asked some questions. The bar owner was a bit unresponsive, but he gave an overall impression that these people from the rest home shouldn't be bothered. He felt they're a force to be reckoned with, something unnatural."

"What!" interrupted Ray, startled.

"Al Hunter, the owner, never really answered our questions about the home, but he gave my agents an impression there was something peculiar about it. As he didn't want to disappear mysteriously, he shut up quickly when some customers entered the bar." Tony paused for a minute, letting everything register with Ray. "The rest of the town was just as uncooperative and not very typical of small town atmospheres, where everyone knows everyone." Tony pulled a chair out, and sat next to Ray. He sighed heavily and crossed his arms, contemplating the townspeople's attitude. "I wonder what happened to change that there?" queried Tony.

"Damn," muttered Ray. "Well, our MOS's photos observed more of Tom and Lewis interacting and training together. This really isn't looking any more clarified now than it did a while ago. If I didn't know any better, those MOS's photos support our suspicion that Tom is undergoing training and that he's returned to his people. I find that really hard to believe, as he hates Lewis and his whole Chameleon programme."

"So what the hell is going on?" whispered Tony, very worried.

"I don't know, but I intend to find out." Ray sighed. "I owe it to Sloan and everyone who trusted Tom."

Tom placed his hands behind his head and reflected on the events of the last five months. It was strange, but this was the first time he had been able to think about it without the searing pain and headaches. Content, he thought about Sloan, his beautiful, headstrong and highly intelligent woman, whose sensuous and emotional nature had pulled him close to her side, held him loyal to her. Right now, he missed her. He recalled those last few nights in her apartment were quite excruciating for him because her love had triggered such intense physical agony. He had shut down, locked her out, all thanks to his time in the sensory deprivation tank. His poor overloaded nerve endings had been quite literally flooded with sensations he hadn't been able to control nor block, and thus, had blasted himself even rawer.

Tom sighed. She loved him. He knew that, since his short time as a Human allowed him to taste that love. It also gave him a peek at the depth of his feelings for her as well. That wonderful fateful day, he dared to think he might have a future with her. He had wanted to hold her, kiss her gently, passionately and perhaps dare make love with her as he knew she had wanted. It had been so overwhelming.

Suddenly, his life had been shattered that evening when Alexandra Luthor had snatched him. In one fell swoop, Tom had lost Sloan and all of his newfound Human friends. They stole his new life from him even before it had begun. Now he wasn't sure if he could ever get it back, not in the way it had been. Too much had happened to him and from the photos he'd seen a few days earlier, possibly to Sloan as well, and all more than likely orchestrated by Lewis. Until there was an opportunity to see her and talk to her, he couldn't possibly gauge what future they still had together. So much depended on what transpired here at Nead an Iolair. His need for healing, that only his species could handle, and Lewis' plans for him afterwards.

As Tom considered this, he hoped his aches were in his past. He didn't know if the reprieve was temporary or not. Whatever Lewis had put in his drink, it was still washing over him in waves from time to time.

After his meeting with Lewis, Tom had found Av in the refuge clinic. She was shocked to see the state he was in and had promptly cleansed and dressed his abrasions. When she had finished, she'd promised to call and see him later that evening to check on his condition.

His next visit with Sharon, the psychiatrist, was also beneficial. They had arranged for daily consultations while he remained at Nead an Iolair. With a sigh of resignation, Tom accepted that Lewis would be involved every step of the way, developing a remedy so that he could overcome his pain and phobias associated with his empathic abilities.

"Are you with me, Tom?"

The Chameleon appeared deep in thought, completely distracted by them. As Lewis' voice finally registered, the younger Dominant snapped his attention back to the present. He sat up and quickly answered, "Sorry, Lewis." He straightened and looked expectantly at his former mentor.

Lewis had been anxious to bring his former student up to date as speedily as possible. Time was of the essence now if they were to achieve all by the date where he'd need Tom's services as a Chameleon. 'November 30^th, not much time,' he thought. Staring pointedly, he continued, "I've already told you that I'm the authority here at Nead an Iolair and I control everything that happens here. But that's not all. We Chosen ones have a place in the Grand Plan for our species, a special duty to perform. Today, I'll tell you about my position and, if all is well, then I'll reveal yours as well."

The older Chameleon observed the change in his protégé since the previous day. Obviously, the designer cocktail still ran in Tom's system, as he appeared more rested and less fidgety. "Kewleys Comet appeared in our night skies again on October 18, 1999. We centred our plan of attack to coincide with the re-appearance of this comet because we needed time to get organised and prepared. That night was very important in the Homo dominant calendar, because that night the Chosen ones from worldwide locales converged and we set the wheels in motion for our domination of this planet. From your life as a Chameleon, you already know we've begun infiltrating every part of society from Government levels right down to the most basic neighbourhood resident associations and youth groups."

The Chameleon leader leaned forward and strongly emphasised, "There isn't an organisation, union, club or fraternity where we aren't represented. Every tactic was used so that our Chameleons could ease their way into positions of power, either by legitimate appointment or by dubious means. In the near future, we'll be so well ensconced the Humans will have great difficulty in retaining control of their planet-wide dominance. Our Chosen ones in these key positions are waiting in the wings, so to speak, for our signal." Taking a gulp from his bottle, Lewis leered as he announced, "We will be a force to be reckoned with."

The older Chameleon basked in the glory of his ability to shock people and in this instance, his protégé. He arose to his full stature and smiled malevolently. "Tom, we initiated the operation for full infiltration of all the arms and defence weaponry divisions worldwide. We are the corps who'll secure for our descendants the legacy of this entire planet. When we're near readiness, I'll be appointed Secretary of the U.S. Armed Forces, Supreme Commander for the United Nations' World Forces and the future Director of Security for the U.N." He watched for a reaction from the younger Dominant. He wasn't disappointed, as Tom's passive shielding slipped and he couldn't quite hide his response to this incredible news. Of course, Lewis picked up on everything.

Tom was somewhat shocked. Strengthening his shields, he couldn't believe his ears, the news that his species had managed to get so far, unless, of course, his mentor was bluffing. 'It wouldn't be beyond Lewis to exaggerate or lie to achieve his aims. Still, it's a frightening thought if all of the Chosen-Chameleons took a similar stance to my mentor regarding coexistence.'

As Lewis' stance changed slightly, Tom knew too late that the game was up. He made an effort to minimise the damage caused by his carelessness. "You never cease to amaze me, Lewis! How on earth did you plan to achieve all of that?"

"Ah, but Tom, that's where you come in," Lewis confided derisively. He raised his hand, forestalling Tom's questions, "details of which you'll learn soon enough. We don't want a repeat of yesterday's occurrences, now, do we?" He threw back his head and laughed mockingly.

Lewis was such a master at charades, he was almost beyond Tom's belief. 'One minute he could be so comforting and helpful, and the next... well...' Tom stood and grabbed the water bottle, discarding the remaining contents in the sink. He retorted irately, "If you have quite finished for today I have other matters to attend to."

Tom didn't move. The internal struggle was evident in the tight muscles running along his back. Slowly, he turned around and faced Lewis. Only his eyes blazed on his face, which was set in stone. "Count yourself lucky, Lewis, that you never saw the inside of that sensory deprivation tank. Believe me," he stressed, "you probably wouldn't be here now. I owe my life to those two scientists who helped get me out of there and subsequently to those in Whitney Laboratory. The initial care I received there after they rescued me and saved my life. Oh, I'm sure if I'd found myself here in the hours following my deliverance I'd have been in good hands too, but I mightn't have survived the journey to get here, I was in that bad of shape."

Tom's eyes darkened as he addressed the Chameleon leader. "You've no idea, have you? What it's like, submerged in warm water, in complete darkness, no sound, no feeling, no nothing. Only your empathic senses reaching out, seeking, and searching, and finding nothing, except the emotions of every Human within your range... all barging in on you at once. Overloading your control of yourself, your shielding to such an extent that it hurts sensing others now. Can you imagine that, Lewis? Can you?" Tom's deadpanned expression emphasised his temper more clearly than, if he had shouted.

