After several moments of silence, where everyone just looked at the new surprise guest, Kyah entered the room with an extra chair and put it at the table for William to join the group.

"The truth is, Blake, your father lives here on the premises," Mr. Lancolm stated this with emotion in his voice. "Out behind the house in a new Airstream trailer we bought for him when his old mobile unit was junked on the Navajo reservation."

"That's right'" William confirmed, graciously. "She's a real gem. And I invite you all to pay me a visit out there in it sometime before you leave."

The three smiled at his genuine offer of hospitality.

"The invitation is especially to you, Blake," he added. "Anytime. You now know where to find me."

Blake just nodded, still in a state of shock at what had just happened.

As William took his place at the table, and Mr. Lancolm and Kylah excused themselves to bring out the dinner which Kyah had prepared earlier. Dr. Berling took over officiating with what was still intended to be a meeting.

"We are truly grateful for William's outstanding work over so many years," he said. "He was decades ahead of our momentum. And it seems a true pioneer in amassing the kind of evidence it was going to take to convince the world of alien presence in our heavens. But also his work shows the real breadth and scope the military has used to foment its disinformation to the public for so long. His document collection, spanning some seventy years, is a treasure in itself!"

"Well, I want you all to know," William responded softly, and with some difficulty, "I'm not proud for leaving my family some twenty-five years ago. Beginning this quest for the truth. And I'm taking this time here tonight to personally apologize to you, Blake."

William was looking directly at his son across the table. And again, the room was heavy with emotion.

"Son, however you choose to treat me now or think of me in the future, I accept and deserve. But you all must understand something essential here. Taking on this role of truth finder and collector of evidence was something I felt I had to do. Especially after years of working myself . . . deep inside the darkest pockets of the military establishment. Having seen firsthand what was being done by so many in their efforts to cover things up."

Everyone looked down at their empty plates, frozen by the gravity and seriousness of the moment, and especially out of respect for both Blake and William.

"It's not something we'll dwell on tonight, folks," Dr. Berling said, tempering the immediate feelings in the room, "but William's assumed murder truly was a necessary act. Both to protect his life . . . and also to eliminate the growing chances of being taken hostage and possibly tortured for the whereabout of his life's work. Blake was just very fortunate to have found what it seems no one else could find."

Michael was the first to respond. "So who were the other players out there?"

"Michael, it's obvious certain assets of our own government, once they suspected what William was doing, would not have hesitated in silencing him. Our group was beginning to expect that was going to happen. But there were also foreign elements who were . . . and still are, actively trying to get as much information as they can on extra-terrestrials."

"That explains the break-in and trashing of your hotel room last night," Tuwa said. "And those drug mules who were hired to abduct me."

"OK, this is all obvious now," Michael answered. "The thugs with the Russian accent who offered us all that cash for what we discovered. Jesus!  How did they know what our own government already knew?"

"The same way we knew you had made some miraculous discovery out there, Michael. Our very own high-altitude drone surveilence. There's lots of eyes out there from afar watching that desert. And has been for some time."

"Christ. I guess so. . . ."

"Not surprised about the Rusians contacting with you with cash," Dr. Berling said, seeming amused. "It's an old Cold War trick.  Did you really think they'd let you live after making that transaction?"

Blake's eyes widened.

"Not for a moment," Tuwa replied softly.

"So, is our government totally off the trail of William now?" Michael persisted. "Are they accepting his death?"

"Looks that way. It took some real expertise and tactical involvement of various members of our group . . . some flown in from Canada to pull off William's fake murder. For all official records, he was attacked  . . . motive unsubstanciated, on Native American land. You see, due to William's low profile and so many years off the grid, socially, his death was never really questioned beyond being an unsolved, possibly common theft-related crime. But, yes. It seems the case is now cold."

"I'm so sorry you have to hear about all that, Blake." William said. "But it's who I was . . . what I did. And now . . . where I am."

"I'm just glad you're back . . ." Blake said softly.

"Thank's, son. I'll make every effort now for you to get to know me better."

Just then, Mr. Lancolm and Kyah reentered the dinning room with large serving platers smelling of sizzling steaks, baked potatoes and salads. As the food was placed on everyone's dish by his wife, Mr. Lancolm skillfully opened the bottles of wine and beer to pour them.

After the drinks were next to each guest, Dr. Berling held up his glass, somewhat officially.

"I'd like to propose a toast this evening."

Everyone picked up their glass.

"Here's to the reunion of father and son. And to our host and his wife bringing us all together. And all of this is in the hopes that our new guests will offer their skills and unprecedented involvement toward our future efforts."

Everyone nodded and drank in unison.

During the dinner that ensued, Mr. Lancolm graciously revealed much of his working past as a businessman in Colorado. Establishing the majority of underground power grids that link up the state's energy to major cities. He modestly shared that it had left him as CEO of the Fortune 500 construction entity. He informed that the resources in his retirement were ample to pursue his passion for uncovering the truth and disclosing the government's culpability in dealing with extraterrestrial intelligent life.

Over the course of the meal, William too, covered sensitive details of his past and clandestine involvement with work early on at "Groom Lake," a code name for Area 51, and his knowledge of top-secret projects concerning the retro engineering of alien flight systems. He also went into disturbing accounts of his observations into the heaviest security clearances conducted at these facilities and at Right Paterson Air Force Base—the medical-psychological examination and information extraction from alien beings while they survived in military captivity.

The long evening concluded with the three guests agreeing to stay the night in the Lancolm's spacious home and in the morning share what they had learned from their on-board encounter with the alien Deltas. Both Michael and Tuwa pledged they would offer their insight and expertise to the group of which Dr. Berling and Mr. Lancolm were founders and officials.

Before retiring for the night, all were asked to share an aperitif up on the top level of the Lancolm's home. It was a glass-pained observation room which afforded an unobstructed view out across the expanse of Colorado forests and mesas to the west. The cobalt night sky was alight with its myriad of stars—most being unseen galaxies, each with uncountable suns and planet systems, teaming with life.

* * *