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Throughout the meal Yolaja sat quietly as she ate. She had replaced her armor with a simple toga that Bob had cobbled together from a bed sheet and several large safety pins. She wore the blue torc Jillian had seen when in her mind. The girl appeared perfectly comfortable, speaking volumes about her maturity and cultural norms. The major exception to this was the visor which allowed her to see the surrounding world.

Physically she was nearly identical to Bob in form except for her smaller size and obvious female traits, which were not too different from human. Her body fur was light tan and white, resembling something like a palomino horse. Her mane was a dark, reddish brown and her eyes, without the visor, were a washed-out green color. Jillian could tell this was due to the damage done to her vision. Having turned off the collar, Jillian could hear and understand small snippets of conversation between Yolaja and Bob.

Finishing her second helping of chicken stew the youngling leaned back in her chair and gave a satisfied nicker. She looked up at the human. “T'at was t'e best meal I have ate, excuse me, eaten in a long time Doctor Strat'ern."

Jillian could feel the youngling gently probing her surface thoughts for just the right thing to say. “You're most welcome Yolaja, and, by the way, you may call me Jillian. Dr. Strathern sounds way too formal under the circumstances."

The youngling smiled momentarily then looked up at Bob. The older Kerachaw nodded. “Not bad for a first try. Just remember not to go too deep with your telepathy. You could give Jillian, or any human for that matter, a headache."

“Headache?"

“An uncontrolled firing of pain receptors in the brain. Unlike us, they haven't mastered the skill needed to block selected receptors."

“Oh," she responded. “What causes a… headache?"

“Physical, emotional or mental stress… Overloading of sensory inputs such as the eyes… Sometimes it's caused by excessive consumption of alcohol."

“Wait? Your people consume alcohol?" Yolaja asked looking up at Jillian. “I t'ought t'at was a poison?"

“It is," the human admitted. “But in moderate amounts the harmful effects are almost negligible. The majority of us use it more in social settings, or with meals to enhance the taste of certain foods."

“Humans have been drinking alcoholic beverages for the last thirteen-thousand years," Bob added. “As a matter of fact, some of their own historians think the reason they settled down and started building cities was so they could grow and ferment certain grains, rather than wander randomly as a hunter-gatherer species."

Yolaja, pursed her lips in thought. “So how long is t'irteen t'ousand years in t'e Kerachaw time?"

“Nine thousand, four hundred Ona, give or take a century or two," Bob replied.

“So t'eir civilization is t'e same age as ours? Why are t'ey not as advanced as us."

“Less unity between our peoples," offered Jillian. “Not having telepathy, we tend to be more isolated from each other. This led to the rapid growth and collapse of various human civilizations, along with the loss of knowledge that would accompany each collapse. Sometimes competition between different groups of humans led to misunderstandings and war which aided in these collapses. In fact, it wasn't until the development of the printing press that our knowledge base could survive beyond the society or civilization it represented."

“When you add in an instinctive distrust for other groups of humans with different cultures, languages and beliefs, it was, and is, difficult for them to work together," Bob added. “Unified action, even against common threats, is difficult to achieve.

“We're also dealing with an innate aggressiveness that makes us want to fight against whatever is perceived as a threat. Our First and Second World Wars are modern day examples of that," the human said. “We still haven't worked out all the causes of those events."

“Maybe it was t'e alcohol you consumed?" Yolaja offered.

Jillian dropped her fork onto the plate, grabbed a napkin and held it over her mouth for a moment before exploding into a crescendo of laughter.

The youngling looked up at her uncle, worry lining her muzzle. “Is she having a headache? Did I go too deep into her t'oughts?"

Bob smiled and shook his head. “No. She's just laughing. Humans do that from time to time. It's their way of dealing with o'kacha."

Yolaja looked over at Jillian. “T'at noise is loud and annoying," the youngling observed. “No wonder t'ey have a hard time relating with each ot'er."

“Don't worry," her uncle responded. “You'll get used to it."

Jillian eventually got control of her laughing and grinned at the youngling. “Sorry… I hope I didn't startle you."

“Not too much," Yolaja replied. “Sometimes we need to give into our o'kacha, if we are going to stay sane."

