Disclaimer: some characters in this story belong to the makers of seaQuest DSV. No copyright infringement is intended, no money is being made. This is fanfic.

Warning: IMPORTANT. This story deals with a pseudo religious cult. I have done no research, and I know nothing about religious cults beyond what I read in the newspapers. The cult is entirely an invention and has no basis in real life: it is not intended to share any similarities with any organised religion anywhere in the world. The character of Rev Arvid is again entirely my own invention and no identification with any individual is intended or should be inferred. The Rev Arvid is a charlatan in this story and his religious beliefs are a sham. Characters will discus their opinons on the existence or otherwise of a deity. No insult is intended to anyone’s beliefs: this is a story. The opinions of the characters are not the opinions of the author. If a story dealing with a religious charlatan is likely to offend you, do not read on. I will not engage in correspondence about the religious views portrayed in this story. No offence is intended, but take it or leave it, it’s only a story.

Rating: this is ELF. Mental and some physical abuse. Some scenes later in the story will be rated NC17 but will be published simultanously with "spoiler" versions so you can skip them if you wish but still follow the plot. Watch the mail headers.

The Spiral Path

by

Sheffield

One

"Captain!"

The look of relief on Lucas’ face as he caught sight of Bridger through the glass would have been heart-warming in other circumstances. He looked incongruous enough in his surroundings: perched uncomfortably on a chair designed for a five year old, sitting at a three foot high table in a room decorated with cuddly toys and brightly coloured pictures. It was a room designed for pre-schoolers, not teenagers. Pre-schoolers were not, however, normally detained there in handcuffs.

"What’s going on here?" Bridger demanded.

"It’s my fault," Tony said flatly, "I shoulda gone with my first instincts: when the cops call your name, you run. But I had to pick today to get legal. No Lucas, it’ll be all right Lucas, we can straighten this out Lucas. Captain, you gotta tell them."

"If you’ll come with me, sir."

"I’m not going anywhere without my crewmen."

The dark haired woman in the dowdy suit put her hand on Bridger’s arm.

"I understand your concern, but you’ll appreciate that we have to be very careful about what we discuss in front of the young people in our care. If you’ll just step into the office I’m sure we can straighten all this out."

"And do you usually keep the young people in your care in handcuffs?"

"I’m sorry about that, but he was resistant. His - clearly unsuitable - companion was also encouraging him to abscond and barely escaped being arrested himself."

Bridger was unwilling to leave either Lucas or Tony alone in this bizarre environment, but they had been there long enough to realise that their opinions were of no account. Lucas shrugged wearily.

"Please, captain, go with them and sort it out. No-one will talk to me."

Bridger allowed himself to be ushered into an office and sat down at the table with the child protection officer, who introduced herself as Miss Withers, and a large stonefaced uniformed police officer.

"What court?"

It was Miss Withers who answered.

"Perhaps I should explain. As you know, here in Seeker colony we have a close connection with the Church of the Spiral Path and that connection pervades our legal system. We pride ourselves on our family values, our obedience to godly discipline. So when Lucas’ mother settled here she set in train the necessary court action to set aside the custody arrangements that had been put in place at the time of her divorce from Lucas’ father. Clearly his father wasn’t caring for the boy, leaving him in the hands of strangers, putting him in the path of danger - leaving his moral welfare completely unsupervised. And so the courts here awarded her custody and when you came into our jurisdiction we, as officers of the court, were able finally to enforce the judgement."

Bridger ignored that brutally edited account of how Lucas came to be on board seaQuest and concentrated for a moment on scanning the legal document in his hands. It did, indeed, look authentic enough. It recorded a custody hearing at the Seeker Courts in which custody of Lucas Elijah Wolanczek, a minor, was awarded to Cynthia Laura Holt Wolanczek in the "negligent absence" of Lawrence Rufus Wolanczek.

"We’ll see about this. What is the age of majority in this jurisdiction?"

"Eighteen."

"Well Lucas will be eighteen in, what, three months."

"That’s as may be. But until he is eighteen he is subject to the will of the court. Is it so unreasonable for him to visit with his mother for the next three months?"

"Well why don’t you ask him? He has a right to be consulted in all this, don’t you think?"

"Not in this legal system. In fact," Miss Withers suppressed a self-satisfied smile, "the only people who have any say in the welfare of a minor are the parents God gave him. And if Lawrence Wolenczak can’t be troubled with his son then surely you will agree his mother is the appropriate person to care for him. And you... have no standing in this matter at all, as far as I can see. Good day to you."

She stood up but Bridger blocked her way to the door.

"Now just a moment-"

Officer Cheyne took Bridger’s arm.

"Let the lady pass."

Bridger stepped back.

"I’m sorry. I hear what you say. But, if Lucas’ mother is so concerned about his welfare all of a sudden, where IS she? You can’t expect me to abandon one of my crewmembers like this, without even speaking to her."

"Mrs Arvid is at the end of the Path. The Pathway bus will call for Lucas in a few minutes and I will go with him, take him to his mother."

"Fine. I’ll go with you. I’m sure once I’ve had a chance to speak to Lucas’ mother we can straighten all this out."

"I’m sorry but that won’t be possible. The Spiral Path is open to all believers, but you will appreciate that the Pathhouse is private property. We have had problems over the years with the press, with freelance terrorists - so called "deprogrammers" - and other sensation seekers. And so I’m afraid only members of the Path can travel on the bus. Other suppliants have to walk from the gate. It’s only five miles."

"I take it you are a member?"

"I have that honour."

"And Lucas?"

"Mrs Arvid is a member. That makes her son a member."

"Excuse me? Who?"

"Oh you didn’t know? Ms Wolenczak re-married last month. She was blessed with the call to become helpmeet to the founder of Spiral Path, Reverend Arvid. Blessed be."

