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

"Archaea" by Mary Ruth Keller 

E-mail: mrkeller@eclipse.net

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Part IV - Pikaia gracilens (Disclaimed in Part I)

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

Will your grace command me any service to the 
world's end? I will go on the slightest errand now
to the Antipodes that you can devise to send me on;
I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest 
inch of Asia; bring you the length of Prester John's 
foot; fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard; 
do you any embassage to the Pigmies; rather than 
hold three word's conference with this harpy. You 
have no employment for me?

                       Much Ado About Nothing

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

Rest Retreat
New Jersey
Sunday, July 27, 1997 
9:47 pm

Maria Alvarez patted the shoulder of the still figure under the
stiff, starched muslin. "I don't know who you are, but you meant
something to Fox..." She leaned over the body. <We're not equipped
here to provide long-term care for the comatose. If he doesn't
wake up soon...> 

The lips were moving, eliciting a gasp from the black-haired
doctor, who glanced up at the heart-rate monitor to see that his
vital signs were beginning to return to normal. 

"Mulder..." 

It was a faint croak, but Maria found her own pulse quickening.
"Sir? Can you hear me, Sir?" 

The face turned towards her, focusing into the penetrating gaze
Mulder had described to Maria almost three years earlier. "Who are
you?" 

The black-haired woman was abashed. "My name is Doctor Maria
Alvarez, and this is a rest home in New Jersey, Sir. You've been
here for nearly a week, in a coma-like state. Perhaps I should ask
you the same question. Who are you?" 

X pushed himself off the mattress, surprised at his strength. "Who
I am is not important." He slid off the bed, then collapsed into a
heap of shaking arms and legs. 

Activating the call button, Maria, her professional demeanor
recovered, was demanding assistance. "Lewis, I need you in room
320, stat!" 

X nodded at the young man who approached, all muscles and long
blond hair. 

Lewis hooked his arms under X's. "Up you go, Sir." 

X recognized the orderly, without understanding how or why, and
knew he was no threat to him. In fact, he felt distinctly
comfortable here, so he took a few minutes for a mental inventory.

The woman doctor roused him with a gentle shake. "Sir, you really
need to take it slowly, at first, your muscles have been inactive
for almost a week now." 

X shook his head. "Mulder brought me here?" 

Maria shrugged. "More or less. The Gunmen did." 

X grimaced. <I was in the care of those clowns.> "Very well. Where
is Mulder now? I need to speak with him." 

Maria whispered to Lewis, who returned with a cel phone, holding
it out for X to accept. Both numbers, known by X almost better
than his own, yielded only electronic replies. Wordlessly, he
returned the unit to the orderly, who, at Dr. Alvarez' nod, left
them alone. 

Maria pulled a chair over to the bed and sat. "I'll answer any and
all of your questions, to the best of my ability, but only if you
rest here through the night. Fox warned me you would demand
answers, without offering any of your own, willingly. Just tell me
this, how much do you know about the sickling gene you carry?" 

X was unable to keep the surprise off his face. "Sickling gene?
But my family..." 

Maria shifted to the end of the mattress. "Yes, it's rather
unique, I'm afraid. Did you even know you had it?" 

X shook his head. "No one in my family has come down with Anemia,
as far as I know." 

She patted his shoulder. "Well, that's because no one in your
family has married someone else who carries the gene as well, or
even if they did, none of their offspring has lost the genetic
roulette involved."

"Yes. Does anyone other than Mulder or the Gunmen know where I am?
Have I had any visitors? Young men in their thirties, or a
brunette woman?" 

Maria set her clipboard on the beside table, then crossed her
arms. "Besides Scully?" 

Impatient, X waved her words away. 

"Well, there was something strange that happened to me. Listen to
this..." She quickly recounted her brief unconsciousness and the
preliminary results of the X-Files agents' investigations. "Scully
gave me a quick update before they left for the West Coast. They
think it was some kind of shape-shifting alien." She shrugged.
"Fox and his crazy ideas. Anyway, they're off investigating some
organism they've found out about." 

<She doesn't need to know.> X grunted, "Mulder and his crusades.
Very well. How soon can I check out?" 

Her jaw firm, Maria shook her head. "You can barely walk, let
alone leave. It's late, so we'll see how you are in the morning,
Sir." She stood, terminating the debate. "You're just like Fox,
always pushing yourself too hard." She yanked the clipboard off
the table, then turned back at the door. "I'm appointing Lewis to
watch over you. You're in no danger here, but you do need to rest.
I'll see to it that the last week's worth of major newspapers are
brought to you from our reading room, but that's about all the
interaction with the outside world I feel you should have right
now." 

X waved her off, already deep in thought, weighing the possible
complications this coma of his had generated in his plans. 

                            --o-0-o-- 

Customs Desk
Dulles International Airport
Outside Reston, Virginia
Sunday, 11:03 pm

"Caroline! Max! Over here!" Margaret Scully waved at two white
heads she spotted in the back of the customs line. 

Caroline Lowenberg waved back. "Margaret! We'll be right out." 

Although Margaret was prepared to step through to them, she was
stopped by a uniformed Security Officer. 

The freckled employee blocked her path. "Wait, Ma'am. Your friends
will be out in a minute, just be patient." 

Nodding, the dark-haired woman, her brown shot through with grey,
stepped back. 

