This Way Madness Lies - Chapter 2
#5 of Tales of the Outlander
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.
_____________________________________________________________________________
THIS WAY MADNESS LIES - part 2
Faulkner reached the operations center within three minutes. "Where is Solomon now?" he asked.
"Signal origin appears to be his apartment off Park Avenue, this city," the operator replied. "Do you wish to dispatch a response team?"
"No," the colonel replied. "Is his apartment rigged?"
"Yes sir," she nodded, "as per standard protocol."
"Then why haven't you activated the remote cameras yet?"
"Sir... Solomon holds a class 4 rating. I can only initiate monitoring with the approval of a class 3 supervisor or higher."
Faulkner took a deep breath, suppressing his desire to chew out the operator. It wasn't her fault she was trained to follow a specific procedure. Initiative within class 6 personnel and lower was strongly discouraged; something he wished could be changed. Shaking his head he looked down at the systems operator. "Activate remote monitoring, authorization, Zulu one-five."
The systems operator responded without hesitation, flipping several switches. A line of three monitors on her panel lit up and quickly came into focus. They revealed the interior of a Fifth Avenue apartment. The cameras went into scan mode and began swinging slowly back and forth. The only movement that could be detected was the billowing of a balcony curtain. The apartment was empty,.
"What's that?" Faulkner asked, spotting something.
The operator flicked another switch and rapidly zoomed in on the couch. A small key chain with about half-a-dozen keys attached lay in the center of the picture. The small crystal ornament on the end of it pulsed with a soft, amber light
Seeing it, Colonel Faulkner cursed silently. "Dispatch a response team to investigate. Also start patching into as many nearby surveillance systems as you can. He couldn't have gone too far. I want to know where Solomon is, and now."
* * * *
"Well," Jillian observed, stepping down off the Outlander's flying disc and onto the hotel roof, "That could have gone better."
"How so?" asked the Kerachaw. "We have the information we wanted and then some."
"Yes... but when Colonel Faulkner and his friends find Archbury, catatonic or not, they'll suspect you were involved. It has your fingerprints all over it."
"Fingerprints?' he said, looking at the hard, hoof-like material that covered the tips of his thumb and fingers. "I don't have fingerprints."
"It was a figure of speech," Jillian replied patiently as she opened the roof access door. "They'll know it was you because of your M.O... your method of operation."
"Ah... you mean my Modus Operandi," Bob replied, shifting into a somewhat didactic speaking mode. "The term used in law enforcement to describe a criminal's characteristic patterns and style of committing crimes or their behavior patterns that indicate specific types of fraud." He paused and looked at Jillian. "Is what we are doing a criminal or fraudulent act?"
"Well...we did take Archbury from his apartment building then left him in the lobby of that homeless center. That could be considered kidnapping."
The Kerachaw stepped off the floating disc and gestured with his hand. The device shrank to approximately one tenth its original size. Grabbing it, he then tucked it away in a small pocket within his robe. "I thought that kidnapping involved taking someone against their will and by force. He was happy to come with us."
"Only after you implanted the suggestion in his mind," Jillian countered. "Some people might not believe that to be kosher."
"Would it have been any more pickle to have sat there and waited until his ‘friends' showed up?"
"Pickle?"
Bob looked down at his partner, his face a mirror of her own confusion. "I didn't get that right... did I." He sighed. "There are times the nuances of your language are disjointed to say the least."
Jillian chuckled softly, reaching up to gently brush his cheek. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Personally, I think your gaffes are quite charming. They enhance a certain quality of innocence you have."
"Don't you mean ignorance?"
"If I meant ignorance, I would have said ignorance," she chided him, heading for the rooftop door. "I don't know about you, but I could do with a shower and a chance to relax."
They silently made their way down the stairway to the fourteenth floor and into their room. While by no means small, the presence of the Outlander seemed to crowd out any sense of spaciousness. Jillian drew the curtains then turned on the lights. Bob sat on one of the double beds and closed his eyes; slipping quietly into a meditative state.
The young woman smiled, somewhat envious of the ease with which the Kerachaw was able to relax. She quietly stripped out of her clothing and went into the bathroom. She came out an hour later dressed in a powder blue bathrobe; having showered, shampooed and shaved her legs, under-arms and trimmed other, more ‘personal' portions of her anatomy. Bob was still sitting at the edge of the bed, relaxed and alert. A small blue glow emanated from the center of his forehead.
Climbing on the bed, she knelt behind the alien equine and leaned up against his back, wrapping one arm halfway around his massive chest and resting her head on his shoulder. With her other hand she reached up and brushed it against the blue glow.
CONTACT....
The hotel room vanished, replaced by a snow-white mist. The air was cool, but not cold, and scented with the fragrance of pine and cedar. Jillian looked down at herself. As always when she entered the Kerachaw's mind she was naked. Clothing meant nothing here. She took an imagined breath and focused. Her body seemed to flow like water and within moments was replaced by the tall, lithe figure of a female Kerachaw with cream-colored fur and a chestnut mane. Looking at herself, she decided to be a little more playful. Her fur shifted to pure white and her mane took on a red hue. Her hooves and fingertips became ebon. Turning her head and torso slightly, she looked back at her rump; something a Kerachaw could do that a human couldn't. The small, tuft tail, common with Bob's species, blossomed into a long, flowing, silky horse's tail that reached down to her ankles. It matched the color of her mane perfectly.