* * *

Bridger’s mind was full of action that would need to be taken. He needed to get Tony back to the ship, to contact Lawrence Wolanczak, to get hold of the UEO, to see about getting Lucas a lawyer. But Seeker colony was a prickly topic at present in UEO circles and he had a feeling this was going to be more of a problem than any number of killer plants and ancient gods. But for the present all he could do was stand with Tony outside the police station and watch as Miss Withers and Officer Cheyne escorted Lucas onto the brightly painted bus with "Spiral Path" painted on its side. He looked more like a prisoner being taken to jail than a teenager being taken to be reunited with his mother and Bridger’s heart sank. Maybe it wouldn’t have done any good, ultimately, for them to have drawn their weapons and made a heroic attempt to free Lucas from the clutches of the law. But just maybe that was exactly what the boy needed to see, someone put themselves on the line for him, for his right to be consulted in his future. Lucas was a valued member of the seaQuest crew roster, a distinguished academic in his own right already, an independent autonomous individual. But in the eyes of Seeker Colony law all that counted for nothing; he was a child in the custody of his parents, however unsuitable or uncaring those parents might be. For goodness sake, in three months’ time he would be eligible to vote, to join the army, to die for his country... how could it be right to say that, because of three months, he was an object to be fought over, awarded by the courts to one person or another.

Concentrate. For now, the priority was to say goodbye, to stop Tony doing anything stupid, to make sure no diplomatic incident could be made out of this.

"I’m sorry, Lucas, it looks as though you’re going to have to go with Miss Withers here, for now. Your mother is at the Pathhouse and you’ll stay with her for a few days till I get this straightened out. I’ll be in touch."

"Don’t leave without me!"

Lucas’ tone was light, he made it a joke, but there was no disguising the real concern in his eyes. Bridger made eye contact, clasped Lucas’ hand in a firm handshake."

"I won’t leave without you. Don’t worry."

[end of part one]

Lucas sat at the back of the bus, gently rubbing his aching wrists. He ought to be feeling something at the prospect of seeing his mother again but there was nothing. A sliver of ice where his heart ought to be.

The room where they had held him, though: now that had been disturbing. Child sized tables and chairs, toys, murals and mobiles. It had affected him more deeply than he expected. He knew where that one was coming from, though. When he'd been that age, his parents had been in the middle of that screaming and yelling period just before they split up. Then it had been the uncles - God, how long had it been since he'd remembered any of that procession of losers. And then the great "Broken Ribs" scandal and then it was over; off to his father, all the childhood things put behind him. A, what, seven year old little adult, forever running on the spot trying to catch up with a giant’s strides. Thank you Dr Freud, and goodnight! Knowing where it was coming from didn't make living with it any easier - another thing the psyches were all wrong about - it just meant you didn't spend so much time beating yourself up about why stuff was happening to you, you could just bypass that and go straight to beating yourself up about what a useless loser you were anyway.

"Don’t worry, Lucas! Soon be there!"

Aw no that had set her off again.

"Gee whiz." There. Did she recognise irony or did she really think he WAS a mentally retarded five year old?

A girl of about his own age swirled up the aisle of the bus towards them. Swirled? Where had that come from? But, yes, that was the word to describe the way she moved. She was wearing a ragged floor length skirt - no, not ragged, fringed; covered in beading and fringing - and a couple of shawls, something silky, something crocheted, and beads, and hair down to her waist, so that she couldn’t move without swirls of her drapery twirling around her.

She gave him a radiant smile and then grinned at the Withers woman.

"Jane? A new believer?"

"Honey, this is Lucas. Lucas, Honey."

Ah. No, she didn’t think he was a retarded pre-schooler, she obviously thought you had to speak to anyone under the age of thirty five as if they were a retarded pre-schooler. Honey ignored the tone and turned clear blue eyes on Lucas.

"Lucas? Welcome to the Path. Blessed be."

"Thanks, but I’m not joining. My mom is a member, though."

"Oh but if she’s a member then that makes you family too. Welcome, Lucas!"

Withers, bless her, took her cue and moved down the bus and Honey sat down by Lucas.

"I’m not sure about the family part; to be honest, I think this is all some kind of screw up. I’m supposed to be onboard seaQuest but I got jammed up in some kind of court thing my mom has going. I’m going up to see her and straighten it out."

"Who is your mom, Lucas? Do I know her?"

"Cynthia Wolenczak?"

"Mrs Arvid? You’re Mrs Arvid’s son? Lucas! You’re so lucky! Rev. Arvid is just about the best, the kindest, the holiest person I’ve ever met. And you get to be his son. You really are blessed."

"I’m not his son. And thanks, but I don’t think I want to be blessed right now."

"Honey?"

Uh-ho - Lucas would have put money on this bozo being Honey’s boyfriend. They looked like a matched set - her swirls, his, er, patches and tatters. He was maybe a couple of inches taller than Lucas, a couple of years older, a couple -well, maybe more than a couple - of pounds more muscle. The kind of guy that always wants to hold the head of someone like Lucas down the toilet while he pulls the chain. Lucas had lots of experience with the type from his college days, although he had had the excuse of his age to let him run away without losing face back then and, somehow, he didn’t think he’d get away with that with someone like...

"Bob. Hi, Lucas. I’ve been hearing all about you."

Bob, huh? Yes, he looked like a "Bob". He was wearing tattered old work pants and a shirt and vest which both looked home made, if you have the kind of home where a demented granny sits day and night cutting up perfectly good pieces of cloth into very small pieces. He held out a meaty right hand to Lucas and gave him a hearty handshake, the kind where the other person looks you right in the eye and makes it very clear that they are trying to look right into your soul.

"Nothing good, I hope?"

"No. About your home life, Lucas. I’m really sorry."

Lucas felt a hot flare of anger that these people would dare to pity him but that was their problem. He knew he was OK, knew his father had done the best he could for him. If these bozos thought living in a commune on a bag of rice was happiness, they were welcome to it.

"Don’t be," he said seriously, meaning it as a warning, "I’m fine. Or I will be, when we get this jam-up with your courts sorted out."

"Maybe." Bob didn’t look convinced, but he and Honey squeezed in either side of Lucas on the back seat of the bus and started pointing out the landmarks of the island.

It was weird, he thought, being so far inland that you couldn’t see the horizon. Oh, there was a line where the earth met the sky, obviously, but it wasn’t a true horizon, the extent of the curvature of the earth like you get out on the ocean; it was just a messy skyline, trees, bushes, rocks, hills, _things_, blocking out the true horizon. But the bus was swerving off the road at a hard right angle and pausing in front of a gigantic concrete wall.

