Rating -    G
      Category -  either X or S, depending
      Spoilers -  Neisi, 731
      Keywords -  alternate universe
      Summary  - "either a formidable ally, or just plain formidable"

      Archive    - anywhere, as long as the name stays with it
      Feedback   - sure
      Disclaimer - XF characters belong to CC, 1013 and Fox



Formidable
by Lee Burwasser  <lee46b@gateway.net>

=====     =====
AUTHOR's NOTE:  This story takes place in early-to-mid 1996.
Call it alternate late 3d season.
=====     =====

Bureau car
Baltimore-Washington Parkway
just outside Baltimore

Without the distraction of driving, the mind can no more leave
problems alone than the tongue can stay away from a hollow tooth.

Section Chief Blevins was not happy.  To put it mildly.  But he
couldn't have what wasn't there.  Mulder's investigative
technique was appalling (also putting it mildly), but the man
was one of his own X-Files -- it worked.  At least, it put him
on the track of the answer more often than not.  Given a partner
obsessed with such mundane minutiae as *evidence* . . .

If Blevins really was trying to bring Mulder down, he'd made a
serious mistake in pairing his problem with a scientific mentality.
That way lay a 75% solve rate, hardly a means of disposal.  *But
I'm damned if I'm going to tell him that.  I like it in the field,
even with the screwy cases we get.  Hell, especially with the screwy
cases we get.*

"Anybody home?" came Mulder's voice from the driver's seat.

"Hm?  Sorry.  Thinking."

"Looks painful.  Blevins?"

"Mm-hmm."

"So look ahead.  The Baltimore medical examiner should turn out
either a formidable ally, or just plain formidable."

"Assistant M.E.  Certainly her reports are meticulous and thorough."

"More thorough than a lot of people like.  You noticed she included
the blood alcohol content?"

"Zero.  Unusual to include a null BAC, though in a vehicular death
it makes sense."

"For the driver, not the passenger.  This one always includes it,
and doesn't hesitate to cite alcohol as a contributing cause of
death."

"Good for her."

"Not everyone agrees.  Nor of her X-raying the arms of female
cadavers that look beaten up."

"Calluses of old fractures."

"She's also part of an ER network on cases that look like abuse.
Hard to do the distraught hubby act in the face of half a dozen
previous fractures, each taken to a different hospital."

"A whistleblower."

"She won't last, the good ones never do.  But she should
accomplish quite a bit before she's shot down."

"What's the 'or'?"

"She was called in on that mutilation case last year.  They're rare
in this part of the country, which she attributes to the smaller size
of farms, compared to western ranches; carcasses are found before
scavengers get a chance to do their job.  And her response to the
exsanguinations was, 'Did anyone turn the carcass over?'"

"Liquids run downhill."


Medical Examiner's Office
Baltimore MD

Just inside the Assistant ME's office door, they both halted,
staring at the occupant.  She was a flame, a dynamo.  Brains all
down her spinal cord, and a blazing *presence* that left the
agents momentarily speechless.

Mulder recovered first.  "Dr Scully, I'm Fox Mulder, with the
FBI.  This is my partner, Ross Pendrell."


Cafeteria
ME's Office

" . . . I found the expected cause of death, but I also found cancer
in both of them.  A type and form I'd never seen before, the same
type in both."

Ross leaned back and sipped his coffee.  "Unlikely coincidence."

"So unlikely, that I proceeded on the assumption that it was not.
Of course, the connection could be as ordinary as their belonging
to the same support group.  However, the first connection
Detective Edwards found was not ordinary at all: each of them had
been reported missing, some years ago.  In neither case was there
a ransom demand, nor had either of them suffered injury beyond
exposure.  Neither of them offered any account of the time they
were gone.  No one had made any connection between the two cases --
at least, not in writing."

Dear God, Mulder was on the track again.  He had actually opened his
mouth when Dr Scully held up a hand to restrain him.  Her hands
were strong and well-shaped, like the rest of her . . .

"Meanwhile, I found a few more cases of this unusual cancer, half
a dozen counting the car crash victims.  The others had *not* been
reported missing."

Mulder sat back, still eyeing the ME like a cat at a mousehole.
Ross told himself that Mulder was very intense about his work.
Not about vibrant red-headed medical examiners . . .

"I was about ready to put the case on the back burner when I was
told in effect to close it and stop wasting my time and the
taxpayers' money.  I checked with Detective Edwards; he'd gotten
nowhere on the case, and was forced to put it aside for a turf
war among drug dealers.  But he'd found another connection
between our victims: both belonged to a group called MUFON.  I
checked the other cancer victims, and all of them also belonged.
MUFON is not a cancer support group."

Mulder chuckled.  "No, it's a very different kind of support group."

"Detective Edwards suggested I consult you."

At this point, a voice called, "Dr Scully!"  They turned to face
a middle-aged man in a buisiness suit hurrying toward their table
waving some papers.  "Dr Scully, you know--  Excuse me, gentlemen,"
he said perfunctorily and concentrated on Dr Scully again.  "Dr
Scully, you *know* they're going to fight this.  They're going to
bring in--"

"-- anything and everything they think will save them," she
finished for him.  "I will probably have to educate their lawyer
and the court, explain that hogtying is not in itself
life-threatening, but that forcing a hogtied prisoner to lie
prone courts positional asphyxia, especially in cases of drug
use.  No doubt I will then have to repeat my finding that the
cause of death was asphyxia, that there was no blockage or tissue
swelling, nor any evidence of neck compression, but clear evidence
of hogtying.  Perhaps I will have to spell out that if the
defendents took care to keep their prisoner on his side, monitored
his breathing and applied CPR as soon as there was evidence of
distress, they did all they could be expected to.  It will be
tedious, and  probably unpleasant, but that comes with the
territory."