Tom found release as he told Lewis of his soul-destroying experience at the hands of Alexandra Luthor and her assistants. He described the barrage of his senses amplified to the nth degree. "Imagine a power overload at an energy supply station. That's similar to what happened. After time, I must've passed out from the sheer bombardment and pain." All the while, he had been standing near the drinks cabinet area with his arms folded tightly about himself and his head lowered. It was as if he was trying to hold himself together.

Tom looked the older man full in the eyes as he stated, "Count yourself lucky to have escaped that woman's clutches when you did, Lewis. You can be sure you'd have ended up in that tank too. Just remember, I had the added advantage of youth. At your age, you may have gone into cardiac arrest before anyone could've rescued you." As he made this remark, Tom smirked, showing Lewis that he had met his match in sarcasm.

Lewis shook his head, a bit tauntingly. "Well, Tom. That was fascinating and I'm sure it was a relief for you to offload that saga. You're probably right, though. I certainly don't have the edge of youth on my side, but I do have something else. I am more disciplined than you and..."

Tom abruptly interrupted him and politely but self-assuredly pointed out, "You think that would work in your favour? That's where you're wrong, Lewis! The stronger you are, the more dangerous the experience in the tank." Only Tom's eyes blazed as he maintained the dead tone of his voice. "Think about it, Lewis. You've no perception of anything but the Humans' emotions and unless you are totally without empathic ability, you cannot escape the effects of that tank."

The Chameleon leader deliberated on this judgement. He had to admit the younger man had a point, but it wouldn't do to let him win this argument. He'd already scored brownie points with his remark about his age being against him. 'No. I'm going to have to show Tom who's in charge here, even if he is correct about the tank.'

"Touché to you again, Tom." said Lewis, his voice reflecting a barely concealed irritation. He changed the subject with a slight air of authority. "At the end of the day, you still need to heal and perfect your empathic skills. So let's not waste any more time here, shall we?"

With this remark, the senior Chameleon sprang from his chair and approached Tom, reaching for his shoulder. The ex-Chameleon anticipated the move and instinctively backed away. He was still fearful of anyone touching him and crashing through his defences.

Lewis sneered and taunted, "See what I mean? You need to overcome this paranoia, Tom. You need this defence if we're to win our rightful place at the top of the food chain." This time he succeeded and grabbed Tom by the shoulder. Lewis guided him in the direction of the door. Looking at his protégé out of the corner of his eyes, he asked, "We'll start with proper training in masking. If you're determined enough, you'll master this art in no time."

Tom assented with a nod of his head and then muttered, "Fine. Let's get started."

The leader noted the acquiescent change in the younger man's tone. Tom was over his bout of brashness. He smugly announced, "Tomorrow I'll fill you in on what you need to know about your future role." They reached the door and Lewis shoved Tom out of the Library. "Time is of the essence here and you have a lot to learn, yet," said Lewis as he shut the door.

Ray walked quickly into his boss' office and slammed the door shut behind him. Extreme anger radiated from him and the controlled movements of his body attested to the degree of it all. "Cut the crap Walter! There's something very fishy going on with this so-called desertion of Tom back to his species. It just doesn't add up."

Walter sat back in his chair and gripped the armrests. The time had come. He knew that Ray's excellent investigative sense might see the inconsistencies of his behaviour regarding Tom's defection. "What do you mean?"

"Tom hated Lewis and everything he stood for. Now he acts like he's his next best friend. Then there's your reaction to this. Never once did you appear truly worried about Tom's traitorous conduct." Ray paced the length of Walter's office and turned around. "Oh, not everyone noticed, since you're a master of disguise, but my radar went up early. You never expressed horror, or regret, or outrage, or disappointment, or the usual range of emotions associated with someone you trusted defecting to the other side. You went through the paces, but not believably in my eyes or years of experience. It was as if you weren't sure of Tom's duplicity. It appeared you knew this may happen, but some of Tom's actions didn't seem quite right. What happened? Did Tom go too far underground and you aren't sure of his allegiance anymore?"

Walter sat stunned. Ray almost hit on the truth. He wasn't sure of Tom's loyalty anymore, because this went beyond what the ex-chameleon had explained might happen if he disappeared. Walter hoped for the best, but he had to play out the scenario, just in case Tom still acted on the Homo sapien side of this war. His life depended on it. Walter carefully placed his palms flat on the desk and looked Ray square in the eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about Ray. I sure as hell didn't know that Tom would defect. I would've stopped him long before this ever happened because of all the sensitive information he holds regarding our group and our defences. Do you think I'm crazy, or have a death wish?"

Ray's eyes bore into his boss's and tried to decipher the enigma of Walter Attwood, mystery man in the NSA. Even now, with all his clearance, he couldn't find any background information on him and this bugged him. What was so sensitive in his background that it had to be hidden? Ray's anger deflated. "No, I don't think you're crazy. What you said makes sense. What Tom did... doesn't."

Walter stood up and approached his new friend. Laying a hand on the ex-detective's shoulder, he ordered, "Go back to the base camp. Observe Tom and get me some answers. Fast."

Ray nodded and headed towards the door. Halfway out, he paused and twisted his head around. Staring his boss straight in the eyes, he stated earnestly, "This is not going away Walter. Someday soon, you're going to have to explain your actions. I would stake my reputation on the fact that you know more than you're letting on regarding Tom, but for now, you have a reprieve." On that ominous note, Ray turned on his heels and exited Walter's office.

Walter closed his door and leaned back on it in relief. 'That was too close,' he thought. 'One day soon, Ray will demand those answers, so if I don't want my cover blown sky high, I'd better have a plausible explanation before he returns.' He shook his head and shrugged. 'I should've known Ray would've seen through the facade.'

Ray wasn't happy to accept his boss' orders without question, but he decided, 'You've won this round Walter. I knew going in, it wouldn't work, but I had to take a chance and try getting to the bottom of this thing. Walters knows more than he's prepared to admit and that bugs me.' Ray hurried out of the Whitney Laboratory building, a look of determination clearly etched on his face. 'Hmm, maybe a different approach might work.' Smiling sardonically, Ray concocted his next plan of attack.

Routine meetings between the pair had increased to twice a day. Lewis didn't have much time before the ultimate test of Tom's loyalty. His rogue Chameleon's future role in their plan was important, and as such, Lewis needed as much time as possible, teaching his protégé masking and finally allowing some time for healing. He was determined not to overload the younger man's mind with too much at a time, so he opted to spread the essential elements over several discussions.

Tom was pensive as he waited for his mentor to reveal the subject for this morning's discussion. He was considering whether to broach a topic that had been plaguing him ever since he'd met Sloan and possibly before that. He finally decided it was time that he faced the Chameleon trainer with his concerns.

He got up from his chair and paced the floor before he finally stopped in front of Lewis and folded his arms. He held his head high, pushing out his dimpled chin and gazed down under partially closed eyelids. "Tell me something, Lewis. Why was it necessary to erase all of my childhood memories when I was 11 years old? Before you tell me otherwise, my mother already explained that it was necessary to prepare me for what I had to do. Was it part of my Chameleon training, all Chameleon training, or was this particular procedure reserved for the Chosen-Chameleons?"

The camp director leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and extended his arm, palm out, forestalling Tom from asking any more questions. He opened his eyes as he interjected quickly, "So many questions. Why now?" Lewis folded his arms and tucked his right fist under his chin with his thumb and forefinger stretched along his jaw line as he waited for the other man to answer.

The younger man suddenly realised that his mentor would only answer if it suited him and then he could very easily reserve some of the answers. 'There was just no telling with Lewis what he might do or say. The Dominant leader was a law onto himself and as unpredictable as the weather.' Tom resigned himself to the fact that he may very well be wasting his time.

Tom remained standing as it somehow injected an air of authority into what he had to say. After all, Lewis himself had taught him that people are more inclined to take notice of what you have to say if you are standing up - that is, if you wanted to command their attention. Taking a deep breath, Tom spoke with more confidence than he'd shown in a while as he replied quietly to Lewis' questions, "I suppose I've always wondered about these things. I see children playing with each other, interacting with other kids and with their mothers. I've tried over the years to recall my own childhood and each time I drew a blank at my life, before my Chameleon training. Why were my childhood memories so dangerous to know? What is it that you're hiding from me? The Pillar? My tattoo? Programming or some other Ceremony that is buried so deep in my subconscious I'll only remember it when it suits you or the High Council?"

