From: Mary Ruth Keller Date: Sun, 05 Jul 1998 18:02:30 -0400 (EDT) Subject: "Zurvan" Part 12 of 12 =====o============================================o===== "Zurvan" (revised) by Mary Ruth Keller Part 12 of 12 E-mail: mkeller@universe.digex.net Disclaimed in Chapter I =====o============================================o===== Chapter XII - The Grey Havens -----o----------------------------------------------------o----- When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough; When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow; When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain- air, Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair! When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade; When blossom like the shining snow is on the orchid laid; When shower and Sun upon the Earth with fragrance fill the air, I'll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair. When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold, Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold; When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West, Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best! When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown; When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town; When honey spills and apple swells, though wind be in the West, I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best! ... Together we will take the road that leads into the West, And far away will find the road where both our hearts may rest. "The Two Towers" J. R. R. Tolkien -----o----------------------------------------------------o----- Secluded Research Facility Zairian savannah Wednesday, April 15, 1998 10:41 pm Saunders pointed down into the chasm of what had been the floor. "I think I see why the space was unguarded!" Rising on a hydraulic base, a long tube-shaped framework gleamed in the sun. Two brown-haired women were working, one at a panel controlling the lift, the other at a seat pointed away from her. The petite woman inside the superstructure glanced over at the hovering four, then called out in a series of clicks and buzzes. At the command, the long tool she held melted to the floor to reform itself into the shape of Luther. As she released a green lever, the brown-haired woman at the controls checked their visitors. "Oh, it's you. So, that is how long it takes the gas to wear off. We had wondered when you would awaken or whether we would have to carry you to safety." Once the base of the lift ceased vibrating, she stepped across the floor to Mulder and Scully. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be locating your sister, er, Samantha?" Mulder's lips parted in surprise. "We were. Why are you here?" She pointed behind her. "That. We still want to leave as we had originally planned. But that is the only vessel capable of interstellar transport. Your documents were the key that helped us find it." The agents exchanged a glance before Scully muttered, "I wonder which of you was following us in Greece?" In answer, the dark-haired, dark-suited man they remembered from Athens appeared from behind the framework. "I was. Some acts require a decision-maker, not," he said as he waved contemptuously towards the brown-haired women, "those who think or those who build." The hulking form of Pilot popped up beside him. The Bavarian brushed past them from the corridor. "Perhaps now you understand that we bear you no ill-will." He smirked at the surprise registering on Mulder's and Scully's faces. "Oh, thank you for the rest, courtesy of your Bureau. After the exertions of the island, it was welcome. But, excuse me, we are working on something of a deadline here, literally, thanks to the old men in Bonn." A form shimmered down the side of the tube like a waterfall, materializing into Aurora. "Soldiers. Take charge and take credit. The man who wrote those notes was like you, so it was well that the two in Europe were warriors as was he. It is also well that the three of them will sleep through the return voyage." She turned to the two women with brown hair. "The mixtures should be optimum at present." After they nodded, she brushed her way past the four humans to step into the hall. Mulder trotted after her. "Where are you going?" But the alien sent back no answer, quickening Mulder's pace. He could hear the footsteps of the others behind him, accelerating to catch up as the bulk of the woman in front of them began shrinking. 'Aurora''s arms flattened, growing a fringe of iridescent feathers. Her pale fleshy face collapsed into a blue head and a needle-thin bill. The vast bulk had been reduced to that of a hummingbird, which, after a single backwards glance, took off down the hall. Scully was running alongside her partner, shouting over to him. "She can hide anywhere like that!" He spared her a glance. "An insect could do that job better!" The partners halted before an open lab door. Inside, the thick black benches had been covered with small Pyrex vats, each containing an expanding mass of the viscous substance they had seen last in a lab in Newhalem, Washington. A tiny winged form was siphoning off minuscule portions of the mass with its bill, darting around the lab to deposit the contents of its beak into containers of sand. That task finished, 'Aurora' rematerialized, using her fingers to activate the heaters in the room. Scully whispered. "But how is that possible? The Archaeon should dissolve a bird's beak as easily as our own teeth." She began approaching the alien, who had returned to hummingbird form to seed a new line of containers. Saunders spoke from his spot by Mulder's elbow. "Not if the beak is made of something other than apatite, Agent Scully. All they need to use is the form, not the exact materials." He shook his head. "I was wrong to agree to come here. Alien technology truly is centuries ahead of our own. Nothing we do will stop the forward progress we have seen." Knox loaded two ceramic bullets into her weapon, then assumed a firing stance. "There's still plenty we can do." Scully pushed the other woman's gun down. "No, Saunders is right. But we might be able to reason with them." The iridescent bird flitted from one face to the next, then began morphing back into human form. His hazel eyes glowing, Mulder turned to 'Aurora'. "What about it? What do you want so you'll go away and won't bother us anymore?" An array of fabrics swished as the round woman approached them. "We have given you the path to greater sentience: devote your species' intellect to cleansing your planet of the destruction your carelessness has caused. You have created the tools of your own salvation or extinction. We care neither way." Knox jammed the weapon in the woman's stomach. "Oh, please. What is it? Are you in some war with another species that sends you out to look for raw materials to collect? Will you be returning with a conquering army that will reduce us all to mindless drudges?" 'Aurora''s mass reformed around the weapon and the hand supporting it. "What? A woman of your intelligence *believes* the propaganda you pass out as entertainment?" There was a brief constriction of her stomach muscles. Knox backed away, shaking her hand. Saunders grasped her by the arm. "This will *not* work. Don't you see?" Knox straightened. "But a well-placed detonation will destroy that last vessel of theirs." Pointing his own weapon at the brown-haired woman, Mulder shook his head. "No. I won't let you do that." Scully stared up at him. "Mulder! What are you saying? She may still be armed!" Shrugging off his partner's concern, Mulder kept his focus on Knox. "They'll leave whether we obstruct them or not." Saunders looked over. "Miss Knox, use that intelligence Bill Mulder prized so highly. If they could take a vessel nearly demolished fifty years earlier and rebuild it in this short time, they can recover from any acts of sabotage we might think to perform." He rose, knocking the dust off his knees. "But there is another way." --o-0-o-- Skinner Residence Falls Church, Virginia Friday, April 17, 1998 8:27 pm Nichols was pacing in front of Walter Skinner's fireplace. He paused long enough to glare at the bald Assistant Director, then resumed his angry perambulations. Rosen had watched her former partner long enough. "Nic, sit down. Pendrell's an agent; he's sure to be fine in the field." The red-haired man flushed at the mention of his name. "Th-thank you, Agent, I mean, Doctor Rosen. But I'd still prefer not to go with you. I'm not a good shot." He gripped the soft padding of the brocade armchair. Skinner rose, as agitated as Nichols. "Agent Pendrell is fully qualified for the task. Just because I'm leaving you two behind," he said as he set his teeth, "there's more going on here, Phil, than simply two agents in the desert. I shouldn't have to tell you that." Nichols, his hands on his hips, rounded on the taller man. "Exactly! You need to take the most seasoned people you have with you." He glanced over to meet Pendrell's wide blue eyes. "No offense, son." Pendrell held up both hands, but kept silent. Rosen walked to stand between the two men, looking first to Nichols, then Skinner. "You're concerned you may be caught in the NATO cross-fire, so you want us to keep clear." Skinner stepped back to sit again. "Exactly. If something happens and the four of us don't come back, you two have to keep the work going." He passed Nichols a safe-deposit key. "The documentation is all in there." All color drained from Pendrell's face. "It's that serious?" Nichols advanced on him. "It is, Pendrell. We have an inkling as to the extent of the Consortium in this country: their goals, aims, and forces. But this," he explained as he glanced at the floor, "this *thing* is like a hydra: lop off one head and two more rise in its place. The work we all did for the trials has the American Organization on the ropes, but there are European and Asian factions we are only now beginning to guess at." Rosen knelt in front of the red-haired man. "Arthur, think what happens if there's a Group like what we've exposed in China. Over a quarter of the world's population is under the control of a dictatorial government. There's no need for an Organization to worry about secrecy or concealment or paying lip service to the rule of law over there." Pendrell scrubbed his face with both hands. "With the economic engine they're spinning up, the power they will have at their disposal in the Three Gorges Dam, and all those people," he concluded, shaking his head, "we have no choice. We have to do this." Pushing himself to his feet, he stood in front of the Assistant Director. "I'm ready, Sir. There's just someone I need to say goodbye to first." Rising, Skinner glanced in the direction of his master bedroom. "We all have to make our farewells, Agent Pendrell." After the red-haired man departed, Skinner turned to Nichols. "Phil, despite any problems you and I have had in the past, you must see - " Nichols bit his moustache once, then extended his hand. "Walt, I only want what's best for the Bureau." He pumped the ex-Marine's arm fiercely. "If you run into any problems, any at all, just holler, and we'll be there with bells on." Skinner walked the former partners to the door. "I'm counting on it, Phil." He faced the brunette. "You keep this old buzzard in line until we get back." After a quick nod, Rosen grasped the Director's arm. "What do you want to do with Cynthia? She can come back with us so Sharon won't have to worry about her." Skinner missed Nichols' odd glance at his former partner in his rush to assure her. "She's fine here. I'll have a couple of men keep the house under surveillance. Sharon knows what to do." --o-0-o-- Scully Residence Norfolk, Virginia Saturday, April 18, 1998 11:17 am "John-John! How many times have I told you: Don't play in the street!" After leaning away from her open front window, Val Scully set Little Chuck in his playpen, before trotting down the oil- stained concrete driveway to the sidewalk. "Get back here, right now!" John Scully, his almost three year old legs pumping furiously, diverted the neon green plastic tricycle up onto the sidewalk, but continued until he had reached the main road of their development. Sitting there, arms crossed, he watched the traffic whiz by, waiting for his Mother to come up behind him. Before she did, a Volvo station wagon rolled to a halt in front of him. He beamed at the driver, then flung himself at the passenger door, beating the handle in his delight. "Gamma, Gamma!" Within, the Pomeranian was scratching and whining at the glass. After the engine's rumble ceased, Margaret Scully slid from behind the wheel, holding both arms out straight as she knelt on the sidewalk. "John-John. Did you miss me?" A frantic clutch of short arms around her neck was all the answer she needed. "Mom? Is that you?" Val had finally caught up with them. Margaret disentangled one arm to wrap around her daughter-in-law. "Yes, I'm back. How are all of you?" Hot wheels, petulant grandson, and younger woman were all bundled into the station wagon for the short trip up the road. Charles Scully had ascended from the basement to check out the noise. "Mom?" His second son was whining from the play-pen, so he scooped him up before stepping out to the car. "Why