"But you could avoid it all just by not drawing attention . . ."
His voice wavered into silence in the face of Dr Scully's ice-blue
gaze.  He physically threw up his hands, still clutching the papers,
and walked away.

She turned back to the G-men.  "I'm sorry, agents.  As I was saying,
Detective Edwards told me of the existence of the X-Files and
suggested I call you in.  I can't offer any concrete evidence of
criminal activity -- so far this is a public health matter -- but
something is very wrong."

"I dare say the criminal side will surface," said Mulder.  "Did
you check the bodies for implants?"

"Implants?"

"Implants of unknown provenance, usually in the nose, the back of
the neck, or abdomen."

"Definitely not the nose; they both had tumors there, and between
anatomical and toxological investigation, the area was thoroughly
examined.  The other two . . . something small enough might have
slipped by unnoticed . . . "

"Can you check it out?  Are they still in your custody?  And can
you test for implants in the other cancer victims?"

"I can re-check the cadavers, they haven't been released yet.  As
for the living victims, it's a matter of persuading them to
co-operate."



Mutual UFO Network
Baltimore Branch

One of the older women recognised Mulder's name.  "*Fox* Mulder?
The federal agent who rescued Sally Barton?"

Mulder didn't play up to her admiration.  "I only wish I had rescued
her.  I just stumbled across where they dumped her and called 911."

"You were there.  And you cared.  That meant more than anything."

It was enough to get her cooperation in rounding up her fellows,
and their cooperation in gathering in a room off the main hall.
Mulder gave them a quick recap of the situation, and finished,
"Dr Scully found no implants in the dead women, but an old scar
on the back of the neck of each."

"Oh, yes," said the tall brunette.  She took a vial out of her
purse and held it up.  The others did the same.  "Lottie and Cora
had them too."

Ross stared at the dozen women, each holding a vial with a spec of
something inside it.

Dr Scully shook her head.  "There was no record of such vials in
their personal effects."

"We don't carry them about all the time," said the brunette.  "We
brought them along now in case we decided to trust you, because
you want to ask questions about the cancer.  They gave it to us,
the ones who take us again and again.  At first we don't remember,
and we never remember it all, but we remember the Bright White
Place.  And the tests."  She shook the vial.  "You don't believe
us."

"I believe that that is what you remember.  But memory is tricky,
and perceptions can be chemically altered.  The alien abduction
scenario is very like a psychedelic trip; right now, we have no hard
evidence of whether you were abducted physically or mentally.  It's
not going to be easy to conduct double-blind tests, but we *will*
find out what happened to you."

The brunette smiled.  "We believe that you will try."


Cafeteria
Office of the Chief Medical Examiner
Baltimore MD

It had proven hard to talk any of the women into giving up their
vials -- which were, after all, the only evidence of what had
been done.  They agreed that the ME's office should get the
implants post mortem, and the brunette accompanied them to the
homes of 'Lottie and Cora' in an unsuccessful attempt to find
theirs.  The entire party then visited two members who were too
ill to attend the meeting.  One of them made the same agreement
as the rest; the second actually gave Mulder the vial.  Dr Scully
provided the evidence bag and custody record for it.

Now, back in the cafeteria, Mulder began the predictable argument.
"Why don't you believe them, Dr Scully?"

"I do believe that they remember what they say they do."

"But you think all of them are remembering wrong."

"Memory is highly fallible.  If two eye-witnesses ever gave identical
accounts of an event, the detectives would be sure they were in
collusion."

Ross couldn't entirely suppress a snort of laughter.  She gave him a
brief smile, then looked back at Mulder.

"Their memories are in your field, Agent Mulder.  Working out how they
developed cancer requires physical evidence of what happened to them."

"So what else could it be?"

"Any number of things.  What I'm afraid of is a new rape drug.  A
designer psychedelic that also does chromosomal damage."

Mulder gave her an indulgent smile.  "Reaching a bit, aren't we?"

Ross heard his own voice say, "Too extreme?"  Mulder turned on him
the look that had earlier failed to intimidate Dr Scully.  *Of
course not, she slugs it out with top-drawer defense attornies.*
Experience they tended to miss out on in the X-Files, since they so
seldom took a case to court.

Now she said, "I would be delighted to eliminate the possibility.
But there is no eliminating the cancer.  It exists.  And those
women are dying."



X-Files Office
Criminal Investigation Division
Hoover Building

Ross gripped the sweat-slippery phone and took a deep breath.
"I'd like to speak to Dr Scully, please."

And there was the alto voice, "Agent Pendrell?"

"Uh, yes."  *Breathe, Ross.*  "I . . . we've been putting
that implant through its paces over at the lab.  I, ah, I'm
afraid we tested it to destruction, but we did find out
quite a bit.  I'm sending you a report . . ."  He trailed
off, hoping she would . . .

"Why don't you give me a quick English translation?"

"Sure."   *Give me half a chance!*  "The thing is a microprocessor,
with very complex microlithography, very dense.  The closest I've seen
to it is those chips that let quadroplegics use computers by thinking
at them.  None of our tech-heads has seen a neural net as complex as
this one; it's state of the art, cutting edge."

"Have you figured out what it does, and how?"

"It definitely stores information, and it works by direct
electrochemical interface with the cerebral cortex.  As near as we
can tell, the chip mimics circular neuronal activity in the brain.
It replicates the memory process."

"You seem to have dug out quite a bit.  Now if only . . .  Were
you able to figure out who made it?"

"Well, I found something in the silicon matrix, I figure the name
of the manufacturer.  It's a Japanese company, but I haven't been
able to find anything about it, here or in Japan.  Commercial
carriers have no record except one: a delivery to a Dr Shiro Zama
at a leprosarium out in Perkey, West Virginia.  We're taking a
look out there tomorrow."