After what seemed like an eternity of shuffling and pacing, Max
and Caroline reached the inspecting station. There, a stout woman
in blue took their passports and claims papers, subjected them to
a perfunctory search of their luggage, and waved the pair through
with an emotionless 'Welcome back to the US'. 

Caroline embraced Margaret eagerly. "It's so good to see you." The
women held each other, Max stepping away to give them this moment. 

Margaret nodded. "It seems we only have this time when there's
trouble, Caroline. But, I should tell you, Fox is doing well. He
hasn't disappeared on Dana - " 

The white-haired woman smiled. "On one of his UFO hunts - " 

Margaret's eyes sparkled in agreement. "In ages. When I made a
stop in DC last month, I met the new agents working with them. An
older fellow, and a woman with a doctorate in Astronomy, of all
things. Fox has even put on a few ounces of weight." She held up
her hand, her thumb and forefinger held just a fraction of an inch
apart. "But only a few. I use my Mom gauge whenever he gives me
one of those good hugs you taught him." 

Caroline laughed. "I wish I could claim responsibility for those,
dear. Poor boy, he never had many when he was young." Caroline
linked her arm through Margaret's, and they headed out of the
carpeted Customs alcove, into the main walkway, where Max was
waiting. "Dana is doing well? Other than..." 

Nodding, Margaret bit her lip, clinging to the woman twenty years
her senior, with a past that fell far outside anything Maggie
O'Shea could have imagined when they first met. "What am I going
to do about that? Max." 

He engulfed the petite woman in his arms, rubbing her back gently.
"Good to see you again, Margaret." 

The women fell in step on either side of him, slowing so he could
push their luggage, which was now stacked on a wire handcart. 

Caroline rubbed her husband's waist before leaning around to speak
to Margaret. "I don't know. But when we settle somewhere out of
the way, we can compare what your husband had to what we've
brought." She pointed to one of the black leather bags. 

Margaret frowned. "You think you might have something?" 

Max looked down at her. "Yes. I had some old friends do some
digging for me, who came up with some very interesting goings-on
in the Firm. Then, I called in some old war favors, and I think
there's a picture beginning to form in my mind." He glanced
around. "But more in the car, Margaret. It's too open here.
Caroline?" 

Caroline Lowenberg lifted her cloisonne compact from her purse,
using it to survey the travelers on the causeway behind her. "I
see, Max. We do have company." 

Margaret gasped. 

Caroline shook her head. "Don't look now, Margaret, dear, but
there are two men in Security uniforms, armed, trailing along
about fifty feet behind us." She met her husband's eye. "You
noticed them while we were waiting for our  customs check?" 

The tall man chuckled. "One day, they *will* have to learn how not
to stick out like sore thumbs, but I think they've watched too
many old American spy films." 

Margaret moved a little closer to him. "I don't see how you, or
Fox and Dana, put up with living like this. You can't even walk
through an airport..." When he turned towards the rental agencies,
Margaret Scully began to protest. "But I have my car..." 

Caroline shook her head. "That you probably left unlocked?" 

Chastened, Margaret unclipped the top of her oversized handbag,
affording her friends a glimpse of the leather-bound diary within.
"But I've kept this with me..." 

Caroline waved one hand in an acknowledging gesture, attempting to
smile gently at the anxious Margaret. "It wouldn't have mattered
anyway. They could have planted what they needed even with the
doors locked, and, if they were clever, without leaving a scratch
behind." 

Max stepped up to the end of the line by the Green Avis booth, set
the cart upright, then turned to grasp Margaret's shoulder. "Don't
worry. They don't know what you have because you don't, either.
That alone has kept you safe, my dear." 

She looked at the two lined faces. "Do you think this is connected
with the organization that Fox and Dana are always whispering
about?" 

Caroline stepped close to her. "Perhaps. But there is more
intrigue left over from the Second World War than we will ever be
able to successfully untangle." Her reassuring smile reminded
Margaret of her son's. "Just relax, dear. We're here now." 

The dark-haired woman nodded, not at all prepared to follow her
friend's advice. 

                            --o-0-o--

Dark Apartment
Washington, DC
Monday, July 28, 1997
2:04 am 

The alien who had been passing himself off as Luther blocked
Mulder's path. "He'll be waiting, probably armed." 

The agent shrugged. "So? He already knows we're out here. Open it
now, or I'll redecorate the hallway, free of charge." 

Scully cocked an eyebrow at her partner. "Mulder, we don't need to
barge in constant..." 

The door swung inwards of its own accord, the occupant presenting
the appearance of welcoming them. "Well, Mister Mulder, not
listening to Agent Scully, as usual, I see." The old man waved at
their SIGs. "And, as always, you come, with warm and generous
intentions towards me." 

Scully, all bristling resolve, stepped in first, then Mulder
shoved Luther in ahead of him, ignoring the nod the Smoking Man
sent his partner as a mocking greeting. 

The dark-haired agent muttered in reply, "Yeah, right. I know
where I'd like to see you reside." 

Lifting free a Morley, the old man lit the end with a match,
folding the cover back in place before throwing the matchbook on
the table. 