Smiling in satisfaction, Jillian walked into the white mist, brushing it aside with the back of her three-fingered hand. It retreated before her, drawing back like a curtain to reveal a large, open glade filled with soft, wild grass, flowers and a small, clear brook. This was their place... their hidden world into which none but she and Bob could journey. His telepathic skills, combined with her imagination, made this secret meadow, this outland, possible. Here they could share intimate moments without fear of their physical incompatibility. Here it did not matter if he were Kerachaw and she Human, here they could love and grow closer than any two other beings on Earth. It was a world without substance, existing only within their own, shared consciousness. Even so it "felt" as real as anything to be found in reality. Every sensation, every scent and texture were as real to them here as in the real world.
"I thought you wanted to get some sleep?" came a soft, strong voice drifting on the wind."
Jillian smiled. "I said I wanted to relax... I didn't say anything about sleep," she thought back.
She searched the glade, looking for Bob, but he was nowhere to be seen. Tall, thick grass brushed against her thigh and she slowly circled, searching for his hiding place. Taking a backward step, she suddenly found herself tumbling hoof over head. However instead of landing against hard, unyielding earth, she plopped ungracefully into Bob's lap.
"You know, my people pride themselves on having a certain grace to their movements," he chuckled teasingly.
"Prove it," Jillian responded. She reached a hand up behind the Kerachaw's head, threading her fingers through his mane as she pulled him forward and planted a long, deep kiss on his lips. He returned it with equal passion, pulling her atop him and wrapping his arms around her. His fingers traveled slowly up and down her back, ruffling her fur and massaging her at the same time.
To Jillian, the feelings were incredible. The sensory input Bob provided extended even as far as being able to feel the movement of fur being rumpled and smoothed out again. She had never felt anything like it before and she liked it.
Bob's fingers traveled down her back and brushed through the fur along her hindquarters. When they reached her modified tail he paused for a moment and looked. "A horse's tail?" he chided gently, chuckling. "My dear miss monkey, we may have evolved from a lower life form, but it looked nothing like your earth horses."
"Who are you calling a monkey?"
"You... monkey face," he replied, his eyes sparkled mischievously.
"I have about as much to do with monkeys as you do horses."
"My point precisely." Bob cupped his hands around Jillian rear and pushed up until her breasts were level with his mouth. He began massaging her nipples with his prehensile lips, suckling and kneading them vigorously.
Jillian shuddered. "OH GAWD! What are you DOING?"
The Outlander spoke into her mind so that he didn't have to remove his lips from her breast. "I've made a slight sensory adjustment to our shared mind-world. The female of my species has several, very sensitive erogenous zones, not dissimilar to humans, but much, much more sensitive. This is one of them. I've increased the level and degree of stimulation you feel when you, what's the word... cosplay... a Kerachaw in here. You like?" He nipped softly at a swollen nipple.
Jillian took a long shuddering breath as one pleasurable jolt after another traveled through her body. "OOOH, Yes! Yes I like it, a lot!"
Bob chuckled. "It's not unusual for a female Kerachaw to experience an orgasm or three when nursing. That's why they tend to breast-feed in private." As he talked his hand crawled up to the base of her tail. "There's another sensitive spot right here," he said, curling his thick fingers along the underside of her tail, brushing at it.
Jillian moaned loudly. Her body spasmed and she found herself involuntarily raising her ass to meet his hands.
Bob massaged her there as she nickered and bucked against him. He ran one hand through the long, silken strands of her tail, smiling at their softness and tugging gently on them, adding to her pleasure. "Of course," he whispered into her mind, "this is the most sensitive part of a female Kerachaw's body." One hand moved up the inside of her thighs and brushed the folds of her sex.
Jillian's voice caught in her throat, paralyzed by the intensity of the sensations washing across her. She was certain she'd never felt anything this powerful, this wonderful before. Reaching down she grabbed Bob's hand and guided his finders deep into her. He responded by massaging the inside of her walls. It was almost as if her entire passage was one, continuous g-spot. She began writhing against him as wave upon wave of sensation ripped through her body. He literally played her like a musical instrument; stroking, kneading and suckling her right to the edge, then holding her there as her body tremored for release.
Jillian could feel Bob's massive penis as it brushed her leg. Pushing firmly against his chest he forced his mouth away from her breasts and slid down until she could feel him poised at the entrance to sex. He moved his hand aside allowing her to slide down his shaft in one, swift, flowing movement. Were this the real world, she would have just torn and ruptured herself. Here, though, within their shared mind-world, they were compatible..
