=====o=====================================================o=====

"Zurvan" by Mary Ruth Keller

E-mail: mkeller@universe.digex.net

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Chapter V - Black and White (Disclaimed in Chapter I)

-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

The big oaken axle groaned beneath the weight,
bearing a great man and a terrifying goddess-
and Pallas Athena seized the reins and whip,
lashing the racing horses straight at Ares.
The god was just stripping giant Periphas bare,
the Aetolians' best fighter, Ochesius' noble son-
the blood-smeared Ares was tearing off his gear
but Athena donned the dark helmet of Death
so not even stark Ares could see her now. 
But the butcher did see Tydeus' rugged son
and he dropped gigantic Periphas on the spot
where he'd just killed him, ripped his life away
and Ares whirled at the stallion-breaking Diomedes-
the two of them closing fast, charging face-to-face
and the god thrust first, over Tydides' yoke and reins,
with bronze spear burning to take the fighter's life.
But Athena, her eyes afire, grabbed the flying shaft,
flicked it over the car and it flew off for nothing-
and after him Diomedes yelled his war cry, lunging out 
with his own bronze spear and Pallas rammed it home, 
deep in Ares' bowels where the belt cinched him tight.

                             Homer: The Iliad 
                             Translated by 
                             Robert Fagles

-----o---------------------------------------------o-----

Courtroom
Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Tuesday, 10:31 am 

The din in the otherwise staid, panelled chamber continued
unabated. Mulder's shout of 'alien' had sent some of the audience
scrambling out the double doors. The lone reporter from the
Washington Post had flipped open his cel phone to begin jabbering
excitedly, the grey unit on his right ear, his free hand on his
left. After pulling his witness past the confusion into the open
calm of the Prosecutor's table, Pollack was shaking his head in a
show of surprise, but watching with a gleam of fulfilled
expectation. Anderson had signed to the bailiff to remove the
members of the jury, who were filing out, disbelief,
consternation, and concern showing on various faces. Stone had
barred Mulder's entrance to the court area of the space, his lanky
arms holding him by the shoulders while the agent twisted and
hopped. Outside of a quick nod in Luther's direction, Saunders had
remained impassive, emotionless.

Scully was on her feet, pulling her partner back towards his
place. "Mulder, think! The shape-shifters would never help the
Shadows, never! There's nothing for them to gain from it!" 

Something in her logic reached him, so he slumped down, still
trembling from the adrenaline overload. "Yeah, yeah, you're right.
A technology exchange is meaningless, and we know they've sprung
the two Samanthas." He sunk further behind Stone. "I blew it." 

Scully shook her head gently, offering what silent reassurance she
could. 

But Anderson had rounded on the cause of the disturbance. "Agent
Mulder?" The judge pushed himself slowly to his feet, the
excessive nature of his girth obscured by his height and distance.
Up close, he would have appeared flaccid, corpulent. But from his
elevated location and in his black custom-silk robe, he projected
all the authority of some medieval Lord. "In the jury's absence,
would you please rise and explain to the Court the meaning of your
outburst?" 

Mulder found his feet somehow, his charcoal suit hanging loose and
limp from his shoulders as he smoothed the rumpled wool. "We," he
gestured to Scully, "Agent Scully and I, have encountered life-
forms in the past with the ability to temporarily modify their
outward appearance, Your Honor." 

The audience chamber erupted in murmurs. 

Anderson turned the gavel pad over, pounding the granite surface
on the edge of his bench. "Order! Order in this courtroom or I
shall have it cleared!" His dark eyes unreadable, he leaned out,
dropping his voice to a near-whisper. "Agent Mulder, you must
understand how a claim like that sounds." 

Mulder clasped his hands in front of him, grasping his left wrist
with his right fingers. "Yes, Sir, I do. But, through the efforts
of myself, my partner, and the other members of the X-Files
Section, we have irrefutable proof of the existence of sentient
extraterrestrial life-forms living on this planet." 

The only sound in the courtroom was that of the Post reporter,
punching in another number frantically.

Anderson thundered from on high. "Remove that instrument from his
possession immediately! There is a man on trial for his life here,
and I will not allow this courtroom to be turned into another
excuse for a media circus!" 

When the reporter refused to relinquish his phone, the marshall
took it forcibly from him. 

Nodding, Anderson called out, "You can have it back at the end of
the day, Mister Sterling, or you can use the pay phone like all
the other members of the press." He lowered himself back into his
chair. "Mister Stone, Mister Pollack, would you please approach
the bench?" 

After casting a backwards glance at the dark-haired agent, Stone
crossed the open space in one long stride. "Your Honor..." 

His generous lips pressed together, Anderson shook his head to
silence him. "Were you intending merely on keeping this earth-
shattering news to yourself, Mister Stone?" 

Delighted with Mulder's reaction, Pollack chose to stare in a show
of anger. 

Stone's green eyes focused momentarily on the bas-relief figure of
Lady Justice, carved behind the judge's seat. "No, Sir, but we did
not intend to introduce it until the defense began its case." 

Anderson nodded. "Very well. Proceed with all due discretion for
the sanctity of this courtroom." He leaned back, focusing on
Mulder. "And you, Mister Mulder. One more outburst like that, and
I'll reduce your travel expenses by the cost of a week's room and
board, courtesy of the Department of Corrections for the State of
Pennsylvania. Am I making myself clear?" 

The dark-haired agent's head bobbed. 

"Very well. When the jury is seated, you may call your witness,
Mister Pollack." After Luther was sworn in, Pollack sent what
could only be described as a triumphant glare towards Saunders and
Stone. "Mister Luther, when did you first meet the defendant?" 

Luther grasped both armrests. "In June 1973. In West Virginia." 

Stone bent towards Saunders, who shook his head and shrugged at
his attorney's questioning stare.

Pollack nodded. "How old was the defendant then?" 

Luther let a smile play across his lips. "Sixteen, Sir." 

Pollack paused. "Where did you..." 

Stone's chair scraped over the wooden floorboards. "You Honor, I
object. My client has no juvenile criminal record. I demand to
know of what relevance his behavior in high school is to the
serious matter before us." 

Anderson sighed. "Mister Pollack, if you please, we've had quite
enough theatrics for one day." 

The Prosecutor raised both hands. "If the witness will be
permitted to answer this question, I believe I can show the
connection to this case." 

Anderson nodded. "I'll override the objection for now. Continue."

Pollack rested both hands on the railing. "Where did you meet the
defendant in 1973 in West Virginia?" 

Luther's eyes narrowed. "In a psychiatric institution, Sir. His
grandmother had placed him there for recurrent bouts of what she
liked to call 'freezing spells'." 

Pollack began pacing. "Freezing spells?" 

Luther clasped his hands in his lap. "Yes, Sir. He would go
catatonic for short periods of time, a few minutes each day. He'd
resume his actions as if not even aware that time had passed." 

Pollack stopped. "How did you happen to be at this institution?" 

Luther leaned back into the cushions. "I was employed there on a
part-time basis to work my way through college, Sir. I served as
an orderly for five years during the summers." 

"You can verify this through employment records?" 

Luther shook his head. "No, Sir. The institution burned down about
five years ago, with all its records and patient histories." 

Pollack began pacing again. "Very well. Then, let's come forward
to this year, in deference to Defense Council's concerns. When was
the last time you saw the defendant?" 

Luther's small face pulled into a smirk. "In June of this year.
The defendant appeared at my door, late on the evening of the
twenty second, demanding I not reveal anything about his past to
anyone, ever. He then suffered from one of those fits I remembered
from the institution. When he revived, I asked him what was so
important, but he refused to answer. He simply struck me with his
fist until I fell unconscious. I awoke an unknown period of time
later, still on my living room floor, but he was gone." 

Pollack bowed to Stone. "That will be all. Your witness, Council." 

Stone rose. "Your Honor, we were not aware of the existence of
this witness or the possible nature of his testimony. With the
Court's indulgence, I'm asking for a half an hour recess to
discuss this latest development with my client." 

Anderson rapped the granite on the edge of his desk. "Recess
granted. Court will convene again at 11:15. I presume that will be
sufficient?" 

"More than sufficient. Thank you, Your Honor." 

Anderson leaned down to speak to the Bailiff. "Please escort the
members of the jury to the jury room, Mrs. White."

                            --o-0-o--

The tiny room assigned to defense council was barely large enough
for the four of them to stand, once Stone had dropped onto the
table that was pushed along two walls in the room. 

Mulder glared at Saunders. "Why didn't you tell us you suffered
from the catatonia before?" 

The bearded African-American glowered back. "Because I haven't.
Luther is lying. He may have worked at a psychiatric institution
while he was working his way through college, and my family is
from West Virginia, but as for the rest..." He shrugged. 

Scully crossed her arms. "And he's cleverly covered the time he
was replaced by a shape-shifter with this story." 

Stone sighed. "All this is very good, my friends, but it still
won't erase the destruction his testimony has done. No matter what
I ask, it'll look like damage control to the members of the jury.
I can't push him on how he knew it was the defendant attacking
him, because he no doubt has some lie prepared that will seem
plausible. He'll say he felt sorry for you and kept track of you
as you rose to prominence as an attorney." 

Mulder ran his hand through his hair. "But we know who's pulling
the strings in the Shadows. Our smoking friend." 

Stone rubbed his closely cropped beard thoughtfully. "The
technician working in the darkness. Maybe we can start our own
game of cat and mouse. I need some time to think here, my
friends." He stepped out of the glass-walled room, pacing up and
down the long hallway, his head bowed until his chin was resting
on his chest. 

Scully watched the steady, slow progress of his long legs, ambling
to the far wall, reversing, ambling to the near one. After several
minutes, she leaned her shoulder into her partner's side to drawl,
"Looks like you and he have much in common, Mulder." 

The dark-haired agent sighed. "I hope so, Scully." 

Saunders crossed his arms. "Whatever he decides, he'd better come
up with something soon. The recess is almost over." 

Stone froze, then a broad smile grew over his face. He clapped his
hands together once, then bounded back to their little conference
chamber. "I have it, good people. Agent Scully, when I ask for
documentation, hand me one of the X-Files on the desk, all right?" 

She nodded. "I presume it is the threat of evidence that counts,
rather than its presence?" 

He clapped her stoutly on the shoulder. "Now wonder you've been
able to stick it out with Muldah for so long. Let's go, mah
friends."

                            --o-0-o--

Once Luther was settled in the witness chair, Stone ambled slowly
to the panelled railing, resting an elbow there so he was facing
the jury. "Mistah Luthah, your coming forward to testify as to mah
client's mental state in his youth is certainly appreciated." He
allowed what he hoped was a slightly idiotic grin to spread across
his oversized features. 

Luther tried to glance towards Pollack, but the lanky form slumped
against the wood blocked his view. 

Stone snapped upright, the motion setting the slight, balding man
in the witness box on edge. "So, how many other patients did you
become this familiar with during your summers at the psychiatric
institution?" 

Pollack's chair rolled back. Unlike Stone, who preferred to rock a
wooden chair on its rear legs when he sat, the prosecutor sought
to come and go with ease. "Object, Your Honor. Immaterial." 

