--- EPISODE TWO --- The old fashioned teletype punched the words out across the full width of the roll, before the platen spun again, and jerkily fed more paper through, just in time to present some blank space for the next line. In the background, the relentless pounding drum beat of theme music accompanied a series of rapidly cut images, each interspersed with more close-ups of the teletype, as it continued to print ... ... TOP SECRET ... TOP SECRET ... TOP SECRET ... ... 2005 ... ... EARTH UNDER ATTACK BY ALIEN FORCES ... - Cut to: V formation of massive disc-shaped craft descending towards an unidentified US city. - Crowds of people gather in the streets; stare up at the skies in horror. - The White House; viewed from the front lawns: gigantic alien vessel hovers above, dwarfing everything. ... WORLD POWERS MOBILISED TO DEFEND THE PLANET ... - Tanks, Planes, Battleships, troops and other military hardware in action. ... C . E . T . T . O ... - Full-screen logo: Silhouette of man, woman and child, standing side by side in front of the globe. ... COUNTER EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL THREAT ORGANISATION ... ... HEADQUARTERS BENEATH WORLD TRADE CENTRE ... - Distant shot of the twin towers. - Cut to underground control complex: Operatives dressed in tight-fitting pale grey jumpsuits, holding clipboards, and walking from console to console with purposeful and intense expressions. ... EXTRA-TERRESTRIAL THREAT DETECTOR: OPERATIONAL ... - High Earth orbit: impressive looking piece of electronic hardware with radar dishes, antennae, and the CETTO logo on its side. ... MOONBASE: OPERATIONAL ... - Wide angle shot of a sprawling complex on the surface of the moon. - Three space shuttles streak overhead like fighter aircraft. ... SUBMARINES PATROL THE WORLD'S OCEANS ... - Poseidon class strategic nuclear missile submarine threading its way through the murky depths. Close shot: CETTO logo on conning tower. ... STEALTH FIGHTER SQUADRONS IN CONSTANT READINESS ... - Ground level shot of a secret air base: three F117As power up and thunder down the runway; climb high into the sky. - Hard cut: blinding flash; disc-shaped alien vessel over the Golden Gate bridge; Stealth Fighters approach. - Three loud drum beats coinciding with rapidly cut close shots of AMRAAM missiles being fired. - Impact! Impact! Impact! - Blossoming explosion spreads out to fill P.O.V. Doctor Scully reached down into the big paper bag, her fingers frantically seeking out the last fragments of popcorn, bringing the crisp sugar coated confectionery up to her mouth, pressing it hungrily between her lips, all the while unable to take her eyes from the action unfolding in front of her. On Scully's television, the explosion seemed to go on forever; as the entire room vibrated in sympathy with the Dolby Surround Sound audio, fragments of debris cartwheeled towards the viewer in slow motion. Finally, as the last few beats of the stirring theme were hammered out through the speakers, in NICAM stereo, two words flashed up in a stylised font like the letters from a worn typewriter: EARTH SIEGE The remainder of the programme credits rolled slowly over a completely black background, accompanied by an ominous silence ... Starring Bradford L. Reilly as Flt Lt. Tom Travers Becky Paretto as Professor Annabel Constantine and John Green-Franks as Maj Gen. Trenchard This Episode: Planetfall Scully crossed from the kitchen, and set down two glasses of red wine on the table in front of the Doctor. She settled into the other chair, looked briefly at the screen, then back at her Time Lord guest. Dana smiled at the sight of 'her twin', completely absorbed by the programme, her eyes following every scene intently. Suddenly, the Doctor made a loud tut-tutting sound and waved her hands dismissively in the direction of the screen. "Something wrong?" Scully asked, sipping some of her wine. "I *wish* that people would do their research properly!" the Doctor explained, shaking her head with frustration. "I mean, just take a look at that Turtloid pan-dimensional organic star cruiser ..." Scully turned her eyes to the screen, where a huge disc- shaped object, not unlike a large deep pan pepperoni with extra mushrooms, was hanging silently in the skies over Washington. She cast an involuntary glance out of the window, almost expecting to see that a huge shadow had fallen across the ground. "*Everybody* knows that a Class Eight Planet Crusher doesn't have twin diostatic thrust transduction vertices," the Doctor explained, with exasperation. Frustrated, she reached for the remote control and shut the set off with the savage stab of a button. "Uh, it's only a TV show," Scully ventured, tentatively. "*Only* a TV show?" The Doctor jumped to her feet at once, and began pacing back and forth over the length of the lounge; pacing so hard, that Dana was worried about the damage that she might do to her carpet. "*Only* ... Hah! Imagine what