Mac started entering the names into the VA database.

          "Something else to note," Miss Huang began. " - for most of you, we have managed to utilize your forceful abductions to your advantage. We have revised the files to show that you were terminated. As far as they know. Mr. Ortega and Mr. McGyver will be provided with additional protection. You are still reported as alive. You may be apprehended.We will utilize several of the men in white to guard your persons. And residences. To assure any unwelcome guests are rerouted."

          Mac swallowed. Apprehended? He glanced at the door. "Where should we stay? Here?"

          "No. Rooms will be provided at the Luxor for both of you. I suggest the two of you report there after this meeting."

          Calen spoke. "Immediately"

          Miss Huang continued. "I must maintain appearances until we depart. For those of you who are terminated you will find your accounts are still active to you. You are simply dead to the NWO. Though I'd suggest you not do too much major activity. After all this is Vegas and perhaps they use an impersonator."

          With that, Miss Huang nodded and strode to the doors which opened on her approach. Three constructs stepped into the room. Miss Huang turned at the door. "Mr. Ortega, Mr. Mcgyver and Mr. Meyer - your ride will be waiting to escort you to the Luxor." She nodded and left.

          "Well," Johnny rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I for one am not going to be led around by a construct in white. What I am going to do is get some more food." He smiled at Mac and walked to the tables.

          Kyle moved to the food as well. Mac continued his search of the VA database for the names. So far, he came up blank. You're not focusing, or concentrating. You're letting your imagination run ahead of you. Relax...breath...relax...

          "I have some information for you. Open up your IR port to receive."

          Mac blinked and looked at Calen. The soldier stood to his left, and then sat in Kyle's vacated chair, his own laptop open.

          "Information?" Mac had trouble understanding what the VE was doing sitting beside him - and offering information.

          Calen sighed. "Exactly which part of my sentence is giving you difficulty? Are you listening, or perhaps your mind has been subject to re-conditioning?" A glint sparkled in Calen's steely blue gaze.

          Anger flared briefly, dispersing the flight response he had held in check. Mac taped his keyboard and opened up the IR port. He also launched a security Rote to detect any Technocratic bugs on the information.

          "It's clean. I have no interest in your database." Calen fixed his gaze on his own screen. "Yet."

          Mac ignored the comment. He kept thinking about the information he'd read in the Syd's room. He doesn't play by the rules. He's a troublemaker. He's...

          The Adept's eyes widened as he looked at the incoming data. He's giving me sensitive data.

          Calen grunted. "That should help."

          "Why?" Mac looked up at Calen over his screen.

          "Because it was the most sensible course of action. You would have discovered this information on your own. I simply felt it would be better to save time." His right eyebrow arched. "Unless you are having reservations about taking this mission?"

          "Are you?"

          "I do not know yet." He closed his laptop. "It may be that the NWO has cored out my memory," he paused and tapped the top of his computer's case. "Isn't that what you deviants believed last night? I gathered that you believed the Union's standard psych-evaluation was a method of mind control. That my mind was wiped and re-established after every assignment. And if that is true, who is to say the personality now inhabiting this body isn't that of your father?"

          Mac felt the color drain from his face. He closed his ibook and glanced around the room. The gun was still in his case.

          "Mr. McGyver - what I said last night was not that my memories are erased. That would be inane."

          "But how..." he narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that's not all they do?" How do you know who my father is?

          Calen clasped his hands over his laptop and leaned in closer to Mac. "How do you know no one's ever tampered with your memory?"

          "I-I don't..." the old familiar ache crept back up along Mac's neck. The headache was returning - though in truth - it never really left. "I don't...but I..."

          "Mr. McGyver, I've tapped records from the Progenitor's database that says your father made a pitch to you before you were married. Bet you don't remember that, do you?" Calen sat back in chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

          Pitch? Progenitor database... It was getting harder to breath. A weight pressed against his chest. He knew... this Void Engineer knew who he was. Mac tried to recall that time before his wedding. He searched the memories, of wedding plans, gifts and honeymoon brochures. Not once did he remember having a conversation with his father. Not once had they sat down together and talked. Not once since his mother died had his father graced him with his presence.

          Until the morning of his awakening, and the Agents sent by Dr. Cooper...

          "You're lying."

          "But how do you know?"

          Mac swallowed again. His heart thundered inside his chest. The truth was he didn't. And now he found himself trapped by the same argument he'd begun with the Void Engineer. There is nothing there...you were never conditioned...don't listen to him.

          Calen nodded. "And that is my point. We have to trust our memories are our memories." He shrugged. "I know what the procedures are. I trust my superiors."