Lewis stroked his cheek with his forefinger as he contemplated Tom's questions, some of which were quite valid. Some needed thought before they could be revealed while others, not so. For many reasons, he wouldn't answer, no matter what. The silver-haired Dominant sat upright and using the arms of the chair he arose to his full height. He addressed him quietly. "Okay, Tom. I can see you won't rest till at least some of these queries are resolved for you, but you must understand there were some very convincing reasons why these things happened and some of that logic is still true today." He moved about the room as he spoke, but his voice was so clear and resonant that every word was distinct despite his low tone. Turning to face Tom, he clasped his hands behind his back with an air of confidence, thereby reasserting his superiority. As though granting a concession, he said, "After your visit with Sharon this afternoon, we'll meet in the grounds near the summerhouse. I'll answer some of your questions then. Okay Tom? Right now, we need to concentrate on masking techniques and your future role."

The former Chameleon was relieved that there was a distinct possibility that some of the musings, which had worried him for years might finally be explained. Still, it was best that he didn't raise his hopes too much. This was Lewis he was dealing with, Lewis who couldn't be trusted too much or for too long despite the older man having helped him to come to terms with his trauma and catatonia.

Tom thought about his loyalty to his former mentor. These days, it was a real love-hate relationship; wavering constantly, one minute he felt he could place complete trust in the man, and the next he felt a need to watch his back. As before, he figured they each walked a tightrope because of their mutual need of one another. Tom shrugged his shoulders as he answered him, "It doesn't look like I've got much choice. This afternoon about 4:00 p.m.? Does that suit you, Lewis?"

The Dominant leader half smiled at his protégé as he retorted, "Yes." Lewis started back towards his chair and sat down. He gestured to Tom to do the same. He laced his fingers in front of him. "Please sit down now, Tom. I need your undivided attention this morning. We're about to discuss your future in the Dominant regime. I think you're ready to hear about your forthcoming responsibilities."

His protégé walked silently to his own chair and sat gracefully. Making himself comfortable, he eyed Lewis as he opened a file, which he had brought with him. 'So,' mused Tom, 'there's some hard copies of this data. That's handy to know. You never can tell who might be interested in seeing that.' He was being extremely careful these days, shielding his thoughts, especially those he had harboured about Lewis.

As he briefly scanned the file, Lewis was silent until he had closed the document and placed it on the table. Looking directly at Tom, he stated, "Since your arrival here, you've no doubt noticed that we've also had some very distinguished visitors from foreign shores. These people will feature very prominently in our future international hierarchy, as indeed you will also. It's ideal that you're all here together as you will have an opportunity to meet one another next week sometime."

Lewis tapped his finger on the file. "Regarding your own role in our future regime, it's quite an immense one. You and I are destined to be linked to one another within the Dominant government here in the United States and, if certain other plans work out, possibly on a much wider scale. You see Tom, you're slated for the position of the President of the United States." Appropriately, Lewis paused here for effect.

Tom was stunned into silence. As the words sunk in, he now understood why Lewis had pursued him so intensely and why he had killed Lisa and not him that evening he had first rescued Sloan. Tom simultaneously realised if he had been fully recovered, he would've been able to assimilate this astounding news, as a Chameleon should have, stoically, with no emotions.

Finally, Tom relaxed as somewhere deep within his subconscious he found the strength to react. Managing to block any qualms he had about the acceptance of his role, he eventually replied, "President of the United States, you say? That's certainly a challenging duty, but how do you plan to ensure my position? The United States is a democracy, in case you've forgotten."

Lewis gazed at his protégé, gratified at his apparent acceptance, despite the original shock. He assured him, "You won't have to worry on that account. We'll take care of everything, I promise you. Mind you, you'll have a small matter to attend to when you leave here which will set the plan in motion. It's nothing you can't handle, assuming of course, that you're fully fit and ready to resume your Chameleon role."

Tom smelled a rat here but blocked his suspicions well. He smiled inwardly at his obvious success in winning Lewis' confidence in him and quickly asserted, "Of course, Lewis. I'll be ready after I've perfected this masking skill some more. Physically, I feel great and that mem-alert energy drink that Sharon prescribed is already doing wonders for my psychological problems. They've eased a lot in the past forty-eight hours."

"Good news, Tom," Lewis replied indifferently, never doubting their abilities. "I must admit, I had serious doubts about your ability to heal after you psyched out here the other day." The senior Dominant stood up and fully stretched his arms upwards, clearly alleviating his knotted muscles. He breathed a sigh of relief as his muscles relaxed.

'At last,' he thought, 'we're on the right track here. Unless he's extremely clever and has outwitted my extraordinary empathic powers, Tom's finally come to his senses and returned to the fold.' As he considered his protégé's possible deception, he quickly put it out of his mind. 'Nah! He's still too fragile to shield that well,' reflected Lewis. 'And we're still trying to perfect masking, so there's just no way he's deceiving me. If he is, then we're in a lot more trouble than I dared to imagine before. If ever he betrays us again, I'll have no options left.' He chose not to dwell on those implications or its consequences.

Tom had taken a walk in the gardens following this most exceptional meeting. He figured he'd heard it all the day before when Lewis had unveiled himself in those many positions of power. Now he found himself in awe of the Dominants' plans for himself - President of the United States, no less!

Lewis had also implied there might be even greater responsibilities, as if the portfolio of U.S. President wasn't enough. Tom deliberated on what that might signify. 'What else could he possibly have meant? If only I could get my hands on that file. I'm sure it contains a gold mine of Intel, which would be extremely valuable to the Homo sapiens. Lewis had carefully ensured that file was tucked safely under his arm as they'd left the Library and it was highly unlikely it would be kept anywhere other than a secure safe depository. But who knew where that might be in this huge complex.'

Ever since he'd started taking Sharon's mem-alert energy drink, he could think of Sloan and the feelings she brought to the surface. Sometimes these feelings were completely shattering and he had to block them out. Tom sighed, as he knew he'd have to resolve what Lewis had shown him, but until he was ready, the best way to deal with them was to force himself to think of other things. He didn't really believe what Lewis had tried to feed him, but still... why didn't she say something? Sometimes Av's company helped ease these times. Her friendship was greatly appreciated and she masked her feelings well, if she had any for him. He warmed up, resuming his exercise and working up an appetite for lunch. As he did, he noticed Lewis in the distance, coming from an outdoor assault course. The group of foreign dignitaries closely followed him.

Tom arrived as the evening light started to diminish. He found his mentor sitting on a garden seat, feet outstretched in front of him and his head thrown back, his eyes barely closed. He was obviously lost in his own thoughts and enjoying a breather from his busy schedule as director of the complex. The young ex-Chameleon approached and he knew that Lewis was aware of his arrival despite his apparent apathy. He seemed to thrive on his pretence of disinterest, and Tom was beginning to tire of it. However, he shielded well and stood, aloof, apart from his mentor, lest Lewis read his body language yet again.

Sure enough, without opening his eyes or moving from his relaxed position, a disembodied voice addressed Tom, "Ah, you've arrived." Lewis lazily opened one eye. "I assume you've come for your answers?" The Dominant leader stretched his arms over his head and sighed long and hard, relieving some built up tension. Sitting up, he adopted a more alert pose in readiness for the question and answer session. However, he smiled inwardly as he considered that his protégé would be going away with very few of those solutions he so anxiously sought. He folded his arms and looked the younger man in the eye. "Okay, shoot, Tom. You ask and I'll decide if you need to know."

"Being cryptic again, Lewis? You really enjoy these mind games, don't you?" Tom smiled briefly as he sat down next to his mentor and stared back at him.

"Don't you know I thrive on them?" He threw his head back and laughed mockingly. "It's part of who I am, Tom. You, of all people should know that. Anyway, we're wasting time. What do you want to know?"