"Hm.  Bit outside my jurisdiction . . ." she went on, mostly to
herself, "no favors to call in, but maybe I can stir up some
curiosity . . ."

Ross heard his own voice saying, "Why not come along with us?  It's
certainly within our jurisdiction."

"I'd like that," she said softly.

*Breathe, Ross!*  They arranged the logistics with more dispatch
than he really wanted.  He hung up and faced Mulder's grin.

"Headhunting for the DC ME's office?" the older agent asked.

"God, no!  That Harrington case a while back?  We had to arrange
emergency toxicology facilities just to get our end of the case
going.  The actual autopsy was backed up for a couple of weeks
after that.  It must have been about then that they found that
morgue worker stealing from one of the corpses."

"You don't think Dr Scully could clean that stable?"

"Not without backing.  And a budget."



Hansen's Disease Research Center
Perkey, West Virginia

"Empty."

Four flashlight beams swept back and forth across the large room.
Ross brought his down to illuminate the patch of floor Dr Scully
seemed interested in.  "Skid marks," she said.

Mulder was prowling around the edges of the room.  "No dust," he
said.  "Wiped clean."

"Empty," repeated the Clarksburg resident agent.

"Something moved out fairly recently," said Ross.  He followed Dr
Scully, once more on her feet and prowling around the center of the
room.

"What were you hoping to find?"

"Someone to ask questions," said Dr Scully absently.

"Kind of out of your jurisdiction, isn't it?" asked the RA.

"More skid marks," Mulder interrupted.

Dr Scully went over to look at them, but her attention was caught
by something on the wall.  Ross lit it for her, and saw what must
have caught her eye.  "Something screwed or bolted up here once."

"Not too long ago."

"Look," said the RA, "if you guys are bored in DC, we have lots of
jobs around the fingerprint center."

"If coincidences are coincidences," said Mulder, "why do they feel
so contrived?  Why did whoever was here clear out, not long enough
ago for a proper layer of dust to accumulate?  Why sweep the place
clean of all debris, even taking down whatever was bolted to the
walls?"

"Maybe they wanted them wherever they were going.  And maybe they're
just neatniks."

"Packing out all their trash?"

"And how could they have learned you were coming?"

"From me," said Dr Scully.

"How's that?" asked Mulder.

"I sent a report to NIH and the Cancer Society, as well as queries
to a couple of oncologists.  And I followed up my phone discussions
with Detective Edwards with written confirmation."

"So they may have been on it before we were."

"How fast can a bureaucracy move?" scoffed the RA.

"A mole within a bureaucracy can move very fast, indeed."



St. Joseph's Hospital
Baltimore MD

The woman sitting by the hospital bed was an older edition
of Dr Scully, with darker hair.  She was relaxed and
smiling.  Ross began to relax, too, and made his way to the
bed.

Sure enough, Dr Scully was awake and alert. "Agent Pendrell,"
she greeted him.  "This is my mother.  Mom, this is Agent
Ross Pendrell, with the FBI."

After greetings all 'round, Ross asked point-blank, "What
happened?"

"Dark-colored sedan, I didn't get the license number.  At
first I thought he was drunk, but he deliberately ran me off
the road."

The elder Scully gasped: "Dana!  You never said--!"

"Wait, Mom."  Dr Scully squeezed the older woman's hand.
(Ross couldn't be jealous of her mother, but certainly could
envy her . . .  Wait, what was that?)  "Agent Pendrel?  How
did you get here?  How did you hear?"

"Ah . . .  When we first got the case, I, ah, had a 'bot
search the communication channels for, ah, your name . . .
and, and MUFON, and . . . keywords, you know.  So I heard,
and I came over."

Mrs Scully used her free hand to squeeze the nearer of his,
and he felt his face heating to incandescence.  *Damn* his
redhead-fair skin!

"I see."  Dr Scully smiled at him, then turned to her mother.
"I told the highway patrolmen what happened.  I don't know
what they told the admissions nurse.  I can't think of any
personal enemies who'd go that far, so I assume it has
something to do with the job."  She looked back at Ross.
"Quite possibly the case I consulted you about."

Mrs Scully looked from one to the other, got up and pushed
the chair toward Ross.  "Don't tire her, Agent Pendrell."

"Oh, Mom, don't worry!  I'm really no worse than bumped and
bruised.  They're discharging me this afternoon."

"*If* you rest and don't set back your recovery."

Dr Scully gave a long-suffering sigh.  "Mothers have *such* an
unfair advantage," she told the ceiling.

Ross sat beside the bed and let his hand fall beside hers.  He
wished he had the nerve to set it *on* hers, but she was all
business.  Uhm, maybe not quite all business?  She filled in an
awful lot . . .


"It was no accident.

"OK, take it in order:

"After I got back from Clarksburg, I went on with the other
thread.  MUFON calls itself a network, so it should be possible
to locate other cancer victims through, well, networking.
There are branches all over the country.  So I attended the
next meeting of the Baltimore group, to sell them on the notion.
But they weren't anywhere near as cooperative.  Not hostile, but
nervous.  And they told me only what I'd be able to get off the
Internet or other public sources.

"You remember, we learned that many of them are seeing the same
oncologist, a Dr Mortin.  I went to see him, and he *was*
hostile.

"Naturally they'd talked to him about us, and he had me tagged
as a grandstander, looking for ways to get my name in the paper.
I've been called that before, especially when I've insisted that
a death in prison had to be checked out, or given my lecture on
alcohol and emergencies.  I certainly don't hide from the
reporters; most of the regular contingent can give my alcohol
spiel as well as I do.  But the point is to get the case in the
public attention, not me.  Dr Morton acted as if he had to
defend his patients from a mad publicity hound.

