Part Three

"Weave of Souls"

Chatton Parapsychology Center, Florida. The next day...

          Lucas dropped his duffel bag onto a small yet comfortable single bed in one of the upper dormitories on the spacious Chatton campus. The bed was stiffly made, the edges of the dark green blanket tucked under in the hospital manner, and a single white pillow leaned casually against the knotted wire headboard.

          Placing Samantha�s guitar case in a corner, he spun on his heal and flopped backwards onto the mattress. The box springs creaked in revolt and he bounced slightly at impact. Contented, he sighed.

          Finally, after four hours of traveling in the cramped space of the sea launch, then a personal UEO jet to Florida from San Francisco, and a nap, he was grateful for the time alone. No adults, no medical staff, no great-and-powerful psychics--and if they could sense him now, he didn�t care--and no comments from the ever-present still small voice in the back of his head.

          The image of the owner of that voice lay in the same relaxed position beside him, also reveling in the quiet luxury of personal space.

          The room was small, built to accommodate one person comfortably, had a small kitchenette to the left of the front door, a quaint living area filled with new-age style furniture--mostly with arching design, a short hall beside the kitchen which harbored the bathroom, and directly across the living area from that was the door to the bedroom. Lucas had this hanging open for he knew he would be the only one staying here. Captain Bridger had specifically requested Lucas have some privacy, and the sixteen-year-old happily agreed.

          Soft sunlight danced in patterns on the small writing desk beneath the multi-pained window while it glided to the light gray carpet. The leaves of the Eucalyptus tree outside displaced the rays of white/gold light.

          *You hear that?* Samantha�s voice whispered through his mind.

          He listened, eyes closed, body relaxed to the sweeping sounds of a cool late January breeze rustling through the tree leaves, and the monotonous, subtle whir of a white ceiling fan. He took in a deep breath, not of his own power, but was too engrossed in the blessed serenity of the moment to care.

          �Silence,� they both said in unison.

          He wished it could last forever.

          Lucas saw Samantha sit up and felt her want to do so, but remained as he was, hands clasped above his head, determined to keep the moment.

          *I miss total silence--just closing my eyes and thinking of nothing.*

          ~You did that a lot at Caicos Key. ~

          *It was a nice way to relax. I found I could think more clearly.* Her image lay back down. *No doubt you could use a few lessons.*

          ~Why, do the voices in my head bother you? ~

          *Yes.*

          Lucas grinned.

          Captain Bridger and Dr. Westphalen had stayed until he�d settled in, then left him alone to his own devices--which was nice because they hadn�t let him do that very much in the past.

          Just when he was getting comfortable in his new found atmosphere of no-sound, a short series of rapid beeps forced him back to the reality of intrusive technology. He briefly considered disconnecting his dorm room from the rest of the campus.

          *Don�t get it.*

          The vidcom beeped again insistently. Lucas groaned and got up, walking the short paces to the desk and took a seat in the round spoke-backed chair facing the window. Deftly, he depressed the �answer� button. What he saw on the screen didn�t put that extra ray of sunshine into his life. ~Dad... ~

          �Hello, Lucas.� The middle-aged face of Lawrence Wolenczak filled the majority of the screen with the sights of an active control room for an underwater energy facility buzzing in the background. Clearly the World Power command station in Australia.

          �Hi, dad,� Lucas responded casually, and was aware that Samantha could feel his instant fatigued annoyance. He caught an unspoken Gaelic curse of hexing and answered it with an equally silent feeling of �Leave it alone.� So, Samantha just sat back and watched.

          �I�m sorry for not contacting you sooner, but things got a little hectic over here.� the older man apologized.

