CHAPTER 5

"RELEASE THE GUARDIAN OR DIE!"

Catching the puppy-dog look in the Doctor's eyes, Frankie could not help but smile. "Oh, alright," she said at last. "I'll let you in to see Crystal. But it'll have to be tomorrow morning."

"Why not now?" the Time Lord wanted to know.

"Well, for one thing, I'm supposed to be in a staff meeting five minutes ago. And I want to hear this explanation of yours in detail."

"And the other reason?"

"The other reason is, you're not supposed to be in here at all without a pass," she admitted guiltily. "We've been having some trouble with the members of the lunatic fringe, and my Chief of Security's tightened things up for a while."

Mildly disappointed at being put off after his long search, the Doctor bid Dr. Albert good-bye until morning. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell her if it turned out Jason was still ill and didn't recognize him. They had worked out a verbal and nonverbal code so the Alterran could let him know who he was when he took on an unrecognizable form. If Jason's mind wasn't clear yet, he would be unable to respond.

As he left the building, the Doctor wondered if the delay might not be beneficial in the long run. Especially if his companion was still recovering. Changing his mind on destinations, the Doctor returned to town and set about finding out as much as possible concerning the Cult of Jaka and its Guardian.

After her staff meeting, Dr. Albert went to inform Alex Grove of the Doctor's appointment.

"You don't mean to say you actually believed him, do you?" Alex said in a disbelieving tone. "Oh, Frankie, how could you?"

Dr. Albert ground her teeth in annoyance. "Alex, I've told you a hundred times to stop calling me that here! And in answer to your question—Yes, I did believe him."

"Why?"

"I don't know, really. There was something about him…"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Did he melt your icy heart, Madam Director?" he jested, having to duck when a small book was thrown at him.

"Who's on duty tonight?" Dr. Albert asked seriously.

Still chuckling, Alex fished through the stack of papers in a tray on his desk, triumphantly producing the one he wanted. "Let's see…" he said softly, scanning the dates on the list. "Tony'll to be outside, just in case old Brogan and his cronies decide to erect another alter of purification in the parking lot." Frankie groaned, recalling the commotion the last on caused. "Carl's in the administration wing," the Security Chief went on, "and…Johnson's in the labs and gets to watch the fish—and Crystal." Looking up, he added, "And, of course, there's the maintenance crew."

The Director nodded approvingly and turned to leave, stopping when a sudden thought struck her. "Oh, I almost forgot. Harris is working late in the lab area tonight, so let your boys know. I'd hate to have him set off an alarm by mistake."

"Okay, Boss," Alex grinned, making a notation on the paper. "What about you?"

"You know me, Alex. I always work late."

Alex Grove sighed heavily. "Yes, I know…"

It had been several since the regular staff had gone home and all was quiet. Johnson went to one of the rear doors and called to Tony, offering him a cigarette and engaging him in idle conversation, each expressing their boredom on so quiet a night.

Tony finished his cigarette and flicked the butt across the parking lot, watching it shower sparks on the ground when it landed. This was the last thing he ever saw. As he stepped from the door, he was savagely struck from behind by Johnson and dropped like a stone. Within seconds the members of the Cult of Jaka, led by Brogan, appeared out of the darkness.

The stupefied Tony was dragged into a utility closet where his throat was cut, his body left hidden inside. Johnson led the way to the observation room only to discover all the security codes had been changed. "We'll need the Director's codes," he was saying just as the unsuspecting Harris walked in the opposite door.

The startled man was immediately descended upon by the red-robed Cult members and dragged over to Brogan, who ordered him to open the Seagate and release the Guardian. Meaning, of course, Jason.

"Look, Brogan," Harris said condescendingly, "even if I could, what makes you think I'd just release a valuable animal—" The rest of his words were cut off when Brogan speared him in the stomach with his ornate staff. Harris gasped and dropped to his knees, only to be dragged back to his feet by his captors.

"The Guardian is more than a mere animal!" the High Priest announced. "You will release him or die!"

Harris stared back in stupefied amazement, remembering how Alex had always called the Cult of Jaka a bunch of glorified mercenaries following their High Priest General. Now it seemed truer than he would have liked and he shrank back, shaking his head. "I can't! Only Dr. Albert has the authority now."

Johnson stepped forward. "He must know, Master. He's got every clearance going in this place. And—" he added pointedly, "he's the one who found the chest."

Brogan's eyes narrowed and he nodded to the others, who proceeded to beat the unfortunate scientist senseless before being satisfied he was telling the truth. The High Priest watched dispassionately as this violent act was carried out, calmly turning to Johnson when Harris was dumped in a battered heap on the floor. "It seems we'll need Dr. Albert's assistance after all," he said blandly.

Johnson went to the phone and called the Director's office. Despite the lateness of the hour, he knew she would be there. "Hello, Dr. Albert? This is Johnson," the traitor said in a concerned tone. "I'm glad you're still here. I'm in the observation room and Crystal's all wound up in a ball by the air—" He broke off when the line abruptly went dead. Turning to the others, he grinned evilly. "She's on her way."