Mulder recognized the distinctive logo of a local Tex-Mex
restaurant, a stereotypical Mexican and his burro, lounging
against the porch, all green and red. He had taken Melissa Scully
there on a single date that had been an ill-fated venture, at
best. He had spent that dinner at Los Amigos listening to his
partner's blonde sister babble about Karmic convergence and the
Millennium. The time had passed for him with silent nods and
wishes that it were Dana Scully there instead, just so they could
hash over the data he had downloaded from MUFON on mutant frogs in
Minnesota. After turning down an invitation to experience 'sonic
mental awakening' at her apartment, he had dropped her off,
silently vowing never to date relatives of co-workers again. 

The Smoker's words brought Mulder back to the present. "My. Testy
as ever. You wanted to tell me something, Luther?" 

Knowing his fate was sealed, the alien shook his head. 

The auburn-haired woman stepped forward. "We've discovered that
our shape-shifting visitors each have a unique - " 

The old man sighed. "Ultraviolet signature. Indeed. I wondered
when you techno-kids would discover this little fact." 

The man they knew as Luther began shrinking before their eyes,
melting, condensing almost, into a sea scallop, encased in a
tightly-closed shell. 

The old man lifted the bivalve off his carpet. "I wonder why he
waited so long to do that?" He tossed the mollusk to Scully.
"Amazing how he manages to weigh just exactly what you would
expect a little animal like that to, isn't it? And no convenient
spot to poke him with your horse needle." 

Scully handed the alien off to Mulder, who was blinking in
surprise. She cocked an eyebrow at the Smoking Man. "He wanted us
to meet you. Did you know about his true nature?" 

The old man settled in his recliner. "I suspected. Now I know. So,
why are you here?" 

Mulder stepped over to him, assuming a posture that brought back
painful memories for them both. "Why can't we reach Agent Scully's
Mother?" 

The old spy laughed. "How should I know? Furthermore, if you were
half as clever as you thought you were, you wouldn't have walked
off and left your little discovery all unprotected. Did you check
out your old friend, Aurora, before you just dropped in after all
those years?" He passed Mulder a slip of newsprint. 

Reading the words, Mulder went pale, then handed the sheet off to
Scully. 

She faced her partner. "Mulder, if Aurora Luminens died in 1995,
then who was that we met in Bellingham?" 

The old man took a long drag. "Who indeed? Perhaps it was just the
creatures you were attempting to safeguard your little scientific
wonder from, Mister Mulder." 

Scully nodded. "These intrigues are just circles within circles,
aren't they?" 

The old man grimaced, then blew out a swirling stream of smoke.
"Very quick, Agent Scully. But, not quick enough, I'm afraid." He
rose, stepping away from Mulder, towards her. As he passed the
tall Agent, he took the scallop from his long hand, then casually
opened the window to toss it to the street below. 

Mulder shoved him roughly aside. 

It was only Scully's hand on his collar that stopped him from
leaping through the second floor window to retrieve the alien.
"Mulder! Let it go!" 

They watched as the shell expanded back to the man they had
shepherded from one coast to the other, then run off. 

The tall agent retreated, glaring at his partner. "Yeah. It's not
like I have an inkling where he's off to." He bore down on the old
spy. "The Samanthas weren't all killed, were they? You took them
from the Bounty Hunter, didn't you?" 

The Smoking Man resumed his seat. "Or some of them never appeared
to you in the first place. Did you ever stop to think of that?" He
stepped up to Mulder. "Sometimes, the Organization wasn't a total
loss, Mister Mulder. Before our junior members took their rash
actions, we were on the verge of hauling in the remainder of the
Colony, after they so kindly made themselves known to you." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "You were going to make a deal with them
to save your own skin, weren't you?" 

The old man snorted a mirthless laugh. "How can you deal when you
have nothing to deal with, as I once so carefully reminded your
Assistant Director Skinner?" He began pacing in front of them.
"Let us, for the purposes of argument, assume that you are correct
in your postulate of an alien invasion, hum?" 

The agents glanced at each other. 

Scully crossed her arms. "So, you admit - " 

He waved them to silence. "I admit nothing. Let us assume you two
have somehow managed to weave your way through a carefully
constructed maze of lies and obfuscation, to arrive at one of your
shiny Truths, Mister Mulder. The aliens are coming, their little
battleships primed and ready." Forgotten, the Morley burned down
in his hand. "What do we of Earth say to them: Welcome, generous
benefactors, who have traversed interstellar distances to reach
our little ball of mud. Give us your technology and knowledge. In
exchange we offer you..." He waited. 

All nervous energy, Mulder grunted, "Nothing. We can offer them
nothing. If they find us, we should just bend over and kiss our
posteriors goodbye." 

The old man regarded him. "You're not just a pretty face after
all, Mister Mulder. That's exactly what we can offer them." 

Mulder stepped up to him. "But Deep Throat mentioned crashed
vehicles, killing aliens. Surely you could have studied the
hardware, learned to assimilate it with ours." 

The old man rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he did. But let me present
you this scenario. Say a portable radio falls from a helicopter
into the hands of a stone-age warrior, living in some remote
jungle in Java. This primitive turns a dial and..." He spread his
hands. "Voila! Sounds come from the magic box. Now, he shows this
great mystery to the rest of the tribe..." 

Scully stepped forward. "They all listen until the batteries fail,
at which time, they may disassemble the magic box, and declare it
dead. Then, they throw it into the water because they neither
understand the concept of changing batteries, nor have an inkling
as to how to get any if they do." 

The old man stubbed his cigarette out. "And?" 

Turning to her partner, Scully sighed. "Mulder, you always remind
me that alien technology would seem like Black Magic to us..." 