          ~Sure you are. ~ Lucas felt he did that a lot when he called, and it irritated him even more. �So what drug you out of your hectic schedule to call me?�

          �Do I need a reason to talk to my son?�

          �Most times,� Lucas muttered. �How�d you find me?�

          �Captain Bridger informed me of your new assignment.�

          Samantha stiffened, and in response, Lucas� stomach muscles clenched. �What did he tell you?� Lucas asked. ~Sam, calm down. ~

          �He didn�t say much, just that the psychics were heavily involved and you were a key element to the success of their current project.�

          *He�s abstract. I�ll give him that.* Samantha�s image crossed her arms, and she forced his heart rate to slow.

          Lucas had to agree with her.

          �I thought I�d wish you luck, and tell your mother how you were doing,� Lawrence continued.

          �Thanks. Tell her I�m fine and I�ll talk to her around Valentine�s Day.�

          Lawrence nodded, but his response was delayed, and Lucas knew what this meant. �You�re not going to see me for Valentine�s Day, are you,� he tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but with Samantha�s conflicting emotions, it was harder than usual.

          Lawrence must have picked it up for he looked apologetic. �We�ve been having some problems with the southern array in synchronizing it with the other ten. It�ll take some time to work out. I�m sorry, Lucas. I�ll make it up to you, I promise.�

          �Yea sure,� Lucas uttered, becoming more disgruntled. ~Why should you start now? You only had sixteen years to follow through. Dammit, I wish you would just... ~

          Samantha blinked for him and considered taking over his speech to tell Lawrence otherwise, but felt that it would only make the situation worse. She couldn�t believe how his father would choose his work over his only son, and was suddenly grateful for the time her father would take from his digs in Egypt to spend with her and her mother during the holidays. Lucas had rarely had that.

          Something warm swept through Lucas� system and he flinched at the comfort.

          �I�ll call you soon, son. Good luck on the assignment,� Lawrence said.

          �Thanks,� Lucas repeated, and shut off the vidcom, leaning back in his chair.

          *Lucas...*

          �Don�t even start, Sam.� He got up and headed into the kitchen to rummage through the fridge for any pre-placed food.

          *He�s your father,* she argued, standing behind him.

          Lucas grabbed a Pepsi. �And I�m his son. What�s your point?� He turned to her. �He�s been doing this for years. I didn�t expect him to change then, and I don�t expect him to change now. It�s just the way he is.�

          *Don�t lie to me, Lucas.*

          �Dammit, Samantha, leave it alone!� he spun on her, then went back to food hunting.

          Samantha felt the clear hurt and bit her lip, causing him to bite his. *How many times has he done this to you?*

          When all she got was a grunt in response, she made him bite his lip again. *It�s clear how much this hurts you, and if you want to hide it from the rest of the world, then be my guest. Just don�t lie to me about it when you know I can sense it.*

          He grabbed an orange out of the bottom drawer and closed the fridge, then started pealing it. �I don�t pry into your personal business.�

          *Oh really,* she crossed her arms and glanced up at him. *So what about wondering what this meant?* She took control of his right hand and swiped his first two fingers quickly against his temple.

          ~Lyn did it after I walked out of lab 2 retrieving one of your books yesterday and you giggled, ~ he thought. He regained control and resumed pealing the fruit.

          *I did not giggle,* she objected.

          �Oh, then I was imagining it? That sign meant �clueless� and was directed at me.�

          *No, it was not.*

          �Don�t lie to me, Sam.�

          She folded her arms. *Hm. Touch�.*

          He took a victory bite of the orange. �I rest my case.�

          *It was an inside joke between us and wasn�t any of your business.*

          �And poking around my head to tell me how screwed up my family is isn�t any of yours,� he shot, popping another slice of orange into his mouth.

          Samantha�s image sat down as he felt her settle back with a pang of guilt. *Sorry for caring.*

          He paused. Sifting through her emotions right now was like trying to unwind the world�s biggest ball of string. As soon as the thought left her, he saw that recent memory of the phone call play across his vision along with a sense of abandonment, but it wasn�t the same. His father�s face wasn�t the one looking back at him, it was someone else he didn�t recognize but knew Samantha did. He stopped in mid chew for a second, then threw away the peal, turning around and facing her image. �What was that?�

          He felt her recoil, like she hadn�t meant to show him that. She gave no immediate answer.