"I tried to make him see that tackling opposite ends of the
problem as we were, we shouldn't get in each other's way, and
we should be able to help each other.  He didn't buy it.  He
didn't want my help, he didn't trust my professional competence
or my professional ethics, he . . .  You get the idea.  He said
he'd lodge a complaint against me, though I couldn't figure how
he was going to word it.

"Next day I found out.  He demanded that the ME's office stop
what he called our "fishing trips" into his patients' records.
When asked what brought this on, he gave an account of our
meeting that I hardly recognise.  Or rather, I recognise his
reactions, but not his account of how I set him off.

"My super told me the case was closed, so leave it alone.
I reminded him that I was not using the city's time on it, and
my hobbies were my concern.  He asked how I'd like a job in DC."
She paused, raising an inqisitive eyebrow, to see if Ross
understood.

"Threatening to blacklist you?"

"Sure sounded like it.  I reminded him that I could only be
fired for cause.  That  seemed to end it, and the rest of the
work day was normal.  After close of business, I checked the
net but found nothing useful.  Once crush hour was over, I
headed home.  That's when I had my highway encounter."

She paused, apparently gathering her thoughts.

"The light was just beginning to go when I noticed a dark-colored
sedan crowding over toward my lane.  I thought at first he was
drunk, but he wasn't weaving or overcorrecting.  Then . . .

"I've heard police officers describe how time slows down, how
details jump out.  I had to keep my mind on the road, but I
could see that he wore a dark top, glasses with heavy frames,
and a cap with earflaps.  He wasn't slouched, or braced against
the wheel.  He wasn't hunched over it, either.  He didn't shout
or make any gestures.  He sat quietly and very methodically
drove his car into my lane.

"I tried to get away from him, but his car had more power.
He crowded his car into mine, and I went into a skid.  It
. . . it seemed like I had lots of time to turn into the
skid and get control back, but then either I hit something
or he hit me again, and I lost control completely.  I was
lucky to end up in a ditch instead of wrapped around a tree."

She drew a long breath.  "I keep a blanket and a flashlight in
the car for breakdowns; I wasn't expecting anything like this.
I turned on all the lights that still worked and went over
to the tree line and lay down to watch.  I wasn't about to be
trapped in the car if the guy came back.

"He didn't, and the highway patrol showed up fairly quickly.
Someone saw what was going on and called them.  Didn't
identify himself, and couldn't identify the other car beyond a
dark colored sedan with muddy license plates."

"Didn't stop to help, either," growled Ross.  "Not exactly
passing by on the other side of the road, but --"

Dr Scully broke in: "The Samaritan came by after the
thieves had gone.  He was in no danger.  This person was
understandably afraid, and did his best to help without
endangering himself.  And as my mother says, though I don't
know him, Our Lady does."

Ross had a sudden picture of mother and daughter reciting
Hail Marys for the unknown, frightened man who didn't dare
Get Involved, but couldn't drive on without calling for
help.


"Ooops!" came Mulder's voice.  "Didn't know I was
 interrupting."

*We're going to have to go into this,* thought Ross as he
turned to the doorway and his partner lounging against it.
He did a  quick and *all*-business recap of Dr Scully's
story.

Manwhile, Mulder moved to the bed, glancing over the fittings.
"I got your note," he said quietly to Ross when he was done.
"I also got a suggestion to look at the Allentown Medical Center.  Shall
we go?"

"Wait a bit, and I'll go with you," said Dr Scully, just as
softly.  "I get discharged this afternoon, and I can do some
expediting on the paperwork."

Mulder shook his head.  "We can't --"

"How will you know what questions to ask, or understand the
answers?"

"It won't be pathology, forensic or otherwise."

"I did do my regular rotations in medical school, and public
health cases keep me familiar with other specialties.  My dad
taught me to shoot, and I'm licensed to carry."

Mulder shook his head again, just as Mrs Scully returned with
the ER doctor.  After introducing everyone all around, Dr
Scully addressed the agents.  "You can wait for me in the
waiting room, or I can follow and meet you there."

Mulder threw up his hands, and Ross chuckled, "We'll wait."




Bucar
Baltimore traffic

"And just how did you plan to get there, Dr Scully?" said
Mulder.  "Your own car is hardly in shape for an interstate
drive."

"Allentown's a rail-head," she answered absently.  "Turn here."

Ross broke in.  "Where did you get the lead?"

Mulder still addressed Dr Scully.  "Did you know that one of
the MUFON women we met works in that hospital?"

"I'm not at all surprised."

"Well, she does, and she recognised me when I came in looking
for my partner.  She told me 'Allentown Medical Center; Betsy
Hagiopan.'  She wouldn't say anything else, and escaped as
soon as she could."


They pulled up in front of an aging but well-kept apartment
building.  Dr Scully's furniture was like her clothes, neat and
quality without being flashy.  She gestured at the couch, saying,
"Sit down, I'll start coffee and check out Allentown.
Pennsylvania's a mixed state . . ."  Her voice trailed off into
kitchen-noises.

Soon enough she returned and booted up the laptop on the small
desk.  "Pennsylvania's a mixed state," she repeated, "and I'll
have to first place Allentown in its county . . ."  Again her
voice trailed off.  After a few minutes: "Rats.  Lehigh County,
coroner."

She started to sign off, but Mulder said, "Wait.  Do a search
on 'MUFON' and "Allentown.'  See if they have a designated
contact."

She began the search, then at a tone from the kitchen she got
up, gesturing Mulder to take over, and followed the tone.  By
the time the search yielded results, she returned with coffee,
cups and fixings.