"How about starting at the beginning, Lewis? Why was it so important that all my childhood memories were wiped from my memory and why so secretive about the reasons for it all?" Tom watched his mentor closely as he awaited his response.

"Well, Tom, that's the problem. Because of our Chameleon-assassin program and our ultimate plan of domination, it's imperative every child concentrate, solely on their training. If they remember their life before the programme, the new trainees would be distracted from learning and completing all we asked of them. Therefore, we cleanse the children of their memories." Lewis paused, taking a deep breath, letting this sink in. "Certain things are central to our society's rituals, especially regarding the choice of our future leaders. In time, you will learn about these rites. But, only when you are ready. Unfortunately, Tom, that is not now. Next question?

The silver-haired Dominant stretched his arms along the back of the garden seat and tilted his head to look up at his protégé in a manner not unlike the way Tom sometimes gazed at him. He was unfazed and replied, dryly, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Tom. But believe me, you're not ready for the answers you want. The right time will come and I'll be there to reveal all you need to know."

Lewis released his arms and laced his fingers behind his head as he continued, "I'll tell you this much. As your mother already told you, we share a common ancestry with Homo sapiens and that in itself, is a problem. We all carry the genes of our forebears and naturally some of us are more susceptible to emotions than others."

Lewis stood up abruptly and leaned towards his protégé. He whispered with a touch of intrigue, "Tom, I strongly suspect that you're one of these people and you must make a determined effort to bury that facet of your psyche. If you don't, you won't be able to function successfully as a Chosen member of our species. You have certain duties to attend to, and believe me, emotions are a serious disadvantage to you in this capacity. Lose those feelings Tom, for Sloan Parker and any other of those Humans you've bonded with in that lab. They're dragging you down Tom, and eventually you'll be useless for the aspiring appointments we have in mind for you."

Tom had chosen to remain silent throughout this tirade. He'd not bothered to sit down again, preferring instead to stand with his arms folded tightly. He observed his mentor's body language for any telltale signs of his hidden thoughts. He realised Lewis was only telling him what he already knew. Perhaps his mentor really thought that by reminding him of his vulnerability, he might somehow persuade him to change. The carrot he dangled before him was the promise of his future role and all that it entailed. "Are you finished, now, Lewis? Because if you are, I think I'd like to hear some of those answers. What about it? Why so much cloak and dagger about this thing? Can't you tell me that, at least?"

"Since you persist, Tom, I must tell you I've thought long and hard before reaching this decision," Lewis replied, matter-of-factly. "I've already told you I need to be sure of your loyalty to our cause. The revelations you're insisting on are highly confidential. I cannot possibly risk allowing some of our strictest and most guarded secrets to be divulged to someone who's betrayed his species. I know," the leader sighed gravely, as he continued, "I'm taking a chance by even confiding some the intelligence I've already given you. So be it. We all have to make some difficult choices."

Lewis paused to evaluate the younger man's acceptance of the situation. Then the silver-haired Chameleon trainer looked his protégé in the eye as he declared ominously, "This is different Tom. You don't need these facts in order to carry out your immediate duties. Once you've proven to us that you're sincere in your desire to succeed along the path we've singled out for you as one of our Chosen leaders, then we'll discuss these matters again."

Tom appeared ready to protest. Lewis stopped him quickly. He shook his head slowly and continued, inflecting a slight air of regret into his tone, "In the meantime, I'm sorry, but you already know far too much, especially if you were to turn traitor again." The senior Dominant rose abruptly and approached his former student. He placed both of his hands on Tom's shoulders and gripped them firmly as he spat out, "Tom. If you ever give me reason to doubt you again, your life won't be worth living. In fact, you'll be hunted down and the consequences will be most tragic." On this menacing note he released Tom and sat down heavily.

Clearly, Tom learned as much or as little as his mentor intended him to learn and any further probing was only a waste of time.

Tom savoured his time-out, but he sensed that he was not alone this damp morning in late November. "I was expecting you to approach me one of these days, Kevin, but not quite in this manner," said Tom as he spun around, almost knocking the boy over when the little monster dived towards him with a Swiss Army hunting knife. Kevin cursed when he suddenly realised Tom was a lot stronger than he had anticipated. "I see you still underestimate my abilities. Now that will be your downfall, Kevin," admonished Tom.

Kevin struggled to regain the knife, which Tom had seized. He held the boy firmly without being rough. Having pocketed the weapon, he crouched down so that their faces were now on a level with each other. Tom glared at him intensely. The struggling boy returned the stare, implying his reluctance to admit defeat.

"I see you are a stubborn little brat. You know you are going to have to control that little temper of yours if you plan to be a Chameleon." Tom maintained his firm grip on Kevin's arms. He squeezed slightly, gaining the boy's sullen attention. "And another thing, we don't attack our own kind unless we're under orders to do so. Now I doubt that you have been given such an assignment." Tom smiled coldly.

Kevin flinched. "Okay, I'm sorry, Tom. I mean Mr. Daniels. I don't know what happened to me," said Kevin, feigning amnesia as he went on the defensive. "Please don't tell Mr. Lewis - I'll be sent away from here and my real Dad will be livid. He got me in here that time after I ran away from you in Dr. Parker's apartment. Honestly, I've been doing my best to fit in with the rest of them here." Kevin's whole attitude had unexpectedly changed to one of submission and childlike innocence.

Tom stood up slowly, but never once took his eyes off Kevin. This little guy was a hard one to crack and he seemed to have mastered the art of shielding and masking. Tom didn't trust him for a minute. He was very volatile for one so young and he wasn't so sure that Kevin would make a good Chameleon with such unstable traits. "I think we'd better find your group - the Burrowing Owls, isn't it?" Tom asked as he manoeuvred Kevin back in the direction of the main building.

Kevin looked up at Tom trying to read his intentions as he muttered, "Yes, that's them. They're in the gym, now." He wasn't having much luck as Tom had become wise to him and had shielded against his extraordinary powers.

As they walked casually towards the gymnasium, Tom asked Kevin where his biological father - Richard Allen, was these days. He'd met him some years ago on a mission and recalled him to be a ruthless Chameleon. As he waited for Kevin to answer, he surmised, 'Like father, like son. No wonder Kevin was so temperamental.'

"Richard, my real Dad, is in Washington D.C. He's very important. I'm not allowed to tell what he does," simpered Kevin.

"Is that a fact, Kevin? You mustn't see him too often if he's so far away." Tom eyed him, trying to read if the young boy answered truthfully.

Kevin looked at Tom smugly as he replied, "But I do, Mr. Daniels. He comes here to see me about once a month. I... once went to Washington with him," he stated.

Tom was anxious to know if Kevin, being half-Human, had any guilty feelings. As they drew near to the entrance of the gym, he asked, "Tell me Kevin, do you ever miss your adopted father, Frank Taylor? Or your Mom, Rachel Taylor?"

Kevin appeared unaffected at the mention of the kind father he had coldly murdered, as they planned to escape into Canada all those months ago. "I gotta go now, Mr. Daniels. Mr. Lewis will be talking to us in a few minutes and I don't want to be late." Glancing slyly up at Tom, Kevin inquired matter-of-factly, "I suppose you'll tell him what I tried to do to you?" Tom shrugged his shoulders. Kevin backed away into the group of Burrowing Owls waiting outside the gym. He intended to have the last word here so he called out to Tom, "Don't worry, Mr. Daniels. I'm sure we'll meet again. In fact, you can bet on it... Tom!" An evil grin spread across his face as he disappeared into the middle of the group.

Tom watched the Burrowing Owls assemble around Lewis and then walked away, mulling over Kevin's parting words. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the warm Swiss Army knife which could have left him with a nasty injury had he not been so alert. So much for taking a break from his own training. This recent attempt by Kevin, attacking him while his back was turned, only served to highlight the importance of improving his own Homo dominant blocking/shielding and masking skills as well as the distance of his sensing powers. He figured he could almost sense up to 270 metres.

