Corporal Roberts landed his shuttle in front of the Embassy and got out, glancing at his watch as he did so. He was relieved to see that it wasn't yet three o'clock; he was still on time. He'd been a bit worried about that - before he'd left the mothership, Janisch and Calhoun had taken him aside to give him the latest gossip from the crew, and it had taken more time that he had anticipated.

I wonder if it's true, mused Roberts, as he nodded to the guards stationed at the Embassy entrance. Speculation concerning the rumour that Zo'or had decided to appoint Major Kincaid to the position of Flight Commander had apparently been running rampant over the past few hours. I hope it is...

Major Kincaid generated a great deal of gossip and speculation among the Volunteers, and had done so ever since he had abruptly shown up at Commander Boone's funeral and saved Da'an from the Jaridian replicant. He was the only Companion-Protector without a CVI, and according to the rumour mill, Zo'or had been the one to insist that he not be given one - which had only added to the mystery.

As well as being a Companion-Protector - which was a full-time job in and of itself - Major Kincaid was also one of the best pilots Roberts had ever seen. He seemed to have a natural instinct for it - and if the other set of rumours that were currently making the rounds were true, about what he'd said to Lieutenant Benning yesterday, it was even more than that.

Roberts had been trained by the late Captain Marquette, who had been a gifted shuttle pilot - one of the first humans to fly a shuttle - and been instrumental in developing the control interface that the human pilots used. But she hadn't been a miracle worker. The Major wasn't quite as expert a pilot as Captain Marquette had been, but came very close. If he had learned from her how to fly a shuttle that well - without ever having used the simulator - it had definitely been something about Major Kincaid, rather than Captain Marquette.

Assuming the rumour was true, of course. If there was one thing he'd definitely learned during his time as a Volunteer, it was that even if there was a grain of truth to a rumour, it was generally exaggerated all out of proportion.

By this time, Roberts had reached Da'an's audience room, which was - for some reason he wasn't aware of - also Major Kincaid's office. Peering in, he saw the Major sitting at his desk, scowling at a pile of paper that was on top of it.

Another one of the Embassy guards - Corporal Terry Standings, who had been in the same Basic Training camp as Roberts - was standing at attention just outside the entrance to the audience room. Roberts gave him a nod.

Standings grinned back at him. "Glad to see you, Michael," he said. "You're here to see the Major?"

"Yep," Roberts replied. "He called me about an hour ago and asked me to come down here. No idea why, though," he added.

"My guess is that he wants to ask you some questions," Standings replied. He glanced into the room behind him for a moment, and then turned back to Roberts with an expression of quiet pride on his face. "I don't know if you've heard, but Zo'or's putting him in charge of the pilots."

Roberts nodded slowly. "Yes, I did hear that - the rumour mill is passing it throughout the mothership," he replied.

"Well, I'm just glad you're here; I've been starting to get worried that he's going to try to slip out of here when I'm not looking," Standings told him. "He's been complaining for the past half hour about having nothing to do except paperwork."

Roberts frowned, understanding what the other man was getting at. The Major was being targeted by a professional assassin; if he stepped out of the protection of the Embassy, he might as well paint a bull's-eye on his back. "Got it," he said, giving Standings a sharp nod. Message received and understood. He'd do his best to keep the Major occupied for as long as he could.

Entering the audience room, Roberts walked over to the Major's desk and saluted. "Corporal Roberts reporting as ordered, sir," he stated.

Major Kincaid looked up, smiling. "At ease, Corporal," he said. "I'm very glad to see you; you've just gone and saved me from drowning in a sea of paperwork."

Roberts grinned in response. In the two days that he'd been acting as the Major's pilot, he'd very quickly learned that, unlike Agent Sandoval, Major Kincaid encouraged a certain informality. "Glad to be of service, Major," he replied, relaxing his stance.

The Major gestured to a chair that stood in front of the desk. "Sit down, relax," he suggested. "This is going to take a while, and you don't want to be on your feet the entire time."

As Roberts obeyed, the Major moved the pile of papers in front of him off to one side.

"First of all, I don't know if you're aware of this, but Zo'or has--"

"--Put you in charge of the pilots," Roberts finished for him.

Major Kincaid blinked.

"It's all over the mothership," Roberts explained, shrugging. "I was told before I left to come down here, and then Terry - Corporal Standings - told me a minute ago."

"All over the mothership," the Major repeated numbly.

Roberts nodded.

"Wonderful," he muttered. He leaned back in his chair, and then shifted as Roberts saw a flicker of pain cross his face. "In that case," the Major continued, "I might as well get straight to the point.

"Agent Sandoval told me yesterday that the pilot training program has been experiencing some difficulties. He wanted me to start looking into the situation, and to see if I could find a way to correct the problems. Yesterday afternoon, there was an orientation lecture for the most recent class, which I attended." The Major's eyes darkened a bit. "I wasn't overly impressed."

Roberts nodded, although he did wonder why Major Kincaid was explaining all this.

"Then, this morning, Zo'or decided to appoint me Flight Commander, which gives me the authority to make any changes I deem necessary. However, the first thing I need to do is find out what needs to be changed."

"Makes sense," Roberts agreed.

Major Kincaid grinned in response, and Roberts noticed him relaxing slightly. "I thought so too.

"Anyway, what I'm going to be doing over the next week - until my appointment to the position officially takes effect - is asking questions of certain Volunteers; both pilots and those who started the training, but failed for some reason or another. I decided to start with you because I know what sort of pilot you are; I want to use your capabilities and level of competence to establish a baseline for the answers I'll be getting."

It was Roberts' turn to blink. Agent Sandoval had mentioned that Major Kincaid respected him as a pilot - which had been hard to believe, considering the Major's own skills - but it was one thing to hear it from Agent Sandoval, who wasn't a pilot, after all, and another to hear it from the Major himself.

"I'll be glad to help any way I can, sir," Roberts replied.

"Good. Then let's get started."

Liam listened very carefully as Corporal Roberts explained his training in detail.

It seemed to be remarkably similar to the program that Lieutenant Benning was currently running, which suggested that either the current problems with the training were very subtle, or there was something else going on.

Though he hadn't mentioned it to Sandoval, his main difficulties with the orientation lecture yesterday had been Lt. Benning's views. He seemed to automatically assume that most of the trainees would fail, and had made that quite clear in his speech. That wasn't the type of attitude that they should be going into training with.

There was also the matter of Benning's attitude toward non-Implants; the way he had implied that those Volunteers with implants would be better pilots grated on Liam's nerves, especially considering what he knew about the Volunteer implants and the modifications Zo'or had introduced. He seemed determined to ignore the fact that Lili, who had been the best pilot the Taelons had - and Liam himself - had never been implanted.

And you don't like the way he reacted to you, Liam admitted to himself, absently beginning to scratch his right palm.

No, what really made it obvious that there was a problem with the training program were the statistics. Although he disagreed with the way Lt. Benning had mentioned it, the statistics the Lieutenant had recited to the trainees were quite accurate - for the program since the crackdown, that was. Before the crackdown, it had averaged closer to 12 Volunteers out of every 15 graduating. To go from 80% of the class graduating down to about 25% meant that there was definitely something seriously wrong.

He had been hoping that it was something as simple as a total re-organization of the training program as a result of what the Volunteers saw as Lili's treachery. But based on what Roberts was telling him, that wasn't it at all.

It looked as though he was going to have more to do than he'd thought...

Renee looked around as she stood in the office of the head of the Arctic research facility. The room was nicely decorated with pictures - most probably of Dr. Greenbaum's kids and their families, she guessed - and the atmosphere was such that it didn't feel as though they were in an isolated location miles from everywhere. Which was, she supposed, exactly the impression it was supposed to convey.

Jonathan had thought that it would be a good idea for her to do a security check of the facility, since she was going to be coming here with Dr. Morneaux anyway.

It hadn't taken very long to do; the facility wasn't all that large, and since it was so isolated, there weren't exactly any neighbouring communities to gossip about it - unlike the oil platform off the coast of Peru.

She grimaced at the thought. That was a security nightmare; especially since Sandoval and the Taelons - and Liam, for that matter - had found out about the Taelon artifacts in the area. She still wasn't sure if it had been a wise idea to tell Liam about Ma'el's ship; unfortunately, they hadn't exactly had much choice.

"Ms. Palmer?"

Turning around, she gave Dr. Greenbaum a nod of acknowledgement. "I've finished my security inspection, Doctor," she told the older woman. "I'm quite satisfied with the various precautions you have in place; and I must admit to being very impressed by the thermal baffles you've got set up."

"I'm glad you like them, Ms. Palmer," Dr. Sylvia Greenbaum replied. "They're really what make this as secure a location as it is."

Renee nodded. She was fully aware of the effects of the thermal baffles; what had impressed her was how thoroughly they managed to conceal the facility's heat signature. Not even a Taelon shuttle flying overhead should be able to detect the research complex.

"Now, I have just a few questions, and then I have to be getting back to Washington," she said.

Dr. Greenbaum frowned. "I'm afraid that won't be possible at the moment, Ms. Palmer," she said, shaking her head.

Renee looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Greenbaum turned on the terminal on her desk and typed something in. Then she turned the screen to show Renee what looked like a cloud of white. "This is what it's like outside at the moment. It's a full strength blizzard. There's no way any planes can get through that, and we don't have any portals, as you know, for security reasons. I'm afraid you're stuck here until it dies down."

"And how long will that take?" Renee demanded, staring at the screen in dismay. This was the last thing she needed, to be stuck here while everything was going on down in Washington.

The older woman sighed, shaking her head again. "I can't say; you'd have to check with Fred Andrews - our resident meteorologist. It could be as little as a few hours, or it could last two to three days. Either way, I'm afraid you'll be here until it's over."

Lovely. Just lovely. Jonathan is going to be fit to be tied. This is going to be a disaster - especially if it lasts longer than a few hours. I need to be back in Washington by Monday afternoon for that meeting...

"If you don't mind, Doctor," she said, smiling as politely as she could under the circumstances, "I'll take your advice and go talk to Mr. Andrews."

"I'll get you set up with a room, just in case," Dr. Greenbaum called from behind her, as she went out the door.

Great. Absolutely wonderful. This week has just gone from very bad to disastrous.

Sandoval pushed himself away from the desk with a sigh of mingled irritation and exasperation.

It had become obvious yesterday evening that if the Taelon databases did contain any information about his son, it was information that not even Zo'or had access to - and Sandoval didn't have a copy of Da'an's energy signature that he could use to check. Therefore, that was a dead end.

As a result, he'd decided to go back to his original plan - taking into account the fact that since his son was a hybrid, his growth rate would be different, and so his actual age could be anything up to four years or so. His physical age, on the other hand...

Sandoval had no idea how old his son might appear now. If he based his assumptions on the growth rate of the babies at the moonbase, his son could even appear to be an adult.

All this was going to make finding him much, much harder.

At the same time, he'd also been going over the plan he'd worked out with Kincaid earlier. Something about it had been nagging at him; his instincts were screaming at him that they were missing something. Something big. Unfortunately, he hadn't yet been able to figure it out.

Maybe talking to Kincaid about it would help him figure out what the problem was.

Standing up, he left the room and walked the short distance down the hall to Da'an's office. Corporal Standings was still there; his official shift started at five, and it was only four-thirty.

Sandoval had been rather interested by the fact that all the Embassy guards had agreed to have their turn at guarding Major Kincaid before the start of their shifts. It was another example of the respect and loyalty they felt toward Kincaid; a respect and loyalty the younger man hadn't even realized that he'd earned.

"The Major's still talking to Corporal Roberts, sir," Cpl. Standings said.

"Thank you, Corporal," Sandoval replied, and walked in.

Kincaid was sitting at his desk, listening and nodding at something Corporal Roberts was saying. His eyes flickered over to Sandoval as the agent walked in, and he gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement before returning his attention to his conversation with Roberts.

Sandoval stayed where he was, not wanting to interrupt the discussion, though he was pleased that Kincaid had noticed him come in. He'd been a bit worried earlier, when he'd walked straight up to the Major, carrying the bags of food, and Kincaid hadn't even realized he was there until he'd gotten his attention by dropping the food directly in front of him.

"Thanks, Roberts," Kincaid said, standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning; and I'd appreciate if you didn't mention this to anyone."

"Of course not, sir," Roberts replied, also standing up. He turned, and gave Sandoval a surprised salute. "Sir!"

"It's all right, Corporal," Sandoval said, gesturing with one hand for the Volunteer to relax.

"Yes, sir," Roberts said, nodding, and then hurried out.

"So, what's up?" Kincaid asked, not sitting down.

Sandoval was about to reply when he noticed something.

The Major had his hands together, and it looked as though he was scratching his right palm; scratching it fairly hard, at that.

"Major, is something wrong?" he asked, worried. He'd noticed Kincaid rubbing his palms a number of times over the past several days, but rubbing was different than scratching.

Kincaid tilted his head - something he'd been doing rather than shrugging since he had been shot. "Well, it looks like I was wrong about the source of the problems with the training program, though I can't be sure until I've finished talking to all the pilots," he offered.

Sandoval shook his head. "I meant with your hands," he said. "You've been rubbing them all week, and now you're scratching them."

Kincaid blinked, looking surprised - obviously he hadn't noticed what he was doing. "Well, they have been itching a bit lately," he began, and glanced down at his palms.

A strange expression - almost like fear, Sandoval thought in surprise - crossed Kincaid's face for just a moment, and then he closed his hands into fists and looked up, his face impassive. "They're just itchy," he repeated. "Did you want to see me about something?"

Liam sat down in his chair as Sandoval started explaining his feeling that they were missing something. He had to sit down; if he hadn't, he would probably have collapsed, and that would have told Sandoval that something was very definitely wrong.

Until Sandoval had mentioned it, he hadn't consciously noticed that he had been scratching his palms a great deal lately. Not just rubbing, but scratching - because they had been itching.

Only it hadn't been his palms that had been itching... it had been his shaqarava.

When he'd looked down at his palms - actually looked at them - the mark of his shaqarava had been obvious; they were a dark, angry red. He was vaguely surprised that he hadn't noticed before this, if they'd been this dark...

But you thought that they'd disappeared - disappeared for good, he thought. So you never even thought to look. And now something's wrong with them.

This was a problem. A big problem. And one that he had no clue how to solve.

He could always talk to Dr. Park about it, but she knew even less about shaqarava than he did. And as for Da'an... well, Liam wasn't entirely certain that he could trust Da'an with this anymore. Wasn't certain he could trust Da'an with anything anymore. And with the marks this obvious, it was only a matter of time before someone - like Sandoval or Zo'or - noticed, and started putting two and two together...

I'm going to have to hide them... somehow, he thought, as his father continued speaking. At least until I figure out what's wrong with them...

If anything's wrong with them, Liam added ruefully to himself. It was quite possible that the period of dormancy, followed by this - whatever 'this' was - was normal; but Liam didn't think so.

I may have no choice but to talk to Da'an about this. He's the only one who knows about me and has the knowledge of the shaqarava...

Suddenly, Sandoval's voice interrupted his preoccupation. "All right, Major, what's wrong?"

Liam blinked, focusing on his father. Sandoval was studying him, his expression one of concern.

"Nothing's wrong," Liam lied calmly, keeping his hands closed.

"Then why haven't you been listening to a word I've said?" Sandoval demanded.

"I've been listening," Liam protested, once again blessing his perfect Kimera memory. "You were talking about tomorrow's plan, and how you think we've missed something somewhere - though as far as I can see, we've got all the contingencies covered. He might be able to get access to the site, but Roberts is going to be in the shuttle above and scanning continuously for the vaile, so--"

"Major!" Sandoval interrupted. The concern in his expression was rapidly being replaced by exasperation.

Liam breathed a silent sigh of relief at having successfully distracted his father. "Seriously, Sandoval - at every point along my route I'll have two teams of Volunteers within shouting distance, and Roberts will be just overhead. As soon as the shuttle's sensors pinpoint the vaile, we'll be able to close in on him, catch him... and with any luck, still get a chance to enjoy part of the festival."

Sandoval frowned. "I still think we're missing something," he said. "Something obvious, that's right in front of our noses."

"The only thing I can think of that would be a problem is if he decided to fire into the crowd," Liam said, pulling the map they'd been using up on his screen. "Though if that happens, everything gets shot to hell anyway."

"And I'm fairly certain he won't do that," Sandoval countered, shaking his head as he came around the desk and studied the map from over Liam's shoulder. "You're his target, and he's a professional, which means he'll be aiming to kill you and then get out of there without risk to himself."

Oh, thanks for the reminder, Liam thought sourly.

"Besides, McKenna's always abhorred the idea of civilian casualties," Sandoval continued with a sigh. "He won't fire into a crowd and risk innocent people getting killed."

"People that he considers innocent," Liam added unhappily. He started to rub his palm, and then caught himself just in time. Careful, Liam, careful. You can't let Sandoval see your hands. Not now.

Sandoval nodded in acknowledgement of Liam's statement, and then sighed again. "And even if he has changed and does end up firing into the crowd, there isn't much we can do about it, as you pointed out. I really can't think of anything we can change."

That statement - and the resigned tone in which it was uttered - were so uncharacteristic of Sandoval that Liam stared at him for a moment in surprise. Then, as he watched, Sandoval rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking tired.

No, not tired, Liam corrected himself, as he studied his father a bit more carefully. Exhausted. He looks as though he's been getting less sleep than I have.

This was supposed to be his vacation time. He was supposed to be relaxing, enjoying life for once, not protecting me from a professional assassin. No wonder he's exhausted.

There's got to be something I can do...

Wait a minute. Liam frowned as something suddenly occurred to him. "Sandoval, when did you come in this morning?" he asked.

Sandoval looked at him in obvious confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what time did you get into the Embassy this morning?" Liam elaborated.

"I stayed here last night," Sandoval replied curtly, returning his attention to the map on Liam's screen and glaring at it.

Liam's frown deepened as he continued to study his father. No wonder Sandoval was tired - Liam doubted that he'd been able to get much sleep on what passed for beds here. The only reason he had slept for so long was because he had been completely exhausted, and because the increased dosage of painkillers Dr. Park had given him had finally caught up with him. "Why?" he demanded.

The look Sandoval gave him was one of pure exasperation.

"I mean, the Embassy is guarded 24 hours a day," Liam pointed out rapidly, wanting to avoid another lecture on the fact that he was a target. He was only too aware of that fact, and didn't feel like having it repeated yet again. "You didn't have to stay here."

"It was the most convenient way to handle the situation," Sandoval replied evenly. "Would you have done any differently in my position?"

Liam paused for a moment. Well, he's definitely got me there... "No," he admitted, "I wouldn't. But I've got a much better idea for tonight."

Sandoval turned around to face him. "You are not staying at your apartment, Major," he said firmly.

"I wasn't going to suggest that," Liam protested innocently. He had considered using that option to try to soften Sandoval up for his real suggestion, but only for a moment. Sandoval had put his foot down about it last night, and it was more than likely that bringing it up again would have only irritated him - with the result that they would end up spending another night in the Embassy, which was exactly what Liam was trying to avoid.

"So what did you have in mind?" Sandoval asked, his tone wary.

"Your apartment," Liam replied.

Sandoval just stared at him.

"It makes sense," Liam said persuasively. "I want to sleep in a real bed tonight; and you look really tired, Sandoval - I'd much prefer that you be at your best tomorrow. That means not trying to sleep in a cot here at the Embassy. And since you've already made it clear that my apartment isn't an option, that leaves yours."

Sandoval still looked sceptical, but he was at least listening to Liam. That was good; Liam had no doubt that it would be much easier to convince him to go along with this now, rather than when he was fully awake.

"And if you're worried about security," he continued rapidly, "we can always get a squad of Volunteers to act as an escort." Liam hesitated, and then let his own concern show. "You really do look exhausted, Sandoval. This whole mess interrupted what was supposed to be your vacation, and it isn't fair to you. Between an escort of Volunteers, you, and not being at my place, I think it should be safe enough."

"All right," Sandoval said finally, sighing. He rubbed the bridge of his nose again. "I'll get Captain Jardine to send a squad to meet us here in a few hours."

Good. Liam smiled in satisfaction. "Until then, want to help me with the paperwork?" he offered then, knowing how his father would respond.

"No thanks, Major," Sandoval replied. "I've still got some work to do."

I wonder what he's working on? "Well, the offer will remain open," he declared, grinning.

"I'll remember that," Sandoval threw over his shoulder as he turned to leave.

Liam waited until Sandoval was gone, and then leaned back in his chair and opened his hands, staring down at his palms and the dark red marks they now bore.

So what do I do now?

Augur leaned forward and frowned at the screen in front of him. "Are you sure about this?" he demanded.

Holo-Lorna looked insulted - a look she did quite well, Augur noticed absently. "Of course I am, Augur," she told him. "I don't make mistakes like this."

"No, you don't," Augur admitted, looking back at the screen. "I'm sorry - I'm just worried about Liam."

"But it isn't Lieutenant Colonel McKenna who's been accessing these files," Holo-Lorna pointed out.

"No, which is a partially good thing - it means that McKenna doesn't know what's really going on, which can only be to Liam's advantage. The problem is that it's the same Fed who was checking Liam's records - Andrew Patterson - and whatever the FBI finds out, Sandoval finds out," Augur explained. "Which is a very bad thing."

"Should we let Major Kincaid know?" Holo-Lorna suggested.

After thinking for a minute, Augur shook his head. "No, not yet. He's got enough on his plate right now with McKenna after him. We'll wait until they catch McKenna, and then tell him.

"Meanwhile, Lorna, I'd like you to keep a tracer on Patterson. I want to know everything he does, every file he tries to access; the more we know about what he's doing, the better prepared we'll be to deal with it."

"Whatever you say, Augur," the hologram replied.

As she got to work, Augur stood up from the console and started pacing.

When he'd first set up the persona and records of 'Major Liam Kincaid', the kid had only been about twelve hours old and the real Liam Neville Kincaid was, as far as everyone was concerned, missing in action and presumed dead.

He'd known as soon as they met Colonel Zeke - the real Liam Kincaid - that things were liable to get complicated down the road. Sure, the Colonel had given Liam permission to keep using his identity, but what would happen after the Taelons had been stopped? Would the Colonel want to reclaim his identity? And where would that leave Liam?

The one thing he hadn't anticipated was this.

All the information about Operation Dark Knight was very, very carefully hidden. There were files on all personnel involved in ODK, as well as operating details and the like, stored in a mainframe, but it was buried so deeply that all his probing when he'd been setting up Liam's identity hadn't garnered even a hint of it.

As much as Augur hated to admit it, Bettis - who was apparently in charge of all computer-related security for ODK - was as much of a genius as he was when it came to making computers behave. He had hidden everything on ODK so well that if he hadn't shown Augur exactly how to get at it, Augur would have never even known where to look.

And once he'd found out, Augur had gone and added an extra layer or two of security on top of Bettis', using his knowledge of Taelon technology to help bury the information even deeper.

Only now it seemed that Andrew Patterson, FBI agent, had managed to gain access to at least one layer of the ODK files. Augur wasn't entirely certain what it was that he had accessed, but it had definitely been something.

Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the couch and leaned back. He'd sent a message to Bettis, alerting him about the security breach; he'd just set Lorna up to do a full trace program on Patterson... Now, all he could do was wait.

Wait, and worry about Liam.

Liam yawned as he used his left hand to push himself away from his desk, and glanced at his watch. His eyes widened in surprise as he noticed the time - eight o'clock?! Had he really been working for three hours straight?

Looking back at his desk, and taking in the amount of paperwork in his 'completed' pile, he grinned ruefully. I guess I have been working that long, he admitted.

He'd managed to find a pair of lightweight fingerless gloves in one drawer - a gift Lili had given him after he'd explained to her how he'd re-joined Da'an to the Commonality, and showed her the marks on his palms that revealed the presence of his shaqarava. The next morning, she'd presented him with the gloves - "Just in case you need to keep your hands hidden," she'd told him. "Not all Taelons are as... willing to overlook things as Da'an." Not that he'd needed her to tell him that...

Thank you, Lili, he thought now, pulling on the gloves and stretching his hands. His shaqarava were still itching - worse than ever, in fact - but he was determined to ignore it. For the moment, his immediate concern had to be dealing with the assassin; after McKenna was dealt with, he'd figure out what to do about his shaqarava. But for now, they were just going to have to wait.

So, where is Sandoval? he wondered.

Standing up, he walked over to the exit, nodding to the Volunteer currently standing guard - Private Lucy McGillam, her name was.

"Have you seen Agent Sandoval recently, Private McGillam?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," McGillam replied. She gestured toward the Embassy entrance. "Your security escort just arrived; he went out to meet them."

Liam gave her a smile in response. "Thank you, Private," he said, and started in the direction of the entrance. This time he wasn't as startled as she fell into step just behind him, though he felt more than a touch exasperated. It wasn't as though he was actually going to leave the Embassy - at least, not until Sandoval had their escort all ready...

They're concerned for you, Liam, he thought, reminding himself of his father's words earlier. They want to express their concern; and as long as they're not leaning over your shoulder and getting in your way, it isn't really that much of an inconvenience, is it?

Of course, the fact that a prisoner is escorted the same way doesn't help...

Liam shook his head, a bit irritated with himself. Why was he being so pessimistic lately?

Oh, maybe it's because there's an assassin after you; Zo'or's acting strange - almost nice - to you; Renee and Doors have essentially stabbed you in the back - again... Not to mention the little game you're playing with Sandoval, dropping clues here and there, and the matter of your shaqarava reappearing...

Stopping in the middle of the corridor, Liam rubbed his left hand roughly over his face. Brooding wouldn't solve anything, and it wasn't really his way, either. It was just a combination of fatigue, residual effects from the painkillers, and the fact that he was a target at the moment, that was all. As soon as they caught McKenna, things would go back to normal.

Well, as normal as things get around me, at any rate, he reflected ruefully, but the thought didn't have the same undertone of pessimism as the rest of what he'd been thinking.

"Are you all right, Major?" McGillam asked, her tone concerned.

Liam smiled at her again. "Just tired," he replied, fighting back another yawn. "It's been a very long week so far, and it isn't even over yet."

The smile he got in response was sympathetic. "I can imagine," McGillam said, shaking her head. "Forgive me for saying so, sir, but there are times when I'm very glad that I'm just a Volunteer."

Before Liam could come up with an answer to that, they arrived in the main lobby of the Embassy. There was a group of five Volunteers standing in the centre of the lobby, and Sandoval was walking toward them.

"Major, I was just about to come and get you," Sandoval said as he approached. "Are you ready to leave?"

"More than ready," Liam replied fervently. At last, he was going to be able to get out the Embassy. "I think I actually managed to clear my desk."

Sandoval gave him a faint grin. "For the moment, at least," he said, and the grin widened as Liam's expression showed his dismay at the thought.

"Well, everything I've had up to now is done, and like I said, I am more than ready to get out of here."

Sandoval nodded, and then gestured to the team of Volunteers, who surrounded the two Companion-Protectors to escort them outside. Liam gave McGillam a nod and a friendly wave, and then went along with 'his' security.

The trip to Sandoval's apartment was spent in silence. Liam was starting to feel just a little uncomfortable, as he realized that this would be the first time that he'd ever been to his father's place, and he had the distinct feeling that Sandoval was uneasy about this idea as well. However, it was too late now for second thoughts.

When they reached Sandoval's building, four of the Volunteers got out of the car with them, while the fifth one - the driver - parked the car across the street and settled in. Staking the place out, Liam realized, in an effort to make sure that McKenna didn't show up.

Their entrance caused a number of stares from people scattered around the luxurious lobby, and Liam had to stifle an inappropriate giggle as he remembered Renee's story of how she'd gotten hold of the names of the missing Resistance members after the crackdown, and her description of the doorman's reaction.

The reaction this time wasn't quite as... surprised... but Liam still felt a prickle between his shoulderblades as the stares fixed on him. He didn't like being the centre of attention; a large part of his effectiveness, both as Da'an's Protector and as the leader of the Resistance, was that he stayed out of the spotlight.

He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, and then bit down on a moan of pain as the movement sent a spasm of agony through his right side. Not a wise thing to have done.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sandoval eyeing him with concern - he'd obviously heard the stifled moan. Liam tilted his head at his shoulder in a rueful movement, and Sandoval nodded in acknowledgement.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Liam felt himself start to relax a bit. Yes, he was still surrounded by four Volunteers and Sandoval - which wasn't the most comfortable position for him to be in, even if they were only concerned for his safety - but at least he was away from all the stares.

Then, realizing that Sandoval was talking, he focused his attention on his father.

"I want two of you outside the apartment door at all times," Sandoval was saying to the Volunteers. "When your relief comes on, let them know that as well. As for the other two, one of you join Corporal MacDougall in the car, and the other I want stationed in the lobby. Keep an eye on everyone who comes in or out. You've all been given McKenna's picture; keep a sharp eye out for him. Remember that he's a skilled intelligence operative, and may choose to show up in disguise."

"Yes, sir," the Volunteers chorused as the elevator stopped and the door opened.

One of the Volunteers went out first, checking the hall, and then gestured back to them that it was all clear. Sandoval and Liam followed him out - Liam feeling a bit ridiculous at the elaborate security precautions, but at the same time acknowledging that they were probably a wise idea, if only to keep in practice - and they were, in turn, followed by a second Volunteer. The other two took the elevator back down to the lobby.

Liam followed Sandoval into the apartment - after the Volunteers had given it a once-over and come back out to the hall - and looked around curiously.

The layout was open and roomy, with light cream-coloured walls; a far cry from what might have been expected of the cold Implant personality his father projected to the outside world. The atmosphere was relaxing, and Liam found himself liking the place almost immediately.

"Spare bedroom's that room over there," Sandoval said suddenly, interrupting Liam's inspection of the apartment and pointing to a door on the far side of the main room. "The kitchen's just down that hall, if you want to grab something to eat - though there isn't much there. Bathroom's next to the kitchen."

Liam nodded, and then yawned. "Ummm... If you don't mind, I'll just go to bed," he mumbled through the yawn. "I may have gotten a lot of sleep last night, but I'm afraid I'm tired again."

"That's quite all right, Major," Sandoval replied, not sounding the least bit surprised. "As I said, the spare room's right over there. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll see you in the morning."

Liam nodded, and headed over to the door Sandoval had indicated.

The spare bedroom was... cozy, Liam decided, closing the door and looking around the room. It wasn't large, but it wasn't too small either.

He smiled as a line from a story Sandoval had liked as a young child crossed his mind: "And then she tried Little Bear's bed, and that was neither too high at the head, nor at the foot, but just right."

Well, he was no Goldilocks, but that was the impression he got from the room - that it was 'just right'.

Turning on the lamp set in one corner of the room, he sat down on the bed and pulled off his jacket, draping it over the small bedside table. Slipping out of his shoes, he pulled back the sheets and slipped into the bed, closing his eyes.

Feeling strangely secure, it didn't take long before he was curled up under the covers, sound asleep.

Sandoval sighed as he walked into his bedroom. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he started to slip off his jacket, and then heard a slight crackling noise. Reaching into the pockets, he pulled out a piece of paper. Too tired to pay attention to what it said at that moment, he just put it down on his bedside table next to the birthday card from his son and forced himself to get up and hang his jacket up in the closet.

Getting ready for bed didn't take very long, and within ten minutes, he was lying down under the covers.

As he had every night since he'd first received them, he looked at the two pictures that rested on the bedside table - the pictures of his son - before turning off the light and settling down to sleep.

Sandoval pushed open the door of the restaurant and watched in amusement as his son raced in and headed straight for the video games.

"Which one do you want to play?" Sandoval asked, digging a handful of quarters out of his wallet. The game would keep the boy occupied while Sandoval ordered their dinner.

"Fighter Pilot!" his son exclaimed, the boy's tone telling him that his choice should have been obvious - that was what he wanted to be when he grew up, after all.

Sandoval grinned as he handed over the pile of quarters. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said. "Try not to use up all the money."

The four year old turned a scornful expression on his father, and then focused his attention on the game.

His grin widening, Sandoval went up to the counter and ordered a BLT for himself, and a chicken burger, fries and a small salad for his son.