"Any luck?"

"Steven Zinnzser, Edna Cooper, and -- Betsy Hagopian!"

"Hm: staff or patient, do you suppose?"

"We'll find out.  I gather your search was less successful."

"Lehigh County has a coroner, not a medical examiner," she said
as she served her guests.

"Bad news?" said Ross.

"Less than good.  I'm a public health officer with law enforcement
duties.  A good coroner works with public health, but the official
job description is just law enforcement.  What happens in a
medical center is almost by definition out of his jurisdiction."

"Who would you go to instead?"

"Depends on the local bureaucracy.  Someone in the medical
center is bound to know.  What about your side?  Will you
call in the local agents?"

"We may have to," said Mulder, "but I'm hesitant to descend on
the good doctors in force . . ."

They finished their coffee.  She took the service back to the
kitchen for a rinse and stack and poured the rest of the coffee
into a large thermos, which she handed Ross.  She unlocked the
lower drawer of her desk and took out her weapon, a Smith &
Wesson, showing its age but impeccably maintained.  She loaded
it with quick, sure movements, slipped it back into its
well-worn holster, and clipped it to the back of her waistband.


Bucar
I-476 northbound
bypassing Philadelphia

" . . . the insult is mostly to the imagination," she said.
"The contactees, back when I was a kid, had different kinds of
aliens.  There were the Greys, the Nordics, the Giants, and the
Guys in Blue -- or was it black?  I forget.  And they had
different agendas; some were goodguys and some were badguys.
Now it's all Greys, and they all have this *thing* about human
sexuality."

Ross put in, "Where by rights, they ought to find us
too tall, too stocky, too hairy, too pale --"

"-- our eyes too small and slanted the wrong way."

"Straight answer, Dr Scully," said Mulder.  "*Do* you believe in
extraterrestrials?"

"Bacteria, certainly --"

"Intelligence," he broke in.

"We've yet to prove there's intelligent life on Earth."

"I've seen some pretty strong evidence," said Ross softly.
The blue eyes smiled his way.

Mulder wasn't quitting.  "You agree that experiments are a
possible hypothesis; you can accept their testimony that far.
So why can't they be right about the aliens, too?"

"Because ETs would hardly use Japanese microchips for their --
Good God!" she burst out, interrupting herself.  "Ross!  Did
you say the microlithography on that chip was unusually dense?"

"Yes," he managed to say.  *Ross!*  She'd called him 'Ross.'

"And that density is correlated to the sophistication of the
chip, or its manufacture?"

"M-m-m . . . roughly, yes."

"Can you check on the density without destroying the chip?"

"Just the density?  Yes, I'd say so."

"So if the rest of the implants are also microchips, and
as dense as the first one, that means all of the victims
have had some sort of contact with a source of
state-of-the-art microprocessors.  Not something they
could pull out of a kitchen appliance."

"No.  I mean, yes, it's not something that just anyone
could get hold of."

"I knew I was missing something.  If we can talk the
victims into letting you --  How bulky is the equipment?
Could you haul it to Baltimore or Allentown and do the
checking there?"

"Easier to bring the chips to the lab."

"Implants: we don't yet know if the rest of them are
chips, or how dense.  Yes, physically easier, but it
may be hard to persuade them to entrust them."

"I'd rather not entrust the equipment to the roads.  No
matter how well you pack . . .  Unless you break everything
down and protect each piece separately, and then put it
together on-site, and break it down again afterward . . ."

"So we try to talk them into loaning them.  Do you have
chain-of-custody tags in the car?"



Allentown Medical Center
Allentown, Pennsylvania

Since it seemed more Dr Scully's turf, she greeted the
receptionist and introduced the three of them, somehow
forgeting to mention the Bureau.  "We're here to see
Betsy Hagopian."

"Ms Hagopian is very ill."

"That's why we're here.  Who's her attending physician?"

"Dr Scanlon.  Wait, I'll page him."

Dr Scanlon turned out to be a medium-sized man with an
attitude.  "You're a ways out of your jurisdiction, Dr
Scully."

"Diseases don't respect lines on a map.  If our informant
is correct, Betsy Hagopian is suffering the same peculiar
form of cancer as a group of women in Baltimore; a form
I've never encountered before.

"Ms Hagopian is far too ill to see visitors."

"If we can work together on this--"

"You are *not* going to carry on a fishing expedition in my
patient's records!  Now --"

"Fishing expedition?" Ross broke in.  "Didn't Morton use
the same term?"

"Yes, he did," said Dr Scully.  "Why?"

"Just that it's not often used in respect to medical
records.  At least, not cancer records.  The implication
is a search for something against someone."

Dr Scully played up.  Or perhaps she was brainstorming.
"You think . . . an environmental carcinogen?  Something
that could have been prevented?  Should have been?""

"Who do you think you are?" said Scanlon.

"Sorry," said Mulder, getting out his ID.  "Fox Mulder
and Ross Pendrell, FBI."

Ross displayed his on cue, enjoying the brief look
of consternation on Scanlon's face.

Very brief.  "Unless you can show probable cause, you
have no more business here than she does.  Please leave,
all of you.  We have nothing to discuss."


Cooper Residence
Allentown, Pennsylvania

Edna Cooper's house had a MUFON sticker on the window set
into the front door.  Ms Cooper herself was a medium-set
brunette.  Once again, Dr Scully was their spokesman.

"I'm Dr Scully, from the Baltimore Medical Examiner's Office;
these are Fox Mulder and Ross Pendrell."  After murmured
hellos she went on, "We were just at the medical center, but
Ms Hagopian was too ill for visitors."

Ms Cooper nodded.  "The cancer.  It's spread all through her
body.  Some of us go faster than others."