          �Why do I get the feeling there�s more here than you�re willing to admit?�

          She was glad that he could focus on her reflection because it felt more real that talking to herself. She hesitated. It was bad enough to be witness to that vid call, but even worse to be surrounded by Lucas�s emotions by it. That was a part of her life she hadn�t wanted to reveal. How could she tell him about the boarding schools, the endless nights in a nearly empty house waiting for her father�s car to pull up, the trips to Europe to be shone off as her father�s prize--his genius daughter who would someday resurrect remnants of the past in centuries old Egyptian dust and follow in his great footsteps? How could she share the broken promises? Turns out she didn�t have to tell him.

          Lucas sat down in the small round backed plush chair across from her image and pealed away a slice of orange, his eyes drifting. �Closer than either of your realize...� he mused.

          *What?*

          He took a breath and looked at her, eating the slice of orange. �What Dr. Levin said back when all this began. Why you didn�t move on.�

          *Oh.*

          Both were silent for a moment, then Lucas finished off the orange and wiped his hands on his pants. �So, what was it?�

          She averted her gaze to the window. His eyes flicked briefly to the outside before returning.

          *It�s--it�s nothing you should worry about.*

          He simply stared at her, one eyebrow slightly arched. Within, a ripple of apprehension washed through him almost like adrenaline. He felt her sigh.

          *I suppose it�s fair,* she resigned. *About six months ago, Malcolm started becoming suspicious of my behavior. I was becoming tired and lashing out at people over little things. It--*

          �Happens when you get tired, I know,� he finished lightly.

          She made him smile slightly, but was only held a second. *He found out I had been using Naythral for the physical research.*

          Lucas sucked in air through is teeth, disbelief evident on his features. �Naythral?�

          *It was only suppose to be an aid--something that would allow me to better research the dolphin pod in the water so I could accumulate more complete data. I never meant it to go any further,* she defended.

          �Sam, that stuff is dangerous.�

          *I know, I know.* Her image began pacing the room. *This guy Kyle had some in the lab that he�d been tinkering with. He offered to let me use some on the excursions and I agreed thinking it wouldn�t do that much damage.*

          Lucas stood, as he felt her agitation and the need to suddenly move. �Sam, you don�t know what that stuff could have done to you. It�s too unstable--the medical community won�t even use it.�

          *It�s bioengineered to maintain an increased amount of oxygen in the blood stream. I thought it would make a difference in my work, get me closer to...the facts.* she paused, not wanting to press that further. To actually voice her want to be closer to dolphins would make it more real than she wanted to know.

          Lucas looked up, suddenly understanding. �That�s why you can stay underwater as long as you can. That stuff actually altered your lungs.�

          She nodded. *I knew the consequences then and I know them now, but it took Malcolm calling my folks to really end it for me.*

          At once he realized the vid call with the strangers face was her father�s.

          *Yes, he called my dad,* she answered his unspoken question. *And my dad said he didn�t want to see me until I�d worked out my punishment with Malcolm and then he would lance into me. I bet it wounded his pride to have his prize child actually make a human mistake.*

          Lucas could understand that and easily put the pieces together of the abandonment sense. �How long?�

          Her humiliation was evident, so much so that there was no way in hell he could have ignored it. *Two months.*

          Lucas ran his fingers stiffly through his hair and exhaled.

          *He abandoned me during the one time I actually needed a father.* she whispered, sensing a clenching then understanding feeling from Lucas. She halted at the window as if her image could see through the glass.

          Lucas knew how she felt then and recalled her words earlier to him in that first dream they shared. They ran through his mind like an audio recording. �I can see exactly what you see, but I don�t understand how you could miss that.�

          She looked back at him, locking him in her gaze. *Now you understand.* Her voice was low and more serious than he had heard in days. For a second, no words were exchanged, but each knew exactly why captain Nathan Hale Bridger had begun to be more to them than just the man who commanded the biggest boat in the water.