"And I'll have a cheeseburger," said a familiar voice from behind him, and he turned to see Siobhan Beckett standing there.

"All right... A cheeseburger, and three small Sprites," Sandoval told the server.

He and Beckett waited in companionable silence as their order was prepared, both of them enjoying the relative peace of the family-oriented restaurant. It was very different from where they spent most of their time, and as such a welcome relief from the normal world.

The server put their order on the tray, and as Sandoval paid, Beckett gave him a startled look. "All that for the lad?" she asked, gesturing to the burger, fries and salad.

Sandoval shrugged. "He's a growing boy," he replied. "He's always hungry."

Picking up the tray, he retraced his steps to the video arcade, with Beckett at his side.

His son was absorbed in the game, and Sandoval looked on, amused - and with a touch of pride as well - when he noticed both the high score and the fact that the pile of quarters seemed to be only missing one coin. The boy had the reflexes to become a pilot, at least.

Waiting until he was between levels, Beckett came up behind him and said, "Excellent job, lad!"

"Mother!" the boy squealed in delight, spinning around and throwing his arms around Beckett's waist in a hug. "You're back!"

"Aye, lad, that I am - for a little while, at least. So, is the great fighter pilot goin' to join his father and I for dinner?"

"'Course!" the boy exclaimed. Picking up the pile of quarters, he put them on the tray Sandoval held out and latched onto Beckett's hand as they went to find a table.

They sat down, and Sandoval handed the food out, and then looked at his son with a slight frown. The boy was sitting quietly - which was unusual enough to put him on alert - and was staring down at his hands with a strange expression on his face.

"What is it?" Sandoval asked.

The boy raised his head, and his light grey-green eyes met Sandoval's. "Look, Father," he replied, holding his hands out, palms up, for Sandoval's inspection.

Sandoval obediently glanced down at them, and felt his eyes widen in shocked surprise as he saw the brilliant white light emanating from his son's hands.

Looking back up to ask a question, he abruptly found himself facing Liam Kincaid. The Major's light eyes, illuminated by the glow of the shaqarava shining from his open hands, were fixed on his.

"Can you see, Sandoval? Do you see? Do you understand now?"

Sandoval woke up with a jerk, to find himself sitting up in bed, breathing hard.

It was the same dream. His son, Beckett, Kincaid, shaqarava... the same dream.

Why--

Wait a minute. Shaqarava?

Sandoval frowned thoughtfully.

He had been having the dream for the past five or so weeks, since just before the incident at the Cloister.

Yet he'd just found out Friday morning - only two days ago - that his son was a hybrid... which meant that he most likely did have shaqarava.

So why had his dreams of his son always involved shaqarava?

Could he have known, somehow, before Dr. Curzon had told him?

But how?

Shaking his head, Sandoval sighed as he stood up. It's too early to worry about this, he thought, glancing at his watch to confirm his estimate of the time. He was right - it was just past seven o'clock.

He quickly got dressed and opened his bedroom door, and was surprised at the appetizing smells coming from the kitchen.

Kincaid was sitting on the couch in the main room, fully dressed and reading one of the books from Sandoval's shelves - The Brothers Grimm: Fairy Tales, Sandoval noted.

"Major?" he inquired.

Kincaid looked up, a slightly sheepish expression on his face. "I hope you don't mind," he said, gesturing with the book, "but I've been up for a couple of hours and was getting a bit bored..."

Sandoval shook his head. "No, it's all right, Major. I was just wondering what smelled so good."

Kincaid gave him a shy smile. "It's a Western Omelette," he replied proudly. "Sergeant Higgins was getting breakfast for the other Volunteers, and called up to check if we wanted anything. I asked him to pick up the ingredients, and he dropped them off an hour or so ago, along with some clothes from my apartment. I've already eaten, but I put yours in the oven to keep warm."

"Thank you, Major," Sandoval said, touched. He'd hardly expected Kincaid to make breakfast for them; in fact, he'd intended to have one of the Volunteers pick something up and bring it to them at the Embassy.

The Major's smile widened. "You're welcome, Sandoval," he replied, and then returned his attention to the book.

Going into the kitchen, Sandoval opened the oven and took out the plate, then took it to the table to eat. Out of habit, he opened his global to check his messages.

There were two. The first was from Captain Jardine to say that the Volunteer squads who would be providing security for Kincaid at the festival had been fully briefed on the operation, and would be in position by nine o'clock, half an hour before Da'an was due to arrive.

The other message was encrypted, with a header that indicated it was a secure transmission. Andrew, I hope...

Entering his key, Sandoval watched as the message decrypted itself.

"Ron, this is Andrew. It's about... 1:15 Sunday morning. I'm heading home to get some rest, but I've got some urgent information for you. Very urgent. As in 'you-should-have-seen-this-a-year-ago' urgent. Give me a call as soon as you get this."

Frowning, Sandoval linked to the FBI secure communications net and called Andrew. He got a voice message that simply told him to leave a message at the sound of the beep.

"Andrew, this is Ron. Just got your message. It's 7:30 Sunday morning. I'll be at the Washington Embassy from about 8:15 to 9:15 this morning, if you need to reach me; after that, I'll be occupied until about 3p.m. down in Arizona. I'll talk to you later."

Closing his global, Sandoval started in on his breakfast - and felt a touch of surprise. Kincaid had cooked his omelette exactly the way he liked it, right down to the dash of pepper. How had he known?

More questions. The man is nothing but a huge question mark!

Pushing the thought away for the moment, Sandoval concentrated on enjoying his meal. It had been quite a while since he'd last had a homecooked breakfast - quite a while since he'd had the leisure to prepare one - and he fully intended to enjoy it as much as possible. He'd worry about everything else later.

Fifteen minutes later, he, Kincaid, and Kincaid's escort left his apartment building for the Embassy. Sandoval was quite pleased at the level of alertness displayed by the Volunteers; they were one of his elite teams - not the thugs he used for some of the missions Zo'or and the Synod ordered, but the best of the best.

He was also pleased at the respect they obviously held for Major Kincaid, though once again the younger man appeared to be completely oblivious to their reactions to him. His special teams rarely had anything to do with the Embassy guards, and had never before had anything to do with Kincaid. That they respected him the same way the guards did implied that Kincaid's reputation was well-established among the Volunteers, which could prove quite useful - assuming Andrew's information proved that Kincaid could be trusted, that was.

They arrived at the Embassy without incident, although Sandoval didn't relax until Kincaid was safely within the confines of the building. He was only too well aware of McKenna's skill at long-distance assassination - he'd witnessed it firsthand during the S.I. War. He didn't want to see it demonstrated again on Kincaid.

He dismissed the Volunteer team - they'd been on duty for six hours straight - and told them to get some rest, and be ready for another shift tonight. He hoped that the plan to catch McKenna would work, but he wasn't certain of it. It would be better to be prepared, just in case it did fail.

Private Lannart met them just inside the lobby.

"Sirs," he said, saluting them both, "Corporal Roberts is already here. He's waiting for you in Da'an's office."

"Thank you, Private," Kincaid said, smiling at the Volunteer and waving his left hand casually in response to the salute. Sandoval couldn't help but notice the fingerless glove Kincaid was wearing, and wondered absently if it had anything to do with why the Major had been scratching his hands yesterday.

Lannart followed them as they walked down the hall to Da'an's office, and stationed himself outside the door.

As they entered, Corporal Roberts stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in and saluted.

"As ease, Corporal," Kincaid said, walking over and sitting down behind his desk. He activated his terminal and called up the map of the festival grounds.

Before Sandoval could begin briefing the pilot on his role in the plan to capture McKenna, another Volunteer - one of the Embassy guards - appeared in the entrance.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sirs, but there's someone here to speak to Agent Sandoval," the Volunteer said.

"Who is it?" Sandoval demanded, irritated.

"FBI Special Agent Andrew Patterson, sir," the Volunteer replied. "He says it's urgent."

Sandoval glanced at his pocket-watch and grimaced. It was only 8:20; he'd hoped to have the opportunity to go over the plan - in general, at least - with Kincaid and Corporal Roberts before being interrupted. Couldn't you have been a few minutes later, Andrew? he wondered.

Turning to Kincaid, he said, "I'm afraid it really is urgent, Major; I've had Agent Patterson looking into something important for me. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes...?"

"Of course, Sandoval," Kincaid replied calmly.

Sandoval nodded to both Kincaid and Roberts, and then followed the Volunteer out of Da'an's office and toward the lobby.

"I'll meet him in here," he said, stopping as they reached the room he'd been using as an office for the past two days. "Could you please show him in?"

"Of course, sir," the Volunteer replied calmly, and headed toward the main lobby.

Sandoval sat down at the desk and waited patiently.

About two minutes later, the Volunteer reappeared with a rather haggard-looking Andrew trailing behind him.

"Thank you, Sergeant," Sandoval said.

"You're welcome, sir," the Volunteer said, saluting, and then closed the door as he left.

"Nice setup," Andrew commented, sinking down into the chair in front of the desk and looking around the room. "This your office?"

"No, my office is on the mothership. I'm just borrowing this one while I'm guarding Major Kincaid." He frowned. "You look like hell, Andrew."

"You're hardly one to talk," his friend retorted, then rubbed his hands over his face. "I'm just tired - I've spent about fifty of the past sixty hours working on that little puzzle you gave me."

Sandoval's frown deepened. "The message you left me this morning said that you were going to bed," he commented.

"I did," Andrew replied, yawning.

"Well, it doesn't seem to have done you much good," Sandoval pointed out.

"It's the only sleep I've gotten since Friday morning," Andrew explained. "Which reminds me; I hope you're willing to sign off on my request for hazard duty pay for this one. I spent a good three-quarters of those fifty hours of work digging into the US Military databases, and trying to avoid both their traps and the ones set by your Major Kincaid's friend, Augur. Whose real name, by the way, is Marcus Devereaux; he's got quite the interesting record. He's--"

"Fine," Sandoval interrupted. "I'll sign off on it. And I'm not interested in Augur; I'm interested in Kincaid.

"And that reminds me; why did you come here rather than just send me the information you've got by secure link?"

Andrew's expression became wary. "Because even the most secure link can be compromised, Ron; and believe me, this is not information that you want to get out."

"And why is that?" Sandoval demanded.

"Because this is big, Ron. This is really, really big," Andrew replied.

"Well?"

"Bear with me on this, okay? I'm going to lay it out for you bit by bit so that you understand how I got to the point I did." He must have seen the impatient look that crossed Sandoval's face, because he added, "It's important, all right? I don't know exactly what's going on - I haven't been able to figure that out - and I think you're going to need all the information I can give you."

Sandoval sighed. "All right, Andrew, go ahead," he said, leaning back in his chair. Andrew would do so anyway, and it was easier to go along with him than argue and waste more time.

"Well, you already know the first thing I discovered - that according to his records, Major Kincaid's brainwave patterns are identical to those of Jonathan Doors. I suspect that his friend Augur thought it might be an amusing practical joke - from the records on him, Augur has an... interesting sense of humour."

"He owns a bar called the Flat Planet Café," Sandoval said with a grimace.

Andrew grinned. "Yep, weird sense of humour... my kind of guy."

"That much I know already," Sandoval returned with an exasperated glare. "Go on."

"Anyway, as far as I could tell, there didn't seem to be any more anomalies in Major Kincaid's public records, so I checked his military files. And this is where it started to get really interesting."

Sometimes, I think that if Andrew ever comes straight to the point it will be the end of the world, Sandoval reflected, trying to hold on to his patience - and not succeeding very well. "Will you just get to the point, Andrew?"

"I'm getting there, Ron - be patient," Andrew told him calmly.

Sandoval gritted his teeth. It was a very good thing that Andrew was such a good friend, he reflected. If it had been otherwise, he could never have put up with this. "Andrew, I don't have that much time," he growled.

"Okay, okay." Andrew reached into the briefcase he'd brought in with him and pulled out a huge stack of paper with two photographs on top. One was of Major Kincaid, from his security file; the other was of a group of men, all in uniform, among whom Sandoval recognized William Boone.

Andrew looked at him, and then sighed. "The point... Fine. The point is, Ron, that this man here," he tapped Major Kincaid's picture, "is not Liam Neville Kincaid; or, at least, not the Liam Neville Kincaid who served under William Boone in the S.I. War."

What?! Sandoval stared at his friend in utter shock. That's impossible! "What do you mean? Of course he is--"

"Ron," Andrew interrupted firmly, "trust me on this. They are not the same man." He tapped his finger against the group picture. "This was the first clue. I found it attached to the file of one of the men who died in the Taiwan ambush. This man," he pointed to the man standing to Boone's left, "is then-Lieutenant Liam Neville Kincaid."

Sandoval picked up the picture and studied it carefully. The man Andrew had pointed out was tall, with dark brown - or perhaps black - hair, and was very definitely not the Liam Kincaid that Sandoval knew.

"The first thing I considered was plastic surgery; they have the same basic build, and I figured that he could still have been a POW - some of them ended up taking some pretty nasty damage," Andrew continued, and Sandoval was still too shocked at the evidence he'd been presented with to cut him off. "But then I took a closer look at your Kincaid's file, and found that all the images of the real Kincaid, dating back to his recruitment, had been replaced." Andrew sat back in his chair. "Ergo, your Major Kincaid is not the real Liam Kincaid."

Sandoval got up and started to pace back and forth, the movement betraying his agitation. If Kincaid wasn't really Kincaid, then who the hell was he? All the unanswered questions he had concerning the younger man had just returned back to him, with more added.

"Is that everything?" he asked.

Andrew gave him what might have been termed a glare, if he hadn't been too tired to put much force behind it. "Of course not," he snapped. "That didn't take me all that long to find out at all."

"So what have you been doing since then?" Sandoval asked.

"Like I said, digging," Andrew replied resignedly. "I spent part of that time trying to dig up more info on your Kincaid, but I didn't get anywhere. All his information is falsified, Ron. It's almost as though he didn't even exist before he became Da'an's Protector. So, no luck there.

"But," he added, "I did finally manage to track down the real Kincaid." He tapped the pile of paper he'd dumped on the desk, and Sandoval stopped pacing to give him a curious look. "You would not believe the security they have surrounding that guy's file, Ron. That's what took up the most time - and what I want the hazard pay for."

Sandoval was beginning to regain his equilibrium. Okay, so Kincaid wasn't really Kincaid. That didn't change the things he did know about the man, although it made it much more urgent that he find out exactly who Kincaid really was. "Go on," he prompted Andrew, sitting back down in his chair.

Andrew took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "You've heard of Dark Knight, right?"

Sandoval blinked. I think I'm starting to become inured to surprises, he thought wryly. Between McKenna, the information about his son, Zo'or's behaviour, and now this, he'd had more than enough surprises to fill a year packed into a period of five days.

"Dark Knight?" he repeated, equally quietly. Not that he believed that anyone could hear them, but it was instinctive. This was, as Andrew had said, really really big. "You mean the military's covert underground? The ones who were controlling Mount Weather?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Andrew agreed. "Well, it turns out that Colonel Liam Kincaid is the field commander of Dark Knight."

Christ! Sandoval thought. This situation had just gotten enormously more complex. And to add to it all, the Major had been right in the middle of the Mount Weather situation. Had he and Colonel Kincaid met?

Was it only a week ago that I was looking forward to my vacation, in order to find my son, and the most complicated thing I had in mind was developing a strategy to counter Zo'or's next endeavour?

"Andrew... what do you need in order to determine the Major's real identity?" he demanded. That was the priority right at the moment, especially considering Kinc-- the Major's new position - the position that he had persuaded Zo'or to give the Major. They could worry about Dark Knight later.

"Brainwave pattern would be good; a DNA sample would be even better - and easier to acquire," Andrew replied. "If you can get me his DNA, I should be able to provide you with his identity within twenty-four hours - less, if Augur hasn't set up more booby-traps around the information."

Sandoval nodded slowly. "I'll see about getting it for you," he replied, and then glanced at his pocket-watch. It was going on for nine o'clock; they'd been discussing this for almost three-quarters of an hour, and he still had wanted to run through the plan to catch McKenna one more time, see if he could figure out what had been bothering him about it. "I've got to go; I'll give you a call after I get back from Arizona, all right, Andrew?"

His friend nodded, standing up and returning the papers and photos to the briefcase. "I'll keep these until you have a chance to go through them," he said, gesturing to the case. "I'll show myself out."

Sandoval managed to smile. "Thanks, Andrew," he said quietly, reaching over to shake his friend's hand. "I appreciate your help in this."

Andrew looked at him soberly. "I told you when you got back in touch with me last year that I'd help you with anything, Ron, and I meant it. I don't want you ending up re-implanted with that... that thing, because you trusted the wrong people.

"That said," he added, a touch more relaxed, "the things that I have found out about your Major Kincaid are pretty good. My instincts say that no matter who he really is, you'd be right to trust him."

"Thanks," Sandoval repeated warmly. Then he took a deep breath and pulled his façade back on. "As I said, I'll speak with you later."

Lt. Colonel Gary McKenna frowned as he studied himself critically in the mirror.

He wasn't sure whether or not this thing in Arizona was supposed to be a trap - it depended on whether they'd actually managed to figure out who his real target was, he supposed, since the Synod Leader wouldn't be there. But whether they had or not, one of his secrets to success was to always assume that something this good was a trap.

That didn't mean that he wasn't going to be there. Trap or not, it was the perfect opportunity to deal with his target. He'd be able to get in, make the kill and get out, and they'd be helpless to detect him as he did so. Even if it was a trap.

His frown changed to a smile of satisfaction as he finished studying his reflection. Perfect. They'd never even see him coming.

Picking his duffle bag up off the bed, he slipped out of the hotel room, locking the door behind him. No matter whether he succeeded or failed, he wouldn't be back here.

Liam sat down in the shuttle, still feeling a bit uncomfortable about being the passenger rather than the pilot, and tugged nervously on his gloves. Despite his confidence in the plan he and Sandoval had developed, he was well aware that things could still go wrong.

And to make things worse, ever since Sandoval had returned from that meeting with the other FBI agent, he'd been watching Liam surreptitiously, his expression unreadable.

Ordinarily, even with Liam's intimate knowledge of his father, he wouldn't have noticed. Sandoval had watched him all the time - sometimes suspiciously, sometimes not - ever since he'd first become Da'an's Protector. But over the past several weeks, and particularly the last several days, he and Sandoval had begun to develop an affinity for each other.

But now, something was wrong; Liam could feel the strain on the tentative bond that had been forming between them. Something the other agent had told Sandoval was responsible, Liam suspected.

So what was it?

Maybe I should ask Augur if he can check out... what was his name? Right, Andrew Patterson. If he can check out Special Agent Andrew Patterson. Maybe even find out what he might have told Sandoval.

He tugged on his gloves again, wishing he could scratch his palms. His shaqarava were itching dreadfully; had been since he'd woken up early this morning from a rather ominous dream - or rather, a nightmare.

It had been that shadowy human figure again. Only this time, there had been someone in between himself and the figure; a tall, lean man with thinning blond hair and dark eyes. Lieutenant Colonel Gary McKenna. Even in the dream, Liam had recognized him.

Is it supposed to mean something? he wondered.

Despite what Augur thought - Liam had seen it in his face Thursday morning, when he'd mentioned the presentiment he'd had in Seattle - his visions didn't scare him. Well, not my ability to have visions, anyway, he admitted to himself. There were times when those visions he had did scare him. But the ability itself was something he'd inherited from his mother; and there was nothing he'd gotten from Siobhan Beckett that he feared. Certainly not like he did his shaqarava.

His shaqarava. They were definitely going to be a problem. He'd checked his hands this morning, just after he'd gotten up, and found that the colour hadn't faded any; they were still that dark, angry red. He'd probably be able to get away with wearing the gloves for another few days, but any longer than that and people - like Sandoval, Da'an and Zo'or, not to mention Augur, Renee and Doors - were going to start asking questions. Questions that, at this point in time, he had no idea how to answer.

Although Da'an might... I guess I'm going to have to ask him. He's the only person I can ask...

This has definitely not been my week, he thought ruefully, looking out the front of the shuttle to see that they were about to dock with the mothership to pick up Da'an. Not my week at all.

Da'an was waiting for them in the shuttle bay; as soon as Roberts lowered the virtual glass, the Taelon climbed in and sat down behind Sandoval.

"Everyone ready?" Roberts asked.

"Yes," Da'an replied, and Roberts raised the virtual glass and took them back out.

Ordinarily, Da'an would have been looking forward to attending this festival. The Native American culture - and the way they had managed to keep it intact despite the efforts of the settlers - fascinated him. And he had been looking forward to showing Liam some of the exhibits and demonstrations at the festival; Liam had never been to one before. It might even have provided him with an avenue to begin rebuilding the friendship they had lost.

Unfortunately, Liam was not coming as his Protector; he was coming as bait for an assassin. Da'an would be expected to enjoy himself while his Protector was placing himself in grave danger. It was something that he believed himself incapable of doing. Of course, he was a diplomat, and as such, adept at feigning enjoyment and interest. He preferred to avoid doing that; but this time, it would be necessary.

As they entered ID space, Da'an turned his seat around slightly so that he could see Liam.

His Protector was staring out at the view of ID space, a distant look on his face. Thinking about something - most likely something that had nothing to do with this Lieutenant Colonel McKenna, Da'an surmised.

Then, as Da'an watched, he saw Liam shift uncomfortably and tug at a piece of dark material that covered his right hand. A glove? Da'an wondered, confused. Admittedly, although it was late spring it was still very cool in Washington, D.C., but they were going to Arizona. It would be quite warm there. So why was Liam wearing gloves? It didn't make any sense.

He could ask; might have, a few months ago. Back when there was still some friendship and trust left between them.

Da'an missed the easy communion that he and Liam had shared almost from the very beginning of their relationship; missed that friendship and that trust that Liam had given so freely. But both had been slowly eroded, by degrees, until Da'an had used the trust the Resistance had in Liam to engineer its destruction, and thus destroy the trust between the two of them as well.

As a result, Da'an wouldn't - couldn't - ask. He no longer had the right, not when it was questions of a personal nature.

The view outside changed to that of a plain of scrubby grass as the Volunteer brought the shuttle out of interdimensional - not quite as smoothly as Liam might have done, Da'an noted, but quite well nonetheless.

"Remember, Corporal," Sandoval said, leaning forward in his seat as the Volunteer brought them in for a landing, "keep your sensors focused for any signs of the vaile."

"Yes, sir," the Volunteer replied calmly.

Da'an waited until Liam and Agent Sandoval had left the shuttle before getting out himself. When he exited, the two of them were speaking to a Volunteer who appeared to have been awaiting their arrival.

"Da'an," Sandoval said, turning to face him, "this is Captain Trisha Wang. She and her people will be filling in for Major Kincaid as your security."

"I am pleased to meet you, Captain Wang," Da'an said formally.

"Sir," the Captain acknowledged. "I've already spoken to the event co-ordinators; we are to meet them in that tent," she gestured to a plain, buff-coloured tent, "for the tour of the grounds."

"Thank you," Da'an said. Then he turned to Liam. "Liam... be careful," he said quietly.

Liam appeared to be surprised at the expression of concern. "I will, Da'an," he replied, his tone reassuring. "Everything will be just fine. Sandoval and I will probably join you later, after we've caught McKenna."

"Liam..." Da'an began, not wanting his Protector to get overconfident.

"I'll be careful, Da'an. I promise." Liam paused, and then lowered his voice, obviously not wanting to be overheard. "Da'an... can we talk? Later? There's something..." He hesitated for a moment, and Da'an saw him tug nervously on the glove covering his right hand. "There's something I need to ask you about."

"Of course, Liam. When we get back to the Embassy," Da'an replied, equally quietly. Then he returned his attention to Captain Wang. "If you will lead the way, Captain..."

Lt. Colonel McKenna watched carefully as Kincaid and Sandoval walked away from the Taelon, heading for the perimeter of the festival.

A moment later, the shuttle took off, and McKenna watched as it rose above the crowd and entered ID space.

He nodded, satisfied. Two obstacles down; one to go. Then, finally, he would be able to kill the bastard.

Liam sighed as he looked around. He been past this set of booths twice before already. The first time round, everything had been interesting, and he had to admit that he had dawdled a bit, wanting to see everything. If he'd realized how many times he'd have to go past the same booths, however, he would have left some things for later.

Hearing a hint of music - drums, being beaten rhythmically - he turned to look toward the centre of the festival. Da'an was over there.

Taking out his global, he opened it - and scowled unhappily as he read the program schedule. The music was obviously for the dancing exhibitions, which was something he had been looking forward to seeing. Last week - before the beginning of Sandoval's ill-fated vacation - he and Da'an had been discussing the agenda for the festival and Da'an, noticing the scheduled dance exhibitions, had begun telling Liam about other such festivals he had attended in the past, and had described some of the dances he'd seen in great detail. He'd been so enthusiastic about it that Liam had gotten curious, and had been anticipating the opportunity to see the dancing for himself.

But instead, here he was, stuck on the periphery of the festival and acting as bait, all because some idiot lieutenant colonel whom he'd never met had decided to kill him. He didn't even know why.

Casting a look at his watch, Liam groaned. It had been almost two hours since they'd arrived; two hours of wandering around and making himself look like a target at carefully selected locations.

Sighing again, he re-adjusted his sling to relieve some of the weight on his shoulder, tugged at his gloves - it was too hot for them, really, but he couldn't afford to take them off - and fiddled with his earpiece for a moment.

"Boring, boring, boring," he mumbled to himself.

"Major?" came Roberts' voice. "Did you say something?"

"Just grumbling to myself," Liam replied. "Have you had any luck yet, Roberts?"

Roberts had the shuttle hovering about a mile away; close enough to use the sensors and act as a communications post, but far enough away that McKenna shouldn't be able to spot it.

"Not a thing, sir," Roberts replied, giving a sigh of his own. "No sign whatsoever of the vaile."

Liam sighed again. He knew that Roberts' sensors were calibrated properly; he'd had the Volunteer use the specifications from the information Augur had given him, rather than what Doors had given Sandoval. "Maybe McKenna isn't here at all," he suggested a moment later.

"I doubt that, sir," Roberts replied. "Not that I know what makes an assassin tick, but it doesn't seem to be reasonable that he'd pass up the chance to get at you, sir. Not when he's already tried it three times so far."

Liam frowned. For some reason, something about that last comment of Roberts' made him uneasy. It was true, of course - McKenna had shot at him in Seattle, then again in Africa, and then tried to run him down in Washington. But they knew that already. So why...

Spotting a hint of movement with his peripheral vision, Liam turned around to see the members of Volunteer Squad 3 drift out of the crowd toward him.

"Anything?" he asked, as Lieutenant Kelly Ericsson, the leader of Squad 3, reached him.

"No, nothing, sir," she replied.

Liam sighed. "Well, we've got two more hours of this to go," he muttered, and then sighed again. "Two more hours of total boredom," he added.

Lieutenant Ericsson grinned in response. "Look at it this way, Major; at least it's half over now. And we could always check out the archery competition," she added, gesturing to a range that had been set up nearby. "That might help pass the time a bit."

Liam glanced over at the range, feeling a touch of curiosity. There hadn't been an archery competition the last time he'd passed this way.

A small group of people - a combination of Native Americans wearing traditional garb for the festival and a number of tourists - were apparently competing for some sort of prize. "You're right, that might be interesting," he said.

McKenna shifted position slightly, keeping his eyes on Kincaid and the Volunteers surrounding him.

He'd been right; it was a trap. A very nice one, subtle - probably Agent Sandoval's doing. Sandoval had always had a very devious mind. However, he had detected and evaded traps like this before - and none of the Volunteers running around had spotted him yet, although he'd spent the past two hours tracking Kincaid.

He smiled, and carefully raised his weapon, aiming it directly at Kincaid's heart. In a minute, maybe two, it would all be over...

Sandoval scowled as he wandered around the perimeter of the festival grounds, eyeing the surrounding hills sourly. McKenna could be hidden literally anywhere - and Sandoval still had that nagging feeling that he was forgetting something important - something vital.

His scowl darkened as he noticed members of Volunteer Squad 7 doing the same thing he was, only they were staying a bit closer in to the crowd, attempting to blend in...

Blend in... That... that's what I've been try--

His train of thought was broken as his earpiece buzzed.

"Yes?!" he snapped.

"Sandoval?" came Kinc-- the Major's voice.

"Have you found him, Major?" Sandoval demanded.

"No," the Major replied with a sigh. "There's been no sign of him. And Roberts has spent the past two hours scanning the entire grounds, and says there's no sign of any vaile anywhere around here."

Sandoval frowned. "He's sure of that?"

"Yes, he is," came the reply. "And I am too; remember, we gave him the technical information from my contact, not from Doors."

"Right..." Sandoval muttered distractedly. No vaile... that's important for some reas--

Oh, hell...

"Major! Get out of there - now! McKenna's not outside the grounds - he's in the crowd! Run! That's an order!"

"Wha--" the Major started, and then broke off abruptly. A moment later, Sandoval heard what sounded like a cry of pain.

Swearing bitterly, he started to run through the crowd, even as he opened a channel to the shuttle. "Roberts!" he snapped. "McKenna's in the crowd, near Major Kincaid; he's not using the vaile! Get over there now!"

"Yes, sir!" Roberts replied, and a moment later Sandoval heard the sonic boom of a shuttle exiting from ID space right above his head.

"Major! Get out of there - now! McKenna's not outside the grounds - he's in the crowd! Run! That's an order!" Sandoval's voice snapped in his ear.

Liam blinked, confused, as he tried to sort out what Sandoval was saying. McKenna was where? "Wha--" he started; and then froze as he caught a flicker of light out of the corner of his eye.

An image flashed in front of him, gone almost before he had realized it was even there; a tall man, dressed like a tourist, with a crossbow - and a bolt coming straight for him!

Everything suddenly seemed to be moving in slow motion. Liam spun around, raising his hands in an instinctive gesture of self-defense, ignoring the agony that lanced through his shoulder. Then he cried out in a combination of surprise and pain as he felt the bolt slice into his arm.

If he hadn't moved, it would have taken him in the heart.

Then time snapped back into its normal course, and Liam was aware of the Volunteers who surrounded him reaching for their guns - but only in a very distant fashion. Most of his attention was fixed on the man who stood at one end of the archery range, a crossbow lying abandoned at his feet and another, already nocked, in his hand.

Lieutenant Colonel Gary McKenna.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then McKenna gave him a cold, hard smile. 'Traitor,' he mouthed... and his finger tightened on the trigger, releasing the bolt on a path straight for Liam's heart.

Liam could only stare as the bolt came closer and closer; he knew that he'd never be able to move out of the way in time.

A moment later, he hit the ground as a sudden shove propelled him sideways. A limp weight landed right on top of him, pushing him flat and driving the bolt further into his arm.

McKenna didn't bother to stop and stare at the results of his latest failure; he had only seconds to move if he was going to succeed in getting away. Dropping the second crossbow, he turned and darted into the crowd, most of whom hadn't yet noticed the commotion - their attention was still fixed on the archery competition.

There were shouts from the crowd behind him as the remaining Volunteers gave chase, but he ignored them, just as he ignored the roar of a shuttle coming out of ID space just overhead; unless he had the bad luck to run straight into the arms of another group of Volunteers, they'd never manage to catch him. Not with the amount of chaos their chase was stirring up.

Despite the failure of his attack on Kincaid, a faint smile crossed his face at the thought of the commotion his abortive assassination attempt had created. It was a lesson he had learned well and put to good use over the years. As long as you weren't affected by it yourself, chaos could be one of your greatest weapons.

Sandoval ran through the crowd, pushing people out of his way if they didn't move fast enough. He had to get to Kincaid!

"Sir!" came Corporal Roberts' voice. "Major Kincaid is wounded; and a member of Squad 3 is down!"

Damn it! "And McKenna?" he demanded.

There was a pause, presumably as Roberts checked, and then he answered. "I'm sorry, sir, but they've lost him in the crowd. Sergeant Bracer says he was mingling with the crowd, dressed as a tourist; when they started chasing after him, the crowd realized what had happened and starting panicking. That's when they lost sight of him."