didn't you call?" Margaret waited until she was standing to answer. "I need you to do a favor for Dana." Nodding, Charlie escorted the rest of them within. --o-0-o-- Lunch concluded, Margaret and Charles were washing up Power Rangers mugs and plates while Val took John and little Chuck into the front yard to play until they were sleepy. The dark-haired woman glanced in the direction of the little canine, curled up on a towel in the corner before she smiled at her younger son. "They've grown while I've been gone." Charles set a spoon in the drainer. "I'm sure they have. When you see them every day, you don't notice until they need a new pair of shoes or something. John-John sure loved your hippo and croc stories. Glad you've had a chance to do a little travelling, after all the times we've been away." He rested both hands on the edge of the sink. "You look worried, Mom." Margaret twisted the green and white checked dishtowel anxiously. "I've seen some very serious things, Charles." She rubbed the ceramic tray Val had used for sandwiches until it was past dry. "I've met the woman your Father found out about. She's not at all what he feared." Charles sighed. "Mom, it isn't only that. The man gave away his daughter to save his job. How can Dana trust his son?" Margaret slid the thick platter silently onto a cabinet shelf. "Not all sons are like their Fathers." Charlie began wiping down the kitchen table. "No, some are worse. The last time I spoke with Dana she tried to shoot me. She thought I was some kind of alien. How can he have affected her like that?" Margaret shook her head. "If you'd seen the documents I did, you'd think so too." She hooked the edge of the towel over the left-most of a line of Shaker-pegs. "Fox Mulder is a very troubled soul, Charles, but - " The red-haired Navy officer slid one of the ladderback chairs out to settle into it. "Oh, do tell, Mom. He'd be the worst man for Dana imaginable, and I'm glad you've finally figured that out." Resting both hands on the table, Margaret leaned into her son's face. "Then why are you driving her towards him?" Charles crossed his arms. "What? Bill and I have warned her about him, time and time again!" Margaret settled into the chair to stare across the potted pasychandra at him. "It's odd, but your Father and I had exactly these same arguments about Melissa." She rested her left hand on her right. "I wanted to be firm with her, to set strict rules and guidelines. But Bill told me, 'Maggie, we raised her to know right from wrong, and with our support, she'll make the correct choices in her life.' Of course," she said, a ripple of discontent crossing her features, "that was before Dana and her Bureau decision." Charles began fiddling with a loose straw on one of the rattan placemats. "You shouldn't have let her do it. You should have tried to talk her out of it." Margaret shook her head. "That's exactly what Bill tried, and look where Dana is now. Too much pressure made her run off in the wrong direction." Leaning over the table, Charles rested his hand on top of hers. "I'm glad you agree with Bill and me." Margaret shook her head. "No. I don't. Dana may have made a rash decision at the time, but someone has to stop the evils I've seen." She slid her right hand free to pat his. "Only, she doesn't have to think she needs to do it alone. She needs our support just as much as you need Val's." Charles drew his hand back. "What are you saying, Mom?" Margaret interlaced her fingers. "I'm saying that Dana's work is as important, in the overall sense, as is what you and Bill do. You're defending your country and everything it stands for when you step onto the deck of a ship, and in her own way, so is she." She held up her hand to silence the objections thundering through her son's mind. "No, I've thought about this for quite some time now, and I want you to hear me out, Charles. Dana is very much working at the limits of her strength most of the time - " Charles pounded his fist on the table. "I know! He's driven her to that." "Charles!" Margaret narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't interrupt! No, the nature of her *work* has driven her to that. She needs support, both physical *and* emotional. If she's injured, she turns to her partner before she turns to her own blood. If she's worried, she talks to him, not to me. If you close off the rest of the family from her, she'll turn to the only family she has, *his*. Is that what you want?" The red-haired man shook his head. "She spent Christmas helping another agent pack her house, Bill said." Margaret nodded. "That's what she'll continue to do until she feels she can come back to us." Charles sighed. "So, what do you suggest, Mom? That we throw a big 'We love you, Dana' party? That we welcome that Jew into our family with huge grins?" Margaret was on her feet. "Charles! I thought you put that nonsense behind you! What does it take for you to learn!" She crossed to stand, her hands on her hips, in front of him. "If Dana chooses to make Fox Mulder her husband, which, after spending time with him, I think she has more sense than to do, I *will* welcome him into my home with open arms. When their marriage falls apart, which it *would* do, I'll provide my daughter with all the support I can." The red-haired officer was huffing in disdain. She bent forward. "But you can prevent any of that happening by opening the rest of her family up to her again, you and Bill. All it would take is a simple face-to-face apology, and an occasional 'Hi, how are you?' phone call afterward." Crossing her arms, she began to pace. "Charles, you and Dana aren't competing for anyone's attention anymore. You're both adults. When she returns, apologize to her, spend a little time with her. That's all I ask." Charles rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "Mom," he offered as he rose, "I'm as uncomfortable with this distance between Dana and the rest of us as you are. If you think it will work, I'll talk to Bill and we can give it a try. Will that make you happy?" Margaret nodded. "Yes. That's a start. There's one other thing I need from you, though." Charles cocked his head. "Oh?" Margaret sighed. "I left it out in the car. I'll be right back." --o-0-o-- Townhouse Reston, Virginia Sunday, April 19, 1998 8:17 am A loud rapping had 'Ace' rising from her computer chair to hobble to the door. After checking through the view hole, she called over her shoulder, "Drew, 'Andrew''s outside!" She threw back the deadbolts to admit their colleague. The red-haired McConnell glanced down at her foot as she shook it. "You've got to break yourself of the habit of sitting your ankle when you code, 'Ace'." She smiled. "What brings you here so early, 'Andrew'?" 'Charlie' stepped to his lover's side. "There isn't some emergency session of the Senate, is there?" McConnell rubbed his nose under the black plastic frames. "No. Nothing like that. I've been trying to reach 'Finn' for the past couple of days, but he's not answering his phones. Matheson's beginning to ask questions." The lovers exchanged a glance, then 'Charlie' answered, "I saw him last about three days ago. He seemed worried, but when I asked, all he said was that he had some thinking to do. You mean he hasn't been going in to work?" McConnell shook his head. "No. I know there are details of our *other* work we don't share with each other for security's sake, but to just disappear like this has me worried." 'Ace' rubbed the back of her neck. "I hope he isn't still upset about how the first trial came out. The exposure we'll take care of, and we've had a meeting with the Eastern European Groups to set a couple of ideas I've had into motion." After grasping several Computer Shoppers by their red spines to move them to the floor, McConnell sank into the sofa cushions. "Oh? This is news." He stretched both arms along the back of the couch, forcing the couple into one of the overstuffed armchairs. 'Ace' balanced on the rounded cloth arm. "We know the shape- shifter's last destination was somewhere in Africa, and we know there are all those old Consortium warehouses scattered across the Continent." McConnell shrugged. "So, what makes you think they'd end up at one?" 'Charlie' scratched at his unshaven chin. "What else is there of interest in Africa?" McConnell waved the question away. 'Ace' stepped around her coffeetable to settle beside the red- haired man. "I've suggested to the Eastern Europeans that they'd make good targets for NATO exercises." McConnell leaned forward. "What about the rare minerals and precious metals that had been stockpiled there?" 'Charlie' shook his head. "Not a problem. The old men had moved them out of Africa long ago. They're far more useful here in present day electronics than taking up space in some dusty warehouse in the desert." The red-haired man settled back again. "So all the shape-shifters would find would be our stockpiles of fiberglass, mica, or all that thirty year old technology. Something tells me none of that would be very useful for an advanced civilization." 'Ace' shook her head. "Not at all. The Eastern Groups also told them that Black Lung had approached them." McConnell's eyes narrowed, obscuring the green irises. "We should never have let him live. Did they say what he wanted?" 'Charlie' shrugged. "The same thing he told me. Access. Although, with knowing him, it's more than that." He rubbed his chin. "Knowing him, he has something brewing right now." McConnell rose. "What are you thinking, 'Charlie'?" The heavy-set man stood and walked over to rest on hand on 'Ace''s shoulder. "I'm afraid to say." She tucked herself under his arm. "Don't be. Until we can pin down where he stands, we have to figure out what he'll do next, and you've had the most contact with him." She rubbed his back. "So, what is it?" He sighed. "I'm afraid, Lisa, we've totally lost control of everything we thought we had gained." The three exchanged hollow glances. McConnell crossed his arms. "I refuse to believe that. After I locate 'Finn', we can disappear for a while. That old man won't live forever." The couple nodded. --o-0-o-- Apartment Silver Spring, Maryland Sunday, 12:49 am Arthur Pendrell muttered angrily when he heard the knocking at his apartment door. "Wanna sleep." After a moment's concentration, he decided that he had been dreaming, then tightened his arm around Terry Phillips' bare shoulders. "Agent Pendrell?" The words floated in to him again. "Please? Are you in there?" He jerked. Terry lifted her cheek from his chest. "Who is that, Art? Who would be banging on your door this late at night?" Sighing, he disentangled himself from her, slid on his jeans and a bathrobe, then bent over to peck her nose. "Don't get up. I'll take care of it." She mumbled something he didn't quite catch before she clutched his pillow. Running his hand through his hair, Pendrell flicked on a hall light, then peered out through the spyhole. A gasp, then he was throwing back the deadbolt. "Mrs. Scully? You're back so soon?" Margaret Scully thrust the rewrapped kit towards him. "Yes. I kept it in a cooler with ice, just as the instructions said." Stepping aside, he waved her in. "Well, thank you. For blood and skin, that was more than you had to, but thank you." He waited until she had settled uneasily on his overstuffed couch to take the kit. "Let me put this in the refrigerator." Folding her hands, Margaret waited, nearly leaping off the cushions when another pair of feet shuffled down the hall. "Hello?" Having struggled into one of Pendrell's sweatpants and a shirt, Terry Phillips was tucking her long brown hair into a barrette when she entered. "Art, who was that? Hello?" Both women stared at Pendrell when he returned. The red-haired agent cleared his throat, then tucked Terry Phillips under his arm. "Mrs. Scully, this is a friend, Terry Phillips. She works at the Bureau, too." Margaret stood. "I shouldn't keep you. But, I have to know. When will those samples be ready? What is Dana looking for?" After Pendrell sent Phillips a sidelong glance, he stepped away from her. "Proof, Mrs. Scully. She needs to know that her family will be okay." Terry grasped Pendrell's hand. "I think I'll take a shower." She vanished into the darkness of the hallway without waiting for his nod. The red-haired agent advanced on Margaret Scully. "I need to know, too." Margaret nodded. "I understand. But why? Dana said you were helping her on your own time." Pendrell stuck his hands in the pockets of his plaid robe. "I'm an agent, Mrs. Scully. I loved those old G-man movies when I was a kid, and I knew that was what I wanted to be when I grew up. That was before I discovered chemistry and decided I loved that, too. I know my marksmanship is so bad I could never be a Field Agent like Dana, but the Bureau needs technical people too, maybe even more than they realize. They've finally hired a real scientist to run the Bureau labs, and we're all so excited." A broad smile spread over his freckled face. "It's great to have all the things you want in one place." He stopped, surprised that the woman in front of him seemed to hang on every word. "These things that Dana investigates, they're horrible. If the Bureau doesn't stop them, who will?" Margaret covered her hand with her mouth, feeling slightly