The tall man ran both hands through his hair. "But surely after
fifty years..." 

The spy laughed. "Fifty years? A half century is nothing. Five
decades, no, nine, since a Swiss Jew sat in a little cafe and
worked out the relationships between space and time. We've not
figured out even the theory of super-light speed travel." He
regarded them seriously. "So, you see our problem, how there is no
real option of cooperation, of, ... a deal, ... if, as you say,
there is an invasion en route." He cocked an eyebrow. "If, ..., as
you say." He crossed his arms, letting his words sink in. "On the
other hand, Mister Mulder, they may already be here, slowly
modifying our genetic structure to accommodate theirs, using
sequences collected from random, hapless individuals across the
planet..." 

Enraged, Scully stalked up to him, jabbing her finger in the spy's
chest. "But the recent discoveries from the mitochondrial DNA
eliminate any such possibility!" 

Grimacing, the old man lit another Morley, this time with his
steel lighter. "Perhaps. But the data are from such a small sample
of the human population." He shrugged. "So could it be that those
were the lucky ones? Or those pre-selected for examination?" 

Mulder grabbed her arm. "Scully, he can spin riddles with words to
keep us here all night. There are shape-shifting aliens out there,
probably three. You saw, Scully, and so did I. Let's go." On their
way out the door, Mulder dropped the matchbook in his pocket. 

The old man observed, nodding to himself. <Not so stupid, after
all.>

                            --o-0-o-- 

Half punch-drunk from sleeplessness, Mulder, while attempting to
open the door of his Toyota for his partner, locked it instead. 

She sighed. "Mulder, this is too much. We need to stop, right now.
We'll make some stupid mistake and end up hurting ourselves." 

Suddenly enraged, he spun around. "Scully, half our team is out
there in the field, and you want to rest? They're on the trail of
the same alien that nearly killed me. We can't stop." 

She crossed her arms. "If we don't, we'll crash headfirst into a
semi on the way to meet them! We've both not really slept since
Tuesday, when all this started. Have you thought whether to even
call them?" 

He leaned against the fender, whipped out his cel phone, then
punched down on the third speed dial button. After six rings, his
sole greeting consisted of a sleepy cough. "Langly?" 

"Mulder? You still awake?" 

"You heard from Byers yet?" 

"Yeah. He and the others tracked your visitor to a warehouse in
Delaware. He's still there, and they're staking it out in shifts.
Frohike's on his way up to meet them. What's happened on your
end?" 

"Ours took a little plunge, so he's out there, somewhere." 

Langly chuckled. "Chill, G-man. You're making no sense." 

As the Agent lifted his notepad from his jacket pocket, he glanced
at Scully. "Yeah, so I've been told. You have the address for
where they're staying? Right. Thanks." He tore off the sheet, then
passed the numbers to his partner. "When we get there, Scully,
then we'll take a nap, all right? As for right now, all I need is
a pit stop at the nearest Seven-Eleven." 

Resigned, she climbed into the Toyota, barely having the time to
latch the door before Mulder threw the car in reverse and backed
out. 

                            --o-0-o--

Warehouse
Dover, Delaware
Monday, 5:32 am

Nichols and Byers glanced at each other when they heard a car roll
to a stop outside. The Agent slid his gun out of his holster, then
waved the bearded man towards Frohike, who had finally, from his
perch near the roof, noticed that something was up. The little man
was disconnecting himself from the headphones and tape recorder
before descending the catwalk stairs to join them. Byers silenced
him with a shake of his head, pointing over his shoulder at the
older agent, crouched in the shadows by the hinges of the door.
The three watched the latch slide, then were momentarily blinded
by the exterior light that cast two suited figures into a single
black silhouette. 

Frohike was the first to approach them. "Mulder?" 

After the tall form receded, Scully appeared. "Frohike? Langly
told us you were on your way. How did you beat us here?" 

Holstering his Smith and Wesson, Nichols stepped out of the
shadows and up to his colleagues. "Hey."

The motion brought Mulder's attention to him. "Where's Rosen?" 

The older agent sighed, reading the lines in both their faces,
realizing again that the legends of Spooky Mulder's dogged stamina
were no exaggeration. <Time to pull rank, Phil.> "She's catching
some rest at a little motor lodge close by. We three split the
surveillance duty on the alien during the flight, and she was the
lucky one who got to stay awake the whole way home. After we
followed Grandma Moses into the building across the street and
your friend arrived, I sent her back for some downtime." He stared
pointedly at the woman beside Mulder. "You both look like you
could use some rest yourself." 

Mulder glanced down at Scully. "You called ahead for back-up,
right?" 

She pursed her lips, but focused on the bespectacled Gunman. "What
have you seen?" 

Delighted with this opportunity to claim her attention, Frohike
took her hand, leading her up to his surveillance nest. Mulder and
Byers exchanged grins as they followed, Nichols behind them all. 

The warehouse was older, more run-down than the expansive building
where Scully and the other women had been kept. The dirt floor,
overlaid with oil-soaked wooden blocks, stretched away before
them, absorbing the light that filtered in through shattered,
blackened windows. Too narrow a space for a row of interior
support pillars, it was ringed with steel mesh balconies, running
on three sides of the structure instead. 

The round-faced Gunman led Scully and the others up a flexing
metal stairway, the sole access to the balconies, its handrail
corroded away in places. "Observed and over-heard, my exquisite
jewel." 

