The quiet hum of air conditioning was the only sound in the room, punctuated every now and then by a tap, when either one of the two people comfortably seated in their chairs touched a key on their datapads. Both were totally immersed in what they were reading, settled in a companionable silence. Suddenly André raised his head and smiled a little absently, attracting Rori's attention.

"Terry's coming, and he's found out something," he said. "About Salvador. He wants to tell both of us at the same time."

"I really appreciate that," Rori commented and pushed his stack of notes aside. "I have something to talk about, too. We'd better – ah, there you are!"

Terry emerged through the door like a whirlwind clasping something secretively in his hand.

"I've made progress," he announced somewhat unnecessarily. "Really interesting progress."

"Take a seat," Rori said and Terry plopped his lanky body into a free chair. "Well, aren't you flustered! Shall we take a look at where we stand? And stop looking so smug, Terry!"

"Stop feeling so smug," André added with a grin. "That's absolutely unbearable, you know! I get the feeling that I'm being kept in the dark here."

"You were studying," Terry retorted. "But yeah, I am flustered. And I definitely want to talk with you. Who's going to start – Rori?"

"I might," Rori nodded. "I've been through all this information concerning Adrien, and there's no escaping it. They did have a second priming/wiping unit on Jehan at the time. An experimental, lightweight model. They were going to test it for the first time on him, being so close at hand and easily recalled if necessary. But as we know, things turned out rather differently."

"Any information about the equipment after that?" André inquired.

"Some. The mission was cancelled, because the Union wasn't sure what exactly had happened to Adrien and his guardian, and they needed to investigate it thoroughly," Rori said. "Obviously then you, Terry, were sent over some time later to accomplish the mission Adrien was supposed to take."

Terry nodded with a frown. "Yeah, so I gathered too. And that was my last mission before you came."

"Yes. But the crux of it is that between Adrien's disappearance and your mission, the experimental equipment was brought here." Rori studied his datapad for a while, searched for something and sighed. "But for some reason they decided to use the old method and equipment on you after all. My guess is that at the time you were sent out, the second unit was not fully operational, because the data says it was modified and then shipped away."

"Where?" André asked.

"No information," Rori said unhappily. "There's just references to a fellow 'team', it doesn't say anything about its exact destination."

"So we have no way of knowing its current whereabouts," André concluded. "How nice. And you got the M-clones' report, didn't you? What did it say?"

"The data was too scanty to say anything decisive." Rori chewed on his lower lip. "It mainly listed the modifications made, very little about the original design. Of course the M's were able to figure out something, sort of working backwards from the changes, but nothing too useful."

"Pity," André sighed. "Well, it was a feeble clue, but anything we have is worth looking at."

They all fell silent, eyes turning involuntarily towards the large wall screen that showed the quiet interior of the room next door. Curtains by the window, a couple of chairs, a cozy-looking bed, and a silent figure resting on it. Salvador's eyes were closed, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he was still alive. Rori felt a distinct spillover of the two T-clones' emotions, the suffocating mixture of compassion and desperation that welled inside and between them. André's hand balled into a fist by his side.

"We must find a way to help him," he whispered. "It's breaking my heart to see him like that."

"He hasn't been getting any better," Rori agreed. "Not really worse, either, but he's stalling..."

"What do you think is the problem, Rori?" Terry asked and tore his gaze forcibly away from the screen. "I know you have a theory, so spill it!"

"Yes, I think I might have an idea," Rori admitted. "The M's report contained one detail that might be useful. They stated that the second unit is probably far less powerful than the one we have here. Which might translate as 'less efficient', I think."

"Go on," André urged. "That made you think of something."

"Well, we must assume that Salvador's been wiped and then primed again using this lower-power unit." Rori pressed his fingertips together. "What's the result? He doesn't remember his previous mission, nor does he remember the things primed into him! The only things he does remember are what he's experienced himself over the past few months. You've tried to coax some memories out of him, but it hasn't worked. Only his first-hand experiences are there, and such a pity that the majority of those are very negative."

"All right, if we accept that theory, then I have the next question right away," Terry said. "Why was he sent out to this mission at all? Wouldn't it have been obvious that he wasn't going to make it?"