          "I...never had superiors..." Mac rubbed at his forehead, the ache gaining in intensity. "Not that I remember."

          Nicholas smirked, though Mac did not see the expression.

          "But at least my Tradition has never obliterated twenty-seven innocents."

          The Engineer gave a long sigh. "Back to that are we?"

          Mac looked at him. "Always."

          "Are you trying to remind me, or just trying to keep yourself from agreeing with me?"

          "Agreeing?" Mac put both hands on the table. "Agree to what? That those mages deserved to die?"

          "Deviants."

          Mac balled his hands into fists. His anger was as much spurned on by this man's seemingly flippant attitude on serious matters, as it was the insinuation he was the same as a Void Engineer. "Maybe I'm reminding you because I believe that those without a conscience need constant reminding. It gives those of us with humanity some vague idea of hope that your souls can be saved." Geez Mac...you sound like a Dream Speaker.

          The left side of Calen's mouth twitched. "You sound like the Dream Speaker. Always preaching about things that are irrelevant." He waved his hand dismissively. "There is enough to deal with in the real world without pondering that metaphysical nonsense."

          Mac blew air from between his lips in a release of tension. He moved the lock of hair that always found its way back over his eyes. You can't argue with him there. You're not that crazy about Ortega yourself.

          "I believe it's time to be going." He stood and gathered his laptop.

          "Calen," Mac stood as well and pulled his case over his shoulder. Go ahead...you have to ask him. "My father..."

          "Is unaware of your location. For now." He nodded and strode to the door.

          Mac reached out for the table to brace himself. Kyle was suddenly at his side. Mac became aware that the Hollow One and Mr. Ortega were the only ones remaining in the lounge. "You okay?"

          "Yeah, yeah."

          "Mr. Snooty's ready to go. I'm going to ride with you." He smiled then moved away.

          Mac took several more breaths before standing and turning to the door. Paul stood just inside, his dark gaze focused intently on Mac. Had the Dream Speaker been listening to their conversation? Or had one of his spooks been listening in?

          This wasn't as much a concern to Mac. He was now on a course he wasn't sure he could move away from. The technological package the Avalon Group offered was enough incentive on its own but now he had another worry.

          A Void Engineer with enough information on him to make his life even more difficult. And not only his life, everyone involved. Calen was a Technocrat, that much he hadn't forgotten. At any minute the man could contact Control. Or NWO. Or even the Progenitors...and then everyone would be in danger.

          He knows who I am...

          Mac moved past Paul and strode onto the front lobby.

          And I am powerless to stop him.

          The Luxor was safe; Miss Huang had reassured him several times during his phone conversation with her. But Mac felt anything but safe. He felt exposed. Vulnerable.

          After checking into his room at the hotel/casino, the Adept had gone back over the list of goodies offered by the Avalon Group. He looked up their make and model on the VA database and emailed Syd with their specs as well. Several of the pieces didn't flag - experimental pieces most likely. And as he suspected - some would need to be installed surgically before he left on Monday - if he chose to go.

          He'd called Miss Huang immediately. "But some of these things," he'd looked up their specs as he spoke. "I'd have to have some prep done. Two I see would need to have genetic markers adjusted. My optic nerve would need to have the right switches installed. None of this can be done in four days."

          The Technocrat's answer had chilled him. "You already possess the necessary prep work, Mr. Mcgyver. The items listed are specifically designed for you."

          The answer had pushed him to review the information he'd received from Calen. Nothing had flagged immediately - until he looked at the Dossiers of their little group. There was no record revealing anything about prep work his father may have conducted. There was little at all about his biological make-up. But what he did see terrified him.

          Now, three hours past midnight, Mac paced the living room of his suite. His shirt was unbuttoned and untucked, his feet bare and his hair a mess where he continued to run his fingers through it as he riled at Trent.

          "...Capture attempts, Trent. Plural. Damn..." he turned and began pacing in the opposite direction. If he weren't careful, he would walk a rut into the floor. "It's all there. My real name, by date of birth, my wife - Trent - this guy knows everything about me."

          "Mac, for the love of magic...calm down," his mentor's voice sounded tired. It was two hours later in Atlanta, but Mac hadn't cared. The moment he'd seen the Dossier, panic drove him to his phone and his fingers found the hairdresser's number with practiced ease. "You have got to take a deep breath. Will you sit? I know you're pacing."