"Us?"

"We all have it.  All of use who were taken."

"Taken?  How many of you?"

"About a dozen.  They take us again and again.  They try to wipe
out our memories, but after a while we remember.  First the Bright
White Place, then the paralysis and the glittering machines, then
the shadow figures.  And always the pain."

"Is there . . . do they leave any physical trace?"

"Just the implants.  We all have them, too."

"Do you still have yours?"

"I had it taken out, but I kept it.  We all do."

"Might you, any of you, consider loaning them?  Just long enough
for a microscopic look, nothing invasive."

"What do you mean?"

Ross spoke up.  "I've seen and tested such an implant.  I would
like to check others.  If it's anything like the first one, just
a look at the microlithography would be useful."

"You would have to take them . . .  I don't know . . ."  Her
musings were cut short by a simultaneous ring and knock at the
door.  She excused herself and let in Scanlon and a tall,
somewhat gangly-looking man Ross had never seen before, yet
pegged as a colleague.

Scanlon said breathlessly, "I'm sorry, Edna, I should never --
Have they upset you?  Is your headache coming back?"

"No, Dr Scanlon.  I'm fine.  What . . . ?"

"This is Agent Spender, from the FBI resident agency.
I called them after this . . . gang invaded the medical
center."  He stalked over to confront the investigators.
"Agent Spender has given me an earful about your X-Files!
I might have known that you would persist.  Well, you
will *not* pester *any* of my patients, nor will you pry
into their records, without a warrant."

Spender said, "He's well within his rights, and his duty as
a physician.  Let's go."


The Allentown agent herded them out the door, and Ms Cooper
made no effort or gesture to stop them.  Once on the sidewalk,
he turned to Dr Scully and said, "Dr Scully, is it?"

"Yes."

"Jeff Spender.  Dr Scully, please don't judge the Bureau by
this pair of blue-sky maniacs.  What was it this time, alien
abduction?"

"To the contrary, Agent Spender: *I* consulted *them* about a
cluster of cancer victims -- a type of cancer I've never heard
of before now, and which, so far, has appeared only in members
of MUFON.  Your colleagues have proven more helpful than mine."

"Little green men?!"

"Grey," she corrected him.  "No, I don't buy aliens, but a
case can be made for abduction.  I incline more to an
environmental carcinogen, but I'm no closer to proving that."

"Well, aliens is what Fox Mulder chases.  Aliens and psychics.
He's a goddamned roadshow --  How is she?" he interrupted
himself as Dr Scanlon left the house.

"Resting.  Are these clowns still here?"

"Just leaving.  Dr Scully, can I offer you a lift to the
train station?"

"No thank you, Agent.  Your colleagues have been perfect
gentlemen."

"Then I'll escort you to the turnpike."


Bucar
Pennsylvania Turnpike, NE Extension
southbound from Allentown

Mulder said quietly, "Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"

Ross's lips twitched at the catch-phrase, but he made no effort
to follow it up.  "That stripped-out building in West Virginia,"
he said, just as quietly.  "Still, they all seem determined to
hang on to the implants."

"Otherwise they'd have thrown them away.  But Scanlon's their
doctor, they trust him.  Enough that by the time we could get
back with the equipment to study them, they'll be just what
you *could* get out of kitchen appliances."

"M-m-m."  Ross turned to Dr Scully in the back seat.

She was frowning in concentration.  For some moments he
took the opportunity to watch her, but found he wanted
to hear her voice again.  He fished a penny out of his
pocket and reached back to wave it in front of her face.

She started, looked at him in puzzlement, then focused on
his hand offering the penny.  She grinned, lighting up
the car, and accepted it.

"I think now that this is an environmental carcinogen, but
if it *is* an equal-opportunity Tuskegee, maybe you should
consult with some of the human-rights groups.  The only
one I've had much to do with is Amnesty International;
they're mainly concerned with prisoners, which these
people are not."

Ross nodded and contributed, "Americas Watch seems more
interested in Latin American goings-on than Anglo-American.
When did you work with Amnesty International?"

"Deaths in custody."  She frowned again for a moment, then
said, "That Boston group, Physicians for Human Rights; I
heard about them when they set up the International Forensic
Program last year.  And there's another group starting up in
the same area, I forget its name."

She wanted to brainstorm.  Fine by Ross.  "Come to think of
it, that new Bioethics Advisory Commission has a Human
Subjects Subcommittee.  A little sniffing around there might
turn up contacts."

"Actually," said Mulder, "the Citizens Against Human Rights
Abuse by Neurological and Electromagnetic Weapons, out in
California, is probably the closest match."

Ross tried to be diplomatic.  "They . . . don't have a lot
of luck convincing people."

Mulder grinned and translated, "You still think they're a
bunch of conspiracy freaks.  Anyway, it can wait; I want to
check on connections between Sanlon and  Morton."

"Probably a lot," said Dr Scully.  "They're both oncologists."

"I'll bet there's more than that.  And I'll bet Scanlon is
on the horn to Morton right now."



Office of the Medical Examiner
Baltimore MD

Dr Scully led the federal agents through the reception area
to a near-empty corredor.  One of the two men heading toward
them said, "Dr Scully!  Come with us, please."

"Where?" said Ross.  He did not like the man's tone at all.
Nor did he like the reaction to his question, as though
wondering how Ross came to speak to him at all.

Dr Scully said pleasantly, "Where are my manners?  These are
agents Ross Pendrell and Fox Mulder of the FBI.  This," she
gestured at the man who spoke, "is Dr Fell, our Deputy M.E.
for Baltimore City, and Dr Henderson, one of the Assistant
M.E.s."