          He leaned back and worried his face with his hands. There were more emotions swirling inside him than he wanted to deal with, and the frightening part was that some of them mirrored his own.

          His eyes drifted to Samantha�s guitar case propped against the desk and stared at it, suddenly struck with the want to pick it up. Samantha�s image looked back at him when he got up, walked over to it, lifted it from its place, and sat back down again. His long fingers clicked the latches off so the lid fell open. Inside was a beautifully crafted two-tone blue acoustic Johnson guitar. Even though it looked well worn, it was also well cared for.

          Samantha extended her awareness into his hands and lifted the instrument from its protective case. She set it in his lap, but all Lucas could do was shake his head.

          �No, I can�t play this. I can�t even play the kazoo.�

          *Come on, everyone can play the kazoo.*

          �No, everyone can�t. I�m not a musician, Sam.�

          *Well, I am,* Samantha said soft with reassurance.

          He was still slightly skeptical. �I don�t think this is such a...�

          *Relax, Luke. Trust me.*

          �Alright,� he resigned. He shifted the guitar so his left hand grazed the neck and his right lay over the body. �But, don�t call me Luke,� he said with no bitterness.

          Samantha grinned slightly and responded by making a D cord ring clearly through the room. His fingers were stiff at first, having never seriously held a guitar --not counting the air guitar rifts he was use to pantomiming--but because he was a demon typist, training the muscles to her thoughts was easier than she�d expected. She ran his thumb down the six nylon strings to make sure it stayed in tune.

          Lucas watched, feeling the pressure of the strings beneath the pads of his fingers, but having no will to control his arms. It was a strange new experience for him to be creating music on a real instrument rather than with a computer program, and it actually felt alright.

          One cord led to three more, and in short time, Samantha was in full artistic swing. Lucas� long fingers plucked the strings like a professional, gliding from clear note to cord to doodle. He let Samantha guide his fingers, and surprisingly, he could see the music in his head, hear it and feel it as she played. It was absolutely amazing.

          The music slid into a semi-complicated intro, beautiful and haunting, like winds dancing across desert sands. Its simple melody entranced and flowed along two octaves that intertwined to create a melody written on a winding path of its own. Each note carried more meaning than a thousand words. He let his eyes drift closed, immersing himself in this artistic freedom that came from the soul of another human being.

          He couldn�t believe he was actually playing the guitar. Even though Samantha controlled his hands, he was sure the muscle memory would stick with him after she left. It spoke volumes to him. He never thought he could feel so free from simply creating music. It was something he always took for granted, but never fully understood simply because his mind was mathematical. The arts were too chaotic to factor into numbers, to sort out and categorize like applications in neat little folders to be filed later. Artists used their souls, and souls couldn�t be categorized.

          This was another dimension of Samantha Haley Kinkade he had never known. As his fingers plucked the strings, he realized that what she heard wasn�t just sound waves or notes, or theory, it was a part of herself--real music.

          Samantha struck a final cord and let it linger in the air so it slowly dissipated into the low late winter sounds. For a moment, neither spoke.

          Lucas lowered the guitar to his lap and let the feeling buzz through him. �wow,� he breathed. �You wrote that?�

          The image he saw across from him nodded. *About two years ago. I call it �Prayer of a Wanderer.�*

          �It�s beautiful.�

          *Thank you. I finished it after my grandmother died from cancer a couple days before my graduation from Berkeley.*

          �Uhm, I�m sorry.�

          *It�s ok. She missed my grandfather too much, I guess, and after he died when I was a kid, I...she couldn�t hold on anymore. They say that happens when two people are that much in love.*

          It was a thought that had hardly crossed Lucas� mind. His grandmother had never given him cause to hate her, though she had never made a special trip out of her way to see him or randomly bake cookies. The Wolenczak women were not known for their skill in the kitchen. Still, he wondered what having that kind of grandmother would be like--an Auntie Em sort of thing? He also wondered if his grandmother had passed away still loving her husband the way Samantha�s had.