"This is the tunnel, the Strait Path - it’s a short cut to the House itself; we can use it because we’re all family but obviously if you were approaching on your own you’d have to use the Spiral Path. Oh Lucas you’re so lucky, to be coming here for the first time..."

"Whatever."

There were metal doors which opened up for them and closed smoothly behind them, like the doors to a missile silo, and then they were travelling on a straight road through the dimly lit tunnel, using headlamps to drive by, Lucas squinting in the sudden darkness, grey pillars flicking by with monotonous regularity.

And then they were out into the light. Wonderland, he thought: I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole into wonderland. The bus was surrounded by a rainbow of colours and the soft sussuration of a hundred people clapping delightedly. The bus was surrounded by brightly dressed young people waving enormous brightly coloured silk banners which they flung over and over the bus until it was buried in a cross between a spiderweb and a rainbow. They filed off the bus and were swept away, hands reaching out for them, leading them on through the crowd, gentle touches patting them on the shoulders and head, half felt like a caress. The air was filled with the sound of their applause, like gentle rain, and the sound of laughter, and words of welcome.

"Lucas! Welcome! Welcome! Lucas!" they said, "Welcome Home!"

He was taken aback to find tears standing in his eyes.

[end of part two]

They led him into the house. It was a noble old structure, a warren of graciously proportioned rooms and richly carpeted corridors that they moved through like a brightly coloured, chattering, swarm. But everyone seemed to know their place, gradually peeling off, doors softly closing behind them as they disappeared into their different destinations. So at the end it was only Honey and Bob who shepherded him into the room where he was to meet his mother.

And there she was.

He stood on the threshold, uncertain what to do, surprised at the waves of emotion that assailed him - nostalgia? regret? a tinge of, what? fear?

She looked the same. Ageless. Everyone's mother looks the same age, the right age, all their lives, until suddenly they look up and find she is old. But Lucas was too young to know that yet, and to him his mother looked just the same as she had when he had last seen her, ten years ago.

Then she stepped forward and stopped being "mother" and became "person". And he looked at this person, this stranger, with unforgiving eyes. She was dressed, as they all were, in multi-coloured patched and tattered clothes, as if he had, like the old fairy tales, been carried off by the raggle taggle gypsies-o. And she was smiling. It looked to him like an idiot grin, too broad to be true, too wide to have meaning. Why was he here? She hadn’t wanted him when he had needed her; when she had been "mother", that omnipotent, omniscient source of everything good. And now he recognised her for what she was, a person, not a power, and yet here she was, re-directing the course of his life for what; a religious experience? a passing fancy? a whim? He ruthlessly swallowed down the conflicting brew of emotions that threatened to drown him and found that the only one which wouldn't be suppressed was - irritation.

"So. When can I go back to seaQuest?"

It didn’t come out right, of course. He meant to sound superior, adult, intellectual, and heard himself sound petulant, sulky, trivial.

There was someone else in the room. Someone dressed in black - impossibly tall, impossibly broad, impossibly bearded. He was reduced to being a six year old facing one of the "uncles" again. He took a deep breath and looked, really looked, at the man standing next to his mother. Just a guy in black with a beard. He had brown eyes that twinkled, making him look for all the world like Father Christmas’ younger brother.

"Lucas!" Cringle Jr was saying reproachfully "is that any way to greet your mother? I’m Rev Arvid - your new stepfather. Welcome to my family. I hope you’re going to be happy here. Honey and Bob have been looking after you, I hope?"

He shook his head irritably, the way you would brush off a fly. What did Bob or Honey matter just now?

"Sure they have. Glad to meet you. Mom? Can we talk?"

But he was enfolded in an enormous maternal embrace and Arvid was sending Honey and Bob for tea and cakes and they were moving chairs around and it all just kept _happening_ and she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

"Mom?" he repeated

"Sit down," she said, and, "ohhh... Lucas!"

And then she was crying and they wouldn’t stop _fussing_ over her and leave the two of them alone.

He found himself sitting with a china plate in one hand and a china cup and saucer in the other, trying to balance the demands of politeness with the need to talk, really talk, to his mother, and the urgent desire to smack Honey and Bob down like mosquitoes. And Arvid.

It was visceral. Maybe it was the memory of the "uncles" but, really, he didn’t think so. It was one of those dogs-either-side-of-the-fence things, hackles rising at the mere existence of the other in the universe, let alone their presence in each other’s space. Arvid might look like everyone’s kindly uncle but Lucas recognised him as an enemy in that first second.

* * *

"Lawrence!"

"Now, don’t ‘Lawrence’ me, Nathan. I know what I’m doing."

"What _you’re_ doing? But what about Lucas?"

"They boy’s visiting with his mother - what could possibly be the harm in that? It’s about time, if you think about it. Ten years, god. Where does the time go."

"He’s not ‘visiting with his mother’, he’s staying at the headquarters of some crackpot cult. When he shaves his head and starts chanting mantras and begging for pennies in the streets what are you going to say?"

"Look, Nathan, you’re just going to have to trust me, that I know what I’m doing here."

"That’s it? That’s your only answer?"

"Nathan, you worry too much."

The screen went blank.

* * *

"Well, Lucas, why don’t you and Bob and Honey go over to the novices house now, so you can start getting settled in properly?"

"Excuse me? The what?"

"The novices house. That’s where you’ll be sleeping tonight. Bob and Honey will show you the ropes, help you settle in."

Arvid gave Lucas his trademark twinkling smile but the teen wasn’t buying it. Over tea, and cakes, and more tea, his mother had addressed exactly two comments to Lucas: one of them being "more tea, Lucas?" and the other "more cake?" But he had to try: "Mom?" he said. But it was, again, Arvid who answered.

"When people first join the Spiral Path they live collectively in the novices house until they decide whether the Path is right for them, and we decide they are right for us. You’ll be staying there, for now."

"Mom?" he said again, "I thought you went to court to get me to come live with you. Is this what you had in mind?"