Stone tipped his head to eyeball the Judge. "On the contrary, Your
Honor. This gentleman has just testified to a mental condition
that plagues my client. Ah'm just attempt'n to determine his
expertise in this area." He waited, knowing the steps in the dance
he and the Prosecutor with the thickening waist were entwined in
all too well. 

Anderson peered down at him. "In light of the recent introduction
of this witness, I'm inclined to grant you a certain degree of
latitude, Mister Stone."

Suddenly conscious he had rubbed his chin while in session, Stone
smoothed down the greying hairs. "Well, Mistah Luthah? How many
others were there that you knew this well?" 

Luther attempted to glare directly through Stone's skull. "Not
that many. It was a private institution, where many of the clients
were from families who wanted their problems hidden away, not
treated." 

Stone shook his head. "Barbaric. And mah client's family was
different? Were they wealthy, middle class, poor?" 

Luther began rubbing the back of his right hand with his left
palm. "I'd say they were poor to lower middle class." 

Pollack was on his feet again. "Objection, Your Honor, what does
this have to do with the murder trial before us?"

Anderson waved him to silence. "You introduced these issues,
Mister Pollack." 

Stone nodded his thanks, then rested both hands on the railing.
"Very well. Did the patients you saw there inspire you to a career
in the field of psychiatry or psychology?" 

The shift gave Luther just enough of a gap to catch a glimpse of
Pollack's left eye, and he took it, leaning slightly to his right.
"Uh, no. It was just a summer job." 

Stone dropped himself onto his left elbow. "Now, Mistah Luthah,
ah'm aksin' yeuw, not Mistah Pollack. If Ah thought the Prosecutor
had personal knowledge of mah client, rest assured ah'd settle him
in your very spot while puttn' on mah case." Detecting a slight
motion in the jury box, he canted his eyes in that direction. The
African-American man seated alone on the far end of the back row
was fidgeting slightly. Deciding to press the advantage, he pulled
himself upright. "Well, be that as it may, would you kindly tell
me this, Mistah Luthah. What was a poo' black boy doin' in a rich
white folks hideaway home?" 

Luther's eyes bulged. "Uh, I'm not sure what you mean." 

Stone began bounding around the open space in front of the judge's
bench. "Come, come, Mistah Luthah, we're both from the south," he
paused to stare him in the eye, "aren't we? This was in the days
when segregation was just beginin' to be whupped, 1971, Ah thought
you said? So there was still one place for white folks," he
stretched out his right arm, then his left, "and another place for
black folks, am Ah correct?"

Luther held Pollack's eye for a long moment. 

Stone loped into his line of sight. "Dew stop lookin' to Mistah
Pollack. Ah already assured you he'll have his chance to testify,
if needs be. We're talkin' 1971, aren't we?" 

Luther shook his head. "No, Sir, 1973." 

Stone nodded. "Ah see. But this was a rich white folk's place in
Tennessee, am I correct?"
 
Luther began rubbing the back of his hand again. "No, Sir, not
Tennessee, West Virginia. Most of the clients were wealthy, yes.
But the defendant's family wouldn't have placed him there if they
couldn't afford it." 

Stone glanced at the jury box surreptitiously. The white-haired
African American had a pinched expression on his face, so the
attorney chose to make his point and move on. "Ah see. Thank yewh
for that r'ssurin' assessment." He reached towards Scully, who
handed him the pre-arranged folder with random sheets of paper in
it. When he took it, he began thumbing through the pages, studying
them with all sincerity, stopping to slide a pair of tortoise-
shell framed reading glasses on his nose. "What part of West
Virginia you'all from, Mistah Luthah?" 

Pollack's fists slammed onto his table, setting a pencil rolling
along its length. "Objection, irrelevant!" 

Stone smiled slowly at the judge. "Your Honor, this fine gentleman
said it was his summer job. Most college students Ah know tend to
work close to home durin' the summer. Bein' as Ah'm from the South
and all, Ah just can't place his accent." 

Anderson shook his head. "Sustained. Ask your next question,
Mister Stone."

Stone bowed towards the judge, then sent a glance back towards
Mulder, his dark eyes glowing. "Of course, Your Honor. Were you a
psychology major, Mistah Luthah? It would make sense, wouldn't it?
You bein' home for the summer, employed in a white folks loony bin
and all." He paused to let the phase settle with the jury members.
"Well?" 

Luther shook his head. "No, I wasn't."

"What *did* you eventually go on to study in college, Mistah
Luthah?" 

Beads of sweat were forming on Luther's high forehead. "My
eventual degree was in Law Enforcement." 

Stone snapped the folder shut, crossing to lean against the
panelling in front of the judge, eyeing the jury as Luther shifted
nervously. "Oh. From West Virginia University?" 

"Err, yes." 

Stone nodded, peeking into the folder again. "Ah didn't know there
was a program in Law Enforcement at WVU." He sent the witness a
small smile. "Well, if you say so, Mistah Luthah. Aftah all, Ah
wasn't there." He snapped the folder shut, returning it to the
auburn-haired agent. Lifting off the frames, he looked up at the
judge. "I'm finished with this witness, Your Honor." 

Anderson turned to Pollack. "Any re-direct?" 

Pollack shook his head. "No, Your Honor, not at this time." 

Anderson leaned over the side the railing towards the witness box.
"Very well, you may stand down for now. But if you are called to
give any further testimony, remember you're still under oath." 

Nodding, Luther retreated hastily to a seat behind Pollack.

Anderson eyed the clock. "Since we are approaching the noon hour,
I'll place the court in recess until one thirty." 

After the courtroom had cleared, leaving Mulder, Scully, Stone and
Saunders alone in the large space, Mulder grinned at his friend.
"Jarred, that was masterful."

"No." Saunders' pupils had narrowed to pin-points. "I do *not*
want my race made an issue in this trial. Never!" He glared up at
the towering attorney. 

Stone bent over the table, resting his weight on crossed arms.
"Let me remind you, Mister Saunders, that *your* life is at stake
here. I will use any and *all* means at my disposal to see to it
that this case is concluded successfully." All traces of the slow-
witted Southerner had vanished. "Race is a painful issue for both
of us, certainly, but that man was obviously lying through his
teeth. He's never been a month in West Virginia is my guess, and
neither have you since leaving home, outside of business trips. Am
I correct?" 

His face granite, Saunders nodded. "You know what the business
was, I'm sure." 

Stone straightened, using his height to drive home his point.
"Yes, and it sickens me. But you are my client, so we'll deal with
that later." 

Scully reached across the swinging double gate to brush Stone's
sleeve. "He's not behind this." 

The three men focused on her. 

She arched her shoulders momentarily. "The Smoking Man isn't
pulling strings, not yet, anyway." 

Saunders' hawk-like gaze locked onto her eyes. "That should be
blitheringly obvious, Agent Scully. *He* would have come up with a
much better lie." 

Mulder jammed both hands in his pockets. "So, who's next? Skinner?
One of the four?" 

Scully rubbed her forehead. "I don't know, Mulder."

                            --o-0-o--

Once the jury was settled, Anderson slapped the granite pad with
his borrowed gavel. "Call your next witness, Mister Pollack." 

After several glances towards the Defense table, the elegantly
dressed Prosecutor rose. "I beg the Court's indulgence, Your
Honor, but my next witness is in Germany. He was expecting to
begin testifying tomorrow." 

Slouching towards his client, Stone whispered to Saunders, "Whom
would they be referring to?" 

Saunders shrugged. "All the contacts I knew from Germany were
killed in the high-rise explosion. I have no idea whom they could
have dredged up." 

Stone studied the edge in the dark eyes, then rose, turning to the
judge after he was on his feet. "Your Honor, this is the second
witness the Prosecution has brought out without informing us as to
either his existence or the nature of the evidence he will be
presenting against my client. Defense Council asks to approach the
bench." 

Anderson beckoned them both towards him.

Pollack bounded to his feet. "Certainly, Your Honor."  

Resting one thick hand on the other, Anderson bent across the
railing to hover close to the two attorneys. "Mister Pollack? Is
this correct?" He glanced at Stone. Have you not informed defense
council of this witness?" 

Pollack shot Stone a triumphant stare. "We regret the
inconvenience we have caused, Your Honor. We only learned of the
existence of this man and the importance of his testimony to our
case this morning." 

Anderson regarded the two men gravely, finally focusing on the
Prosecutor. "I concur with the Defense, Mister Pollack. You've had
the Court's indulgence for one surprise witness, why should I
grant it for a second?" 

Pollack leaned forward. "This witness will reveal the true nature
of the international conspiracy the Defense has contended existed,
Your Honor." 

Anderson rested his chin on the hand closest to Stone. "Mister
Stone? If you'd like to take a few minutes with your client I'd be
willing to grant it." 

Stone glanced back at Saunders before replying. "Thank you, Your
Honor." 

Anderson rose, bringing the rest of persons in the courtroom to
their feet. "I'll need to deliberate in my chambers on this
request, gentlemen. You'll have my decision within an hour." A
thunderclap of granite on wood. "Court is in recess." 

                            --o-0-o--

Pollack forced his feet into a trot, moving deliberately away from
the Courthouse as a black sedan glided silently alongside him.
Once he had put several blocks between him and the tall stone
building, he stopped, waiting while the vehicle hovered beside
him. 

The driver pushed the door open. "It isn't proceeding according to
the Young Turk's plans?" He fingered a packet in his jacket
pocket. 

Pollack slid into the passenger seat. "So far, yes, it is. But the
judge is deliberating on Untersteiner's admissibility. How do you
wish to proceed if I'm not permitted to call him to the stand?" 

Two grey eyebrows arched. "Surely you have something socked away
in that lawyer's bag of tricks you could use. What are the Four
paying you to deliver otherwise?" 

The Prosecutor shifted anxiously. "If that came out, I'd lose my
job." 

The old man lit a cigarette. "Then make certain we have a
conviction, or at least mount an appealable case. As for a back-up
plan, I already have something in the works, so don't lose heart." 

Pollack's hand was on the door release. "Very well. It'll look
good, anyway." 

A long drag. "That's all I wanted from you. If the trial goes back
to the State, well, there are means of seeing that our
inconvenient Mister Saunders is put out of the way for good."

                            --o-0-o--

Barely had the four repaired to defense council's interview
cubicle before Stone burst out angrily, "Who else is he planning
on seating today? One of those little grey men that Muldah here
promises me really do exist?" Crossing his arms, he scanned the
three faces huddled close to him. 

Saunders shrugged. "This really wasn't necessary. I have no idea
who that man is." 

Mulder was livid. "How do we know that? Did Victor Klemper still
have ties to Germany? We've seen the Nazi tactics your people
used. What are you trying to protect? What haven't you told us?" 

Nose to nose with the dark-haired agent, Saunders growled.
"Nothing! I'm the one they want to slaughter here, not you!"

Scully pressed her palm into her partner's chest. "Mulder,
consider this. We know this isn't a plan from the Smoking Man.
Perhaps the shadows are more disorganized than we think." 

Stone slid off the wobbly steel table. "Yes. Deception within
deception. You folks have convinced me that there are all these
secret governments within governments, an anti-United Nations, as
it were. What if, in this vacuum of power created by this coup
you've only glimpsed, the other shadow governments want to take
charge?" 