Lifting her hand away, Scully grasped the rough concrete brick
wall as they climbed, checking down the narrow, sagging corridor
as she approached a bank of video monitors. After spending so many
late hours at their office in Alexandria, she barely noticed that
the displays were strewn across a folding table, surrounding the
Gunmen's Pentium like eager pupils around their favorite teacher.
"Your new eavesdropping sensors are working." 

Byers was at her elbow. "This is the prototype." He patted the
large NEC monitor in the center. "It takes the idea of sound
vibrating window glass one step farther than the CIA." He
exchanged a meaningful glance with Frohike. "But what we're
picking up doesn't make any sense." He held out the headphones. 

Scully slipped them over her ears, then frowned as she attempted
to decipher the clicks and whistles she heard. 

Leaning over his partner, Mulder lightly grasped the back of her
neck, stilling her long enough to lift the earphones away. 

Marshaling a teasing protest, Scully turned, but kept silent. She
saw he was listening intently, the headband set back on his
shoulders. It was a habit left over from his time on wiretap
detail when the X-Files were closed down. 

Mulder frowned at the bearded Gunman. "What is this? Are your
sensors working, guys, or have you spent one too many nights
recreating the eruption of Thera?" 

Byers' hand waggled. "Wait until you see the video." He gestured
to the monitors, each offering a different angle on the activities
underway across the street. 

The range of views elicited a gasp from Scully. "How did you get
all these in place so fast?" 

Frohike grinned. "Target practice. I've taken up archery, but
that's all I'll tell you." He leaned towards her. "Later, when we
have a private moment..." 

The earpieces now resting on his throat, Mulder was focused on the
screen, so he stepped between his partner and Frohike to study the
images more closely. "I don't see anything that looks remotely
like the Bounty Hunter, just these two women in lab coats and all
the stacks of electronics." 

Nichols sighed. "Just watch and listen, boss." He pointed to the
NEC, where the audio stream was displayed real time. 

Relieving himself of the earphones and stepping back to offer the
diminutive woman a clear view, Mulder positioned himself on
Scully's right side, blocking Frohike from her. 

There were five monitors set up, each displaying the same scene
from a slightly different vantage point. Within a circle of
flashing lights, they watched as a transparent shape the women
flanked coalesced into a tall pink flamingo. The color faded, the
neck of the bird stretching, thickening and darkening until it was
a young oak tree, its bare roots fanned in a circle around it on
the concrete floor. Finally, the alien shrank, rounding in the
form of a red tabby cat. 

Mulder rubbed his eyes. "So, we have to watch out for killer
kitties, now?" 

Grinning, Frohike tapped the nearest screen. "They've been testing
his morphing capabilities since he arrived, like they're trying to
work out an optimum form or something. See those?" His fingertip
was resting in the center of an image of a haphazard pile of metal
boxes. "They take a unit off the stack, run it, then make more
notes, all the time clicking away to each other. It's like they
know they've been detected, and they're attempting to figure out
how to beat someone's system. Mulder?" 

Doubled over until his nose was barely a fraction of an inch from
one of the screens, the tall man was motionless. "It's the
Samanthas, Scully. You were right all along." He ran his hand
through his hair. "A few survived, so they've set up shop again."
He began pacing on the metal walkway. 

The auburn-haired woman blocked his path. "Whose system, Mulder?
Not ours." 

Frohike pulled himself onto the table, crossing his legs at the
ankles as they swung beneath him. "It's you buddies on the Dark
Side, my friend." 

The agents faced him as he continued, "The few times we wormed our
way into their systems, their E-mails are all atwitter over the
new surveillance technology they've developed. It's my guess that
their handiwork is what you're seeing in the warehouse, the
results of a late-night raid." 

Scully stepped over to him. "With the video sensors affixed to the
glass, there's no way we could tell if they are somehow succeeding
in eliminating their UV signature, is there?" 

Byers grinned. "Your Doctor Dryan is one piece of work. See that
blob in the broken window across from us?" 

Mulder leaned out, then nodded. "So?" 

Frohike chuckled. "One of the cameras we ordered has sensitivity
into part of the UV band, so your girl shinnied up the wall to
clip it to the frame." 

Nichols nodded. "I'm just not as limber as I used to be, Mulder,
but she was like a squirrel, picking her way up." 

Byers took the explanation over from the agent. "That image is
responding to the UV signatures." He pointed to one monitor,
resting at an angle on top of two others. "See?" 

Scully settled on the stool in front of the table. "Nothing they
do changes what happens on the monitor. Good." She began rubbing
the back of her neck. "We needed to know that." 

Nichols took her sagging shoulders as his cue, stepping forward to
rest one hand on Mulder's arm. "Boss, you both had to watch your
quarry constantly, didn't you?" 

Finally relieved of his fears, Mulder nodded. 

Nichols pressed the point. "Ros has been catching a few since ten
last night. She'll be expecting a wake-up call soon, so between
her and the little guy there, we'll have two fresh faces to keep a
watch. Why don't you and Scully take these and sack out for a
while?" He dropped two motel room keys on the table, then stepped
back, giving the younger agent the chance to decide for himself. 

From her seat, Scully was regarding him with unabashed gratitude,
then stood by her partner. When his shoulders dropped and he
collected the keys, she touched his arm, leading him back down the
stairs and out the door. 