Both were startled to be introduced to a pair of federal
agents, but muttered politeness which Mulder & Ross returned.
Then Dr Fell urged, "Dr Scully, we really do have to talk."

"Your office or mine?" she said pleasantly, and tucked her
hand into the crook of Ross's elbow.

*Breathe, Ross!*  He bent his arm to accomodate her, while
an invisible fist pressed on his diaphram.  Somehow, he
kept control of himself.  He even noticed the flicker of
consternation on the other men's faces.  She must have
done the same with Mulder on her other side; despite the
pleasant tone of voice, she was not about to be separated
from her witnesses.

"We're in the conference room," he said, much less
assertively.

At the conference table were a man and a woman whose
presence seemed to startle Dr Scully.  Again she performed
introductions: the balding man was Dr Tooms, from the
Postmortem Examiners Commission; the woman was Dr Redd, the
Deputy Chief M.E. for Statewide Services.  From the quick
check Ross had done after first meeting Dr Scully, these
four represented the commission that had appointed her, the
department that oversaw hers, her immediate superior, and
another colleague on her own level.

The two that had met them joined the others on their side
of the table.  Clearly, they had intended to put Dr Scully
on the spot.  Instead, she and her flanking agents formed
a team opposite them.

Dr Redd cleared her throat.  "We're hoping that an informal
discussion will preclude the need for formal procedures."

"Always worth trying," Dr Scully agreed, still pleasantly.

Ross did not voice his thought on the 'informality' of such
a collection of higher-ups.  The Bureau equivalent would be
-- what?  Your section chief, the assitant director, and a
representative from the Director, or would that be the
Attorney General?

Dr Fell took over.  "No one can please everyone, as we all
know.  There are always complaints, about everyone.  The
office has fielded the occasional complaint about Dr Scully,
but lately there has been an increase."  Now he addressed
her directly.  "Dr Scully, has there been . . . any kind of
trouble at home, or anything to . . . distract or . . .
disturb you?"

"Not unless you count getting run off the road yesterday."

The four shook their heads in commiseration.  Dr Tooms
said, "Road rage."

"No sir," said Dr Scully respectfully, "not road rage.
No gestures, no shouting, entirely methodical.  Heavy
frame glasses, cap with earflaps, mud-obscured license
plate."

There was a perceptable silence before Dr Fell
resumed.  "Family of the deceased have expressed
indignation at having their drinking brought up when
there is no direct connection to the death.  Everyone
understands the necessity of BAC tests in vehicular
fatalities, but you do seem obsessed, demanding BAC
for virtually every case.  This office is not the
Women's Christian Temperance Union."

"We've been through this before," said Dr Scully.  "By
its nature, ethanol intoxication renders its victims
incapable of judging their own condition.  People who
consider themselves sober, and are entirely capable of
performing their routine activities, are nonetheless at a
serious, often fatal, disadvantage in an emergency.  And
by the nature of our mandate, the types of deaths
referred to us, we deal with people who have encountered
emergencies.  Alcohol is a possible complication in many,
if not most, deaths that come within our jurisdiction."

At this point Henderson said sarcastically, "A knife
attack?"

"Certainly an armed assault rates as an emergency.  And
if you're referring to the case I think you are, the
knife failed to puncture vital organs or sever major
blood vessles; the victim bled to death comparatively
slowly, yet too quickly for help to arrive in time.
Alcohol promoted his bleeding by dilating his capillaries
and inhibiting his blood clotting mechanism.  Moreover,
he was found with one hand clapped to the wound, as though
trying to apply pressure but failing to apply enough.
That same man, sober, would not have bled out so quickly,
and might have been able to save himself."

She was firmly reasonable.  Ross had the feeling that he
was hearing Dr Scully's courtroom voice.  Certainly the
explanation was more suited to an attorney than to
a fellow medical examiner.

Fell threw a glance at Henderson and resumed his role
as interrogator.  "Several public prosecutors have
complained of being kept waiting, even after making an
appointment to see you."

Dr Scully frowned.  "Of course we keep them waiting.
There are more lawyers in this town than there are
pathologists, never mind forensic pathologists.  And
while our clerical staff do acquire excellent general
knowledge, they rightly reserve the technical
medicolegal questions to us.  Which means lawyers
waiting while we answer the questions of whoever
came in before them."

Fell let that go, and turned another page in his folder.
"Some of your colleagues have remarked that your stint
with the Death in Custody Team seems to have gone to
your head.  They describe you as 'pouncing on' perfectly
ordinary prison and jailhouse deaths that normally would
not even come to us; they maintain that your grandstanding
stretches our resources even thinner."

During this little speech, Dr. Scully's ramrod spine and
total stillness made her seem an icon.  This was lost on
Fell, and indeed on Henderson.

When Fell ceased, she said, "I will not ask today
which of my colleagues have so defamed me.  I will not
even ask how many.  I shall certainly demand this
information if this ever goes to a formal hearing.

"It is not grandstanding to do what the People of the
State of Maryland pay me to do.  Deaths in jail or prison
infirmaries are *not* physician-attended, especially at
night.  If we have found too many cases of untreated
tuberculosis and pneumonia, of lack of needed medication,
of privation beyond physical tolerance, the fault
is not with us, but with the negligent corrections system.
If we find evidence of brutality, the fault is with the
system that allows the brutality."

Ross decided to ask one of the lawyer-types in Civil
Rights Violations whether medical neglect was
recognised as cruel and unusual punishment.

Henderson waded in again: "You have accused corrections --"

"I do not accuse," broke in the icon.  "I set down the facts
as I discover them."

Fell tried to quiet Henderson again with a glance, but this
time failed.

"You stated that a deceased federal prisoner was subjected
to 'diesel therapy'!"