Spinning away from them all, Mulder put his hands on his hips.
"Yeah. So?" 

Scully looked up to Stone. "Then we have to use this man's
testimony to draw that out, if not for our immediate purpose, but
to know what we'll be facing in the future." 

Mulder, thinking of the three in Santorini, nodded. "Yeah. Maybe
you're right, Scully. Maybe we've been handed another opportunity
we can't pass up."

                            --o-0-o--

Courtroom
Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Wednesday, November 19, 1997
10:03 am 

The Prosecutor leaned across his table to hand the bailiff a slip
of paper. 

After a single nod, she practiced the name silently before calling
out, "Mister Jurgen Untersteiner, please come forward." 

A tall man in a European-cut business suit rose, walking slowly
down the center aisle, his narrow red fingers landing on seat
backs as he approached. 

Pollack rose. "Let me reiterate, Your Honor. We regret the
inconvenience of the delay this witness' arrival has entailed." 

Anderson waved the apology aside.

One hand on the Bible, Untersteiner frowned at the interruption,
then looked to Pollack, who was walking past him without
acknowledgement. 

The Prosecutor paced in front of the jury while the witness was
sworn in, moving across to the box as Untersteiner was settling
into the leather chair. "Herr Untersteiner, thank you for coming
forward on such short notice. To lay the defense council's
concerns to rest, would you please tell us how you happened to be
here today?" A quick glance over his shoulder while the lanky
attorney opened and closed his mouth told Pollack he had silenced
the objections for now. 

The round-faced Bavarian, the natural redness in his cheeks and
nose standing out against his pale skin, nodded. "Of course. Until
just last week, I was under the protection of the National
Security Administration. I had evidence about counter-espionage
agents operating within US borders they wanted to verify." His
heavily accented English, combined with his deep, soft voice, made
his words difficult for the court recorder to capture, and she had
been typing slowly. 

Pollack, noting her hesitation, offered, "Please, Mister
Untersteiner, speak up a bit." 

He nodded. "Very well. The government of the United Germany has
been slowly working its way through the archives of the former
Deuches Democratishes Republic..." 

Pollack glanced at the jury. "You mean East Germany?" 

Untersteiner frowned. "Ah, yes, that is what you call it here. I
was one of the agents working over that information, and among the
papers, we discovered documentation of a cel of counter-agents
within the scientists and engineers brought over at the end of the
Second World War." 

Pollack leaned on the railing. "But I thought those men, like
Werner von Braun, were all checked and double-checked by our own
governments?" 

Untersteiner held up one hand. "Please. They were. They were not
approached, not initially, not for decades. The policy of the,
err, East German government was to wait until the survivors had
advanced in years. With old age comes nostalgia, a longing for the
places of one's childhood. That, they used. They asked, ever so
discretely, to be put in touch with younger men, men who had
worked closely with the original scientists. These were then
approached, in the usual way, with offers of money, or to test for
dissatisfaction with the American way of life."

Pollack eyed the jury. "They were recruited, in other words." 

Untersteiner turned the phrase over in his mind. "Yes, that is how
you call it. They were recruited." 

Pollack waved. "Go on." 

Stone's chair slapped against the railing behind him. "Your Honor,
while this is all very interesting history, none of this testimony
in any way is related to the charges against my client." 

Anderson's gavel clapped against the granite. "Agreed, Mister
Stone. Will the attorney for the People please come to the point?" 

Pollack stepped back to face the judge. "If I may be allowed to
continue, Sir, I believe I can show how this is relevant, Your
Honor." 

Anderson waved him on. 

Pollack rested one hand on the panels separating the judge's seat
from the court. "Your sources state that they purposely avoided
anyone connected with the US government, is that correct?" 

Untersteiner nodded. "Ja. They wanted access to the technology the
East had lost, so they were approaching engineers, computer
scientists, or heads of technology companies spun off the space
program or the aerospace industries." 

Pollack prodded. "But they had little success, did they not?" 

Untersteiner shook his head. "That is correct. But that was before
one of the men removed from Germany, one Victor Klemper, put them
in contact with some old friends of his at a prestigious law firm
in Manhattan. There, they were successful in making several
contacts, among them a young African-American attorney named
Tyrell Lewis Saunders." 

Murmurs in the court were silenced by a sharp rap from Anderson's
gavel. 

Pollack smiled. "Go on. Was Mister Saunders brought into this
little spy ring?"

Untersteiner shook his head. "No, he was not." 

"Oh? And why was that?" 

Untersteiner steepled his fingers. "A psychological assessment was
made of each of the prospective recruits, both through
observations and, in certain cases, direct testing." 

Pollack rested both hands on the railing. "According to these
documents, was Mister Saunders subjected to these tests?" 

Untersteiner nodded. "He was. When approached, he had initially
been eager to join the cel. He was one of the first tested, and
rejected. He was determined to have specific megalomaniacal and
homicidal tendencies that would make him unsuitable for use in a
long-term covert operation." 

"Elaborate for us, please." 

Untersteiner straightened in the seat. "I am not familiar with all
the specifics of the psychological terms, but the basic
conclusions were that the subject had too great a desire to either
work completely on his own to cooperate. Likewise, his drive to be
in charge of any situation meant he would not follow orders
easily. After these tests, he was not contacted further." 

Stone was on his feet. "Your Honor, I must strenuously object to
this line of questioning. Nothing we have heard here has any
bearing on the case against my client." 

Anderson leaned over the edge of the dais. "I must concur with
defense council here, Mister Pollack. Unless you can show
otherwise, I'll be forced to ask the jury to disregard anything
they have heard and have this witness' testimony stricken from the
record." 

Pollack bowed slightly. "My next question will make the connection
immediately clear, Your Honor." He faced the witness again. "You
weren't only working with the NSA, were you, Mister Untersteiner?" 

The blond man shook his head. "No, I was not. There were two FBI
agents involved in the task force examining the East German
documents with the NSA." 

"Can you give us their names?" 

Untersteiner's deep voice went soft. "Richard Aherns and Andrew
Marchland." 

The murmurs in the courtroom rose to an insistent buzz at the
mention of the victims' names. 

Pollack turned to the defense council's table with a triumphant
glimmer in his eye. "I have no further questions at this time." 

Stone was on his feet. "Your Honor, in light of the witness'
testimony, we would ask that the cross examination be postponed
until we have a chance to examine the documents of which he
speaks. We will be filing a Freedom of Information request to
obtain those records, unless the People plan on introducing them
into evidence." 

Anderson nodded. "That is eminently fair." He turned to Pollack,
now settled at his place by the double gate. "How about it, Mister
Pollack? Do you have these documents, or does Mister Stone have to
file for them?"  

Pollack rose. "Since some of the materials contain information
pertaining to ongoing covert activities, we're having them
sanitized so that they can be introduced as evidence. Mister Stone
will be free to subject them to any and all analysis he wishes at
that time." 

Anderson shifted. "Does that suit the Defense Council?" 

Stone nodded, a touch of resignation in the action. "Yes, Your
Honor." 

Anderson turned to the witness. "Mister Untersteiner, you may
stand down. Please keep yourself available for cross examination
until Defense Council wishes to call you, and remember, you will
still be under oath." He looked over at Pollack. "Do you have any
more witnesses for us, Mister Pollack, or have you stretched this
Court's patience sufficiently?" 

Chagrin coloring his cheeks, Pollack rose. "If it please the
court, that was our final witness." 

Anderson eyed the clock before facing Stone. "Is the Defense
Council ready to begin its case, or should we wait until morning?" 

Stone called from his slump under the table. "We would prefer to
begin in the morning, Your Honor." 

Anderson nodded. "Very well. Court stands adjourned until the hour
of ten tomorrow morning." One rap, then the high seat was empty. 

                            --o-0-o--

Room 247
Allegheny View Motel
Wednesday, 6:13 pm

Stopping outside her bathroom, Scully heard the door for her
partner's room open and slam shut. <He's back.> After listening to
the bedsprings creak, then the crack of a fist against the wall,
she knew the long, relaxing shower she had promised to treat
herself to after her extra laps was out of the question. Still in
her bathing suit, she collected her room key card with a sigh and
crossed the hall. "Mulder?" 

There were angry thumps as he approached the door. "If Jarred
called, I'm not hungry." More stomps, receding to the far end of
the room. 

Scully rubbed the back of her neck. "Mulder, we've faced this
before." She propped herself against the mud-brown painted steel,
the color as distasteful and utilitarian as the pale green of the
hall. "Mulder?" She lost the struggle to suppress her undertone of
fatigue as she called him more softly. Failing to hear his
approach this time, she found she was staggering to regain her
balance when he pulled the door open. 

Mulder grasped his partner's shoulder, a glimmer of a smirk
crossing his long face when he took in the black one piece.
"Sorry. Come'on in." 

She settled into the closest armchair. "We'll beat this, Mulder.
We will." She raised her chin, hoping her posture would convey the
certainty she feared her voice lacked. 

Pulling off the sweat-soaked thermal shirt, Mulder dropped onto
the foot of the bed. "We have to, Scully. This is our best shot at
exposing the shadows." He yanked off his running shoes, tossing
them and the black Gore-tex towards his bathroom door. "But what
if their evidence is *too* good? What do I do then?" 

Her breath caught at his slip. <Do you really think you'll be
abandoned again?> "*We* find the flaws in it. Pollack may have
given *us* the break *we* need, you know." 

Her repeated emphasis snapped his hazel eyes up to meet her green-
blue ones. <Thanks, Scully.> "Oh?" 

She slid to the end of the scratchy tan cushion. "We get to make
our case first, present all those mounds of evidence, slowly,
carefully. You know Stone won't recall Untersteiner the minute the
documents clear. You know we can give it to the guys, to Pendrell,
to *anybody* to find any weaknesses." Shifting over beside him,
she made a face, then eased away from him with a teasing grimace.
"I think you were right earlier, Mulder, this is an opportunity we
can't pass up." 

He ran both hands through his hair, the perspiration leaving it
matted. "You think these documents will turn out to be real, don't
you?" He sent her a hopeless look. 

Scully shook her head. "I think whatever age the documents purport
to be will turn out to have been correct. I think the
psychological tests will have been genuine." 

Letting out an exasperated snort, he bounded off the bed. 

Undaunted, she continued. "I think that's how far back the cover-
up goes." 

Now he knelt to look her in the eye. "You think they've prepared
for this decades ago?" He shook his head. "Jeez, Scully, we don't
stand a chance." 

She set her jaw firmly. "I think they've been prepared for *a*
leak, for *a* turncoat, but it will take time and sophistry to
tailor the authentic documents to match *this* leak, *this*
turncoat. We've been through this exercise before, as I said out
there." She waved at the door. "The old men, the ones who really
knew Saunders, are dead. The new leaders don't know him all that
well, or they never would have kept him at arm's length until he
came over to us." 

He flopped angrily into the armchair. "But there is one old man
still alive, Scully." 

She nodded. "We *know* he's not working with them or Luther would
have come up with a better story." 

He bounced to his feet. "Yeah, I guess. How can you be so cool
with all these games within games, Scully? How?" He bent over,
gripping his knees to keep his balance. 