awed by what she had just heard. She turned to the door. "Well, I won't keep you from your friend, Agent Pendrell." He flushed beet red, blinking at the wall separating the living room from the bathroom for a few moments before he replied. "That's okay, Ma'am. We're both agents, so we know this isn't a nine to five type of job." He escorted her to the door. "Dana gave me your cel phone number, so I'll call you as soon as I know anything. Do you have a place to stay in town?" Margaret nodded. "I won't be headed back to Annapolis just yet, so I'll use Dana's apartment. I'm sure the plants could use a little water. She's very good at killing any rosemary cuttings I start for her." Pendrell grinned. "Well, drive carefully." He stared at the closed door for a moment before heading into his bedroom to slip off his clothes. Tugging the sweatshirt down smooth, Terry emerged. "She's gone?" Seeing him standing in his grey boxers in front of his closet, a tweed jacket in his hand, she crossed her arms. "Art, don't tell me you're going in to work now. The testing can wait." He shook his head. "No, this is too important." Sighing, she pulled the shirt off. "Then I'm coming with you." After blowing her a kiss, he knelt to search out a matching pair of shoes. --o-0-o-- National Airport Monday, April 20, 1998 8:21 am Walter Skinner rolled his eyes at the group of men approaching him. "Agent Pendrell, would you deal with this? We can't have them coming with us." Raising his eyes from his latest Journal of Electrochemistry, the red-haired agent sighed. "I'm afraid if they want to come, Sir, there's very little we can do. They'll either sit with us on the plane, or show up in Nairobi on their own." Langly hopped over to Skinner's side to clap him on the shoulder. "Hey, Kojak, what's shaking'!" His grin faded under the older man's unyielding glare. Smoothing down his suit jacket, Byers moved into the bald Director's line of view. "Mister Skinner, we have information on Agent Mulder's sister we need to deliver to him in person." He bent forward. "We also have something we want to show you regarding the assassins who killed all those people at the Courthouse." Frohike pulled at the neon green necktie he had fastened around his polo shirt collar for the occasion. "Agent Scully would want us to be there, Sir." He patted a notebook he held. "We have the plans for certain military exercises right here." Riding a sudden surge of adrenaline, Pendrell found his feet. "Guys, look." He cleared his throat. "We really can take over for you." He reached for the black binder. "Honestly, we can." Frohike clutched the papers more tightly. "I think not, Beaker Boy. Have you been to the Arctic with us? Did you help us carry Mulder and Scully off the ice?" He shook his head. "You were safe in your nice clean lab in your shiny white jacket." The little man pranced angrily. Langly grasped his friend's shoulder. "Chill, dude, he gave his G- lady a rock last week." Pendrell gaped. "How did you?" Langly waved the question away. "So, you guys mind flying in the big chairs?" "People!" Skinner's bellow turned the heads of several passengers reading around them. "We are on *official* government business." He gritted his teeth. "We do *not* fly First Class." Byers held up both hands. "With respect, Director Skinner, we've already taken care of the upgrade. When you see the amount of material we brought with us, you'll be relieved we've reserved the seats we did. We'll be spreading out over a table for the duration of the trip to Athens." Pendrell looked up at the Director helplessly. "Sir, I warned you." Skinner closed his eyes momentarily. "Yes, Agent Pendrell, you did." --o-0-o-- Over the Atlantic Ocean Monday, 4:44 pm Walter Skinner examined the diagram showing troop deployments carefully. Tapping a red rectangle, he queried, "These are the Neo-Nazis?" Frohike nodded. "That's right, big guy. The European Group operating out of Deutschland has been working insidiously among the populations. They're former Stasi, the lot of them, but they learned their propaganda skills by studying the National Socialists. If it hadn't been for that overtly clumsy attempt up at the Pittsburgh trial, we would never have had a trail to follow backwards." Byers rested both palms on the papers in front of him. "With the ECC, there are controls and safe-guards, so an outside covert force would be uncovered immediately." Skinner nodded. "Instead, go into the barracks of raw recruits, exploit their uncertainty and confusion, and it isn't necessary. The army is transformed right under their noses." Pendrell pushed a satellite image of the savanna into the center of their table. "But why select this site to stage exercises? The stated justification was to provide NATO troops with desert training for the next time Saddam begins shooting off his mouth. Zaire isn't like Iraq." Langly grinned. "That's the beauty of the scheme. Hussein has all these underground bunkers, and the facility they're planning to attack is essentially a sunken skyscraper. The rest of NATO has been told it's full of pan-Arabists, so they can bomb the living daylights out of it with a clear conscience." Skinner rubbed his chin. "But the Neos go in first under the guise of an humanitarian patrol. They put out the claim to be checking for hostages who *may* have been taken to a facility with solar- powered electricity and a water recycling plant." He narrowed his eyes at Byers. "Why do you think this is where the shape-shifters are holed up?" The bearded Gunman sighed. "It's the code key Mulder and Scully worked out in Berne with his Mom." He lifted a map of the US from under the piles of papers. "Look, the dollhouses were bound for different cities in the US." He drew circles with a red pen on the map. "Now, these are the locations of pentagonally shaped discolorations in the savanna as obtained from the SPOT satellite." He shoved another map alongside. "Old D'Amato was encoding everything he knew about the Consortium's plans in a way that not even your old boss would guess, or so he hoped." Pendrell blinked at the Assistant Director. "Sir?" Skinner took off his wire-rims to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Agent Pendrell, I once worked for the other side." He dropped the frames back in place. "But there was precious little I learned as a result." He sent the red-haired man a stiff-jawed glare. "Shall we continue?" Byers tapped the US map. "The dollhouse bound for Savanna had a unique room in it, a smoking parlor, believe it or not. The clue that tipped us off was this little silver trunk." Langly pushed his long blond hair off his face. "Silver trunk, silver cylinder. The connection becomes even more obvious when one reads that the silver trunk was noted as damaged in shipping." Skinner leaned back. "They want to destroy the shape-shifters before they can rebuild the older craft and depart." Pendrell smoothed his tie. "Sir, there's a piece of the puzzle missing." The Gunmen focused on him. "What?" The three chorused. Blue eyes met Frohike's brown. "In most schemes for interstellar travel I've read about, there's a single simple quandry that must be solved. Any terrestrial vessel first must escape from a planet's atmosphere, then its gravitational pull, before it can begin its longer voyage. Now, that requires a lot of fuel being expended in a few seconds. For the interstellar parts, there needs to be far less energy expended, but it has to last for centuries or millennia, with no sure guarantee of replenishment." Frohike felt his hackles rise. "That's a nice idea, Agent Peabody, but the shape-shifters were preparing to leave from the Arctic in a silver cylinder like the one in the papers. It obviously isn't a problem for this advanced civilization." He stuck out his chin. Pendrell sighed. "Hey, maybe they have solved it. But physics is physics. You can't beat it. They may have developed some advanced theory of Quantum Mechanics to exploit, but these are still two separate problems." Langly shook his head at his friend. "Chill, Fro, remember the rock." Skinner glared at Pendrell and Frohike in turn. "Okay, you said you had something on the assassins?" Glad for the distraction, Byers tugged a folder from his briefcase. "Yes, Sir. We've compared the fingerprints lifted from the two corpses against your Bureau records - " Skinner eyed Pendrell. "I take it I'm not supposed to ask how these three gained access to the FBI database?" Pendrell nodded. "Later, Sir. Whatever security leak they exploited to get through the firewall will need to be closed upon our return." He cocked an eyebrow at Frohike, who glowered. Byers sighed. "Anyway, as I was saying..." --o-0-o-- High-rise Apartment Crystal City Arlington, Virginia Monday, 6:41 pm Reading over the names on the list, the old man in grey sighed. Dropping the page to the glass-topped table, he looked over at Luther, packing boxes from his move still stacked haphazardly beside him. "These were those found to be loyal to the Four still?" The bald man nodded. "Yes, Sir. We passed the list off to the woman and she issued the termination orders herself. Right now, our people are killing off theirs, one by one, and it's all proceeding in perfect agreement with Organization rules." He sighed. "I never thought - " He stopped, taking off his black- framed glasses. The Smoker arched a brow. "You never thought what?" Luther rubbed his cheek aimlessly. "I never thought a woman could be so ruthless. It isn't like it was in the old days." A puff. "It never was like it was in the old days." Tamping out the Morley in an granite ashtray, the old man stood, stretching. "You never knew Caroline Podhowitz; she was before your time." Luther's dark eyes narrowed. "I've heard stories. She was the best, wasn't she?" He stood, bouncing on his toes to stay alert. The old man stared out over the Potomac. "Yes, Luther, she was. The first and still the best." A dim light glowed in the Smoking man's eyes, then was banished. "It's part of what makes her son so dangerous." The bald man rubbed his flabby stomach, wondering when he could get away for some dinner. "So, why not just add their names to the list? Finish the problem once and for all? Now that the alliance is back in order, the Europeans could take care of them and our hands would be clean." A blur of motion, then the old man was snarling in Luther's face. "That is *not* an option." Holding up both hands, Luther took a step to the side. "Hey, I was just asking. Sorry." Another Morley was lit with a match gripped by trembling fingers. "There are things you should not ask. Caroline conveyed her threat to me through you, in case you'd forgotten." Luther shook his head. "Yeah, right. I didn't know whether that was all talk or what." The Smoker's dark eyes met his. "Caroline always does what she says she will. The same was true of her first husband, and is true of her second." A puff. "Bill Mulder collected evidence against us, but he never told anyone else, outside of myself, that he had done so. It was how he was able to make me swear to protect his family. I have no wish to see the Organization exposed, do you?" Luther's bald head wobbled on a thickening neck. The old man continued. "Fox Mulder has always been prudent in his alliances. We may, one day, be able to move against them all, but not today." He sighed, exhaling blue curls. "We have unpleasant work ahead of us, Luther. Necessary, but unpleasant." The Morley waved towards the door. "That will be all." A nod, then the younger man was out the door, glad for his dismissal. --o-0-o-- Nairobi Airport Nairobi, Kenya Tuesday, April 21, 1998 12:03 am Walter Skinner was pacing beside the luggage carrel, waiting for the twenty-seven boxes the Gunmen had shipped to appear through the doorway. "Where is that stuff! We're running out of time!" He muttered several further condemnations through gritted teeth. Pendrell turned to Langly. "If the information Max gave us is correct, the timetable for the exercises was moved up by a week. That means we can't go in overland." Frohike alternated between glaring out the luggage gate and at the red-haired agent. "So, do you have a better plan?" Pendrell sighed. "Actually, I think I do." He crossed to a wall- mounted layout of the airport, tapping a spot at the other end of the terminal on the diagram with his finger. "Let's hope somebody there speaks English well." Skinner spun. "Agent Pendrell! Where do you think you're going?" The red-haired man looked back over his shoulder. "To rent us a plane, Sir." Skinner stalked over to him. "What? We can't afford to let some local in on where we're headed." Pendrell shook his head. "We won't have to, Sir. I've been flying small aircraft since I was in high school." Looking over at Langly, he gulped. "You guys packed a GPS receiver, didn't you?" The blond Gunmen nodded. "Yes, of course." Bouncing towards the agents, he pointed to one of the boxes coming though the weather flaps of the gate. "We've even figured out how to defeat the encoding DOD uses when they want to lock out the hi-res modes. Once we get our gear set up, we can have you updated on the weather or whatever you need, flying G-man." He grinned. "Radical. I'd like to see Mulder's face when you dip down out of the sky." A stray thought