Nichols watched them until they had disappeared through the door,
then sighed. "They've been on their own too long. Too exposed,
with no back-up." 

Frohike was nodding, his face as long as theirs. "It was only him,
then she was taken." He turned to his recorder, edging up the
treble to catch the warbles he now heard.

                            --o-0-o--

Rest Retreat
New Jersey
Monday, 8:16 am

Maria Alvarez studied the bent head of the man in the Reading
Room, astonished at his rapid recovery. It happened sometimes with
these coma patients, but the mysterious man Fox Mulder had brought
her was probably going to end up as one of her friend's X-Files.
She pushed through the door, clearing her throat so as not to
alarm him when she approached. 

As if he was preparing for an attack, he rose from the overstuffed
armchair, identical to the dozen or so others scattered in small
clumps around the bright solarium.

Smiling, she held up her hand. "I was worried about you. You
weren't in your room." 

He bowed slightly, waiting for her to settle on the divan facing
his seat. "I am here, as you can see. When will you finish with
your testing?" 

Resting her elbows on her knees, she leaned forward. "I'm just
waiting for the bloodwork to come back from the Lab. Actually, I
had to call our technician last night for him to finish these
before he left on vacation with his family." She leaned back. "We
have many important personages come through here, Sir, so he's
used to the rush." 

X had been staring out the window as she answered him. "Was one of
them Mulder?" he now queried.

She sighed. "You know I can't break doctor-patient
confidentiality." 

His face whipped around, fixing her in his glare. "There is nearly
a week of his life unaccounted for during his partner's
disappearance, after the incident in Los Angeles." 

She rose. "Since you know so much about him, I shouldn't have to
answer that. Who made you his caretaker, anyway?" 

X stood, bringing himself into her personal space. "I've been his
keeper for quite some time now. Where was he going when he left
here? Can you tell me that, or is it more *confidential* than you
can say?" When she reached for his shoulder, he gripped her
fingers, firmly, however not in his full bone-breaking crush.
"Don't touch me. You may regret it." He released her hand with a
sigh. "Look, let me thank you for your efforts on my behalf. I can
pay for my room and board, if that's a problem. But I need to be
on my way as soon as possible." Attempting to diffuse the tension,
he sat, gesturing for her to copy his actions. 

Maria shook her head. "Your bill is not at issue here. Mulder
already paid for an indefinite stay on your part. He warned me
that you might be in danger, and you were." She rubbed her neck
under the gold barrette. "As I mentioned when you first woke up, I
was attacked while Mulder and Scully were here. They headed back
to DC with some surveillance videotapes. I think they were taking
them to the Gunmen, if you have to know." A curt nod, so she
stood. "Let me go check on your tests." Since there was no
response, she left. 

X turned his attentions back to the newspaper he had let slip to
the floor before she entered. As he bent to retrieve the pages,
his eye fell on a small side-bar item, and he scanned it quickly.
"Strange case of disintegrating C-notes" <Ah, it would be them.>
He set the Seattle Times on the divan, standing and staring out
into the grounds. 

<If one were a shape-shifting alien and needed to travel, he would
use cash. That cash would be easy to manufacture, but likely as
not, it wouldn't exist for long once detached from the shape-
shifter's mass.> He grunted to himself. <That explained a great
deal.> He turned over options, pacing and pulling absently at the
terrycloth robe the orderly <Lewis?> had given him. From previous
investigations, he knew the enemy they all faced now, knew what he
needed to tell Mulder, how he needed to play the game with the new
leaders of the Consortium. <If only I had clothes so I could leave
here...> He stared at the door, willing it to open, so that
meddling black-haired doctor would return, declare him as fit as
he felt, and release him.

                            --o-0-o--

Morten's Sleepytime Hotel
Dover, Delaware
Monday, 9:03 am 

At the insistent buzz from her cel phone, Dana Scully pulled the
thick covers off her head. <Bless Nichols.> When he had so gently
pulled rank on Mulder to send them off for the rest they both
desperately needed, the aches from their nonstop week had crashed
into her. If her partner hadn't backed down when he did, she
hadn't known whether she would have to shoot him again, or cuff
Mulder to her, so he would come, semi-willingly, with her. <But,
there was that annoying contraption, bleating like a lost sheep.
Or a Fox that had gone to ground, only to find its hole filled
in?> 

"Scully." 

"Dana?" 

"Maria?" Now she shoved the covers away. "What happened?" 

A laugh. "I have good news, for once. But Mulder's not answering." 

Tugging her oversized T-shirt down over her sweat-shorts, Scully
was on her feet. "I'll check, Maria." <If he took off in his
condition, in spite of all our new responsibilities, I'll...> The
petite woman slid the pocket door between the rooms into the wall. 

For once, Mulder's body had won the fight with his turbo-charged
mind, and he was flopped, face down, onto the bedspread. 

She padded over, pressing the battery check on his cel phone.
"He's here, Maria, as zoned as I've ever seen him. He left the
unit powered on, so the battery's drained out too. Hang on."
Bending over the narrow double bed, she shook the wrist closest to
her, watched him mumble, then creep up the mattress towards the
pillows, falling forward against the thin foam pad. <Sorry,
partner, for once, I need you conscious.> She pressed the unit
against her shoulder. "Mulder." 

After wiggling closer to her voice, he rotated his head to the
side, one hazel eye meeting hers. "I'm sleeping, see Scully?" 