"Have the other squads seal all the exits," Sandoval ordered. He doubted that it would work - not now - but it was worth a try; even McKenna had to make a mistake some time. "What is Major Kincaid's condition?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Roberts replied.

Sandoval thought rapidly, even as he continued running through the crowd. They were starting to get out of his way now, as he got closer to Squad 3's assigned position. "Inform Captain Wang of what's happened," he ordered. Wang - and Da'an - would know that something had happened, since the shuttle was there, but they wouldn't know what. "Then land as close to the Major's position as you can. If he's injured, we're going to need to get him to a doctor.

"What about the Volunteer you said was down? What's their status?" he added.

There was another pause, and then Roberts said, "Critical, sir. She's got some kind of arrow in her chest. According to Sergeant Bracer, Major Kincaid had already taken an arrow in the arm, and McKenna was aiming for his heart; Lieutenant Ericsson pushed him out of the way, but ended up taking the arrow herself."

Damn it! Sandoval had hand-picked each member of his elite squads. While he did know that at least some of them were going to die - in war, that was inevitable - it was still painful when it happened. At least it sounded as though there was still a chance for Lt. Ericsson, assuming they got her to a hospital quickly enough...

Even as he thought this, he could see the shuttle descending a short distance ahead of him; and then he broke through the last of the crowd - most of whom were gathered around what looked like an archery range, staring at the scene of the attack and talking in shocked whispers.

And he stared as well, equally shocked.

Liam blinked at the grass right in front of his nose, slowly realizing that he was still alive. At least, he thought he was still alive; he doubted that being dead hurt this much.

A moment later, he felt the weight that had kept him pinned lifted off his back, and then a Volunteer was crouching next to him, gripping his left arm and asking if he could stand up.

"I-I'll try," Liam replied slowly, surprised at the shakiness of his voice.

With the Volunteer's help, he was able to slowly sit up, but when he tried to stand, his legs were too shaky to take his weight. And to make it worse, the agony from his right shoulder and arm was making him feel sick to his stomach.

"W-what happened?" he managed, trying his best to push away his awareness of the pain.

"Lieutenant Ericsson pushed you out of the way of the arrow, sir," the Volunteer replied.

"Was she hurt?" Liam demanded, alarmed, the concern he felt finally shoving the pain to the back of his mind.

There was a pause, and then the Volunteer replied, "She took the arrow in the chest, sir. It penetrated her vest. The shuttle's coming down now to collect you both."

Damn... "And McKenna?" Liam asked.

The Volunteer looked embarrassed - and ashamed. "He escaped in the confusion, sir."

Liam closed his eyes, and then swallowed convulsively in an effort not to be sick.

"Major... Liam?" came a soft, familiar voice, and he opened his eyes to see Sandoval standing there, a concerned expression on his face.

"I guess the plan didn't exactly work," Liam muttered.

"No, it didn't," Sandoval agreed. Then he frowned. "Major, can you stand up?"

"Tried," Liam mumbled, closing his eyes again. He was feeling so sleepy all of a sudden...

"Can you try again?" Sandoval asked. "Liam?"

"Hmm?" Liam mumbled, not opening his eyes.

"Major!" Sandoval barked sharply.

Sandoval's frown deepened as the Major's eyes opened. The younger man's expression was dazed; it looked as though he was going into shock.

Not that it's much of a surprise, considering, Sandoval reflected, casting a quick glance at the arrow - no, the crossbow bolt - that was still in the Major's arm. They'd have to leave it where it was until they could get him to a doctor, but it would probably be wise to at least stop the bleeding.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around the Major's arm, doing his best not to jar the arrow as he did so. The Major looked pale enough as it was; he didn't want to cause any additional pain.

"San'oval?"

Definitely going into shock, Sandoval thought as he took in the Major's unfocused gaze and slurred speech. "Come on, Liam," he said, moving around to the younger man's left side and putting one hand underneath his arm. "We've got to get you to the shuttle."

The Major managed to get to his feet with Sandoval's help, but he leaned rather heavily on Sandoval as the agent directed him toward the shuttle.

The Volunteers had already gotten Lt. Ericsson's unconscious form settled in the shuttle, with Sergeant Bracer sitting on the floor next to her to hold her steady.

Sandoval got the Major into one of the seats and sat down in the one next to him, then leaned forward. "Washington General, Corporal," he ordered. "And hurry."

"Yes sir," Corporal Roberts said, already calling up the controls and getting ready to take off.

Da'an watched in concern as the shuttle entered ID space, and then turned to Captain Wang. "Did Corporal Roberts say what Major Kincaid's injuries were?" he demanded.

"He was shot in the arm," Captain Wang replied. Her expression tightened slightly. "Lieutenant Ericsson, one of my people, was apparently shot in the chest."

Da'an nodded in understanding. "I am certain they will both be all right," he said confidently, in an effort to reassure both her and himself.

"I hope so," Captain Wang muttered. She then looked at Da'an. "Do you want to continue, or would you prefer to return to the Embassy?"

Da'an hesitated. He definitely didn't want to remain here any longer than necessary; but neither did he wish to go to the Embassy. Based on Captain Wang's description of Liam's injury, it was not serious; nonetheless, he wanted to see his Protector himself. And if this Lt. Ericsson was one of Captain Wang's people, surely she would wish to discover the lieutenant's condition as soon as possible.

"I would like to go to whichever hospital they are being taken to," he replied after a moment of thought. "Did they inform you of their destination?"

"Washington General," Captain Wang said.

"Then let us go."

Dr. Park pulled off her surgical gloves and sighed as she looked over at the bed's occupant. Liam was lying there, eyes closed, still asleep from the effects of the anesthetic.

He looked so peaceful, for once. Young, though not as young as he actually was.

It's hard to believe he's not even a year and a half old yet, she reflected, shaking her head as she remembered the infant she'd delivered. He's too young for this... but he's the only one who can do it.

Tossing the gloves in the bio-disposal bin, she picked up the plastic evidence bag containing the bolt she'd removed from Liam's arm and walked out of the room.

Da'an, Agent Sandoval, and one of the Volunteers who'd been guarding Liam on Wednesday were all waiting for her just outside.

"How is Liam?" Da'an demanded, as soon as she stepped out of the door.

"He's going to be fine," Dr. Park replied. "There were no problems with removing the bolt from his arm, and the additional damage he's done to his shoulder isn't too serious. However," she added sternly, "I'm going to be keeping him here overnight for observation."

"If you believe it to be the wisest course of action, I will not disagree," Da'an replied.

"Definitely the wisest course. I know I said that the additional damage to his shoulder wasn't too serious, but there shouldn't have been any additional damage at all. It's set his healing back by at least a week or two."

Then Agent Sandoval stepped forward, and Dr. Park received the surprise of her life. "May we see him, Doctor?"

Why does Sandoval want to see him? He actually sounds... concerned. Curiouser and curiouser... "He's still unconscious from the anesthetic," she replied, trying her best to hide her shock at Sandoval's request. "He won't be waking up for at least two to three hours."

"Nonetheless, Doctor, I'd like to see him for myself," Sandoval said firmly.

"Very well," she replied; she couldn't think of any reason not to let him. "Oh," she added, holding the evidence bag up, "here's the bolt. I assume you'll need this."

"Thank you, Doctor," Agent Sandoval said calmly, taking the bag, and then he slipped into Liam's room.

A minute or two later, he came back out. "Thank you, Doctor," he repeated, and then turned to the Volunteer. "Corporal Roberts, I want you to guard Major Kincaid until I send a squad to relieve you. No one enters except for Da'an, Dr. Park, myself, and those medical personnel Dr. Park can vouch for personally."

"Yes, sir!" the Volunteer replied, as he came to attention and saluted sharply.

"Good," Sandoval said with a nod. Then he turned to face Da'an. "I'm going to check on Lieutenant Ericsson's status, and then I have some things I need to do. I should be back within the next two hours."

"Very well, Agent Sandoval," Da'an replied. "I shall remain here for a while longer, until you return."

Sandoval nodded to Da'an and Dr. Park, and then started down the corridor toward the waiting room where Sergeant Bracer and Captain Wang were waiting for word on Lieutenant Ericsson's condition.

He walked in to find them both talking to a doctor - one he recognized.

"Dr. Curzon?"

All three turned to look at him. Dr. Curzon smiled. "Agent Sandoval," she replied. "I have some good news; your Volunteer is going to be fine. The point of the bolt nicked her heart, but we were able to repair the damage."

Sandoval relaxed. Both the Major and Lt. Ericsson were going to be fine; that was excellent news. "You performed the surgery?" he inquired.

Dr. Curzon shook her head. "No; I was here observing. The doctor who did the surgery - Dr. Nicholson - was demonstrating a new surgical technique earlier that I was interested in. When I found out that his next patient was one of your people, I stuck around."

"I appreciate your giving us the good news," Sandoval said. Then he turned to Wang and Bracer. "I know you would both like to stay here to see Lieutenant Ericsson, but I would appreciate it if you could join Corporal Roberts in guarding Major Kincaid until I get another squad here. It shouldn't be too long, and you can come straight back here when you're relieved."

Both Volunteers nodded in agreement. "Yes, sir," Captain Wang said, giving him a salute. "I don't think we'll be able to see Kelly for at least another half hour or so anyway, right, Doctor?"

Dr. Curzon nodded. "That's right," she replied. "They've got to get her settled in Recovery first, before she can have any visitors."

"In that case, sir, we'd be glad to," the Captain said.

"Thank you, Captain," Sandoval said, nodding to her.

Then, as soon as the two of them had left, he turned back to Dr. Curzon. "I'm glad to see you here for another reason as well, Doctor," he commented.

"And why is that?"

"I have another favour to ask of you," Sandoval replied. He reached into his pocket and took out a latex surgical glove, in which he'd put the handkerchief he'd used to bind the Major's arm. It was soaked with blood. "I'd like you to extract a DNA sample from this and get it to me."

"Might I ask why?" Dr. Curzon inquired.

"I'm trying to get a confirmation on the identity of the person this blood belongs to," he replied evasively. "I don't want you running a search on the DNA yourself; just give me the information. I've got someone else who will be taking care of tracking it down."

"All right," Dr. Curzon agreed, taking the glove. "I'll take it back to the lab at Bethesda and do a gene analysis.

"By the way," she added, as she turned away, "you owe me one now."

"I'll think of something," Sandoval returned. As she walked off, he took out his global and called Captain Jardine.

"Yes, sir?" Jardine replied.

"I want you to send a squad over to Washington General, west wing, Room 405A. Their orders are to guard Major Kincaid. I want no one to have access to his room except myself, Da'an, Dr. Melissa Park and those hospital personnel that Dr. Park vouches for personally," Sandoval said. "Then, I want you to brief all the elite on the current situation."

"Yes, sir." Captain Jardine frowned thoughtfully. "Would you prefer Lieutenant Abrams', Lieutenant Glover's, or Lieutenant Hartland's squad?" he asked.

Sandoval didn't even have to think about the answer. "Lieutenant Hartland's," he replied. Hartland's squad was one of his elite; Abrams' was regular Volunteers, and Glover's was the Synod's thugs. That would tell Jardine the level of security he wanted for the Major.

"Of course, sir." He paused for a moment. "Sir... about Lieutenant Ericsson..."

"You can tell the rest of Captain Wang's unit that the Lieutenant came through surgery with no difficulties," Sandoval told him. "She's likely to be off duty for several weeks while she recovers, but she will recover.

"Now, if you could get Lieutenant Hartland's squad here as soon as possible, to relieve Captain Wang, Sergeant Bracer and Corporal Roberts..."

"Yes, sir," Jardine replied. "I'll send them immediately."

"Thank you, Captain," Sandoval said, and closed his global. He needed to stop off at home, grab some clean clothes for both himself and the Major, and come back.

Captain Jardine stepped into the briefing room and looked around at the various squad and unit leaders gathered there. He stuck his hands in his pockets for a moment and tapped a small device with one finger, then walked up to the podium.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, people," he said, as soon as the quiet buzz of conversation had died down. "I apologize to those of you who were on your sleep shift when I called, but this is a matter of some urgency.

"For those of you who haven't yet heard, there was another assassination attempt on Major Kincaid in Arizona - and the trap that was planned for Lieutenant Colonel McKenna failed, because he did something that we failed to anticipate." Jardine shot a glare around the room. "He infiltrated the festival as a tourist, rather than taking a position outside the grounds with a sniper rifle, and attempted to kill Major Kincaid using a crossbow. Both Major Kincaid and Lieutenant Ericsson were hit.

"This should never have happened, people. McKenna already tried a sniper attack twice, and he failed both times. His last attempt prior to today was a hit-and-run. This is a professional assassin we're dealing with; we should have realized that he would try something different."

Jardine watched as his statement sunk in. A number of the other Volunteers in the room nodded slowly, understanding what he was getting at.

"The good news is that, although they were both injured, neither one is dead. Kincaid was shot in the arm - not a serious wound; and Ericsson, although she was shot in the chest, has come through surgery with no problems and should be back on duty within a month or two."

Everyone looked relieved at that news.

"The bad news," Jardine continued, "is that McKenna escaped, and is still on the loose." He watched as everyone looked at each other with expressions of dismay.

"So what are we going to do about it?" asked Lt. Victor Pearce, who was Captain Wang's second-in-command.

"That's what this meeting is about," Jardine replied. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the top of the podium. "Agent Sandoval has decided that the elite will be given the sole responsibility for guarding Major Kincaid. He doesn't feel that the regular Volunteers have enough training - and he doesn't entirely trust the Synod's goons not to stand aside if Zo'or decides that they would be better off being rid of Kincaid completely.

"Lieutenant Hartland's squad," Jardine nodded toward Captain MacKierney, Hartland's superior, "is currently taking the first shift at the hospital. Lieutenant O'Shea's squad is already scheduled for one a.m. to seven tomorrow morning. If anyone else's squad wants to volunteer to take a shift, see me after this meeting."

"Captain Jardine, will we be guarding Major Kincaid even when he's in the Embassy?" asked Captain Vassily Nurmanov.

"Yes," Jardine replied simply.

"The Embassy guards won't like that," Nurmanov commented.

"They don't have to," Jardine said. "Our orders come directly from Agent Sandoval. He'll make sure that they understand.

"Now, those of you not on guard duty will be searching for McKenna. I have a copy of his military record, and I'll be distributing it to all of you after the meeting, along with the guard schedule. There are a few highlights that I think need mentioning, however.

"First of all, McKenna is an Army Ranger - one who has fought in numerous smaller conflicts before the S.I. War. He went into Intelligence, and was trained as an assassin. We're dealing with a professional, people - one who's had over a decade of experience in 'dealing' with people that the US government - or the US Army - didn't approve of. That alone will make finding him and dealing with him difficult.

"Secondly, he's determined. He's already attempted to kill Major Kincaid four times over the past five days, using a variety of methods - which means that whatever else he might be after, he definitely wants Kincaid dead.

"The good point to that is that he has failed each of those four times. Even for a professional, that has to sting - especially when his previous record has been... exemplary. He's going to start getting frustrated and angry, which is something that will hopefully work to our advantage."

Jardine looked around at all of them. "As soon as I get the list of squads who will be guarding Major Kincaid, I'll send all of you your assignments by global. Are there any questions before we conclude this meeting?"

Lt. Warren Isaacs, another member of Captain Wang's unit, stood up. "As a matter of fact, Captain, I do have one," he replied. "I understand what you've said about Agent Sandoval feeling that we're the ones most capable of protecting Major Kincaid, but our previous standing orders were to keep clear of him, no matter what. Why has that changed?"

Jardine met his eyes, and then scanned the room. Everyone there looked interested in the answer.

Taking a deep breath, and hoping that Agent Sandoval wouldn't be too upset with him over this, he replied, "Because Sandoval's thinking of bringing him in."

There was a pause, and then the quiet in the room dissolved in a babble of noise as most of the Volunteers present started talking, each one trying to express their opinion.

Jardine let it go on for a minute or two, and then knocked his fist against the podium, and snapped, "Atten-hut!" He was pleased when it took no more than a few seconds for everyone to come to attention. "Agent Sandoval has his reasons for this; and if he decides that Major Kincaid can't be trusted with the truth, then nothing will happen. It is, at the moment, just an idea.

"Now, if I could please see the ones who would like to volunteer for guard duty? I want four more squads, all prepared to stand duty for six hours each. The rest of you are dismissed; assignments and the guard schedule will be sent to you as soon as they have been finalized."

As a group of about seven or eight squad leaders approached him, and everyone else headed out, Jardine fingered the device in his pocket for a moment, and then tapped it again, turning the surveillance devices scattered throughout the room back on. It was time to pull the masks back on.

"Augur, I think you should listen to this," Holo-Lorna said, interrupting him as he was about to start eating his lunch.

"You know, you have the worst timing in the world," Augur snapped, putting his sub back down on his plate. "You're learning too much from Liam."

"This is important, Augur," the hologram said firmly. "Listen." She switched on the television.

"This late-breaking story just in: there has been an assassination attempt on Companion-Protector Major Liam Kincaid in Arizona. This follows less than a week after Major Kincaid was injured saving Synod Leader Zo'or's life during an assassination attempt in Seattle, Washington. Both Major Kincaid and an unnamed Volunteer were wounded, and were rushed to Washington General Hospital in Washington, DC. There were no other casualties..."

Augur shut the screen off and picked up his global. Opening it, he dialed Dr. Park.

"Yes?" Dr. Park said curtly, and then her expression relaxed as she recognized him. "Sorry, Augur; I've just been speaking to Jonathan, and I'm afraid it didn't leave me in the best of moods."

"I'm not surprised," Augur said sardonically. He'd never cared overly much for Doors, but the way the multi-billionaire had treated Liam had made things even worse. "I just heard on the news that there was another assassination attempt; a public one. So, how is Liam?"

Dr. Park sighed. "That boy has either the best or the worst luck in the world," she replied. "He ended up with a crossbow bolt--"

"A what?" Augur demanded incredulously.

"A crossbow bolt," Dr. Park repeated, her tone one of exasperated patience, "stuck in his right arm. He's done some more damage to his shoulder as well, which means that he's going to be stuck with both the sling and the brace for a few more weeks. I'm keeping him here tonight - for observation, and to make sure that he gets some rest."

Augur paused for a moment. "Can I see him?"

The doctor grimaced. "Only if you can come up with a disguise that will let me get you past a squad of Volunteers," she replied. "Sandoval sent them to provide security, and there are two of them standing right at Liam's door, with orders to let only Sandoval, Da'an, myself and any medical personnel that I vouch for personally into the room. The other four are wandering around the hospital, causing trouble." She scowled. "It hasn't been a good day.

"Not to mention I'm expecting Sandoval back within the next hour or so, and he knows what you look like. So it might be a wise idea to wait until I release Liam. I'll tell him that you wanted to come, though."

Augur wasn't entirely happy with that compromise, but he had to admit that parading around in front of Sandoval probably was not a good thing to do. "Okay. Explain to him why I'm not there, will you?"

"Will do," Dr. Park replied, and closed the connection.

Augur tossed his global on the couch and sighed unhappily as he returned to his lunch. He just hoped that Liam would understand why he couldn't be there.

Sandoval walked into the lobby of his apartment building, ignoring the surprised stares cast in his direction by his fellow tenants. He'd gotten some of the same stares when he had stopped at Quantico to drop off the crossbow bolt McKenna had used on the Major.

He was well aware of the fact that he hardly looked the part of the unruffled, immaculate federal agent at the moment. His slacks were dirty from where he'd knelt to help the Major stand up; there was still some blood on his hands from wrapping the handkerchief around the Major's arm; and he suspected that he looked quite haggard.

Nodding to the doorman - who was also staring at him in shock - he entered the elevator, and grimaced at his reflection in the doors as they closed. He looked as bad as he had feared.

A hot shower, first of all. Then clean clothes. Then back to the hospital, he thought tiredly, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

Strictly speaking, he didn't really need to go back - not yet, at least. The Major was going to be sleeping for a while yet, according to Dr. Park; Lt. Hartland's squad was perfectly capable of handling the Major's security - they didn't need him there, looking over their shoulders; and Dr. Curzon was returning to Bethesda to run the tests - and would, at any rate, call him as soon as she had the DNA sample prepared.

However, much as he disliked admitting it, even to himself, Sandoval felt guilty. If he'd been devoting his full attention to capturing McKenna, rather than also searching for his son and puzzling over the Major's mysterious past, this would never have happened. He would have realized that McKenna was likely to try something other than a sniper attack after his first two attempts had ended in failure.

Unfortunately, his attention hadn't been focused. He had been trying to do three things at once, and as a result had missed what should have been obvious.

And how many other obvious things have I missed because of this? he wondered, as he stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to his apartment. Unlocking the door, he walked in, slipped off his jacket and dropped it carelessly on the floor as he headed for the bathroom and a nice, refreshing shower. For the moment, I'm going to have to prioritize things. The first priority is dealing with McKenna; then finding out who Kincaid really is. Then I can continue to work on finding my son.

Twenty minutes later, Sandoval came out of the bathroom wrapped in a terrycloth dressing gown, towelling his hair and feeling a great deal more refreshed. He was definitely feeling more positive now. He'd already set the wheels in motion to discover Kincaid's real identity, and with any luck, they'd catch McKenna reasonably soon. Either that, or Kincaid would be dead.

Sandoval frowned. That wasn't an idea he cared for at all.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he tossed the towel in the hamper and directed his attention to his bedside table.

"I'm sorry," he murmured out loud, reaching out to touch the photograph of the four year old. "I'm afraid we'll have to wait a bit longer to meet."

As he withdrew his hand, a crumpled piece of paper fell to the ground. Frowning, Sandoval bent down to pick it up. Before the inevitable question could form in his mind, he remembered that it was the paper he'd taken out of his pocket last night and put on his table to check later.

Opening it, he saw that it was the note with the directions to the restaurant that Liam had scribbled out for him yesterday. He smiled, re-reading it; at the top of the note, Liam had written: 'It's called The Happy Greek, although no one who works there is actually Greek, much less a happy one.'

Sandoval shook his head in amusement. He really does remind me of a child som--

He suddenly froze, staring. He'd started to crumple up the paper to put it in the trash, when his eyes had fallen on the birthday card he'd received from his son.

Slowly, his eyes went from the birthday card to the paper, and then back again. With shaking fingers, he smoothed out the paper, set it beside the card, and compared the handwriting on the two.

The similarities were unmistakable.

But that... that's impossible! he thought in disbelief, absolutely stunned. "No... There is no way that Liam can be..."

The part of him that was the trained FBI agent took over at this point, in an instinctive reaction to the confusion caused by the idea. "Calm down, Ron, think this through logically..." he muttered to himself. "All right..." There was a long pause as Sandoval collected his thoughts.

Let's examine the evidence. He came from nowhere, has been using another man's name and all his information is falsified - including his brainwaves, which doesn't make any sense whatsoever - unless there's something strange about them. Which there shouldn't be... unless... he's not completely human. And Da'an trusted him immediately; trusted him more than can be explained by the fact that Liam saved his life from the Jaridian replicant at Boone's funeral.

And the reason you weren't able to find any record of the photographs being left in your office could be that Liam left them there when he came to pick you up for the party...

Frowning, Sandoval stood up and started pacing back and forth. It was hard - almost impossible - to believe... and yet at the same time, if it was true, it explained a great deal that had been puzzling him about Liam. And it explained at least some parts of his dreams... although not all of them, and not why he'd been having them in the first place...

All right. Let's assume for the moment that it is true, and Liam is my son... Even thinking it seemed surreal. Assuming that's so, then... who was his mother? And his Taelon parent? And why has Da'an kept it such a secret?

Or is there something else going on here that I don't yet know about, can't yet see?

Sandoval stopped pacing, and shook his head. "This is ridiculous," he told himself firmly. "I don't even know for certain that it's tr--"

His global beeped, interrupting him.

Opening it, he pasted a smile on his face when he saw who it was. No sense in letting her know what was going on. "Dr. Curzon. I assume you have the DNA sample I asked for?"

"Yes," Dr. Curzon replied, smiling broadly. "But I actually called to say congratulations on finding him."

"Him?" Sandoval repeated, though he had a pretty good idea whom she was talking about. Oh, God... it is true...

"Your son," the doctor replied, looking a bit surprised - she'd probably assumed that he had wanted her to check it for him. "That blood sample you gave me was from him."

Sandoval took a deep breath. "I wasn't sure," he prevaricated. "I'm glad you were able to confirm it for me. And I appreciate you getting back to me so quickly on this."

Her smile widened. "I'm glad to help, Ron. I assume this means you no longer need the DNA sample?"

Sandoval thought about that for a moment. He was fairly certain that Da'an knew; but also that the rest of the Synod, including Zo'or, had no idea that Liam was a hybrid. Which meant that for some reason, both Liam and Da'an felt it necessary to keep that information secret.

"You're right, I don't need it." He paused, thinking about how best to phrase his request. "Dr. Curzon... because of who I am, it could be very dangerous for him if anyone else were to discover his identity - discover that he is my son. I'd appreciate it if you could see to it that the sample gets destroyed."

She studied him for a minute, and then nodded. "I'll see to it," she said quietly.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied. "I'll see you in a month for your next appointment; you can tell me how it's going then." With that, she closed the communication.

"How it's going," Sandoval repeated numbly. He stared blankly at the global for a moment, and then sank down onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. This was too much. He couldn't deal with it all. And he didn't even know who Liam's other parents were...

So now what do I do?

Sandoval was surprised by how calmly he was taking this. If it had been anyone else, he might have expected them to be a gibbering wreck at this point.

But then, considering the shocks he'd had heaped on him over the past several days, maybe it wasn't all that strange. He wouldn't really be all that surprised if he was simply numb from emotional overload.

The burning question was: now that he knew the truth, what was he going to do about it?

First, I should probably wait until I'm not so numb to make any firm decisions, Sandoval reflected after a moment. And figure out what I want to do.

Well, no, I know what I want to do, he admitted to himself. But it was going to be difficult - very difficult. Before, when he'd thought that his son was a stranger, it had been easier. Easier to imagine them meeting as father and son. Now...

He really didn't know how to handle this. With the antagonism between Da'an and Zo'or, and Liam's ties to the Resistance, they'd been on opposite sides of the battlefield more often than not.

Hell, I've even... Sandoval swallowed, burying his face in his hands again. I've even tried to have him killed more than once! That he was now trying desperately to prevent someone else from doing the same thing made this entire situation supremely, bitterly ironic.

Taking a deep breath, Sandoval managed to regain control. What was past was past; he couldn't change it now.

Raising his head from his hands, he caught sight of his pocket-watch, sitting on his bedside table next to the photographs. His eyes widened as he noticed the time. It was almost three - he'd meant to be on his way back to the hospital by now!

Standing up, he hurried over to his closet, pulled out a suit completely at random, and rapidly got dressed. He'd have to pick up some clean clothes for Liam later; right now, he wanted to get back to the hospital as quickly as possible.

Dr. Park looked up as the door to Liam's room swung open, and barely managed to keep the scowl off her face when she saw Agent Sandoval in the doorway.

As she'd told Augur, it had not been a good day so far. And the fact that there were Volunteers who were under Sandoval's direct command hanging around - hanging around Liam - made things even worse.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Sandoval looked surprised at her brusque tone of voice. "I wanted to check on... Major Kincaid," he replied.

There was a faint, but noticeable, pause before he said Liam's name, and Dr. Park felt a touch of unease. What did that mean? She kept the thought off her face, however, and simply said, "He's not awake yet."

Sandoval frowned. "Why not, doctor?" he demanded. "It's been..." He flipped open his pocket watch and studied it for a moment. "Almost three hours."

"And I said he would sleep for at least two to three hours," she returned, trying to remain as calm as possible. "It's quite possible he could sleep for the rest of the afternoon; not because of the anesthetic, but because he's worn out."

Sandoval's eyes flickered over to Liam, and Dr. Park was surprised to see a flash of concern cross his face. It was there only for a moment, and then it disappeared, but she had seen it.

Concern? Again? What is going on?

"I'd like to stay with him," Sandoval said then, interrupting her thoughts.

Dr. Park thought about that for a moment or two. She didn't know why Sandoval was suddenly so concerned for Liam, but it was obvious that he was, that he wasn't faking it. And she suspected that it would do Liam some good to know that Sandoval was that concerned.

"All right," she replied finally. "If you want to wait for a minute or two, I'll see about getting you a chair."

"Thank you, Doctor," Sandoval said quietly from behind her as she left the room.

Turning back to the bed, Sandoval took a deep breath. With his eyes closed and his expression peaceful, Liam looked extremely young all of a sudden.

He is extremely young, Sandoval reflected ruefully, sighing. Four years old - if that. Based on what he knew of hybrid growth rates, in fact, it was more likely that Liam was even younger.

Rubbing his forehead with one hand, Sandoval sighed. At some point between the realization itself and his arrival back here at the hospital, he'd found himself accepting the fact that Liam really was his son.

He turned back around as the door opened, and watched as Dr. Park manoeuvered a hard plastic chair into the room.

"I'm afraid this is all I could find," she told him.

Sandoval simply nodded, took the chair, and placed it next to Liam's bed. "Thank you, Doctor," he repeated, sitting down.

"You're welcome," she replied. For just a moment, Dr. Park seemed to be studying him, as if trying to discover exactly what made him tick, and then she looked at Liam. "The anesthetic should be wearing off fairly soon," she said. "I had to give him more than the usual dose; Liam has quite a strong resistance to both sedatives and painkillers. He might wake up with a slight headache, but it should disappear fairly soon.

"On the other hand," she added, shrugging, "as I said, he could end up sleeping all afternoon. That's what would really be best for him - so I don't want you trying to wake him up, or keep him awake if he feels sleepy," she added firmly.

"I won't," Sandoval promised. He'd simply been concerned that it was taking Liam too long to recover from the anesthetic.

"I'll be back in to check him in about an hour," Dr. Park continued. "If he does wake up, buzz me." She pointed to the small call button on the wall just by Liam's head.

Sandoval nodded. Then, as Dr. Park left, closing the door again behind her, he returned his attention to his son. Leaning forward, he brushed a strand of hair out of Liam's face, and then sat back to wait.

The first thing Liam became aware of was the sound of quiet voices from close by. The second was that he was lying in a bed, and that both his arm and his shoulder were throbbing painfully.

What happened? he wondered. Then, as he shifted slightly, a stab of agony went through his shoulder, a sharp reminder of McKenna's attack.

He shot me with a... a crossbow?! It was ridiculous - and if he'd heard it from someone else, Liam knew that he'd never have believed it - but he could remember McKenna standing there, crossbow pointed at him, and the sight of the bolt flying toward him.

Abruptly, the voices caught his attention. Still not opening his eyes, Liam focused his attention on them.

"What about the news crews, sir?"

The voice was vaguely familiar; after a moment, Liam recognized it as belonging to Lt. Yeung, one of Captain Wang's squad leaders.

"Get rid of them," said the other voice - Sandoval's - sharply. "It's bad enough they found out what hospital he's in; I don't want them providing McKenna with any other information, however inadvertently. Threaten them with arrest if necessary."

"Yes, sir," Lt. Yeung replied. "Shall I ask Lieutenant Hartland to... 'speak' with them when he leaves?"

"An excellent idea, Lieutenant. Just make certain that they leave," Sandoval said.

Liam frowned to himself. Why did Sandoval sound so angry?

"Yes, sir," Yeung repeated, and a moment later Liam heard a door open, and then close.

He was probably in the hospital, Liam decided, after a moment's thought. That would make the most sense.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Yeah, I'm in the hospital, he thought ruefully, taking in the white-tiled ceiling and the medical status chart set up by the door.

Turning his head to the side, to get a better look at the room, he was surprised to see Sandoval sitting in a chair next to his bed, studying something on a global. What caught Liam's attention was the fact that Sandoval was dressed in a casual, comfortable looking brown suit, as opposed to one of his regular formal suits; and from the way he was sitting on the uncomfortable-looking chair, Liam guessed that he'd been there for a while.

Licking his lips, he managed to croak out, "Sandoval?"