crossed Pendrell's mind. "I hope we'll have that chance." --o-0-o-- "Well, if that's all that's available, I guess so." Pendrell looked to the Assistant Director before he pulled out his travel money. Agitated, Skinner watched him pay, but kept silent until they were on their way back to the luggage area. "Agent Pendrell, a plane that small - " The red-haired man shrugged. "I know, Sir. A four-seater means I'll be on my own and it'll be packed on the way back. But if we don't reach the facility before the Neos do, they don't stand a chance." He looked up at the senior agent. "I've flown at night in snowstorms to my parent's home in the Adirondacks, Sir. I can do this. I *know* I can." Skinner shook his head. "That was never a question, Agent Pendrell. I just don't feel right letting you go in on your own." "I won't be. I'm sure the Gunmen have rigged up some satellite- linked communication system so we can be in contact at all times." He grinned at the three men, stacking boxes hurriedly. "In fact, I'd bet on it." --o-0-o-- Secluded Facility Zairian savannah Tuesday, 1:27 pm Mulder and Saunders had squared off in the hallway, the African- American rigid and straight-backed, the Agent with his hands on his hips as he paced. Mulder stopped in front of the bearded man. "No! Absolutely not! You're worth more to, to *everyone* here!" Saunders crossed his arms. "Agent Mulder, see if you can follow this line of reasoning. If you can't, ask Agent Scully. I'm sure she can. I have told you all I know about the inner workings of the Consortium in days past. What the Four have planned I couldn't begin to guess. If I remain with you, you will have to continue to shield me from assassination attempts. While I don't fear my own death, it will place an undue burden on you in the days ahead, especially if a certain old spy is back in power. He knows your weaknesses, Mulder, better than the Four ever did." Scully stepped between the two men, facing Saunders. "If you think going away with them is any solution, consider this: their home planet may take longer to reach than the rest of your lifespan. When you arrive, there may be something toxic to humans in the atmosphere or in the foodstuffs they consume." Saunders stepped back into the lab. "Well, what about that?" The shape-shifter was seeding more containers while in hummingbird form. After depositing the last sample, she morphed into a diminutive, vaguely humanoid body covered with iridescent scales. Multifaceted, bulging round eyes sat where ears would be on a human head, rotating independently of each other. The mouth stretched around half the skull, opening to breathe in supplement to a tiny pair of nostrils set just above it. A flat white tongue flapped against low square teeth, obviously meant for grinding plants, not tearing flesh. She stretched five elongated fingers towards Saunders, while ridges of spines down her arms waved slightly. The African American reached out to grasp the thin palm. "If this is your true appearance, it bothers me not at all." The white tongue flicked. Then, leaving her hand in Saunders', the fingers shrank to the pudgy digits of 'Aurora'. "If you say so. You will find our atmosphere compatible with your respiratory demands." She smiled at Scully. "As far as your other concerns, we will place him in suspended animation once the vessel departs. While he is sleeping we will correct the genetic mutation that induces his seizures, which was introduced virally late in his life. We will also modify his neural pathways to facilitate communications with our kind once we arrive." Knox stepped forward, her right index finger pointed at the shape- shifter. "But you have said you mean to return to squash us as if you were gods!" She waved both arms. "Unless, of course, we turn to finding this idyllic harmony with nature you find so desirable." 'Aurora' sighed. "The havoc your species has wrecked is no longer a matter for philosophers. You must begin corrective measures now, while it is simple. In one hundred of your planet's cycles, it shall be too late. We have been to many worlds where we have seen the same patterns over and over." 'Aurora' slid her hand out of Saunders' fingers. "We do not threaten, we warn and advise. In the process of developing the technology that will cleanse your planet, you *will* discover effective modes of interstellar transport. This we have also seen in our explorations, differently on each world, but the end will be the same." Knox crossed her arms. "Spare me the sanctimony! You mean to claim Earth for yourselves!" Shaking her head, 'Aurora' adopted the patient look of a teacher with a less-than quick-witted student. "That is not our way. We mean only that life not be extinguished on this world through simian meddling. There are, however, still those at home who see all lesser-evolved species as capable only of destruction. So we wish to bring back an advocate, one who can persuade the majority that such is not the case." She turned to Saunders. "I will warn you: our legal and political systems are extremely arcane." The bearded African-American favored 'Aurora' with the first genuine smile Mulder and Scully had ever seen him wear. "I'm an attorney. I *live* for arcane." Mulder pulled him aside. "If you're certain about this." Saunders nodded. "More certain than I have been of anything in my life. I took an oath to protect this planet from outside invasion, Mister Mulder. Let's just say I'm keeping it in ways the old men never expected." Knox grasped Saunders' arm. "Then I'm going with you." 'Aurora' chuckled, deep and throaty. "Every advocate needs an assistant." Knox sneered over at the dark-haired agent. "I might as well. There's nothing here on earth for me anymore." She pointed at Mulder. "That is most certainly the genetic offspring of the man I respected many years ago, but he is not Bill Mulder's son." Doubling over, Mulder took a step backwards. Scully blocked the older woman's view of her partner. "That's enough, Miss Knox." She took a deep breath, but Mulder reached up to grasp her shoulder. "It's okay, Scully." He looked to 'Aurora'. "How soon do you plan to leave?" "As soon as we have installed the last of the tectosilicate skins." She waved over her shoulder. "These are backups in case of last minute failures. It took a little experimentation to learn to grow them dense enough to serve as a radiation-proof cover for the vessel. We designed these ships to be repaired with what minerals we could expect to find on any rocky planet or asteroid, so the cache of raw materials your Organization built up was more than suitable. Fortunately, the propulsion system was undamaged by either the collision or the transport." She began morphing into hummingbird form again. --o-0-o-- US Embassy Nairobi, Kenya Tuesday, 9:37 pm Skinner leaned over Byers' shoulder to point to a dot on the screen. "Is that him?" The bearded Gunmen nodded. "Yes, Director Skinner, it is." He tapped the other edge of the glass with the eraser of his pencil. "There's the facility. At this speed, Pendrell should be there in four hours." Skinner rubbed his chin. "I hope that's enough time." Tapping a few keys at his machine, Langly brought up a weather map. "So far, looks clear. The jet stream's not taken any dips or curves, so we should have fairly calm conditions." --o-0-o-- Secluded Facility Zairian savannah Tuesday, 10:23 pm 'Aurora' bustled back into the lab where the four had been waiting. "All is prepared." She stood in front of Saunders. "Have you made your farewells?" The bearded man rose. "Yes, I have." He turned to the Agents one final time, exchanging handshakes with them both. "Take care, Agent Mulder. Remember what I told you about the Smoker." Mulder nodded. "Best of luck." Scully stepped away. "That means we hope to never see you again." Something like delight danced behind his dark eyes. "Indeed. But I'll try to arrange to send some patterned radio signal back towards earth." Acting on impulse, Mulder threw his arms around Saunders. "Someone *will* be listening." He patted his back twice before releasing him. Her head held high, Knox preceded them without a word. The three followed Knox and 'Aurora', stopping in the entrance they had opened a few days earlier. Mulder glanced around confusedly. "Where's the cylinder? The floor's closed up again." 'Aurora''s eyes had begun to whirl, but fixed in their human form. "Stowed for lift-off. You will need to leave the facility in a few minutes, but I must set your mind at rest on one point. We do not kill those whose form we adopt, and I did not kill your friend Aurora Luminens. I met her at a UFO convention in Seattle while in a male body. She approached me, looking for that intimacy you simians so enjoy, but, there were limits, as you know. She told me many interesting stories, which is how I could assume her shape once she passed away." Mulder was still staring around the space. "But, where?" As if in answer, the floor began rumbling again. They watched while the hydraulic doors rolled open, and an arrow-shaped probe emerged above the floor. The probe was fastened to the tip of a translucent cone, which rose in front of them. The base of the cone ceased to widen, then a cylinder grew up after it. The upward motion stopped as an opening was pushed through the side. Scully tried to peer into the depths below. "You've constructed a rocket." Engineer appeared in the doorway. "Of course we did. We have been months attempting to rebuild this ancient technological solution. The newer vessels have an alternate klack-tzz drive to permit escape from the surface, but we had neither the time nor the materials to implement that solution here. How is it you can not already have a network of operative space stations to launch deep space probes from?" He waved his hand. "I forget, your petty political conflicts dictate your science objectives. Come, come, all is prepared. The sleeping chambers for the simians are fully functional." Scully looked to 'Aurora'. "If you launch from here, what about the DNA traces?" She stopped in mid-morph, returning to the voluminous shape Scully recognized to answer. "We're taking them with us. How else can we keep a record of your species' variability if you annihilate yourselves prior to our return? We cannot replenish your numbers at a sustainable level if you are extinct." She pointed to Scully's backpack. "You have the ones of interest to you." Mulder tugged her by the arm. "Come'on, Scully, we have to use the escape elevators. We'll never make it to the surface in time if we don't." The pair headed for one of the green sets of doors. --o-0-o-- Zairian savannah Tuesday, 11:47 pm Two sand-scarred doors ground open, revealing two bodies within. The tall man was supine, while the auburn-haired woman was sprawled on her side, propped up by the backpack. Each began to awaken slowly. Mulder rubbed the stubble on his face. "Scully?" He turned his head cautiously, watching his partner struggle to lift her arms. "Hey." He reached out to pat her shoulder. "We made it. The high speed setting didn't kill us." She focused one green-blue eye on his smirk. "Remind me not to take any more joyrides with you, Mulder." His head rocked back and forth on the mesh floor. "Too late. I tried back in March of '92." They staggered from the car just as the facility began to rumble again. The vibrations sent them sprawling, Mulder as much on top of his partner's back as the pack would allow. She called over her shoulder. "If they're launching, it's been fun!" He shouted by her ear. "No, they'll be lifting off from the surface! We have to get as far away as we can!" The agents helped each other upright, then began running, flat out. Behind them, the probe rose, followed by the cone, followed by the rest of the cylinder, growing wider at each joint. Finally, the rocket towered over the surrounding scrub and brown grasses, its translucent length reflecting moonlight along one hundred meters. Mulder and Scully had no time to enjoy the view, scrambling as they were to place as much distance as they could between themselves and the launch vehicle. When the bottom stages of the rocket ignited for real, the deafening rumble sent an extra burst of adrenaline coursing through them. Mulder pulled his partner down behind a low dune. "This is it, we can't get any further away." Nodding, she slipped off the backpack, digging a depression in the sand so she could lie on top of it. "This gets back or else." He grinned. "Now I *know* who the real scientist is, Scully." Sobering, he began digging a trench for his long form. "This may be the only way we survive." The agents raised their heads above the level of the dune. In front of them, the burn continued, shooting flames out all round. Scully dug faster. "When you're ready, I'll bury you, Mulder!" She had to shout over the rumbles. He glared. "No way, Scully! I'll cover your legs, you cover mine! We'll protect our own heads as much as possible! Hurry!" He passed her a patterned red handkerchief to tie over her nose and mouth, then fastened a blue one of his own in place. Nearly concealed in the sand, each pushed their faces into the cool grains and waited. The tremendous rush of air and heat threw more particles over the slight rise, further burying the