          Mac stopped and lowered his shoulders. He took two deep breaths, then moved into his bedroom to where his computer sat open, the Dossiers displayed on his screen - the last text of his own displaying TERMINATION ORDER BELAYED; MAKE ALL REASONABLE CAPTURE ATTEMPTS, highlighted in a sickening yellow.

          He felt his stomach turn and he put his free hand on his face as he sat on the bed. "Trent - he knows who my father is. He's dangerous. He could expose all of us. He could tell Control that their records for the most part are faked."

          "True - all your fears are founded, Mac. But..." his mentor paused. "I'm not inclined to believe he will. There's no garantee what you're looking at is real, is there?"

          Before Mac could respond, Trent continued.

          "I received the information from the VE database from your friend Syd. Mr. Calen's own records speak volumes to us about his activities. I too am inclined to believe he possess a deviant eidolon. And think of this - if he intended on turning you or any of the forming cabal in - why give you the information?"

          "Because he's a sick mother-fucker who likes playing mind games."

          Trent laughed and the sound only incensed Mac. "Kyle...please," his mentor rarely used his alias name, unless he was serious. And this was serious. Very damn serious. "Don't over react. Not now. It sounds to me like you need sleep. Maybe a workout tomorrow, to work off some steam. For now, wait and see. He's only giving you the information because he believes you'll hack it anyway. He's listed as terminated, from what I see. He's also listed previously as rogue. Going to Control would probably be a bad idea."

          Mac sighed. "Maybe...but..."

          "No. Just stay put. You're a damn good Adept, Mac. Maybe not with experience, but you know your shit when it comes to information and security. Tap the hotel's system. Ward your room. Leave your phone qued to the Correspondence Rote, in case you have to make a speedy get away. Keep your laserpointer by your bed and don't be afraid to use your ability in Matter. Take all the necessary precautions and we'll be watching the net on this end. We have people watching Mr. Calen's activities, just as there are people watching out for you. Or at least, Alan Cooper. Now," Trent paused and Mac was sure his mentor yawned. "Get some sleep. And tomorrow, I'll try to get back with you on this 'prep work' Miss Huang mentioned."

          That bit of information had nearly slipped Mac's thoughts. He groaned and lay back on the bed. It felt good...I can't lay here too long or I'll drift off. "That scares the hell out of me, Trent. I know this stuff - I know the specs. Just the optic takes time for the prepatory work. The installation should be done and ready in less than two days. There is no way..."

          "You're father is a Progenitor, Mac. There is no way to deny it. And you can't ignore the fact that Miss Huang might be right about you already possessing the prep work. Hell, Calen might be right. There may have been things done to you that you have no memory of. Though I'm more inclined to believe Calen was simply bullshitting you just to get a rise. Fits his profile."

          "Done...what to me?"

          Another pause. "Ever wondered about your headaches? How long have you had them?"

          "Ever since my awakening...that VR dream."

          "You can't deny the possibility that your parents enhanced your brain."

          "Trent, this is more like cyborg technology. My father is a Progenitor. He might have set up the marker changes, but not the hardwiring. That's what she's insinuating. I just know it."

          "Mac," Trent's voice was low. "The Progenitors work with Iteration-X. It's not farfetched. And my suggestion is this," Trent coughed. "Try and get to know this Mr. Calen. Find out if he has more knowledge of your father and your bio-profile from the Progenitor database. My initial reaction says he doesn't know a thing about the prep work. Syd's going to keep at it, though he's hit a brick wall. I know the kid'll keep trying to find it out for you. Just don't, under any circumstances, piss this man off. He's, as Syd says, a wild card. He likes stirring things up. Don't get the hornet mad, Mac."

          "Not.... my plan." Every thing he'd heard earlier now buzzed around in his head and the ever-present headache pounded against his temples, especially his left one. He couldn't stifle the yawn. "I'll keep my distance. I promise."

"Good. Now get some sleep, and don't you ever...under any circumstance...keep me waiting that long to hear from you. You do and I'll personally take a switch to you."

          Mac chuckled, the first he'd released from his stress-torn body in hours. "Oh no, you old queen, you'd like that too much."

          "Go to sleep, Mac. Please...stay safe."

          After hanging up, Mac lay on the bed. He needed to get up, maybe shower and slip into the sheets. He should shut the computer off; erase that damned file that glared back at him in the semi-darkness. But his muscles refused to move him, satisfied with the relaxation that crept through them.

          It was as his eldest brother Daniel used to say, "If you don't give your body the rest it needs, it will take it, Alan. And it will take it when it wants it."

          Exhaustion reached into his mind and shut his eyes...and took the sleep it demanded.

(partially written with Blake Sorenson)

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