Sandoval jerked up, a look of surprise crossing his face for just a moment, before the usual impassive mask covered his expression. "Major. I'm glad to see that you're finally awake," he said calmly.

Something told Liam that asking his father why he was sitting here, in Liam's hospital room, wouldn't be a wise idea. Instead, he asked the other question that was weighing on his mind. "Lieutenant Ericsson? How..." He stopped, swallowing in an effort to moisten his throat, and used his left hand to push himself into a sitting position, wincing as the movement jarred his arm and shoulder. He noticed absently that he was still wearing his gloves, which was reassuring. No one had seen his shaqarava.

"She'll be fine," Sandoval replied. "She had to have surgery - the bolt she took when she tackled you nicked her heart. The surgery was successful, and I've been assured that she'll be back on duty within 6 weeks at most." He stood up and pressed a small button just by Liam's head. "Dr. Park should be here within a few minutes," he added.

Uh oh... Dr. Park was going to be furious with him.

A moment later, Sandoval's prediction was proven true as the door opened and Dr. Park stepped in. Liam frowned slightly as he noticed two Volunteers standing by the door before she closed it.

"Good to see you're awake, Liam," she said, giving him a smile. Then she turned to Sandoval. "If you'll excuse us, Agent Sandoval..." she added pointedly.

Liam's frown deepened. He knew that Dr. Park didn't like his father, but usually she was able to keep that under control. Right now, however, she sounded downright irritated.

"Of course, Doctor," Sandoval said, his calm expression never varying - but Liam saw a hint of anger in the back of his eyes. He stood up and slipped out of the room, giving Liam another glimpse of the Volunteers outside the door. This time he had the chance to recognize them - they were from Lt. Yeung's squad.

"So, how do you feel, Liam?" Dr. Park asked, as soon as the door closed behind his father.

"My shoulder hurts," Liam replied, and then coughed.

"I'm not surprised," Dr. Park replied, picking up a glass of water from the small table next to his bed and handing it to him. "I don't know exactly what you did, but the result was quite a bit of additional damage. The collarbone fracture was healing quite well - and quite rapidly," she added, giving him a curious glance, "until you went and made it worse. Quite frankly, Liam, the surprise is that you haven't done any permanent damage to your shoulder.

"What about your arm? How does it feel?"

Liam took a sip of the water, letting it moisten his mouth and throat before he answered. "It hurts too, but not as badly as my shoulder. How bad was it?"

"Not too serious, although you were losing a lot of blood," Dr. Park said. "Quite frankly, the worst damage from this morning was to your shoulder, rather than your arm - thanks to Agent Sandoval, actually. You would have been in a much more serious condition if he hadn't bound the wound at the scene."

Liam frowned thoughtfully. He could vaguely remember Sandoval wrapping something around his arm, but the memory was distant and blurred.

"As it is," Dr. Park continued, "you've lost enough blood today for me to insist on keeping you here overnight. And don't try to argue," she added, noticing the expression on Liam's face. "Da'an and Agent Sandoval are backing me on this. And since it's already a quarter to ten, you're not going anywhere, even if you were to convince me to release you."

Liam slumped back against the pillows, careful not to hurt his shoulder any further. Then a question suddenly occurred to him. "Speaking of Sandoval... why are you so upset with him? I would have thought you'd be pleased that he's agreeing with your decisions."

Dr. Park scowled. "Oh, maybe it's because he has a team of Volunteers running around the hospital, getting in everyone's way?" she said. "Or maybe it's the fact that the guards outside your door have orders to essentially let only himself, me and Da'an in? I've had to personally vouch for each nurse that's needed to come in here, and even after that Sandoval's checked them out before they've been allowed to enter." She sighed. "I know it's for your own safety, and I can definitely agree with the aim of keeping you alive, but I don't like it."

"Trust me - neither do I," Liam muttered. "It feels like I'm living in a prison - and it's only been two-- no, three days."

"And to make it even worse," Dr. Park added, "this is the first time he's actually left this room in over six hours. Each time I've come in to check on you, he's been hovering around, getting in my way."

Huh? Liam blinked in confusion. "Why?"

"You're asking me? I haven't the faintest idea, Liam. I really don't understand what goes on in that man's head. All I do know is that he's definitely concerned about you." Liam blinked again - in surprise this time. Dr. Park studied him for a moment, and then glanced over at his chart. "You should get some more rest. You've had a bad week so far."

"I've just been sleeping," Liam protested, sitting back up. "For the past... How long has it been?"

"Between the shock, the anesthetic and your body's exhaustion, almost ten hours," Dr. Park answered calmly. "Nonetheless, I think you should try to get some more sleep. You may end up a bit groggy in the morning, but your body needs a chance to recover from the damage it's taken, Liam. At least promise me that you'll try."

Liam sighed. "All right, I promise," he replied. "But... there's something I need to tell Sandoval first," he added, as he remembered what McKenna had said just before shooting the second bolt.

Dr. Park looked irritated. "Liam..."

"It's important," he told her. "Very important. It may help us figure out why McKenna's doing this."

Her mouth tightened. "Fine. But as soon as you finish telling him, I want you going to sleep."

Liam nodded in agreement. "Okay."

Sandoval looked up as the door opened and Dr. Park came out of Liam's room. He'd been listening to Lt. Yeung's report of how Lt. Hartland had managed to get rid of the news crews, but most of his attention had been focused on wondering what was going on behind the closed door. How much of the truth did Dr. Park know? After all, she was Liam's doctor of record... And yet, she wasn't cleared for the hybrid project...

Dr. Park came straight over to him. "Liam wants to see you, Agent Sandoval - he says there's something he has to tell you about McKenna."

"Very well," Sandoval said. He started for the door, only to be pulled up short as Dr. Park grabbed his arm. He glared at her icily. "Doctor..."

"There's a condition to this, Agent Sandoval," she said coolly.

His glare intensified. "And what condition is that?" he demanded curtly.

"Liam's been through a great deal over the past five days, and his body's taken a lot of damage. He needs to be fully rested to start recovering - which means that he needs more sleep. As soon as he's told you whatever it is he needs to, I want you to leave and let him get that sleep."

It took a great deal of effort to keep his irritation from showing, but Sandoval managed it. "Of course, Doctor."

Opening the door, he walked in to find Liam still sitting up in the bed, frowning as he stared off into space.

Sandoval took a deep breath. It was going to be difficult, acting as though nothing had changed - but he was going to have to. He wasn't ready to discuss this with Liam yet.

"Major," he said out loud, "Dr. Park said you had something important to tell me?"

Liam's eyes focused on him. "Yes," he replied. "I only just remembered it a minute or two ago. Just before he fired the second bolt, McKenna said something. He was too far away for me to hear, of course, but I'm fairly good at lip-reading. What he said was 'traitor'."

Sandoval frowned, remembering another - now painful - conversation between himself and Liam about treason. "So do you think that McKenna has ties to the Resistance?" he asked, pushing the memory away. He'd already decided that there was no use dwelling on those particular remembrances.

Liam scowled. "I don't know," he replied. "I mean, he may have Resistance sympathies, but I think it's unlikely that he's acting under their orders. Assassination isn't exactly their style, right? At least, they've never shown that tendency before."

Sandoval's frown deepened, but he nodded in agreement. Especially not assassination of a high-ranking member. "I'll look into it, Major," he assured Liam. "Now, I've been informed that Dr. Park feels you need to get some more sleep."

"What about you? Nothing personal, Sandoval, but you have looked better," Liam said, giving him a slight grin. "You probably need sleep as much as I do - if not more so. I've been sleeping all afternoon, after all."

Sandoval couldn't help feeling pleased at this evidence of concern, however disguised, though he carefully concealed it. "I'll be leaving in a few minutes," he replied. "There are two Volunteers on guard duty outside the door, and the rest of their squad is keeping watch on the hospital as a whole. They'll be relieved at one a.m. by another squad, who will be on duty until seven. I'll be back before then."

"Okay," Liam replied. He rubbed his left hand over his face and yawned. "I guess I am tired," he said, sounding surprised.

Sandoval let a smile cross his face. "Good night, Liam," he said, heading for the door.

"G'night, Sandoval," Liam mumbled through another yawn.

Closing the door behind him, Sandoval noticed that Dr. Park had left. Turning to Lt. Yeung and the two Volunteers standing guard, he told them, "I need to go home and get some sleep. Lieutenant O'Shea's squad will be relieving you at one o'clock. Let them know I should be back before the end of their shift."

Lt. Yeung nodded in acknowledgement.

"Until I get back," he added, "Dr. Park is to be the only one allowed access to Major Kincaid. No nurses, no other doctors... just Dr. Park. Relay that order to Lieutenant O'Shea as well."

"Yes, sir!" Lt. Yeung and the guards chorused, saluting.

"Thank you," Sandoval said courteously, and then headed toward the exit.

Renee grimaced and tugged the blankets tighter around herself. "Can't you make this thing go any faster?!" she demanded, shouting to be heard over the roar of the wind.

"Nope!" came the laconic reply from the driver.

"How long will it take us to get there?" she yelled back.

"Another four hours... if it doesn't start snowing again!"

"Great. Just great," Renee muttered sourly, huddling deeper into the blankets. They'd been travelling for the past five hours, and there was still another four to go?!

When it had become clear that the storm around the research station wasn't going to let up any time soon, Aimee Renaud, one of the microbiologists on staff, had suggested that Renee get a ride to the nearest community with an airstrip. It was apparently outside of the worst of the storm, and there was a good chance that she'd be able to at least give Doors a call and arrange for a pickup flight from there. Renee had agreed - after all, she had to be at the meeting tomorrow afternoon.

I'm going to kill them. Slowly and painfully. Starting with Lieutenant Colonel Gary McKenna, as soon as someone gets their hands on him. Then Jonathan. Then Liam and Sandoval. Very slowly. And very, very painfully.

And I am never going to regard travelling by dog sled as 'romantic' again. Ever.

Tugging the blankets tighter again, she shivered. "Four more hours," she muttered. "I really am going to kill you, Jonathan."

Sandoval stopped in the hallway just outside Liam's apartment, pulled out the key Da'an had given him before the Taelon had returned to the mothership, and then paused.

He'd remembered just before he'd left the hospital that he'd meant to get Liam some clean clothes, and so had headed straight here. But now that he was here, he found himself hesitating. It felt a bit strange, walking into his son's home like this.

"Stop being ridiculous," he told himself firmly. "All you have to do is go in, get him some clothes, and leave. That's all."

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door, opened it, and walked in.

Sandoval's first impression of the main room was that it was spartan. There were two bookcases, a couch, a chair, a table, and that was it.

Closing the door carefully behind him, Sandoval walked farther into the room. In spite of what he'd told himself outside the door, about only grabbing some clothes and then leaving, he found himself wandering over to the bookcases to take a look.

There was a very eclectic mix of books there, ranging from Charles Dickens' David Copperfield to Sun Tzu's The Art of War, from Isaac Asimov's Foundation to Lady Gregory's Gods and Fighting Men. There was even a first edition copy of A Christmas Carol.

And sitting on one of the shelves was a Taelon puzzle - a puzzle that Sandoval recognized from the pictures. If there had been any doubt left in his mind that Liam was his son, that would have finished it.

Turning away, he shook his head. It's late. Just get Liam some clothes and worry about the rest later.

Sandoval walked into the bedroom. He shot a quick glance around - this room was almost as spartan as the main room - and then went straight to the closet. He pulled out two pairs of pants, a few shirts - loose ones - and a sweater.

Then, as he turned around, he caught sight of two silver-framed photographs sitting on top of a small chest of drawers to the right of Liam's bed. Walking over, he sat down on the edge of the bed and studied them.

The first one was a picture Sandoval recognized as being from the news of the discovery of Ma'el's tomb just outside of Strandhill. It showed himself, Lt. Beckett, Captain Marquette and Boone standing by the entrance to the tomb, with the Irish countryside in the background.

The other was a picture of himself and Lt. Beckett, obviously taken on board the mothership. Whoever had taken the picture - most probably Liam himself, Sandoval guessed - had caught Beckett smiling at something he was saying.

Siobhan... He felt a sudden surge of grief go through him as he remembered her. It had been almost a year since her death, and he still missed her.

Abruptly, his gaze fixed on the photo of the two of them on the mothership.

"You and I are destined to come together. Whether you like it or not." That was what Beckett had told him.

Sandoval took a deep breath. "Could she--" he murmured aloud, and then stopped as his CVI suddenly pulled up a series of memories.

Siobhan Beckett, sitting in his office, rubbing her forehead with one hand. "Have we met?"

Liam standing quietly, his expression far more serious than Sandoval had seen from him, even during the replicant attack. "No. Not in this life, anyway."

Beckett, sitting on her bed in the hotel room, a cloth spread out before her. "Runes. The Celtic form of Tarot."...

Liam, standing on the bridge of the mothership, casually dressed, grinning insolently at himself and Zo'or. "Sowulo, Mr. Sandoval. The Irish rune of inevitability."

Beckett, again, lying in the hospital bed after the Atavus had attacked her. "There's something I wanted to ask you. What did you mean when you said of course Liam and I would be there together?"

Liam, kneeling on the floor of the cave, Beckett's body cradled in his arms. Bending over her, obviously upset, and then looking up to meet Sandoval's gaze, the cool expression on his face not hiding the anguish in his eyes.

Blinking, Sandoval found himself staring at the photo taken on the mothership.

Siobhan Beckett had been Liam's mother. Of course. It all made sense now.

"Did you know, Siobhan?" he murmured. He didn't think so - Beckett hadn't been privy to the hybrid program, so he doubted that she would have found out about Liam, not when even he hadn't been able to... but he wasn't sure. The way she and Liam had interacted... She had known something, he was certain, but he didn't know what.

He rubbed his forehead. He had known all this - his dreams were proof enough of that - he just hadn't realized it. The question was, how had he known? Was it something Liam - or Da'an, for that matter - had said, or perhaps done? Or was there still more to this matter of Liam's heritage?

Whatever it is, I'm not going to get any answers just by sitting here, Sandoval thought, sighing. Time to go home and get some sleep. Maybe I'll be able to figure it out in the morning. And if not, at least I might be able to decide how to talk to Liam about all this.

Standing up, he looked around Liam's bedroom again, this time ignoring the photos. There was a small duffle bag crumpled in the far corner of the room. Picking it up, Sandoval carefully packed the clothes he'd selected. Closing the zipper, he slung it over one shoulder and then headed out of the apartment, locking the door carefully behind him.

Dr. Park took a deep breath, doing her best to conceal her irritation, as one of the two Volunteers at Liam's door stood aside to let her enter.

As she'd told Liam, yes, she appreciated the fact that they were protecting him, and were apparently determined to do so to the best of their ability. In fact, if she were to be honest with herself, she had to admit that she was impressed by the extent of their determination to keep Liam safe.

At the same time, she didn't like Volunteers in general; and she really didn't like having them hanging around her hospital - much less hanging around Liam.

Completely contradictory responses, she reflected ruefully as she walked into the room and let the door close behind her. But then, in many ways, Liam was a contradiction, so it should be no surprise that he seemed to attract contradictory situations.

Liam was curled up on his left side, sound asleep. Dr. Park smiled at the sight - he really did look much younger with his eyes closed - and then turned her attention to his status chart.

As far as she could tell, as of... this morning, since it wasn't quite midnight yet, Liam's collarbone had been well on the way to healing. If she hadn't known that it had been broken on Wednesday - only five days ago - she would have said that the break was at least two weeks old, if not a bit more. An effect of his Kimera heritage, she assumed.

Unfortunately, whatever it was that Liam had done - she'd heard one of the Volunteers mention that he'd jerked his hands up when he'd moved, just before the bolt had hit his arm - it had put too much of a strain on the newly healed bone, and it had fractured again. Not only that, but he'd also wrenched the muscles in his shoulder, which hadn't been as far along in their healing as the bone. And added to that, the damage that the bolt - which had been barbed - had done to his arm...

She shook her head slowly. If it had been anyone else in this situation - having had their collarbone fractured on Wednesday, and then the additional damage done today - she would have said that they'd never regain 100% strength or mobility. But Liam's rapid healing meant that his shoulder had been healed enough by this morning to ensure that there would be no permanent damage. He would have to wear the sling - and the brace - for several more weeks, rapid healing or not, but that was much better than losing mobility permanently.

A moment later, she heard Liam cry out. Turning around, she hurried over to the bed.

Liam had rolled onto his back, and he was tossing his head and murmuring something, his voice desperate.

Leaning closer, Dr. Park reached out to shake his left shoulder, and then stopped, frozen, as his voice got louder and clearer.

"Va'nei, ditera lius o'onarr..."

It took her only a moment to realize that Liam was most probably speaking in the Kimera language. It sounded similar - but not identical - to what she'd heard of Eunoia. That realization - and the fact that his voice was still getting louder - broke her paralysis, and she shook him gently, hissing, "Liam!"

His eyes shot open. For just a moment, he looked completely confused; then he relaxed as he focused on her. "Dr. Park?" he mumbled. "Is something wrong?"

"You were dreaming," she told him.

"Dreaming?" Liam repeated, blinking. He still looked a bit confused.

Dr. Park shrugged, releasing his shoulder and helping him sit up. "You were talking - in Kimera, I think," she explained. "It sounded as though you were about to start shouting in a minute or two, so I thought it might be a wise idea to wake you up, before the Volunteers outside heard you."

"Thank you," Liam murmured, looking away from her. "I... I don't really remember what I was dreaming."

She nodded in understanding. "Why don't you try to get back to sleep?" she suggested.

Liam shivered slightly. Despite what he'd just told Dr. Park, he had no problem remembering what he'd just been dreaming, and he really didn't want to go back to sleep, for fear it would show up again.

It hadn't been the same nightmare he'd been having recently, the one with the dark human figure and the sense of terror. That would have been too easy.

He shivered again, as the phrase rang through his thoughts... "The last of my kind... I succumbed to a biological imperative..."

"Liam?" Dr. Park questioned, frowning. She must have seen the shiver.

Liam shook his head, trying to erase the memory. He didn't want to think about that. Not now. Not when he was closer than ever before to telling Sandoval the truth.

"Liam?" Dr. Park repeated, her tone getting more concerned.

"I... I just... I..." He shivered again, harder this time, and then bit back a moan as agony stabbed through his shoulder, making him feel nauseous again. "Hurts," he whimpered.

Dr. Park raised her hand to touch his forehead, and he flinched away, another whimper escaping as the pain got worse.

Then there was a sharp pinprick in his arm, and a moment later, Liam felt a blessed numbness spreading through both his arm and his shoulder. He relaxed, sagging back against the pillows. He still felt sick to his stomach, but the pain was rapidly disappearing.

"Better?" Dr. Park asked.

"Yes," Liam murmured. "It's gone numb."

Dr. Park sounded relieved. "Good. The reason you're feeling numb is that what I just gave you was a local anesthetic, not a painkiller."

"Still feel sick," Liam mumbled. He was starting to have trouble keeping his eyes open, as the relief from the pain relaxed him even further.

He wasn't sure whether Dr. Park had actually heard him or not, because all she did was touch his forehead with the back of her hand, and then say, "Go back to sleep, Liam."

Don't want to sleep... Liam thought, but before he could verbalize it, a wave of grey seemed to sweep over him, and he drifted off.

Dr. Park watched as Liam's eyes slid closed and his breathing deepened into a sleeping rhythm. He was running a slight fever, but nothing too serious.

Turning to his chart again, she frowned as she studied it. She wasn't sure whether or not she had been meant to hear his mumbled comment about still feeling sick, but she had.

There were a few different reasons that he might feel sick. Concussion was the one that sprang automatically to mind... but according to the tests she'd run, Liam didn't have a concussion.

Another possibility was that the pain was bad enough to be making him feel sick. That seemed to be the most likely, especially considering the amount of pain he appeared to have been in before she'd administered the anesthetic.

Or he might be mildly allergic to one or more of the drugs she'd used on him. In Dr. Park's opinion, that wasn't all that likely - Liam had never shown signs of being allergic to anything before - but it was still a possibility that should be considered.

Or... it could be a Kimera thing. She was the resident 'expert' on Liam's physiology - but all that meant was that she knew more about him than all the other Resistance doctors, with the possible exception of Julianne Belman. She was all too aware that there were a lot of things that she didn't know - a lot of things that she suspected even Liam didn't know.

In fact, that reminded her - she was going to have to talk to him about the problem with his scans when he woke up in the morning.

Sighing, Dr. Park rubbed her eyes. The only thing she could do at the moment was to make frequent checks on Liam throughout the night - which she'd planned on doing anyway. She looked through his chart once more and made a notation about his temperature. Then she checked Liam again - he was back to sleeping peacefully - and left.

Sandoval got off the elevator on the fourth floor and walked down the hall. He could see a group of five Volunteers gathered around Liam's door; two of them in guard position, and the other three - one of whom was Lt. Nancy Cress, one of Captain Wang's squad leaders - chatting quietly, but with most of their attention obviously focused on the closed door.

Taking out his pocket-watch, Sandoval checked the time - 6:45a.m. Which meant that Lt. O'Shea's squad was still on duty - indeed, he recognized Sgt. Higgins guarding the door - and that Lt. Cress' squad was early.

Just as he was about to walk up to them, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him and turned to see Dr. Park approaching.

"Doctor," he greeted her coolly. He hadn't been happy about her attitude toward him yesterday.

Her mouth tightened as she looked at him. "Agent Sandoval," she responded, equally cool. "Can I help you with something?"

"How is Liam this morning?"

A look of surprise crossed her face for just a moment, and Sandoval realized - too late - that he'd said 'Liam', not 'Major Kincaid'.

Dr. Park made no comment about his slip of the tongue, however. "He was running a slight fever around midnight, but his temperature has gone back down since then. Assuming he's not in too much pain or feeling sick when he wakes up, I should be able to release him by noon," she told Sandoval.

"Excellent," Sandoval replied. "I assume he'll have to wear the sling for a while longer?"

Dr. Park scowled. "Liam's going to have to wear both the sling and the brace for another four to five weeks, minimum," she replied firmly. She stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to face him. "Quite frankly, Agent Sandoval, it's a miracle that there's no permanent damage to either his shoulder or his arm. I've already told Da'an that I want Liam put on medical leave for the next two weeks in order to give him at least some time to heal, and he's agreed to it."

Sandoval nodded slowly. "I'll see what arrangements I can make to facilitate that, Doctor," he said, and once again saw a flicker of surprise cross her face. "Major Kincaid is one of my best people, Dr. Park," he said, not sure why he was providing her with an explanation, but doing so nonetheless. "I need him at the top of his form."

The hostility that Dr. Park had been projecting lessened noticeably at that. "Good," she declared, as they resumed walking down the corridor. "I could definitely use your support when I tell Liam. He'll be... upset."

That, Sandoval suspected, remembering the scene he'd walked into on Wednesday, was a very strong understatement. "As I said, Doctor, I need him at his best," he assured her.

As they reached Liam's door, all five Volunteers came to attention. "Report," Sandoval ordered Sgt. Higgins.

"It's been quiet, sir. No sign of McKenna anywhere. Dr. Park," the Sergeant nodded in her direction, "has been checking on Major Kincaid every half hour or so."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Sandoval replied. He gestured to the door, and Higgins obediently opened it to let himself and Dr. Park in.

"I hope you brought breakfast," came Liam's voice from the direction of the bed. Looking over, Sandoval saw Liam sitting up, watching them.

"No breakfast," he admitted, shaking his head, "but I did pick up some clean clothes for you." He walked over to the bed and put the duffle bag down on Liam's lap.

Liam looked down at it, and Sandoval saw a hint of wariness enter his expression. There was no sign of it in his voice, however. "Thanks - I don't really want to wear yesterday's clothes again," he commented. Then he looked hopefully at Dr. Park. "Did you bring me any breakfast? I'm hungry."

"Yes, I had guessed that much," Dr. Park replied, her tone one of wry amusement. "Actually, I didn't expect you to be awake just yet. Last night was a little rough."

Sandoval frowned slightly, looking between the two of them in confusion. Had something happened?

"I'm fine," Liam countered brightly. "But I really am hungry..."

Dr. Park sighed. "Agent Sandoval - the cafeteria is on the first floor, South Wing. I need to discuss a few things with Liam, so if you could pick him up something to eat?"

Sandoval firmly pushed down his irritation at the suggestion. She's his doctor, he reminded himself. Of course there would be confidential matters she needs to discuss with him. And even if she does know the truth, she doesn't know that I know. "All right. What would you like, Liam?"

Liam opened his mouth to reply, but Dr. Park stepped in. "Toast, some soup if they have it available, and orange juice."

"But..." Liam protested.

"Toast, soup and orange juice," Dr. Park repeated.

Sandoval nodded, and headed back out.

Liam watched his father slip out the door, and then looked back at Dr. Park. "Why can't I have eggs, or even waffles?" he asked.

"I don't know whether or not you remember, Liam, but last night you were complaining about feeling sick. Even if you are feeling much better - which I'm not sure that I believe, by the way," she added, giving him a pointed look, "I don't want you having anything that might upset your stomach."

Liam grimaced. Dr. Park was right - he wasn't feeling quite as well as he was pretending. His arm and shoulder were throbbing painfully - although it wasn't nearly as agonizing as last night - and he'd kept waking up every hour or so, in an effort to ensure that he didn't have that dream of Ha'gel again.

All the same, he was feeling much better than he had been yesterday.

"All right. I won't argue about breakfast," he said finally. "But I am feeling better."

"That's good to know," she replied.

Liam nodded and then looked down at the duffle bag on his lap.

He'd recognized this bag as soon as his father had dumped it on the bed - it was his. Was, in fact, the one he'd tossed into a corner of his room about a week and a half ago, when he'd been looking for the frames he'd picked up for Sandoval's present. He hadn't yet gotten around to picking it up, which meant that to have gotten it, Sandoval had to have been not only in his apartment, but his bedroom.

Where he kept the pictures of Sandoval and Beckett.

Had his father seen them?

Abruptly, another thought occurred to him.

Looking back up at Dr. Park, he frowned. "Why did you want Sandoval out of here?" he demanded.

"There's something we need to discuss," Dr. Park replied. She walked over to his status chart and pulled up an image, recognizably that of a human figure. Most of it was a uniform pale blue, Liam noticed, but there were two bright red areas that corresponded to his right shoulder and arm.

"What is that?" he asked.

"This is the results of your medical scan from yesterday," Dr. Park explained. "The red areas indicate physical trauma."

"So what do we need to talk about?" Liam inquired. "It doesn't look like there's any other problems - it's just my shoulder and arm."

Dr. Park shook her head. "I'm afraid you're wrong about that, Liam," she said somberly. She tapped the chart, and another image appeared beside the first. In this one, the human figure was white, except for the right shoulder, which was the same bright red as in the other image. "This is the results of the scan we did on Wednesday."

Liam frowned, starting to feel a bit uneasy. "Why are they coloured differently?"

"That is the sixty-four million dollar question," Dr. Park said. "Your scan from yesterday should have been white as well, not blue. I even had one of the medical techs ask me if I needed the scanner re-calibrated." She turned to look at him. "Do you have any idea what's going on?"

Liam took a deep breath. It didn't take a genius to realize that this was probably connected with the reappearance of his shaqarava, following as it did right on the heels of that.

Looking down at his hands, he spoke quietly. "Do you remember, a few months ago, I told you that I had lost my shaqarava?"

"Yes," Dr. Park replied. Judging from her tone of voice, she didn't understand the connection. Well, she would in a moment.

"Saturday, Sandoval pointed out to me that I've been scratching my hands a lot over the past several days." Liam pulled off his right glove and turned his hand over, showing her his palm, and the dark red mark in the middle. "I don't know exactly how long they've been like this - I only actually noticed them on Saturday when Sandoval asked me why I was scratching so often - but the itching started Thursday morning, I think.

"Probably that - whatever it is," he said, waving his left hand in the direction of his chart, "has to do with the reason my shaqarava have reappeared."

Dr. Park nodded thoughtfully as Liam slipped the glove back on. "Once this entire mess is dealt with, Liam, I'd like you to come in for a few tests. Maybe we can figure out what's going on."

"I'm all for that," Liam replied, and then quickly shut up as the door started to open. Dr. Park hastily changed the display of the status chart back to the main screen, and they both looked toward the door as Sandoval entered, carrying a tray.

"Oh, lovely," Liam grumbled, in an effort to make everything appear normal, glaring at the contents. "Toast. Are you sure I can't have waffles instead?"

"Now, now, Liam... if you want me to release you today, you'll eat everything that's on that tray - and only what's on the tray," Dr. Park declared, giving Sandoval's selections - toast, what smelled like chicken noodle soup, and a glass of orange juice - a nod of approval.

"All right, you win," Liam muttered. "But I get to decide what I'm having for lunch." He gave his father a faint grin as Sandoval put the tray down on the table beside the bed, and was delighted when Sandoval returned it.

"Liam... There is one more thing I need to mention," Dr. Park added, just as Liam started to reach for the toast.

Liam turned to look at her. Her voice held a note of wariness that told him he wasn't going to like whatever she was about to say. "What is it?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm putting you on medical leave for at least two weeks."

"What?" Liam practically shrieked. "What do you mean, medical leave?"

Dr. Park crossed her arms over her chest, her expression unyielding. "Exactly what I said. I told you yesterday that you did more damage to your shoulder. It's worse off than it was on Wednesday, and I was reluctant enough to let you go back to work then. There is no way that you're going to be doing anything physical for the next several weeks. I've already spoken to Da'an about it, and he's agreed."

"But..." Liam began, and then stopped as she glared at him. Instead, he turned to Sandoval - his father had helped him on Wednesday, after all. "Sandoval..."

"Dr. Park is right, Major," Sandoval said curtly. "Until we catch McKenna, you will continue to stay at the Embassy all day, but you won't be doing anything more strenuous than paperwork. And as soon as McKenna is caught, you're going on full medical leave."

"But..." Liam repeated.

"Don't make me make it an order, Major," Sandoval snapped.

Liam slumped back against the pillows. "Fine," he said sulkily. Then, as Sandoval started to hand him the plate of toast, he turned away. "I'm not hungry any more."

He didn't need to look at them to know that Dr. Park and Sandoval were exchanging looks of exasperation.

"Liam, you have two choices," Dr. Park said. She sounded more than a bit irritated, but right now Liam didn't care. "Either you eat, or I'll be keeping you here for another day."

Liam hesitated, and then looked at her. The expression on her face said quite clearly that she was not joking.

"Fine," he said sullenly, and took the toast.

Doors looked up from his computer as the door to his office was flung open and Renee Palmer, looking unusually disheveled, strode in.

He glanced down at his watch, and then shot a glare at her. "Where have you been? It's almost eleven; I was expecting you an hour ago so that we could go over the agenda for this afternoon's meeting."

Renee met his glare with one of her own. "Don't start with me, Jonathan," she said coldly. "I am not in the mood."

"You have an obligation--" Doors began.

"You should have thought of that before you sent me into the middle of an Arctic blizzard," Renee snapped in response. "I have spent the past four hours on a cargo plane - and ten before that on a dog sled, getting to a location where the plane could land!"

Doors blinked in surprise. "Why didn't you use the emergency portal?" he asked. "The meeting this afternoon is important enough to justify the risk."

Renee froze. "Emergency portal," she repeated.

"Yes."

"What emergency portal?"

Doors frowned. "The one at the research facility, of course."

Renee slowly sat down on one of the chairs facing his desk. "No one mentioned any emergency portal to me," she said, with an icy calm.

"Renee, you know the operating procedures as well as I do. You helped write them up!" Doors said. "All facilities have at least one portal for use in an emergency. That includes the Arctic research station."

"I saw no sign of it on my security inspection," Renee declared, frowning. "And I saw all the rest of the facility - including the thermal baffles."

Doors frowned. That isn't good... "It sounds like there may be a problem up there. After the meeting, I'll contact Dr. Greenbaum and speak to her about it," he declared.

"All ri--" Renee began, and then stopped as Doors' global went off.

Opening it, Doors sighed when he saw that it was Dr. Park. She looked rather frazzled, he noticed absently. "Yes, Doctor?" he said.