partners. Then, slowly, the great needle left the ground, seeming to hover momentarily on a cushion of orange and white, before crawling into the sky. As it rose, the illumination moved across the savannah like a massive spotlight. Once the winds ceased, the agents pushed up out of the sand, watching until the rocket disappeared over the horizon, the dunes fading from tan to black in its absence. Mulder draped an arm over his partner's shoulders. "Once that last Saturn Five was launched from the cape, I never thought I'd see a lift-off like that again, Scully." She nodded. "Me either." Wincing, she shook off the grains and lifted the backpack. "I suppose the Land Rover is burning nicely somewhere around here." He stood, then pointed to a small light over the dunes. "Yup." Sighing, she glanced around them. "Okay, which way to Algiers?" She stepped over the edge of the dune, then rolled back into the depressions their bodies had made. "I don't think we buried ourselves deeply enough, this feels like a good sunburn after a day on the beach." After frowning down through the faint illumination of moonlight, Mulder cocked his head. "Scully, you okay?" She was gazing up at the stars. "Just trying to find Polaris so we can set a course back home." A nod, then his eyes were sweeping the heavens. "There." Scully climbed to her feet. "Let's go." But Mulder had grasped her shoulder. "I hear something." She fell silent. "Yes. I hear that, too. It sounds like an engine." The dark-haired agent grunted. "An airplane. Small." Scully shook her head. "It couldn't be." They watched the single headlight grow from a pinprick on the horizon to a full halogen beam. The plane circled once, then set down to land in a dry gully behind them. Slinging her backpack over her left shoulder, Scully began tracking out wide sweeps with both arms as she ran towards the cockpit. A familiar red head emerged through the window. "Hey! Told you I'd take you out flying one day!" His weapon half out of its holster, Mulder stared at the pilot. "Pendrell? Is that you?" Slipping back into his helmet, he grinned. "Who else? Where are the others? And where did that mondo rocket come from?" Scully was tugging the passenger door open. "We'll be the only ones returning with you, Pendrell." The partners dropped into two of the seats, strapping themselves in for take-off. Scully clutched the backpack between her knees, then set it on the floor to grip both armrests. "Hope this isn't as bad as my flight from DC to Athens." Pendrell glanced at her, but asked nothing further, only offering, "I'll see what I can do, Dana." Mulder winced from the seat behind her as he slid his long legs out in front of him. "Yeah, let's see what you can do, Pendrell." After an irritated roll of his eyes towards the man behind him, the pilot waited to query them until they were at altitude. "Okay, Scully, fill me in. What happened to the two who were with you?" Mulder leaned over between their heads. "If I told you the shape- shifters were returning to their planet, using that rocket to break free of earth's gravity, and that Saunders and Knox were with them, how much of that would you believe?" Blue eyes met hazel. "All of it." --o-0-o-- Scully Residence Charleston, North Carolina Tuesday, 5:16 pm Bill Scully was spreading out grass seed when the Volvo station wagon pulled up. "Mom!" Abandoning the wheeled green bucket under a pine tree, he trotted over to the driver's side door. Margaret stepped out into his open arms. "Bill. I'm so glad to see you. I've missed you and the boys." They patted each other's backs, then Bill tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Charlie called me, Mom. Do you need a sample from me, too?" Margaret shook her head. "No, but did he tell you anything else?" Bill sighed. "He told me everything." Holding the front door until she stepped through ahead of him, he checked over his shoulder as a Subaru rolled past the house. "Since Elizabeth took the boys to the playground for the afternoon, we can talk in private." Margaret nodded. "You haven't forgotten how sick that fertilizer made Dana when she was three." Bill led her into the den. "You've never let me forget." Mother and son settled into opposite ends of a battered sofa, the wooden sides showing marks of truck wheels and tooth impressions. Margaret shifted to look her eldest living child in the face. "Bill, you know why I'm here." The red-haired man nodded. "Yes. I don't know what to say. Charlie told me you'd come to your senses about the partner, but as for just taking Dana back, well, I'm not sure how Dad would have reacted in a similar situation." He bit his lower lip as he plucked at his jeans. Margaret leaned towards him. "But you do know, Bill. We've been though this before." His blue eyes met her brown ones. "With Mel, or with Dana?" He shook his head. "Sisters. It would almost be easier to deal with Mel showing up eight months pregnant that with the way Dana assumes she's better than the rest of us." Margaret was on her feet. "Bill! Is that what you think? That this is a game between you two?" He shrugged. "Hasn't she always done stuff like this just to prove she's more deserving of love and attention?" He snorted. "The sports, the valedictorian, the science degree, the medical school. If she'd gotten that PhD there'd have been no living with her. Little Miss Know It All." He crossed his arms. Margaret was fuming. "William Danvers Scully! I can't believe what I'm hearing from you. Her work is important, not just to her, but for all of us." Bill stood. "Yeah, Mom, you just go on believing that, okay?" Margaret clenched her fists. "I will! So, are you going to throw me out of the family, too?" The blue eyes widened for a moment. "Mom! No! You don't understand! Dana needs to do what's best for her and for her family. It would be better for her and for us if she wasn't in the Bureau. Dad knew that and tried to tell her. Instead, she runs off and joins up with this *Mulder* guy. His father was a spy who fooled around on his wife and hated his kids. What kind of a man does that make his son?" Margaret crossed her arms. "A decent, hard-working, but very troubled soul." Bill glared over at her. "So? Dana doesn't need a loser like that. Does she?" The dark-haired woman shook her head. "He isn't a loser. He's very dedicated to what he does. Many of the famous men we've been taught to revere have had very similar backgrounds." A shadowed jaw jutted. "And they were all misanthropic loners, too. Dana deserves better, Mom, than being hooked like some groupie to Mister UFO wizard. As head of the family - What?" Margaret had covered her mouth with her hand. "Bill! When did you? How did you?" He shook his head. "Mom, Dad's gone. Someone has to look out for the rest of us. Someone has to take charge. You always told us that he was the leader, the Captain, that you were only taking care of us the way he would have wanted had he been home. Having commanded myself, I've learned exactly what that means. You have to be able to give unpopular orders if that's what's best for everyone you're responsible for." Margaret's protest dropped to a whisper. "But this isn't a flotilla of destroyers. We're a family. That's what's important." He sighed. "No, we're *all* in the Navy. I take orders from my superiors, I give orders to my men. That's how it is." He sat again. Margaret perched on a cushion in the matching chair across from him, ignoring the toy soldier pressing into her thigh. "Okay, so we're *all* following some chain of command. Your Father often let me read his military history texts." The blue eyes softened. "Yeah, he loved to tell the stories of how we defeated the Nazis and the Japanese. The good war, he called it." Sensing an opening, Margaret leapt into it. "He told me that German units would oftentimes be overrun without firing a single shot. When asked why they wouldn't respond to a direct assault, they would respond, 'We had no orders to fire.' The greatest strength of the US military was that individual units in the field would, if out of communication with headquarters, size up a developing situation and take charge themselves." He rubbed his chin. "Mom, are you trying to say that Dana is off working on her own like that, without communication, doing what she thinks is right in response to the unexpected?" He shook his head. "No, I don't see it that way. Dad never found any evidence that what Mulder's looking for even exists. I think it's all some fantasy he's concocted for himself." Margaret shifted over beside him. "But Dana *has* found that evidence. Working together, they *do* know to lay those early ideas Fox had aside, and look beyond them to the truth. If Fox were still telling me stories of little grey men, I'd agree with you. But they have so much more now: DNA traces like nothing on earth, videotapes and UV signatures, those papers of hers, the document Charlie's ensign found, implants, retroviral genomes with primate DNA. It's all real." She patted his knee. "She's convinced Mel had some unique chromosomal pattern that you and Charlie don't, so you're safe." A sudden sense of relief brought tears to her eyes. "You'll all be secure, and she's showing it to you in her own way. She's using her skills to protect this family, Bill. Isn't that enough?" His mouth had formed into a round expression of surprise, then he nodded. "I didn't know, Mom. She never said." Brown eyes met blue. "You never gave her the chance." He grasped her hand. "Mom, something else I've learned as an officer, sometimes you have to make a public gesture to get others to follow. What do we do so Dana knows we want her back?" She smiled quickly. "She wouldn't want that. You know how private she is. Just meet with her and apologize, then keep in touch. That's all." He nodded. "Okay, Mom, that's what we'll do." --o-0-o-- Zairian Savannah Wednesday, April 22, 1998 2:47 am Static crackled from a silver box duct-taped on the cockpit floor. Pendrell pointed to the microphone resting in a tray screwed onto the side. "Will either of you get that? I think the people on the other end will be pleasantly surprised to hear your voices." Mulder reached towards the chassis. "How do I activate this to send?" Scully pushed a red button poking up through a rough square hole cut into the top. "It's a Langly special, Mulder. Try it now." Mulder's eyebrows drew together before he began speaking. "Hello? Anybody receiving?" "Agent Mulder!" Although his words were being relayed through a tiny speaker, Skinner's voice lost none of its intensity. "What is your condition?" Mulder grinned at his partner. "We're okay, Sir. Rocket-burned more than anything else." "What?" Static interrupted him. "How many are with you? Are there any serious injuries?" "Negative, Sir!" Mulder was shouting back now. "It's only Agent Scully and myself. The others left on the rocket you may have seen." "Mulder! If you're involved in launching that Roman candle somehow, guess what, you made CNN again." The voice was Frohike's. "We have a set tuned in here in the Bureau office. An EOS caught the entire launch with its SAR imager, so your location in the desert is plastered all over it. Agent Scully okay?" She leaned back to grasp the mike. "I'm fine, Frohike." A chuckle came through the speakers. "We'll have the medivac helicopter standing by, Dana." Pendrell silently mimicked 'Dana?' at the auburn-haired agent, who rolled her eyes, then mouthed 'Never mind.' in response. Nodding, the pilot turned back to his instruments. Byers' words reached them next. "It also picked up the masses of NATO forces headed your way, so that little secret is out, too." Scully spoke out loud to the red-haired agent. "NATO forces?" He shook his head. Mulder had shouted the same question into the mike. Byers responded, "There's a group of Neo-Nazis in the German contingent with assassination orders. Pendrell went in to pull you out before they reached your location." A long burst of static terminated their communication. Scully tapped the box. "We're being jammed." The red-haired agent nodded. "I expected that. We'll be passing over some of the troop locations shortly. I've steered us clear of where we knew the Neos were deployed, but after seeing that rocket pass overhead, the whole bunch will be a little trigger-happy." Mulder clutched the mike. "They'll be shooting at us?" In answer, there were booms from the darkness below them. Blue eyes met hazel. "Strap yourselves in tight. I'll have to do a little fancy flying to keep us clear." --o-0-o-- Pendrell banked the light plane into another barrel roll. "Hope you guys haven't eaten recently." White-faced, Scully glanced at him from her seat. "Trust me, that hasn't been a problem." The plane shuddered as more artillery whizzed up through the air. Mulder swore softly before he hazarded a glance out the window. "We're all allies! Why us?" Scully called back. "Ahab explained it to me once: you have to be careful when motivating the men at your command. Get troops too fired up for exercises like this and they'll shoot at anything. If any of them were in Desert Storm, they probably have visions of revisiting - " The plane jerked upwards. Pendrell's right fingers gripped the throttle. "That's it, we've been hit. I'm jettisoning the fuel." He slapped a