CHAPTER 9

"WHO AM I?"

Several miles in the opposite direction, the TARDIS sat in a wooded area just off a quiet strip of beach. The Doctor was in the control room pouring over the information he had gathered on the Cult of Jaka, which had its roots in Teggellan mythology.

As the story went, Jaka was the very powerful god of Water and Light. So powerful, in fact that many of his fellow gods feared he would one day become the preeminent force and destroy them all. To avoid this, they joined forces to destroy him first. The ensuing power struggle erupted into a full-blown war, ending with a great battle on Teggell.

The attacking deities were unable to destroy the mighty Jaka, many of the lesser gods being destroyed in the conflict. It was not until those who remained combined their powers in a single effort that the powerful god of Water and Light was overwhelmed and imprisoned. Those who had remained faithful to him were slaughtered out of vengeance by his jealous (and less than divine) brother gods. It was only when the carnage ended that it was discovered Jaka had managed to outwit his enemies, having been able to hide the source of his great power before he was overtaken. The victorious gods searched in vain but were unable to find what had been the true reason for their attack; control of the source of ultimate power. The captive deity mocked their efforts, revealing that he had placed the coveted power source under the protection of a fierce Guardian. Only those loyal to him would ever be able to locate the power source and appease its Guardian, who would in turn release him from bondage.

The Doctor stopped reading and tossed the volume aside. "Superstitious rubbish," he muttered. He then started reading about the newly revived following of the mythical deity, which proved far more interesting. Apparently Brogan was an historian of questionable repute who had been trying to trace the origins of the ancient myth of Jaka. He had even gone so far as to buy the ancient and overgrown Temple of Jaka, as well as an extensive portion of land surrounding it. The structure was perched atop an almost sheer cliff and completely isolated, making it, Brogan claimed, an excellent spot for undisturbed research, his having set up the Temple as his base of operations.

This all seemed very straightforward to the Doctor, who was wondering by this time what all the fuss was about. He picked up what he'd been told was a very controversial book about the Cult that had, by a serendipitous coincidence, only just been published. He read on…

Approximately two years ago, Brogan suddenly seemed to go over the edge, declaring himself the High Priest of the Temple of Jaka, God of Water and Light. A secret society then sprang into being, its members publicly shielding their identities behind red hoods and under long robes. A trail of violence always seemed to follow the movements of the Cult, but nothing could ever be linked directly to them, giving birth to the rumors that some of the members were highly placed individuals who protected the others by covering up or destroying any incriminating evidence.

The Doctor found this information fascinating and deeply unsettling. He studied the photograph of the Cult's hooded devotee on the book's cover, shaking his headA fine collection of corrupt, power-hungry bureaucrats, he thought darkly, and led by a bloodthirsty maniac who believed himself omnipotent.

Sitting back, the Doctor thought further. If Jason's mind was still clouded by fever or the aftereffects of Draconian Flu, he might be inclined to believe all this Guardian rubbish. Especially when one took into consideration the fact that his own father had dubbed him, "The Guardian of the Krystovans." Jason's current powers, while still developing, were formidable and if he believed himself to be this mythical Guardian, the results could be disastrous.

Rubbing his eyes, the Doctor pushed the papers aside. That was enough for one night, he thought. He turned down the lights in the console room, crossing to a wall near the inner door and touching a button. A panel slid open and a bed came noiselessly out of the opening. Stretching out on the bed, the Time Lord closed his eyes. What ever the truth turned out to be, he had no doubt he would find out what he needed to know when he returned to the Freeland Center in the morning.

As soon as Dr. Albert dozed off Jason seized the opportunity to see just how seriously she had been injured, finding her more bruised than anything else. He took the rag he had used to dry her eyes and tore it into strips, wrapping them loosely around her wrists, which seemed to have suffered the worst during her ordeal.

When he eventually arrived at a place similar to the inlet that had been described to him, Jason wondered how to best wake the peacefully sleeping woman without frightening the wits out of her again. Deciding there was no way of avoiding it, he nudged her gently. "You can wake up now, Frankie," he said softly. "You're home."

Frankie stirred and the Alterran repeated himself. Opening her eyes, she did exactly what he thought she would. She caught her breath and went rigid with fear.

"I think this is the place, isn't it?" Jason asked gently.

Dr. Albert blinked, her mind momentarily blank. Then the evening's events came flooding back and she put a hand to her head, rubbing her eyes. "Did I faint?" she asked at last.