"Not necessarily," Rori countered. "What if it looked like a success to start with? What if Calvin took him along, firmly believing that he was going to do his part, and realized only later on that everything was not as it should?"

"I see!" André shot up in his chair. "You mean that the data only went into his short-term memory, instead of the long-term layer as it should?"

Rori made a face at him. "You snitched that from my head, I felt you!" he accused. "But yes, I think that's exactly what happened. At first it seemed the priming had succeeded all right, and the flaws only appeared gradually, when his short-term memory began to fade. Remember, he didn't even have any chance to refresh those supposed 'memories' by applying them until much after the priming, when Orcagna finally reached TerraFour."

"That makes an awful lot of sense," Terry admitted. "Especially considering this huge gap in his long-term memory... they've taken everything out and put nothing to replace it. Bastards!"

"Just occurred to me – what if everything's not lost after all?" André said thoughtfully. "What if there's still something left, something he can't access except in bits and pieces. I mean, if only we could find out what this 'Troy' means... Terry! Spill it out this instant or I'll think of something horrible!"

Terry grinned and held a small something against his chest.

"I think I might've found it," he declared proudly. "And you just might be right, brother dear, perhaps everything isn't irrevocably lost. Maybe we'd just need to find the way to help him access those lost memories."

"What's that?" Rori asked, interested, but Terry's hand remained firmly on the little flat thing.

"This is something I've found," he said and shook his head. "No, André, you're not going to pry it from me so stop prodding, you won't get through! I want to tell so that Rori hears it too."

"All right," André sighed and leaned back in his chair. Terry nodded to him approvingly.

"So. I went through all the data from mission Benedict Duchamp, and boy was there a lot of it! It even looks like they haven't stored all of it here, only the parts that seemed worthwhile... but there was a name. A fellow student with whom Benedict had made friends – Troyen Leboyer."

"Troyen... yes, it sounds good," Rori said. "Did you find out anything else?"

"In fact I did," Terry said even more smugly. "I checked it out with Tabaimo University, and yes, there's a physics student of that name. In the same class where Benedict had been, and by the way, I even found out the date when Benedict had quit his studies and transferred to another university. A cross-check there proved that he'd never shown up, of course. But here, look at this."

He finally produced the small thing he'd been holding all the while and turned it around. It was a picture of a young man with nearly black hair and dark eyes.

"Let me introduce to you: Troyen Leboyer."

André and Rori leaned closer to look at the picture. Serious brown eyes stared back at them from the printout.

"What're you going to do now?" André asked breathlessly. "Show that to Salvador?"

"Definitely," Terry nodded. "Unless you object terribly."

"Oh, I think it's definitely worth a try!" Rori said decisively. "We know already that his memory's in shatters, that he doesn't respond to the usual stimuli. That picture just might do – something."

"I wish we could find a way to tell him that he's a T-clone," André mused sadly. "We might be able to help him if we could break it to him... but he's absolutely terrified each time I try to reach him mentally, no matter how careful I'm trying to be. Yes, I agree absolutely. We must show that to him."

"Shall we try it right now?" Terry asked and stood up. "I'm ready. Will you watch, or are you coming with me?"

"We'll stay here," Rori decided, "we're next door anyway just in case."

Terry nodded and stepped to the door, and Rori turned to look once more at the screen. André, too excited to stay in one place, jumped on his feet and sat on the edge of a table, nervously fingering his thick braid.

They hardly remembered to breathe when Terry's image appeared on the screen and smiled to the quiet figure on the bed.

"Hello, Salvador!" Terry said softly.

The other clone opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times.

"Hello... Terry," he replied quietly.

Terry knew better than to expect anything more; Salvador never spoke much, and he was happy to have got any response. He stepped next to the bed and sat down on it, fighting to keep the painful ache inside him at bay. The lifeless look of those sky-blue eyes was nearly too much for him, every time.

"I would like to show you something," he said. "Would you sit up, please?"