Arvid looked at her. She met his eyes and then turned obediently to address her son.

"Lucas, you are my son and I love you. But I’m a member of the Path, now. When you have made your decision to join, then we can talk. But until you’ve given the Path a chance, put yourself under discipline, seen what I’ve seen - we really have nothing more to say to each other."

She stood up and left the room before Lucas could disentangle himself from the chair, the crockery - the shock.

"Now. Let’s have no more of this. I know you’re feeling lost and strange here, after that pit of iniquity you’ve been living in for the past few years. But give us a chance, Lucas, and you’ll learn there’s more to life. Much more. Wonderful things you never dreamed of in your old life. And when you’ve made your choice, made a commitment to the Path, your mother and I will be here for you. But for the next three months until your birthday you have to rememeber that, legally, here, you’re my son and what I say goes. And what I’m saying to you is, you go to the novices house and do as Bob tells you. Right now."

Arvid, Honey and Bob all stood up and, more in astonishment than obedience, Lucas found he too had risen. Stunned by surprise into compliance, he followed Bob and Honey out of the house and found himself in the grounds at the rear of the mansion. It was twilight, and in the grey half light the grounds looked monochrome and sinister. They walked across grey lawns towards a high hedge and then Lucas stopped, bewildered, as they seemed to be walking towards an open field dotted with white igloos or mushrooms.

"Most of the complex is underground" Honey explained.

"What are those? Air vents?"

"Oh no: everything is entirely self contained. When Armageddon comes, those of us at the end of the Path will all be saved. What you see above ground is just the airlocks."

Great, Lucas thought to himself, I’m in a James Bond movie.

[end of part three]

It was an underground space as large as an aircraft hanger, lit by warm yellow uplighters all around the walls and smelling faintly of some kind of herb or incense. There were beds, narrow single beds with identical white sheets and blue blankets, pushed together in clusters of six, head to head in two rows of three.

"This is where you’ll be sleeping, Lucas."

"Well OK. But you know your cops picked me up off the street: I don’t have any stuff with me. Not even a toothbrush."

"That’s not a problem. Come on."

The clusters of beds were spread around the edges of the space: the centre was filled with scattered groups of armchairs and tables, as well as more formal-looking groups of desks and chairs that looked like they were set up for study groups. Around the walls were a number of doors, some with palmlocks next to them, some with keypads. Bob led Lucas over to a palmlocked door and let him into a locker room. He indicated a locker and took out of it a rolled bundle of cloth which he handed to Lucas.

"Here," he said, "change into this. Leave all your stuff in the locker."

Lucas unrolled the garment.

"You want me to wear this?"

Honey grinned at him.

"It’s a chiton. It’s what everybody wears when they first come to the novices house. I hated it too, believe me! You’ll find there are a dozen or so chitons here at the moment; all working away like mad to make their baptism cloth!"

"It’s kind of an initiation thing. You wear the chiton to indicate you’re not a member yet. And to become a member, one of the things you have to do is to make your own baptism outfit -" he indicated the patchwork garments he and Honey were both wearing, "like this. You’ll get time to work on your patches over the next few days."

"Yea, well, like I said before, I’m not interested in becoming a member. I’m just a visitor."

Honey smiled.

"I’ll leave you boys to it."

Lucas and Bob faced each other.

"You’re a member, Lucas, whether you like it or not. So put on the chiton, OK."

"I don’t think so."

"We having a problem, Bob?"

There were three of them. Great. Big, dumb, jocks. Just the kind of people Lucas loved. So. He wasn’t a fool, he knew the kind of techniques cults use to break people down: take away anything that reminds you of your identity, control your access to information, mix you up, wear you down. Here it begins. Moment of truth. Was he going to fight for his clothes or was he going to let them take them away from him?

But Bob was reacting to the newcomers the way a small dog reacts to a big dog; backing down, backing away, bending his head, acting like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the sweetie jar.

"No problem, brother. I was just explaining to Lucas here that he should put his worldly clothes away and put on the chiton."

"Ah, so you’re Lucas, Rev. Arvid’s son. We’ve been hearing a lot about you. I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Stephen, this is Blair and Shannon. Which prayer group is Lucas in, Bob?"

"Mine, brother."

"Fine. So you and Honey and Star are looking after him, are you? And who else? Shannon, that’s your group too, isn’t it?"

"Yes brother. And Thea’s"

"Ah yes. Well, Lucas, you have a lot to learn but five fine people to help you. Is there a problem with the chiton?"

The chiton itself turned out to be the kind of thing Ancient Greek slaves wore in sword-and-sandal movies: a short robe worn, it seemed, with nothing underneath it. There wasn’t anything on earth that was going to persuade Lucas to part with his chinos and flash his knees amongst these weirdoes.

"Not really. But I’m only a visitor here. There’s a problem with your court system that means I have to stick around a while. But at most that will only be till my next birthday in a couple of months. I don’t plan on joining. So I’ll pass on the chiton, thanks. I should probably send a message to the seaQuest, get them to send out my stuff."

"Well that’s fine, Lucas. Your choice. No-one here is going to force you to do anything you don’t want. I don’t want you getting the idea we’re anything like those horror stories you’ve read in the tabloids! Bob, why didn’t you explain to Lucas properly?"

"Sorry, brother. Sorry, Lucas."

"That’s fine. But, Lucas, I’m afraid I am going to have to ask you to put your watch and any other electronic equipment in the locker for safekeeping. It’s against our beliefs to use technology for something we can do ourselves and, even as a visitor, I’m sure you’ll respect our principles."

"No problem." It seemed a fair trade. He was willing to give up his watch if it meant he could keep his pants. Lucas took off his watch and emptied his pockets into the locker.

"This is Star: she’s a novice too. Came in on the same bus as you: still checking out whether she’s right for us and we’re right for her. Rev Arvid thought it would be nice for you to not to be the only new person in your group. And this is Thea and Shannon: Honey and Bob you already know. So. The six of you make up a prayer group: you pray together, sleep in the same group, eat together, help each other with your chores."