The human nodded. “It's better to release tension through humor rather than anger or fear. It builds character instead of tearing it down."

“Character? Like a person in a story?"

“As in a basic core set of beliefs, principles or values that guide our interactions with others and establish who we are as individuals."

“Humans like to call those things crickets," Bob added.

“Crickets?" both Jillian and Yolaja asked. For a moment the image of a small green insect dressed in a frock coat, top hat, vest, gloves and holding a small, folded umbrella popped into the human's mind. For her part, Yolaja looked confused.

“I do not understand."

“Your uncle is confusing popular culture with sociology," Jillian explained.

Bob looked at the human. “Now I'm confused. Isn't this image a representation of the balance between right and wrong?"

“You're not wrong. But he's a character from a fantasy story. He acts as a sort of conscience for the main character."

“So t'e insect is a character t'at teaches character to ot'er characters?" Yolaja asked. “T'at makes no sense. You used t'e same word two different ways."

“It's advanced English," Jillian said. “We call a word with the same spelling and pronunciation, but a different meaning a homograph. If it has the same pronunciation but a different spelling and meaning it's a…"

“Homonym," Yolaja interjected excitedly.

“You read my mind," the human chuckled.

“I could not help it. You are projecting a lot of ideas right now… synonyms, antonyms,

Jillian smiled. “Don't worry about it too much. Between your telepathy and my English minor, you'll be speaking like a human in no time."

“You make that sound like a good thing," Bob jibbed, a small grin framing his mouth.

“Oh hush, or you won't get any dessert."

“Dessert?" Yolaja asked.

“Bread pudding with apples, raisins and cinnamon."

“What is t'at?" the youngling asked.

The older Kerachaw looked at her. “Only one of the finest culinary creations this world has to offer."

“Sounds… interesting?"

“I never met an equine that could resist it," Jillian replied.

Bob opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the sound of a loud buzzer coming from his command console in the hangar. Rising from the table he strode purposefully out of the living quarters and crossed over to the elevated platform that took up nearly a fifth of the large open space. He was followed by both Jillian and Yolaja.

Stopping before the console he waved his hand, and a virtual control board projected itself in front of him. Two of the monitors came to life and spat out a series of symbols and numbers which the Kerachaw scanned through.

“What is it?" Jillian asked.

“A British submarine is reported down in the South Atlantic, not far from the Falkland Islands. Luckily, the authorities know where it is. Their problem is it will take more than 72 hours to get resources on site for a rescue. The surviving crew doesn't have that much time.

“Is there anything you can do?"

“For the submarine… no. But I can get the crew out, if I work quickly."

Jillian nodded. “Then do it, and don't let any of those admirals or military types get in your way."

Bob nodded tightly. Striding across the hangar he entered his spaceship. Within a matter of minutes, he reappeared, carrying a staff, a three-foot-wide disc, and wearing a black tunic with an equipment belt around his waist. He pulled several small metallic spheres out of one pouch and set them circling about him. Yolaja could feel the energy they generated as her fur stood out slightly.

The Kerachaw reached out and hugged Jillian. “This shouldn't take long." He reached out and ruffled the youngling's mane. “I'll be back."

“Make sure you tell us all about it," Yolaja admonished.

The Outlander smiled at her, then dropped the disc to the floor and stood upon it. It rose into the air and within moments he was skimming out their hangar's main entrance and was away.

“I wish t'ere was somet'ing I could do to help."

“You and me both, kid."

The youngling frowned slightly. “Since when did I start looking like a baby goat?" Even as she said that she suddenly realized that Jillian had activated her thought suppression collar. This confused the alien for a moment, until she looked into Dr. Strathern's eyes. Lines of worry flashed momentarily across the human's face and Yolaja had the vague feeling the older woman had done it to hide her fears for Bob's safety. This was confirmed when Jillian realized the youngling was studying her expression.

“I have a nice, spiced tea that goes quite well with bread pudding," the human said, trying to brighten up her voice. “If you're in the mood to try some, that is."

“Tea?"

“A small plant, the leaves of which are brewed in hot water with other ingredients to make a flavored drink."

