The Lair

By the time Alex arrived, Andrew was deep in the throes of an epic battle if his expressions were anything to go by. She watched closely as Andrew engaged the Foundation's intrusion detection systems in a virtual encounter. Over three monitors and two consoles the battle raged. One would believe such a distant exchange would be cold and sterile but the perspiration beading Andrew's forehead, his narrowed eyes, hunched shoulders, flying fingers and rare oaths told a different story.

Lines of programmatic code scrolled endlessly on one monitor. Sometimes a line would be highlighted in red and the scrolling automatically stopped until Andrew had had a chance to glance at the red section and restart the scrolling. On another monitor a graphical display of the Foundation's systems and sub-systems shifted and tilted mirroring the sections pertinent to the scrolling display. Andrew's gaze stayed mostly on the center display where he was executing his battle maneuvers as it were.

As Alex had promised Anna, she studied Andrew's general wellbeing. She had to agree that Anna had cause for concern. Where Andrew had always been skinny, he was now nearly gaunt. There were bags under his eyes. His skin was too pale. His very appearance was abnormal. While Andrew had no use for fashion, he had always been meticulous about the fit and tidiness of his clothes. Alex noted the coffee stain on one of the rolled up cuffs and his generally rumpled look. Granted, he had slept in the same clothes but she knew Andrew's preference for a certain formality in dress. He had never looked as unkempt as he did now.

Suddenly, Andrew leaned back, stretched his long arms high into the air and let out a very satisfied yell followed by two words - "Got you!"

"You're in?" asked Alex.

"Better than in," answered Andrew. "In due course, we shall have nearly every bit and byte of data the Foundation has."

"How is that possible?"

"Their systems are doing an emergency backup procedure. It's copying the most recent data to another location. But whoever wrote this program is very thorough, very lazy or incompetent," said Andrew. "Instead of simply taking files revised since the last backup, it's examining every file matching up whether there's a copy at the other location. I've managed to insert a tiny program that acts like a mirror. Every file that is examined by the first program has to pass through a … a tunnel, let's say. I've installed a mirror that copies everything that passes through without interfering with the original transaction."

"Someone has to notice though," said Alex.

"The copy procedure is done as a background process. It takes a few seconds per document. To the human eye, things look normal."

"And the non-human eyes?" asked Alex.

"Are too busy coping with a disaster scenario to bother with a few lagging seconds. And, with all the system activity, the extra processing power my construct is using will go unnoticed."

"Where are you copying the data to? Here? SIMON?"

"Ah, no, that would be too obvious and too easily detected. I'm copying at the other end - the second location whose security protocols are not as stringent. I'm copying in tiny, encrypted bursts that seem like typical system logs and such. Should anyone take a look, it would seem like any other innocuous system file," said Andrew. "Simon is then copying the data from the second location to here via a different protocol."

"They detected the previous intrusion and surely they will notice this one."

"Based on the level of activity there, I very much doubt it. The backup involved an enormous quantity of information." Andrew pointed at the display where a large number of gigabytes made Alex pause. "The technicians would have started the procedure, made certain it was functional at both ends then went off to do something else. This operation will take several hours based on this data quantity and processing. Again, if they wanted true efficiency, then they would have had nightly offsite backups and then had a backup program that only verified what it had to."

"You seem rather proud of yourself."

"I know what I can do. Then there's the thrill of winning. I like to win."

Alex laughed. "I think you get that from Robert more than Anna."

Andrew smiled. "That's what he says. Although Mum can be competitive in her own way."

"In what way?"

"Motherish ways," said Andrew. He crossed his arms and pouted. "She notices everything. Everything wrong. My hair is too long. I look tired. Am I popular? Would I like to meet more people my age?"

"She IS your mother," said Alex. "She's making up for lost time."

"I suppose I must indulge her as Father does."

"You must. Consider it the duty of any offspring. She's immensely and rightfully proud of all her children. She only wants the best for you, Andrew," said Alex. "I am curious about something. May I ask a personal question?"

"Ask away."

"What's going on with you? Don't bother denying it. I look at you with the eyes of a doctor and I KNOW there's something wrong. Tell me and it won't go further than between us." Alex gazed expectantly at her nephew. In some ways, he was even more guarded than Anna. He had many layers and each one could be booby-trapped. She planned to tread carefully.

Andrew sighed. "I'm tired. That's all."

"I agree. However, there's must be a cause for your excessive weariness. What is it?"

"You won't tell Mum?"

Alex crossed her heart with her index finger and said. "Promise."

"You WILL tell her. How can you not? Or she'll get it out of you by hook or by crook."

"That is a possibility."

"If Mum starts hovering around me again, I shall know you've told her."

"Warning received. Stop dallying and tell me. Or I WILL tell Anna my suspicions and you will have to deal with her motherish ways. What shall it be?"