"You said you wanted to be kept updated on Liam's condition," Dr. Park answered. "I thought I might as well let you know that I'm going to be releasing him soon."

"So he's fine, then," Doors said.

Dr. Park frowned at him. "He's well enough to be released," she stated. "That doesn't mean that he's 'fine'. He's going to be in a sling and brace for another month or so."

"But there was no serious damage done?"

"Only because he is who he is," Dr. Park replied, her expression darkening. "But no, there's no serious damage."

"Thank you, Doctor," Doors replied, and closed the global.

"What was that about Liam?" Renee demanded.

"McKenna tried again yesterday," Doors explained, leaning back in his seat. "He wounded Liam, and seriously injured a Volunteer. The media is having a field day with this, since Liam's now been officially identified as the target."

"Lovely," Renee muttered sourly. She sighed, and then stood up, brushing ineffectually at her slacks. "I'm going to go get changed, Jonathan. It shouldn't take me more than fifteen minutes. Will we still have time to go through the agenda then?"

Doors nodded. "Just enough," he replied. "The meeting's at one."

"All right; I'll see you in fifteen minutes, then," Renee said. She brushed at her slacks one more time, then gave up and walked out, heading for her own office.

Liam ignored both Sandoval and their Volunteer escort as he stalked through the corridors of the Embassy heading for Da'an's office. He knew that he wasn't behaving like the adult he appeared to be, but right now he didn't really care.

Yes, his shoulder was hurting - and yes, he was willing to admit that he'd probably made it worse yesterday - but that was no reason for Dr. Park to put him on medical leave! After all, it wasn't as though he was actually going to be doing much in the way of physical work - but he was supposed to be taking command of the pilots next week, and he couldn't exactly do that if he was on medical leave...

And Sandoval! How could he support Dr. Park on this?! He should know how much work this new position was going to involve!

Then, to make a bad situation worse, there was the little matter of his new retinue. Upon leaving the hospital, Sandoval had informed him that the escort was a permanent fixture until McKenna was caught - meaning that they were going to be with him constantly, including in the Embassy! The Embassy guards weren't going to be happy about that...

Added to that, of course, there was the fact that although he had been feeling up to a proper meal for lunch, Dr. Park had put her foot down and he'd ended up having soup - which he was rapidly coming to hate.

He walked into Da'an's office, and was halfway to his desk before he realized that Da'an was there.

"Liam," the Taelon said, standing up from his chair and walking over. "I am gratified to see that you are looking better."

For a brief second, Liam debated letting Da'an know just how angry he was about this whole medical leave thing, but after a moment's thought, he quashed the idea. Dr. Park had said that she was the one who had mentioned it to Da'an; the Taelon had probably just gone along with her. Of course, if he happened to find out otherwise...

"Thank you," he said, continuing toward his desk. "I'm certainly feeling much better than yesterday. But I thought you were up on the mothership."

"I needed to do some work from here," Da'an replied quietly, gesturing gracefully. "And... you wished to speak with me about something, I believe."

Oh, right...

"Umm..." Liam hesitated, his eyes flicking over to where Sandoval and the Volunteers were standing, talking quietly. Da'an followed the direction of his gaze, and then nodded slightly, indicating his understanding.

"Agent Sandoval, there are some things that Major Kincaid and I must discuss privately," the Taelon said.

"Of course," Sandoval replied.

Liam frowned. Sandoval had sounded calm, but there was something... he was angry.

He's been angry quite a bit lately - and for no apparent reason. What's going on?

Sandoval turned and said something quietly to the Volunteers, and then turned back to Da'an and Liam. "Two Volunteers will stay just outside; the rest will patrol the Embassy. I'll be in the office next door." With that, he walked out, followed by the Volunteers.

Looking back at Da'an, Liam was surprised to see that the Taelon apparently hadn't noticed Sandoval's anger.

"What did you wish to discuss, Liam?" Da'an asked.

Come on, Liam, you've already decided to tell him. About the shaqarava, at least, if not the scans.

Taking a deep breath, Liam leaned back against his desk. This was going to be hard, trusting Da'an again after his betrayal of the Resistance... but at the same time, it did involve his Kimera heritage, which was something that Da'an had kept secret from the very beginning, and that they'd never had any arguments about. Unlike his involvement with the Resistance...

Enough, Liam. Just tell him.

"I... Last year, after we dealt with that Jaridian probe you sent me after," Liam began hesitantly, "my shaqarava disappeared."

Da'an stared at him, the movements of his hands expressing his shock at Liam's words. "That... Liam, that is impossible," he said firmly. "Your shaqarava are a part of you; they cannot simply disappear!"

This probably wouldn't be the best time to bring up the fact that that was exactly what the Taelons had created the Commonality to do. "Well, they did," Liam replied, his tone sharp. Then he took another deep breath. "But..."

Rather than trying to explain what had happened, he carefully peeled off his right glove - trying not to jar his arm or shoulder - and showed Da'an his palm.

Da'an stared at the dark red mark on Liam's palm in surprise and shock.

"I don't know, but I think... I think something may be wrong with them," his Protector continued. His voice sounded a bit shaky, and as Da'an returned his gaze to Liam's face, he could see that the young man was scared, though he was doing a good job of hiding it. "They've been itching since Thursday, and... they're not supposed to be that dark, are they."

"I do not know, Liam," Da'an admitted reluctantly. "May I examine them?"

Liam hesitated, and Da'an blushed pale blue as he saw the uncertainty on the young hybrid's face. It was yet another sign of the damaged trust between them.

Then, abruptly, Liam pulled off his left glove, revealing a matching dark red blaze. "Here," he said, holding his hand out.

Da'an took it, and lost control of his façade as he felt the energy radiating from Liam's shaqarava. There was so much energy there that perhaps it wasn't surprising the shaqarava were so dark.

"Da'an?" Liam asked, sounding worried.

Da'an let go of his Protector's hand and re-built his façade. There is so much energy... and yet, standing here, right next to him, I cannot sense any of it. Why?

"Da'an? Something is wrong, isn't it? Da'an?"

Liam sounded scared, and Da'an hastened to reassure the young hybrid. "No, Liam, nothing appears to be wrong," he replied.

Liam relaxed in obvious relief at the reassurance. "Then why are they like this?" He gestured with his left hand. "Like I said, I don't know for sure, but I am fairly certain that they're not supposed to be this dark."

"Your shaqarava currently contain a great deal of energy, Liam," Da'an explained. "More energy than I thought possible - and that I can only sense when I touch you. I believe that if you can find some way in which to discharge this energy, they will return to normal."

"Discharge it?" Liam repeated blankly, staring down at the dark red marks of his shaqarava. "How?" And why is this happening?

Da'an's hands moved rapidly, indicating exasperation. "Perhaps you should try activating them," he replied.

Liam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Activate them. It sounded so easy, the way Da'an said it. But...

The problem was, he had only consciously used his shaqarava three times. The first time had been when he'd rejoined Da'an to the Commonality. The second time had been when he'd thought that Zo'or and Sandoval were going to make him insane - but that time had backfired, and he'd ended up nearly killing Augur. And the third time had been in Maiya's dimension, when he'd told the alternate Da'an who he was. Every other time, it had been instinctive - even when he'd healed Augur.

Remember how you did it in Maiya's dimension, he told himself. Taking another deep breath, he concentrated.

It didn't work. His shaqarava stubbornly refused to activate; and, in fact, the itching only got worse.

"It's not working," he told Da'an.

The Taelon frowned. "Are you--"

Before Da'an could finish whatever it was he was trying to say, the door opened and one of the Volunteers from the escort - Corporal Pancyk, Sandoval had introduced him as - stepped in. "Major, there's a Lieutenant O'Neal here to see you, sir."

Lieutenant O'Neal? Liam wondered, frowning, even as he hastily grabbed his gloves from the desk. Oh, right! He'd been so pre-occupied with worry about his shaqarava and the current situation with McKenna that he'd almost forgotten about the interviews he'd scheduled for today.

"Who is this Lieutenant O'Neal, Liam?" Da'an asked, while Liam pulled the gloves on.

"He's one of the Volunteers I'm interviewing about the pilot training program," Liam explained. He nodded to the Volunteer. "Please send him in, Corporal Pancyk."

"Yes, sir!" the Volunteer replied, saluting.

Da'an waved one hand as he returned to his chair. "We will continue our discussion later, Liam," he said, sitting down just as Lt. O'Neal walked in.

Liam nodded, and then turned his attention to the Volunteer. "Thank you for coming, Lieutenant," he said, and gestured to the chair in front of his desk as he sat down in his own chair. "Please, sit down. I'm afraid this may take a while."

"That's all right, sir," Lt. O'Neal replied calmly. "My squad isn't on duty until later this afternoon, so I've got the time."

"All right," Liam said. He turned on the computer and pulled up the file of the questions he needed to ask. "Now, just to explain to you what's going on, Synod Leader Zo'or has appointed me to the position of Flight Commander, effective next week." If I can convince Da'an and Sandoval to cancel this medical leave, that is. "One of the first things I want to look at is the training program for the pilots. You went through it a year and a half ago, but didn't graduate. I was hoping that I could ask you some questions about your experience."

"Certainly, sir," O'Neal said agreeably. "What is it you want to know?"

"First of all," Liam began, "how were the training sessions structured?"

Sandoval scowled at the huge - and growing - pile of files on the desk, and wondered why he'd ever thought that working out of the Embassy for a while would let him escape his paperwork. He was supposed to be on vacation right now. He wasn't supposed to be dealing with an assassin after his second-in-command, while at the same time discovering that that self-same second-in-command was actually his son!

Sighing, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. It had only been about twenty-four hours since he'd made that little discovery, and he was still trying to deal with all its implications... not to mention the questions it raised.

First of all, there was still the matter of who Liam's other parent was. That was something he probably wouldn't be able to find out unless - until - he talked to Liam; especially since Da'an had kept this whole thing a secret from him...

Sandoval pushed that thought away firmly. Getting angry with Da'an over this, while it might be personally satisfying, wouldn't gain him anything.

Secondly, there was the mystery of how, exactly, Liam had gotten involved with the Resistance. Sandoval had fought against Jonathan Doors long enough to know that inviting a hybrid into his movement was the very last thing he would have wanted to do. Although it did, perhaps, provide an explanation for why Doors didn't like Liam...

It was the third question, however, that was weighing on his mind.

Can he ever forgive me for what I've done to him? Will he ever forgive me? And how--

The sound of his global beeping broke the silence in the office, pulling him out of his brooding thoughts.

He opened the global, and frowned as Captain Jardine's face appeared. "Captain. Any progress?" he demanded.

"Not much, I'm afraid, sir," Jardine replied, shaking his head. "Lieutenant Pearce's squad has found the hotel in Phoenix that McKenna stayed in Saturday night, but he checked out yesterday morning before the festival, and didn't leave anything behind.

"I've currently got people checking with the airlines, and two squads going through the records at the Portal Authority," he added.

Sandoval sighed. "I'm not trying to malign your efforts, Captain, much less those of the elite, but I think that it's unlikely they're going to find anything. McKenna is a professional, one who's been trained by the best. He isn't going to be that easy to find."

"Yes, sir, I'm aware of that," Jardine replied calmly. "However, even the best people in the world make mistakes. And yesterday was the fourth time in five days that he's tried to kill Major Kincaid - and failed. That's got to be eating away at him - which makes it all the more likely that he'll make a mistake, overlook something. And when he does, we'll be there, waiting for him."

Sandoval nodded slowly. Jardine had a point - not even McKenna was perfect. He was bound to make a mistake sooner or later - hopefully sooner.

But they couldn't afford to count on it. Not when Liam was in danger.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. Everything seems to come back to Liam.

"Sir?" Jardine asked.

Sandoval shook his head, irritated with himself. Now was not the time to be woolgathering. "What about the Embassy surveillance teams?" he asked.

"The first shift is already there," Jardine replied. "I have the next four shifts already lined up - each shift a mix of elite and regular Volunteers." He paused for a moment, and then added, "Major Kincaid appears to be quite popular, even among the elite. There were a number of squads who wanted guard duty."

Sandoval nodded. "That's one of the reasons I've been considering bringing him in, Captain."

Jardine waited.

Leaning back in his chair, Sandoval studied his aide's face thoughtfully. "What has the reaction to your little announcement been?" he asked. He hadn't intended to reveal his plans for Liam to the general elite just yet, but since it had been done, he was interested to know the results. The fact that Jardine had overstepped his authority in revealing that information... well, he'd deal with that later, once this situation with McKenna was over and done with.

"The general feeling appears to be that if your investigation has a positive result, it would probably be a good thing. Especially with this new move of Zo'or's, appointing the Major as Flight Commander."

Sandoval nodded again. "Thank you, Captain," he said. "Please keep me apprised of the progress on the search for McKenna."

"Yes, sir," Jardine replied, and Sandoval closed his global.

Putting it down on his desk, he leaned forward and rested his head on his hands, his thoughts going automatically back to Liam.

Now what?

Sooner or later, he was going to have to talk to Liam about the fact that he knew. Personally, Sandoval preferred that it be sooner; but unless he came up with an idea of how he wanted to handle the talk, it was probably going to be later. Much later.

"Stop it, Ron!" he muttered out loud. Talking to Liam about their relationship was not his first priority at the moment, as much as he wished it could be. Keeping Liam alive - and safe - so that they could actually have that conversation was.

And to do that, he had to find and stop McKenna.

The elite were already looking for him, and Sandoval was confident that they'd do everything they could to find him. However, as he'd pointed out to Captain Jardine, McKenna was a fully trained professional assassin. And they couldn't afford to count on getting lucky.

Who do you use to trace a professional?

Another professional. Looks like I've got another job for you, Andrew.

Opening his global again, Sandoval dialed into the FBI communications net.

Andrew wasn't an assassin, of course; but his speciality was tracing people, whether through computers or - occasionally - in the field. In his own way, he was just as much a professional as McKenna - except that his profession didn't involve killing people.

A minute or two later, Andrew's face appeared on his screen. "Ron?" he mumbled blearily. "Whas up?"

Sandoval sighed. "Obviously not you," he commented.

"Gimme a break," Andrew returned, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "I just got out of bed ten minutes ago. I haven't even had my coffee yet." He was, however, sounding more alert by the second.

"I have two requests," Sandoval told him.

"O-kay..." Andrew replied slowly. "What are they?"

Sandoval took a deep breath. "First of all... I need you to put your investigation of Major Kincaid on hold." Yes, he's definitely more alert now...

"Wait a minute... what do you mean, put it on hold?" Andrew demanded. "You gave me the definite impression that this was very impor--"

"Andrew!" Sandoval interrupted him.

"What?"

"I... All you really need to know is that I've come across some information that has... changed the situation. There's something of more immediate importance I need you to look into at the moment."

Andrew frowned at him. "Changed the situation?" he repeated. "How?"

Sandoval rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's not something I can explain to you right now, Andrew; it's too... sensitive. Let's just say that you were right when you told me that you thought he could be trusted."

Andrew's frown deepened. "Ron..." he began.

Sandoval held up one hand, silencing him. "For the moment, I'm afraid that you're just going to have to take my word for it."

Andrew studied him thoughtfully for a moment, and then Sandoval saw him nod. "All right. So, what is this other thing you want me to do?"

"Have you heard about the assassination attempt on Major Kincaid?" Sandoval asked.

"Assassination attempt?" Andrew repeated, blinking in surprise. Sandoval nodded, and Andrew responded by shaking his head. "No. I've been busy, remember? I mean, I heard about the attempt on that Taelon, but nothing about the Major..."

"Actually," Sandoval said, "the attempt on Wednesday was also aimed at Major Kincaid."

"Why?" Andrew asked. "And do you know who this guy is? Or is that what you want me to try finding out?"

Sandoval shook his head. "No, we know who he is. His name is Gary McKenna; he's a lieutenant colonel in the US Army Rangers," he explained. "I met him a few times during the S.I. War. He's a professional assassin. And as for why he's after Liam... The best guess I've been able to come up with, based on something he said yesterday, is that it has something to do with Liam's position as a Companion-Protector."

Andrew nodded slowly, a vaguely puzzled look on his face. "Okay... Makes a certain amount of sense, I guess, if you assume that he doesn't like Taelons... So, what do you want me to do?"

Sandoval leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. "We need to find McKenna, and we need to find him fast," he replied. "I've got most of the elite working on it - the rest of them are guarding Liam in shifts - but this sort of situation isn't really something that they're fully trained to handle. I'd appreciate it if you could see what you can do about locating him."

"Sure," Andrew replied.

"Thanks." Sandoval tapped the screen. "I'm sending you a copy of McKenna's file now; with any luck, it should be able to help you narrow down your search."

"Got it," Andrew said after a moment. "I'll get right on it, and I'll give you a call as soon as I've got something, okay?"

"Okay. And Andrew?" Sandoval added. "Thanks again."

"No problem," Andrew replied nonchalantly. "What would you do without me, Ron?" he added, grinning, and then closed the connection.

Closing his global, Sandoval tossed it back onto the desk, and then turned his attention to the files. Paperwork was hardly his favourite thing in the world, but he couldn't go out chasing McKenna himself, which meant that he had to do something else - besides brood or get angry - and paperwork was it.

Doors stood up from the table and smiled as he looked around the small conference room. Things had gone quite well.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you again, gentlemen," he declared.

"The pleasure was ours, I assure you," replied Saïd ibn Muhammad, snapping his briefcase closed. "This venture of yours should prove to be quite profitable."

"I certainly hope so," Doors said. Then he gestured to Renee. "If you don't mind, Ms. Palmer will show you out."

Sitting back down, he watched the three other men - ibn Muhammad, Henri Reynaud, and Alistair Tradden - follow Renee out the door.

Glancing at the clock in one corner of the room, he grimaced slightly. It was already four o'clock - it had taken a while to get all the niggling little details of the agreement ironed out. However, now that it was done... His grimace became a smile.

Five minutes later, Renee came back in.

"So, what did you think?" Doors asked.

Sitting down opposite him, Renee nodded slowly. "It went well," she replied. "But..."

Doors frowned. "But what?" he demanded.

"There are definitely some people who aren't going to like this."

Doors closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. "Renee, if you think I care what Liam thinks..."

"I'm not just talking about Liam," Renee countered. "You're going to polarize things again, Jonathan. It was bad enough after you started your run for the presidency, and then after the crackdown, but now..." She shrugged.

"This is necessary," Doors replied coldly. He was beginning to wonder if Renee might not be losing her edge. If so, that was yet another thing he could lay at Liam's door. "We need this, Renee. We've lost too much as it is."

Renee shook her head. "I just hope you know exactly what you're doing, Jonathan. After what happened on Friday, I'm starting to wonder if Liam's going to start pushing back... and what he's going to do when he does. Bringing Sandoval down on us... that wasn't like him."

Doors sighed again. "Renee..." he began, and then stopped. Reiterating the fact that Liam wasn't human - and therefore didn't react like a human would - wouldn't do any good. Instead, he said, "Yes, I do know what I'm doing. And I can handle Liam."

Renee looked at bit doubtful at that, but Doors ignored her expression. Instead, he returned to the original topic of discussion. "So, you agree that it went well."

"Very well," Renee said, nodding as she accepted the switch in topics. "Particularly with M. Reynaud."

"Henri and I go back a long way," Doors told her. He paused, and then added, "Do you think they'll have everything ready for inspection on schedule?"

"Most of it, at least. Certainly the important parts," Renee replied.

"Good. We'll see about arranging that next week." Then he looked at the clock again, and frowned. "We're going to have to leave that call to Dr. Greenbaum until tomorrow, I'm afraid. It's too late to be contacting them today without attracting undue attention."

Renee nodded in agreement. "In that case," she said, standing back up, "I'm going to head home and get some sleep."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

As soon as she had gone, Doors leaned back in his chair and studied the opposite wall thoughtfully.

"Yes... if need be, I can handle Liam."

Liam leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead as he watched Sergeant Valdez - one of the pilots who had been trained since Lili's death - leave the office.

It had been a long day so far, with four Volunteer interviews - and another one to go - and a number of less than pleasant surprises. He was feeling confused, scared, tired, and his shoulder was throbbing again.

And to make it worse, every time he so much as touched his desk, he could see odd flickers of light out of the corner of his eyes, almost like the one he'd seen just before his vision yesterday morning - the one that had warned him about the crossbow bolt. But when he tried to focus on the flickers, they would disappear; and the effort was giving him a headache.

What time is it? he wondered absently, glancing at his watch. Then he blinked in surprise. It was only six o'clock? It feels like today has lasted forever!

Before he could begin trying to work that out, the door opened again and Sandoval came in. Liam started to ask if Sandoval felt like getting some dinner, and then stopped, surprised, as his father glared at him.

"Sandoval?" he managed after a moment. "What... what's wrong?" His father looked so angry...

"Major, did I or did I not tell you that the only thing you were to be doing was paperwork?" Sandoval demanded.

Huh? "I haven't--" Liam started.

"It's a very simple question, Major," Sandoval interrupted coldly. "Did I or did I not tell you?"

"You did," Liam replied, starting to feel irritated all over again. "But--"

"And what have you been doing over the past five hours?" Sandoval continued, ignoring his protest.

"I've been talking to some of the Volunteers who've undergone pilot training," Liam returned.

Sandoval's glare became even colder, if that was possible. "Since when does conducting interviews qualify as 'paperwork', Major?" he demanded.

Liam took a deep breath and tried to refrain from making a snarky remark; he didn't particularly want Sandoval any angrier than he already was. "It isn't paperwork in the strictest sense of the word, no," he admitted, "but it's a non-strenuous activity..."

He trailed off when it became obvious that Sandoval wasn't listening to him. Instead, the Implant turned to face Da'an, who had shut off the datastream he'd been concentrating on for the past few hours.

"I've already made arrangements for Volunteer Roberts to take you back up to the mothership, Da'an," Sandoval said. "The Major and I will be leaving now."

"Wait a minute..." Liam protested. He still had one more interview scheduled today!

"Certainly, Agent Sandoval," Da'an replied calmly, ignoring him as well. "I will see you both tomorrow morning."

"Of course," Sandoval said, nodding, and then he turned back to Liam. "Major..."

Liam didn't move. "I've got another interview in fifteen min--"

"It's been cancelled."

Liam stared at his father in disbelief. "What? What do you mean, it's been cancelled?" he demanded.

"Exactly what I said," Sandoval replied curtly. "You are on medical leave, Major. The only reason you are here, rather than staying either at home or in the hospital, is because McKenna is after you."

Liam stared at him in disbelief. "Sandoval, I have got to get these interviews done!" he protested. "I'm supposed to take command of the pilots next week!"

Sandoval took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Yelling at Liam wouldn't do any good.

He'd come out of the office for a break just in time to see a Volunteer leaving Da'an's office - a pilot, one that he didn't recognize. He'd asked Lt. Hartland what was going on, and the lieutenant had told him that Liam was interviewing pilots, and that he had another interview scheduled in twenty minutes.

He had immediately demanded the name of the Volunteer in question, called her, and cancelled the appointment. Liam had been in the hospital just this morning; he was in no condition to be doing interviews. And then Hartland had told him that there had been three other interviews before this last one...

He'd walked into Da'an's office, and had been horrified at how haggard Liam looked. It was obvious that he was in pain, despite his efforts to hide it.

And then Liam had to go and give him this ridiculous statement about continuing the interviews, when it was obvious that he was in no condition to do so...

Sandoval took another deep breath, and let it out in a silent sigh. Remember, he is in pain, he told himself firmly. That's undoubtedly part of the reason for his attitude. And he's right that under normal circumstances, this is exactly what he should be doing. But these aren't normal circumstances.

I'm going to have to talk to Zo'or about this. Otherwise, Liam is going to keep pushing himself too hard.

Now, all I have to do is figure out how to convince him that it is time to leave...

"Major," he said, calling on the same patience he used in dealing with Andrew, "you were in the hospital only this morning. You're very obviously in pain. It's time to go. Assuming you feel better tomorrow," he added, "and I do mean better, Liam - it might be possible for you to continue the interviews then."

Liam looked as though he wanted to argue, but as he leaned forward, his right arm brushed against his desk, and he went pale.

"That's it," Sandoval snapped, suddenly feeling furious. "Where did you put your painkillers, Major?"

Liam swallowed. "In the drawer," he managed.

"Liam?" Da'an said, his tone concerned. Sandoval berated himself for not having noticed the Taelon approaching, even as he hurried around Liam's desk and opened the top drawer. "Are you all right?" the Taelon continued.

"Just... jarred my shoulder," Liam replied.

Sandoval shot him a sharp look as he took the bottle of pills out and emptied three into his palm. There was something about Liam's tone of voice... he was lying. Or at least, not telling the whole truth. He didn't mention it, however. Instead, he simply handed Liam the pills and slipped the bottle into his pocket. "Take them," he ordered.

Liam obediently put them into his mouth and swallowed.

"Now, we are leaving," Sandoval continued firmly. He gripped Liam's left arm gently, and helped him stand up. "We will see you tomorrow, Da'an," he added, as he steered Liam toward the door.

Da'an watched as Agent Sandoval led Liam out of the office, concerned. He was worried about Liam; there was so much happening to the young hybrid at the moment. Too much, perhaps.

He hadn't been paying attention to the information he was supposed to be dealing with over the past two hours; instead, he'd been keeping a concerned eye on Liam, watching as he grew paler and paler. He'd been just about to call Agent Sandoval when the Implant had walked in.

And then, to find out that Liam had been pushing himself because of Zo'or's decision to place him in charge of the pilots...

Da'an sat down in his chair and called up his datastream, contacting Zo'or.

"Yes?" Zo'or demanded. "What is it, Da'an?"

"I must speak to you about Major Kincaid," Da'an replied.

Zo'or's expression hardened. "I have made my decision, Da'an, and it is final. Major Kincaid will be placed in command of the pilots."

"I will not attempt to convince you otherwise," Da'an promised. He still wasn't certain that he liked the idea of Liam gaining that much control over the Volunteers, but he had already decided not to argue with Zo'or about it. "However, I thought that it would be wise to advise you of the fact that Dr. Park wishes Liam to be put on medical leave for the next two weeks. There is concern that he will attempt to do too much, and perhaps injure himself permanently."

Zo'or studied him, and Da'an let him sense the concern he felt for Liam.

"Very well," Zo'or said after a moment. "I will delay the implementation date."

"Thank you, Zo'or," Da'an returned, and then dismissed the datastream.

Standing up, he started toward the Embassy entrance, where the Volunteer would be waiting to take him back to the mothership.

Sandoval sat down at his desk and leaned back in his chair.

Although his study was very different from the rest of his apartment - the walls were done in dark green, rather than light cream, and this was where he kept his art collection - both areas relaxed him, served as a sanctuary from the rest of the world.

It was only ten-thirty, not all that late - not for an Implant - but Sandoval felt very tired; exhausted, in fact.

A large part of that was, of course, due to the shocks he'd received over the past two days. Finding out that Liam was his son...

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed.

As for Liam... well, as soon as they'd reached his apartment, Liam had gone to bed; he hadn't even been interested in eating.

Of course he wasn't interested, Sandoval thought, irritated with himself. Despite the painkillers, Liam's shoulder had obviously been hurting him a great deal. It wasn't really that much of a surprise that he had simply wanted to go to bed and go to sleep.

Liam...

Sandoval sighed again. It was time to start thinking about this, rather than just reacting - which was all he'd really been doing for the past thirty-two hours. He had a valid excuse for it, admittedly - after all, it wasn't every day that he found out that his subordinate was actually his son - but enough was enough. He couldn't afford to continue reacting; he had to start making decisions, before he made a serious mistake.

The first decision was one that he'd actually made already - he did want a relationship with his son, as a father. There had been no question about that. That particular decision had been made the moment Dr. Curzon had told him that he had a son, and finding out that his son was Liam hadn't changed that; it had just given him pause.

However, the second decision was going to be more difficult; this was the one that had been bothering him for the past day.

How was he going to talk to Liam? He didn't even know that Liam wanted this... although the fact that he had given Sandoval the pictures was a fairly good indication that he did.

Well, he'd already decided that catching McKenna was the first priority, so he didn't intend to broach the subject with Liam until after they'd dealt with McKenna.

So, how was he going to do it? It wasn't exactly a conversation that he wanted to wing by the seat of his pants...

Start off with the photos from his apartment... ask him about them, came the sudden thought.

Yes, that might do it. Sandoval nodded slowly as a plan started to form.

Then he yawned.

Well, I might as well get some sleep. I've got the beginnings of an idea... Sleep will help me focus it.

Standing up, Sandoval headed out of his study, and then hesitated. His gaze went to the door of the spare room, where Liam was. Then, unable to resist the need to make sure that his son was all right, he walked over and opened the door.

Liam was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, his eyes screwed tightly shut and his face flushed. Remembering Dr. Park's comment about Liam running a fever last night, Sandoval slipped in.

Just before he reached the bed, Liam whimpered softly, and then called out, "Va'nei, liea o'onarr!"

Starting to get worried, Sandoval placed his hand against Liam's forehead.

Liam immediately sighed and relaxed, the tension in his face easing, though he didn't wake up.

His temperature was only a degree or two above normal - nothing to be too concerned about, Sandoval knew, although he was still a bit worried. He'd check again in the morning, and if he needed to, he could always call Dr. Park.

"Good night, Liam," he said quietly, standing back up. Liam stirred, murmuring something that Sandoval couldn't quite make out, and then slipped back into a deep sleep.

Leaving Liam's room, Sandoval went straight to his own and sat down at the edge of the bed, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Va'nei, liea o'onarr..."

Leaning back against the headboard, Sandoval frowned as he stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling. The words - and they had been words, he was certain of that much - weren't from any human language that he knew of.

They also weren't Eunoia.

So... what language were they? And how did Liam know--

A voice - his own - as he descended into darkness... "You're a complicated host, Mr. Sandoval."

"What the hell?!" he said out loud, sitting bolt upright, startled by the sudden CVI-induced intrusion of memory. What did Ha'gel have to do with Liam?

Zo'or, standing on the bridge of the mothership, berating him. "And you haven't offered any explanation of how Agent Kincaid was able to defeat the replicant with an inadequate weapon," Zo'or was saying curtly. "And more importantly, how was Da'an able to miraculously rejoin the Commonality after he was cut off from it?...

"By rejoining the Commonality, Da'an has accomplished something only the Kimera could do... Ha'gel's race. The genetic predecessors of the Taelons."...

Then his own voice, making another suggestion. "There is another link between the two events. Liam Kincaid was with Da'an when the replicant attacked, and when Da'an rejoined the Commonality."

Liam, seen through the security camera installed in the Embassy to help monitor the trap for the replicant. "I'm good at games."

Da'an replying, "Not as good as you are at hiding the truth."

Liam, looking nervous and confused at the same time. "The truth?"

Da'an turning Liam's hand over. "As written in your palm."

Dr. Curzon, on his global. "The anomalies in your son's DNA look almost like Taelon genetic material."

Ha'gel... the Kimera... almost like Taelon genetic material...

"Oh, my god..." Sandoval gasped, his eyes widening in shock. Liam's not a Taelon hybrid... he's Kimera. And Da'an knows...

He lay back down, staring blankly up at the ceiling again as he tried to deal with this latest revelation. It was obvious that he wouldn't be getting very much sleep tonight.

Lt. Col. Gary McKenna looked around carefully as he got out of the cab. He had no doubt that the entire area was under surveillance, but he was confident that he wouldn't be spotted. Between the vaile and the plans he'd managed to acquire, no one would even have a clue that he'd been here until it was too late. And by that time, Kincaid would already be dead.

His lips pulled back in a snarl as he thought about Major Kincaid. The man was unbelievably lucky.

There had been other occasions when he'd failed to kill a target the first time, for some reason or another; it was inevitable. Nothing and no one was perfect. But he'd never needed more than two attempts to take out a target. Until now, that was.

Well, there was no way that Kincaid would be able to survive this.

He patted the duffle bag he was carrying. Ordinarily, he disdained methods such as this, because of the huge risk of civilian - innocent - casualties; but no one who would be there when the time came was an innocent.

"We'll see who has the last laugh now, Kincaid."