Star was wearing a chiton, and she blushed prettily when introduced to

the fully-clothed Lucas. Lucas was suddenly vividly aware of the coolness of the air against his own skin, and how cold it must feel to be standing in this space wearing nothing but a flimsy piece of linen. He felt his own blush spread.

A bell rang.

"Great. Let’s eat."

* * *

"Say that again?"

"I’m sorry sir but your application is refused."

"On what possible grounds?"

"You’re the captain of a warship."

"A UEO scientific and exploration vessel."

"Armed with nuclear warheads."

"Yes..."

"Then a warship. And so, by definition, AS the captain of a warship, you constitute a malign influence on the character of a vulnerable and malleable young person."

The placid-faced woman behind the glass screen finally met Bridger’s eyes and smiled.

"There _is_ an appeals procedure."

Bridger knew bureacracy: an appeals procedure that would turn him around, spin him about and spit him out the other end no nearer to his objective. But, by all means, let’s go throught the process.

* * *

"Outside, we are subjected to a thousand subliminal bombardments. Here, at the centre, at the end of the Path, we can find peace."

Bombardments? Without his watch, Lucas had lost track of time. There was no variation in the level of light, no external sounds. They had eaten an enormous meal of vegetables and rice and fruit, washed down with copious amounts of some kind of slightly tart red drink, something like cranberry juice mixed with maybe soda water. No caffeine: Lucas, used to constant coffee and cokes on demand, was developing a pounding caffeine-deprivation headache. And then there had been a prayer meeting - how embarassing had that been - and then an arts and crafts session where they tried to persuade him to embark on making his own set of patchwork clothes. And now another discussion group: Thea and Shannon and Honey and Bob and Star. He was getting heartily sick of the five faces, the sound of their five voices, the constant whine of argument. He had no idea how long he had been awake but, however long it had been, it had been a long day. When, finally, they settled down for the night - inches away from each other in the narrow penitential beds - he was too tired to think.

And then he was awake. There was a bell ringing and all around the hanger people were stirring. Shannon and Bob showed Lucas where the mens showers were.

And he emerged, wrapped in a towel from the communal pile, to find his clothes gone and a chiton neatly laid out where they had been.

"Aw hey, Lucas, I’m sorry. Someone must have taken your stuff to laundry with everything else."

"Lucas! Cool! Now there are two of us."

Given the innocent delight on Star’s face at not being the only chiton-wearer in her group, how could anyone complain at a little laundry mix-up?

Round one to the weirdoes, he thought resignedly.

[end of part four]

I want to go home. The thought vibrated in his head as loudly as if it had been broadcast over loudspeakers, a constant rhythm underlying everything that happened during the endless periods of wakefulness. I want to go home, he thought, but: where is home?

Was it seaQuest that was the source of the longing? For certainly it _was_ a longing, a hopeless urge to go back to the place where he could be himself, be accepted for what he was, loved unconditionally, safe. I want to go home, he thought hopelessly. But where is home?

The word didn’t seem to have a referent any more. He remembered, those first weeks on board seaQuest after his father had dumped him there, lying awake in his bunk at with exactly the same thought pounding through his brain. I want to go home. Now, lying cold and uncomfortable in the Spiral Path novices house, hungry and exhausted and with a pounding caffeine headache, he lay imagining himself safe and warm in his bunk on seaQuest, the comforting white noise of the engines, the aquatubes, Tony’s snoring, all reminding him he was not alone. But he remembered lying in that same bunk with that same feeling, I want to go home. What had home meant then?

His room at the university? Yes, perhaps. For a while, at least, he had been unhappy on seaQuest; felt lonely and strange. And he had lain in his bunk wishing he was back in the snug little room he had lived in on campus; the posters on the walls, the comfortable mess. But he had been too young to join in with the social life of the university, at least the night life, much. And his chief memory was of lying there between the crisp white sheets listening to the sounds of drunken laughter from the quadrangle beyond his windows. And feeling lost and alone and wanting nothing more than to go... home.

And where had "home" meant then? His father’s house? His mother’s? The long-ago family home where the three of them had lived together?

I want to go home, he thought. He had been wanting it all his life.

* * *

"Look, buddy, all I want to do is visit, OK? I’m not gonna join, I’m not gonna shoot up the place, I’m not gonna clue them in that it’s all a con - I won’t say anything at all. Your weirdoes are safe from me. But Lucas is my friend. I just want to go up there and say hi. You got a problem with that?"

"As I think I’ve explained to you, several times, the Spiral Path is open to anyone who wants to join."

"And I don’t wanna join."

"In which case, you have to understand that the Pathhouse is on private property. You can’t just march in there. And, particularly since the person you want to visit is a minor, we have to be very careful about the influences we allow inside the Path."

"Yea, I get it. But I’ been sharing a cabin with the kid - any influence he’s gonna get from me, lady, you’d have to say he’s already got."

"I’ve had a look at your record. You are a convicted felon, I believe?"

"I paid my dues."

"Nevertheless. You are a convicted felon, are you not?"

"Yea?"

"And so, by definition, you constitute a malign influence on the character of a vulnerable and malleable young person. Your application to visit the Pathhouse is refused."

Tony hadn’t, realistically, expected anything else. When she started to speak again he knew exactly what she was going to say and they ended up chanting the words in unison:

"There is, of course, an appeals procedure."

* * *

They lived on vegetables and rice and he was constantly hungry. Oh, the food _looked_ plentiful enough. In the first day or two, when he could still do mental arithmetic, he had estimated the calories they were actually taking in, though, and it came out at about six to eight hundred calories a day. A starvation diet, in fact. At some point there must be a let-up, or else why didn’t they all look like anorectics, but Lucas couldn’t work out what it was.

He couldn’t, in fact, seem to work out anything much at all any more. First of all there was the food, the constant gnawing hunger and the weird aches and pains which, he knew, were most likely simply his body getting used to being deprived of the various chemicals in the processed food people ate out in the world. The caffeine headache had made the first few days torture but now he was just as addicted to the red juice as he had ever been to coffee and coke, finding he drank and drank the stuff and never quenched his thirst. He was pretty sure they laced it with something or other too. Or maybe he was just stupid and slow like this all the time; why should it need drugs? But a few uppers and downers might explain the mood swings he was feeling and something like rohypnol would explain the... no, he wasn’t going to think about that.