She clambered onto the hard mattress, rubbing his arm, bare since
he had tugged off his tan canvas shirt before collapsing. "Mulder,
it's Maria. It's about X." 

He rolled onto his back, practically turning into her lap before
he sat up. "X?" He took the phone. "Maria?" 

"Fox, you sound like death warmed over. Your friend woke up
yesterday, and I'll be releasing him in an hour or so." 

He grunted. "Just like that? He woke up?" 

She sighed. "More or less. His CT scan and MRI are both normal,
and all his bloodwork came back just fine. I have no medical
reason to keep him here, but do you want me to tell him where you
are when I release him?" 

Mulder rubbed his eyes with the fingers of the hand not holding
the phone. "Uh, yes, I mean, no. I think. Let me talk to Scully,
and we'll get back to you. You've been all right, no unannounced
guests, of the any-footed variety?" 

She laughed. "We're fine here, Fox. I've brought on some more
security, just in case. Look, it's no problem, if you want me to
invent something, I will. He's raring to go, but, on the other
hand..." 

Mulder grinned. "You have experience with that kind of patient."
He could hear her smile as she replied in kind. 

"I've been weaned on the best. Just call back, all right?" 

"Sure." He terminated the conversation with his thumb. "Scully?" 

She was propped against the headboard, drowsing. "I'm awake." 

"So's X." 

She peeled back one eyelid. "Really? Is he coming here?" 

He settled beside her. "That's why Maria called. Do we want
another problem on our hands?" He heard her sarcastic growl. 

"Of course, if we can handle bone-eating bugs, shape-shifting
aliens running loose, rockslides, and missing parents, what's a
former coma patient or two?" She waved both hands, her fatigue
obvious. 

"Right. X gets to extend his vacation at my expense." He crawled
off the bed, paged through his address book, then entered the
Retreat's number. "Maria? Oh, thanks. I'll tell her." He turned,
but she had tucked herself into a ball. "Oh, Scully." Mulder
placed her unit on the nightstand, then flipped each side of the
bedspread over her, swaddling her in a paisley cocoon. He stared
down at her, considered a run, then rejected the idea. <I need to
be here in case something happens with the aliens.> He slid gently
onto his side of the bed, found the remote, then settled in as six
pregnant teenagers trooped onto the stage to shout at each other
and Ricki Lake. A mumble from the auburn head by his hip brought
his attention down to his sleeping partner. "Yeah, I'd complain,
too." 

Stretching, her limbs emerged from her padded shell like a
turtle's. "How long before we head back to the warehouse?" 

He checked his watch. "Another three hours. X grabbed a spare pair
of the gardener's overalls and took off. He was over the fence
before Maria realized what was happening. She has the local police
out looking for him." 

Wrapping the coverlet more tightly around her, Scully considered
this latest twist. "He won't attempt to return to his apartment;
he probably has assumed either we or the Consortium will stake it
out. He will need money, though. If Langly is functional at all,
he should track X's savings and checking accounts. Pendrell had
forwarded all the assumed identities to the Gunmen's address, and
he'll need to tap funds from them at some point." She yawned. "I
think once we do that, we should both try to sleep some more,
Mulder. I could almost get used to having all these people around,
working the problem with us." She heard a grunt, then the
autodial. 

"Langly!" Mulder smirked, pausing through the groan from the other
end. "You remember the passenger you shuttled for us?" He waited.
"Well, he awoke and he's on the street. We need you to tap his
finances, to tell us if any transactions suddenly occur." A nod.
"It was already in place? Good. Thanks." 

Before her partner terminated the call, Scully, still bundled,
slid off the bed, lifting one corner of her mouth as a long arm
shot out to tug the cover off her. When he mouthed 'Use your own!'
she stuck her tongue out slightly and passed through the adjoining
doorway.
                                           
                            --o-0-o--

Grand Dining Room
Willard Intercontinental Hotel
Washington, DC
Monday, 11:04 am 

Max Lowenberg gently slid Margaret Scully's chair under her,
catching his wife's nod of approval. The younger woman was in awe
of the surroundings. Tall potted palms accented fluted pillars,
rising three stories to the painted ceiling of the Grand Dining
room. Summer's haze had settled upon the city, but the light
reflected off the mirrored walls gave no hint of the mugginess
without. Tourists paraded through the Grand Walkway past the
dining room, the children cranky with the heat, but inside,
lunching Hill staffers, government officials, and assorted members
of the general Washington establishment were subdued, swapping
secrets and power in a by-gone aura of dignity and calm. 

Caroline smoothed her napkin in her lap. "How did you sleep,
Margaret?" 

The dark-haired woman looked over. "Like a log. That suite, Max,
are you sure..." 

He waved his hand. "I didn't want to use the Firm's apartment at
the Watergate. After what Caroline and I read, it was bound to be
tapped." He beckoned the waiter over. "Besides, I'd remembered
this place from its days of fading glory, and I was curious to see
how well the old girl's facelift went." 

Leaning towards her husband, the white-haired woman solicitously
grasped his hand. 

Margaret felt a sudden horror coil in her stomach at the gesture.
<How will I ever make headway through all this duplicity without
both of them?> "Max, you are well, aren't you?" 

He squeezed his wife's fingers before replying, "Oh, I'm fine,
Margaret." He thumped his chest. "Fit as a fiddle." 