It was the noise from the room next door - the kitchen - that woke Liam up.

He opened his eyes, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment while he took stock of how he felt.

His arm was hurting quite a bit, his shoulder even more; and to top it all off, his shaqarava were still itchy - and still dark red, he observed in dismay, as he carefully sat up and pulled off his right glove to check his palm.

On the positive side of things, however, while he was still in pain, it was definitely less than it had been yesterday.

Another sound came from the kitchen - the soft 'clang' of an oven closing - and Liam's stomach grumbled in response. Thinking back, he realized that he hadn't had any dinner the night before - no wonder he was hungry!

Standing up, he glanced down at himself and grimaced. By the time they'd arrived at Sandoval's apartment last night, he'd been too tired to do anything but collapse in bed. As a result, he was still wearing yesterday's clothes.

Rifling through the duffle bag he'd dumped on the end of the bed, Liam pulled out a clean shirt and got changed, doing his best to avoid jarring his shoulder. He didn't entirely succeed, and by the time he was finished, he was pale, shaking, and resigned to the need to take another dose of painkillers.

Glancing around the room, Liam was momentarily puzzled at not seeing the bottle of pills anywhere; then he remembered - Sandoval had put it in his pocket just before they'd left the Embassy yesterday.

Liam grimaced again. The last thing he wanted to do right now was let Sandoval know that he was still in that much pain, but he didn't exactly have much of a choice. He only hoped that Sandoval would at least believe that he was feeling better today.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door of his room and slipped out, heading for the kitchen.

Sandoval was standing at the stove, his attention focused on a frying pan and holding a spatula in one hand. Liam could smell the pancakes he was cooking.

"I hope I get to have some of those," Liam said, his tone pleading.

Sandoval whirled to face him, a startled expression on his face. "Liam! I didn't expect you to be up this early."

"Early?" Liam repeated. He glanced at his watch, and felt a touch of surprise; it was only six a.m. So what is Sandoval doing up at this hour? "I just got up," he said, frowning slightly as he got a good look at his father.

Admittedly, neither he nor Sandoval had gotten much sleep since this mess had started - except for his drug-induced slumber Friday night and Sunday - but right now, his father looked more as though he hadn't gotten any sleep at all last night. His eyes were bloodshot, and Liam could see the dark circles under them.

For a moment, Liam thought about mentioning this fact; but then he re-considered. He had a sneaking feeling that mentioning it might just prove detrimental to his health. Instead, he looked toward the stove. "So, do I get any?" he asked.

Sandoval sighed. "Yes," he replied, his tone one of mild exasperation. "There's already a full batch made and keeping warm in the oven. If you go sit down," he gestured toward the table, "I'll bring them over.

"And Liam, take the painkillers," he added, his tone making it more an order than a suggestion.

Sandoval had already set out two places, with plates, cutlery, and orange juice. Sitting next to one of the glasses of juice were three tablets. Liam shot a quick glance at his father, a bit puzzled by the action, then obediently sat down and swallowed the pills.

"So, how are you feeling?" Sandoval asked, as he brought over a tray stacked high with pancakes.

"Better," Liam replied, eyeing the pancakes hungrily.

"Good," Sandoval replied. He paused for a moment, and then continued, "I spoke to Zo'or a bit earlier this morning."

"Oh?" Liam asked, slipping three of the pancakes onto his plate. "What did he want?"

"There's going to be a slight delay in your promotion to Flight Commander," Sandoval said calmly.

Liam looked up at his father, startled. "A delay?" he demanded, suddenly suspicious, fearing he knew the reason. "Why?"

Sandoval looked exasperated. "You may feel better than yesterday, Major," he said pointedly, "but you are still on medical leave. Zo'or would prefer to wait until you are capable of resuming your full duties before he gives you another responsibility.

"Therefore," he continued, "I have re-scheduled the interviews you arranged for two weeks from now."

Well, at least he bothered to re-schedule them, Liam thought sourly. Then, taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself down.

If he thought about it rationally, he knew that Dr. Park, Sandoval and Da'an were perfectly right about putting him on medical leave; but he didn't really want to admit it.

"So what am I supposed to do today, then?" he demanded, trying to keep his tone as civil as possible.

"There's always paperwork," Sandoval suggested with a slight grin.

Liam slumped in his chair. "I've done all I can," he said. "Everything that's left needs my signature, and I can't sign anything until my shoulder's better."

"In that case, you can always help me with mine," Sandoval said. "I have a huge pile on my desk, and I haven't been able to even look through most of it yet."

There was something about the way Sandoval said that - maybe his tone of voice, Liam wasn't sure - that stopped his first reaction, which was to reply with a snide remark. Instead, he forced himself to keep quiet and consider his options for a minute.

Doing paperwork was boring, yes... but having nothing to do was even worse. He was going to have to be at the Embassy anyway, and since Sandoval had cancelled the interviews he'd had planned, there was nothing else for him to do; or, at least, nothing else that would keep him occupied for a full day.

As well, Sandoval really did look as though he could use a break; and this was something that Liam could do to help his father out.

"All right," he agreed.

Sandoval nodded, and then gestured at Liam's plate. "I thought you were hungry," he remarked. "Those pancakes are going to go cold if you don't eat them soon."

Liam grinned, suddenly in a much better mood, and then returned his attention to his breakfast. There was no way that he was going to waste good pancakes - not after yesterday!

It was going on for 7:30 when they arrived at the Embassy.

Liam shifted uneasily as he and Sandoval waited for Lt. Cress' squad to form up around them for the walk from the car to the Embassy. He'd found himself becoming more and more nervous the closer they got to the Embassy, a feeling that was only exacerbated by the presence of the Volunteer escort. And to make matters even worse, the flickers of light that he'd been seeing out of the corner of his eye yesterday were back, and starting to give him another headache.

As they entered the Embassy, the two Volunteers on guard in the foyer saluted, and Liam stopped to speak to them.

"Everything quiet?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Ramsey replied, nodding. "According to the surveillance teams, there's been no sign of McKenna anywhere around here all night."

Sandoval frowned, looking displeased at Ramsey's news and relaxed tone of voice. "That doesn't necessarily mean that he's not in the area," he snapped. "We've seen evidence of how easily he can blend into a crowd. All of you," he glared at both the Embassy guards and Liam's escort, as well as Liam, "make sure you stay alert."

Even taking into consideration Sandoval's warning, Liam let himself relax a bit. It wasn't necessarily guaranteed to stay that way, but for the moment it did appear that he was safe.

"Still, so far so good," he said to Ramsey. "That's promising, isn't it?"

His escort relaxed a bit as well. "Yes, sir," Lt. Cress said, nodding to Sgt. Ramsey.

Liam was pleased to see that there didn't seem to be any resentment on Ramsey's part over the fact that Sandoval had assigned his own people to guard Liam even while in the Embassy. He'd been worrying about that yesterday and this morning, when he hadn't been distracted by other things. The Embassy guards could quite easily have taken it as implying that Sandoval didn't believe that they were capable of dealing with McKenna. But if Ramsey didn't feel that way, then the other guards would follow his lead.

"Agent Sandoval and I will be in Da'an's office if you need us," Liam added to Ramsey, as Lt. Cress motioned for three of her people to start patrolling the grounds of the Embassy. She and Sergeant Chen stayed.

"Yes, sir," Ramsey said.

"Liam, I'll just grab some of the files from the office I've been using, and then I'll join you," Sandoval said, as they started toward Da'an's office.

"Okay," Liam said slowly. As Sandoval turned and headed over to the door of his office, Liam stared after him for a moment, confused. Why is he suddenly calling me 'Liam' constantly? he wondered, as he started walking again. As late as Saturday, he'd counted himself lucky if his father called him by name once in a day. So far this morning, Sandoval had already used his name three times!

Not that Liam objected - in fact, he rather liked the implication, that they were becoming friends - but it was... strange. And to make it stranger, Liam wasn't sure if Sandoval even realized that he was doing it.

As he started into Da'an's office, he caught sight of another flicker, brighter than the others - even brighter than Sunday's. Trying to focus on it, Liam didn't realize that he had stopped right inside the entrance.

The effort caused his head to begin pounding, making the minor headache he'd developed in the car even worse, and Liam was just about to give up when Sandoval appeared in front of him, a concerned expression on the Implant's face.

"Liam, is something wrong?" his father demanded.

"No..." Liam began, and then froze as the scene in front of him flickered out, to be replaced by a vision.

There was a bright flash of light, and Liam's desk exploded, engulfing the entire room - including the doorway where he and Sandoval were standing - in flames. The explosion was so powerful that it even destabilized the virtual glass windows that looked out on the city of Washington, and burning debris went flying everywhere.

"Liam?" Sandoval repeated, sounding worried. Liam blinked, pulling away from the vision and focusing on his father, and the concerned hand on his arm that was grounding him.

There wasn't time to do anything but react. Grabbing Sandoval's arm, Liam shoved him toward the door, yelling, "Run!"

"Liam, what--" Sandoval began, and then Liam felt everything slow down. Turning back, he stared in shock and terror as his desk exploded, just like in the vision. The ball of flame that had been his desk was expanding right towards where he and Sandoval were standing. There was no way that they would be able to get out of the way in time.

NO!

Liam wasn't certain when - or how - he'd raised his hands, but suddenly they were there, his palms - and his shaqarava - facing the explosion.

I can't - I WON'T - lose him, too!

Without thinking about what he was doing - there was no time - Liam focused his terror of losing Sandoval, his need to protect his father, his anger at McKenna, and all the confusion he'd felt over the past week, and pushed.

His shaqarava felt as though they were being pierced by a burning lance, but Liam ignored the pain, determined to make this work. He had to. There was no other way for he and Sandoval to survive.

The burning pain increased, and then, abruptly - almost as though a floodgate had been loosed - he felt energy begin draining from him and flowing out through his shaqarava. A brilliant white light burst from his palms and collided with the ever-expanding ball of flame less than a foot from his face. The force of the impact flung him backward, and Liam retained just enough awareness to realize that someone - Sandoval? - had caught him before he blacked out.

When he'd arrived at Da'an's office, Sandoval had begun to get concerned; Liam had been just standing there, staring into space, an abstracted look on his face. Sandoval had handed the files in his hands to Lt. Cress and walked in. He'd asked if anything was wrong, and Liam had started to say that there wasn't when his face had gone a ghostly white. Then he'd shoved Sandoval toward the door, shouting for him to run.

Sandoval stopped in the doorway and turned back to demand an explanation; and found himself staring in shock as Liam's desk exploded, sending flames and burning debris everywhere.

He was about to throw himself out the door when he realized that Liam was just standing there. The flames from the explosion would be reaching them at any moment. He reached out a hand, with the intention of grabbing Liam and pulling him away, and then froze as a brilliant white light burst from Liam's palms - His shaqarava?! - and hit the flames.

Sandoval could only stare in mingled awe and shock as the energy from Liam's shaqarava forced the flames back.

Then, abruptly, the energy vanished, and Liam staggered backwards, propelled by the force of the impact. That broke Sandoval's paralysis, and he took a step forward just in time to catch his son as Liam collapsed.

The sudden addition of Liam's weight sent him staggering back into the corridor, and then Lt. Cress and Sgt. Chen were there, taking Liam's unconscious form from him and getting both of them a bit farther down the corridor, away from the entrance to the destroyed office.

Sandoval sank down to sit on the floor next to where the Volunteers laid Liam down. He felt dazed; he'd known since he'd figured out the truth on Sunday that Liam probably had shaqarava, but this was the first proof of it that he'd seen.

The first proof that you recognized as such, came the thought, but before he could pursue it, his global beeped.

It took him a moment to remember that he'd put it in his pocket after speaking to Zo'or this morning, and then he pulled it out and opened it.

The look of relief on Captain Jardine's face would have been rather amusing under other circumstances. "Sir, you're all right!" he exclaimed. "The mothership's sensors just picked up an explosion in the Washington Embassy, and we were worried--"

"Yes, Captain, I'm fine," Sandoval interrupted his aide, grimacing as he stood up and waved away Lt. Cress' silent offer of support. "I believe there may have been a bomb planted in Major Kincaid's desk. I want a forensics team down here..." He broke off as he heard a soft moan, and glanced over in time to see Liam open his eyes and look dazedly up at the ceiling. "I'll call you back in a few minutes, Captain," he said quickly, and closed his global before focusing on his son.

"Are you all right?" he asked, leaning down to help Liam sit up. Then he frowned as he noticed a nasty gash on Liam's forehead, just above his left eyebrow, which was bleeding freely. He must have been hit by a piece of debris.

Liam blinked up at him, looking a bit confused. "Sandoval? What happened?" he mumbled.

"There was an explosion in Da'an's office - probably a bomb," Sandoval replied. Liam's eyes widened, and Sandoval could almost see the memory returning. "How do you feel?"

Liam hesitated. Sandoval glared at him, not wanting to hear a lie, and Liam sighed. "My head hurts," he admitted after a moment.

"Not surprising - you've got a nasty cut on your forehead," Sandoval told him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to Liam to press against the cut. "Here, this should help stop the bleeding." If this keeps up much longer - which I sincerely hope that it doesn't - I'm going to have to start buying handkerchiefs by the gross, he reflected, and then irritably dismissed the thought as irrelevant. Returning his attention to Liam, he added, "What about your arm and shoulder? How are they?"

Liam hesitated again, his expression becoming wary. "No worse than they were this morning," he answered carefully. "Why?"

This was not the time to discuss what he'd seen; not with Lt. Cress and Sgt. Chen standing close enough to hear anything that was said, and other Volunteers approaching - Sandoval could hear the sound of running footsteps from nearby. The elite were trustworthy, but there were still some things that they didn't need to know. Besides, he wanted his first real discussion with his son to take place in private. "The force of the explosion shoved you backward; I was afraid that it had done additional damage," he temporized. "You haven't been having that much luck with your shoulder lately."

"N-no, I'm fine," Liam managed, the wariness on his face giving way to a combination of confusion and fatigue.

"Good. Can you stand?" Sandoval added, as a group of Volunteers - the rest of Lt. Cress' squad, accompanied by some of the Embassy guards - came around the corner. Expressions of relief crossed their faces when they saw both Liam and Sandoval.

Liam nodded, and stood up slowly, carefully keeping his left hand on the wall to help support him.

Sandoval stepped away from Liam for a moment and peered around the entrance into Da'an's office.

The flames were dying down, and the room was an absolute mess. Liam's desk had been completely destroyed by the explosion; Da'an's chair looked to have been severely damaged, as did the ID portal, and the virtual glass windows were... gone.

"The media's going to have a field day with this one, sir," Corporal Payton, one of Lt. Cress' people, said. "I think most of downtown Washington saw it. I was outside, on the other side of the Embassy, and I couldn't have missed it if I'd been blind."

That was not good news.

On the other hand... Sandoval's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as his gaze went to Liam.

Yesterday, Jardine had pointed out that McKenna had failed in every attempt he'd made on Liam's life. The Captain had suggested that if they were lucky, those unusual failures - and they were unusual for McKenna - could end up making him careless.

Well, so far Sandoval hadn't seen any sign of carelessness... but he had the definite feeling that McKenna was rattled. Under ordinary circumstances, the assassin would have never resorted to using a bomb. It was too indiscriminate.

And now Liam had survived another attempt... the fifth one in a week. Bringing the media in - publicizing McKenna's failures - might just be the answer. It would definitely make him angry - and angry people, as Sandoval knew well, made mistakes.

He'd have to check the strategy with Zo'or, of course... but he suspected that the Taelon would agree to it.

First, though... Walking back to Liam, Sandoval motioned for Lt. Cress and Sgt. Ramsey, who had come with the other Volunteers, to join them. "Lieutenant, Sergeant," he ordered, "take Major Kincaid to my office. Major," he continued, turning to Liam, "you're to stay there until I come and get you. Then we'll be going up to the mothership - and you will be staying there until McKenna is caught."

He half-expected Liam to argue, and was a bit surprised when his son simply nodded and followed Sgt. Ramsey without protest.

Turning back to the rest of the Volunteers, he gestured to the entrance to Da'an's office. "Corporal Payton, I want you to stand guard here until the forensics team gets here."

"Yes, sir," the Volunteer replied, saluting.

"Sergeant Chen," Sandoval continued, "retrieve all of the surveillance records, and all Embassy security records from the past twenty-four hours. I want to see them as soon as you've got them."

"Yes, sir," Chen said, echoing the corporal, and started down the corridor toward the Embassy's main security station.

Then Sandoval turned to the others. "I want this Embassy searched from top to bottom," he ordered. "I want to know exactly how whoever planted this bomb - presumably McKenna - got in here; and if there were any more explosives planted, I want them found."

The Volunteers saluted, and then immediately hurried to carry out their assignments.

Opening his global, Sandoval contacted Captain Jardine.

"Sir, Zo'or is demanding a status report," Jardine said immediately.

"Inform him that both Major Kincaid and I are safe and relatively unharmed," Sandoval instructed. "Have you got the forensics team ready?"

"Of course, sir," Jardine replied. "And yes; they're already on the way to the Embassy."

"Good," Sandoval continued. "After you report to Zo'or, find Corporal Roberts and send him down to pick us up - I want the Major on the mothership."

Jardine nodded.

"And come down with him; I want you to supervise the forensics examination."

"Yes, sir," Jardine replied calmly.

Sandoval nodded in satisfaction and closed the connection. Then, taking another deep breath, he started toward his office - and Liam.

Liam sat down in the chair facing the desk and closed his eyes, relieved that both Cress and Ramsey had agreed to stay outside. Right now, he needed to be alone.

He felt... well, he wasn't entirely certain how he felt. Physically, his head was hurting a bit, and his shoulder and arm were throbbing; but it wasn't the physical that concerned him at the moment.

Opening his eyes again, he looked down at his hands, carefully shifting his arm in the sling so that his right palm faced upwards.

His gloves - the gift from Lili - had been destroyed by the blast from his shaqarava; there might be a few bits of fabric left on the floor of Da'an's office, if any had survived the flames, but the gloves themselves were gone.

So was the dark red colour of his shaqarava. It looked as though Da'an had been right about activating them being the answer to whatever the problem had been; they had stopped itching, and were back to the usual reddish-tinged marks that indicated quiescent shaqarava.

And that was the new problem.

He wasn't upset about having saved his father's life; if given the choice, he'd have done it again in a heartbeat. He'd done it before, when Professor Creighton had dropped that little surprise on them...

But the question was, how much had Sandoval seen?

Nothing Sandoval had said had suggested that he'd seen Liam's shaqarava - at least, not directly - but Liam didn't know how his father could have missed what had happened. That blast had been enormous!

What did Da'an say? Something about my shaqarava containing more energy than he had realized was possible?

If so, that might explain the force of the blast, as well as the strange sensation Liam had experienced, of energy draining out of him... which might, in turn, explain why he was suddenly feeling so tired.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing towards the door, and was relieved to see that it was closed. If what he was about to do did produce any results, he didn't want anyone to see.

Taking a deep breath, Liam focused his attention on his shaqarava, willing them to activate.

He felt only the faintest touch of surprise when they immediately began to glow. Admittedly, the glow wasn't very strong - but then, he was tired, after all.

Liam just sat there and studied his glowing shaqarava for a moment or two, wondering what this would mean for him. Then, willing them to stop, he watched as the glow disappeared.

Whatever had happened - and he still wasn't sure what that was - it appeared that he could now consciously control his shaqarava, although he couldn't be absolutely certain of that without doing more tests. Not exactly something he wanted to do right now.

Leaning back in the chair, Liam closed his eyes again. What he really wanted to do at the moment was to just go to sleep, but he knew that wouldn't be a good idea. Especially if Sandoval had seen the shaqarava blast. Although Liam had no idea why he'd pretend otherwise if he had...

"Liam!"

Liam jerked in surprise, opening his eyes to meet Sandoval's concerned gaze. Had he fallen asleep?

"Corporal Roberts is here," Sandoval said.

Right. To take them up to the mothership.

Liam started to stand up, and then fell back as dizziness assailed him. Maybe testing his shaqarava hadn't been that wise a thing to do after all...

Before he could say anything, Sandoval gripped his left arm and helped him up. "Are you all right?"

Liam blinked, trying to focus. "Yeah... just drained," he replied before he thought about what he was saying. Then, as his mind caught up with him, he hoped that his father would take that to mean that it was the commotion this morning that had drained him, as opposed to what he'd done about it.

Sandoval nodded slowly. "When we get up to the mothership, we'll get something to eat - that should help. And Liam," he added, letting go of Liam's arm and heading for the door, "after we've dealt with McKenna, we need to talk."

Liam stared after his father for a moment, apprehension running through him. What did he want to discuss?

Did he see?

Swallowing nervously, he took a deep breath and followed Sandoval out. At the moment, he really had no choice except to wait and see what happened.

Doors scowled at the image that formed on the screen. Having to piggyback their signal onto a myriad of others in order to avoid detection tended to result in a great deal of signal interference. As a result, the picture was staticky and the audio wasn't the best.

"Dr. Greenbaum," he said evenly.

Dr. Sylvia Greenbaum looked surprised. "Mr. Doors! What can I do for you?"

"I have one very simple question that I want answered," he replied coolly. "Why was Ms. Palmer not shown the emergency portal during her tour of the facility?"

Dr. Greenbaum blinked - or, at least, that was the impression Doors got. He disliked not being able to clearly see the faces of the people he was speaking to. "Emergency portal?" she repeated. "What emergency portal?"

Doors' expression darkened. "The emergency portal in your facility," he said, his tone going cold. "The one installed almost three years ago, at my direct orders. The outgoing only portal."

Dr. Greenbaum shook her head. "There was never a portal here, sir," she replied, looking confused. "Certainly not as long as I've been here."

Jonathan Doors tended to be a very suspicious man - he'd needed to be to survive, first in the cutthroat field of international business, and then as the leader of the Liberation. However, he found himself believing that Dr. Greenbaum was telling the truth - as she knew it, at least.

"You're certain," he said, frowning.

"Yes, Mr. Doors. We've never received a portal, emergency or otherwise," Dr. Greenbaum replied somberly.

"I'll look into this; there is supposed to be an emergency portal at each facility. I'll have one sent up by the next courier, along with the regulations governing its use," Doors declared.

"We'll be waiting, sir," Dr. Greenbaum replied.

Doors nodded to her, and then cut the signal.

Standing up, he walked into the outer office, where his assistant was working on the presentation for the latest Taelon co-venture.

"Jerry, please inform Ms. Palmer that I need to see her as soon as she's available," he said.

"Yes, sir," Jerry replied, and Doors returned to his inner office.

This was not good. At all.

Augur was just about to start eating breakfast when Holo-Lorna appeared. "Augur, there's something you should see," the hologram said.

Augur sighed. First Liam, now Holo-Lorna... this interrupting his meals bit was beginning to get on his nerves. "What is it?"

The screen came on, showing what looked to be a news report.

"...explosion at the Taelon Washington Embassy," the reporter standing in front of the camera was saying. Augur could see the Embassy in the background, and what looked like... smoke?... billowing out of it. "This is the fourth attack on Taelons and Taelon personnel in the past week."

The view changed to the front of the Embassy, where a shuttle was parked on the lawn, and Augur watched as Liam and Sandoval, surrounded by a group of Volunteers, exited the Embassy and hurried to the shuttle.

The reporter reappeared on the screen. "Neither Agent Sandoval, Zo'or's attaché, nor Major Kincaid, Da'an's Protector, both of whom were in the Embassy at the time of the explosion, had any comments for the press.

"To re-cap; over the past week, there have been four attacks on Taelons or Taelon personnel. Last Wednesday, Synod Leader Zo'or was targeted at the dedication of a new children's hospital in Seattle. Major Kincaid was injured saving him. On Thursday, Zo'or was attacked again at the Taelon Egyptian Embassy, after a meeting with Si'al, the Egyptian Companion, and the African Premier. Sunday, Major Kincaid was attacked at a Native American festival in Arizona. And just this morning, there was an explosion in the Taelon Washington Embassy."

"Turn it off," Augur ordered. "And call Liam."

Holo-Lorna nodded, and the screen shut off. A moment later, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Augur, but Major Kincaid isn't accepting any calls at the moment."

Augur frowned. "Then call Dr. Park."

Dr. Park appeared on the screen almost immediately. "Augur," she greeted him.

"Have you seen the news?" Augur demanded.

Dr. Park nodded. "Yes," she replied. "No one's called me, though, so I suspect that Liam is all right."

"Well, they did have some footage of him getting into a shuttle with Sandoval and a group of Volunteers," Augur said, "so you're probably right. But I've tried calling him, and I can't reach him. All I get is the message that he's not accepting any calls at the moment."

"If he was getting into a shuttle, that means he's most likely up on the mothership at the moment," Dr. Park pointed out. "And considering the way Sandoval's been protecting him, I wouldn't be surprised if he's got Volunteers with him constantly right now. I'm sure he'll call when he has the chance."

Augur sighed. "I'm just worried," he admitted.

"So am I, Augur, so am I," Dr. Park responded. "But Liam is able to look after himself - and as much as I dislike Sandoval, the man's very good at his job, and very determined to keep Liam safe. This assassin's failed five times so far; I doubt that he'll get a sixth chance."

Augur glanced away, not wanting Dr. Park to see his expression. Yes, he was worried about McKenna... after all, the man was a professional assassin, and seemed to be very determined to kill Liam. But that wasn't his greatest concern.

He'd done some digging on Andrew Patterson last night, and had discovered that apparently Patterson and Sandoval had been good friends ever since they'd both joined the FBI. Which meant that there could be very little doubt that whatever Patterson had found out about both Liam and Dark Knight had been relayed directly to Sandoval. And with what Liam had been doing, giving Sandoval all those hints to the truth... Well, it wouldn't take a genius to put two and two together and eventually get four.

And what did Dr. Park mean about Sandoval being determined to keep Liam safe?

"Listen, Augur, I have to go... I've got patients I need to see to," Dr. Park said, interrupting his contemplations. "If Liam calls me, I'll let him know that you want to talk to him, okay?"

Augur nodded. "Thanks," he replied.

The screen went blank, and Augur leaned back in his chair and started eating his breakfast. He wasn't paying any attention to the taste, however; most of his attention was focused on how to handle the situation he found himself in now.

"Lorna," he said after a moment's thought, "check that monitor we have on Patterson and see what he's been up to over the past day or so. And leave a message on Liam's global that I need to talk to him as soon as possible."

"Certainly, Augur," Holo-Lorna replied, and got to work.

Zo'or dismissed the datastream and turned around as Agent Sandoval and Major Kincaid stepped onto the bridge, followed by two Volunteers who immediately took up a protective stance just behind Kincaid.

Kincaid looked much worse than he had the last time Zo'or had seen the human, three days ago, when he and Agent Sandoval had been explaining their plan to entrap this assassin. There was a cut on his forehead, and he appeared to be tired and in a certain amount of pain.

Da'an and Agent Sandoval had obviously both been quite correct to insist upon a delay in the implementation of Kincaid's promotion to Flight Commander.

"Sit down, Major," he instructed, gesturing to an unoccupied console.

The human obediently sat, an expression of gratitude momentarily crossing his face.

"Agent Sandoval, your report," Zo'or ordered, as Da'an walked over to stand next to Kincaid.

"I have a team of forensics specialists going over the site of the explosion, supervised by Captain Jardine," the Implant said. "As yet, the only thing they have determined is that the explosion was definitely caused by a device planted in Major Kincaid's desk. The device is a very powerful one; the explosion destroyed most of the room, as well as destabilizing the virtual glass. Had the Major and I been any farther in, we would have undoubtedly been killed instantly."

Out of the corner of his eye, Zo'or saw Kincaid shiver, and he turned slightly to watch as Da'an placed one hand on the human's uninjured shoulder and spoke quietly to him. Kincaid nodded in response.

"Zo'or," Agent Sandoval said, and Zo'or redirected his attention to the Implant.

"Is there any further information on how the assassin was able to accomplish this, Agent Sandoval?" he demanded. "Or any information concerning his current location?"

The Implant shook his head. "Not right now, no, Zo'or. I have my people going over the records from both the surveillance teams and the Embassy security files, but there is no guarantee that we will be able to discover anything about McKenna's present whereabouts from them.

"Also," Agent Sandoval added, his eyes flicking over to Kincaid for a moment, "I've taken the precaution of making arrangements for Major Kincaid to remain on board the mothership until McKenna has been captured."

Zo'or nodded. "Very well." He studied the Implant for a moment. "There is one other thing, Agent Sandoval," he added. Calling up the datastream again, he ordered it to replay the broadcast he had been watching just before the humans had entered.

A reporter appeared. "To re-cap; over the past week, there have been four attacks on Taelons or Taelon personnel. Last Wednesday, Synod Leader Zo'or was targeted at the dedication of a new children's hospital in Seattle. Major Kincaid was injured saving him. On Thursday, Zo'or was attacked again at the Taelon Egyptian Embassy, after a meeting with Si'al, the Egyptian Companion, and the African Premier. Sunday, Major Kincaid was attacked at a Native American festival in Arizona. And just this morning, there was an explosion in the Taelon Washington Embassy."

Zo'or dismissed the datastream again. "How did the media discover what occurred in Africa, Agent Sandoval?" he demanded. "Two days ago, they were unaware of it."

Agent Sandoval scowled. "I don't know, Zo'or... but I will find out. It is quite possible that there were witnesses to the attack in Africa."

Zo'or nodded again. "Concentrate on your search for McKenna," he ordered. "He is the first priority. You will co-ordinate the search from the Washington Embassy."

The Implant blinked, and glanced back at Major Kincaid for a moment before returning his attention to Zo'or. "Of course, Zo'or," he replied obediently.

Zo'or felt satisfied. Kincaid would be safe enough here, and it would provide him with the opportunity to discuss certain matters with the Major without Agent Sandoval present. "Once you have McKenna, you will look into this breach of security. That will be all, Agent Sandoval," he added calmly.

The Implant nodded, and Zo'or turned his chair away in dismissal.

Da'an watched as Agent Sandoval approached them. He was concerned; Liam had shown him his shaqarava, which had returned to their normal state, and quietly whispered an explanation of what had happened. The question was, what - if anything - had Agent Sandoval seen? And if he had seen, what did he intend to do about it?

Stopping next to them, Sandoval gave Da'an a tight nod and then directed his attention to Liam. "Stop by the commissary and get something to eat, and then there's some paperwork in my office that you can work on," he said.

"All right. I am a bit hungry," Liam admitted quietly, not arguing. He appeared to be tired - which, considering the amount of energy he must have channeled through his shaqarava, was not surprising.

Turning to the Volunteers that had accompanied Liam onto the bridge, Sandoval added, "Lieutenant Hartland will relieve you at one o'clock."

That seemed to catch Liam's attention. "If I'm on the mothership--" he began.

"Humour me, Liam," Sandoval said firmly.

'Liam'? Da'an thought, puzzled. It was most unlike Agent Sandoval to be so informal.

"We still don't know how McKenna found out about Zo'or's schedule change Thursday morning," Sandoval continued.

Liam nodded slowly. "All right," he replied after a moment.

"I'll let you know as soon as we have something," Sandoval added, before leaving the bridge.

Liam leaned back in the seat and sighed, closing his eyes. "I wish this was over," he murmured.

"As do I," Da'an replied, his voice equally quiet. He paused, and then added, "You mentioned that you were hungry."

"Right." Liam opened his eyes and carefully stood up. Glancing around the bridge for a moment, he sighed again. "And I guess I'll be in Sandoval's office when I finish eating."

"Very well," Da'an replied.

He watched his Protector walk out, followed by the Volunteers, and then walked over to Zo'or's command chair.

"You were right, Da'an," Zo'or said coolly, turning the chair around to look at him. "Major Kincaid does indeed require rest before taking up his new responsibilities."

"I am glad that we agree on this," Da'an replied. He hesitated a moment, not certain he wished to broach this next topic with Zo'or, but the memory of Agent Sandoval's slightly haggard expression decided him. "What of Agent Sandoval? He did not have the chance to have the vacation we arranged for him. I believe he may require a rest almost as much as Major Kincaid."

