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This is a work of fiction copyright Radical Gopher and may not be duplicated in whole or part without the author's permission. This story contains adult situations and should not be views by anyone under the age of 18.

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THIS WAY MADNESS LIES - part 6

The Director was in a meeting with half a dozen of his department heads when the call came in from Faulkner. After hearing the first two sentences, he immediately had the briefing room cleared so he could talk.

"Where is he now?" the Director asked.

"We're not certain. Both main and back-up power was the first thing he took out. He also damaged our intercom system so reports are only just now coming in. We're using runners throughout most of the complex." Faulkner reported. "Our best guess is he's still in interrogation room 2. I've been told he's sealed the door."

The Director cursed silently to himself for a moment. "How the hell did he find the facility in the first place?"

"We don't know. We checked the Strathern woman before bringing her here. She carried no tracking or signaling device of any kind."

"Is it possible they share some kind of mind link?" the Director asked.

"Even if they did, it would be useless here," the Colonel said. "The whole facility is sheathed with a layer of lead, and we know for a fact it inhibits their telepathic abilities."

"You mean it inhibits the abilities of ‘normal' Kerachaw, don't you? As far as the Boy Scout is concerned, we have no idea what his upper limits are." Both men went silent at the thought. "Okay... It's probable that we miscalculated here," the Director said, "big time. The important thing now is damage control."

"What about the rest of the Directory council."

"You let me worry about that. You focus on getting control of the situation at your end. Do whatever you have to in order to keep the Boy Scout away from the labs."

"I've already sent Aries down there to purge everything. If he does make it that far, he won't find anything... "

"I hope not. Otherwise the best either of us can hope for is a burn notice. Keep that in mind while you get things under lock and key." With that, the Director ended the call.

Faulkner looked at the phone. He had neglected to tell his boss that Cassandra had been in the interrogation room when the Outlander had blasted his way into the complex. He had to assume that by now, the Kerachaw knew everything she did, which meant he already knew about the probe and what was in the labs. His only hope was that he wouldn't have enough time to process the information before Aries had scrubbed the labs. That hope was eliminated moments later when a runner informed him that everyone on level five had been discovered lying unconscious in the hallway.

* * * *

Bob knelt silently in front of the body of his fellow Kerachaw for two or three minutes. When Jillian's repeated calls to him produced no response, she carefully sat at the opening in the plexiglas then dropped the three feet into the autopsy room. Her still healing legs gave out under her and she flopped ungracefully to the floor. Thankfully there was no pain, courtesy of the block that Bob had restored to her mind. She worked her way over to a nearby chair and pulled herself up to her feet. Using it as an impromptu walker, she moved over next to Bob and sat next to him. She reached out and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. It took a minute before the Kerachaw responded to her presence.

"His name was Vor'Taca Delantu," he said softly, his voice tired, his will spent. "If the memories of that woman upstairs are accurate. He and three others crash-landed here about seven months ago. He was the only survivor."

"That was about the same time we met," Jillian observed

Bob nodded. "Yes... I was fully immersed in my healing sleep at the time so I was not aware of their arrival. Agents of the Directory found them and brought them here. Once imprisoned in this place he could not reach out with his mind to search for others of his own kind. They questioned him for weeks. Sometimes they were threatening. Others, they tried to fool him. He saw through it all and refused to cooperate. It wasn't until they started dissecting him while he was still alive that they were able to get anything out of him."

"Oh God! No!" Jillian whispered, appalled by the thought.

The Kerachaw looked sadly at her. He could see in her mind the truth behind her feelings; the candid revulsion at what the Directory had done. "There is much to admire about your people," he said. "Regretfully, there are also things your race has done that are obscene. You are like children... entertaining yourselves by pulling the wings off of butterflies. You don't know what you are doing. Until you can truly understand that, you will not be ready for that which lies beyond your own world."

Bob placed his free hand against the side of her face, feeling her tears as they dampened her cheeks. She, at least, understood. If even one human could, the Outlander thought then eventually they all would.

Standing, he went over to the jars and placed them, one by one on the tray containing the dead Kerachaw's body. When he finished he moved Jillian several feet back. Standing over the body he chanted softly for about a minute, finishing with the line "Kumur afa, doan sula'bey ora Vor'Taca Delantu." He held his staff over the body, allowing the soft glow that emanated from its tip to wash across the tray. Wherever the light touched, the alien form dissolved into dust. A second pass of the staff, and even the dust vanished. The three spheres orbiting the Outlander slowed, then dropped into his free hand. He placed them carefully into a belt pouch.