          �I�m going,� Lucas finally said after a pregnant pause. He placed the guitar back in its case and closed it. �We have a few minutes before they want us there anyway, so I�m gonna take a look around.� ~Come if you want, ~ he added humorously to lighten the thickened atmosphere.

          The conversation ended, he shoved his dorm keys in his pocket, and left the room. As much as Spyers gave him the creeps, it was about time they got this separation experiment underway.

* * * *

          Evening fell gracefully along the Florida night sky and basked the Parapsychology center in the dwindling humidity of a near tropical late January night. The comfort level was perfect for anyone in any part of the world for about an hour, but after that, a sweater was required to maintain it. All throughout the campus, various activities were dying down save for a handful of night classes. Students wandered back to their dorms, some hanging around levitating objects, some involved in telepathic conversations, and an art class was busy in tying an intricate Celtic knot out of a long white rope through telekinesis. It had all the academic appeal of a high class university, yet with a comforting layer of nature that eased the eye into the nuances of the campus.

          A serene, two tiered fountain flowed in the center of a manicured garden laid out in front of the main building.

          Nathan Bridger and Kristin Westphalen took a seat in front of the polished cherry wood desk in the dean's office. The decor of the spacious room gave a sense of peaceful stillness from the many plants that had been placed around the floor, on pedestals, and hanging from the ceiling. Waning light filtered in rays along the soft carpet from a wide multi-pained window that offered an unhindered view of the campus center.

          The solid oak door opened smoothly, revealing a tall African woman in a powder blue dress and matching headband that wrapped around her thick curly hair. Her features were smoothly etched into a warm face that emitted the same peaceful sense as the room.

          �Thank you for coming,� she smiled as she shook Nathan's hand and sat down behind the desk, clasping her hands on the neat surface. Even those with no psychic abilities would read easily that Laura Fletcher was a woman who commanded respect, though in a welcoming manner.

          �It's our pleasure, Mrs. Fletcher,� Bridger returned the warm smile.

          �Please, call me Laura.�

          Nathan smiled and nodded. His small psi ability registered her instantly, and--although he wasn�t aware of the source--he relaxed. He�d learned early on in life to trust his gut feelings for they had hardly ever steered him wrong in the past.

          Laura slipped easily into conversation, keeping both her guests in eye contact. "I have discussed this matter with the department heads and they believe that silence would be the best approach due to the complex nature of young Mr. Wolenczak's--and Ms. Kinkade�s--situation. Only a few select individuals would even know of his real reason for being here. As far as everyone else is concerned, he�s testing and updating our security systems. �

          �Good move,� Bridger agreed.

          �Indeed. Though, I must say, to be presented with something as outstandingly rare as this is truly an incredible experience.�

          �He's been very adamant about his privacy lately,� Westphalen said, crossing her legs. �I don't think Lucas would have it any other way.�

          �Considering someone else is sharing his body with him at all times, I don't blame him.� Laura leaned back in the short moment of silent agreement from the other two. �With this in mind, we've chosen Professor Terrence Maybrid's department as the center of study. He has most of the equipment we'd need for a case such as this, as well as an extensive knowledge of the area.�

          Bridger�s eyebrow raised curiously. �And what equipment is that?�

          �Professor Maybrid heads the department of Spectral Phenomena and Analysis. He's our foremost teacher on spirit sightings and ghosts, poltergeists--dealing with the individual consciousness. And he is also an accomplished mediary.� She smiled when Bridger realized she'd answer his unspoken question about Maybrid's personal attachment. �He's very fascinated by this.�

          �It falls in with his line of work,� he agreed, �but Samantha's not dead.�

          �No,� Kristen added, "her body is still undergoing repairs, and with the help of your doctors, her chances for survival may well improve.�

          �We�re hoping,� Laura nodded. �Returning her is only one of the steps we'll have to take in a line of who knows how many. Being in someone else�s body for so long may have repercussions we�re unaware of and we must deal with them accordingly.� She paused, letting it sink in. �This has never been done before. We�re not sure what to even expect, but first we have to focus on separating them before they bind to each other completely. How to undo that �weave of souls�--as you can say--will be difficult, but I do not believe impossible,� she assured them.