button. "I'll try to set us down level on our reserves." Mulder glanced around the cockpit. "What, no parachutes?" The technician snorted. "I wish, Agent Mulder. I was lucky to be able to rent a plane this large in the Third World." Scully studied his tight face for a moment. "When we three get back, I'm giving the guys hell for not remembering to pack some." He flicked his eyes towards her gratefully. "Deal." He bit his lower lip as he concentrated on the gauges and controls, then called out more instructions, "The speed's dropping smoothly and the landing gear is out. This shouldn't be too rough, but be prepared to get as far away from the plane as you can." "Wonder why." Mulder commented dryly. Scully found her eyes gravitating towards the altimeter, watching the numbers roll downwards. Pendrell had positioned their track parallel to the dune fronts, so once the sand was over their line of sight, he called, "Be ready!" His passengers covered their heads. The wheels touched down briefly, then tossed them back into the air, forcing the red- haired agent to tap the controls. After a second bounce, the plane flipped over, landing on the wings. The three were unbuckling, rolling loose of their harnesses, all the while shouting for each other. Scully called out that she had the backpack, and pushed her door open. Mulder was muttering about free government flights as he bumped against Pendrell's shoulder in the darkness. The red-haired agent chuckled. "Ah, the mountains are worse." The three climbed out of the plane to run along the bottom of the dune. Through the darkness, they heard other motors starting up in their wake, but not the expected explosion of their light craft. Mulder cocked an ear behind them. "They're calling us by name, Scully." Scully glanced over her shoulder. "That's not good. I can't see who they are through all the headlights." Despite their best efforts, the desert-prepared vehicles overtook them in a few minutes. Mulder fumbled for his gun, snorting when he realized it had fallen out back in the plane. The truck that had careened in front of them blocked their escape. Pendrell pulled off his helmet to pitch it at the windshield, only to see it bounce off the roof of the cab. Three soldiers were shouting within. Scully grabbed her partner's arm. "That isn't German! These aren't the Neos!" Mulder grinned down at her. "No, that's Greek, Scully." He grabbed the blue and white flag off the front of the hood. "These are the Hellenes. Your Minister must have come through for us." Pendrell stared. "What?" Unarmed, one of the soldiers stepped up to them. "Agent Mulder? Agent Scully?" The partners nodded. The corners of the thick black moustache turned upwards. "We were given orders to try to find you first and bring you back to the American Embassy in Nairobi." Pendrell sighed. "Will *someone* please tell me what's going on here?" --o-0-o-- American Embassy Nairobi, Kenya Friday, April 24, 1998 10:18 am The three agents disentangled themselves from the boisterous soldiers in the back of the truck, offering hasty farewells. Mulder waved back somewhat distractedly at repeated shouts of 'Santorini, Santorini!'. Scully stretched up to comment to him. "You're calling Max and your Mom to give them fair warning, aren't you?" He snorted. "I think it would be wise." Hearing Skinner call for him, Pendrell had hurried in ahead of them. Now, as the partners made their way to the room their supervisor had commandeered, the red-haired agent ran back out. "Agent Scully!" He was flapping a printout. "Terry sent Skinner the DNA analysis!" She froze. Pendrell trotted back to her, beaming. "Both your brothers didn't inherit that gene from your Mother." At the news, she grabbed her partner's elbow momentarily. The contact spun him around to hover over her, while she bit her lip to suppress her tears of relief. He raised his hand to press it into her back. "I'm glad for you, Scully. They'll all really be safe." Byers had emerged from the room, Frohike on his heels. "Mulder, we have a photo we'd like you to identify for us." It was the tall agent who now went rigid. Resting her hand on his spine, Scully looked up at his eyes. "They've found her." When he bit his lower lip, she slipped her arm around his waist. "Go on, Mulder. This is real, not a clone, not a lie." She pushed on his back, forcing him to step forward. Once in the room, Mulder sank into the chair Skinner had pointed to. "Where?" was all he managed to croak out. Byers looked to Scully. "In San Diego." She gripped her partner's shoulder tightly. "How?" Byers laid out several pages of copied records. "We've finally received the last of the materials you requested through the Bureau before you left, Agent Scully. These documents are for those four girls from the adoption agency in Colorado, the possible Sarah Silverberg candidates. Three were put through a string of foster homes and were lost. But one of them was adopted by a family who took her home to, get this," he said, pointing to an address, "Newport, Rhode Island." Scully had to strain to hear her partner's whisper. "So close. All those years she was so close." He shivered when she rubbed his spine again. Byers nodded. "But she chose to attend the University of California at Sanford through her doctorate, and when this second set of adoptive parents was lost in a car wreck, she changed her name." He pushed forward a sheet with 'City of San Diego Hall of Records' in large letters across the top. He continued slowly. "She chose the name 'Sandra Ann Miller' for herself." Mulder was trembling visibly now. "She kept the same initials." He spun to look up at his partner. "That happens with amnesia cases, right?" The glint in his hazel eyes had never been more desperate. She nodded. He leaned forward slightly. "Do you have a picture?" Byers slid a large-print photo out of its envelope. "We downloaded her driver's license and blew it up." The stiff paper was placed squarely before the dark-haired agent. "Is it her, Mulder?" When he glimpsed the face, Mulder clenched his fists, stifling all sounds but a throaty gasp. Scully bent over his shoulder. "It doesn't look like the shape- shifter." He shook his head. "No. It's the woman I saw under the oak." He lifted the print from the table. "It's her. I know it's her." He looked up to the bearded Gunman. "Where is she now? What is she doing?" He forced himself to focus on tangible facts and figures, pushing his emotions aside. Byers sighed. "She's still in the city, working as a Professor of Fluid Dynamics at the local university." He tapped one of the pages. "You can call her when you get back to the States." Mulder checked the faces of the people in the room with him. "Thank you, all of you. Now I really need to call Mom." When he made no move to rise and reach for the phone, Walter Skinner stepped forward. "Agent Mulder, there are international repercussions to what has transpired here that I need to discuss with Senator Matheson." His eyes never leaving the image of his sister's face, Mulder nodded. Scully stepped around the table to speak with them. "We thank you, Sir, and you, Arthur." The blue eyes met hers. "You're welcome, Dana. I'll expect you both at the wedding." He glanced over at Mulder, who gave no indication of having heard his invitation. Scully touched his arm. "We'll be there." One cheek dimpled. Pendrell flushed a deep red. "Only this time," he said as he pointed to her hunched shoulders, "wear something that'll take the heat." Skinner frowned downwards, but followed Pendrell out the door. The Gunmen had clustered around Mulder, Frohike watching Scully intently. "Agent Scully?" She turned back to the four. "Yes?" "What does he mean?" She waved the question away. "We were too close to the launch site and were forced to bury ourselves in the sand." Mulder roused from his fugue to shift on his chair. "Yeah, there was a reason NASA sent the Apollos up from so far away." When Scully locked eyes with Byers, he nodded and turned to Langly. "I think we need to check the latest on CNN, don't you?" After a glance towards their seated friend, the longhaired Gunman tugged on Frohike's arm. "Sounds like a plan." Once the room was empty, Scully rested a hand on her partner's shoulder. "Would you like to be alone, Mulder?" "No." Dropping the photo on the table, he rose and opened his arms to her. "I don't want to be alone anymore." Once she had settled against him, he enfolded her tightly. "Thank you. Thank you for believing in me. In this." As he rested his cheek on her auburn crown, he bit his lip. Her head moved up and down against his chest. "I can only say the same. And thanks for your support when I needed it. It isn't over yet, you know." A sniffle, then a whisper. "I know. All these expanded horizons with Matheson and the Consortium are too much to think about right now. I need to savor this for a while before I run off to the West Coast." They rocked in silence for a moment. "Mulder?" "Hum?" "Does your back itch as much as mine does?" His gurgling chuckle was punctuated by several more sniffles. "More. You were right when you told them the sand didn't bury us deep enough." He released her. They stepped towards the open room where the rest of the agents and Gunmen had gathered, only to find Langly arguing heatedly with a woman agent, assigned just recently to the foreign office. Mulder bent over his partner's shoulder. "He really enjoys the cloak and dagger stuff. Agent Langly. Think about it." She stuck her tongue out slightly before she replied, "I'd rather not." --o-0-o-- Dark Apartment Washington, DC Saturday, April 25, 1997 9:21 pm The old man grimaced as he peered out through the spy hole. Unlocking it, he called out a greeting. "I had wondered when I would see you two again. All is well, I trust?" 'Ace' marched in determinedly. "You know the shape-shifters were on that rocket, don't you?" He fingered the pack in his pocket. "Do you know how many of them there were?" 'Charlie' pressed his arm against his lover's back. "Why, five, of course." The man with the Morleys shook his head. "Seven." 'Ace' glanced at 'Charlie'. "Seven? What do you mean, seven?" A snick of a lighter. "I just finished speaking with my counterpart in Germany. Two of their operatives have awakened after long, restful naps." He waited for the meaning to sink in. When both of their faces had colored, he continued. "This has very serious implications for us all. We have had visitations by this species about every fifty years. So, unless we have developed significant countermeasures, by the time your children are ready to retire, they may have unexpected guests." 'Ace' nodded. "Then we have much work to do." 'Charlie' stepped forward. "How do you wish for us to assist in your plans?" The old man dropped a hand to his shoulder, surprised when the corpulent flesh beneath his fingers remained rock-steady. "We must begin at the top, my young friends. But even before that, I need to meet with all four of you. You have no word on 'Finn'?" The brunette programmer shook her head. "We'll go check with 'Andrew'. Perhaps he has seen him." The old spy led them to the door. "Then I shall join you as soon as I have gathered the others. Good evening." --o-0-o-- Skinner Residence Falls Church, Virginia Sunday, April 26, 1997 6:57 pm Sharon Skinner paused in her planting as the taxi rolled to a stop in front of the house. "He's back so soon?" Cynthia placed the flat of marigolds in a shady spot before she joined her. "I hope that's a good thing." Walter Skinner emerged from the back, waited to pay the cab driver until he handed him his duffle bag, then turned as the two women stepped up to him. "I'm back." He smiled broadly. "Mulder and Scully are safe; Saunders isn't a problem anymore." Sharon tugged off her gardening gloves to hug him. "That's good to hear, Walter." Backing away, she smiled at the dirt on his white dress shirt. "You'll have to run that by the cleaners. Sorry." His eyes held hers for a moment. "It's no problem." Cynthia frowned. "What about Agent Pendrell?" Skinner looked down at her. "Oh, he should be home by now. He was just as reliable as I thought he would be." He leaned over to whisper, "I see she's roped you into the gardening duties." Cynthia smiled. "Oh, coming from a farm, this is nothing." Feeling uncharacteristically ebullient, she took the ex-Marine by the arm. "I've convinced Mrs. Skinner she needs to plant some herbs up in that rocky patch she was complaining about..." --o-0-o-- The Assistant Director emerged from the basement, closing the door against the sound of the washing machine spinning. "Sharon?" He peered into the kitchen. "Director Skinner?" Having changed as well, Cynthia was standing behind him in the hallway, pulling on her ponytail nervously. "Now that you're home, - " He leaned against the doorframe. "Yes?" He hoped he had found his gentlest of tones to encourage her to continue. She bit her lip, then sighed. "I'd like to retrieve a few more things from my apartment, if it would be okay. I shouldn't be imposing on Mrs. Skinner the way I have been while you've been gone." Sharon Skinner stepped in from the living room. "Cynthia, don't be silly. It's been nice to have someone here." The bald Director turned to his wife. "Have there been any problems while I was