Zo'or met his eyes calmly. "I will take that under consideration, Da'an - once this human assassin has been found and dealt with," he replied, and then turned away.

Da'an kept his eyes on Zo'or for another moment or two, and then left the bridge to return to his own duties.

Sandoval scowled darkly at the screen.

He, Captain Jardine, Sergeant Chen and Sergeant Ramsey were standing in the Embassy's main security station. As soon as he'd reached the Embassy, Jardine had called him in here with the news that they had discovered how - and when - McKenna had gotten in.

Somehow, the assassin had managed to obtain a copy of the plans that showed the connection between the underground tunnels and the Embassy, and had entered via that route at 2a.m. this morning.

They still weren't certain how McKenna had managed to evade all the security cameras save the one at the entrance from the tunnels, not to mention the roaming patrols, but right now Sandoval didn't care about that. They could always question McKenna about the methods he'd employed once he'd been caught.

The other thing that had been discovered while he'd been on the mothership was the reason that the bomb had not been discovered in the two randomly timed security sweeps that had taken place between 2:00 and 7:30, when he and Liam had arrived. McKenna had apparently wrapped the bomb in a swathe of vaile; a few burnt scraps had been recovered from the ruins of Da'an's office by the forensics team. And why no one had thought to adapt the Embassy's internal security sensors to detect the vaile...

Turning away from the screen, Sandoval looked at Jardine. "Sometime between late Sunday morning and two a.m., McKenna had to get here from Phoenix. I want you to check all records - Portal Authority, airlines, busses - for any departures during that period, and track them all. Take as many teams as you need.

"In addition, McKenna has to have gotten the components for the bomb somewhere, and it is more than likely that that was also done within the past two days. This had to be a spur of the moment plan; bombs aren't his style at all. As soon as the forensics team determines what form of explosive and detonator were used, I want at least two or three teams tracking down where he might have obtained them. Try military and CIA-authorized sources first."

He paused, and met Jardine's eyes. "You are authorized to do whatever is required to find McKenna and bring him in - preferably alive, but that is not a requirement. Whatever is necessary, Captain. I want this bastard."

Jardine nodded solemnly. "We all do, sir," he said. His voice was calm, but there was a glint of steely determination in his eyes.

"Good," Sandoval declared. "I'll be in my office here if you need me. I have a few things to follow up on."

Jardine nodded again, and Sandoval strode out.

He would much rather be on the mothership with Liam - talking to Liam; but he couldn't exactly have disobeyed Zo'or's order, in spite of the fact that he could do just as much, if not more, on the mothership rather than in the Embassy.

Entering the office, Sandoval sat down at his desk with a sigh and opened his global. Time to start calling in some favours.

Liam shifted uncomfortably in Sandoval's chair and glared at the mountain of paperwork on the desk in front of him. Had his father brought up everything from the Embassy as well as what was already here?

He was feeling somewhat better now, since he'd eaten a huge meal in the commissary. Still tired, yes, but not nearly as drained as he'd felt earlier. The food had definitely helped.

Liam had just lifted the first file from the stack - something about security arrangements for another interview Zo'or was giving; hadn't he had a bad enough experience at the last one? - when the door opened and Lt. Cress poked her head in. "Major, Zo'or wants to see you on the bridge," the Volunteer said.

Remembering the events of this morning, Liam felt a frisson of fear go through him. Had Zo'or found out somehow? Had Sandoval told him? "Did he say why?" Liam asked out loud, doing his best to imitate his father's impassive expression.

"No, sir," Lt. Cress replied, shaking her head. "But he does want to see you immediately."

"Of course he wants to see me 'immediately'," Liam muttered under his breath. "What else is new?" He pushed the chair away from the desk and stood up awkwardly. His shoulder was throbbing again, and unfortunately, Sandoval still had his painkillers. This was not going to be a fun afternoon - even if Zo'or's reason for seeing him was completely unrelated to what had happened this morning.

It only took a few minutes to reach the bridge from Sandoval's office, which was probably a very good thing, since Liam was growing more and more apprehensive by the moment. What could Zo'or want him for?

As he stepped onto the bridge, Zo'or turned his command chair around to face him.

"Major Kincaid," Zo'or greeted him. "There are some matters we need to discuss."

So, is this good or bad? Liam wondered. He couldn't tell anything from Zo'or's body language. "About what?" he asked out loud, hoping desperately that Zo'or would not say 'shaqarava'.

Zo'or stood up. "Your advancement to the position of Flight Commander," he replied.

Liam breathed a silent sigh of relief as he followed Zo'or over to the virtual glass windows that looked out towards Earth. So the Synod Leader didn't know. Of course, that still left open the question of whether or not Sandoval knew...

"I realize that you will be on medical leave for the next two weeks, Major, but there are certain things I wish you to be aware of before you take up the duties of your new position," Zo'or continued.

Liam glanced over his shoulder to see that Lt. Cress and Corporal Payton were standing at the entrance to the bridge, and the few Volunteers on duty were all off to one side. It appeared that Zo'or, for whatever reason, wished to speak to him privately. Which was... rather unusual.

He returned his attention to Zo'or.

"First," Zo'or said, turning to face him, "you must understand that in matters concerning your position as Flight Commander, you will not be reporting to Agent Sandoval; you will be reporting directly to me."

Oh, wonderful, was Liam's first thought. Reporting to Sandoval could be bad enough, but reporting directly to Zo'or... about anything...

Then something else occurred to him. "But I thought that Agent Sandoval was in charge of all Volunteers," he said.

"The pilots will be removed from Agent Sandoval's command," Zo'or replied calmly. "He has neither the training nor the knowledge to use them most effectively; you do."

Liam frowned slightly as he thought about that. It really didn't make that much sense for him to be reporting to Zo'or about this one thing, when he reported to Sandoval about everything else...

Then, abruptly, he realized what was going on. The only explanation he could come up with for Zo'or to do something like this would be to diminish Sandoval's power base. Liam had never bothered to hide the fact that he didn't care for Zo'or, and he was fully aware that the feeling was mutual. So the only reason Zo'or would have Liam report directly to him would be to eliminate Sandoval as the middleman. Which also served to explain why Zo'or had sent Sandoval back down to the Embassy to supervise the search for McKenna when he probably could have been more effective up here.

What surprised Liam the most about this wasn't the suggestion of mistrust between Zo'or and Sandoval - he'd been fully aware of the fact that Zo'or hadn't really trusted his father for some time, and this was simply more proof of that fact. No, the surprise was the idea that Zo'or felt that he was trustworthy enough for this! Since when had Zo'or trusted him at all?

Suddenly realizing that Zo'or was looking at him, obviously waiting for a response, Liam nodded slowly. "I understand," he said, letting his expression convey just how much he understood.

Zo'or looked satisfied. "Excellent, Major," he declared. He looked thoughtfully out at the Earth for a moment, and then turned back to Liam. "The second item of concern is the matter of the pilot training program. I believe that Agent Sandoval has informed you of the failure rate?"

"Yes, he has," Liam answered. "I've already begun looking into it."

Zo'or nodded. "Currently, between three and five percent of the Volunteers are pilots, Major. That number is much too low. If Taelons and humans are to stand any chance of defeating the Jaridians, we must have more pilots. Once you have discovered the cause of the failure rate and corrected it, your next task will be to begin a... 'recruitment campaign', I believe, is the human term. We require a minimum of ten percent of all Volunteers to be pilots; preferably close to twenty percent."

Liam could only stare at Zo'or in shock. That was... well, suffice it to say that Renee would probably be doing backflips in delight at the authority this would give him - and at the opportunity to insert some of the Resistance's operatives into the Volunteers. Ten to twenty percent of all Volunteers?! "I... see," he managed after a moment.

Once again, Zo'or appeared satisfied. "We will discuss this in greater detail after you have taken up your duties, Major," he said, turning away from the windows and walking back toward his chair. "That will be all."

"Of course, Zo'or," Liam answered automatically, falling back on his father's standard response. He walked slowly off the bridge, for once barely noticing as his Volunteer bodyguard fell into step behind him. His mind was spinning; he would have never in a million years suspected that anything like this was possible. Zo'or had never liked him, never trusted him before... so why now?

Right now, occupying himself with paperwork sounded like a very good idea. Too much had happened, too fast. Doing the paperwork would distract him - for a few hours, at least. That was, Liam decided after a moment's thought, exactly what he needed.

"And who knows?" he mumbled under his breath. "I might even manage to make a dent in Sandoval's files..."

Just as Sandoval closed his global after a long but ultimately fruitless discussion with the CIA's current Deputy Director of Operations, the door opened and one of the members of the forensics team poked her head in. "Sir?" she queried.

"What is it, Volunteer?" Sandoval demanded, putting his global down on his desk. She was one of the regular Volunteers, not the elite.

"We've finished the analysis of the explosion site, sir," the Volunteer said.

"Excellent. What was the explosive?"

The Volunteer hesitated for a moment. "According to the results of the tests we've run, sir... it was ordinary Semtex, with a remotely controlled detonator made using Taelon technology," she told him.

"Good," Sandoval declared, feeling pleased. Something like that shouldn't be too hard to track down. "Have you informed Captain Jardine yet?"

"Err... no, sir," the Volunteer replied.

Sandoval's expression darkened. "Why not?" he demanded coldly.

"Sir... the force of the blast was much greater than can be explained by the amount of Semtex that was used," she said. "And we haven't found anything else that could account for the additional force."

Sandoval felt himself tense, but managed to keep the sudden worry from his expression. Of course... Liam's shaqarava!

The blast of energy Liam had directed at the explosion had been powerful enough to deflect the force of the explosion completely, and drain him to the point of unconsciousness. Of course it had been powerful enough to add to the damage caused by the explosion!

But he could hardly tell anyone that. Time to find another explanation, Ron... and quickly!

"You said the detonator was made with Taelon technology?" he questioned after a moment.

"Yes, sir. Energy readings from the site of the explosion itself are consistent with Taelon technology."

"Perhaps the combination of the two is responsible for the increased force of the explosion," he suggested, forcing himself to keep his voice casual.

The expression on the Volunteer's face told Sandoval that she hadn't considered that explanation, and also that she thought it was plausible.

Abruptly, he remembered what else she had said. "You mentioned that the detonator was remote-controlled. Do you know how distant the control had to be?"

"Reasonably close, sir. The best estimate is within two blocks."

So McKenna had been in the area! Sandoval fought back a snarl of rage at the thought that the man who had tried to kill his son had been so close, and none of the surveillance teams had had the slightest clue!

"Why didn't you inform Captain Jardine of this immediately?" he demanded, coldly furious. He saw the Volunteer blanch as he glared at her. "Tell him - now!"

"Yes, sir!" she replied, and hurried out, pulling out her global as she did so.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Sandoval closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, taking deep breaths in an effort to regain control of his emotions. He could feel his skrill start to respond to his anger, and forced himself to continue his breathing. He couldn't afford to lose control, not now.

It took over a minute, but finally Sandoval gained enough control to push the rage away for the moment. He was tired, and so much had happened - so much had changed for him - over the past several days... it was no wonder that he was so close to losing control.

And to think that only a week ago he'd been starting to enjoy his first vacation in five years...

Letting out his breath in a sigh, Sandoval opened his eyes and sat back up. It was too late to concern himself over McKenna's presence this morning - although he intended to have a few rather pointed words with the surveillance teams once this was over - what they needed to do was find out where he was right now.

Picking his global back up from where he'd placed it, Sandoval was just about to open it to call General Prescott when it beeped.

Andrew leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head, grinning as he studied the computer screen in front of him.

Got you, you bastard! he thought in satisfaction.

He'd spent all night working on tracking McKenna from Arizona, without much luck. The man was definitely one of the best from Covert Operations; Andrew had only managed to trace him from a portal in Phoenix to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan by the time the eight o'clock news came on.

It was the lead story - the bombing at the Washington Taelon Embassy - that had given him the trace he needed.

According to McKenna's psychological profile, which had been in the records Ron had sent him, the assassin preferred the 'up-close-and-personal' method, using guns or knives - or crossbows, evidently - to deal with his targets. He didn't like using weapons of mass-destruction - like bombs - regarding them as too likely to result in civilian casualties.

The fact that McKenna had apparently used a bomb at the Embassy told Andrew that the man was obviously losing it, becoming obsessed with killing Major Kincaid - or whatever his real name was - by whatever means necessary. That meant that McKenna would most likely be acting irrationally.

Combining that with his psych profile and skill at disguise, Andrew had come to the conclusion that McKenna would most likely have been in the area of the Embassy at the time of the explosion, if only to make sure that it went off as planned. So, acting on a hunch, he'd checked nearby hotels.

His grin widened as he picked up his global and called Ron. McKenna had definitely messed up this time.

"Andrew?" Ron exclaimed, sounding surprised.

"I've found McKenna for you, Ron," Andrew said, grinning triumphantly.

Ron blinked in surprise. "You have?"

Andrew nodded. "He's holed up in the Hotel Grande, about ten blocks away from the Embassy," he told his friend. "He's registered under the name Michael Gray - it's one of his favourite aliases - in room 309. I checked it out, and apparently he's still there. And there are no portals within seven blocks of the hotel; you and the elite should have no problem apprehending him."

Ron smiled - the hard-edged, icy smile of a predator whose prey is within his grasp. "I owe you one, Andrew. Thanks," he added, before closing the connection.

Andrew tapped the keyboard, removing the registry of the Hotel Grande from his screen. He had no doubt that Ron would get McKenna; even if the assassin tried to run, he wouldn't be able to make it to any of the portals before Ron and the Volunteers captured him. It would be no contest.

So, now that the McKenna situation was taken care of, he could get back to what was really puzzling him - the matter of Major Kincaid, and Ron's odd behaviour during their conversation yesterday.

Once Ron had explained the situation with McKenna to him, he hadn't been all that surprised that his friend wanted him to concentrate on finding the assassin, rather than looking into 'Major Kincaid's' background. And what Ron had said about receiving additional information... well, Ron had more sources than he knew of.

No, what had really puzzled him had been the fact that Ron had referred to the Major as 'Liam' several times during their conversation. That wasn't like Ron; he wasn't that informal towards someone unless he knew them very well. Andrew could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times that Ron had decided to use a colleague's first name in the ten years since they'd joined the FBI. It wasn't like Ron at all. Something was up.

He'd better tell me what's going on, and soon, Andrew decided after a moment. If he doesn't, I'm just going to have to continue looking... I am not going to let Ron endanger himself, not again.

Lt. Col. McKenna opened his eyes and stretched, feeling satisfied. It was - he glanced at his watch - just after three-thirty; he'd slept for over five hours. It had been a pleasant - and much-needed - nap.

Even more pleasant was the thought that Kincaid, the traitor, was finally dead. No one could have survived the blast at the Taelon Embassy; especially not if they had actually been in the room at the time of the explosion, which - according to the tiny camera he'd had wired to the bomb - Kincaid had been.

Standing up, he wandered over to the television set and turned it on, switching to the local news channel. By now they should be running the reports of Kincaid's death.

"And in our lead story today," the attractive anchorwoman was saying, as he turned up the volume and sat down in a comfortable chair facing the television, "there was an explosion at the North American Taelon Embassy, in what appears to be the latest in a series of attacks against both Taelons and Taelon personnel. Last Wednesday, Synod Leader Zo'or was the subject of an assassination attempt in which Major Liam Kincaid, Companion-Protector to Da'an, was injured. Thursday, Zo'or's shuttle was attacked in Egypt following a conference with the African premier and Si'al, the Egyptian Companion. On Sunday, there was an assassination attempt on Major Kincaid. And now, this latest outrage.

"For more details, we go to Luke Ferris, live at the Taelon Embassy."

The view switched to a man of average height, with brown hair and dark eyes, standing in front of the main entrance to the Embassy. Over to one side, McKenna could see a hole in the building where the explosion had evidently breached the wall of Da'an's office.

"Thank you, Natasha," the reporter said. "At seven-thirty this morning, everyone in downtown Washington DC was treated to the sight of a huge ball of flames coming out of the Taelon Embassy. The explosion and the flames were quickly contained, but the damage remains." The reporter gestured with one hand toward the hole in the Embassy's outer wall.

"According to information we have received, the bomb was planted somewhere in Da'an's office. Luckily, no one was actually in the office at the time of the explosion, and injuries were limited to cuts and minor burns from assorted flying debris--"

McKenna snarled as he switched the television off with a vicious jab at the remote.

How the hell could Kincaid have escaped? It should have been impossible! The Major been in the room when he had set off the explosion!

Standing up, McKenna was just starting to reach for his jacket when the door of his room burst open and two Volunteers, wearing body armour and carrying heavy weapons, entered.

"Freeze!" one of them barked.

McKenna did his best to look innocent. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked, letting a touch of nervousness enter his voice as he started to back up toward the window. "What are you doing?"

"Don't move!"

McKenna took another step back, and then froze as he felt a fist touch the back of his neck.

"I'd listen to him if I were you, McKenna," said FBI Agent Ronald Sandoval's voice from behind him, his tone icy. "They've got itchy trigger fingers... and my orders don't say that I have to bring you in alive."

McKenna obediently stayed still as cuffs were put around his wrists and he was searched for weapons. There had been something in Sandoval's voice that told him that the FBI agent would be only too pleased to present a corpse to his Taelon masters.

Once they'd removed both his guns and his boot knife, Sandoval stepped away from him. "Take him to the shuttle," the agent ordered, his eyes cold as he met McKenna's gaze. "I think it's time that the colonel and I had a little... talk."

"Liam... Liam!" a voice called loudly.

Liam opened his eyes slowly and blinked dazedly at the pile of files in front of his nose. His neck felt stiff, and his shoulder was throbbing... And why is my head lying on the desk?

"Liam, you must wake up!" the voice repeated, and this time Liam was able to recognize it - it was Da'an. The Taelon sounded concerned.

"Da'an?" he mumbled, blinking again. He sat up slowly, trying to remember what might have happened, but had no luck. The last thing he could recall was starting to work on a report concerning the New Zealand Volunteer training camp...

As he straightened up, the pain in his shoulder abruptly changed from a dull throbbing to blazing agony, and for a minute he could do nothing except wait for the wave of agony to subside.

When he once again became aware of his surroundings, Da'an was crouched down next to his chair, his expression openly worried. "Liam, what is wrong?" the Taelon asked.

"My shoulder..." Liam gasped out. The agony was starting to lessen, but it was still quite painful.

"I believe that Agent Sandoval gave your painkillers to one of the Volunteers; I will be right back," Da'an said, and hurried away. It seemed like only a moment before he returned, holding the bottle of painkillers in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "How many do you need?" he asked, putting the glass down on the desk.

It was hard to concentrate, the pain occupying his thoughts almost to the exclusion of all else. "Four," he managed to reply after a minute. That was how many Dr. Park had told him to take after he'd landed on the shuttle floor Thursday morning, and although the pain was worse than that had been, he didn't want to take too many. Actually, the pain was as bad as it had been Sunday night, when he'd woken up from the dream of Ha'gel, but there wasn't any anesthetic here, so the painkillers would have to do.

"Here," Da'an said, holding out his hand. Liam took the pills and then sipped at the water to help him swallow, each movement slow and careful.

Putting the water back down, he turned back to Da'an. The painkillers wouldn't take effect for a little while; better to have something else to distract him from the pain until they did. "What happened?" he asked.

Da'an studied him thoughtfully. "You fell asleep," he replied after a moment. "Three hours ago. When Lieutenant Hartland last checked on you, he said that you looked uncomfortable, but he could not wake you."

I-- what? "I fell asleep?" Liam repeated slowly. "How did that happen?" Although, come to think of it... I was starting to feel tired again...

Da'an sighed. "Liam, if you used even a fraction of the energy I sensed from you yesterday to defend yourself and Agent Sandoval, I am surprised that you remained awake for as long as you did."

"I was feeling better after I had something to eat," Liam protested.

"You require more than a meal to recover from that sort of expenditure of energy," Da'an pointed out. "I will contact Corporal Roberts; since Agent Sandoval has captured Lieutenant Colonel McKenna, it should now be safe for you to return home."

WHAT?!

Liam leaned forward a bit, forgetting the pain for a moment. "What-- when-- how?" he blurted out.

Da'an's hands moved in a soothing pattern. "Earlier this afternoon. Agent Sandoval is currently interrogating him," the Taelon replied.

Under ordinary circumstances - or even yesterday, for that matter - Liam would have immediately demanded to join Sandoval. He had his own questions for McKenna - like why the lieutenant colonel had chosen to make him a target.

At the moment, however, he was in a great deal of pain, and now that the shock of McKenna's capture had had a minute or two to fade, he was starting to feel fatigue pull at him. Combined with the thought of finally getting to sleep at home, in his own bed, he found himself agreeing with Da'an's decision.

"All right," he murmured, leaning back in the chair. "I'll let Roberts take me home."

"I am gratified you have decided to be sensible," Da'an commented, his tone ironic.

Liam ignored the gentle taunt, feeling his eyes start to drift closed again. Not even the pain was helping to keep him awake at the moment.

"Liam!" Da'an said sharply.

Liam opened his eyes again and looked blearily at Da'an.

"Do not go back to sleep," Da'an ordered him firmly. "You need to stay awake until you arrive home."

"Right," Liam mumbled. He spent the next several minutes concentrating on keeping his eyes open. It was harder than he'd thought.

Finally, the door opened and Roberts poked his head in. "Ready to go, Major?" the Volunteer pilot asked.

Liam nodded and carefully pushed his chair away from the desk. Da'an extended a hand to help him up, and Liam took it reluctantly. He hated showing any weaknesses... but he had the feeling that he wouldn't be able to stand up at all if he didn't accept Da'an's help.

When they got to Roberts' shuttle, Liam carefully got into his seat and then suffered the indignity of having Da'an fasten the restraints - he was perfectly aware that he most likely wouldn't be able to do it himself, but he didn't have to like it.

He was distantly aware of Da'an giving Roberts what sounded like detailed instructions, but he focused what concentration he had on staying awake.

The trip itself seemed to pass quickly; it appeared to Liam that they'd only just left the mothership when Roberts was landing the shuttle just outside the back of the Flat Planet.

He managed to get the seat restraints off himself, and used his left hand to support him as he stood up. The last thing he wanted at the moment was for Roberts to 'escort' him up to his apartment.

"I can make it from here," Liam told the pilot.

Roberts looked doubtful. "Are you sure, Major?" he asked uncertainly. "If you don't mind me saying so, you look ready to collapse."

Liam nodded as firmly as he could. "I'll be fine. Thank you, Roberts." Getting out of the shuttle, he walked to the door leading to the stairs up to his apartment, and opened it. Once he was in and the door had closed behind him, he heard the shuttle take off.

Climbing the stairs was... interesting - and very slow. He wouldn't have been surprised if it took him half an hour to walk up one flight. Luckily, his door was right by the exit from the stairs, and he stepped in, closed and locked the door, and headed straight for his bedroom. He didn't even bother to take his shoes off before he collapsed into the bed.

Sandoval scowled as he studied McKenna through the virtual glass barrier.

The assassin had refused to answer any questions, except to say that Liam was a traitor and deserved death - which hadn't exactly helped Sandoval keep his temper, though he'd managed it. Barely.

He would have loved to turn McKenna over to the Volunteer 'interrogators', who had become very skilled at extracting the truth from unwilling prisoners. Unfortunately, McKenna was a Covert Ops assassin, which meant that he had extensive training in resisting both interrogation and torture.

If it had been up to him, Sandoval would have just killed McKenna and been done with it. Although the assassin's hatred for the Taelons was something he could understand, by threatening Liam, McKenna had proven that he didn't have a clue about what was really going on, and that made him a serious threat.

The problem with that solution was that they needed to know how McKenna had gotten his information.

First there had been the vaile; Sandoval had no doubt that Doors and Palmer had kept that particular project under the tightest possible security, and yet McKenna had managed to steal it, and in such a way that they hadn't even realized it was missing until three or four days later. Whoever had given McKenna the information about it could prove to be a valuable resource, if properly cultivated.

Then there were the breaches in Taelon security. McKenna had found out about Zo'or's trip to Africa and had been waiting there for Liam. That had been bad enough; but added to that, he had somehow acquired the blueprints of the Washington Taelon Embassy. The Volunteers had found them in his hotel room.

Leaning against the wall so that he couldn't be seen from the cell, Sandoval rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. Getting McKenna to talk looked like it was going to be a long-term project, unfortunately. None of his tricks would work on the man - hell, McKenna had taught him half of them, indirectly!

Gritting his teeth, he closed his eyes and slammed his hand against the wall in frustration. This was getting him nowhere!

"Agent Sandoval," said a quiet voice from behind him, and Sandoval took a deep breath in an effort to regain control and turned around to see Da'an approaching.

"Da'an," he replied calmly.

"Has McKenna provided you with any information yet?" Da'an inquired, making no mention of his lapse of control, which was a relief. He really didn't want to have to explain it to the Taelon.

Sandoval shook his head. "No; and it's unlikely that he will anytime soon. He's trained to resist interrogation procedures."

Da'an frowned. "Surely there must be some way to convince him to talk. What about drugs?"

Sandoval shrugged. It was a possibility, but not one that he preferred to use. "I am uncertain whether or not they would be effective. We would need a doctor present if we were to try them." Which was the other reason he would prefer not to use drugs. His preference was to be alone when he was interrogating someone, in case they let slip some information that he would rather the Taelons didn't know about - how McKenna had discovered the vaile, for instance.

However, as he thought about it, he realized that drugs might be the only way to get McKenna to talk.

He sighed. "I can have a doctor who is authorized to administer interrogation drugs here by tomorrow," Sandoval said.

"Excellent," Da'an replied. Then he studied Sandoval for a moment. "You appear fatigued, Agent Sandoval," he commented. "If it will take until tomorrow to get this doctor, perhaps you should get some rest."

Da'an was right, of course. He hadn't gotten any sleep last night - he'd been too preoccupied by the revelation that Ha'gel was Liam's other parent; and then there had been the explosion this morning...

Rubbing the bridge of his nose again, he took a deep breath. "Very well. Is Major Kincaid still in my office?"

Da'an looked puzzled at the question. "Corporal Roberts piloted him home some time ago," he replied. "Now that McKenna has been captured, there was no reason for Major Kincaid to remain on board the mothership."

No reason - except that I automatically assumed that he would be coming back to my apartment with me, Sandoval thought ruefully. Considering Liam's reaction to the idea of staying away from his own apartment for the past five days, it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that he would have seized on the chance go home. "In that case, Da'an, I will see you in the morning," he said, nodding to the Taelon, and headed for the shuttle bay.

Liam looked around, feeling scared. He knew this place; it was the same place where he'd met Ha'gel when he'd gone to rescue Augur and Maiya... but it felt... different. Not like the psychokinetic dimension he'd been in.

Why am I here?

"I'm sorry, Li'am," came a quiet voice from behind him, and Liam turned; and stared at the gleaming being in front of him.

"Ha'gel?" he asked hesitantly. What was going on? And why did he feel so uneasy?

"I'm sorry," the Kimera repeated.

"For what?" Liam asked. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to like this...

"For the burden I've placed on you," Ha'gel replied. "I was the last of my kind..."

No! Liam screamed mentally, knowing what was coming. This isn't real... this is a dream... this isn't real...

"I succumbed to a biological imperative," Ha'gel was continuing...

...Only all of a sudden, it wasn't Ha'gel's voice. It was Sandoval's.

"I'm sorry, Liam," Sandoval - and it was Sandoval this time, not Ha'gel - said, and began moving away.

Leaving him.

"Father!" Liam called desperately. Sandoval didn't turn back. "Father, please! Don't go!" His voice rose to an anguished scream. "Father!"

Liam's eyes snapped open and he stared up at the ceiling for a moment before he realized that he was at home, safe. Alone.

Tears sprang to his eyes as he remembered the dream. It was like the one he'd had both Sunday and Monday nights... except that those times, it had only been Ha'gel in the dream; Sandoval hadn't been there at all - hadn't abandoned him the way Ha'gel had.

But now...

Sandoval had to have seen his shaqarava. There really was no way he couldn't have. And he'd said that they needed to 'talk'.

Shivering, Liam sat up, adjusting his sling to relieve some of the pressure he could feel on his shoulder. At least it wasn't hurting too badly.

Sandoval would demand to know the truth; that was the way he was. And Liam would have to tell him. There would be no more hiding behind surprise gifts and little clues...

But how would his father react?

If his dream was accurate... Sandoval would reject him. Or possibly... turn him over to the Taelons.

It's just a dream. It's just a dream. That's all it is. Liam repeated the mantra over and over, trying to convince himself. It doesn't have that feeling; it's not a vision.

I hope...

Taking a shaky breath, he rubbed his left hand across his eyes, blotting away the tears. Whatever happened, crying wouldn't help.

"And he was looking for me," Liam murmured out loud, in an effort to boost his spirits. Maybe if he actually heard the words, it would help him to believe them. "He wanted to find me."

Except that you don't know that he still wants to. You've been too busy to find out whether he's continued to search since Dr. Curzon told him that his son was a hybrid.

"Stop it!" Liam snapped at himself. He didn't want to think about that. In fact, there was a lot he didn't really want to think about. He needed to do something.

Standing up, he cast a glance at his watch, and blinked in surprise. Nine o'clock? Was it evening... or had he slept the entire night?

Walking into the main room, he pulled the curtains aside for a moment. It was morning.

He could go to the Embassy. He'd have to go anyway - Da'an's office had probably been devastated, which meant that he was going to have to see if anything could be salvaged - and it would definitely serve to keep him occupied.

Sandoval can find you there with no problem, came the thought, but Liam ignored it. If his father wanted to find him, he could do so easily enough; Liam didn't have to be at the Embassy for that. And at least at the Embassy he could distract himself.

And when Sandoval finds you and demands to speak to you? What will you tell him? Do you really think he'll be willing to accept you? He's tried to kill you--

"Stop thinking like that!" Liam said, furious with himself. Grabbing his jacket, he draped it over himself and walked out the door.

"What?" Sandoval said carefully, staring at Zo'or. He could not believe that he'd really just heard what he thought he had.

Zo'or looked at him. "I thought I had made myself quite clear, Agent Sandoval. I said that you are to take the rest of your vacation, starting today."

"But... Zo'or... Is now really the best time? With Major Kincaid on medical leave for two weeks," Sandoval protested, "that leaves you with no--"

Zo'or waved his hand dismissively. "Si'al has agreed to lend me Colonel Ahmid's services as Protector while you are on vacation, and Ra'am's Protector will be available if need be." He turned away. "Enjoy your vacation, Agent Sandoval," he said dismissively.

Sandoval stared narrowly at Zo'or for a moment before he obediently left the bridge.

He'd arrived on board the mothership two hours ago, had made the arrangements for one of the FBI's doctors to come up to handle the interrogation of McKenna, and then Zo'or had summoned him.

As he walked through the corridors of the mothership, he considered Zo'or's actions carefully. It wasn't like the Taelon to be concerned for the well-being of any Implant, which made the reasons he had given for ordering Sandoval to finish his vacation - namely, that Sandoval looked as though he could use a break - suspicious at best. And added to that, the way Zo'or had insisted that he work from the Washington Embassy yesterday, rather than the mothership...

Sandoval's mouth tightened. It was becoming more and more likely that Zo'or was up to something... something that he wasn't sharing. The question was: what?

He stalked into his office, barely giving Captain Jardine a nod as he passed him. To make things even worse, this also meant that he wouldn't be able to question McKenna about the leak at Doors International.

He sat down in his chair and glowered at his desk. This was not shaping up to be a good day.

Then his eyes fell on the large envelope he'd brought up from his apartment, and he took a deep breath. He'd promised himself that as soon as McKenna was caught, he'd talk to Liam. Well, McKenna was in a cell a few levels away, awaiting the arrival of Dr. Bacon; it was time. He couldn't keep putting this off.

Pulling out his pocket watch, he checked the time; it was almost ten o'clock in Washington DC. Liam should be awake and up and about by now.

Opening his global, he input his son's number, and waited.

Liam sighed as he surveyed the wreckage of Da'an's office. The damage from the bomb had been extensive, and despite the fact that over twenty-four hours had passed, the building still hadn't managed to completely repair itself yet.

