The Search for Sam by Pittacus Lore

a few more buttons, and Malcolm
     is prompted—whether by wire or chemical—to return to sleep. But not before he fixes
     me with a haunted, quizzical look.
    I’m under. At first it’s just a void, a black so black I wonder for a moment if this
     is what One experiences when she disappears. Then come blasts of light and crackling
     static, as I find myself plunged into One’s memories.
    I look around, getting my bearings. I’m in a wooden shack, in bed, my head hanging
     over the side of the mattress. Through the cracks in the floorboards, I see rushing
     water: a river.
    The Rajang River.
    “They’re coming.”
    I turn to see Hilde, One’s Cêpan. She’s staring through a slat in the door, ready
     to fight. She rushes to me, shaking me, pulling me out of bed.
    That’s when I realize I’m not just a spectator to One’s final memories, as I was during
     most of my time in her consciousness. I’ve been plugged directly into her experience. Ghost-One is nowhere to be seen. I’m completely fused with her:
     every thought, every feeling. The humidity inside the shack. The sweat trickling down
     my back. I can feel Hilde’s eyes on me, inspecting my readiness for combat.
    I’m not ready , I think. I’m just scared .
    The Mogadorian assault team kicks in the door and Hilde leaps into action. She dodges
     a Mog’s knife, and as the Mog spins around to recover his balance she crushes his
     windpipe with a single strike. As he collapses, she whirls to another Mog, swiftly
     snapping his neck.
    I’m too paralyzed with fear to move. I know what’s coming. Hilde is about to die.
    My heart screams. I love this woman with all of One’s love.
    Another Mogadorian attacks. Hilde flips him onto his back.
    But this Mog is quicker than the others. He unholsters his blaster and shoots Hilde
     right in her chest.
    Everything goes red. All of One’s anger, shock, and rage at the loss of her Cêpan— my Cêpan—floods my system. No, she can’t, they couldn’t. It’s my fault, I failed, how could I? These are One’s thoughts but I feel them, hear them, as my own. I want her back. I want her back. No no no! Must pay, someone must pay, they must
     pay . Our combined fury rises. They will pay, yes they will pay, we will make them pay .
    And that’s when I feel it. Something ripping open inside of me, something so entirely
     new yet so strangely familiar that it’s almost funny I never noticed it before, that
     it took this crisis for me to notice it. The floors start to shake, a massive rumble
     coming from beneath my feet but also coming from inside me. And as my heart sings— yes, they will pay, they will pay —everything goes black and—
    Shadows. Hands waving in front of my face, fluorescent light burning through the dark.
    I am back in Zakos’s lab. He’s cursing, ripping electrodes from my head, adjusting
     the console I’m plugged into.
    “What happened?” I ask.
    I’m still buzzing from what I’ve just experienced. As chaotic as the memory transfer
     was, as turbulent as it felt, there was something I was on the verge of understanding
     inside it, a promise of something great.
    But now that I’m back, it’s gone.
    “Your vitals were spiking faster than I’d anticipated. If I’d kept going …” He lets
     out another string of curses.
    I sit up in my chair.
    He stares at me. “Are you able to recall anything? Do you have any usable intel I
     can send up the chain?”
    I shake my head.
    Of course I’m lying. Beyond what I just experienced, I already have an intimate knowledge
     of Loric psychology, the relationship between the Garde and their Cêpan. I have the
     entirety of One’s history burned into my brain. I’ve had that ever since the first
     transfer.
    He levels me with his stare. He’s evidently flustered, his hair damp with sweat, but
     that doesn’t make him any less scary.
    “I know it’s in there,” he says.
    I feel a chill at his words.
    “You may not remember it consciously, but