"I admit that I haven't felt quite myself for some time. However, it's not any cause for concern."

Alex began to count on her fingers. "You've lost weight. Your obsessive tendencies have taken an extreme turn toward fanaticism. You've isolated yourself. You're locked in here most of the day and night. You eat alone and are rarely in the dining room with the rest of us. Need I go on?"

"Normal fatigue. I've been doing an … an enormous quantity of research."

"For Robin and Eve?"

"Yes. One thing leads here and another leads there. I can't ignore tangents and potentially good data when we knew so little at the time," said Andrew.

"I sense that there is more behind your decisions, Andrew. For example, the preparations for Emma's, um, whatsit?"

"The Emma Merriment Zone or EMZ," said Andrew.

"Yes, that's it. Did you not step above normal and into obsession just a little?"

"No. A child's psyche is a fragile thing. A baby feels and senses far more that we realize. All the research says so. She was my responsibility. I had to do things right."

Andrew's emphatic response surprised Alex. "Research?"

"J-j-just some d-d-data on early, um, childhood de-dev-development," stammered Andrew.

"And this research says it's proper to literally surround the baby with all kinds of tactile and visual sensory stimuli and have scheduled playtime where said baby could be exposed to the stimuli in a rather regimented fashion?"

"Babies like bright and happy colors and sounds. They like to feel soft and smooth fabrics. It adds to an instinctive sense of security and contentment. Sensory input is essential to the brain developing normally and without positive sensory input and recognition in the earliest months … well, it's essential."

"What research is this? Before Vik was born, I read everything I could and this does not sound familiar. Where did you read this?"

Like Anna, Andrew was a bad liar, at least to those to whom he was closest to. "A … a citation … somewhere."

Alex stared at Andrew knowing full well that she could wait him out if necessary.

"It's a private library source of … of experiments," said Andrew.

"On children?" asked Alex.

"One of my archival sources is a … a medical collections of sorts. It goes back generations." Andrew's brows furrowed. "The headache is back. I … I need to get some air."

"Migraine? Tylenol?"

"Let me take a walk. I'll be fine. I just need a-" Andrew's fingers twitched. He reached for a desk drawer then stopped and placed his hand on his lap. "Cold, fresh air t-t-to clear my mind."

"Your face is flushed. Your neck is stiff. You are far from fine," Alex said. "Come to the lab with me. How long have you been having these headaches?"

"Since before we went to the resort but they've never been this bad," said Andrew. "Or this frequent. I need a walk. This job will run for another hour at least." Andrew stood and swayed.

Alex grabbed Andrew's arm to steady him. "We are heading for the lab to check you out thoroughly."

Andrew shook her hand off. "I know what I need. I've been working too much, too long, too much stress."

"And too little sleep," suggested Alex.

"Leave me alone!" yelled Andrew. "You're not my mother!"

Alex was taken aback by his outburst. "Andrew?"

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for," said Andrew. He stood to his full height and walked away towards the stalls where the tall, cylindrical servers stood like sentries. His shoulders and back seemed bowed as if from some great weight. "Please, just leave."

"Something is bothering you and it's not just physical is it?" asked Alex shrewdly.

"This is MY problem and I have to deal with it," said Andrew quietly. "I need time to process things internally. I need t-time and p-p-peace. Now is NOT the time to ... to be indulgent. I have to find my sister and assure Emma's security and happiness."

Alex tried to find some mental footing in a conversation that she sensed was leading simultaneously into three different directions. "Andrew, you have a family now. You're not alone. You don't have to face your problems alone."

"I've dealt with it. I've cut him off. End of problem."

"Faison?"

"I've been blind all my life. I never knew or even suspected what he was capable of," said Andrew. "I chose to believe that he took care of another man's child out of loyalty, love and honor. He's not that man. I have to truly accept that. I … I m-m-must not doubt … ever."

"You've always said that Faison was not a saint."

"Oh, I've called him many, many names in the last few days." Andrew turned to face Alex fully. "I thought I had come to terms with his place in my life. I've cut him off save for the absolute tiniest amount of contact required. I've made known to him that I reject his way of life. I reject him and his plans for me."

"Plans?"

"Unimportant now. I'm not … won't follow the path he wants me to. He knows it. It was important that … that I told him face to face," said Andrew. "Despite all that, I always thought there was still a … a decent part of him, deep inside. After all he looked after me. He loved me. He could not be evil but … but the p-p-proof is so … so damning. All the people he's hurt or caused to be hurt. I can't ignore them." Andrew nearly ran to the wall. He laid the side of his face against its icy surface. "That feels good."

"We need to get you to the hospital. This can't be normal."

Andrew chuckled. "I'm not normal. I'm a freak. The product of generations of monsters. Everyone is s-sc-scared of me or f-f-for me."