Salvador obeyed, pushed himself up on the bed without a word and let his arms fall in his lap. Terry couldn't resist the urge, his hand rose automatically to brush aside a longer bang that threatened to get entangled with his fellow clone's long lashes. Salvador didn't cringe, in fact he pressed a little into the touch, and Terry smiled.

"I have a picture here," he said and clamped firmly any and all thoughts into their proper places. He didn't want to spoil the moment with spillovers. "Would you take a look at it?"

He presented the picture to Salvador, hoping for a reaction – and he got it. Salvador's eyes snapped wide open, he gasped and snatched the picture with the speed of an attacking snake, a fraction of a second before it fell out of Terry's fingers that were struck limp by a flash of emotions – wonder, joy, sadness and possessiveness.

Terry was fighting for breath, totally taken aback by such a reaction from the so far unresponsive clone, and from the touch in his consciousness he knew that André had also been hit hard by it. Salvador was sitting bolt upright, staring at the picture he was holding with both hands. He was panting, cheeks flushed red.

"Troy," he whispered incredulously. "Troy..."

His hands began to shake and Terry touched his arm reassuringly.

"So you know him?"

"Yes! This is Troy!" Salvador turned to look at him with an expression of mingled wonder, gratitude and despair. "Have you found him?"

"Not yet," Terry admitted, hating himself when he saw how Salvador's face fell at the news. "But we know now where he is. We'll find him, I promise you that."

"Where is he?" Salvador's gaze returned to the picture and he swept a caressing finger over it.

"On Tabaimo," Terry said. Salvador's eyebrows drew together, then he nodded.

"Yes, Tabaimo. Troy is from Tabaimo."

In the adjoining room, André's fingers were holding Rori's arm so tightly that the dark man would have winced, if he hadn't been too engrossed with the amazing scene unfolding on the screen in front of them.

Salvador was still holding the picture like a holy object, lips moving quietly. A tear rolled down his cheek, Terry reached out to wipe it off but Salvador, mistaking the gesture, clasped the picture against his chest and shook his head vehemently.

"I'm not going to take it away from you," Terry murmured pulling his hand back. "You can keep it, Sal. Everything's going to be all right."

"Who will go to find Troy?" Salvador asked suddenly. "Is Juri going?"

"He can't, he must travel elsewhere," Terry said. "But one of us will go anyway. Why?"

"Tell Troy that I'm sorry." Salvador's voice faltered and he clutched the picture tighter. "I'm so sorry. But I didn't do it, I swear!"

"Do what?"

Salvador closed his eyes, face distorting with unmistakable pain. "I... can't remember!" he whispered hoarsely. "But I didn't do it. I didn't!"

"He will understand," Terry said, putting as much reassurance and compassion into the words as he could without actually pushing the thoughts to Salvador. "I'm sure he will. Don't worry."

When he returned to the other room, André was nearly jumping up and down, barely able to contain himself until the door was firmly closed again.

"Bingo! Hole in one! Oh my god, I can't believe this!"

"Now it's settled," Rori said, only marginally more controlled than his partner, and took one more look at the screen. Salvador was still cradling the picture in his hands, like a child whose favorite plush toy has been lost and found again. Rori shook his head and swallowed the clump from his throat. "This shows that our theory looks rather good. He does have those long-term memories from the previous mission still locked up inside him."

"Yes, and by now I'm convinced that there's only one way to unlock them," Terry said firmly. "We have to find Troy and ask for his help. He's the only one who can do it."

André nodded energetically. "I agree. I mean, what haven't we tried yet? Everything! And nothing has worked. Then you show him a mere picture of Troy, and bang – we get a whole lot more things. That Troy is from Tabaimo, that they've obviously had some kind of disagreement, that Troy thinks Sal has done something –"

"Bad, I'm assuming," Rori interjected.

"Yes, and that Sal hasn't done it," André concluded. "Oh boy, looks like this one memory is the key to more."

"But what're we going to do?" Terry asked reasonably. "I mean, if they have parted as less than friends, Troy might not be too keen to help."

"That's something we have to take into account," Rori conceded unhappily. "In any case we could perhaps at least contact him and ask him to tell what's happened. He's probably the only one who can give us a clue why these past things bother Sal so much, enough to force their way out of his destroyed memory."