"What about the other crash victims?" Jillian asked. "Do you know where they're being kept?"

"Nowhere," Bob replied, his voice thick with sorrow. "The bodies were destroyed after the initial autopsy. The Directory didn't want to chance anyone else finding out about the crash."

"There are times I really loathe my fellow man," she observed tensely.

"You shouldn't," the Kerachaw said. "Not every person on earth is responsible for this... only a handful of dishonorable children."

"I don't understand how you can be so calm," Jillian shouted. "Not after seeing what they did here and suffering what they put me through..." She paused, choked by her own anger.

"I am not calm," Bob replied. "I am angry and sickened by all this, but aside from brief moments of weakness, I choose when and how I will display that anger... if at all. All Kerachaw are taught the importance of control from the day of our births. We do not hide our feelings... we channel them... control them. This training is even more intense for those of us chosen to be V'avalun... to be guardians. We wield a tremendous amount of individual power. It cannot be entrusted to just anyone."

Jillian was silent for a moment, and ashamed. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I shouldn't have shouted at you like that."

Bob walked over to her and gently lifted her into his arms, hugging her to himself. She returned the gesture with equal feeling. "It's alright," the Kerachaw said. "You've been through much today. Be patient only a while longer and we can leave."

There was a pounding on the outside door.

"Sounds like we have company," Jillian said.

"It doesn't matter. The doors are fused. By the time they find a way to get in we'll be long gone."

Carrying Jillian, the Outlander climbed back up through the opening in the plexiglas and went back to the computer terminal. Seeing that his gadget had completed its task, he removed it from the keyboard and put it back in one of his belt pouches. He gestured and the floating disc drifted over to him. Stepping on it, he guided it toward the room where the alien vehicle was being examined. Once more he tapped the end of the staff against the window and it dissolved into powder. A slight pressure difference caused a puff of air to wash across both he and Jillian, ruffling his fur and her hair.

The Kerachaw drifted slowly down into the room. He stepped off the disc and once more deposited Jillian in a chair. What remained of the ship had pretty much been disassembled and stored on row upon row of shelves. Most of its internal components were fused and melted. Some however appeared to be in reasonably good shape. A few sat on workbenches where technicians had obviously been trying to reverse engineer them without understanding their purpose. .

"They are very lucky," Bob commented as he strode over to something approximately the size of an SUV. "They couldn't figure out how to crack the shell on this unit and get at its internal systems. If they had, they might have vaporized everything from here to..." he paused for a moment, uncertain of a clear reference point. "...Hell and back," he finished

"If it's that dangerous, we can't leave anything for them to play with. It'd be like giving a book of matches to a ten-year old."

"Worse," Bob replied dryly. He removed the small sphere that he had hacked the computer with from its pouch. Holding it up, he released it to float about half a meter in front of him. The device projected a small screen into the open air and quickly began scrolling through a number of images.

"What are you doing?" Jillian asked. There were another sharp series of bangs against the lab door.

"I'm checking their inventory. I want to make sure that everything they removed from the ship is still on site."

"Why?"

"Will, my little... gizmo... here has already purged their mainframe and uploaded a tapeworm that will take out any data related to this ship and its occupants. Now all I need to do is purge the facility."

"Purge... you mean destroy the base?"

"Not the whole of Area 51... Just the Directory's portion of it."

"Is that where we are?" Jillian asked. Bob simply nodded in response. "What about the people here?" she inquired worriedly.

Bob looked at her. "I'm glad you've gotten over your anger at mankind."

"Maybe it wasn't anger so much," she replied, "as it was disappointment. I'd like to have believe we'd grown out of this kind of behavior."

"And your people will, as long as there are more like you out there," Bob replied The gadget suddenly beeped at him and he returned his attention to the display. "It looks like everything is still here, including..." He stopped and starred at the images before him. "Royka?" he said. Jillian recognized it as the Kerachaw word for where. The sphere beeped twice and changed images on the screen. He studied it for a moment then strode purposefully over to the far wall of the room. He raised his staff once more and tapped it against the wall. An opening appeared which the Outlander quickly stepped through.

"Bob? What wrong? Where are you going?"