away?" She shook her head. Skinner looked down at Cynthia. "Then I don't see why not. Would you like Sharon to come with us?" Cynthia glanced down at her running shoes. "It isn't much, but I miss not having my family's photos with me." She shrugged. "That's all. I didn't expect to be away this long." She flashed a nervous smile. Skinner nodded. "We'll take the convertible?" He looked to his wife for confirmation. She reached in her pocket for the keys. "Sure. You may need to put some gas in it, though." The Director kissed his wife's nose, then turned to head towards the door. --o-0-o-- Darkened Apartment Fairfax, Virginia Sunday, 8:42 pm Cynthia stepped up to her mailbox. "It's empty. That's odd." Skinner held the door for her. "Didn't you call your landlord to hold it for you?" She nodded. "But he's usually gone from Friday through Monday. That's three mail days." She held out her keys, flipping over the three with yellow plastic rings until she grasped an unadorned one. "Right, here." Inside, a lone, unshaven figure snapped to attention when he heard the voices. He was beginning to pull his angular frame off the carpet when he spied the broad- shouldered form of the Assistant Director. "Who are you?" His Glock aimed, he stalked towards the light and the entrance. Walter Skinner's Sig answered for him, forcing the blond man to dive behind the sofa. "Put your weapon down and raise your hands, now!" Cynthia flicked on the lights, pointing to a black pair of shoes just visible from her lower vantage point. Skinner sent a shot into the wall just above the imported leather soles. "Get out of here, Cynthia, now! Call for backup on my cel phone!" The slight woman broke into a flat run. Skinner resumed his sideways sweep of the room. "FBI! I said, slide your weapon out here where I can see it and come out with your hands up, Lindhauer! Don't make me shoot you!" The Glock left a long scratch in the oak as it slid. Then, two sets of long pale fingers appeared over the cushions, followed by a faded blond thatch over cold blue eyes. "Exactly what do you think you'll accomplish by arresting me, Assistant Director Skinner? I'll be back out on the street within an hour." Skinner bent to retrieve the weapon. "That's not important. You'll have been exposed and useless to them, or didn't you think about that before you decided to dive off the deep end? I don't expect you'll live out the day." Skinner cocked his head. "Now, move." Cynthia reappeared in the doorway, distracting Lindhauer, but not the ex-Marine. "The Fairfax officers are here, Sir." Two uniformed police shoved her aside, weapons aimed at the tall blond man. Skinner lifted his ID where they could read it. "I'm Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, and I want this man arrested for breaking and entering." At Lindhauer's snort, he glowered. "That's just for starters. Wait until I call Senator Matheson. He'll be delighted he can now remove you from his staff." As the tall man passed Cynthia, he called out, "Why?", then was jerked away by the officers. The brunette was shaking, both hands over her mouth to stop from crying out. Skinner dropped an arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. He'll go away for a very long time. We have the evidence." He patted her back. "Collect your photos and let's head back to my place, hum?" After a single nod, she stepped forward. --o-0-o-- Alexandria Correctional Facility Alexandria, Virginia Sunday, 11:37 pm McConnell waited while Lindhauer refilled his pockets with his wallet, keys, and other assorted personal items. "'Finn', we've been looking everywhere for you. Matheson's been making a huge amount of noise about this. He's thinking of letting you go, you know." Lindhauer sent McConnell a steely blue stare, but said nothing. While they walked out of the jail, the red-haired man rubbed his nose under the black-framed glasses, then continued. "We were afraid the loyalists had killed you, not that you were hiding in a woman's apartment, waiting for her to return." His hand on the passenger door of McConnell's BMW, Lindhauer shook his head. "Afraid, or hopeful that you could finally unseat me?" While unlocking the door, McConnell's jaw dropped and he stared upwards at the blond man. "What? Has Black Lung been brainwashing you or something? We're all on your side here! We'd rather have you in charge than him, or anyone else, for that matter." He held the door. "Hey, now I'm taking you to my place to wash up and get some rest. You'll feel better in the morning when you've had a good night's sleep." --o-0-o-- Apartment Arlington, Virginia Monday, April 27, 1997 12:21 am McConnell set a bowl of Dinty Moore beef stew in front of his morose colleague, who grimaced at the clumps of orange and grey bobbing in the turgid brown broth. "Come'on, eat up. It's not so bad." Lindhauer shook his head. "I just feel so, so..." Settling across the dining room table from him, the red-haired man leaned forward to bring his green eyes into contact with the half- closed ice blue ones. "You feel so what?" After sampling a spoonful, Lindhauer curled his lean angular torso forward and consumed the contents. He looked up. "Better. I feel better." McConnell nodded, the red curls shiny from too many hours between showers. "I thought so. When was the last time you ate anything?" The blond man shrugged. "I don't remember. I just remember thinking how much I've lost since we started this last December. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in that dark apartment, waiting for her to come back." He grimaced. "What good would that have done? She thinks I'm evil." McConnell sighed. "They don't understand. We know there are sentient species with interstellar travel capabilities. We've all lost things, Gil." The long face snapped to attention at the use of his first name. "What? What's happened to you?" McConnell carried the bowl to the pot to refill it. "Dad's disinherited me." After positioning the stew in front of his friend, he crossed his arms on the table to rest his chin on them. "He called me. Apparently, word of what happened at Virginia Beach finally leaked back to him." Steel rang against ceramic for a moment, then Lindhauer shook his head. "That isn't fair. He'll go stand outside abortion clinics for months, throwing blood on helpless women, calling for hate campaigns against doctors from the pulpit, but - " "Gil." The growl was both warning and protest. One long hand rose, stark white in the rays from the single overhead bulb. "It's a subject we'll always disagree on, Doug, but that isn't the point. He's worried about a few babies; we're worried about the whole species." Lindhauer leaned forward. "Does he begin to understand how important what we're doing is?" McConnell sighed. "No. You know we can't tell him, either." Lindhauer nodded. "I know. That's what makes it so rough." Both turned at a knock from the living room. McConnell frowned. "Who?" He peered through the spyhole, then pulled the door open. "'Ace'! 'Charlie'! You're back awfully soon. What did he say?" The couple rushed inside, the heavy-set man puffing. "We've verified that it was the shape-shifters in that rocket. They broke into one of the Europeans' storage facilities." Lindhauer stepped onto the carpet. "What? One of theirs? Not one of ours? That's a relief." 'Ace''s brown curls shook from side to side. "Apparently, there were two more at work in the European organizations, so they know everything we've worked out over the years." McConnell swore softly as he collapsed onto the sofa. "That's it. We've failed." He rubbed his freckled cheeks tiredly. "We've handed the old man all the ammunition he needs to remove us from power, and you know what that means." 'Ace' took a seat beside him. "No, it doesn't. It just means the time-table for the Project is accelerated. While you were attempting to find 'Finn', we've been purging the Organization of loyalists. Our bases in the Pacific are untouched, so we can retire to - " The door crashing to the carpet brought them all to their feet, then they turned to face three men in grey suits, armed with semi- automatic rifles. Lindhauer leapt over the back of the couch, heading for the handgun he had dropped onto the side table. But, one of Glocks spoke, sending him jerking backwards across the room until he collapsed in a bloody heap by the fireplace. McConnell squeezed off two shots before the back of his skull exploded, spraying grey flecks and hot red tissue over the thick white carpet. 'Charlie' threw himself on top of 'Ace' to whisper desperately, "I love you, Lisa," before wrapping his arms around her waist. She kissed his neck and prepared for the end, closing her eyes as they heard footsteps approaching. Then came a snick that set them both cringing. 'Charlie' raised his face out of the carpet, expecting his forehead to contact the end of a rifle. "Let Lisa live, please. Kill me instead, but let her live." But all he felt was the brush of a stream of smoke. A wry, chilling chuckle. "I intended to kill none of you. Each of you has your uses, but you associates foolishly chose to attack mine." The old man shrugged. "Subordinates. You never can tell which side they're really on, now can you?" He rose from his crouch to slip onto the cushions of the armchair. "Get up, get up." He waved the three Grey Suits outside, where they paced the hallway. 'Charlie' still held 'Ace' against his side tightly. "What do you want with us?" The old man's forehead wrinkled. "You, dear boy, very little. It is your precious Amanda who interests me the most." 'Ace' pulled herself free of her lover's grasp to reach across the room and rub the old man's knee seductively. "Whatever you want me to do, I will, just let Drew live." A snort. "Amanda, please. Your body interests me not in the least." He reached over to tap her forehead with the two fingers that pinched the Morley. "It's that lovely mind of yours which intoxicates me." He breathed out a stream of smoke. "Come, you are free to continue your work," he ordered as he smoothed his tie, "only with my expertise and guidance." He arched a grey brow at 'Charlie'. "Keep your darling 'Ace' happy and you live." The heavy-set man gulped as he nodded. The old spy rose. "Now, come with me. We have work to do. The others will clear up this mess." As he led them out, he nodded to Luther, who reached into his jacket pocket to tug free a pair of latex gloves. --o-0-o-- Lowenberg Residence Santorini, Greece Wednesday, April 29, 1997 7:27 pm Dana Scully stepped off the deck cautiously, her back and legs still sore from the burns. Frohike and the soldiers who had escorted them back to Santorini were passing bottles of Ouzo back and forth, shouting and throwing their Captain, fully clothed, in Max's newly filled pool. Langly was watching the youngest of the Greek men, enchanted by his flashing eyes and ready smile. Byers and Vicky, meanwhile, were dancing to the songs blaring from a boom-box between sips of Caroline's Swiss wine. Max and Caroline were watching from a corner, smiling and laughing to themselves. But her partner had sequestered himself well away from the impromptu festivities, at the edge of the green where the cliffs fell away to the sea. Mulder had wrapped his arms around his denim-clad knees and was staring up at the stars. When Scully reached his side, she could see his framed print of Samantha, the one that had sat on his desk since the first day she walked into the basement, propped up against a rock in front of him. He looked back over his shoulder. "Hey, G-woman." After resting one hand on his shoulder, she curled up beside him, her short legs folded so she could match his posture. "Mom's happy to know we're all right." Resting her cheek on her knees, she studied his upturned face. "You're really off the hook, you know." He cocked one dark brow at her. "Hum?" She stared out at the waves breaking on distant rocks. "She wanted to know about this Arthur Pendrell person." Mulder smirked. "I wondered what that banshee shriek was about." Pensive, he rubbed his chin on his knee. "In a way, I'm a little sorry." They held each other's gaze for a long moment, then Scully massaged the back of her neck. "Speaking of banshees, I had another one of *those* dreams the night before we found the buried structure. With all that was going on, I didn't give you the chance to analyze it properly, Herr Doktor Sigmund." Mulder shifted closer until their shoulders were in contact. "Oh? Which deity was it this time?" Scully narrowed her green-blue eyes at him. "Isis." He snorted. "I don't think your Mom will want to know her good little Catholic daughter was reading Apuleius at college." Pushing on her arm slightly, he sobered. "You look like you have something you want to tell me." "Hum." Stretching his legs out straight, he propped his weight on the hand he rested behind her. "So?" She shrugged. "I don't think these were paranormal visitations, Mulder." "Why am I not surprised?" He shook her elbow gently. "You're killing me with suspense, Doctor. What do you think they were?" She crossed her legs at the ankles. "I think you were right, though, I *was* trying to work through something in my subconscious." "Score one for the Father of Psychology." He bumped her elbow with his. "Spill