She leaned forward until her forehead nearly touched his. "We know
we're doing the right thing, Mulder. We have the truth. That's
all." She closed her eyes. "That has to be enough. It *has* to." 

Straightening, he touched her shoulder. "Sorry. I keep forgetting
you'll be the one in the hot seat tomorrow. Go hit the shower,
Scully." 

Nodding, she stepped towards the door. "It's always easier to tell
the truth, you know." 

He held the door for her. "Yeah, that way we don't have to
remember what lies we told." 

She looked into his face a final time, hoping her words had been
enough, afraid they were not. "Mulder? They don't know what we
have, you realize." 

He leaned against the doorframe. "How do you figure that?" 

She crossed her arms. "We never had the time to file proper
reports on what we discovered in the Arctic back at the Hoover
Building, we've kept it all with us. There's no way they can has
accessed it off our computers. They don't know what the guys know
about the Kindred's DNA, nor do they have the videotapes. They
can't touch that." 

He chewed his lower lip. "Yeah." Something approaching an insight
dawned. "Yeah." He sniffed. "I guess it's me that needs a shower,
Scully." 

Relieved, she lifted one corner of her mouth. "OK. You still not
hungry?" 

He favored her with a lop-sided grin. "And not have an audience
for my next theory? You're nuts, Scully." 

She tossed her head. "Stop taking all my good lines, partner." She
slid her key card through the lock and stepped into her room.

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Thursday, November 20, 1997
10:12 am

The heavy-set woman in blue stared at Scully, then spoke in her
most officious tones. "The Defense calls Dana Katherine Scully to
the stand!"

Judge Anderson found himself beaming his approval at the change in
strategy when the auburn-haired agent pushed through the low
gates. "Let me remind you, Agent Scully, that you are still under
oath."

The diminutive doctor nodded as she stepped into the witness box.
"Yes, Your Honor." She glanced up quickly at the fleshy cheeks
before she turned her attention to the lanky giant crossing
towards her from the defense table.

Stone smiled politely at the jury before he turned to Scully,
seated, straight-backed, with her hands folded in her lap. For
this all-important day of testimony, she had chosen one of her
tailored grey skirted suits, an off-white silk blouse, grey
leather flats, and a narrow green scarf. The juries in the two
mock trials Stone had staged had reacted most positively to her in
this exact outfit. 

The lanky attorney stood in front of her, their differences in
height reduced by the elevated platform of the witness box. "Agent
Scully, good morning." 

She blinked once, then responded from her endless repetitions with
Stone in the mock trials. "Good morning, Mister Stone." She set
her lips in a serious, but welcoming smile.

The towering Southerner bowed his head once. "Let's return to the
occasion of your first meeting with the defendant. Would you
relate to us, please the details of the case you and Agent Mulder
were working on?" 

Scully nodded, speaking carefully, but with more inflection than
she normally used. The mock trials had revealed that she came
across as bored otherwise. "Certainly. We had been alerted to the
deaths of several abortion doctors across the country." Stepping
out of the witness box, she lifted a pointer from the shelf of an
oak easel, turning over a cover sheet to reveal the photographs of
the Gregors. "What intrigued us was that all of these murder
victims had identical appearances, but were from cities all over
the country." She tapped each photo, calling off the physician's
name and locality. 

Stone stood by the defense table to give the jurors and
prosecutors a clear view of her evidence. "Why would that matter,
Agent Scully?" 

She rested the pointer back on the shelf as she replied. Her
tendency to move her hands as she spoke would have been a
distraction with the exaggeration of the long weighted aluminum
rod. "Normally, a case of this political sensitivity would have
been delegated to a different division of the Bureau, Violent
Crimes or Behavioral Sciences, if it was deemed a serial killing,
as this eventually was revealed to be. But, the identical
appearances of the victims placed it squarely in the purview of
the X-Files." 

Stone held up one hand. "X-Files? We keep hearing that term. Would
you explain it for the members of the jury, please?" 

Scully faced them directly, keeping her hands at her sides. "The
X-Files were initially collected at the behest of Former Director
J. Edgar Hoover. They are a set of case files that documented
unsolved investigations containing obscure or unusual aspects. We
have X-File cases dating back to 1946. These documents, as with
most of the oddities surrounding our former director," she favored
the jury with a slight smile, pleased to glimpse a positive
response, "were kept hidden in the basement of the building named
after him. My partner, Agent Mulder," she pointed to him, "re-
opened these cases back in 1991, while he was still with the
Behavioral Sciences unit. Agent Mulder is a psychologist who drew
up profiles of serial killers there. I am a medical doctor with a
specialty in forensic pathology. I was assigned to the X-Files in
March of 1992 to verify or refute the scientific accuracy of the
reports Agent Mulder was filing. Between us, we have a case
closure rate of over 82%, one of the highest in the Bureau." 

Pollack was on his feet. "Your Honor, to spare the Court's time,
the People are willing to stipulate that Agent Scully has
expertise in these matters."

Judge Anderson, his chin in his hand, grumbled as he turned to the
prosecutor. "I'm going to deny your motion, Mister Pollack. These
matters, as you so call them, are hardly in the same category as
fingerprinting analysis or DNA testing." He returned to his
contemplation of the diminutive agent. "The defense may proceed
with its case." 

Stone nodded. "And what did you find when you began checking the
veracity of Agent Mulder's reports?" 

Scully flicked her eyes at her partner before she replied. "Agent
Mulder was willing to pursue less substantial leads in the course
of these investigations than I initially had patience for, Sir. I
soon found myself using all my medical and scientific knowledge to
explain the nature of the cases we were investigating." She closed
her eyes momentarily, mentally chastising herself for not speaking
plainly, even at the cost of exposing a disagreement. One of the
outstanding conclusions from the mock trials was that her long-
winded circumlocutions lost some of the test jury members. 

Stone moved in quickly. "But that was what made your efforts such
a success, was it not? Two different viewpoints, observing the
same phenomena, driving to a consensus?" 

Pollack called from his seat. "Objection, immaterial, Your Honor."

Sighing, Anderson concurred, since however pleasant it was for him
to contemplate the slight woman testifying, justice had to be
served. "Sustained. Get to the point, Mister Stone." 

After watching understanding dawn in the eyes of the history
teacher, front and center in the jury box, he nodded. <This woman
can see subtlety. Good.> "Of course, your honor." He leaned on the
edge of the defense table. "What did your two differing viewpoints
lead you to conclude about these identical doctors?" 

Scully tipped her head. "These men were indeed being killed, Sir,
all by a single individual." She flipped the stiff paper over,
exposing a single photograph to the jury. "By this personage, a
Bounty Hunter, of sorts." Her eyes flicked to her partner again.
"Agent Mulder was pursuing this individual when I found it
necessary to contact the defendant for the first time." She
stepped back into the witness box. "My initial supposition, that
we were dealing with sextuplets, was incorrect." 

Stone leaned on the railing. "How did you come to realize that?"

Scully's eyes dropped to her hands momentarily. "During my
investigation, I encountered four more persons, all identical in
appearance to the doctors who had been murdered. In searching the
medical literature, there have never been more than a handful of
live births of sextuplets all of whom survived to adulthood. Nor,
is it possible for a woman to give birth to successive sets of
identical twins, since such individuals arise from the splitting
of the same fertilized ovum. My next hypothesis, that we were
dealing with a group of men, surgically altered to be identical,
also proved incorrect when I obtained DNA samples from the four
personages who had come to me for protection."

Stone carried an oversized yellow envelope from the defense bench
to Scully. "This DNA record, to be entered as defense exhibit
number one, is from one of those individuals, is that correct?" 

She slid the Mylar out to check it. "It is. It bears my mark." 

Stone passed the sheet to the bailiff. "What was unusual about the
DNA in question?" 

Scully held herself perfectly still. "It contains six nucleotide
bases, rather than four." 

Stone looked to the jury. "Would you please explain that, Doctor
Scully?" 

Stepping to the easel, she flipped to a new page. "Certainly, Sir.
Most normal DNA contains four bases, adenine, thymine, cytosine
and guanine. These bases are used in pairs to recombine into the
genetic sequences for the chromosomes of every living thing on the
planet." 

Pollack began whispering heatedly to his two assistants, who where
scribbling notes. The African American woman passed a sheet to one
of the grey-suited men in the row just behind her. 

When the man, as blond and as thin as only youth could be, rose to
leave, Mulder followed him. <The jury needs the introductory
genetics lecture for what's to come, not me. I've heard it often
enough.> Walking purposefully, the blond man hurried down the wide
front steps to the street, turning into the parking lot. The dark-
haired agent glanced at the license plate on a tan rental Taurus,
tucking the characters and digits into his memory for further
investigation. 

After slipping behind the wheel of his own rental, Mulder followed
his quarry, keeping well back, out of sight. But the tan Ford was
making wide arcs, turns and twists through streets clogged with
parked cars and taxis. Mulder was forced to keep closer than he
wished, hoping he would not deter the man from his given
rendezvous. 

After a half an hour, the Taurus turned off into an underground
parking lot, not far from the Courthouse. Mulder slid his rental
into a street spot, wondering what stroke of luck left that space
open, then crossed into the darkness. He saw the taillights of the
Ford as it turned to the right, descending to the next level.
Hurrying down the stairs, he checked both ways when he exited. The
Taurus was nowhere in sight. Muttering under his breath, he
backtracked up the ramp, where his quarry had stepped out of the
car to argue with another man in a dark suit and sunglasses. 

<How does he see in here?> Mulder crouched behind a pillar,
listening through the noise of a nearby fan to a quick exchange.
But what he was hearing made no sense whatsoever. The two were
communicating in clicks and whistles, like what he remembered from
the warehouse where the Samanthas had set up their laboratory. The
form of the blond man began shimmering, morphing into something
else, then the sounds stopped. 

"They know." The blond man offered, his shape solidifying again. 

"Do they have proof?" Sunglasses queried. 

"Yes. DNA analysis. Something must be done quickly, or there will
be exposure." 

"Of course. We have been preparing for just such a leak for many
years." Stepping closer to Blondie, Sunglasses reached into his
jacket. 

Assuming he was reaching for a weapon, Mulder slipped his pistol
out of his ankle holster. <Wait.> Following those years of
instinct, he kept back, watching and listening. 

Sunglasses then reached directly into the abdomen of Blondie,
placing the black cube he had lifted away there. 

Mulder chewed his lower lip. <No blood. They must still be
watching the trial. I'd better get back.> By the time he returned
to street level, the Taurus was out of the parking garage, two
coins clanking against the steel of the parking booth collection
box. 

A uniformed policewoman was waiting by his rental, until Mulder
inserted his key into the ignition. "Is this your vehicle, Sir?" 

Mulder froze. "Yes, it is. I'm with the FBI, following a suspect.
I'm just going to reach into my coat to remove my ID badge. OK?" 

Her lips set in a firm line, she nodded. After calling in his
number, she yanked the green ticket from under his wiper blade.
"You can go. Only next time, check the street signs, Mister
Mulder." She spun on her heel, leaving him standing alone on the
pavement. 

Mulder pounded the top of the rental in frustration. His quarry
had probably finished his mission for Pollack and had returned.
<Scully'll kill me for being gone this long.> 

                            --o-0-o--

Dana Scully paused, her forehead tipping only a fraction as her
partner reentered the courtroom. 