Frankie arrived in record time and was breathless as she came bursting through the far door. She was taken aback by the assemblage in the room and cried out in alarm when she was suddenly grabbed from behind and hauled over to the waiting High Priest. Unaware of the fact that they had already killed one man, she was more outraged than frightened. "Now you've really gone too far, Brogan," she snapped. "And as for you, Johnson…"

"I know. I'm fired," the traitor replied blandly.

"Enough!" Brogan roared, feeling a though he had already lost control of the situation. "Dr. Albert, you will open the Seagate and release the Guardian."

"I'll do no such thing," she stated categorically. "Who the hell do you think you are coming in here and spouting orders? This is my facility, Brogan."

The High Priest was momentarily stunned. He had never dealt with the Director one-on-one before, having always been confronted by Alex Grove at the same time. He had expected to dominate her with ease, having assumed her usual show of tenacity was upheld only by the formidable presence of her Security Chief. The last thing he expected was the reality of the defiant spitfire who stood before him.

Recovering himself immediately, Brogan ground his teeth in anger and struck Frankie savagely across the face with the back of his hand. "Open the Seagate or Harris dies!"

"You're mad," Frankie breathed in wide-eyed astonishment. "The whole lot of you. You're all mad. You really believe that Crystal's the guardian of some long lost treasure?"

Brogan pulled an ornamental knife from the top of his staff and glanced over at Harris. "Prepare him," he ordered.

The semi-conscious Harris was immediately spread-eagled on the floor, his arms and legs pinned by the Cult members.

"Alright! Alright!" Frankie exclaimed. "There's no need to hurt him anymore." Pulling away from her captors, she went to the master control board and slipped her card key into the slot, punching in the code that would open the Seagate. Turning to Brogan, she pointed to one of the switches near his hand. "Throw that and your Guardian will be out in two minutes."

The High Priest eyed her suspiciously. "Why two minutes?"

"That's how long it takes for the safety checks to run through," she replied wearily. She didn't tell him she had also tripped a silent alarm, but by the time the police arrived, Crystal would be gone. Dr. Albert turned her gaze to the main tank and its docile occupant, clenching her fists in rage and frustration. So unique a creature. So monumental a find. Here was the specimen that would have made all her struggles worthwhile, and it was about to be taken from her by a bunch of religious fanatics!

Frankie's reverie was broken when Johnson roughly grabbed her. "Alright, High Priest," she spat, "I've done what you wanted. Now leave us in peace."

The others were still holding down Harris and Brogan moved slowly over to him, kneeling just above his head. "Oh, we'll leave, Dr. Albert," he said in a taunting voice. "Just as soon as we've made our sacrifice to Jaka."

"What!" Frankie was horrified and watched helplessly as the knife was raised high into the air. "No! For God's sake, Brogan!" she screamed, struggling in vain to get free. Johnson clamped a hand firmly over her mouth to silence her and she watched in horror as the blade was plunged into the defenseless man on the floor. He screamed in agony, writhing against the hands that held him down. His body convulsed and a horrible gurgling came from his throat. Someone thrust a wad of cloth into his mouth to silence him before the "sacrifice" continued.

It was already too late. Carl had been making his rounds on the floor above when he heard Dr. Albert's shouts, his blood running cold when he heard Harris' death scream shortly thereafter. Not knowing what to do next, he ran to the stairs to try and find Johnson, finding a pool of blood coming from the utility room instead. Bracing himself, he looked inside, and what he found made him sick.

With difficulty, Carl pulled himself together, closing the door to the utility room. Alex's office was just down the hall, and he decided to try there first, praying the Security Chief was still in the building. It would be easier to find him than to go searching the building for Johnson—alone.

Dr. Albert tried to turn away but was forced to watch as the knife was passed from hand to hand. A second blow was delivered, then a third. With each thrust, Harris' muffled screams filled her ears. He strained against the weight on his extremities in a futile attempt to get free, yet the knife continued to plunge into his body. Even when it was obvious he was dead, Brogan went on with the ritual. From where Frankie stood, it was just killing for killing's sake.

All these goings on had quite naturally attracted Jason's attention. He observed the nightmarish scene in a detached stupor, not caring one way or the other. The beating of Harris had puzzled him, but not enough for him to bother about. He didn't think he liked it when Brogan slapped Frankie, but he was sure he didn't like it when Harris was brutally stabbed to death. In fact, he positively hated it.

It was this cold-blooded murder that finally rekindled the emotions that had lain dormant in Jason since his return to his right mind. He let out a number of angry and terrifying shrieks as he threw himself around the tank. It was an impressive display that went virtually unnoticed.

In tears and terrified, Dr. Albert had never dreamed Brogan would actually stoop to murder, and now it seemed an absolute certainty that she would be next. When the High Priest received the knife back, he looked in her direction and Johnson whispered in her ear, "Your turn, Frankie."