You have to hold on, that’s the thing. He knew that. He knew what they were doing. They’d taken his clothes and watch. They were controlling his food, his access to information. Hell, they were even controlling whether it was day or night. It was always the same, down here in the novices house, the same flat unnatural light, whether it was midnight or midday. There were no clocks, the Path members seemed to move from one activity to another like ants responding to some signal he couldn’t detect, a pheromone or something, or a whistle pitched too high for him to hear. But he was sure... almost sure... that they were playing with the circadian rhythms. It would make sense. Long days, short nights, sleep deprivation without any actual force, anything you could actually complain about, react to. And they were always there, one after another, always at his elbow, nagging away. Have you felt God’s love? Have you felt God’s presence? Have you listened to Arvid. No, but have you heard him, really heard what he has to say? He loves us all, but he loves you - you - in particular. We all love you. Arvid loves you. Arvid IS love. And God is love. Arvid is love and God is love. It’s a simple syllogism. You’re a logician, Lucas. It’s math, pure and simple. Follow the math. If A=X and B=X then A=B. Arvid is love. God is love. What follows? Simple. Relax. Here. Drink this. Better? It’s simple logic. Let go of your inhibitions. Let go of your fears. The world is an illusion. This is real. This. Here. In this room. Hear my voice. Just mine. The argument in your head is the voice of illusion. Illusion is the enemy. The voice in your head is the enemy. Simple logic. Don’t listen to the argument in your head, but instead concentrate on my voice. Hear me. Drink this. Better? Yes. Let go. Relax. Submit.

He was in the shower, spraying cold water onto his face. A little cold hard reality, shaking his head as if the constant whine of Thea, and Bob, and Honey, and all of them, was a physical thing he could shake off.

"Lucas?"

The voice was tentative, female.

"Star?"

"Lucas, I want..."

He grabbed a towel.

"Don’t turn off the water!" she whispered urgently. "They listen. I’m sure of it."

"Who?"

"All of them. You know. Look, Lucas, I want to get out of here."

"You and me both. But you can split any time. Just go."

"Do you think they’ll let me?"

"I think they have to. I mean, they always say they only take people who want to be here. I’m only here because of my mom, but you can go any time."

"How?" she was crying openly now, not pretty little fake tears like you see on TV but real honest tears that made her face red and blotchy.

"Look, just go. Don’t try and get your clothes and stuff back or else they’ll just keep finding ways to slow you down... it’s at the laundry, they lost the key to your locker, whatever. Just walk out in what you’re wearing, and then walk down to the town. There are people who help people trying to get away from cultists. They’ll find you, I’ll bet. Or else go to the harbour and find seaQuest - they’ll take you in, or at least help you get off the island. Tell them I sent you - you can have clothes and shoes and money from my stuff, enough to get you back home. You do have somewhere to go?"

"I guess. My aunt would take me in, I think, if I could get to her."

"Then just go. Now."

But she was still crying steadily, too afraid to take the first step. He put his head under the cold spray again, conscious of the closeness of her, the flimsy chiton she was wearing wet with the spray. He pulled the towel more firmly around his loins and reached for another one to dry himself, trying to rub some sense back into his head. Why couldn’t he _think_ any more? He left the shower running but stepped out, pulled on a chiton and took her hand.

"If you want to leave, leave. I’ll walk with you to the gate. I can’t come with you because I’m not here voluntarily like you - they have a court order keeping me. But they haven’t got anything on you. All you have to do is walk the spiral and you can go. You know that. They keep saying we’re all here freely: well, make them prove it. If I go with you they won’t try anything. They can’t. All you have to do is ignore what they say while you walk the path, and then walk out of the gate and go... Otherwise they prove everything they’ve ever said is a lie and the others will see it too.

They were never alone for this long. Shannon and Thea were there, with Honey and Bob close behind them.

"What’s going on?" Bob said sharply. "Lucas? Star?"

Lucas looked at her. She was still crying. She nodded slightly.

"Star is leaving," he said calmly, "I’m going to walk her to the gate."

[end of part five]

No-one laid a hand on them as they made their way out of the airlock. But, slowly, gradually, the others began to gather around, as if called by a signal only they could hear.

Daylight. Lucas blinked back tears as his eyes were assaulted by the sudden glare. He had, almost, forgotten what sunlight was.

There were more of them now, coming from the other airlocks and from the house itself, converging on the two white-clad figures. Instinctively Lucas and Star joined hands and kept their heads up, looking firmly ahead at their goal, the start of the spiral path, the way you ignore a big dog in the next yard hoping if you don’t bother it, it won’t bother you.

They began quietly at first.

"Come back, Star. At least let me get you your clothes and your shoes out of the locker. You’ll cut your feet to ribbons walking out like that. It won’t take a minute. Come on."

That was easy enough.

"Don’t listen to them. Go."

They made their way to the circle at the front of the house and followed the brick path as it spiralled around and around, so for the first five minutes they seemed to make no progress at all, winding back towards the house again and again and again. But that was the deal. They had said all along that if you wanted to leave, all you had to do was walk the spiral path to the gate and go, just as they said all anyone had to do to visit was to walk the spiral path from the gate to the house. But somehow no-one ever came, no-one ever left. The brick dust hurt their feet but they stayed on the path while the others danced around them on the cool wet grass.

"Star, please, don’t. You don’t know what’s out there. It’s all illusion. They don’t care. We care. We care about you, here, at the Path. Rev. Arvid cares - just come back and talk to him a moment."

"Keep going. They won’t touch you."

He had a sudden insane desire to laugh, to skip arm in arm along the path with Star like Dorothy and the Tin Man. Of course! That was it, the Wizard of Oz! He knew the start of the Spiral Path had reminded him of something and that was it, the yellow brick road. With a reckless giggle he started to hum under his breath and, after a second, Star picked it up too. The two of them linked arms and, like naughty children taunting the adults, picked up their pace and started to sing.

"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeere OFF to see the wizARD, the WONderful WIZard of OZZZZZZZZZZ", leaving the Spiral Path’s novices and their keepers standing around them on the grass looking lost and bewildered.