"I described the injuries and complications, and stated that
they are consistent with the definition and description of
'diesel therapy' that I was given."

Something drew Ross's attention to the highest of the
higher-ups, Dr Tooms.  He wasn't exactly wearing his heart
on his sleeve, but Ross could make out regret, as though
the older man would rather have been on Dr Scully's side
of that one.  With a mental leap worthy of Mulder, Ross
thought, *Somebody has something on him.*

Dr Redd now joined the chorus.  "I have a complaint here
that you use city facilities for your private cases."

Dr Scully drew a long breath and fixed her eyes like twin
sapphire lasers on Henderson.  "Would you care to inform
Dr Redd about the de facto agreement on DC cases?"

"I asked you, Dr Scully," said Redd sharply.

Dr Scully reluctantly stopped glaring at Henderson and
turned to Redd.  "All of us, including Drs Fell and
Henderson, do cases that officially belong to the
District of Columbia, when those cases involve Baltimore
or Maryland police, or any Baltimore or Maryland agency.
It has long been understood that we use city or county
facilities for this purpose, unless it would pre-empt
those facilities from local cases."

"I see.  But those are hardly private cases."

"I do occasional work at hospitals, using their
facilities.  On those occasions when someone's family
asks me for an opinion, the family makes arrangements
with a funeral home, and I bring my own tools."

"I've heard of prima donnas with their own long knives,"
said Henderson, "but a complete set?  Stryker saw?"

"Not where I can't be sure everyone exposed to the
aerosol will be masked.  Since it's usually a
re-autopsy, it seldom matters."

"And if it's not?"

"I use a hand saw."

Redd tapped on the table.  "If we may return to the
subject?  Thank you.  Dr Scully, my information is
that you *do* use the city's facilities."

"The autoclave, to sterilise my tools.  That's all."

After a brief silence, Tooms joined in at last.  "Just
recently, Dr Scully, you have gone far outside of your
jurisdiction, outside the State of Maryland altogether,
concerning a case that has been properly closed."

"You will have to specify.  I do not recall going outside
my jurisdiction at all."

"You do not consider your recent trips to West Virginia
and Pennsylvania, your demand of information from Dr
Scanlon, to be *within* your jurisdiction?"

"I demanded nothing.  I asked to be allowed to help and was
refused.  And since I was on my own time, the People of the
State of Maryland are out nothing for my efforts."

"Why pursue a closed case?"

"The case of the vehicular deaths is closed.  The case of the
cancer clusters is still unsolved."

"Alien abductions are *surely* beyond our jurisdiction, Dr
Scully!"

"If there are abductions involved, they are by very terrestrial,
very human beings.  My tentative hypothesis is that we are
dealing with an environmental carcinogen that someone has an
interest in concealing."

"What sort of interest could there be in concealing a --
an 'environmental carcinogen'?"

"I'll learn that when I learn who ran me off the road."
After a ringing silence, she asked, "Will that be all,
sir?"

"For now.  More deliberation is clearly needed."  Which
Ross mentally translated, *formal hearing on the way.*

Dr Scully only said, "Thank you, sir," rose from
her seat and left the conference room, Ross and Mulder
flanking her.

After a moment, Ross ventured, "Surely those are not
serious complaints?"

"Throwing the book," said Dr Scully.  "Most of them will
vanish, if not before the hearing, before its end."

Mulder said, "If they want you out, they'll find a way."

"You could work for the FBI," said Ross.

"Thanks for the thought, Ross," she said, "but I'll see if
Physicians for Human Rights has a slot for a pathologist."


=====     =====
AUTHOR's NOTEs:  The structure of the Maryland and West Virginia
State Medical Examiner's Offices are as accurate as I can make
them.  Procedures and protocols are mostly from the King County,
Washington, ME's Office, since they publish  their manual online.
Plus whatever else I could find.

The state of the DC Office of the Medical Examiner is taken from
news articles.  It was in serious decline starting in the late
1980s.  In April of 1998, Dr Jonathan L. Arden was appointed
Chief Medical Examiner, and promised technical and financial
support in putting the office back together.  This story takes
place in early-to-mid 1996, at the end of Dr. Joye Carter's term
as Chief M.E.

I couldn't find Perkey, W Va in the USGS Geographic Names
Information System, but the zip code given (26301) is that of
Clarksburg, the county seat of Harrison County.  It's also the
zip code of the Clarksburg Resident Agency of the Pittsburgh
Field Office.  Since the leprosarium address was a rural route,
I didn't need to do much more with Perkey than locate it
geographically, so I made it a rural suburb to the
north-northwest of Clarksburg proper.

Allentown, on the other hand, is easy to find.  It's the site
of a resident agency, under the Philadelphia Field Office.

MUFON exists; Chris Carter did not make it up.  There are
state and regional branches all over; MUFON International
[http://hotx.com/ansen/mufon/core.nclk] is in Texas.

The National Bioethics Advisory Commission
[http://bioethics.gov/cgi-bin/bioeth_counter.pl] and its Human
Subjects Subcommittee exist, too.  It got going in 1996.

Several human rights groups have web sites:
   Amnesty International USA [http://www.amnestyusa.org/home.html]
is primarily concerned with prisoners of conscience and the
disappeared.
   Americas Watch is now part of Human Rights Watch
[http://www.hrw.org/hrw/home.html]
   Physicians for Human Rights [http://www.phrusa.org/] is based
in Boston.  It did indeed open its International Forensic
Program in 1995.
   Global Lawyers and Physicians [http://glphr.org/] was founded
in 1996.  Its contact address is in Boston.
   Citizens Against Human Rights Abuse
[http://www.calweb.com/~welsh/index.htm] began in 1991.  It
does appear to have credibility problems.
=====     =====

Lee Burwasser