Corporal Standings, who'd apparently been helping the forensics team yesterday, had said that they believed that the reason there had been so much damage done was that the detonator - which had been made with Taelon technology - had interacted with the Semtex from the bomb, and that that interaction was responsible for the excessive force produced by the bomb's blast.

Liam knew better.

Glancing down at his hands, he winced. The energy he'd used to push the explosion away had added to the damage caused by the bomb - and it had been a lot of energy, which meant that he was partially responsible for the damage.

On the other hand, if he hadn't used his shaqarava, he and Sandoval would most likely have been vaporized; that made the damage by far the lesser of two evils.

Leaning carefully against the wall, he frowned. Yesterday he'd been too out of it to fully consider the implications of his shaqarava being active again - aside from the danger of the fact that Sandoval had seen--

No! Don't think about that!

Shaking his head in an unconscious effort to push the thought away, Liam returned his gaze to the devastation in front of him.

It's a good thing that I don't tend to store anything terribly important in my desk, he reflected ruefully. The explosion had utterly destroyed it; he didn't think there was a piece of the desk larger than a square inch still left in existence.

Da'an's chair and the portal had also been damaged, but not nearly as seriously - after all, it was his desk that had been at the centre of the blast. The portal had been removed, and Volunteers were going to install a new one later today; and Da'an's chair was part of the building, and as a result was already being repaired by the automatic systems. His desk would have to wait a bit longer.

Of course, since McKenna had been caught, he was now officially on medical leave, Liam remembered. For two weeks. So there wouldn't be a huge rush to get it done.

Two weeks. What am I supposed to do for two weeks? Liam thought with a sigh. Aside from avoiding Sandoval and letting Dr. Park run those tests...

Pushing himself away from the wall, Liam was just about to head out of the Embassy when his global beeped. He opened it, and almost groaned when he saw who it was. So much for avoiding him...

"What is it, Sandoval?" he asked, doing his best to keep the apprehension he felt out of his voice.

"I need to see you in my office," Sandoval replied. "There are some things that we need to discuss." His face bore its usual impassive mask, but there was no doubt in Liam's mind as to what the subject of the 'discussion' would be.

Unfortunately, he couldn't exactly run - there was nowhere to go.

"I'll be right up," Liam replied. Closing his global again, he took a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down, and went in search of Cpl. Roberts.

Renee leaned forward and rubbed her forehead with one hand.

She'd been working most of yesterday and all last night in an effort to discover exactly what had happened to the emergency portal that had supposedly been sent to the Arctic research facility; and so far, she hadn't found anything. Or to be more precise, she hadn't found anything to explain why the portal had never gotten there.

According to all the records, the portal had been sent to the Arctic, and had arrived there - and had been signed for by Dr. Greenbaum.

Which meant that either Dr. Greenbaum was lying - which was possible, but unlikely, since Renee trusted Jonathan's instincts about his people - or someone had done some expert forgeries, and the portal had actually gone somewhere else.

The emergency portals were outgoing only, and were hardwired to send any authorized users directly to the portal in the basement levels of Doors International's headquarters. Unauthorized users - anyone who wasn't either assigned to the portal's facility or a high-ranking member of DI - simply weren't transported. But if the portal had been in someone's hands long enough for them to program a new selection of 'authorized users' - which it could easily have been, since it had been missing for almost three years - it could be a serious security threat.

And then there was the matter of the vaile... As Dr. Morneaux had pointed out, the only way for McKenna to have known about it was for someone to have told him. Unless he'd discovered it completely by accident, of course... but that was highly unlikely. So that was something else that she had to look into - and soon.

Then there was that venture Jonathan was starting with Reynaud, ibn Muhammad, and Tradden... That was yet another thing she had to work on.

If Liam ever finds out about that, his tantrum over the vaile will probably pale into insignificance by comparison, she thought sourly, continuing to rub her forehead. She was starting to develop a headache. Not that it was much of a surprise, considering what she had to deal with at the moment, and the fact that she hadn't gotten any sleep for the past day and a half... And just what did Jonathan mean when he said that he could deal with Liam if it was needed?

Sighing, she stood up and walked over to the coffee pot she kept in her office for when she had these all-nighters. She just hoped that Liam was having more luck finding McKenna than she was dealing with the security breaches.

Turning around to head back to her desk, she froze as a sudden thought struck her. "Oh, my God..."

Sitting down, she immediately ordered the computer to bring up all security records from the lower levels for - not this past Monday - but the one before it; the day McKenna had broken in. If I'm right...

Liam quietly eased open the door to Sandoval's office and slipped in.

Sandoval was sitting at his desk, his attention fixed on the screen in front of him - probably reading a report of some kind. He didn't look up as Liam entered; instead, he simply instructed, "Lock the door."

Liam hesitated for a moment, uncertain - Why does he want the door locked? he wondered - and then obediently did so. He glanced around the office for a moment, absently noticing that Sandoval's desk was clear except for a single piece of paper, and then slowly sat down in his usual chair. "You... said there were some things we needed to discuss," he started carefully.

Sandoval sighed and leaned back in his chair, flicking off his screen. Turning to face Liam directly, he nodded. "Yes... in fact, there are quite a few things we have to discuss. The first involves McKenna."

Liam blinked, feeling confused and off-balance. He'd expected the first thing Sandoval would do would be to demand an explanation of exactly why he had shaqarava - not to act as though this was an ordinary meeting. "What about him?" he asked, doing his best to keep the confusion out of his voice.

"Da'an informed me that he had told you that McKenna had been captured; did he provide you with any details?"

Liam shook his head. "No..." he replied. He wasn't about to explain to Sandoval that he'd been too out of it yesterday to understand, even if Da'an had tried. It would only raise questions, and if Sandoval wasn't going to mention his shaqarava, he certainly wasn't going to bring them up.

His father nodded. "The detonator for the bomb was remote-controlled, and apparently the remote had to be within a two-block radius of the detonator to be effective," he explained. "We found McKenna lodged in a hotel about ten blocks from the Embassy."

Liam frowned. "Why would he have done that?" he demanded. "It doesn't make sense! He had to know that we would be looking for him!"

"Because he thought that you - or possibly both of us, he hasn't told me which - were dead," said Sandoval. "The forensics technicians found the remains of a miniature camera in the debris from the explosion. The Volunteers found the record from the camera in McKenna's bags. He knew that we were both in the room when he detonated the bomb.

"He probably assumed that the Volunteers would be too distracted to look for him immediately; and he had laid a carefully concealed false trail through the portal system to help throw them off his track, which he activated before doubling back and renting a room under an alias. I wouldn't be surprised if he thought that once they started looking, they wouldn't think to look nearby."

Liam shifted uneasily in his chair. If not for his shaqarava, the bomb would have killed both of them - he had no doubt of that. The question was, did Sandoval realize it?

Then Sandoval met Liam's eyes, his expression intense, but otherwise unreadable. "When were you planning on telling me?" he asked abruptly.

Liam stared at him in complete bewilderment. Where had that come from? He felt almost as though Sandoval had suddenly not only switched subjects, but had also started right in the middle of a conversation. And what had he meant by that? "What are you talking about, Sandoval?" he asked, feeling the apprehension start to return in a rush.

Sandoval studied his face for a long moment, and then pulled open one of his desk drawers. "I suppose, in a way, I should almost be grateful to McKenna," he said reflectively, reaching into the drawer and pulling something out. "Without what happened, I don't know if I'd have ever made the connection."

He put the item he'd taken from the drawer onto his desk, next to the piece of paper Liam had noticed earlier; and Liam froze, feeling his heart rise in his throat, as he recognized it. It was the birthday card he'd given Sandoval with the pictures, the one that had said in writing what he'd wanted to say out loud. He knows...

Sandoval looked at him again, his expression calm, not giving away any hint of what he thought. "Using your left hand to write this was quite a clever idea, actually," he said evenly. "It was only the fact that I compared it to the directions you'd given me to The Happy Greek that made me realize the truth. When were you going to tell me? Or were you waiting for me to figure it out myself?"

He knows! "I-I..." Liam stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. When did he find out? What is he going to do?

"Liam?"

The memory of his nightmare from this morning surfaced, seizing his attention. "I'm sorry, Liam." That was what Sandoval had said, just before he'd walked away. Had it been a vision? He'd never really anticipated that Sandoval would discover the truth before he decided that it would be safe to tell him... not even when he'd figured out that Sandoval was looking for him... What will he do now?

Will he walk away, like in the dream? Is he going to tell Zo'or and the Synod? Liam felt a chill go through him at the thought of being turned over to the Taelon scientists as an 'experiment'. Does he... would he really even want a hybrid son? Ha'gel didn't...

"Liam, look at me!" Sandoval said sharply, interrupting the fears whirling through his mind.

Liam blinked, surprised to find Sandoval standing right next to him. He hadn't even realized that Sandoval had gotten up.

He didn't dare look at Sandoval's face, dreading what he would see there; contempt - or worse, disgust...

"It's all right," Sandoval said firmly.

It took a moment for the words to penetrate Liam's fear. 'It's all right.' Did that mean... Hesitantly, he looked up at his father; really looked.

Sandoval gave his son a tentative smile, hoping to convey his feelings and erase the terrified look from Liam's face.

The minute Liam had figured out what Sandoval was asking, his face had gone as white as a sheet and his expression had become one of absolute terror.

That hadn't been at all what Sandoval had expected. He'd had no idea that Liam would react this way to finding out that he knew.

But it should have, he reflected somberly, as he crouched down in front of his son. Liam is Kimera - which means that if Zo'or and the Synod found out... they'd want him dead, at any cost. They certainly didn't hesitate to order Ha'gel killed. And Liam has to know that.

And considering what I've done for Zo'or before this... what I've done to Liam... No, I shouldn't be surprised he's reacting this way. I should have thought this through better.

"It's all right," he repeated, trying to gentle his tone. That probably wasn't the best way to put it, but at the moment, Sandoval simply couldn't think of anything else to say.

Liam hesitated for a second, and then, to Sandoval's surprise, he suddenly found himself with his arms wrapped around Liam's shoulders as his son clung to him, shaking.

A moment later, Liam pulled away, his face flushed. "I-I'm sorry," he murmured, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the floor just to the side of Sandoval's desk. His voice sounded thick, as though he was close to tears.

"Don't be," Sandoval said firmly. I definitely should have given a lot more thought to how I was going to handle this. "I meant it when I said that it was all right." He reached up to rest one hand on Liam's good shoulder, feeling the minute tremors that still shook his son's frame as he did so.

After a moment, he felt Liam's shivering start to subside. He didn't let go or move away, however; something told him that doing so would be the worst possible move at this point.

They stayed like this - Liam looking down at the floor and Sandoval crouched beside him, watching him - for a few minutes, and Sandoval was relieved to feel Liam relaxing even further. It appeared that this, at least, was the right way to handle things.

"So," Sandoval said finally, judging that Liam was relaxed enough for him to ask, "when were you going to tell me?"

There was a pause, and then, "I don't know," Liam admitted quietly.

He pulled away from Sandoval's hand; Sandoval let him go, but found himself surprised at how hard it was.

"I... I don't know if I was going to tell you," Liam continued after a moment, his eyes still focused on the floor and his voice soft. "I wanted to, especially after..." He hesitated. "After you were... sick, but..." He faltered, and Sandoval could see that he was reluctant to continue.

"I was looking for you," Sandoval said quietly.

Liam's head jerked up at that, and he met Sandoval's eyes for the first time since this conversation had started.

"When Dr. Curzon told me about the blood, told me I had a son..." It was Sandoval's turn to pause, as he remembered the combination of shock and joy he'd felt at the revelation. "More than anything else, I wanted to find him - you. As soon as I got out of the hospital, I started searching. Everywhere.

"In fact," he added, wondering why it was suddenly his voice that sounded thicker, "that was how I'd planned to spend my vacation; looking for you."

Liam blinked, his expression incredulous; and then it faded, to be replaced with hesitation, as something else apparently occurred to him. "W-what else do you know?" he asked, his voice getting even softer; he was obviously nervous, though not as terrified as he had been.

As Liam spoke, Sandoval started to stand up and stretch; he'd been getting a bit stiff from crouching so long. He saw a sudden flash of fear cross Liam's face, and sighed silently. Speaking in a calm, quiet tone, hoping to put his son at ease, he replied, "I know that you're part-Kimera, and that Siobhan was your mother - which explained some things I had been wondering about. I admit, it took me a while to figure it all out, but I did.

"And no," he added, hoping that this would relieve Liam's fear, "I haven't told Zo'or anything; and I don't intend to."

Liam didn't appear to be as concerned about that as he'd expected. Instead, his son asked, "And... you don't mind?" He sounded uncertain, and the fear hadn't left his face.

Don't mind? Don't mind what? Sandoval wondered, puzzled... and then, abruptly, all the pieces started to come together. The pictures and the card... the revelation that his son was a hybrid... Liam's reaction to the fact that he knew the truth...

He's afraid I won't want him!

"Liam... you're my son." It was the first time in this conversation that either of them had mentioned it directly. "Everything else... I won't say it doesn't matter, because it's all part of what makes you who you are, but it doesn't change that one essential fact. You. Are. My. Son. That is what's important to me. That's all that's important to me."

The tension in Liam's slender frame disappeared completely, and Sandoval found himself relaxing as well.

"Now--" he began, about to tell Liam about Zo'or's orders concerning his vacation, when his global abruptly beeped, interrupting him. "Damn it!" he swore. I told Jardine not to disturb me... unless it's important. Damn! "This will just take a minute, Liam," he assured his son, and then headed back to his desk and picked up his global.

Liam leaned back in his chair and let his attention drift as his father answered the call.

He felt almost like a puppet who'd just had its strings cut, so great was the relief he felt. Sandoval - his father - knew about him... and wanted him!

It was a difficult thought to absorb, considering he'd spent the past couple of months worrying about what would happen when Sandoval found out, but he believed it.

Between his father's memories and his own experiences with Sandoval as a colleague, he could recognize when Sandoval was hiding his emotions, and when he was revealing them. Most of the time they remained hidden; in fact, Liam was pretty sure that before this, the only time he'd really gotten an honest look at his father's emotions was the fit of temper Sandoval had had in the hospital when he'd been sick. Before today.

Everything Sandoval had said to him this morning was true. It wasn't just wishful thinking on his part; the emotions behind the words had been honest - and real.

"Liam?"

Liam looked over towards Sandoval's desk to see that his father had finished his conversation, and was looking none too pleased. "What is it?"

His father grimaced. "Colonel Ahmid's here to be briefed on Zo'or's schedule for the next two weeks."

"What?" Liam asked, confused. What was going on?

"I was going to tell you, just before Captain Jardine called, that Zo'or's essentially ordered me to take my vacation - the full two weeks. Since you're going to be on medical leave, Zo'or arranged for Colonel Ahmid to fill in for me."

His father paused, and, not looking at Liam, added carefully, "I was wondering... there's a cabin that the Bureau occasionally uses as a safehouse - or a vacation spot - about three hours drive away from here. It's empty right now..." He hesitated, and then met Liam's eyes directly. "I was wondering if you'd like to come with me."

Liam's eyes widened in surprise at the invitation. "Come with you?" he repeated.

His father looked... uncomfortable, which surprised Liam even more. "You are on medical leave for those same two weeks," he pointed out. "And..." Sandoval hesitated for a moment. "You're my son, Liam. I'd... like to get the chance to know you."

"Yes," Liam declared firmly. He didn't even have to think about it. "Yes, I'll come." He smiled tentatively. "I... I'd like that too."

Sandoval took a deep breath, feeling relief run through him. This wasn't going to be easy, of course. There was a lot of history between the two of them, most of it unpleasant; but he was willing to try, and so was Liam. They'd make it work.

"I've still got some things to do up here - like brief Colonel Ahmid," he said. "And finish making arrangements for the cabin. And you should probably see Dr. Park before we leave. How about I pick you up at your apartment tonight? That will give you the rest of the day to pack and tell whoever you need to."

"All right," Liam replied, just as someone outside chimed for admittance.

Sandoval glared at the door, and then grimaced ruefully. "I'll see you tonight," he told his son.

Liam nodded shyly, and then headed for the door as Sandoval schooled his expression back into his typical impassive mask. Unlocking it, Liam nodded to Colonel Ahmid and Captain Jardine, and then disappeared down the hall.

"Thank you, Captain; that will be all," Sandoval said, dismissing Jardine with a slight nod. Then he turned to Colonel Ahmid. "If you'll take a seat, Colonel, we'll get started on Zo'or's itinerary for the next two weeks. He has an interview in Baltimore tomorrow afternoon; security arrangements are already in place, but you will want to review them..."

Doors frowned slightly as he tapped the screen. It flickered and changed, revealing Henri Reynaud's face.

"Henri? Is something wrong?" Doors asked.

"Mais non, mon ami!" Henri replied. "Au contraire; I have some very good news for you, Jonathan."

"Oh?" Doors inquired, leaning forward. "And what news might that be?"

Henri smiled. "I think that we are going to be ready ahead of schedule on that little project we discussed Monday," his friend replied.

Doors smiled, surprised. "That's very good to hear, Henri! The sooner we get this into operation, the better off humanity will be."

"Bien sûr; that is why my people have been working non-stop on the matter of the infrastructure. I look forward to taking you and the lovely Ms. Palmer on a tour."

"I look forward to it as well," Doors said, and then stopped as the door to his office was flung open and the aforementioned Ms. Palmer entered, her expression boding no good. "Henri, I'm afraid I have to go," he told his friend. "I'll call you back a bit later to arrange a time, all right?"

"Certainement," Henri replied, and the channel closed.

Doors looked up as Renee stalked over to his desk and perched on the corner. "All right, Renee, what is it?"

"I think I have an idea as to who snatched the emergency portal," Renee began. "And you're not going to like it, Jonathan."

Doors frowned darkly. "I don't like it already," he snapped. "One of our emergency portals being stolen... it's a potential security nightmare!"

"Well, that nightmare became a reality last week," Renee replied grimly. "Remember we were wondering how McKenna managed to get in and evade all the security cameras and sensors leading to the lower levels?"

Doors' frowned deepened. He didn't like where this was going. "Are you trying to tell me that McKenna used the stolen emergency portal to enter this building?" he demanded.

Renee nodded. "That's exactly what I'm telling you," she confirmed. Leaning over, she tapped a command into his computer, bringing up the security record for the top-secret portal room. The date and time stamp said that it was from last Monday.

There was a flash of light from the portal, and a moment later, McKenna was standing there. A moment after that, the record went blank - like all the other ones on the lower levels.

"The camera re-activated an hour later, just like all the rest," Renee added.

Doors rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a headache. "You know what this implies, don't you?"

Renee nodded solemnly. "Yes, I do. The organization and foresight needed to pull this off..." She trailed off. Neither of them needed to say it out loud.

There was another player in the game.

Dr. Park looked up as the door to her office opened and Liam poked his head in.

"Busy?" he asked.

Dr. Park laughed. "Always," she replied. "But not too busy. Do you want to come in?"

Opening the door wider, Liam slipped in - and Dr. Park frowned. "Where's your escort?" she demanded. "After what happened yesterday morning, I would have thought they'd be sticking to you like glue."

"Oh, Sandoval and the Volunteers got McKenna yesterday afternoon," Liam replied. "He's in a cell on the mothership at the moment, awaiting trial."

As relieved as she was to hear that, Dr. Park couldn't help frowning deeper as she studied the young man. Liam sounded... happy. Happier than he'd been in a long time.

Not that that was a bad thing... in fact, it was nice to see Liam happy for once. But considering the events of the past week, his reaction was... unusual, to say the least.

"What's up?" she asked. "You sound... cheerful."

Liam gave her a faint smile. "I'm taking advantage of those two weeks of medical leave you and Da'an foisted on me," he replied. "I'm going to take a vacation."

"A vacation," Dr. Park repeated slowly.

Liam nodded. "And don't worry; I'll have someone with me," he added. "I just thought I'd better let you know what I'm doing."

"Who are you going with?" she demanded, concerned. "Just in case... something... happens..." Her eyes flickered down to his hands.

Liam met her gaze evenly. "Someone I trust," he replied. Judging from his expression, he didn't intend to give her any more details.

Dr. Park sighed resignedly. "All right, as long as you're sure... So, how are you feeling?" she added, gesturing towards the chair opposite her.

Sitting down, Liam sighed. "My shoulder's hurting a bit, but not too much," he replied. "It's throbbing, but not in agony."

"And," she lowered her voice, "your shaqarava?"

"Oh, right... umm..." Liam hesitated, and then held out his left hand for her to take a look.

Taking it, Dr. Park's eyes opened wide in surprise. The dark red mark was gone; in its place was the light, reddish-tinged diamond shape that Liam had had originally. "What happened?" she demanded.

Liam squirmed slightly in his chair. "I assume you heard about the bombing?" he asked.

Dr. Park glared. "It was on all the news programs, Liam. Of course I heard about it!" Then she noticed the cut on his forehead. "Was that caused by the bomb?" she asked, gesturing to it. The cut appeared to be half-healed, but he definitely hadn't had it Monday afternoon when he'd left the hospital.

"Yes..." Liam began slowly. "But... I would have been dead, if I hadn't managed to activate my shaqarava. When everything was over, they were back to..." he waved his left hand to illustrate.

Frowning thoughtfully, Dr. Park studied him. He was hiding something. It was obvious to her; after all, she'd known him since he was born. But if whatever he was hiding was important, he would have told her.

"All right. How many painkillers do you have left?"

Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle. "Uh... about half of them, I think," he replied, frowning at it.

"I'll write you another prescription. How far away will you be?" she continued.

"The place is apparently a three-hour drive from the city," Liam replied, sticking the bottle back in his pocket.

Dr. Park handed him the new prescription. "If anything happens, you call me, okay?" she said firmly.

Liam grinned at her. "Sure. But I'll be fine. I promise."

"And when you come back, see me about those tests we have to do," she added, as Liam got up and started for the door.

"Will do! I'll talk to you later," Liam added, before disappearing out the door.

Dr. Park looked after him for a few moments, and then got up, locked the door, and returned to her desk. Reaching under it, she tapped a button, and a concealed drawer sprung out.

The only thing in the drawer was a set of medical records. Liam's. The real ones, not the ones that were on file as Major Kincaid's.

Opening the file, she spent over an hour reading through every entry that she - or Dr. Belman - had ever made, from the detailed tests she'd done on Liam just after he was born, to Sunday's scan results. She added a cryptic note to the end of the file about the return of Liam's shaqarava, and then sat back in her chair and thought about what she'd just read.

The problem was that Liam was only a year old; and they simply didn't know enough about the Kimera to determine what sorts of things would be normal for him, and what wouldn't. That was one of the reasons she and Julianne dragged Liam in for extensive medical tests every two months; so that they had as much data as they could get, just in case something did happen.

There was a pattern to the results of the last two sets of tests, but she wasn't entirely certain what it was yet, just that it was definitely there. Something was changing. And she had no idea what it was, or what to do about it - or if anything should be done about it, for that matter!

I'm going to have to speak to Julianne about this, she decided finally. Whatever happened, they were going to have to be prepared.

Da'an looked up as Liam walked into the room that was serving as his office until the Embassy's systems finished the repairs. "Liam," he acknowledged. "You are looking much better today."

The young hybrid grinned. "Thanks, Da'an. I'm sorry about being... so... out of it last night; what happened yesterday morning really drained me."

"As I told you last night, I was not surprised by that," Da'an replied calmly. Then he studied Liam's face for a moment. "Is there something I can help you with, Liam?" he added.

Liam hesitated for a moment, and then forged ahead. "About my medical leave--"

"I will not go against Dr. Park's recommendations in this matter, Liam," Da'an interrupted firmly. "You need the rest. You will take two weeks of medical leave, beginning today."

"Umm... actually, Da'an, I wasn't really coming here to argue about it," Liam admitted, giving him a rueful smile. "I... made some plans, and I wanted to let you know about them."

"Oh?" Da'an inquired. What had changed Liam's mind so firmly? Only two days ago, he had been set against the medical leave, and resentful of the fact that both Dr. Park and Da'an were insisting upon it. What was different now? "What sort of plans?"

"I'm going to be staying at a cabin out in the country," Liam explained.

"For the two weeks?" Da'an asked.

His Protector nodded.

"Will you be able to manage, with your shoulder?" Da'an continued.

"Someone's coming with me," Liam replied. "I'll be fine, Da'an. I'll see you in two weeks, okay?"

"Of course," Da'an said calmly, and then watched Liam leave.

He was glad that Liam had reconciled himself to the fact that he needed this medical leave. He only hoped that the young hybrid would have the chance to relax while he was away.

Although... He still couldn't help but wonder; why had Liam changed his mind? And... who was going with him? It wasn't as though Liam had many friends, a fact for which - he reflected guiltily - he was greatly responsible.

Sandoval waited patiently as Dr. Bacon got out of the shuttle, checking his pocket watch as he did so.

Personally, he neither cared for nor trusted the doctor, but the man was good at his job, and knew how to follow orders to the letter, both of which were important. All the more so because Sandoval wasn't going to be there to handle the interrogation and ask the questions himself.

"Doctor," Sandoval greeted him coolly.

"Agent Sandoval," Dr. Bacon responded, equally coolly.

"I have a list of questions for you to ask the prisoner," Sandoval said, gesturing slightly toward the corridor that would lead them to the cells. "The order doesn't matter; use your judgment. Ask them in whichever order you feel will gain us the most information. But all the questions must be answered, completely. We need that information."

"Of course," Bacon replied.

Sandoval took the paper he'd listed the questions on out of his pocket and handed it to the doctor. "There may be some difficulties," he added.

Bacon stopped and turned to study him. "What sort of 'difficulties'?" he demanded.

"Lieutenant Colonel McKenna is a fully-trained professional assassin. He is most resistant to all regular methods of interrogation, which is the reason you were called in," Sandoval replied. "He may be resistant to some of your methods as well. You must be careful; we need him alive. You will be given full access to his medical records; that should be of some help."

"I will need access to records of his training as well," Bacon said curtly, turning away and beginning to walk again.

"Not all of those records are available," Sandoval replied calmly. "Those that are will accompany his medical records."

"Well, I suppose that will have to suffice. It may take several days to get all the answers you require, however," the doctor added.

"That is acceptable. Just make sure we get them. Once he has answered all the questions, give the answers to Captain Jardine." Jardine didn't like Bacon any more than he did, although they'd only met once, but the captain knew how to do his job. And in spite of his dislike, he had a certain grudging respect for the doctor's ability to get information.

Captain Jardine met them at the cells. "Agent Sandoval, your shuttle is ready," he reported. Then he nodded to the doctor. "Dr. Bacon," he acknowledged. "Your patient is in cell 4. He's already been given a light lunch. His files are on the terminal in the security room."

"Very well," Dr. Bacon said, nodding shortly, and headed straight for the security room.

Jardine watched him go, and then sighed. "I hope you have a pleasant vacation, sir," he said.

"Thank you, Captain. And just... do your best to ignore Bacon - at least until he comes up with something," Sandoval advised.

"Yes, sir," Jardine said, sighing again. "I guess I'd better go keep an eye on him for the moment, though; don't want him trying to get into anything he shouldn't."

Sandoval's mouth twitched. "I'll see you in two weeks, Captain," he said calmly, and then turned and headed for the shuttle bay.

Colonel Ahmid had been briefed, Zo'or had been informed, the cabin had been reserved; all that remained was for him to get packed and then pick Liam up this evening.

The next two weeks were going to be an interesting experience, Sandoval suspected... and one that he was looking forward to. Very, very much.

McKenna lay on the ledge in his cell, staring up at the ceiling.

For the past twenty hours, he'd been unable to focus beyond one single thought; This is impossible! Kincaid should be dead!

He had never failed so badly before.

And now, not only had he failed to kill his target, but he'd also been captured by the Taelons. Definitely not a good situation to be in, especially considering what details he'd heard of how the aliens' puppets worked.

With a sigh, he sat up and eyed the tray a Volunteer had brought in half an hour ago. Grimacing at the sight of the food - 'gruel' was the term that sprang to mind - he reached for the spoon that had been provided with it.

McKenna's face twisted in disgust at the taste of the meal, but he finished it. There was still a chance, however slight, that he would manage to escape; and if he did, he would need his strength.

As he went to lift the napkin up, he caught sight of a small, folded piece of paper underneath it.

McKenna put the napkin back down on the tray and stood up. Wandering over to the virtual glass barrier that formed the front wall of his cell, he glanced around, acting as though he was looking for a Volunteer to come get the tray.

There was no one in the corridor; he wouldn't be seen.

Returning to the ledge, he sat back down, and then frowned and picked up the napkin again, this time making sure that he picked the paper up with it.

Bringing the napkin up to his face as if he was going to wipe his mouth - just in case there was surveillance in the cell - he scanned the note.

It was very short, and the contents brought a faint smile to McKenna's face. His slight chance at escape had just increased.

Reading it again, he nodded slowly before replacing the napkin - though not the note, which he slipped by sleight of hand into the collar of the jumpsuit he'd been given - on the tray, and then lay back down on the ledge.

'Death to the traitors'... yes, I may just manage to get out of here with my skin intact.

"And in international news today, the man responsible for the recent attacks on Synod Leader Zo'or, Companion-Protector Major Liam Kincaid, and yesterday's bombing of the Taelon Embassy in Washington has been apprehended by a Volunteer task force. Lieutenant Colonel Gary McKenna, a member of the US Army Rangers, is currently in custody on board the Taelon mothership awaiting trial.

"Neither FBI Special Agent Ronald Sandoval - who was in charge of the task force - nor Major Kincaid were available for comment."

Janine Deere turned the screen off and turned to her friend. "So, what do you think about all that?" she asked.

"All what?" returned Alison McPherson, who was trying her best to look as though she hadn't been paying attention to the CBC noon news broadcast as she dusted the bookshelves by the entrance. It hadn't been very busy so far this morning - only two customers, both of whom knew exactly what they wanted and were in and out within minutes - but, as with all bookstores, Ye Olde Booke Shoppe required constant dusting. It was Ali's pet theory that books - especially old and rare ones - had an almost magnetic attraction for dust.

"The news, Ali, the news!" Janine exclaimed in exasperation. "They've caught the man responsible for yesterday's bombing in Washington!"

Ali shrugged. "You know my feelings about the Taelons, Janey," she replied. "I don't give a damn about them or what happens to them."

Janine sighed. "Whatever you say, Ali," she said. "But you can't deny that the world is a safer place, thanks to the Taelons."

Or so they claim, Ali thought sourly. She knew better. She had experienced first-hand the results of some of what the Taelons had done. Not that she could tell Janine - or anyone, for that matter - about that...

"Oh, I almost forgot," Janine said suddenly. "Grant was in yesterday, looking for you."

"You mean Mr. Fellowes?" Ali asked, focusing her attention on her dusting. Grant Fellowes - and his interest in her - was not a subject she wanted to discuss at the moment. Especially not after the names she'd just heard on the news.

Her eyes went to her left hand, where her wedding band had been. Had been... until Boone had taken it, as proof that she was dead.

"Ali!" Janine's voice interrupted her brooding thoughts. "I know he's told you to call him 'Grant'. I've heard him say it at least a dozen times. He likes you, you know. And you could stand to make more friends," she continued, sitting down on her stool and leaning back against the wall. "Grant's a nice man."

Ali rolled her eyes. "He's a reporter," she enunciated carefully. "I... don't... like... reporters." All she needed was for Grant Fellowes to get a bit too interested in her, and start digging into Alison McPherson's history...

Before Janine could respond to that, the bell over the door dinged as it opened and a customer walked in.

Ali tried to return her attention to her dusting, but the news broadcast had dredged up memories; both old, pleasant ones, and the newer, much more painful ones from the past five years.

When she realized that she'd dusted the same bookshelf four times, she gave up. Heading back to the counter, she gave the customer a nod, murmured to Janine that she was going to take a break, and slipped out the back door of the shop.

She'd take a nice long walk around the district; and hopefully, by the time she arrived back at the store, the memories of Ron would be back where they belonged, buried deep.