There were more of them now. There was purposeful movement, someone speaking into a microphone, and then the sound of the little golf carts that were used to transport people and material around the grounds. The crowd enfolded them briefly and then parted and there he was. Arvid. Standing tall and immovable like a biblical patriarch. Lucas found he was trembling, and the touch of Star’s hand on his arm was the touch of someone shivering. He’s just a man with a beard and a black coat, Lucas told himself firmly. So why am I so afraid?

"Lucas. Star. Where are you going?"

"Star wants to leave. I’m walking her to the gate."

"Dressed like that?"

"You could bring her her clothes and her stuff, if you like. I’m sure she’d appreciate it. But we aren’t going to stop and we aren’t turning back. You said you didn’t force people to stay. Is it true?"

"Of course. No-one is a prisoner here. If Star wants to leave, all she has to do is walk the spiral and go. But I’m hearing a lot from you about what Star wants. Star? What do you want?"

He tried to convey strength to her by the touch of his hand on her arm. She had to stand firm. Just say she wanted to leave, and go. But there were hundreds of them now, all around, a silent wall of wills. The pressure was almost palpable.

"What Lucas said," she said softly, "I - I’d like to leave."

Arvid opened his arms and the crowd of acolytes fell back, as if he opened the way for the two white-clad figures.

"Whatever you want, Star. We all love you, you know that, and if you are lost to us on the Outside, you know that we will pray for you, and remember you, and mourn for you. But if your heart tells you that you must go, you must follow your heart."

They walked on steadily, feeling almost foolish, treading the widening gyre of the path. And found perforce they were following Arvid, who shepherded them onwards, smiling.

"Tell me, Star, where it is that you’re going?"

She looked up at Lucas, unable to answer.

"Seaquest," he found himself saying, "she’s going to walk into town and go to seaQuest. They’ll help her out with clothes, and money, and whatever she needs. She has places to go." He didn’t want to speak for her, but she seemed to be paralysed with fear, like a rabbit with a snake. And he wanted - he wanted so badly - to be her rescuer, to get her out of there, even if he couldn’t get himself. There were rules, and if you followed the rules, then the mechanism worked as it was designed to work. The rule was, if you walked the spiral path, you could go. Maybe they could keep him there for the weeks and days till his birthday but when that day dawned he would be on the path and out of the gate home to seaQuest as fast as his feet would carry him.

"It’s a long way," Arvid was saying.

Fierce blue eyes glared back at him.

"She’ll make it," Lucas vowed. Arvid smiled.

"You are younger than you think, Lucas. As well as older than you know. I meant, it’s a long way to walk, especially shoeless, wearing a chiton. They weren’t designed for public view. I was offering to help. The pathway bus is here. Let me drive you."

Lucas looked at Star but her eyes were shining at Arvid.

"You’d take me? To seaQuest? Can Lucas come too?"

Arvid smiled slyly at Lucas.

"Of course."

It wasn’t the big old bus they’d brought him there on, but a little minivan with seating for eight. Arvid climbed up behind the wheel and Star clambered in behind him, looking back for Lucas. He stood still a moment but, if she wouldn’t stick to the path, there was nothing he could usefully do for her except follow. The crowd of acolytes parted a moment and Arvid’s lieutenant Steven, and Shannon from Lucas and Star’s prayer group, clambered up into the back seats to join them.

The journey to the gate passed in silence. Lucas was looking for the trick, expecting there to be a cheat, but Star was looking fixedly ahead over Arvid’s shoulder, like a child on an exciting outing.

Lucas recognised the road back towards the harbour and tried to put together what he would say when they reached seaQuest. Mundane things. How much cash had he left behind that he could give to Star. Would there be a problem about getting her some clothes: she was smaller and slighter than he was. She could certainly wear his clothes in a disaster, an emergency, but would she really want to travel back to her aunt’s dressed in his cast-offs. Perhaps Lonnie or one of the other female crewmembers would help her out, if he asked. Would Arvid give him time to access his bank account for her. Would Arvid let him see his friends, speak to Bridger.

And then the bus drew to a halt.

Arvid turned around and looked Lucas directly in the eyes.

"My son, I want you to know that your mother and I love you, and we will always be there for you, whatever happens, whatever you decide to do. The Spiral Path will always be there for you, will always be your family. And I’m sorry you have to see this. But it’s better to know the truth."

Star’s hand was on his arm and as she listened to Arvid she pressed closer to Lucas. Steven murmured "amen" and reached a friendly hand forward to pat Lucas’ shoulder. Shannon, too, reached forward and rubbed Lucas’ back the way you would soothe a frightened animal. In the confined space of the van he couldn’t shake them off and in any event their touches weren’t particularly intrusive or inappropriate; but they were inside his personal space, under his defences as the van began to move again and crested the rise to the harbour.

The sea was wide, and blue, and empty. And seaQuest was gone.

[end of part 6]

"Lawrence!"

"Hello Nathan."

"What the hell is going on? What are all these people doing on my boat?"

"Now don’t be like that. I couldn’t tell you the full story any sooner. There’s a theory the Spiral Path have some way of intercepting UEO communications. The decision was taken that you would only be told face to face. But I’m here now. Let me get my people settled and then we’ll talk."

"We’d better. I gave Lucas my word that seaQuest wouldn’t leave without him and I don’t like breaking my word, especially to him."

"Lucas will understand."

"There had better be a good explanation, that’s all I can say."

"Oh I can do better than explanations. I’ll show you."

* * *

The doors to the van were open. Lucas and Star stood on the edge of the sea, wondering what to do now. Star looked up at Lucas and whispered "let’s go back."

"You could still-"

She could still what? Wander around the town in a chiton and no shoes till they arrested her for indecency? If she had the courage to defy Arvid he would support her, but he couldn’t give her that courage to begin with. Defeated, alone, he followed her back to the van and they drove in silence back to the Pathhouse.

"I’m going to ask you to take some time out now to think over what you’ve done. Steven will take you to the time out room. Stay there till he comes for you."

Arvid’s back was turned to them. Steven ushered them into a different airlock from the one to the novice’s house and they heard it clang firmly shut behind them.