He reappeared a minute later carrying a large, ten-foot long black cylinder on one shoulder. This he set carefully down before returning to the SUV-sized component. Jillian watched as he placed his hand against a panel on the side of the device, then ran his thumb along the panel's seam. It slid back revealing a keypad with a group of alien characters on it. The Kerachaw touched these several times, imputing a series of commands. When he finished, the panel slid shut.

Snatching up the floating sphere, he tucked it back into his belt while at the same time removing two of the spheres that had been orbiting him. He studied them for a moment and Jillian watched as they floated over to the large, black cylinder and began rapidly circling it. A blue glow surrounded it and the cylinder gently rose off the floor and began following him around the chamber.

Bob lifted Jillian out of the chair then paused, closing his eyes in concentration. Moments later she heard his voice in her head, clear, strong and commandingly resonant.

"THIS IS THE ONE YOU CALL THE OUTLANDER... YOU HAVE PRECISELY THIRTY MINUTES TO EVACUATE THE FACILITY. ANY WHO CHOSE TO REMAIN WILL NOT BE ALIVE LONG ENOUGH TO REGRET THEIR DECISION! THIS IS YOUR FIRST... AND ONLY WARNING!"

Bob looked down at Jillian as he stepped up on the flying disc. "Ready to go home?"

"What about him?" she asked, pointing over at the Russian interrogator who had helped torture her. He still lay unconscious on the floor where the Kerachaw had left him.

"I thought that after what he did, you felt he didn't deserve to live?"

"Just because I might want him dead," Jillian sighed heavily, "does not mean I want him to die."

Bob looked at her for a moment, slightly confused. Then he smiled in a quirky sort of way. "Has anyone ever told you how contrary you can be?"

"I'm not contrary... just complex," she replied.

Bob nodded. He took out a third sphere and released it. It drifted over to the Russian and began circling above him. He too was quickly enveloped by a blue glow and rose off the floor, drifting over to the Outlander. The Kerachaw raised the staff above his head. A stream of blue energy lanced upward, striking the ceiling above then punching its way through four additional levels before reaching the surface. Stars winked distantly through the hole it left behind.

Slowly at first, the disc lifted itself toward the night sky, accelerating rapidly once it reached the surface. Trailing behind were the Russian and the long, black cylinder. Jillian looked down to see dozens of people pouring out of the underground facility. Bob could be very persuasive, when he wanted to be. They traveled westward about fifty miles before dropping the still unconscious Russian off in the parking lot of a remote, Nevada brothel. Changing trajectory, the Kerachaw guided them back toward home.

* * * *

An hour later, Colonel Faulkner stood at the edge of a perfectly smooth crater about five hundred yards across and three hundred deep. All of the Directory's personnel had gotten out thanks to the Outland's warning, but that was the total extent of the good news. The facility's I.T. manager had moments before, informed him that even though the mainframe had survived the attack, thanks to its isolation from the rest of the base, it had been hacked and purged.

As he starred into the abyss, Faulkner felt a presence behind him. He turned, half expecting it to be the alien. Instead, he found himself looking into the irate face of an Air Force Major General. Behind him stood a squad of heavily armed security personnel.

"Mr. Faulkner?" he asked gruffly.

"Yes, General."

"I've been informed by your personnel here you're the one in charge of this FUBAR of a situation!"

"Yes," the Colonel replied tiredly. "I suppose I am."

"Good," the General replied. "Then I assume you're the man who can tell me what the goddamn hell you've been doing to MY top secret base and what kind of fucked up operation you're running here!"

The ringing of a cell phone interrupted the base commander's tirade. "Hold that thought for a moment, sir, and I might just be able to give you an answer." He flipped open the phone. As expected, it was the Director.

"Faulkner... What's happening? What the hell did you do?"

"Is something wrong," the Colonel asked.

"WRONG! EVERYTHING"S WRONG... WE'RE FUCKED!"

"I don't understand, sir. We still don't have communications out here. What's going on?"

"We're all over the fucking Internet; names, places, associates, funding sources, operations, everything; including evidence of our alien autopsy. Everyone knows... even the President of the United States! We're not coming back from this. What happened?"

The Colonel didn't answer... lowering the phone from his ear and looking at it.

"Faulkner... Faulkner? Are you still there, Dammit? FAULK..."