would have happened to *me* if the writers hadn't done their research properly? Why, I'd have ended up being cancelled after just twenty six seasons!" She marched across to the window, and peered out through the curtains. Scully drank some more wine. "And then," the Doctor continued, spinning around on the balls of her feet, "They'd have probably brought me back in some dreadful made-for-TV movie that nobody watched! Why, there might never have been a *ninth* Doctor!" She shuddered. "Here." Dana handed her the other glass of wine. "Have a drink and sit down. I want - need - to talk to you." --- --- --- : FBI Headquarters Agent Pendrell had never really expected much from life. After all, life was just ... well, life, really. It began, it happened, it ended. There wasn't all that much else he could say about it. Thinking it through, though, it would be nice to be *noticed* every once in a while; to know that you were a part, even a small part, of somebody else's world, and that you didn't just exist as a fragment of your own imagination. Lately, he'd started to worry about that a lot. He was concerned that, one day, he might actually stop thinking that he was Pendrell altogether - and then, would he simply wink out of existence, like a fused light bulb? On the screen of his PC, he dragged another file to the recycle bin, and watched the little icon of crumpled paper flash briefly, before returning to exactly the same shape that it had been before. He got to thinking that, if the person who had written the software for that trash can had been *really* bothered about what people thought, then he (or she) would have taken a bit more care about appearances. After all, he'd now dragged three files to that recycle bin; so shouldn't that little pile of crumpled paper in the top of it be three times as big? Life. It was never quite what you expected. He was convinced that his approach was the best: expect nothing; get nothing; and never be disappointed. Pendrell found himself thinking about Special Agent Dana Scully again. Sometimes, when she didn't seem to be looking right through him, she did things that filled him with anticipation. Just little things, like inviting him out to lunch, and asking him about his work, and where he saw himself in five years' time. It had been a strange conversation, he considered; almost surreal. In the end, it had been another case of nothing expected, and nothing received. She'd insisted on paying, said a hurried goodbye, and then rushed off to meet Mulder to link up for their next case. Oh, and she'd assured him that, no, her early departure had nothing to do with the embarrassing incident with the jalapeno peppers. He sighed, and dragged another file to the recycle bin. The story of my life, he thought. "Hey, Pendrell. What ya up to?" Mulder was slouching in the doorway, his hands thrust into his pockets, and the tip of a sunflower seed just poking out from between his teeth. How he had managed to form a coherent sentence with one side of his mouth kept closed like that, was an instant source of fascination to Pendrell. "Deleting files," he replied. "Gee, that must be exciting," Mulder remarked, as he stepped into the small office. "Isn't Agent Scully with you today?" Pendrell asked, wishing almost immediately that he hadn't. He felt his face flush, and wondered if Mulder could see the redness in the subdued lighting. Fox cracked the shell of the seed between his teeth. "Nah, she's meeting someone for lunch." He came over and stood behind Pendrell, hovering over his shoulder and studying the screen. "Oh," said Pendrell, at once disappointed and slightly relieved. He felt the skin of his face cool slightly. "I hear that you and her tried that new Mexican place the other week," Mulder remarked, nonchalantly. "What's it like?" "Oh, so so." The younger man shook his head nervously. "Yeah?" Pendrell dragged the mouse pointer over to the Start button in the task bar. "Dana isn't a great fan of spicy foods, so -" "*Dana*, eh?" Mulder pulled up a chair alongside him, and moved closer, leaning towards him in an overtly conspiratorial manner that the other man found quite unsettling. Pendrell looked at him out of the corner of his eye, all the while trying to concentrate on launching his copy of MS Word. Eventually, after they'd both spent almost a full minute staring at the slowly rotating hourglass, he said: "Mulder, can I ask you a question?" "Sure." Mulder pulled a crumpled paper bag out of his pocket, and held it in front of Pendrell's nose. "Seed?" "Uh, no." He pushed the bag away with his hand. "Mulder, it's about Agent Scully." "Yeah?" He pulled the chair a couple of inches closer, and leaned towards him, staring right into his rapidly reddening face. "Is she -" "What?" "I mean, are you and she -" "An item?" "No, I didn't mean it quite like that. It's just that -" "Well, Scully and me, it's kinda difficult to explain." He cracked another seed, and the