“Should we not wait until Uncle's return?"

Jillian shrugged. “We could, but I have a feeling he's going to be gone for quite a while. Under the circumstances, this might be a good opportunity to engage is some old-fashioned girl talk…"

“You are just trying to distract me," the youngling replied.

“Actually, I'm trying to distract both of us," the human said with a wry grin.

Yolaja smiled as both Jillian and she went into the kitchen to brew tea.

* * * *

Pushing his disc, it took the Kerachaw about two hours to reach the scene of disaster. It

wasn't difficult to find the small Dutch destroyer holding station above the imperiled submarine. He hovered about fifty feet above the ocean and removed yet another small sphere from his belt. Bob held it out from himself, then dropped it into the sea. As he did, the alien noticed the nearby warship aim a gun in his direction.

Bob reached out with his telepathy and quickly focused on the ship's captain. “Hold your fire… I am here to help."

The middle-aged officer grimaced at the suddenly intrusive thoughts of the alien. “This is a restricted military operational area. Your presence is not authorized."

“But it is needed," the Kerachaw responded.

“What do you think you can accomplish here that we can't?" came the captain's annoyed thoughts."

Bob shrugged. “Watch and learn," he projected back. A blue shield abruptly wrapped itself around the alien's form and he dropped quietly into the water.

Descending to about three-hundred twenty meters, the Kerachaw followed the signals of his tracking sphere to a point about half a mile southwest of the destroyer's position. The British submarine was resting firmly on a ledge at a fifteen-degree angle from its keel. Data from his probe showed a tear in the vessel's hull approximately where the engine room would be located. The hull was heavily dented around the gash with portions of another submarine's periscope and mast structure imbedded in the breech. The power plant had shut down, but there was no indication of damage in and around the reactor compartment and no radioactivity.

The engineering spaces aft were flooded and Bob was able to identify fourteen bodies located there. Scans showed the rest of the crew, about 55 people, were alive in the forward compartments near the control room. There was power from a bank of emergency batteries, but not enough to maintain the air scrubbers for more than thirty hours.

The Kerachaw could feel the water pressure pushing against his force field, so he activated his own nanite armor as an additional precaution. Silver metal flowed outward from his body and encased him in a protective, form-fitting shell.

Focusing, he reached across the depths and telepathically connected his mind with that of the submarine's commander. After identifying himself, he outlined what he planned to do and easily convinced the captain to follow his instructions. Within fifteen minutes all but seven members of the crew had assembled at the forward escape hatch. When ready, the Kerachaw extended a second, larger force field around the hatch exterior. In a supreme act of trust in the alien, one sailor cracked open the hatch and climbed through into the energy bubble. There was a brief, unhurried shuffle as he was followed by his fellow crewmembers. The last man through closed the hatch and used a wrench to bang on it three times to signal it was secured.

Bob carefully detached the energy bubble from the sub's hull, making sure the internal pressure was the same as in the submarine. It took about ten minutes to reach the surface. Once there, the Kerachaw brought the energy field over to the nearby destroyer and deposited the submarine's crew onto the ship's helicopter deck.

Returning to the disabled sub, the Kerachaw used his energy field to retrieve the bodies of those who had died. He encapsulated each in a separate bubble. He then went back to the escape hatch and communicated with the boat's commander. He created another energy field, allowing the last seven survivors to exit the submarine. Each carried several canvas bags containing security documents. The last one out was the captain. He closed the hatch behind him, saluted the vessel, and then sat tiredly with the others. His face was a strange combination of relief and resignation. Having read his mind, the alien understood his feelings and respected his dedication to ensuring he was the last one to leave his ship.

In minutes, the Kerachaw was back on the surface, carefully placing the deceased members of the crew on the fantail along with the last survivors. He then drifted about six thousand yards off the ship's starboard quarter. The Dutch captain tried calling to Bob using a bullhorn but was ignored. Again, the alien dropped into the sea.

There was a long pause of several minutes. Then the ocean began churning near the spot where the Kerachaw had disappeared. This lasted for about a minute. To the surprise of all a Russian submarine abruptly breeched the surface. Its sail was heavily damaged but had remained unflooded. The Russian captain and several of his men came out on deck. He was thoroughly confused as to what had made him order the emergency ballast system activated.