She brought her head level with his and kissed him, long, hard and deep. She could feel him within the back of her mind as he could feel her, sharing and building on each other's sensations. She reached around Bob, pulling herself into him and grasping the base of his tail even as he stroked hers. Unlike humans, the Kerachaw did not thrust themselves together. Instead they could feel each other pulsing, more and more intensely as their minds and bodies drew together, creating a silent, feedback loop. Bob's shaft thickened, stretching Jillian even as she involuntarily began squeezing against him.
Already held at the edge for longer than she could imagine, she now felt Bob's mind as he shuddered against her. She broke their kiss and lay her head against his shoulder. "Now...OHHH Please.... NOW! NOW!"
Bob trembled with his own unfulfilled need, then whispered one, soft word... "Yes."
They each let out a silent scream of passion as they writhed together, shivering and shaking. Every real-world sensation was there, including the hot flood of golden seed that filled and overflowed her womb. Desperately Jillian clung to the Outlander as they both crested the wave and rode it to fulfillment. She could feel his mind, more deeply wrapped together with hers than ever before. A warm glow filled her and she gently pulled away to gaze into Bob's eyes. They mirrored her own and were filled with a depth of love she had never known before meeting the alien. They both smiled, then lay down together in the tall grass, their bodies melting together into a soft, warm gel as the world around them faded and their conscious minds drifted off into sleep.
* * * *
Colonel Faulkner sat at one end of the conference table eyes closed as he listened to the latest report. The briefer, a young, up and coming intelligence analyst flipped between several pages on a clipboard. Definitely old school, but it seemed to work quite well for him
"We were unable to obtain any surveillance footage showing exactly where or how Solomon was taken from his apartment. There appears to be no witnesses and our data from the apartment monitoring system has thus far produced no identifiable suspect."
Faulkner opened his eyes. "What about Solomon himself?"
The briefer flipped to yet another page, the paper producing an almost soothing sound as it crinkled. "Our response team found him about two miles from his home, at a homeless shelter off Hell's Kitchen. The doctor reports that he appears to be in some kind of coma, though he cannot find evidence of any physical trauma that would have caused it. He is currently doing a blood work-up to determine if it's chemically induced. He should have a report back on that within the hour."
"Has the doctor considered alternative causes, aside from anything chemical or physiological?"
"Not to my knowledge," the young man responded. "I can ask him if you'd like, sir."
Faulkner shook his head. "Don't bother... just tell the doctor I want him to consult with Professor Harris in Psi-warfare. He might be able to suggest several alternatives."
"Yes sir," the analyst replied
The colonel looked up at the young man. "Anything more to add?"
"No sir... that's all I have for now. We should be able to provide more information by the zero six hundred briefing."
"I don't want information, Carter... I want some answers."
"Yes sir... I'll see what else can be turned up as soon as possible." With that, the young man came to attention, turned, and briskly exited the conference room.
Faulkner looked over at the Director. The only other person in the room, he had sat quietly throughout the briefing, listening as the Colonel asked all the questions.
"This is not good," the director observed calmly. "Solomon knows entirely too much about our funding, resources and disbursement protocols. Whoever kidnapped him had to somehow know he was working with us..." He abruptly looked up. "You don't suppose..."
"I don't suppose anything, sir... It's got to be HIM!"
"What makes you so certain?"
"We know he was responsible for destroying Inkuba's operations. After our last conversation I had one of my sharper analysts do a back trace along the colonel's distribution chain. It seems there were a number of incidents going back several weeks where our Boy Scout was responsible for shutting down a series of drug labs, warehouses and smuggling routes."
The director pulled out a cigar and casually lit it after biting the end off. Faulkner noticed he fumbled slightly with his lighter "It sounds like he was climbing the food chain, so to speak... Go on!"
"Once Inkuba was out of the picture, that should have been the end of it. He was the source of the drugs."
"So why didn't he stop there?" the director asked, he paused for a moment wrinkling his nose. The cigar was doing nothing to help calm his nerves. He impatiently crushed it out in a nearby ashtray. "The question is...what the hell did he get from Inkuba that put a knot in his tail?"
"That's what we've been wondering. The sad fact is that if you continue up the chain, the next link is Charlie Rose."
"Which is a dead end... right?"
"So we believed. Somehow; our Boy Scout jumped the chain from Inkuba straight to Solomon. I think Rose let something slip, either about himself, Solomon or maybe even us that the Outlander was able to lock onto."
"You still haven't told me why you think he's behind Solomon's kidnapping."
Faulkner paused for a second, looking his boss in the eyes. "In our business, if it were anyone BUT him, Solomon would be dead now!"
The director nodded. "You have a point."
"If I may speculate for a moment."
"Go ahead... It's not as if things are wild enough with an alien horse complicating my life."
Faulkner suppressed a grim smile and continued "Charlie was a damned good operative, so good he had his fingers on several of our more important projects. One of them was Traveler..."
"You think Rose told Colonel Inkuba something about the Outlander?"
"If he did... we may well have to arrange a meeting with him. A meeting on our terms."
"With who... Inkuba?"
"No sir... with the Outlander."
TO BE CONTINUED...