it, FBI-woman." Scully cocked her head, then turned to him. "Isis had wings, both in myth and in my dream." She held her arms out straight to the sides, forcing him to flop onto his spine. "She didn't say anything, she just spread them out and grew, until she covered all the sky." She dropped her hands in her lap. "I could see the stars winking through, then lines interconnecting the spots appeared, replacing the veins in her wings. I thought I was recreating star charts in my mind, like the ones Ahab used to show me, or like the ones in the Maya constellations. But the lines connected *all* the stars, all of them into one vast network. I've been thinking about that image, and I realize now what I've been trying to tell myself." Turning on his side, he propped himself up on one elbow. "Ah, you had a vision of some new form of interstellar transport, Doctor Arroway?" She arched a brow at him. "No, I don't think so. I think I was telling myself that no matter how hard I work, or how much we do in our lifetimes, it's the personal connections that matter most." She reached across to brush his shoulder with her fingertips. "Thanks for looking out for me, Mulder. And for forcing me to talk, even when I didn't want to." He stared into her green-blue eyes until he could no longer hold her gaze, then contented himself with rubbing the back of her hand with his palm. Waiting until his hand had stilled in its motion, she tucked her fingers between her knees. "Mom also said Charlie and Bill wanted to speak with me when I returned home." Twisting, she searched his face for reassurance. He pointed to the image of Samantha with his chin. "I hope it'll go well, Scully. After helping me find her, your brothers should have enough sense to see how important you are to them." Scully went back to staring at the stars. "At least we know she isn't up there somewhere, Mulder." He sat up beside her. "Yeah. She's here and safe." He bit his lower lip. "I wonder what she'll think of me?" Scully tossed her hair. "If she has any sense at all, she'll discover she has a wonderful big brother, one she didn't have to chase or pinch or poke to train him to appreciate her when she grew up." His eyes dark, he nodded before gazing up again. "I wonder where they are now? When they'll be back?" She shrugged. "They may never be back. The political structure may have changed on their planet when they arrive, or that silicon skin may fail, or," she theorized as she held out both hands, "whatever." The sounds of the celebration floated out to them, prompting her to bump his shoulder with her elbow. "But you're really here looking for the three of them, aren't you?" He snapped his thumbnail against his teeth several times before he sighed. "Who, Deep Throat, my father, and Saunders?" When a gust of wind passed over them, she pushed auburn hair off her face with her fingers. "Other would there be not, young Skywalker." She smiled softly. A snort, then he shook his head. "Not really. I decided sitting out here that I have to let the past go, Scully, so I can appreciate Sam for the woman she is now, not the kid sister I lost." With that, he tossed the photograph over the edge of the cliff, waiting while the glass shattered and the frame broke on the boulders. Grasping his shoulder as a prop, she rose. "Let's rock, Luke, the ewoks are partying." Once he had stood, he bent over her back. "I'll be sure to tell Frohike what you really think of him. He's always fancied himself as your Han Solo." While dusting her jeans off, Scully glanced up at him. "Leia Organa don't *need* no Han Solo." Smirking, he touched her spine. "No, she sure didn't." --FINIS-- ZURVAN -----o-------------------------------------------o----- Dogberry: Moreover, sir, which indeed is not under white and black, this plaintiff here, the offender, did call me ass: I beseech you, let it be remembered in his pun- ishment. And also, the watch heard them talk of one Deformed: they say he wears a key in his ear, and a lock hanging by it; and borrows money in God's name, the which he hath used so long and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for God's sake; pray you, examine him upon that point. Lenato: I thank you for your care and honest pains. Dogberry: Your worship speaks like a most thankful and reverend youth; and I praise God for you. Lenato: There's for thy pains. Dogberry: God save the foundation! Lenato: Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I thank thee. Dogberry: I leave an arrant knave with your worship; which I beseech your worship to correct yourself, for the example of others. God keep your worship! I wish your worship well; God restore you to health! I humbly give you leave to depart; and if a merry meeting be wished, God prohibit it! Come, neighbor! Much Ado About Nothing -----o------------------------------------------o----- =====o============================================o===== Well, dear readers, there you have it. After a year and a half, and 2.3 megabytes, my Dana Scully Trilogy is complete. One of my faithful Net friends, Matt Weed, asked me why I chose to bring Samantha back to Mulder this early in the story (I have another trilogy to go). I had always wanted the Search for Samantha to be something that Mulder and Scully pursued as an investigation together. I didn't want her to be handed back to him by the CSM, or a stranger, or have her 'accidentally' fall in his lap one morning. Given the complexity of the search, it wasn't something that could happen while they were at loggerheads, the way they seem to be perpetually on the show. Nor could it happen when Mulder runs off on his own. He's not that organized. It could only come when they were functioning at a high level as a team, even if they weren't together this whole story. I separated Mulder and Scully for two reasons. First, I wanted Mulder to experience what it was like to be ditched, to have to sit and worry while he had no idea what had happened to Scully. Second, I had to give Scully some time on her own because one isn't perceived to be writing about Scully if Mulder's around. Don't ask me why that is, but it's true. Back to Matt's question. For me, the story isn't over at this point. Remember that after "Iliad" came "Odyssey". Yes, Mulder has achieved the Quest that drove him ever since he was twelve, but he's left with several fascinating possibilities: (1) What does he do with the rest of his life? How much of his time and energy will he put into his work with Scully on the X-Files, and how much on 'getting a life'? (2) All good intentions aside, how does he make a go of his relationship with his sister, his mother, and his stepfather? (3) Will he ever come to terms with his Jewish identity? (4) Senator Matheson has offered both him and Scully leadership roles in this new anti-Consortium. It's much more significant now that there is a more real possibility of actual alien intervention in human affairs at some point in the next century (in this alternate universe of mine). Nor is Scully's story over. She is now recognized (in this universe anyway) as being as much a part of leading the X-Files as Mulder is. She also has some work to do with her own family. Beyond that, she will be Mulder's main support when it comes to dealing with Samantha, which will lead to internal conflicts for her as well. That's the good news. Now the bad news. I have no idea when I'll be able to work on the Sandra Ann Miller Trilogy. I know that sounds odd coming from an author who pops up every few months with a novel, but it's true. I've been handed a RIF notice at the Lab, so, for a while, anyway, I'll be concentrating on finding new work for myself. I may have to move out of the DC area, but then again, I may not. We shall see. Now, for some happier thoughts: Thanks to Diane Renaud, who sent me the American Standard translation of the verses from the Song of Deborah in Judges. Thanks also to Debbie Goldstein for her editing suggestions. I've diligently been attempting to implement them this time around. Thanks to John Carter McKnight for some wonderful discussions about the direction to take some of the Consortium elements of the story. Finally, thanks to CiCi Lean, Donna Bakke, and all the folks who wrote me asking me when the next story was coming out. Without that push at the end, this whole monster might have sat, unfinished, on my hard drive. If I could get this out, Loch Ness, you can get out that sequel to "Letters of Transit"! Just pretend the Fifth Season doesn't exist! Lastly, references: My quotes from the Bard (odd spellings and all) come from "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, the Cambridge Edition Text", as edited by William Aldis Wright, published by Garden City Books, Garden City, New York, 1936. "The Five Books of Moses", a new translation with introductions, commentary, and notes, by Everett Fox, Schocken Books, New York, 1995. "Homer's The Iliad", translated by Robert Fagles, with introduction and notes by Bernard Knox, published by Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Books, 1990. My quote from Rufus' "History of Alexander" is actually from an excerpt published in "Problems in Ancient History: Volume One: The Ancient Near East and Greece", edited by Donald Kagan, Macmillain Publishing Co., Inc., 1975. Just a note: Kagan's "On the Origins of War and the Preservation of Peace", published by Doubleday in 1995 is essential for anyone interested in the larger forces at work throughout history. You know the CSM, if he were real, would have it memorized by now. If you'd like more information on Akhenaten and his experiment in monotheism, let me suggest the following: "Akhenaten, the Heretic King", by Donald B. Redford, Princeton University Press, 1984, paperback, 1989. "Popol Vuh", translated by Dennis Tedlock, Touchstone Press, 1996. "The Landmark Thucydides: A Comprehensive Guide to the Peloponnesian War", edited by Robert B. Strassler, published by The Free Press, 1996. Not only is it an introductory quote to Chapter IX, "The School of Hellas" (title also from Pericles Funeral Oration), but Scully quotes nearly directly from it while describing the Athenian navy. And for those of you who think I made the Olympias up, well, you should know me better by now. Check out: (1) the March/April 1988 issue of "Archaeology" (great cover), (2) the May 1996 issue of "Scientific American", or (3) the homepage for the Trireme trust: http://www-atm.atm.ox.ac.uk/rowing/trireme.html. While you're there, send money. They want to build another one. "The Book of the City of Ladies" by Christine de Pizan (1405), translated by Earl Jeffrey Richards, Persea Books, New York, 1982. "Over Nine Waves: A Book of Irish Legends" as told by Marie Heaney, published by Faber and Faber, 1994. "The Lord of the Rings", by J. R. R. Tolkien, Forty-first printing by Ballantine Books, 1973. Many of my facts on the history of Jerusalem come from Karen Armstrong's 1996 book, "Jerusalem, One City, Three Faiths", published by Ballantine Books. Most of the State of Israel is on the Web, or so it seems. You can visit Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu on their website at: http://www.seliyahu.org.il Noel T. Boaz wrote up his ideas on human origins in his 1993 publication: "Quarry: Closing in in the Missing Link", published by the Free Press. I checked him out on the web, and he seems to have real troubles getting funding. For a more conventional view of human origins, try Ian Tattersall's "The Fossil Trail", published by Oxford University Press, 1995. And, as Pamela T. Pon reminded me, for an accessible and enjoyable account of the discovery of the Minoan ruins on Santorini and the determination of their place in the history of the ancient Mediterranean: "Unearthing Atlantis: an archaeological odyssey", by Charles Pellegrino, forward by Arthur C. Clarke, published by Random House in 1991 and Vintage Books in 1993. Lastly, you can meet Sedna and some of Scully's other goddesses in "The Book of the Goddess, Past and Present", edited by Carl Olson, published by Crossroads Press in 1985. Well, more later, perhaps. Write if you have some thoughts, constructive criticisms, etc., or just if you want to chat. Lord knows, over the next few months, I'll need it. Released to the AnneX: January 17, 1998 Released to ATXC and various mailing lists beginning: February 1, 1998 Revised: May 11, 1998 - June 12, 1998 The story you are reading is part of a sequence of X-Files which branches off the series after the Third Season myth-arc episodes "Nisei"-"731" and the MOTW episode "Syzygy". While each, with the exception of "Zurvan", stands alone, the stories should be read in order for the long-term plot arc and character growth to make the most sense. The order of the sequence is: "Sins of the Fathers" "Xibalba" "Twelfth Night" "Rustic Suite" "Time Out of Joint" "Passages in Memory" "Roman de la Pendrell" "Archaea" "Zurvan" =====o===========================================o===== ================================================================ Mary Ruth Keller "Is it possible disdain should die while Alexandria, VA she hath such meet food to feed it, Phone: (703)683-1599 as Signoir Benedick?" mkeller@universe.digex.net Much Ado About Nothing ================================================================