He looked over at the Kerachaw who had approached his vessel. They communicated silently, after which the Russian willingly accompanied him across to the Dutch destroyer. He was set down on the deck next to the other captains.

Bob looked at the three men, “I suggest you discuss what happened here and come to some mutual understanding. I've gone as far as I can. The rest of this is up to you." With that, the Outlander rose into the sky and quickly vanished from sight.

* * * *

“And that was all you said to them?" Jillian asked a few hours later.

“I don't believe there was anything for me to say," Bob replied. “From what I understood of their thoughts, this was an accident. Caused more from neglect and poor judgement than anything else."

The human shrugged. “Perhaps… It will take a couple of days for the media to get wind of what happened. We'll see how the three governments respond."

“If the media ever does get wind of it. You know better than I how politicians and military leaders think. They may simply choose to ignore each other's grievances and carry on as normal."

Dr. Strathern chuckled. “That depends on your definition of normal."

“What I do not understand is if t'e whole t'ing was an accident, how might it create o'katcha…?"

Jillian sighed. “It's all part of what you call human politics. Relations between the three countries involved are not what you'd call the most… cordial."

Bob looked over at Yolaja. “Do not forget. There were divisions between our own people before we all learned how to communicate telepathically."

“I remember reading about t'e wars fought between t'e Bylachaw and Kerachaw, but t'at was almost two t'ousand cycles ago. T'e unification ended our o'katcha… our racial tensions for all time."

“What the heck is a Bycelchaw?" asked Jillian.

“One of several sub-nations of the Xan-chaw… the people," the Outlander replied. “Similar to your own peoples' we were divided into separate groups until we unified as one, the Chaw. Doing so allowed our entire race to develop the telepathic abilities we now share… or once shared," the alien finished sadly, slowly balling his hands into fists.

From his expression Jillian could sense a sharp flash of pain tear through his heart. Such abrupt moods of depression would arise from time to time, triggered by even the most simple thoughts or feelings. She knew from experience it was his own form of survivors' guilt. She firmly reached out and took one of the Outlander's large hands in both of her own, gently prying it open. Yolaja sat quietly, watching as the human tried to comfort her uncle. The youngling mimicked the human's movement, taking Bob's other hand.

“We are not t'e only ones left," she whispered, trying as much to convince herself as well as her uncle. “Vor'Taca Delantu told me at least two dozen or more shuttles escaped t'e world ship. He could not track t'em in t'e confusion of t'e battle." She paused for a moment, then brightened slightly. “And do not forget… T'ere were eight ot'er Vu-T'eel, like yourself, who were away on missions. T'ey may yet also find ot'ers, like us."

“Vu-teel?" asked Jillian.

“Vu-theel. In your language the guardians," the Kerachaw replied, smiling weakly. He reached his hand up to ruffle it through Yolaja's mane. “One can only hope," he replied softly.

“So your people are called the Xan-chaw, not the Kerachaw."

“T'e word chaw means t'e people in your language. Xan means all, so put toget'er Xan-chaw means all people. T'e Kerachaw are t'e largest sub-nation of the chaw, representing about sixty-two percent of t'e total population."

“And the others?"

“There are five distinct groups," Bob recited. “The Tegrichaw, the Bycelchaw, the Valmarchaw, the Alzarchaw and of course I and Yolaja who are…"

“Kerachaw," Jillian finished.

Yolaja nickered softly. “Human's many not be telepathic, but t'ey are a lot like t'e Tegrichaw."

“We are?

The youngling nodded. “Empathic… you know how to finish ot'er people's sentences."

“I thought that all Xan-chaw were telepathic. At least since… what did you call it? The “unification?"

“Yes," the Outlander responded. “Our unification was made possible by the use of advanced technology that allowed our people to share their gifts at various levels, based on the individual."

“Gifts such as telepathy?"

“Yes," Bob said. “Telepathy, empathy, telekinesis, psychometry, even pyrokinesis to a limited extent. Each of the chaw contributed one or more such disciplines which the Kerachaw, thanks to their advanced science, were able to isolate, refine, and propagate to all the Xan-chaw nations."