"No," came the amused reply. "You fell asleep."

Jason surfaced, allowing her to look around. Frankie was delighted to see they were indeed in the right place and pointed out her darkened and deserted beach house.

Jason carried Frankie out of the surf and part of the way up the beach, having convinced her that he would be perfectly fine out of the water. He returned her to her feet, supporting her as she made her way unsteadily towards her back porch. They were within a few feet of it when Jason suddenly felt lightheaded. He was still physically weakened from his illness, and all the sudden, strenuous activity had come very close to exhausting him. He stopped short and hovered unsteadily in the air.

"Are you alright?" Dr. Albert asked concernedly, thinking he needed to return to the sea immediately.

Back on dry land, and in his usual element, the Alterran automatically transmuted to his human form. His legs were very wobbly, however, and he sank to his knees, a hand to his whirling head. "I don't know…" he said faintly. "I feel so…dizzy all of a sudden."

Frankie let out a cry of alarm. She backed away, tripped over a partially buried chunk of wood, and fell over backwards.

Jason looked up in alarm and crawled over to her. "Frankie, are you alright?"

"Keep away from me!" she cried, crawling backwards to get away. Her ankle got caught in the wood and she tugged at it in a panic. "Keep away! Don't touch me!"

"What? Is this the thanks I get for—?"

The clouds overhead parted just as Jason was reaching out to her and he saw his own human hand in the moonlight. He caught his breath, staring at it in mute astonishment before looking down at himself. His hand then went to his face as he turned to Dr. Albert; wide-eyed, speechless and white as a sheet. "How…? How…?" he stammered out finally, sitting back in the sand. He started to tremble and Frankie suddenly realized he had shocked himself just as badly as he had shocked her. Perhaps even more so.

Taking a deep breath, Frankie disengaged her foot and went over to the distraught young man. "Now it's my turn to come to the rescue," she muttered as she took him by the hand, finding, to her added amazement, that he was completely dry. She, on the other hand, was still dripping. Leading the way into the house, she sat the shaken youth in a chair in the living room. "I'm going to get cleaned up. Don't move. I'll be right back."

Receiving a weak smile in reply, she said forcefully, "Don't go anywhere," and left the room.

"Where would I go?" Jason muttered dejectedly. He looked around the room, seeing a mirror on the far wall. He went over to it, seeing the face of a stranger reflected in the glass. "Who are you?" he asked forcefully. Sighing heavily, he turned to go back to the living room, stopping when his attention was caught by something vaguely familiar in the next room. A glimmer of hope sprang up in his heart and he went in to investigate.

Frankie showered and changed quickly, feeling more like her old self now that she was clean, dry and home. She rummaged for her first aid kit and returned to the living room, discovering, to her dismay, that the shape changing stranger was gone.

"Dammit!" she exclaimed, dashing to the open porch door.

"That was fast," came a calm voice from behind her.

Frankie spun around to see Jason standing it the doorway to the kitchen, a steaming mug in his hand.

"Oh, thank goodness," she sighed relievedly. "I thought you'd gone."

"Have you finally made up your mind?" the young man asked wearily. "First you want me to go, then you want me to stay." He sat down on the couch and asked pointedly, "Where would I go, anyway? You're the only friend I've got, and you're afraid to even be in the same room with me."

There was more truth in this statement than Dr. Albert cared to admit. Sitting down, she noticed for the first time that he was still shaking and she put a hand on his arm. "You're trembling," she said concernedly.

"I'm scared," Jason admitted finally. The terror in his eyes stunned the oceanographer, who was momentarily at a loss for words. "Who am I?" he went on shakily. "What am I? I…I don't even know myself."

"You really are scared, aren't you?" Frankie said almost unbelievingly.

"Of course, I'm scared, Frankie. I was supposed to kill you tonight. They were so sure I would, and…who's to say that…that later I won't—" Unable to go on, Jason put his head in his hands. Now that he didn't have Frankie to worry about, his own situation came crashing down on him; his devastating isolation and terror concerning his true identity. Was he a man, or was he that horrible creature? The killer they all thought him to be.

This was all too much for the exhausted Alterran to bear and he finally broke down. "Oh, God, help me," he moaned, collapsing into tears.

Frankie put a consoling arm around the trembling young man, marveling at how terribly vulnerable he seemed. How could I ever have been afraid of him? she wondered, wishing there were more she could do for him than just hold him and dry his tears.