((Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter; Cadnobach, Sara, Kiddo,
Teresa, Kas, and anyone else I missed. I'm trying my hardest to write this
story as it needs to be told, and I'm flattered you guys thing it's good
enough to continue.. This next week will be hectic, as I'm starting a new
job at the local theatre, so writing will be slow. And now for chapter
4....))
Chapter Four
~~~~~~~
"Dr. Kinkade?" Tim dropped his jaw and two of the bags. His eyes grew three sizes, then he burst out in all smiles of excitement. "Wow. Sir. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Sam's spoken a lot about you."
"Oh really?" He ruffled her hair. "Nothing good, I'm sure."
Tim laughed at the obvious joke.
"Dad," Samantha wined, pushing his hand away. "I'm not a kid."
Tim laughed--especially at the remarkable resemblance to the way Lucas argued his age. "I promised not tell." He looked back into the face of the archeologist. "I've read your papers and studied your work in Egypt. That discovery you made of the sunken ruins of Gargathi in the Mediterranean sea is absolutely astounding. And the excavation of a burial circle of priests of Amenhotep in the Valley of the Kings--I included that in a research paper."
Shawn chuckled. "Thank you, Mr..."
"O'Neill," Tim shifted the remaining two bags and extend an eager hand. Shawn took it with a quick vigorous shake "Lt. Tim O'Neill. Chief Communications officer onboard the SeaQuest DSV." Tim's stomach did a backflip.
"Fascinating. How many languages do you speak?"
"Six. I'm ok at a dozen more."
"Impressive."
Samantha glanced up at her father. "You didn't say anything about Marakuteta, the high priestess of Naunet."
Tim's eyes performed the impossible by widening further. "High Priestess?"
"Our latest discovery." Shawn gave Samantha a parental scolding look. "It was going to be revealed at the convention, but now, well you have a heads up, Mr. O'Neill." He added as he put a hand on his daughter's back. Samantha took a slight step away to the side, putting her hands in her pockets. Her father hardly noticed, but Tim's eyes shifted to her for a moment.
"The A.S is holding a banquette tonight," he said to Tim. "You and your friends are more than welcome to attend."
Tim practically beamed with pleasure so wide, it stuttered his words. "I'm...I'd...we'd be honored, Dr."
Shawn grinned at the man's excitement. It was always amusing to see people this enthralled with his work. That kind of attention had taken him a long time to get use to out of college. "It's at 8 in the Isis ballroom at the Grand Hotel. I'll leave a note with the desk clerk to expect you."
"Thank you. I'll let captain Bridger and the others know. It was a pleasure to Finally meet you, Dr. Kinkade," he smiled. With a nod, Tim regathered his things, a bit clumsy from the haste, and hauled them to the hotel shuttle.
What came next was all to familiar for Samantha. She recognized the inevitable step, exhaled irritably and glanced at her father with what should have been a normal annoyed expression. Instead the words came out sounding more tired than she'd expected. "I suppose you'll want me to find a dress now, huh."
* * * *
Paychecks are a grand thing. Especially when you get paid to do what you love. Lucas had one of these famed pieces of UEO issue paper now, and he fully intended on using it.
The cashier at the airport's StarBucks coffee stand was nice, though his English could have used some work. It took Lucas asking the man three times what he'd said, and finally figured out he'd been asked about whipped cream and cinnamon on his mocha. Lucas had accepted, taken the coffee, and went to the sitting area outside gate D to wait for his plane.
That was over an hour and a half ago.
He stretched, cracked his knuckles again for the umpteenth time, and picked up the napkin that had come with the coffee. On it was a mess of pen marks, lines, and numbers that to a trained eye was the outline of a mini-sub, but to the average layman, seemed nothing more than incomprehensible scribbles. He checked it over, redid the math for the propulsion systems in his head, and worked his brain around a name. The artistic area of anything had always been a few inches out of reach, leaving him with things called X-45, or Z9-12, but ever since Samantha had used his hands and mind to play the guitar, his naming system had changed.
Now that he looked at it from all angles--the shape, the design, the size--he could almost see his creation speeding through the water with untouchable grace. It pierced the blue, leaving behind a stinging wake....a stinging....sting...Stinger. Yea, that sounded right. He'd call it the Stinger.
It was so perfect that he grinned at his own ingenuity.
For the first time in hours, the young genius began to feel excited. He lost himself in the dream of the Stinger, seeing his name in 1st place on racing trophies, hearing the roar of the crowd as they cheered on the famous teenager who built the world's most advanced and coveted sub- fighter, and his parents beaming with pride at their son while Julianna covered his face in kisses.