“That sounds like quite the accomplishment. Combining minds allowed you to combine your societies."

“Well, it was not as easy as it sounds," added Yolaja. “At first it created a lot of conflict between t'e Kerachaw and t'e more aggressive Bycelchaw. T'ere were arguments over what form our government would take, political power, chaw superiority. It was a mess."

“Sounds familiar," Jillian said.

“It was a mess because it took about five generations of genetic enhancement to pass on the various mental traits to all the Xan-chaw who wanted it. The only trait we all share is telepathy. The others are problematic, like fur coloration."

“So, not all Xan-chaw share the same psychic abilities?"

“No," Bob said. “The only ones who have all the psychic powers are the Vu-Theel. But that's because of the intense cybernetic and genetic enhancement that is required at all levels… mental, physical and spiritual. If you broke it down into human terms, each Vu-Theel, like myself, would cost about ten billion dollars to create and take more than seven years of training. Fortunately, our unification was not nearly as demanding of resources"

“I remember one of my tutors telling me it might have all fallen apart, if not for t'e help we were given by a race we called t'e Dream Walkers."

“So, you've made contact with other extra-terrestrial civilizations?" the human asked.

“Several times," Bob replied. “The Dream Walkers were the first. They set us on our current path of unification and exploration."

“What were they like?"

“Well, they're hard to describe. You might think of them as a small, advanced, semi-corporeal, socialist collective hive-mind with a strong individual group identity."

The human frowned skeptically. “That sounds both confusing and contradictory."

“You're not wrong," the Kerachaw replied. He stood and stretched. “Computer… display holographic image of the Dream Walkers, one tenth scale." The lights dimmed and a colorful figure appeared out of thin air. It filled the room.

“Reduce by half," the equine commanded. The image shrank to a size that Jillian could take in completely. It had pastel green scales, a red and gold mane that surrounded its head and trailed along its spine, ending in a thick tuft of fur at the tip of its tail. . It looked like a cross between a Chinese dragon, a Japanese Kieran, and a hooded cobra. A pair of wings sprouted from its back and its feet looked like a lion's.

“Okay… I have no idea what I'm looking at," Jillian said. “The closest thing we have on Earth is a mythical being called Kukulkan. He was either an Aztec or Mayan god. I'm not sure which."

“Both actually, though the Aztecs called him Quetzalcoatl," Bob replied.

“Interesting. What name did they have in your language?" the human asked

“In our language, Dream Walkers translates to Xan-o'katcha yaro

“I t'ink I will call t'em Kukulkan from now on," Yolaja chimed in. “I like t'e sound of t'at word. It is a better name t'an Dream Walkers."

“Better than Dream Walkers?" Jillian asked.

“T'at is your language. It does not begin to capture t'e subtle complexity of what they are and represent to us."

The human shrugged and looked back at the image before her. “He looks more than a little fearsome. Is that why you have o'katcha as part of his name?"

“It might be. They scared the hooves off my ancestors the first time they made contact."

“That's hard to imagine. I've seen you respond to a number of crisis and still remain relatively calm."

“It's a part of my training as a Vu-Theel. When my people first encountered the Kukulkan…" Bob glanced over at Yolaja, who smiled approvingly. “They appeared as an amorphous cloud of particles that surrounded our entire world. We had no way of defending ourselves against them. Fortunately, they turned out to be friendly."

“How did they go from being particles to looking like a kind of Mayan god?"

“They coalesced into the form you see, so they could better communicate with us," Bob explained. “Since the avatar they chose was composed of their entire colony it had mass, volume and size. They later admitted it was what they looked like before evolving into a semi-corporeal species. As they described it, they were individual parts of a greater hive consciousness."

“When you called them semi-corporeal, I imagined them to be beings of pure energy."

“Even energy is made up of microscopic particles," Yolaja said. “In the case of t'e Kukulkan, t'ese particles are sentient and have a certain amount of independent t'ought."

Jillian sat back and brushed a stray hair out of her eyes. “So, after introducing themselves, they took on a collective, physical form?"

The Kerachaw nodded. “It made it much easier for them to interact with my people." The human looked at the projected image of the Dream Walker.