"Juri would be the obvious choice," André mused, "except that he'll be leaving in a few days. Didn't he say last night that they already have a new mission waiting for him?"

"He did," Terry nodded. "So he can't be the one. I will go."

"You?" Rori cried. "Sorry, Terry, but don't get silly ideas. You're a T-clone, and even if Jainah is now independent, let me remind you that there are still loads of Union people out there! The Commanders will never let you go."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Terry said and folded his arms on his chest. He shot a slanted look at André who started and stared at him, mouth open.

"You're not going to do that," he stated decisively.

"Oh, I'm not? I think that's exactly what I'll do!" Terry cocked his head challengingly.

"No, no no, you can't be serious!" André took a deep breath. "How can you be sure you'll manage to pull that stunt long enough? It's way too dangerous, Terry. Besides, you won't be able to convince Arria to let you go."

"Exactly what're you two talking about?" Rori asked, alarmed. "Listen, I won't allow you to start playing any mind tricks on the Commanders, even if you're able to, and frankly I'd much appreciate knowing if you really are! That would only cause distrust –"

"Don't jump into conclusions, Rori!" Terry said and turned to look at him. "Firstly, we're not going to play any mind tricks the Commanders wouldn't know about. Secondly, we'd never betray anyone's trust in us. No, I'm merely going to show Arria something that'd better convince him. I want to be the one to go looking for Troy."

"What's this something you're going to show?" Rori's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "André, you know what he's talking about. Have you two been up to something behind my back?"

"Sort of," André admitted. "We've been experimenting with a few things that we remember doing when we were kids..."

"Such as?" Rori put his hands on hips and frowned threateningly.

"Such as something I did, quite instinctively, when we were attacking the base. Remember the way we gained access to this building?"

Rori squinted in thought. "You... you did something, and then there was this Union guy who sounded like you had been yelling at him about opening the door... What was it?"

"I lashed out, in a way," André explained. "Forced him to come and open it. It seems that I'm the best one of us in that kind of thing. And Terry can do... other things."

Rori rolled his eyes.

"Any chance of me hearing what these 'other things' actually are?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not hear," Terry said. "Look at me, Rori. Watch me hard."

Rori looked, and then he sank into a chair struggling for breath. He saw Terry, except that it wasn't Terry. His shape went fluid, then morphed gently and he saw Fonzo standing in the middle of the room, in exactly the same position as Terry had assumed.

"Well?" Even the voice was Fonzo's comfortable bass.

Rori closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again, but Fonzo was still there. He pushed himself on shaking legs, took the few steps separating him from the apparition, reached out a hand to touch the man. He felt hard, bulging muscle and heard a deep chuckle, and tried in vain to swallow.

"Please stop..." His voice came as a strangled whisper. His hand, still on Fonzo's arm, felt the touch and warmth of the other man but the vision faded before his unblinking eyes. Terry was standing in front of him, a slight smile on his lips.

Rori squeezed the slim arm under his palm incredulously.

"What did you do?" he spluttered.

"The same thing I'm going to show to the Commanders," Terry said. "The same thing I'm going to do whenever I'm within anybody's sight on my way to Tabaimo."

"But what are you doing?" Rori demanded, still feeling jittery.

"Broadcasting," André interjected. "Right now he was telling your mind that you're seeing Fonzo. As simple as that."

"I don't believe this," Rori mumbled rubbing his face. "I just can't. You're way too incredible."

"Don't you think this guy might have the chance to convince Arria and the Dahomeys that he's the one to go?" André said.

Rori glanced at Terry and nearly shrieked when he saw, not a slim blond, but a nondescript man of about forty, with a few days' growth of stubble and a shaggy head of uneven, mousy hair.

"All right, I get the point!" He threw his hands up. "I still think it's too dangerous, but I can see that you're too determined to drop it. And I promise that if the Commanders give you a thumbs-up, I won't nag any more either."

"It's a deal," Terry grinned, himself once more. "I think an interview with the Big Bosses of this place is in order right now. After all, poor Sal has been hanging in this limbo long enough."