Samantha would be jealous of the Stinger. Samantha.....why did she always invade his thoughts? He closed his eyes to it, focusing on the image of Julianna's kisses and grinned.
"Mr. Wolenczak?"
Lucas opened his eyes from his distraction and looked up at the deep voice of one of the Alexandria airport's attendants. He folded the napkin away.
"Mr. Lucas Wolenczak?" the man questioned again. He had dark hair and wore a crisp, a-line cut red tunic over a pair of black pressed trousers. Lucas glanced at the gold name tag pinned to his lapel that read 'R. Feringer.'
"Yea, that's me."
The attendant held out a small folded note to him. "This just came in for you."
Lucas took the note and thanked Mr. R. Feringer, then waited for him to leave before unfolding the paper. His blue eyes quickly scanned the words, yet despite the speed he still frowned before he'd finished reading.
~~~~~~
Lucas,
I'm afraid I won't be able to see you this time. There's been a minor explosion at World Power that's prevented anyone from coming or going until the radiation levels have dropped and the area has been cleared. There have been some minor injuries, but thankfully no fatalities. I'm sure you will understand that I couldn't risk you being exposed to the dangers here no matter how much I may need your help. No science experiment demands your life as a price to success. I'll contact the SeaQuest as soon as main power is back online. I know captain Bridger will find something for you to do.
Dad.
~~~~~~
All enthusiasm from the Stinger's discovery winked out like a candle.
Its replacement was the dark disappointment that usually followed a letter like this. With the nature of Lawrence Wolenczak's work, they came more often than not. Lucas understood that. He saw the logic in it, he read the meaning clearly and his right brain accepted it. Still, disappointment ignored logic. It saw yet another letter of rejection, another statement of abandonment to a world that couldn't ever see that emotion, and despite the knowledge that it wasn't his dad's fault, Lucas failed to stop it again.
"He'll never change," he grumbled angrily, then crumpled up the note and shoved it into his pants pocket. Four days in Egypt were now fully to himself with no plans, and no itinerary. What was he going to do with himself?
He slung the duffel over his shoulder and stalked away from gate D toward the front door. Calling Samantha crossed his mind, but he shook his head at that. She'd said she'd wanted time off, and both of them were getting irritated with finishing each other's sentences, so he resigned to asking captain Bridger if he could stay onboard the SeaQuest and help with repairs. Maybe he'd even start work on a prototype of the Stinger napkin design.
With this thought to blanket the let-down of his father's note, Lucas headed for the only place he knew he could go...
The Alexandria Grand Hotel.
Chapter Four
~~~~~~~
"Dr. Kinkade?" Tim dropped his jaw and two of the bags. His eyes grew three sizes, then he burst out in all smiles of excitement. "Wow. Sir. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Sam's spoken a lot about you."
"Oh really?" He ruffled her hair. "Nothing good, I'm sure."
Tim laughed at the obvious joke.
"Dad," Samantha wined, pushing his hand away. "I'm not a kid."
Tim laughed--especially at the remarkable resemblance to the way Lucas argued his age. "I promised not tell." He looked back into the face of the archeologist. "I've read your papers and studied your work in Egypt. That discovery you made of the sunken ruins of Gargathi in the Mediterranean sea is absolutely astounding. And the excavation of a burial circle of priests of Amenhotep in the Valley of the Kings--I included that in a research paper."
Shawn chuckled. "Thank you, Mr..."
"O'Neill," Tim shifted the remaining two bags and extend an eager hand. Shawn took it with a quick vigorous shake "Lt. Tim O'Neill. Chief Communications officer onboard the SeaQuest DSV." Tim's stomach did a backflip.
"Fascinating. How many languages do you speak?"
"Six. I'm ok at a dozen more."
"Impressive."
Samantha glanced up at her father. "You didn't say anything about Marakuteta, the high priestess of Naunet."
Tim's eyes performed the impossible by widening further. "High Priestess?"
"Our latest discovery." Shawn gave Samantha a parental scolding look. "It was going to be revealed at the convention, but now, well you have a heads up, Mr. O'Neill." He added as he put a hand on his daughter's back. Samantha took a slight step away to the side, putting her hands in her pockets. Her father hardly noticed, but Tim's eyes shifted to her for a moment.
"The A.S is holding a banquette tonight," he said to Tim. "You and your friends are more than welcome to attend."
Tim practically beamed with pleasure so wide, it stuttered his words. "I'm...I'd...we'd be honored, Dr."
Shawn grinned at the man's excitement. It was always amusing to see people this enthralled with his work. That kind of attention had taken him a long time to get use to out of college. "It's at 8 in the Isis ballroom at the Grand Hotel. I'll leave a note with the desk clerk to expect you."