          Nathan hadn�t vocally admitted how complicated it might be to return them both to normal, but Laura�s statement had brought it into harsh clarity. Before, he�d somehow convinced himself that once Samantha�s body was healthy, all Lucas would have to do is push her soul back to it and she would wake up, perfectly normal. To keep hope in this situation, he�d repressed the doubt that it wouldn�t work, the risk was too great, or both would be harmed irreparably. He forced back the foresight of an unwanted outcome, though his anxiety seeped into his voice. �When will you begin?�

          �This evening.�

          �So Soon?� Westphalen voiced concern.

          �The sooner the better.� Laura kept her cool, but didn't lie to them. She could feel their concern swirling like a whirlpool, and the captain�s emotions washed around her like ripples in a pond. �Professor Maybrid has already devised a working theory and is eager to try it. In fact, Lucas should be by very soon.�

          As if on queue, a quick knock came at the door. Both Bridger and Westphalen turned to see who it was, but Laura held her state of grace. �Come in, Lucas.�

          Lucas stepped in to find all three pairs of eyes locked on him.

          *Oh look. We�ve spooked the natives*

          ~How did she know? ~ He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but she got there first.

          �Really, Lucas,� she smiled like a mother would to a child. �I thought you�d know better than to wonder such things when surrounded by hundreds of psychics.�

          �Believe me, I haven�t forgotten that,� Lucas answered with unease. Though Laura looked warm and welcoming, he instantly filled his mind with confusing thoughts in case she had the want to read it. He�d learned quickly about the ways of blocking a Spyer�s mind scan.

          Samantha, on the other hand, did not want to listen to his mental voice repeating the lyrics of �Henry the 8th� obnoxiously over and over. *You�re a paranoid freak, Wolenczak. Shut up!*

          Laura�s smile faded into a look of awed excitement. �Incredible. I can sense it from here.� She stood and approached the boy, not reading his thoughts, but a conflict unseen to the naked eye. �Oron told me he felt something different with you when he met you at the launch, but now that I see for myself--� she stopped, aware her ramblings were making him uneasy. �I�m sorry,� she apologized with a slight nod. �Sometimes you just can�t help what you see.�

          Lucas wondered just what kind of energy vibes he was emitting to these psychics now, and he looked as nervous he felt.

          Samantha played with the ring around his neck in her habit of showing that emotion. Lucas was aware of her motion, but left it alone.

          Bridger stood and spoke up first. �Lucas, this is Laura Fletcher, Dean of the institution.� He hoped the introduction would eliminate any awkward responses.

          *Oh, Glinda�s sister,* Samantha hummed lightly.

          Lucas extended his hand, which Laura took. �Uhm, Lucas. And Samantha,� he added with some hesitation. Referring to himself as another person made him feel like he�d left his sanity back onboard the SeaQuest.

          �Amazing how you�ve already accepted her,� Laura nodded, clearly interested.

          Lucas� words scrambled themselves as he tried to sort them and explain himself. �Accepted? No, see--no I was--see--just introducing--�

          �To live with her as you have been, is acceptance,� Laura cut him off, then politely gestured to the door. �Well, are you ready to begin?�

          That battle lost, Lucas stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded, exhaling. �Uhm, yea. Yea, I�m ready.�

          �Good. Follow me,� Laura said to all of them, and lead them from the office.

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