Turning his eyes slightly to his left, Mulder noted that his
quarry had indeed returned to his place on the front row,
apparently none the worse for his additional organ. 

Scully continued her analysis smoothly. "Using one microscopic
sample, no matter how meticulously collected, would be suggestive,
but far from conclusive. Instead, we chose to subdivide the
physical evidence into six distinct groups, keeping about two
thirds of the materials collected in reserve. We divided the
remainder into three separate samples sent to three different
testing facilities, all of whom were requested to use different
techniques." 

Stone glanced at the jury. Several of the members were nodding in
agreement, several wore carefully blank expressions, and two wore
frowns of slight puzzlement. 

He faced the diminutive agent, now seated primly in the witness
box. "What overall observations can you make from these separate
analyses, Agent Scully?" 

She rose to walk to the easel once more. "While there were
differences between the results from the three laboratories, all
were within the error bounds I have indicated previously. Further,
those variations were no more than should have been encountered
since the evidence was collected from four separate individuals.
Yet, all the results were in agreement on one particular. All the
materials contained this six base DNA." 

Stone was sailing now, simply prompting the pathologist to break
up her otherwise complex testimony. "Do you have any hypotheses
that might explain the presence of this six base DNA?" 

Pollack sprang from behind the table. "Objection, Your Honor,
calls for a conclusion from the witness." 

Anderson shook his head impatiently. "Overruled, Mister Pollack.
The expertise of the witness in this area has already been
established. The defense may continue with its case." 

Stone nodded his thanks. "Agent Scully?" 

She resumed her seat. "I cannot tell you, with one hundred percent
certainty, where this DNA came from, but I can tell you where it
did not." She folded her hands in her lap. "The proteins that make
up the two extra bases do not occur naturally. The DNA from any
species that has been sampled, from the simplest virus to the most
complex chordate, does not contain these polypeptides. Nor would
it be possible for us to have created these individuals in a
laboratory, given our present-day knowledge." 

Stone eyed the jury again. "Why not, Agent Scully? You've just
delineated for us how sophisticated our DNA analysis techniques
presently are." 

She nodded. "Analysis, certainly. But that is only a small part of
the problem. These were fully functioning individuals, capable of
performing delicate operations during their lifetimes and
achieving positions of some prominence. Any genetic abnormalities
would have left them with physical deformities, lowered in
intelligence, or simply unable to develop. *Any* abnormality. They
must have been the end products of a long-term, and ultimately
successful process of experimentation." 

Stone shoved his hands in his pockets. "Now, hold on there, Agent
Scully. That's a big leap for normal folks. Would you mind helping
the rest of us understand all this?" 

She leaned forward, allowing a glimmer of genuine excitement to
show in her face. "The closest analogy I can draw would be to say
that a full chromosomal sequence is a book, written with words of
four letters. Rearrange the letters and the words will become
nonsense. Rearrange enough words and the text becomes meaningless.
To make the analogy exact, let us say that we open this book to
read it, but can change the text with the book closed. Let us also
say that the time the book is closed is the time of development of
the individual from fertilization to adulthood." 

Stone nodded. "So we don't know how badly mangled the text is
until the book is opened. At adulthood."

She glanced at the jury. "Exactly. It is one thing to know a full
chromosomal sequence. It is another thing to know precisely what
every individual sequence does. It is yet another thing to know
how to change those sequences beneficially. In time and with
sufficient experimentation, we will know all these things, but we
do not know them at present. Yet, here we have a book written in
six letter words where the text makes sense." 

Stone rested both hands on the railing. "How long would you expect
such experimentation to take?" 

She held up both hands, palms up. "For a sentient species,
centuries. Not to make the modifications, those can be made in
minutes. But to wait until the individuals mature to see the
effects of the variations, will take the centuries. To happen
naturally, to allow evolution to operate, would take about as long
as it has here on earth." 

Stone began pacing in front of the jury. "So you're saying to us
that this experiment may already have happened somewhere
naturally, other than here on earth?" 

She held her self rigid. "That's correct. It may have." 

Anderson called for order over the murmurs. 

Stone smiled slowly. "That's a pretty tall tale you're askin' us
to swallow there, Agent Scully." 

She nodded. "Yes, the hypothesis seems far-fetched, yet it would
explain the evidence we have obtained and analyzed. Six base DNA
does not occur naturally. There has been insufficient time for us
to perform all the necessary experiments to produce high-
functioning individuals with six base DNA. A logical conclusion is
to suggest that the DNA, and these individuals, are produced
elsewhere." 

The lanky attorney propped himself against the railing of the jury
box. "You'll ever considered the possibility that somebody might
be pullin' your leg mighty hard?" 

Scully arched both eyebrows. "We took specific precautions to
prevent tampering by any one individual. Before the doctors
arrived, the quarters where they were kept, prior to their
untimely demise, were thoroughly sanitized by a team of evidence
experts brought in from the Bureau. Afterwards, I worked with a
separate group of agents to collect samples from all the corpses.
I had a different agent divide the evidence into parts for
analysis. The portions were delivered by bonded couriers to three
separate labs, returned from the labs by a different courier." She
pointed to the folders on the defense table. "You will see, in the
records I have kept, that the agents and couriers who handled the
materials were recorded as per proper Bureau procedures." 

Stone held up one green folder. "These are the documents you refer
to?" He glanced at the prosecutor when Pollack began to rise.
"Don't you set the people frettin' there, Mister Pollack. This is
defense exhibit number two so you can take a whack at it. You'all
can read it in bed if needs be." Congratulating himself on the
smirks that crossed two of the jury members' faces, he passed the
folder to the bailiff, then prompted his witness. "So, you don't
think it's a hoax, do you, Agent Scully?" 

She shook her head. "If a hoax had been perpetrated at any point
in the case, it would have been by the four men who put themselves
under the Bureau's protection. Each was killed in his cell, and it
is unlikely that any sane individual would be so dedicated as to
willingly lay down his life for a known fraud. Nor did they simply
leave a fake body behind and escape. We had all points of entrance
and egress covered by guards and video cameras, windows included.
If somehow they managed to perform this feat despite the
surveillance, they still would have left hair, skin, or other
microscopic samples of normal human DNA behind. None were found in
the re-examination of the cells or the bodies that were left. I
performed the autopsies on what was left of the four individuals
myself, as the documentation entered into evidence will verify. I
took samples of nearly every portion of the corpses that remained,
all of which contained this six base DNA." 

Stone glanced at the white-haired schoolteacher, who was frowning
slightly. "Your hypothesis that they 'came from elsewhere', Doctor
Scully, how strongly do you hold to it?" 

Genuinely surprised by the question, she arched both eyebrows
before replying. "It is, at present, the only explanation
consistent with all the facts in hand. Should new, *reliable*
evidence come to light, or should another, more conventional,
hypothesis be proposed, I shall examine either with due care. If
the evidence, after proper verification, shows the present data to
be fraudulent, than I shall disregard it. If another theory is
presented that links the facts more consistently, then I shall
hold to it as strongly as I do the one I have currently proposed."
She closed by folding her hands in her lap. 

Pollack was on his feet. "You Honor, while we have just witnessed
an entertaining tale of science fiction, none of what we have
heard so far has any bearing on the case before us. I must ask
that the testimony be stricken from the record." 

Anderson eyed him with annoyance before turning to Stone. "The
People have a point, Mister Stone. Defense Council has tied these
analyses, thorough as they are, to the present case by the
slightest of threads." 

Stone was before the high seat in an instant. "One final question,
Your Honor, will I think make all that clear." At a nod from the
oversized head, the lanky attorney faced the witness. "Agent
Scully, the prosecution would have us believe that the defendant
has been carefully feeding you and Agent Mulder evidence over the
years to make it look like there is a huge organization out to
protect us all from aliens, when no such organization actually
exists. Tell us, was the defendant present for any of the events
you have described for us today: the meetings with these four
individuals, the investigations into their deaths, your autopsies,
the DNA analysis?" 

Scully shook her head. "No, Sir, he was not. He was only involved
in determining the whereabouts of Agent Mulder. My partner was not
part of the investigation I have presented here." She opened her
mouth to say more, but closed it at a slight shake of the defense
attorney's head.

Anderson rapped his gavel once. "Since the testimony of the
witness has run us well past the normal end of the Court's day, I
would like to place the court in recess until the morning, if this
is a convenient stopping point for you, Mister Stone." 

The lanky attorney bowed slightly. "Indeed it is, Your Honor." 

The judge leaned over the bench. "Since I can foresee you will be
spending much time with this witness, Mister Stone, would it be
agreeable to all parties to open the day's session slightly
earlier, say, at nine?" 

Stone let a small grin crease his features. "That would be most
appreciated, Your Honor." 

Pollack called out from his seat. "The People concur, Your Honor."

Anderson looked out over the audience. "Then court is adjourned
until the hour of nine in the morning." 

                            --o-0-o--

Mulder waited to approach his partner until the room was cleared
of all but Stone and themselves. "That assistant of theirs is one
of the shape-shifters. I observed him meeting another man who
placed a black cube inside his body. We must have them worried as
to our abilities to identify them." 

Rubbing her temples, she nodded. "I agree. That cube is probably
some anti-detection device. I'll bring the UV sensor to court
tomorrow." 

He touched her arm. "You were awesome up there, Doctor. You made a
believer out of me." 

She flicked her green-blue eyes to his face. "Thanks, but you'd
believe anything, Mulder." She brushed her shoulder against his
arm to soften the criticism. "Stone was right about soft-selling
the alien aspects. There's just so much more ground to be
covered." 

Stone bent over them both. "You'll do fine, Dana. Your closing
statements about being open to other hypotheses worked with the
jury." 

Mulder glanced at his partner, pride and affection shining down at
Scully before he looked to the hazel eyes above them. "It only
took four years, Jarred." 

Stone broke into his slow, wide grin. "You folks look like you
could use some dinner." Stepping back, he pushed open the double
gate. "Shall we?" 

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Wednesday, November 26, 1997
4:27 pm 

Jarred Stone smiled at the diminutive agent in the witness box.
With only his questions to provide minor prompting, she had led
the jury through all of the evidence the X-Files team had compiled
on the Consortium. It was now that the extensive verifying legwork
of the past two months were brought out to provide any and all
support to the documents in their possession. 

After introducing the handwriting and materials analysis that
determined their authenticity, she outlined the route for removal
of Axis expertise as given in the D'Amato documents. There would
be follow-up witnesses, flown in from Italy and now in protective
custody, two elderly workers employed by the D'Amato family at the
time. 

A week-long trip to Farmington by Mulder and Scully, and a tape-
recorder, had allowed them to retrieve most of the contents of the
DAT tape. Neither had been surprised to discover, upon returning
to the Strughold mine, that the ziggurat both remembered, was
leveled, the pit beneath where the files had been, filled in.
Rosen, Nichols and the Gunmen had spent their time interviewing
witnesses, collecting physical evidence from sites. Undaunted,
Scully had led the court through that evidence in detail. A test
pit at the Leper Colony had brought up remains that Scully had
analyzed, and after suitable warnings, she had reviewed the
particulars of her autopsies with twelve grimacing jurors. 