“How the heck could any kind of hive intelligence control billions of individual, sentient particles?"

“My tutor said t'at t'eir central mind would only exert control over t'eir motor functions. T'e individual particles could still communicate and interact wit' each ot'er t'rough t'ought," Yolaja explained.

“That sounds like it would be incredibly noisy, at least on a telepathic level. I couldn't imagine humans being able to function on that basis. How would they retain memory or information critical to survival?"

Bob shrugged. “I don't know. My people never asked, though it is theorized they had a shared memory that all could tap at will."

“Shared memory, shared experiences… probably shared learning and knowledge, yet each particle could think for itself. Okay, I'll admit it. Even in my wildest suppositions on alien life I never imagined anything like this." Jillian chuckled. “Forget monsters from the ID… your Dream Walkers…"

“Kukulkan," the youngling corrected, smiling authoratively.

“All right… Kukulkan. They could be monsters OF the ID."

“I'm not all that certain they had any kind of subconscious. At least, we never detected any," the Kerachaw said. He abruptly raised an eyebrow. “And since when did you start analyzing things using old movie references?"

“I used to do it all the time in college and med school. I thought it made me sound more intelligent that I felt."

“Maybe I should try somet'ing like t'at," Yolaja said.

“Maybe," the Outlander replied. “Just remember, a poorly applied reference could also confuse not only others, but yourself as well."

“You sound like you speak from experience," the youngling teased.

Jillian chuckled. “Believe me… he does. Lots and lots of experience."

“Well, at least I'm trying to improve."

“That is true. It's not easy adapting yourself… your thinking, to a completely different culture. Humans aren't the most logical creatures in this universe." She looked over at Yolaja. “You on the other hand seem to be adapting pretty well to being someplace new."

“Oh… well t'at is because I am, how you would say… cheating."

“Cheating?"

The youngling nodded. “I am telepat'ically linked t'rough my uncle and he is filtering information for me, helping me understand what you are saying and correcting my own communication."

Jillian laughed. “I wouldn't exactly call that cheating. It's more like you are using what resources you have to speed up your own learning ability." She paused for a moment. “Is that why you didn't speak much when I turned on my collar while Bob was out saving that submarine crew?"

Yolaja nervously rubbed her hands together and looked down. “I was… afraid I would say t'e wrong t'ing."

Jillian went over and sat next to the youngling. She reached over and put an arm around her back. “Don't ever be afraid of making mistakes around me. It's how most humans learn. We call it trial and error. As long as the error causes no harm and you learn from it, then it becomes a good lesson." Jillian raised the youngling's chin and looked into her eyes. “I will understand."

Yolaja smiled at this.

“As for you," the human said focusing on Bob. “Don't make her so dependent on you she won't try on her own."

“Yes teacher," the Kerachaw replied humorously.

Jillian made a face. “You could be a bit more respectful, especially when you consider how much I've taught you since we first met."

“True," he acknowledged. We've learned a lot from each other. All in all, you've been the kindest teacher I ever had."

The human raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you never had a kind teacher in all your life?"

“Not once I began training as a Vu-Theel," the Outlander said. “Mistakes were never tolerated or accepted as part of learning. The demands of our instructors were matched by everyone's understanding of the kind of power and responsibility we would eventually wield."

“Intense training… Sort of like a cross between the U.S. Marines, French Foreign Legion and Navy SEALS?"

“In a way… Minus our psychic powers and cybornetic implants," the Kerachaw replied. “Understand, the Vu-Theel are incredibly enhanced warriors. That's why there are so few of us. Compared to the average chaw, I might be the equivalent of Sun Wu-Kong among you humans."

“Sun Wu… who?" asked the youngling.

“Kong, also known as the Monkey King. He is the main character in a Chinese book called Passages to the West. I can identify with him."

“Are you seriously comparing us humans to monkeys?" Jillian teased.

“Well, your species did evolve from a common primate ancestor, didn't they?" Bob asked. “And besides, your people wrote the story."

“I'll remember you said that Mister Ed."

Yolaja looked back and forth between the two adults. “What is a Mister Ed?"