grin across his face became even more pronounced. "Only, I wondered if you thought she might -" The phone rang. Pendrell snatched up the receiver with such urgency that he almost sent the instrument skidding across the desk. "Agent Pendrell ... Yes, sir, he's here with me now ..." Mulder pushed the chair away from the desk and rocked it backwards on its rear legs, folding his hands behind his neck, and reclining casually. He waited for Pendrell to put the phone down. "Skinner?" Mulder asked. Pendrell nodded. "He wants you in his office. Scully too." "Well, he's gonna be disappointed on that last part." "Do you know where she went?" Pendrell asked, enthusiastically. "If it's important, I could go get her." Mulder stood up, and leaned against the wall, grinning again. After a couple of seconds, he reached into his inside pocket and produced his cellphone. "I don't think that'll be necessary, Agent Pendrell. Remarkable pieces of technology, cellphones." He started to dial but, seeing the expression of disappointment on the younger man's face, he had second thoughts. On the way out of the office he tossed the phone at him, and Pendrell just managed to catch it between his hands. "Speed dial number one," Mulder called back, as he started off towards Skinner's office. Pendrell held up the phone in his shaking hand, and started to feel a slight quivering sensation building in the pit of his stomach. Now keep calm, Pendrell, he told himself. Hesitatingly, his index finger found the speed dial button, just at the exact same moment that the 'Low Battery' warning started flashing on the display. --- --- --- : Dana Scully's apartment Scully stared into the bottom of the empty glass, for a brief moment fascinated by the way the convex shape acted as a distorting lens, bending the rays of light from the electro- luminescent display panel of the video recorder, and enlarging them until they became shapeless and unrecognisable parodies, flickering and twisting as she slowly rotated the glass between her fingertips. The Doctor cleared her throat. "Has this got something to do with Mulder?" she asked, cautiously. "It's got everything to do with Mulder." Scully sighed. She set the glass down in front of her, suddenly seeing the digital time readout on the video clearly, and thinking, distractedly, that she was due back at the Bureau. "Everything and ... nothing." "Well, I'm all ears," said the Doctor, gathering up the folds of her scarf, and forming them into a neat pile in her lap. "It's just that my life lately - well, he *always* seems to feature in it." "Hmmmn. Dreadful," said the Doctor, unconvincingly. "Oh, I don't mean it like that. But, every once in a while, I need some space, some time that I can call my own." "Try swapping places with me," the Time Lord said, drinking all of the wine from her glass in a single gulp. "Believe me, I've got all the time in the Cosmos." "Yes, and you control it," said Scully, a hint of something close to envy in her voice. "You shape your own destiny." "Well, it doesn't happen *quite* like that. For a start, trouble has a bit of a knack of following me around. I mean, take that time I tried to have a vacation on Polsatoria Omisaga. Barely do I set foot outside the Time Ship, than I get arrested for 'going attired in a wholly inappropriate manner liable to cause a serious breach of the peace'!" "Improper dress?" The Doctor's costume was certainly eccentric, but no stranger than any she'd seen in the local Krogers almost every night of the week. "On Polsatoria Omisaga ... that's the ninth planet in the Omis system, by the way ... they don't wear dresses," the Doctor explained, with a mischievous grin. "In fact, they don't wear *any* kind of clothing. Body language is *very* important to them. *All* body language." "Oh." "... And then there was the time when the Mutant Mega- Mice tried to kidnap me, and force me to help them steal a cheese synthesis engine from the Fromagian Empire. Now that *was* a tricky situation, I can tell you -" "Doctor." Scully broke the Doctor's steady flow of dialogue before it became an uncontrollable torrent. "The mental link that was created by this -" "- Quantum shunt." "Whatever. The point is that, after it happened, I found I *knew* things." Dana clasped her hands together and tried to focus her thoughts. "... It was as if I'd been through some kind of speed learning process." A speed learning process that had delivered revelation after revelation; the amazing truth about the real nature of the cosmos, and the way in which the universe was built upon such fragile foundations that its continued existence almost defied belief. "Oh, that's quite normal," said the Doctor. "Close proximity quantum events affect the production and flow of neurones in most carbon-based life forms. It's a bit like ... well, a bit like re-mastering an old record." "Re-mastering? You mean that this knowledge already exists within us?" For a moment Scully