Late that afternoon, Tom met Lewis for a kayak race, The younger Chameleon told Lewis of Kevin's assault on him. The older Dominant seemed visibly angry at the youngster's lack of obedience and his own failure to control him. Tom asked slyly, "So! Do you think Kevin will make a good Chameleon? You said when I first arrived here, he reminded you of me at that age." Tom stopped and rubbed his neck, attempting to work out some muscular kinks there. "I don't recall being so insolent and erratic in my behaviour. Was I?"

Lewis shook his head. He replied expressionlessly, "Maybe not quite so capricious, but definitely independent. I must admit that boy is sometimes more trouble than he's worth. I took him in as a favour to Richard, his biological father. He's with the Department of Defence in Washington, D.C. He thought we might be able to exert some control over Kevin in the Chameleon programme, but I'm beginning to have my doubts. We'll keep an eye on him, and who knows, we may find some niche for him. There are always kamikaze missions when he's older, if all else fails." Lewis' blank face revealed nothing of his emotion, except for the eyes. They smiled malevolently. "Let's get a move on or dusk will be upon us. Ready?"

Tom climbed into his kayak and pushed away from the shoreline in response.

Over the next few days, Lewis continued training Tom in the techniques of masking. It was almost like the old times when they were getting on so well, mentor to protégé.

Tom had eased himself into the routine, and in order to survive, he'd completely closed off his mind to the memory of his emotions he had retained since the geno-genesis experiment. This included what he'd felt for Sloan, since he couldn't function if his mind was in turmoil. That downward spiral was so destructive. 'It wasn't Sloan, it was Sloan, it wasn't Sloan.' Back and forth he went. But, Tom couldn't think of that now, he had a job to do. Time was pushing on and he wanted to know about this assignment Lewis had been hinting about lately. Past experience told him that he might only have a few days notice of the details. This was Lewis' way of utilising the element of surprise and time limitation to get the best from his Chameleons and Tom in particular.

He thought about Av and a certain bonding they had developed, very similar to friendships the Humans so raved about. He had never truly known about that particular feeling or even mutual respect until he had met Sloan. In his prior assignments, if ever he saw a female he fancied, he simply convinced his target that she wanted him and they proceeded from there. They never had a chance, if he set his mind to it. 'Maybe Lewis was right,' Tom figured. ' I was quite ruthless in my operations. But that was then, before Sloan and the geno-genesis serum experiment. I'm different now.' He only hoped he could still be ruthless if a life depended on it, especially for anyone he cared for.

While Tom didn't retain any true emotions from that geno-genesis experiment, he remembered experiencing them and understanding them. It was his personal theory that not all emotions had been wiped from their species' psyche and some individuals felt more than others did. How else could they enjoy jokes, laughter, or whatever? How could they meld so completely into society, where no one else suspected their true origins? Perhaps their species just knew how to control emotions better, much like those Vulcans on that odd TV Series, Star Trek. Tom hoped his experience wouldn't put his life in jeopardy or cause him to become careless. Homo sapiens were easy prey when they were emotionally involved and their guard was down. He had once heard a Human woman remark, "When you're in love, the whole world seems rosy and at one with you."

Walter was feeling tired. It had been a long day and things were not going well. All efforts to find Mark had failed so far. Plus, it didn't help that Ray couldn't help him because of his useless investigation in Alberta. Granted, Ray didn't know that that, but since Tom's life depended on his silence, Ray had to have his surveillance.

Walter didn't want Mark's trail to get cold. He knew a negotiation with the Homo dominant's Peace Faction was the best way forward for both of their species. Since the night of Kewleys Comet, it was evident from Ed and Ray's report that they were up against some very, serious opponents. This was especially true if they primarily pursued an antagonistic mandate against them, against the warring Dominants, who were many and multinational. If, and when they implemented and realised worldwide government infiltration as well as numerous organisations, then the belligerent Dominants would have a very ominous advantage over Homo sapiens. It would be a dreadful blow for stable administration of global politics, economy and defence, to name a few.

Walter would remember for the rest of his life the shattering phone call from Ray requesting an urgent meeting with both himself and John Maxwell. Ray had spent the night observing the Dominants' meeting around the pillar, the night of Kewleys Comet arrival. Maxwell had flown in from Washington D.C. on the presidential jet, Air Force One, within hours of being summoned.

There was a Top Secret videophone line set up and patched in to President O'Brien at the White House so he could participate in the discussion and determine whether his attendance was necessary. John Maxwell and the President eventually decided the Human Task force team could handle everything for the time being. However, President O'Brien insisted that communications always be maintained, informing him immediately when situations required it. If at any stage, a crisis occurred which necessitated his presence, he wanted to be ready to go on a moment's notice.

Ed was on his way out of the lab when he noticed the hunched figure of Walter at his desk, apparently lost in a stack of files. He knocked and called out as he entered. "Hey, Walter, you okay?" He closed the door behind him and chuckled. "You look as if you need a break or even a holiday. Anything I can do for you?"

Walter looked up dejectedly. "How I wish! There's just no trace of Mark anywhere. He seems to have disappeared into thin air. Do you suppose Mariana could help? After all, she came to you when she needed medical aid for him."

"I'm meeting Mariana now. We're just going to Theo's for a pizza. Want to come along?" Ed smiled boyishly. "You could ask her yourself and see if she has any suggestions. Besides it will get you out of here, even if it's only for an hour or so." Ed walked towards Walter's desk and leaned down, staring into his face. "C'mon, Walter. Let's do it. All work and no play, well, you know the story."

Walter was about to protest when his telephone rang. As he picked up the receiver, he pressed the button to scramble it, thus securing the line. He held his hand over the speaker and replied, "You two go ahead. Ill catch up with you in a few minutes after I finish with this call." Ed stood and walked out of the office, but paused at the door, intending to tell his boss to hurry. Walter beat him to it and said, "Thanks, Ed. I promise not to play chaperone for too long." A wan smile lit his face briefly as Ed's puzzled and surprised eyes gazed at him.

"Hello, Attwood here." Walter cursed inwardly as he heard the voice of Maxwell's assistant - Declan Hynes. "What's up, Declan?"

"Hello, Walter, is this line secure?" whispered Declan.

"Yes, transmissions are scrambled," answered Walter confidently.

"We're under pressure to get those Peace negotiations back on the rails. Do you have any news about Mark, the Dominant leader? I'm being leaned on here by the top dogs and President O'Brien is worried that this debacle will cost him in the Primaries next year." Declan sounded every bit like the messenger that he was, petrified he'd lose face or his position.

"I'm working on it." Walter sighed, exasperated with the man. "Mark's underground and Ray, our NSA man is away on that other business up in Canada. I may have to find another delegate from the Dominant side if Mark doesn't show up soon. In fact, I was just heading out to a meeting when you called," said Walter, hoping he sounded believable.

"Look, Walter," said Declan, trying to sound authoritative. "You know how it is over here. One minute you're a hero and next, you find you're out of a job and on welfare if someone isn't happy with the way things are going. I'm under pressure here. So I'd really appreciate a break in this deadlock. How soon can you get back to me with something positive?" Declan was clearly worried. His voice betrayed it.

Walter fully understood the hierarchy at Capitol Hill, which he'd learned during his time stationed there as a very young NSA recruit. "Okay, Declan, I'll do my best to try and arrange another meeting. A while ago, I developed a possible contact just in case Mark never returned and I'm running a little late in getting away to meet with them. I don't want to miss this chance."

"In that case, you'd better go. Be sure to bring me up to date as soon as you can. My neck's on the line here or more likely, my job. Good luck, Walter." Declan was gone almost before Walter said goodbye. He replaced the receiver and considered Declan's situation. 'What a precarious way to live,' he thought. He thanked God his job didn't depend on the swings and roundabouts of politics.

Walter tidied up his desk and turned off the light as he exited his office and the lab. After securing the alarm, he looked at his watch. 'Hmm, almost 8.15 p.m. If he hurried, he could catch Ed and Mariana at Theo's before they ordered their meal.' Walter rushed down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the now silent lab. His bodyguard, Craig, would be waiting just inside the main doors of the building, with the night security guard. He chortled as he realised Ed would also have Des for company, so he might not be the only chaperone after all. Walter contemplated that these security precautions played hell with the sex lives of the lab staff.