The declassified document she and Mulder had retrieved in January
was introduced, adding to the mound of materials accumulating in
the front of the courtroom. Susan Miles would appear after the
witnesses from Italy to explain the DNA signatures taken from the
warehouse in West Virginia. 

At the end of every presentation of a segment of evidence, Pollack
had dutifully objected, calling their results immaterial, asking
that the testimony be stricken from the record. Stone would always
respond by asking Scully whether this could all be the work of one
individual, acting alone, responding to a mental instability that
predisposed him to megalomania. Her answer, as always, was to
point to the data collected, to show that it would take many
persons working for many years to account for everything they had
found. 

Yet now, she was finished. Her timing could not have been more
fortuitous. Stone knew the judge wanted to grant the jury and the
court a lengthy Thanksgiving recess, and he had congratulated
himself on their luck in drawing the jurist they had. Now, the
impressions of the past week would have time to work on their
memories without rebuttal. He nodded to the agent, then looked up
at the judge. "I have no further questions of this witness, Your
Honor." 

Anderson eyed the marble clock hanging above the double doors of
the courtroom entrance. "Thank you, Mister Stone, Agent Scully. If
the prosecution has no objections, I will place the court in
recess until Tuesday of the coming week." He glared down at
Pollack. 

The prosecutor opened his mouth to begin to object, but seeing the
glint of steel in the judge's eye, simply shook his head. "No
objections, Your Honor." 

Anderson clapped the gavel once. "Then this session is adjourned." 

After the judge's and jury's ceremonial departure, the courtroom
filled with the sounds of men and women coughing, collecting coats
and briefcases. Each was quickly making his or her way to the
outer doors as expediently as possible, but the effect was that of
a stop-action stampede. 

Jarred Stone bent over his client, offering politely, "Ah'll be
returnin' to North Carolina tonight, if you'd be interested in
accompanying me, Tyrell." 

Saunders gaze held Stone's briefly, then the bearded African
American looked away. "I think not. I'm not one for holiday
gatherings." He raised his eyes to the towering attorney's. "I
thank you for the offer, but please, go enjoy your wife's
company." 

Stone turned to speak over the railing to Mulder, but the tall
agent was hollow-eyed, slumped far down in the seat. 

Dana Scully had remained in the witness booth, massaging her
temples. When she felt an oversized hand curl around her arm, she
spoke without looking up. "I just need a minute, Mulder." 

"Ah think he does, too, Dah-nah." 

She raised her eyes to meet Stone's. "Oh, that's right. Tomorrow
is *the* day." She was on her feet, but the lanky attorney refused
to release her. 

Stone leaned against the panelling. "What day?" 

Impatient, she replied laconically. "His sister's birthday." 

Nodding, Stone stepped away. 

After a quick glance at Saunders, she settled beside her partner.
"Mulder?" 

The tall agent rested his head on the edge of the seat back, but
kept his eyes shut tightly. "Good job, Scully." 

The auburn-haired woman waved off Saunders and Stone, knowing
Mulder needed privacy now, above all else. The praise had been
offered without emotion, neither the affection she had felt,
radiating gently from him over the past week, nor the scathing
sarcasm she remembered from their first cases together. 

Once the double doors closed, she rested one hand on his shoulder.
"We can call Santorini, if that would help."

The dark lashes remained pressed against his cheeks. 

"Do you want to drive back to the Vineyard? We could do that this
weekend. We don't have to be in court until..." 

He pushed himself past her, waving her words of concern off as he
ran out the double-wide entrance to the courtroom. 

Scully rested her forehead on the cool, thick wood in front of
her. <What did I do? What did I say? What did I miss?> She
mentally replayed the last week, running through their day to day
interactions. Mulder had been delighted, exultant at the jury
reactions to her testimony. It was apparent that each of the
twelve members found her presentation credible, her evidence
convincing. She and Stone had rehearsed and prepared for two weeks
prior to the opening of the case, gauging how much technical
content each question should have for maximum impact. Their
initial plans to use Mulder first, to lay a more personal
foundation for their case had been scrapped when Stone saw how
uncomfortable he still was on the stand. 

She leaned back, rubbing her face with both hands. <Was that it?
Is he upset with me because I stole his glory, *his* X-Files in
the eyes of the law?> Collecting her belongings, she frowned. <We
should be past that. He's the section head, not me. I made it
obvious in the testimony that he was the one who initiated nearly
every one of these cases.> Slipping into her coat, she froze. She
was so used to another pair of hands helping her that she snorted
in frustration when the sleeve caught between two seats. 

"Mul..." She chewed her lower lip. <He's not out there.> Tugging
until the wool worked free, she heard a snap as one of the buttons
broke in two. <Great. This was new.> Collecting her notes, she
spun when the she heard someone enter the courtroom from the
judge's chambers. 

"Agent Scully, are you all right?" Looking up from her work, the
bailiff stopped stacking folders and bags of evidence, photographs
and autopsy reports for lock-up. 

Scully squared her shoulders. "Yes, I'm fine." The words sounded
unconvincing, even to her ears. 

The blue-shirted woman crossed to stand by the railing. "If it
makes you feel any better, you've convinced me, and after all the
weird stories I've heard, that's saying something." 

Scully nodded, still confused about her partner's sudden
departure. "Thank you. We only wanted to get as much of what we've
learned over the years into the public record." She looked over
her shoulder. "But..." She shook her head. "Have a good
Thanksgiving." 

The bailiff returned to her work. "You, too." 

                            --o-0-o--

Allegheny View Motel
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Wednesday, 7:23 pm

Scully turned the knob at the first knock. "Mulder?" 

Her partner, sweaty from a long run, stood without. "You can't
keep denying these psychic abilities, Doctor." He cocked his head.
"May I come in?" 

The diffident request had her pulling the door open wide. "Of
course." After he flopped into a chair, she handed him her bottle
of spring water, settled on the edge of the bed across from him,
and waited. 

Mulder took a sip, then another, before screwing the cap on
tightly and looking up at her. "Sorry about hairing out on you." 

She leaned forward. "Mulder, those are your cases I was
presenting. I tried to make that clear on the stand." 

His lips set in a firm line, he shook his head. "They're ours,
Scully, yours and mine. If you hadn't had the presence of mind to
pull all that physical evidence out of the cells where the Gregors
died," he studied her carefully, "while I was tilting at
windmills, we would have had nothing. Nothing at all." 

She glanced at the green carpet before she slid off the mattress
to bend into his space. "What are you trying to say, Mulder?" 

He pushed himself to his feet, prowling the room in frustration.
"I don't know. I ran for ten miles and I still don't know. I don't
*feel* anything, no guilt, no frustration, no worry. Just
nothing." He ran his hand through his sticky hair. "Scully?" He
faced her. "What?" 

The auburn-haired woman was smiling, then let out a chuckle as she
approached him. "Mulder, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be doing this,
but," she dropped into the chair, smirking uncontrollably, "I'm
sorry. Oh, Mulder!" 

The sight of his partner, her face contorted with delight, set a
grin tugging at his own lips. "What?" Kneeling, he held her
upright by the shoulders. "Scully?" 

A quick shake of her head, then her arms slid around his neck.
"Oh, Mulder." Chewing her lower lip, she hugged him tightly. "Only
you." 

He dropped both arms in place around her back. "Only me what?" He
tried to pull away, but she refused to release him. "What?" 

Finally in control of her emotions, she straightened. "Only you
would be frustrated by success, partner." 

Standing, he stepped away. "Oh." Pressing his fists into his hips,
he cocked his head again. "So, what do we do now?" 

She shrugged. "Whatever we feel like. We have five days, you know.
Sleep late, find some diner open tomorrow, stuff ourselves until
we're sick, whatever." A quick upwards glance told her he was
still frowning. "Or we take a quiet day off, so you can..." 

He shook his head. "Think about Sam? Yeah, we'll see." He headed
towards the door, stopping with his hand on the lever. "Dinner?" 

Stepping out of her flats, she looked over. "Sure. After you
shower, though." 

"Yeah. OK." He pulled the steel away. 

Listening while the latch disengaged across the hall, she
commented softly. "Only you, Mulder. Only you."

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Tuesday, December 2, 1997
10:09 am 

Pollack waited until Scully was settled in the witness box before
he rose. He picked his path to the front of the courtroom with
care, stopping by the carts of folders and trays of evidence now
stacked in front of the judge's dais. After randomly lifting an
envelope from the steel mesh basket closest the jury, he stood in
front of Scully, bowing his head in greeting. 

The diminutive agent waited, her porcelain features impassive. 

Pollack slid the oversized print from the evidence envelope,
turning it so she could survey the image. "You've certainly
amassed an impressive body of data, Agent Scully." 

A slight ridge formed above her right eyebrow. 

The prosecutor gripped the railing with his left hand. "Now, you
and I could go back over this evidence in excruciating detail,
just as you presented it to the jury. But, that would be a waste
of the Court's time." He tapped the figure in the print. "Who is
this gentleman? The one in the black trenchcoat speaking with your
partner?" 

Scully glanced down. "That was Agent Mulder's former contact whom
we referred to by the code name 'Deep Throat'." 

A rustle ran through the courtroom. 

Pollack's eyes flicked across the jury before he continued. "Oh?" 

Stone called from his slouch at the table. "Object, Your Honor.
Immaterial." 

Anderson shook his head. "I'll grant the Prosecution the same room
for exploration I granted you, Mister Stone. It is from your
evidence, after all." 

Pollack's dark eyes had never left Scully's green-blue ones. "You
were telling the court about this gentleman, Agent Scully." 

She straightened. "He gave us information pertinent to the cases
we were investigating." 

Pollack leaned into the witness box. "Did you trust him, Agent
Scully?" 

Stone's chair scraped. "Your Honor, this is..."

Anderson's hand rose. "I agree, Mister Stone." He called over the
edge of the dais. "Make your point, Mister Pollack." 

Pollack rested the print on the wide rail. "He was the first one
to tell you and Agent Mulder of this organization you've so
carefully documented for us, wasn't he?" 

"Yes, he was." 

"Did you believe him?" 

Scully glanced down at her hands. "Not initially, Sir. The scope
of the organization seemed too wide to be feasible." 

Pollack's hands were linked behind his back. "What makes you say
that?" 

"At the time, we were led to believe that there was a much larger
organization at work, and I simply couldn't fathom the cost." 

Pollack spun. "The cost! Good point, Agent Scully. An organization
performing tests of this scope would cost millions, perhaps
billions of dollars. You would agree to that?" 

She nodded. "I would, Sir." 

He leaned into the witness box again. "So, you're asking us to
believe this of the US Government, *our* Federal Government, that
regularly runs deep in debt, and has been downsizing for what,
five years now? This US Government, is continuing to run a multi-
million dollar organization to save us from little green men?" The
titter that jumped back and forth across the room brought a
predatory grin to the flaccid Prosecutor. 

Scully shifted slightly. "I ask for no one's blind faith, Sir. I
have presented reliable evidence proving the same to be true." She
flicked her eyes to Stone, who head was tipped all the way back,
focusing on an imaginary spot on the ceiling. 

Pollack nodded. "Very well, Agent Scully. You're the expert." He
looked up at Anderson. "I have no further questions of this
witness, Your Honor." 