They had to bend double to enter and, as they did so, a second door closed with finality behind them. And then they saw the space. It opened out into a circular arena perhaps ten yards across, but never high enough to stand upright. The lighting was recessed into the floor around the edges of the circle, where the ceiling met the floor. They were imprisoned in a dimly lit flattened dome, the shape of an igloo crushed by a giant.

Crouching low was going to be a pain, that much was immediately obvious. They sat down, and found that because of the slope of the ceiling there was of course no way to lean against anything except each other. Their only options were to sit or lie down.

It was weird, but not immediately threatening. They sat in the centre of the circle and tried to find a comfortable position to wait out the time.

The lights were dim; they couldn’t stand up, so they couldn’t pace. There was nothing to do, nothing to hear, no food and drink. Just themselves, the warmth of their bodies, sitting back to back leaning against each other. There was nothing to say, nothing to be done. Time out.

Lucas was intensely conscious of the feeling of Star’s body, her slender back leaning against his, separated only by the flimsy chitons they wore. After a while she stretched like a cat, muscles moving against him, and moved away.

"Sorry Lucas," she said apologetically, "but my back hurts. This place is so uncomfortable."

She lay down flat on her back, careful with the arrangement of the drapery of her chiton. After a moment Lucas felt awkward sitting up, as if he was leering down at her, so he did the same. There they were, left to their own devices, lying on their backs, side by side.

He could feel the heat of her, their bodies separated by a few inches of space. He was suddenly acutely conscious of his own body, the inadequacy of the chiton as a covering. His eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to her legs, long and straight and slender, next to his. There was no underwear with a chiton and his eyes were involuntarily drawn to the place her chiton ended...

He turned away from her, onto his side, curled up, petrified by the reactions of his body, that she would see, and know...

"Lucas? What is it? What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," he said desperately, "I’m just tired. I think I’ll nap for a while, OK?"

Ah god no, not now, he thought, betrayed by his own involuntary reactions, his chiton tenting, his pulse racing. He fought for calm, trying all his mantras - visualising the connections on the motherboard for the new language unit he was working on for Darwin, listing the number of languages Tim O’Neill could speak, remembering the sensation of scuba diving in the arctic - but it wasn’t working...

"Lucas?"

"Leave me alone," he said hoarsely. Oh god, please, just don’t talk to me, don’t see, don’t know...

"Lucas, it’s all right. Really."

Her breath on the back of his neck, her hand on his shoulder. She knew. Oh god, she knew.

"Lucas - I -"

"Go away."

Her hand was moving, caressing his neck, twining in his hair.

"Lucas...please...I just don’t want to be alone."

He turned to look at her. It would be so easy to say yes, to turn to each other for comfort. And why should he not? He was alone; they had promised to wait for him but they had gone. The empty ocean mocked him, Star’s warmth was right beside him, they could be allies against the weirdoes, against Arvid.

...against Arvid, the arch manipulator who had locked them up together. Lucas looked at Star’s face, open, wet with tears, violet eyes wide, and, in a chilling moment of clarity, understood the truth.

* * *

"They targeted McGath’s neice, a godson of the Chief of Staff, the Macronesian ambassador’s cousin... at first we dealt with it on a case by case basis but after the first few it became apparent that the Spiral Path is deliberately targeting people who give them a hold over the people who matter in the UEO. We’ve tried to infiltrate operatives in there but they haven’t taken any of them. Lucas was an obvious choice: his connection to me made him a target as well as his own skills offering Arvid a way into the UEO’s systems, if he could assimilate him. Most of the people the Path has targeted have had a trust fund tucked away somewhere too: we estimate Arvid has pulled in several millions that way, so Lucas’ trust fund would be a nice bonus."

"Lucas has a trust fund?"

"Oh come on Nathan. I set up a college fund for him when he was born and he went through the entire system on scholarships he won by his own efforts. I’ve been adding to the fund every year and since he’s been on the boat I’ve been putting his UEO salary in there as well."

"Wait a minute - he hasn’t been drawing his salary?"

"Nathan he was fifteen when he came on board seaQuest. You don’t think I was going to let a fifteen year old run riot with an adult salary do you? Anyway, what was he going to spend it on on your boat? I’ve been putting his salary into the trust and giving him the same pocket money he always had. The important thing is, with Lucas we had time to prepare. As soon as Cynthia got involved with Arvid the alarm bells started ringing but with Lucas’ whereabouts under control because of him being onboard seaQuest, for the first time we could control where and when a target came into contact with the Path."

"You sent Lucas in there deliberately?"

"Of course. We talked the whole thing out the last time we met up."

Six months ago, Bridger thought bitterly. Everyone on board seaQuest would remember the last time Lucas met his father. It was also the first time since the boy had come on board two years ago and Lucas’ joy had given them all something to warm themselves with on the long lonely nights at sea. He should have known. He had been so happy for Lucas he had blinded himself to the fact that Lawrence Wolanczek never did anything with his son without an ulterior motive in there somewhere.

Come to think of it, Lucas had come back on board at the end of the weekend looking subdued and silent but they had all attributed it to the inevitable let down of encountering in the flesh someone you invested so many hopes and dreams in, as Lucas did his father.

"You said you would do better than telling me, that you could show me..."

* * *

"Tash" he said.

"What?"

"Tash."

"What’s that?" Star asked, wide-eyed.

"Remember the Narnia books? C S Lewis?"

"I don’t think I ever read them. Why?"

"Tash was the name of the demon in them, a kind of anti-christ, the opposite power to the lion Aslan who represented goodness. Tash is what Arvid reminds me of, kind of, only not so tall."

He laughed to himself at the thought of the stocky bearded Arvid as the multi-armed beaked demon Tash.

"I wonder what these domes are made of."

"Lucas, I don’t understand you, you’re talking wildly. Why does it matter what the domes are made of or whether Arvid reminds you of the characters in some book?"

"Tash, yes." He raised his head to the sky, or at least to the blank grey roof of the dome, so close above his head, and yelled out "Tash! Tash! Tash!" And laughed, close to tears.

[end of part 7]