"Hello, Craig, Bob," said Walter, nodding towards each man. "Yeah, we're meeting Ed and Mariana at Theo's just down the street. I'll leave the car here. I need the walk, especially after the day I've had." Walter sighed with relief as the fresh air hit him on opening the door.

"See you later, Bob," said Craig, backing out the door, trying to catch his charge. "We'll be back to collect Dr. Attwood's car later. Enjoy the game, Saturday." After a slight pause, he lamented, smiling slightly, "Wish I could go, but I'm working."

Walter, slightly amused by their bodyguard's constant vigilance, chuckled. 'He must be having fun. Ah well, Craig can join him.' Walking towards Ed's table, Walter focused on Mariana. 'Maybe Mariana's heard something about Mark.' He despaired over his position because Mark was his best opportunity for some peaceful negotiation and coexistence with the Homo dominants. 'Wonder if Mariana knows of someone who could fill in Mark's shoes while he's gone?'

Walter turned to his guard as they reached the table and said, "Craig, I'll see you later. Why don't you go join Des at that table?" The seated guard gestured to the vacant chair and Craig sat down opposite him. Walter smiled at both men in gratitude and sat across from Ed, next to Mariana.

"Hello, Mariana. I take it your food hasn't come yet?" asked Walter, looking from one to the other.

Mariana greeted Walter warmly. "Hi, Walter. I was delayed and just arrived a short time before you did." She quirked her mouth in a slight smile and said, "Aren't we lucky Ed is such a patient guy? We did manage to order though before you came."

The waitress interrupted them as she placed two pizzas on the table. She eyed Walter and he ordered, "Medium pepperoni with olives and anchovies." After scribbling in her little notebook, she left the table.

Ed and Mariana looked up at Walter and after his nod, they started eating. Walter smiled with deep pleasure. He asked, "Mariana, you don't mind if we make this a working supper, do you? We need to talk."

Mariana chewed quickly and replied, "Yes, Ed mentioned that you're still trying to find Mark. I'm afraid I can't help you on that score. When Mark disappears, nobody can find him until he wants to be found. As soon as he was recovered enough to get up, he was gone. Ed must've told you he came by to check on him and he'd vanished."

Walter removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose as though he was trying to clear his head. He looked very forlorn. "Now what am I going to do?" he asked no one in particular.

Mariana empathised with him and asked, "If this has to do with the peace negotiations, I may be able to help."

Walter looked up at her, stunned, "Really? Do you know someone who can take Mark's place at the conference table temporarily until he returns?" For the first time in weeks, Walter felt as though a cloud had lifted. He replaced his glasses and his eyes brightened up as he took in this news.

Mariana put down her knife and fork and laced her fingers. Her voice was barely audible as she spoke. "Walter, I believe you may already know your contact." She sensed his surprise and waited while he absorbed this news. She knew he hadn't a clue who she meant. Ed was also amazed to hear this. She loved playing this cat and mouse game with Humans.

"Excuse me?" stammered Walter. "Who do you mean, Mariana?" Walter didn't care if his pizza never came now. He was no longer hungry.

"Hey, Mariana," interrupted Ed. "How come you're only telling us now? You knew we'd been searching for Mark for the past few weeks now and you knew why." The disappointment in Ed's voice was audible.

She looked at both of them and was about to answer when the waitress returned with Walter's pizza. He thanked her as she walked away. Walter left his pizza alone while he waited to hear what Mariana had to say.

"Okay, Ed, Walter. I'm sorry. He left instructions not to say anything until you actually asked for my help. Tonight is the first time you did that." Seeing Walter's perplexed expression, she asked, "Walter, do you remember a meeting you had late one evening on September, the 17th? It was on a forest road about half an hour from town."

Walter's jaw dropped as he realised what Mariana was implying. "You don't mean one of those people whom I met in the black car with the tinted windows? They told me about Kewleys Comet and suggested that we were to infiltrate the meeting. Actually, now that you mention it, your name did come up in the conversation, Mariana."

Mariana smiled and nodded in agreement. "Yes, that's the meeting."

Ed's gaze flicked from one to the other too dumbfounded to speak. Eventually, he managed to ask Mariana, "Well, has this guy got a name or what? I think we've had enough mystery for one night. What about it, Mariana?"

Mariana nodded again, grinning as she responded, "All right, you two. I must remind you they instructed me to tell you only so much. The mystery man, Conor Kennedy, asked me to arrange a meeting with you, Walter. I have a contact number for him, but you will need to use a secure line. He's taking no chances after what happened to Mark and Jerry." Seeing the import of her words register on both men, she said, "So I suggest you be extremely cautious where you arrange to meet. He's a member of our Boston, Massachusetts Peace Faction. He told me to tell you that life could turn quite nasty for Homo sapiens if there's even a hint of the treachery, as happened in that back alley on July 9^th. And let's just say, you won't like the consequences."

"I can phone him from my office, tonight," said Walter, pleased and somewhat alarmed about this potential new contact. That man he'd met on that road that night had the air of quiet danger about him. "I have a secure line there. Since I have to go back to the lab to collect my car anyway, I'll contact him there." Walter stated, pleased with this new turn of events. "Want to give me the number, Mariana, or must you make contact first?"

Mariana opened her purse and found Conor's private number on her data organiser. She passed the details to Walter, who transferred them to his own palmtop.

Mariana checked her watch and looked at Ed as she said, "We'd better go. Its 9.30 p.m. and I'm rather tired. Will you excuse us please, Walter?"

Walter had more or less finished with his pizza, since his appetite had gone awry with Mariana's news. He was a little apprehensive at the possibility that the Peace talks could resume so quickly, now that there was an alternative Dominant representative. He pushed his plate aside and smiled at his two companions, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm done here as well. You two go ahead. I'll pick up the tab. The Government owes you at least that, Mariana."

Ed casually touched Mariana's hand as he replied, "Thanks, Walter, but I think the government owes Mariana a lot more. And as you and I both know, they don't usually hand out medals for arranging Peace deals between Dominants and Humans." Ed grabbed his coat and said, "We'll head off with our chaperone over there." As they made to leave, Ed quietly stressed, "Now, there's something. Mariana's life is at risk since she started hanging out around us. Maybe she needs her own personal minder. What do you say, Walter? Would the fund stretch to another bodyguard?"

Before he had a chance to answer, Mariana interjected, "No, Ed. It's not necessary. I can look after myself. You know that, so don't even think about it. You too, Walter."

Walter looked from one to the other, not sure if Ed or Mariana were joking. He shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, I believe you can defend yourself." He gave a rare smile as he got up to leave and shooed them out. "Be off, the pair of you." Des nearly knocked over a chair in the rush to keep up with the departing pair.

********************

The other party answered on the 2nd ring. "Hello, Dr. Attwood. Conor Kennedy here." The voice sounded husky, almost feminine.

Walter was taken aback. He didn't expect to be recognised so immediately. "Hello, Mr. Kennedy."

The caller interrupted, "Please, Walter, call me Conor. If we plan to make peace, we should be on first name terms. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, I suppose so, Conor. How did you know it was me calling you?" asked Walter, very suspicious.

Conor replied with a little laugh. "Homo sapiens aren't the only ones with state of the art communications systems. Besides, I'm a technology fanatic, myself. I bet you don't have a voice recognition facility there yet?" When Walter didn't answer, he stated, "You do know that caller ID is unreliable and an old hat these days." Walter's silence said it all. Conor chuckled slightly and said quietly, "So, when were you planning on this meeting and flying here to meet me?"

Now it was Walter's turn to laugh. "You mean, when are we going to meet outright, instead of clandestinely."

"Ah," breathed Conor, deeply. "I see Mariana has told you. Yes, you're right, Walter. I told you about Kewleys Comet and the Ceremony of the Chosen. I trust the information was of benefit to your people?"

"Yes, thanks, Conor. We really appreciated the tip off." Walter paused and stared outside, watching the night sky slowly pass by. "Now, we have a major headache on our hands since the Dominants are holding all the cards on this one. We have no way of knowing the identity of the infiltrators that Lewis spoke about that evening." Walter still moved cautiously with Conor. Dominants had discredited the Peace Faction in the past. How did he know this wasn't another trick to get him to disclose some of their own secrets, particularly about their efforts of identifying Dominants and defeating them?