After a quick glance at Stone, the judge's gavel struck once. "The
witness may stand down." 

Scully slid into her seat beside her partner. "I'd love to know
what he has up his sleeve." 

Mulder's shrug of agreement was cut short as Pollack rose. 

The prosecutor held a thick packet of papers in his two hands. "If
it please the Court, the declassified documents from the former
East Germany have just been handed to me." 

His interest piqued, Anderson stretched forward. "Thank you,
Mister Pollack." He looked to the towering defense attorney, now
reaching over to receive them. "Mister Stone, if you'd like a
little time to examine them, the Court is willing to indulge you." 

Stone grinned up at the judge. "The Court's indulgence is always
appreciated, Your Honor. An hour to assess the materials?" 

Anderson gavelled the court into recess.

                            --o-0-o--

Scully passed a few of the sheets to her partner, who was standing
close in the confined space of the defense conference room. "This
is confusing, Mulder, some of these test results contradict the
genetic analysis Pendrell performed for us. The variations in the
sickling gene that were so distinctive are absent here." 

Stone, his arms crossed as he rested against the doorframe, looked
down at Saunders. "As if they were attempting to recreate or
fabricate data." 

The bearded African-American reached to take the papers. "I was
tested regularly, up until about five years ago. These results are
more recent than that. It's definitely someone else they've used." 

Mulder rested both hands on the table. "What about the
psychological test results? Do they tally with your past
evaluations?" 

Saunders skimmed through several paragraphs. "I don't see any
glaring errors, no. But the psychological results were consistent
from year to year, so any one would be sufficient to identify me." 

Scully was peering closely at one of the films. "These have been
altered." She reached into her briefcase for a small hand lens. 

The three men in the leaned closer. 

Rising suddenly, she placed the mylar sheet on one of the interior
windows, pointing to a blank space in one of the sequence columns.
"If you look carefully, Mulder, you can see." 

Holding the lens, he focused on the spot to the left of her
finger. "What am I supposed, ..., oh, right, the scratches." He
chewed his lower lip. "This is so obviously fake even I can tell."
He stared down at Saunders. "What does this mean? Don't they
care?" 

Saunders eyed him. "I'm as much in the dark on this one as you,
Mister Mulder." 

Stone reached for the doorknob. "I'm going forward with the
testimony as planned." 

Scully glanced at her partner before she approached Stone. "They
were hoping to distract us while they hid something else?"

Mulder shook his head. "But who is they? We have the Consortium,
these new groups abroad, the shape-shifters. Who is pulling the
strings now?" 

Saunders rose. "My old superior." He met each of their eyes in
turn. "He's finally shown his hand. He's obviously fabricated
evidence to turn one group against each other. If we walk out
there and show that fake data, all hell will break loose. Pollack
will accuse us of tampering, the four idiots will begin to suspect
each other, and the European organizations will look bad." 

Mulder stepped up to Stone. "We have to move fast, then. We'll
have to finish the defense presentation soon. He's not the sort of
man to deliberate once he's set a plan in motion." 

Nodding, Stone pushed the door open. "Then let's keep going. I'll
call in the witnesses from Italy now."

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Friday, December 5, 1997
2:27 pm

Saunders eased himself into the leather seat of the witness box.
He set his face into its customary mask, part rigid barrier, part
slitted hunting blind. After the sessions with the mock juries, he
knew he had to watch his tendency to frown and glare because it
came across as sneering. He schooled himself to patience while
Stone approached him. 

The towering attorney glanced at the two African-American men in
the jury, seated side by side today. One, a light-skinned Howard
University engineer, had been his choice, the other, a dark-
skinned, white-haired plasterer, had been Pollack's. He had
watched the engineer, as intellectually engaged as the history
teacher, be drawn in by Scully's descriptions of her evidence. The
plasterer's face was blank, unimpressed by the mounds of files. He
hoped the next few minutes would change that. 

Stone rested both hands on the railing. "There are two men who
were present at the time of the deaths of the victims, yourself
and Assistant Director Walter Skinner. He was, by his own
admission, unconscious at the time. Were you aware that your life
might be in danger?" 

Saunders glared at the long-faced attorney looking down at him,
but only for a brief instant. <I'm playing a role here.> "Yes. I
had recently been relocated because a bomb had been discovered in
the previous safe house." <Keep it short, sweet. Don't give the
Prosecution any hooks into their larger agenda.> 

Stone nodded. "What was your first indication that your guards
were not all they pretended to be?" 

Saunders forced himself to keep his jaw slack. "When they began
attempting to shoot in the door. I grabbed the only defensive
weapon available to me, the metal chair in my room." 

Pollack began scribbling notes to himself at Saunders' answer. 

Stone's hazel eyes flicked to his left, having heard the
scratching of pen on paper, but continued as if he had not
noticed. "What happened next?" 

"Failing to break through the door, they began shooting at the
wall just beyond the frame." 

Stone raised his voice a notch. "How did you know this was an
attack? You might have called out for help in your sleep. Had
these new guards been without keys, they would have possessed no
other way of reaching you." 

Saunders grasped his knees in an effort to retain his composure.
"First, I was not asleep. Second, if they had been concerned for
my well-being they would have been calling out questions. They
were not. They were only steadily attempting to demolish any
barrier between them and myself." 

Slowly, Stone led Saunders through a description of the attack,
concluding the analysis at the point where Walter Skinner appeared
by turning to the bailiff. "Would you bring in the television and
VCR please?" 

Nodding, the woman rolled a cart from one of the side rooms. On it
was a twenty-seven inch television and a VCR. 

Stone crossed to his bench to lift an envelope away. Holding up a
video cassette, he glanced at the jury. "This is a surveillance
tape from the hallway outside of the room of which the defendant.
I've advanced it to the time just prior to the attack on the
defendant." Looking to Pollack, he smiled. "It's our next exhibit,
so the People can have it checked for alterations or tampering." 

The prosecutor studied the grain of the wood in his table-top,
refusing to offer a silent response to the veiled criticism. 

Stone bent over to insert the black box into the VCR. "Ah
apologize for the somewhat poor quality of the images. None of the
folks involved in its production are of Oliver Stone's caliber."
He played the tape, first straight through, then using frequent
stops and freeze-frames to show how the murky, slightly out of
focus frames supported Saunders' testimony. Resting the remote on
the edge of the cart, he concluded. "I have no further questions,
Your Honor." 

Anderson looked to the Prosecutor. "Your witness, Mister Pollack." 

Resigned, the flaccid attorney pushed himself to his feet. "One
question, Your Honor." He walked to stand in front of Saunders.
"When the so-called attack began, you say you searched about for a
weapon. What self-defense training have you been given?" 

Stone called from his seat. "Objection. Addresses an issue not
introduced in direct examination." 

"Sustained." 

Pollack regarded Saunders solemnly. "Then I have nothing further,
Your Honor." He returned to his table. 

Anderson looked to Stone. "Mister Stone, you may call your next
witness." 

Both hands gripping the thick edge of oak, Stone pushed himself
out of his narrow chair. "If it please the court, that was our
last witness." 

Pollack stared, then covered his surprise by quickly shuffling the
white legal pads in front of him. 

Lifting both hands high so the bulky sleeves would clear the
folders before him, Anderson leaned towards the towering attorney.
"Do you wish more time to examine the evidence Mister Pollack
delivered to you earlier this week?" 

His back straight, Stone shook his long head. "No, Your Honor. The
defense rests, Sir." 

After emitting a short grunt of astonishment, Anderson turned back
to the Prosecutor. "Mister Pollack?" 

Pollack rose. "The People also rest, Your Honor." 

Anderson eyed the clock. "In that case, we'll resume after lunch."
He faced the jury members, who were beginning to collect
themselves for the break. "We'll recall the jury prior to closing
arguments, but after I discuss the instructions you'll be
receiving with opposing Councils." He broke into a genuine smile.
"Make sure Mrs. White orders you something good, all right?" His
dark eyes flicked to the bailiff, who nodded. 

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Friday, 4:27 pm

Anderson waited patiently while the jury members filed back to
their seats, then looked over at the prosecution table. "The
People may begin their closing arguments." 

Pollack rose, his hands clenching and relaxing. This was the part
of a case he enjoyed least, the long speech to the jury. He loved
the thrust and parry with witnesses and opposing council,
appealing as it did, to his combative nature. In many ways, it
reminded him of his favorite sport, soccer, with all the feinting
and misdirection intended to lure the opposition away from the net
long enough to score a point. He always felt like this was his
penalty shot, the one that rarely got past the goalie. 

As he paced in front of the jury booth, his opening fell out, the
words comfortable, familiar. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
the question before you in this case is really a simple one. Did
the defendant murder two Federal Law Enforcement officers in cold
blood? Yes, he did. The defendant himself has admitted to you, on
the stand, that he used first a chair, then a bed, and finally a
handgun, to assault the two agents. But, he says, it was self-
defense. Self-defense? Let us look at the evidence, as opposing
council has asked us to. The defendant has admitted to a witness,
while not under an imminent threat of bodily harm, that he has
killed men over trivial things: an assault to his dignity, for
instance. One of the witnesses, Agent Mulder, even saw him shoot a
man over what was it, airline tickets, a vial of blood from Agent
Scully?"

He spread his arms condescendingly. "Please. What we have here is
a man who takes the law into his own hands, deciding whom and over
what trivialities to kill. And what are his criteria, I ask you?
The defense has provided an answer so elaborate and convoluted I
couldn't even begin to refute it all. According to them, there is
a secret government organization, working with other secret
government organizations across the globe, who have secret
government laboratories all across the world. Now, if this highly
advanced network of organizations was working to eradicate
disease, we could understand that," he shrugged theatrically,
"couldn't we? Most of us really don't want to know what nasty
viruses lurk out there, waiting to be brought in on the next
cruise boat from South America, or with the next shipment of
minerals from Africa." He propped himself against the jury box.
"But that's not what these secret organizations are doing,
according to the defense. They're supposedly 'protecting' us from
'space invaders'." He pointed to the ceiling, wiggling his index
finger in a circle. "You know, those big-headed, three foot tall,
naked aliens who keep impregnating waitresses and bored store
clerks." 

Pollack pointed to Saunders. "Now, you're twelve intelligent,
reasonable people. This man has been in and out of mental
institutions all his life. Why, Agent Mulder put him in one, just
this past summer. The East Germans didn't want him as a double
agent *because* of his mental instability. Knowing what you know
about his mental condition, would you believe him if he told you
there were aliens living among us?" He tapped his chest. "I
certainly wouldn't. Let's you and I get right down to the essence
of this case, this alibi of self-defense. What evidence do we have
that it *was* self-defense? The word of a mental patient who
believes in little green men and has, by his own admission, killed
for no reason at all, and a dark, murky videotape with no sound.
I'd say that was no evidence at all, just words from a desperate
man looking to avoid a double murder conviction." 