"Thank you. I'll let captain Bridger and the others know. It was a pleasure to Finally meet you, Dr. Kinkade," he smiled. With a nod, Tim regathered his things, a bit clumsy from the haste, and hauled them to the hotel shuttle.
What came next was all to familiar for Samantha. She recognized the inevitable step, exhaled irritably and glanced at her father with what should have been a normal annoyed expression. Instead the words came out sounding more tired than she'd expected. "I suppose you'll want me to find a dress now, huh."
* * * *
Paychecks are a grand thing. Especially when you get paid to do what you love. Lucas had one of these famed pieces of UEO issue paper now, and he fully intended on using it.
The cashier at the airport's StarBucks coffee stand was nice, though his English could have used some work. It took Lucas asking the man three times what he'd said, and finally figured out he'd been asked about whipped cream and cinnamon on his mocha. Lucas had accepted, taken the coffee, and went to the sitting area outside gate D to wait for his plane.
That was over an hour and a half ago.
He stretched, cracked his knuckles again for the umpteenth time, and picked up the napkin that had come with the coffee. On it was a mess of pen marks, lines, and numbers that to a trained eye was the outline of a mini-sub, but to the average layman, seemed nothing more than incomprehensible scribbles. He checked it over, redid the math for the propulsion systems in his head, and worked his brain around a name. The artistic area of anything had always been a few inches out of reach, leaving him with things called X-45, or Z9-12, but ever since Samantha had used his hands and mind to play the guitar, his naming system had changed.
Now that he looked at it from all angles--the shape, the design, the size--he could almost see his creation speeding through the water with untouchable grace. It pierced the blue, leaving behind a stinging wake....a stinging....sting...Stinger. Yea, that sounded right. He'd call it the Stinger.
It was so perfect that he grinned at his own ingenuity.
For the first time in hours, the young genius began to feel excited. He lost himself in the dream of the Stinger, seeing his name in 1st place on racing trophies, hearing the roar of the crowd as they cheered on the famous teenager who built the world's most advanced and coveted sub- fighter, and his parents beaming with pride at their son while Julianna covered his face in kisses.
Samantha would be jealous of the Stinger. Samantha.....why did she always invade his thoughts? He closed his eyes to it, focusing on the image of Julianna's kisses and grinned.
"Mr. Wolenczak?"
Lucas opened his eyes from his distraction and looked up at the deep voice of one of the Alexandria airport's attendants. He folded the napkin away.
"Mr. Lucas Wolenczak?" the man questioned again. He had dark hair and wore a crisp, a-line cut red tunic over a pair of black pressed trousers. Lucas glanced at the gold name tag pinned to his lapel that read 'R. Feringer.'
"Yea, that's me."
The attendant held out a small folded note to him. "This just came in for you."
Lucas took the note and thanked Mr. R. Feringer, then waited for him to leave before unfolding the paper. His blue eyes quickly scanned the words, yet despite the speed he still frowned before he'd finished reading.
~~~~~~
Lucas,
I'm afraid I won't be able to see you this time. There's been a minor explosion at World Power that's prevented anyone from coming or going until the radiation levels have dropped and the area has been cleared. There have been some minor injuries, but thankfully no fatalities. I'm sure you will understand that I couldn't risk you being exposed to the dangers here no matter how much I may need your help. No science experiment demands your life as a price to success. I'll contact the SeaQuest as soon as main power is back online. I know captain Bridger will find something for you to do.
Dad.
~~~~~~
All enthusiasm from the Stinger's discovery winked out like a candle.
Its replacement was the dark disappointment that usually followed a letter like this. With the nature of Lawrence Wolenczak's work, they came more often than not. Lucas understood that. He saw the logic in it, he read the meaning clearly and his right brain accepted it. Still, disappointment ignored logic. It saw yet another letter of rejection, another statement of abandonment to a world that couldn't ever see that emotion, and despite the knowledge that it wasn't his dad's fault, Lucas failed to stop it again.
"He'll never change," he grumbled angrily, then crumpled up the note and shoved it into his pants pocket. Four days in Egypt were now fully to himself with no plans, and no itinerary. What was he going to do with himself?
He slung the duffel over his shoulder and stalked away from gate D toward the front door. Calling Samantha crossed his mind, but he shook his head at that. She'd said she'd wanted time off, and both of them were getting irritated with finishing each other's sentences, so he resigned to asking captain Bridger if he could stay onboard the SeaQuest and help with repairs. Maybe he'd even start work on a prototype of the Stinger napkin design.
With this thought to blanket the let-down of his father's note, Lucas headed for the only place he knew he could go...
The Alexandria Grand Hotel.