Conor recognised hesitancy in Walter's voice. "I can see you don't trust me, yet. That's a good thing. You can never be sure, right?"

Walter was amazed by this man's perception, since he realised he wasn't using his empathic powers which wouldn't work over the phone and certainly not over a 3000 mile distance. "No, you can't, Conor. I suppose we should arrange a face-to-face meeting. Eye contact does wonders for establishing a trust, don't you agree?"

Now it was Conor's turn to be taken aback. Walter had taken the lead in this conversation. "When are you coming east?"

Walter had no plans to go east while Tom was still technically missing. He wanted to stay close to the centre of operations. "I'm afraid that's impossible to predict just now. I've a crisis of sorts on my hands these days and I need to stay close to base."

"Ah, the Tom Daniels defection. Before you ask, Walter, I don't know a lot about that operation. I understand you want to be there if it turns out to be true, since you were the last person with Daniels before he disappeared. I have ears everywhere," he warned icily, "and if I want to stay alive, I need to. Double-cross me and Homo sapiens will pay the consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal clear," responded Walter, "but let me make myself clear as well. My organisation and I are not someone you wish to fool around with either. Something your warring faction will soon learn, we Humans will never give up if they continue with their worldwide domination plans. As long as there is a single Homo sapiens left alive, the fight will go on. So, peaceful coexistence is the only choice for the two of us, if we wish for both of our species to survive." Pausing to catch his breath, he asked, "Could you travel west for a meeting? I'll ensure a safe house for you if you need it."

"Yes, I can fly there, ASAP. However, I don't need a safe house, I have my own contacts. What you must guarantee is this, a safe meeting place. One with quick, easy accesses and escape routes. When you've decided on the location, fax or e-mail me with the plan of the place. Make sure the message is encrypted. I'll give you my ID and you do likewise, Walter. Make sure all the entrances or exits are clear and send me photos of the venue from various angles. My people will sweep the place for bugs, as will your own."

"I'm sure all that can be arranged. When can we meet?" Walter asked.

"I imagine the sooner the better," he replied evenly. "Of course, you could avoid all this hassle if you came east. I have a perfectly safe venue here." Conor sounded smug again.

"Safe for you perhaps," murmured Walter quietly. I'll have that information sent to you tomorrow. Then the meeting can go ahead, if you approve the location." Walter was beginning to find Conor a little too smart and he was now ready to give as good as he got in the line of sarcasm.

"I see I managed to irritate you, Walter. That's not good for negotiators, is it? Just send the data. If my people approve, we can be at the table day after tomorrow, on Friday. Does that suit your people?" Conor had abandoned his glib talk.

"I'm sure we can agree on that," said Walter, tiredness creeping into his voice. "After all, it's in all of our best interests that these negotiations go ahead, sooner rather than later. There is no point biting off your nose to spite your face." Walter wanted this conversation to end on a friendly note, but he was finding it difficult. He was feeling the effects of his long day and he was impatient to get some sleep in his warm bed. 'A good night's sleep, for a change, what a novel idea,' he thought sarcastically.

Since there was three hours difference between the two cities, Conor probably felt the lateness as well. "You're right of course, Walter. We'll leave it at that, till I receive your information. Goodnight, Walter," stated Conor calmly, as he disconnected the line from his end first.

Walter sighed with relief and replaced the telephone receiver. He looked at the clock and realised the time. They had been talking for over an hour. It was definitely time for home and bed, at last. A new Dominant negotiator to temporarily replace Mark. He felt pleased - thanks to Mariana. He should really phone Declan and tell him the news. 'No, it could wait till morning. Besides, he had probably retired for the night.' Ever since his heart attack last year, he was inclined to tire easily and you would never catch him up past 10 p.m. anymore. 'Ah, the things we have to look forward to, if we don't watch ourselves.'

Walter locked up for the second time that night. Walking outside, he thought about Mariana and Ed, their fledgling relationship that seemed to be blossoming in front of their eyes, without either one or the other being any the wiser. Of course, both of them denied it existed at all, a sure sign there was something brewing. After all "methinks the lady doth protest too much." Walter chuckled as the Shakespearean quotation came to his mind. First, Sloan and Tom... will Ed and Mariana be second? Time will tell. Sighing tiredly, Walter believed the sooner these Peace negotiations got underway, the better for everyone involved. Since his staff had already forged ahead and formed their own personal alliances with the Dominants, their only hope of success depended on the peaceful coexistence. This was the only road to follow.

Before he entered the hall, he was aware that there was quite a gathering of people there. He was nervous, but he would have to hide it. He dare not risk failing this test. It was vital that he fully master this skill as it could make a difference and save his life at some future stage. It could also save the life of anyone he felt loyalty to or held some Human feelings for, such as Sloan. He dare not think of her now. He slowly opened the door and discovered all of the distinguished foreigners clustered at the head of the assembly hall. Some of them stared as he entered and promptly turned away as they felt he wasn't important. No one recognized him visually and none of them could read his character signature. Because of his presence here at Nead an Iolair, he could only be Dominant, so that wasn't a worry. No human could infiltrate their lair. Slowly, everyone's attention returned to Lewis, seated alone in the front of the hall. He too, ignored Tom as he approached.

Lewis addressed the crowd and proceeded to tell them that the overall plan had been moving ahead at a steady pace since the night of Kewleys Comet. He outlined some of the more important aspects, and detailed how these affected the various countries represented at the meeting. The whole speech took about an hour, taking into account questions raised by some of the people there.

Throughout this time, Tom remained cool and masked himself well. He was beginning to enjoy his anonymity when he heard Lewis announce, "People, I need your undivided attention here." He tapped the arm of his chair with a gavel, ensuring he had total silence. "There is someone in our midst who's very important to this whole event. Tom, would you stand up, please?"

The previously ignored or unnoticed man stood up and unmasked himself.

"Tom Daniels," exclaimed many of the visitors. "How did he get in here without our noticing? Why didn't we recognise him?" Tom was suddenly conscious that some were looking at him in awe, while others gazed with suspicion. A flurry of whispers gathered momentum as it reached the full audience. Never before had anybody made Tom feel the exact level of his betrayal to his species.

Lewis addressed the group again. His words echoed all over the hall in a distant, hollow manner. "People, I'd like to introduce Tom Daniels, the future President of the United States of America and also one of our Chosen potential leaders within the High Council. He's an indispensable part of our plan, and while we could've selected another to replace him, we elected not to do so. Tom Daniels is the best man for this position. Come to me, Tom," he commanded.

Tom felt as though he wasn't present in a physical sense, but was observing the scene from above in a corporeal one instead. He watched rather than felt his advance towards the assembly. Lewis took his right hand and raised it above their heads as he addressed the congregation. "We shall reign in the Kingdom of Man."

This expression no longer worked as a hypnotic for Tom. Lewis had released him from the trigger phrase last March. The older, more experienced Chameleon believed in changing these programming phrases as often as possible in case they became corrupt. So the announcement did not put his protégé into a trance or anything like it. Out of the distance, Lewis addressed him and said, "Don't you want to meet some of these people, Tom? They are important to you for the future."

"Yes, sure," he responded mechanically, as he came out of his reverie.

Each of the foreign dignitaries stepped forward and briefly introduced themselves, bowing slightly after each introduction and moving back to stand near Lewis. Tom couldn't believe the immensity of this whole Event Horizon.

Finally, Lewis approached Tom and announced, "Tom, you already know my place in this Grand Plan, as I explained it to you last Friday. It'll be important for us all to fully cooperate and ensure our success. I know you won't let us down this time, Tom."

Stunned by all of this attention, Tom was unable to speak for a few minutes. Lewis knew his protégé well enough to anticipate this reaction. Tom was ushered into the group where he felt rather than participated in being welcomed back to his rightful place among his own species. He answered questions automatically, not really thinking about them.