had a vision of billions of dormant memories the world over, potentially able to turn anybody into the next Einstein or Hawking, upon receipt of the correct electrochemical stimulus. "In some more than others." The Time Lord shrugged. "It can be a little overwhelming, but, if it's too disturbing, I can help you to forget." "No," Dana shook her head. "Oh, no, Doctor ... I don't want to *forget*. I want to know *more*. In a way, this has helped me to restore my faith. You've shown me that there is a framework, however tenuous ... that something underpins it all ... that the universe really still does make some kind of sense ..." "Well, I wouldn't go quite that far," said the Doctor, smiling. "It's actually pretty chaotic. In fact, I hate to think what might happen if there wasn't someone like *me* going around sorting things out -" "Doctor, I've seen a tiny part of it, but now I want to see it all. I want you to take me with you." --- --- --- : FBI Headquarters Mulder shuffled uneasily in the chair. Had Skinner really taken leave of his senses? Had he and Scully finally driven the man over the edge? "Yes, Agent Mulder, I am serious." He was standing with his back towards him, staring out of the window. "But, sir ... turtle farming!" Mulder didn't think he would be able to find any tactful way of saying what was on his mind, so he just let the words come straight out. "Well, it's a bit of a sudden decision, isn't it?" Skinner turned around and stood, hands on hips, silhouetted in front of the window. "They're the best kind, Agent Mulder. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you and Agent Scully first, so that you didn't hear it from anywhere else. And I wanted you both to know how much I admire and respect the work that the two of you have done. I've been proud to have been associated with the X-Files." Mulder glanced sideways at the empty chair where, so many times before, Scully had sat at his side, while they had explained themselves to a disbelieving Skinner, between them slowly bringing him around. He took another look at the stylish business card that Skinner had given him. A cartoon picture of a bright green turtle winked back at him. Walter Skinner Speciality Turtle Farming Toll Free: 1-800-TURTLES "Well, goodbye, Agent Mulder." Skinner held out his hand. Mulder shook it slowly, with a mounting feeling of disbelief. "And please be sure to give my regards to Agent Scully." On his way out of Skinner's office, Mulder glanced over his shoulder, only to see his former boss now staring dreamily out of the window. Shaking his head, Mulder decided to go and find Pendrell. Something was definitely not right. --- --- --- : United States Strategic Air Command : Oak Ridge AFB : North Dakota : 3:38 pm "Yeah, I did see it." Grant Freeman put his coffee down on the end of the instrument panel, and leant against the console. "They got it *totally* wrong, as always." "Well, I think it's a great show." Cheryl Simmonds was speaking in defence of the previous evening's episode of 'Earth Siege', the one that had actually been filmed right there at Oak Ridge Air Force Base, almost five months earlier. "Yeah, but that guy Travers! I mean, no pilot would get away with behaving like that. And what about the *size* of that alien battle cruiser - how could anything like that even get off the ground, let alone fly?" He sipped some more of his coffee. "As for that woman scientist -" "Now, don't you start about Annabel Constantine again." Cheryl wagged her finger at him. "She's a great character, and Becky Paretto plays her absolutely spot on. There hasn't been such a strong female lead in a TV series since Gillian Ander -" The klaxons cut right across her sentence, causing her to drop the conversation entirely, and to switch her attention to the radar screen. Lieutenant Freeman moved quickly behind her, studying the display over her shoulder. "Three ... no, four." She began frantically tapping commands into the keyboard of her console, "Altitude: fourteen thousand metres, velocity ..." Her voice trailed away. "Sergeant?" He was waiting for her report. She turned around to look at him. "Sir, I read their velocity as mach seven point five!" "7.5? But that's impossible ... check your instruments again." She tapped keys, waited for the display to settle, for the columns of information to line up neatly on the monitor screen, and then she shook her head. "Confirmed, sir. Descending rapidly now - altitude twelve thousand metres." "Could be some form of ballistic missile, I suppose," Freeman's mind rapidly sifted through the alternatives, there seemed to be something strangely familiar about this scenario. Except that, the last time it had happened, it was in the middle of a prime time TV show! "Can you plot their trajectory?" "Coming up now, sir." She pointed to a straight line that the computer had plotted across the screen. They both saw where it ended. "Jeeesus! They're coming right for us!"