"You're not any of those things," said Alex. Very slowly and gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but did not shake her off. "I know you're not."

"You don't know me very well then," said Andrew.

"And you don't know how stubborn I can be," said Alex. "If you don't want to involve Anna and Robert, then-"

"They've done so much for me. They can't afford distractions when they have to concentrate on Robin."

"When it comes to children, parents can't do enough. The same goes for aunts, Andrew," said Alex.

Andrew brought his hand to his mouth. "The nausea is starting. I hate to vomit. It's so messy."

"Then stop right now."

"Truth m-m-must come out or ... or I'll explode. That WOULD be ... messy," said Andrew with a half smile. He swallowed and then continued. "Earlier, you asked where … where I read about the effects of sensory deprivation on babies?"

"What?" exclaimed Alex caught by surprise.

"That wasn't what it was called then but it is what it was," said Andrew. "Emil Krieg's father was a … a physician working for Germany during the war. His particular speciality was children. He had a way with them. It's all there in the collection. Every detail recorded in his journals. How women were forced or coerced to become pregnant so their babies could be … harvested. They wanted to test the extremes that a human being could survive you see."

Alex could feel the bile rising up her throat. "You don't have to do this. Not like this."

"I must. I feel … like … this is the only time … way I can. Every day it becomes h-h-harder to fight back, to resist. If grandpere were here, I c-c-could have told him," gasped Andrew as another wave of pain swamped his mind. "Something a-a-about a sh-shared burden. F-f-family, you said. Right?"

"Go on then," said Alex.

"When I learned about the Kriegs, I started my research. The collection was something I had always had access to. It was my teaching place when I was little. H-h-how I ... I went to school. Some areas were restricted but the security controls were easy enough to bypass," explained Andrew. "I found ... the journals, the p-p-papers that were never published, the research notes. Everything the Kriegs had gleaned from their ... noble works. The more I read the m-m-more I wanted to know. It was horrible yet oddly fascinating. How is THAT normal?"

"You're naturally curious. Nothing more."

"They learned how to ... to condition children to certain p-p-patterns of desired b-b-behavior without u-u-using force. Early indoctrination, reinforcement of ideals." Andrew's jaw clenched then unclenched. "I remembered drinking poisons so that I would build immunity."

"Based on your idiosyncratic reaction to the carbon disulfide, that did seem a likely fact," said Alex.

"He said it was med-medicine because I was s-s-sick all the time," said Andrew. "But he MADE me sick on purpose. I ... I found out why. In the collection, there w-w-were cases of ch-children who were sickened to lower their natural defenses and make them dependent and ... and docile. It allowed them to … to control ALL aspects of development - mental, emotional and physical - de-cellerate or accelerate as they wanted. They tried so many tests. The … the children were d-d-discarded afterwards to live or die on their own. Barbaric."

"Faison tried to make you in someone you're not? My mother tried the same on me," said Alex. "She tried to turn me into Anna. I understand, Andrew."

"He succeeded, I think," said Andrew. He pressed even closer against the wall. Alex felt his forehead and neck. He was hot to the touch. "I printed the notes and journal. I've read and read them. That's why I'm not normal. Never will be."

"You have wonderful gifts and talents that are your own. You are your own person. Never -"

"So tired," interrupted Andrew.

"Lie down on the sofa over here."

"No, must check on the job. Must be re-re-responsible. Good little boy."

Alex stayed behind Andrew as he walked shakily back to his desk. She knew she ought to call for help but she did not want to spoil their current rapport. She had to keep him talking. "Well, you can sleep after you check the job."

Andrew sank into his chair. "Mustn't sleep. Lose control."

"Lose control of what?"

"I have had bad dreams since I was small," said Andrew. "One day I may not w-wake up. Lost in a dream." He blinked and then looked directly at his aunt. "Please, don't leave. Mustn't be alone."

"I won't leave. I'll be right here," said Alex gently. "What else do you want to tell me?"

"So tired of fighting," said Andrew.

"Fighting what? Who?"

"Conditioning. What he did to me over time. Documented in the collection," said Andrew. "I want to stop c-c-caring about him but I can't. He won't let me go. I can't ... can't let Father kill him. He will when he finds out ... b-b-because you'll tell them. Mum will blame herself. All my fault 'cause I'm weak. I need to be stronger."

"They should know."

"I can beat this. I just need time and ... and peace," said Andrew. "Mind over mind. Willpower."

"We'll get specialists, anyone and anything to treat you. Any kind of mental programming can be changed."

"Can't help me. I'm c-c-conditioned this way. I must change myself," said Andrew. Then his voice grew strained. "Have to try."