Although Lewis had informed Tom of his own place in the future of their society last Saturday, he was still mesmerised by the sheer enormity of it. It was one thing to be told of this position, but quite another to experience the effect of it. He thought, 'This is far too soon after my trauma. I'm not ready for this, to understand it even. How can I be the person they want? Especially after what I did. I betrayed them. No, there must be a mistake. I'm dreaming this. It's another trick of Lewis' or maybe Alexandra Luthor's,' Tom shuddered, as another thought occurred to him. 'Maybe this is an hallucination induced by the tank.' That idea alone shook him for a long time. What if he was still in the tank?

Somebody handed Tom a glass of water and mentioned something about him looking pale. Abruptly, he came out of the trance-like state and grabbed the glass gratefully. He heard himself thank the young woman who had been thoughtful enough to notice his predicament. Suddenly, everything came back into focus and Tom realised this was not a dream or a nightmare. He looked at Inge Andersen, his saviour, and nodded his head in recognition.

"Feeling better now, Mr. Daniels?" She was a sight to behold with her pale blonde hair and azure-blue eyes.

"Yes, thank you," Tom hesitated. Raising an eyebrow, he inquired, "Ms. Andersen? Is that correct?" Tom was surprised he could actually remember her name after being introduced to so many of these foreign dignitaries. Then again, his Chameleon training had done wonders for his memory, which was almost photographic.

She smiled slightly, more in her eyes than anywhere else on her face. "Yes, you're quite right and please, call me Inge. Ms. Andersen is so stuffy, wouldn't you agree?"

"Sure, Inge," he responded. "You're right, of course. Please call me Tom. Only my enemies call me Mr. Daniels. I'm curious, though. Are you European? Scandinavian?"

"Danish, actually. I'm from Aarhus." Inge scanned the room and informed her companion, "It looks like our meeting is finishing up, Tom. It was a pleasure to meet you." She thrust her hand forward and shook Tom's hand strongly. "I look forward to working with you in the future when everything falls into place."

"Likewise, Inge. Thank you for coming to my rescue," Tom stated as he raised the glass of water, saluting her. She responded with a nod and a small secret smile before she rejoined the group of departing dignitaries.

As the assembly slowly moved towards the exit, Tom looked about and placed the empty glass on a table near the wall. He scanned the group, searching for Lewis. As he did so, their eyes locked and Tom hung back, waiting for him.

Lewis smiled wickedly as he emerged from the company and approached Tom. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked, with a glint in his eye as he reached his side and the two began following the others out of the room. When his former student didn't reply, he peered into his face and inquired, "Was the shock too much for you?"

Tom thought carefully before replying. "Answering your first question, Lewis, I'm much better thanks to Inge Andersen." He nodded in her direction before continuing confidently, "And no, the shock was not too much for me." Pausing to reflect for a few short moments, Tom finally continued. "I suppose I've never been the centre of attention before, at least not when I was aware of it." He gazed at Lewis out of the corner of his eyes, hoping he understood the implication. There had been times when Alexandra Luthor had controlled those occurrences and he hated it. As Lewis remained silent, Tom elaborated, "I suppose there'll always be times when I'll have flashbacks to my imprisonment and all the trauma that entailed. That's what happened back there, nothing more, Lewis."

Lewis gazed at Tom searchingly and he stopped. Reaching out, Lewis caught his protégé's arm and turned him, so he couldn't avoid his eyes. "Are you telling me everything? This doesn't have to do with your control, does it? Because it shouldn't happen if you're taking your prescribed medication while you're here. Of course, you'll be off it by the time you leave, so don't worry on that account. Just remember, we don't want nor do we need a repeat performance of what happened in the Library a week ago, do we?"

Tom returned Lewis' stare as he shrewdly replied, "No, Lewis, we don't. I for one don't want to return to those days and nights with nightmares and the turmoil that I endured prior to attending Sharon's clinic." He adopted a determined stance as he pointed out, "Nor have I stopped taking the medicine. Just remember, I was the one who suffered." Tom drew a steadying breath. "Do you think I want to revert to that state again?"

The two men stared at each other for what seemed like an endless moment before they accepted what each other had to say. Finally, Tom took the initiative and broke the spell, saying, "I don't know about you, Lewis but I need some fresh air. The air in here is beginning to stink." With that remark, he turned and parted company from his mentor, heading in the direction of the exit at a quickened pace.

The older Dominant stared after his protégé for a long time. He mulled over their conversation and decided, 'There are still some instances when Tom can really get under my skin. He's a stubborn young man and because of that, I'll never really be sure of him. However, all I can do is hope that Tom understands if he must gamble, his best bet for survival exists with his own species.' Lewis left the assembly hall and rejoined his foreign guests.

Tom strolled around the gardens while he re-examined his proposed path in life. Should he reassess his options based on Lewis' revelations of his place in their grand scheme? He inhaled deeply as the cold air hit his face. Tom had never anticipated the need to make such a decision. The Presidency of the United States was one of the most commanding positions in the world, if not the most powerful since the U.S. was now one of the last remaining superpowers.

The person who held that office could work for the greater good or evil of humankind. Of course, that was assuming he was not a puppet of a major force like Lewis. At the same time, these so-called associates that he had just met would certainly be another 'force majeure' and one he couldn't reckon with alone.

Sloan entered his thoughts. 'Ah, Sloan. What would she suggest I do?' After a few moments' contemplation, he thought, 'Are you nuts, Tom? That's Lewis we're talking of! You can't trust him in any way, shape or form... yes, that would definitely be her advice.'

Lewis returned to his group of foreign dignitaries. He immediately convened an extraordinary General Meeting of the High Council, which consisted of the leaders of those present at the previous assembly. "Everyone, move to the private conference room on the 2^nd floor of the main house. We need to discuss serious and urgent matters without fear of being disturbed or worry about eavesdroppers or surveillance." The conference room had been especially fitted for such purposes, and in this instance, the Homo dominants could match any Intel that the NSA was able to access.

The camp director had noted the underlying tone of unease that pervaded the group when he had announced that Tom was one of their Chosen potential leaders within the High Council. Prior to his defection, it had originally been intended that the young Chameleon would head the Council. However, now there was far too much controversy over this matter.

It was with great reluctance that the Council had agreed to retain Tom within the inner circle at all. Lewis was anxious to make a case for his protégé to the body as a whole, now that he'd returned to the fold. He proposed that they elect a deputy leader while Tom was put on probation for a period of 6 months at least. If there was still dissent after that, he would have to reconsider his options, for it was imperative that Tom as U.S. President also spearheaded the High Council.

One of the most antagonistic protesters was Pauline Lavery - the future Advisor to the High Council on developments in the North-South Irish Ministerial Council. This attractive young woman of slender build and height, with a fair complexion, light brown hair and penetrating, steel blue-grey eyes, was a true Celt in temperament. She argued the point and said, "If Tom Daniels defected once, what prevents him from doing so again?"

A low hum of voices in favour of her theory began to gather momentum until finally Lewis used his gavel to quell the buzz. A hushed silence descended on the congress and Lewis' voice boomed out, "People, please! May I have your attention for a moment?" He got it and so he announced, "It seems that the Council at this moment in time isn't prepared to consider Tom as its future leader. However, as a member of the Chosen, he is automatically enrolled on the Council, and while he's not at this meeting, he will be at all future assemblies. I suggest we take a secret ballot to select a deputy leader who will act for us during the period of Tom's probation."

He paused to take a breath and to gauge the atmosphere. Silence still reigned apart from a few whispers. He still had the ear of the body as a whole, so he used the opportunity to point out, "Just in case any of you might be considering voting for me, I regret to say I am not in the running, at least not this time. I have a full schedule these days, and I can't guarantee to give that position the time it rightfully deserves." Again the low drone of whispered conversations started up as Lewis delegated a few of the group to distribute voting sheets to the gathering.

Forty minutes later, the vote was over and the count was completed. Surprisingly, the group consensus was for the previously unknown young Irish woman - Pauline. Lewis studied the new deputy leader, who was almost as astonished as he was. He made a mental note to get to know this woman better. She was obviously a force to be reckoned with since she won the favour of her co-Council members so quickly.