The Colonel closed the phone; cutting off his boss in mid sentence. He casually tossed it into the hole behind him. He looked at the General. "Do you have any Judge Advocate lawyers on your staff, sir?

"I might have one or two," the base commander answered warily. "Why?"

"Because I'd like to make a formal statement."

* * * *

Jillian lay face down on the makeshift examination table as Bob slowly and carefully worked her left ankle. "How does that feel now?"

"Better," she replied. "I don't feel the clicking any more."

"You shouldn't. The nanites have pretty much completed their healing cycle." He let go of her foot. "Try rotating it on your own," he instructed. She did, moving her foot in a slow circle.

"It's not locking up any more," she reported, chuckling.

"Is something funny?"

"I was just thinking that back in the day you would have made a pretty fair horse doctor."

"Why... because I'm an evolved equine or because you like it when we play doctor?" he asked. "And what is this expression...back in the day?"

"It refers to times past, like the old west. Most small town doctors back then often pulled double duty, treating both humans and horses because they were such an important part of day to day life."

"Which ones? The humans or the horses?" Bob asked playfully.

Jillian rolled onto her back and stuck her tongue out at the Kerachaw. Bob responded by picking her up and tossing her across his shoulder and walked toward their bathing chamber just off the main hanger..

"Examination's over. It's time you soaked your legs in the tub."

"I'm not taking another bath unless you join me," Jillian replied. "I mean it. You can't get me anywhere near the tub unless.... EEEEEEEE!"

There was a splash as the alien equine gently tossed her into the huge jacuzzi style bath. She resurfaced a moment later sputtering as Bob pulled his clothes off and sedately climbed in after her.

Jillian retaliated, tossing a sponge at him, but he caught it telekinetically in mid-flight, then held it over her head and wrung it out, leaving a thin trail of soapy water running through her hair. Sighing contentedly, the Human leaned against the Kerachaw.

It had been almost a week since their escape from the Directory and things were pretty much in flux. Washington D.C. was still reeling from the revelation of a covert operations unit that had cells not only in the CIA, FBI and the DEA, but in MI-6, the Mossad and even Al-Qaeda as well. Faulkner was under military guard in some undisclosed location, and every police or security agency both inside and outside the country was turning itself inside out searching for connections to the Directory.

Publicly, no one knew who the Internet whistle-blower was, but behind closed doors it was a different story. Many government leaders knew, and as a result a general laisse-faire policy was being adopted vis-Ã -vis the Outlander. It helped that in the last week, Bob had helped save lives during two different disasters. The alien autopsy reports had even garnered sympathy for him and his lost people. If any more Kerachaw happened to reach Earth, their reception would be quite different than Vor'Taca Delantu's

"You know," Jillian said gently running her hand across Bob's chest, "you still haven't told me what that cylinder you brought back was for."

"No... I haven't," he replied. He looked down into her green eyes and felt his initial resolve soften. "I've been thinking on that, and I believe it's time you knew." He gently reached down and lifted her hand from his chest, touching it softly against a glowing blue spot in the center of his forehead... CONTACT!

Jillian found herself standing in a pasture of the mind-world both she and Bob called the outland. A soft cloud of flower petals gently whipped around her in a fragrant whirlwind. Her form shifted to that of a female Kerachaw. She looked around and spotted Bob standing on a small, grass-covered knoll not far away. He was looking down at something hidden in the tall grass.

Jillian gracefully glided up the hill, for anything she could imagine was possible here. She landed slightly behind the Outlander and peeked around him. There, lying on the grass in front of her was the figure of a young, female Kerachaw child. Judging by her state of development, the human figured that she was roughly equivalent in age to a 12-year-old human.

"Who is she?" asked Jillian, looking down at the sleeping figure.

Bob looked at her. "She is who Vor'Taca Delantu was struggling to protect from Colonel Faulkner. When asked about the cylinder, he lied... convincing the Directory people with a combination of half-truths and misinformation that it was part of the ship's drive system. He had them believing it couldn't be opened without risking an explosion that would wipe out half the country. They never knew that she was inside."

"A suspended animation chamber? It that what the cylinder is?"

"Yes," the Kerachaw replied, taking Jillian's hand in his. "It should open in about three month's time. It was originally set for a fourteen-month sleep cycle, as measured here on Earth. We can use that three months to prepare."

"Prepare?" Jillian asked.

"Yes," Bob replied, resting his head against hers and smiling, "for the awakening of our new daughter."