Alex ordered Simon to turn the lights on to full illumination. She examined Andrew's face, eyes and reactions. Everything was off. His reactions were slower than they should be. His eyes were dilated for no apparent reason. His thinking normally so sharp seemed muddled and conflicted. There was a scent on his breath that she found familiar but identification eluded her.

"Andrew, have you taken something? Medicine?"

"No. Muddles my thinking. Have to think my way out of this mess. So tired," said Andrew. "I ... I think I know where Robin is or was."

Alex began a cursory exam. She touched his forehead. It was now clammy and cold. "You do?"

"I followed the trail in the c-c-collection far enough b-b-before I was stopped."

"Whatever it is, we need to tell Robert and Anna."

Andrew nodded then shook his head. "No. He'll break the deal. That ... that can't happen. I have to make sure."

"Deal?"

"Father promised not to kill Papa in my lifetime," said Andrew. He took some deep breaths and flexed his shoulders. "A nearly iron-clad deal I thought."

"It sounds like it." Alex noticed that Andrew's eyes had brightened. He sat straighter in the chair. "You're not stuttering. Headache fading?"

"What headache?" grinned Andrew.

"I was taught by a master of the fine print."

"Faison?"

"Yes."

"At least he did do one good thing by you."

Andrew's voice seemed to change in mid-syllable. "I was taught a lot of things you know."

Alex forced herself to stay calm even as her instincts told her to flee. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. "Andrew, you're right. You've worked so hard. You're tired. We can talk more upstairs or in my lab. Let me get someone."

Andrew began to say something then grimaced as if in pain. Various expressions contorted his features.

Alex knew well enough the signs of distress. She looked around for a panic button, an intercom, anything. "SIMON! I need Control! Anna! Robert! Any-"

She never saw it coming.

Pain lanced across her midsection. Her jaw exploded into pain. The pain awakened a deep-seated instinct to survive. Images of Dimitri and little Vik danced across her hazy mind as she fell to her knees.

Giles' voice sounded over the speakers. "Control here. Something the matter, Andrew?"

Andrew stood up. He rolled his neck around one full circle then flexed his arms and shoulders. He did not spare her a single glance. "Everything is fine. I'm running a simulation test." He cut the connection abruptly.

"Andrew, please," gasped Alex gripping her sides. "You need help."

"I don't need to be told what to do. To … to question … what I … I know is right." Andrew looked up. "SIMON, lock the Lair. No one passes." Absently, he rubbed at his temples as if trying to rid himself of some irritating condition.

Alex would not give up. She rose to her knees. "You're tired. Need … rest."

"No. I'm fine. Just fine," said Andrew. "Simon has found home. Run home, Simon, run, run, run."

"You … are … NOT … fine," gasped Alex.

Andrew backhanded Alex hard across the face. She fell to her side with a small whimper. "Enough! No more! I WILL NOT listen to anyone trying to turn me." He circled her. "So insidious. So sly. A word here. A word there."

"What .. word … words?" said Alex between breaths. She had to keep him talking. Perhaps find out the reason for his odd behavior.

"Faison is a bad man. Faison is evil. A monster," said Andrew. "Scorpio can say those things because he must. I ignore him. But you and the others try to sway me. To make me think ill of MY father."

"No, we didn't. We just -"

"Bad, bad people! No one should ever turn a son from his father," said Andrew. "Weeks and weeks I've listened. I've researched. You all forced me to. It wasn't me. I didn't want to." Andrew paused. His face scrunched up in pain again. His voice changed to something close to his normal voice. "The truth is … is best. No more lies."

"I can't … I won't listen to lies about Papa. No more!" Andrew stood breathing rapidly. "He's a good man. The things I've … I've found out are lies and fabrications." Andrew stiffened. His face became anguished. He said, "Sorry … Alex. I don't … fighting. Can't stop myself."

Alex lunged at Andrew catching him unaware and vulnerable. For good measure, she decked him with a left cross to the jaw and followed up with a knee to his groin. Andrew doubled over and crashed to his knees.

"Simon, get Control. Medical emergency!" Alex fingered the bruise that she could feel forming on her chin. "Dimitri is not going to be happy with you, Andrew. I can't even guess what your parents are going to make of this."

Giles' voice came over the speakers once more. "Alex, the Lair is locked. Anna and Robert are on their way to override the lock. How bad is it?"

"Have a stretcher and … and restraints," instructed Alex.

"Same as in the hospital?" came Giles' hesitant question.

"I don't believe so. He's entirely sane this time. How recovered are you from your injuries?"

"Not nearly enough," admitted Giles. "Reinforcements coming."

"Damn!" exclaimed Alex as she wiped at blood on her lips.

"Come again. Repeat, Alex."

Alex checked her jaw and teeth carefully. "Loose tooth. Know a good dentist?" She heard the footsteps running down the stairs. She glanced at Andrew squirming on the floor. "I'm sorry, Andrew. They have to know. Everything."