He returned to his desk to retrieve photographs of the victims.
"Now, I could believe self-defense if the defendant had shown that
the victims possessed malice towards him. But opposing council has
presented none. Instead, the Prosecution has shown that he was in
danger of being exposed as a potential security risk by these two
men who were murdered. The Defense even admitted that the victims
didn't know that the defendant was the same man." He held two
photographs up for the jury. "These were two fine officers, men
with families. The actions of the defendant leaves three little
girls and two little boys without daddies, two wives without their
partners." He left both images in open view of the seated twelve.
"So, why, we ask, would they have attacked the defendant
unprovoked? Because, according to the defendant, they had been
brainwashed by the anti-flying saucer brigade. How do we know that
any of that is even plausible? Can we subject these two men to
psychological tests?" He slammed both fists onto the railing. "No!
They're dead. Did they exhibit any unusual behaviors prior to
their deaths? No!" 

Pollack pointed to Saunders again. "But the defendant *has* been
tested. You saw the results, you can look at them again. He's not
mentally stable. He'll kill for reasons of his own choosing, or,
truth be told, for no reason at all. By his own admission, he
killed these men. Thus, we ask you to find the defendant guilty of
second degree murder on both counts." He wagged the index finger.
"Both counts, ladies and gentlemen. Since, despite all the fairy
tales the defense has told you, we all know any little green men
the defendant saw were all," Pollack tapped his index finger
against his temple, "inside his head. Thank you." 

Anderson waited until Pollack had returned to his seat to nod to
Stone. 

The towering attorney glanced at his client before he stood, then
walked to stand in the same spot the prosecutor had just vacated.
"Well, ah must give my honorable colleague credit. He shore does
make Mister Saunders out to be a one-man loony-tunes vigilante
squad." He rubbed his hands together. "Little could you guess that
he worked his way through college and law school, makin' A's in
every class he took." He rested one elbow on the railing. "Now
folks, ah don't know about you, but makin' A's is a tough
business. Mighty tough." He rested one oversized hand on his
chest.  "Ah had to work like the devil, day in and day out, and
even mah humble self couldn't quite turn the trick. Darn near
impossible if you have little green men runnin' around inside your
head, ah should think." A whisper of a chuckle ran through the
courtroom.

Straightening, Stone rapped the railing once. "But, ah'm afeared
the story isn't as simple as the People want it to be. Not by a
longshot. And ah agree with Mistah Pollack, ah do. What we laid
out befor' you good people is a tall tale. A tall tale." Hooking
his thumbs into the pockets of his vest, he bounced slightly on
his toes. "Ah speak as a gentleman from that neck of the woods
where we enjoy a rip-roarin' good yarn." Dropping his hands to his
sides, he straightened. "But yarn this is not. Tall tales and
ghost stories don't usually leave behind DNA traces, misshapen
corpses, fingerprints, witnesses or images on videotape, now do
they?" Bounding to one of the evidence carts, he held up the
cylinder with Scully's implant. "Yarns a mile high don't put
computer chips in agent's backsides or wiretaps in nice old lady's
houses, now do they?" He placed the vial on the railing to begin
pacing. "Nor, as the People would have you believe, is Mister
Saunders responsible for having planted all this on his own. Why,
to do that, he'd have to be buzzin' hither and yon, burin' bodies
in Ohio, typin' files in West Virginia, fillin' in warehouses
right here in Pennsylvania. And, if he could do all that, we might
as well ask him to deliver ever'body's presents on Christmas Eve,
now mightn't we?" 

Stone carried the cylinder back to the evidence cart. "No, ladies
and gentlemen, with all these files and folders, ah'd have to say
my client is tellin' the truth." He held up one hand. "Now, ah
won't pretend he's a choirboy, he isn't. He has killed men in cold
blood. But not in this case. In this case, he was fightin' for his
life." He glanced over at the plasterer. "Are we to hold a man
accountable for murder simply because he defended himself
successfully when attacked? Are we? That's really the question
before us today. Not whether or not he's telling the truth about
the organization out there, we have evidence that he is." He
pointed at the carts. "Mounds of evidence. The question is not
whether he was attacked, he was. We played you the tape showing
two agents," he held up his hand, palm towards the jury,
"otherwise fine men, firing repeatedly and ruthlessly at a wall,
behind which cowered an unarmed man." He hooked his thumbs in his
vest again. "Now, ah don't know about you, ladies and gentlemen,
but if ah knew somebody wanted to blow me clear to the stars, and
there was someone shootin' at me, the last thing I would assume
was that they had my best interests at heart. If that's how you
see it, then you must vote to find my client not guilty. Thank
you." 

Anderson nodded to the prosecutor. "Your rebuttal, Mister
Pollack." 

The flaccid man rose, eyeing Saunders as he crossed the open
space. "My rebuttal remains the facts, members of the jury. Mister
Saunders is a known murderer with a history of mental problems.
He's killed for no reason at all. In this case, the defense has
cooked up a story of conspiracy and aliens so fantastic it defies
belief. If that story remains a question in your mind, than so
must his. If you think he believed this fairy tale and killed
because he *thought* he was under attack, then we're dealing with
someone criminally insane, not a responsible citizen we want on
the streets, regardless of his college grade point average. Either
way, the defendant is guilty of cold-blooded murder, and you
should vote to convict. Thank you." He returned to his table. 

Anderson opened one of the folders on the table. "Members of the
jury, before you withdraw to deliberate, here are your
instructions..." 

                            --o-0-o--

Allegheny View Motel
Friday, 8:17 pm 

Feeling relaxed after another swim and as lengthy a soak as she
could take in the narrow bathtub installed in her room, Scully
treated herself to a long slow yawn. She had curled up in one of
the lounge chairs in her partner's quarters, awaiting his return
from his run. When the bolt rattled in the latch, she looked up
from the translation of Thucydides that was her current study in
escapism. 

After the noise, she heard her partner muttering under his breath. 

Smiling, she slid to her feet to pull away the door. "They don't
work so well when they're wet." 

He waved the offending plastic helplessly. "So I'd noticed." As he
pushed back the hood of his gore-tex jacket, he eyed her
quizzically. "Not that I'm complaining, Doctor, but why are you
here and not across the hall?" 

She settled back into the cushions. "My shower drain clogged." 

A slow grin spread over his features. "Elvis?" 

She nodded. The proprietor's son, who doubled as the motel's
handyman, had regaled her twice in the first week on the virtues
of "The King", hoping she would comment on the, to him, obvious
similarities in his physique. 

Mulder smirked as the phrase, 'Love me tender, love me sweet',
amplified by the tile surround, floated from across the hall. "I
should warn him of the fate that befalls all your suitors, Agent
Scully." 

She tossed her head. "I'd like to see you do that, Agent Mulder." 

With a snort, he disappeared around the corner of the bathroom. 

Scully returned to her end notes, flipping pages from the text to
the references. After the sounds of the shower ceased, a buzz
emanated from the black phone on the nightstand. Crossing the
room, she called out, "OK for me to take this?" 

Mulder, his dark hair uncombed, his bathrobe loosely tied, stepped
into the room. "Yeah, sure. But if it's Patsy Cline, hand it
over." 

She lifted the hand piece to her ear. "If it's Patsy, I'm getting
a tape recorder." She listened. "Hum. OK. I'll tell him." She
looked up. "It's the bailiff. The jury's reached a verdict on both
counts." 

Mulder shook his head. "Jarred expected the deliberations to last
at least until tomorrow. This isn't good." 

She replaced the receiver, then sprinted across the room. "Maybe
the King is done in there." 

Mulder called after her. "Meet you out front?" 

She answered with a wave just before the door closed behind her. 

                            --o-0-o--

Federal Courthouse
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Friday, 9:11 pm

The jurors filed in slowly, several looking over at Saunders,
several staring straight ahead. The back rows of the audience were
empty, this announcement coming too quickly for the usual
spectators to reassemble. 

Anderson waited until the twelve men and women were seated. "Have
you reached a verdict?" 

Just as Stone had hoped, the white-haired retired history teacher
rose. "We have, Your Honor." 

Anderson licked his lips. "Then would you please pass the verdict
to the bailiff?" 

The woman in blue took two slips of paper from her, handing them
up to the judge. 

After reading the decision, Anderson looked over the jury. "Were
these verdicts reached after due deliberation and consideration by
all the assembled members present?" 

The fore woman held the rail. "They were, Your Honor."

The judge nodded. "And is that the consensus of every one of you?" 

"It is, Your Honor." The eleven chanted in response. 

Anderson swiveled to face Stone and Saunders. "Will the defendant
please rise?" A pause, filled with scraping of chair legs and
shuffling of feet. "Then hear the verdict of this court. In the
first count of Murder in the Second Degree, what is your decision,
Madame Foreman?" 

She looked at the bearded African-American. "We the members of the
jury, find Tyrell Lewis Saunders not guilty of murder in the
second degree." 

After slight outbursts of surprise, Anderson prompted a second
time. "In the second count of Murder in the Second Degree, what is
your decision, Madame Foreman?" 

"We, the members of the jury, find Tyrell Lewis Saunders not
guilty of murder in the second degree." 

Anderson gavelled the courtroom into silence. "Then, Mister
Saunders, you are free to go." 

A glimmer of relief shown from the dark face, then Saunders turned
to shake Stone's hand. "Thank you." 

Beaming down at his client, Stone clapped him on the shoulder.
"Glad to have this charade over." 

Saunders turned to Mulder and Scully. "Thank you." He extended his
hand to each in turn. 

Mulder nodded. "We can get back to business." 

Scully grasped his fingers lightly, having learned, not to her
surprise, that their former contact had a grip of iron. "At least
the evidence is where it can't be refuted or covered up." 

Stone nodded. "And thousands of law school students will have to
read it in their civil rights law classes." He turned to Mulder.
"I didn't have the chance to tell you, mah friend, but I've
accepted a faculty position at NC State." He broke into an even
broader grin. "Seems those folks who have argued both sides of the
aisle are rare as a ivory-billed woodpecker. The final offer came
through this evening. None of this will get buried, not if I have
any say over the matter." 

Now alone with the four, Pollack approached them, hand extended.
"You argued a good case, Jarred. Congratulations." He nodded to
Saunders, then faced the double doors in the rear. "Now who could
this be?" 

Saunders gazed back over Scully's red hair. "Something tells me we
may have celebrated prematurely." 

The uniformed figure approaching carried a narrow black folder and
a no-nonsense attitude. Looking the group over quickly, he stood
in front of the defense table. "Tyrell Lewis Saunders?" 

The bearded African-American eyed the marshall's waist for a
weapon. "Yes." Resignation weighed his voice down heavily. 

The balding officer extended the black folder. "I'm here to place
you under arrest on the charge of two counts of First Degree
Murder. You have the right to remain..." 

Mulder and Scully waited in stunned silence. 

Saunders held the papers out for Stone. 

After he took them, he unfolded them to scan the contents. Closing
his eyes, he passed the packet to Scully.

As her eyes focused on the seal at the top of the form, she shook
her head. The image on the top showed not a federal eagle, but a
standing helmeted woman, one hand on a spear, one foot on a supine
man. "Virginia state charges." Her shoulders slumped. "We get to
do this all over again." 

A predatory gleam flashed from Pollack's eyes, then faded, as he
realized that although the pursuit would continue, his part was
over.

Stone walked alongside his client, shortening his stride, as he
had learned early in his teenaged years, to accommodate the two
men with him as they left.

                            --o-0-o--

                     End - Zurvan - Black and White