Out of the corner of her eye, Margaret noticed Caroline's slight
blush. 

Max continued, "It's just been hard for me, these past few
months." Raising the embossed China teacup to his lips, he took a
few sips to compose himself before continuing. "You see, I had
always wondered why the Firm had been so supportive of my pro bono
work, and what I've found out both saddens and shocks me." 

At his sigh, Caroline cautioned him, "Max, it may not be safe..." 

He waved her off. "All that time, I was so relieved to find a
haven from which to pursue the records of lost families and lost
treasures, to give something back because I had escaped death.
But, it was all a sham, you see. My business trips were just a
cover for the dark forces your daughter and my step-son are
pursuing, so evil could gain access to places it could not
otherwise, to perpetuate the horror I had escaped." 

The dark-haired woman gasped, "I'm not sure I understand." 

"But, I am not dead yet, Margaret. While I still have breath, they
will not succeed in their agenda." He waved at her bag on the
floor. "By helping Mulder and Dana, by bringing this all to light,
I hope still to win out over them." 

A waiter materialized at the white-haired man's elbow, whispering
unobtrusively. At Max's nod, he escorted a compact, tanned man
waiting at the entrance to their table. 

Caroline extended her hand. "Ibrahim! So glad you could join us.
Lovely of you to drop by for Max's birthday last month."

"Charmed, as usual, Caroline." He bussed her fingers, then turned
his attentions to Margaret. "You must be Dana Scully's mother." 

The color leaving his face, Max rose. "Yes, my manners. Margaret
Scully, this is Ibrahim Nussbaum, our contact from the Israeli
embassy." 

As the younger man bent over Margaret's hand, she admired his full
head of black curls and tailored grey wool suit. "Israeli
embassy?" She waited to pursue the matter until they were all
seated again. "What does this have to do with my husband's diary?" 

Holding his teacup out as Caroline poured, Nussbaum sighed. "It's
not so much your diary, Ma'am, as what Max has found." Interlacing
his fingers, he rested his wrists on the table-edge. 

Margaret realized that even as he presented a picture of ease,
their new arrival was cautiously surveying the surrounding tables,
poised, on guard. 

"We in Israel receive large sums of money from both the US
Government, and from private American organizations. Naturally,
there are sometimes hidden obligations attached. Max has helped us
determine just exactly what some of those strings are." 

Margaret turned to Caroline. "Does this mean you have information
on Dana's abduction, or what happened to Samantha?" 

The white-haired woman nodded cautiously. "Perhaps." Caroline
gestured to their new arrival. 

Nussbaum continued, "It seems that after 1973, there was a small,
dedicated effort to send orphans of European Jewish descent from
America to Israel, to grow up on Kibbutzim, or to be adopted by
Israeli settlers in the West Bank. In time of unrest in the Middle
East, occasionally these children were escorted into the country
under the guise of tourists, and we have photographs from their
entry. Here." 

The younger man passed an enlargement to Caroline, who gasped,
then covered her mouth with her hand. 

Max rubbed her back. "Is it her?" 

The white-haired woman took a deep breath before she leaned over
to speak to Dana Scully's mother. "It could be; it's been so long
since I've seen her. I'm almost ashamed to admit it, Margaret, but
for years, I put all of her photos away; it hurt too much to look
at them." She focused on her hands, clenched in her lap, for a
moment. "I'd always been sure I, her Mother, would remember her
exactly as she was, no matter how long she was gone, but..." 

Max grasped her shoulder, then waited. She reverently placed the
print on the antique lace, before lifting a tiny, yellowed
photograph from her purse. 

Caroline glanced at Margaret. "These are from the summer before
Samantha was taken, when we were at the lake house. What do you
think?" 

The younger woman took the photos, one in each hand, sliding the
faded, crimp-edged wallet image until the two faces of a little
girl were even with each other. 

One showed a bubbling, tanned child, freckled, with long brown
pigtails, her still-damp bathing suit dull in the bright sun.
Beside her was her dark-haired brother, now a head and shoulders
taller than she. His first two fingers were cocked in a Vee behind
her head, matching his faded "My Favorite Martian" T-shirt, under
a crooked grin she would recognize anywhere. The other showed a
serious girl-woman in a navy blue Peter-pan collared suit, her
hair in a bob. 

Margaret studied the faces carefully. <The upturned nose is the
same, definitely.> "I can't be certain, Caroline. The two are very
similar, but it may be more than just a year's difference and the
beginnings of puberty operating on the same child. Do you have any
idea what happened to her?" 

Max leaned forward. "We've traced that little girl from San Diego,
where she seems to have just appeared suddenly in an orphanage, to
a Kibbutz outside Tel Aviv. She was adopted shortly after that,
her name was changed, and the family's records were lost. We have
attempted to reach Mulder, but he's out of town, I believe. We
couldn't raise him on his cel phone." 

Margaret nodded. "They're on the West Coast, he and Dana, on a
case. He would know." 

Caroline took a deep, shuddering breath. "He would. But he's had
his hopes raised so many times, only to have them cruelly dashed
just as often. If we could locate her now to take tissue samples
for DNA-typing before we tell him, I would be far more at ease." 

Max crossed his arms, the gentleness in his voice offsetting his
belligerent pose. "He should be told, Caroline. If we were to find
her, after he's looked for so long, but he's not permitted to
help,..." He glanced at the fountain, the low murmur of the
dancing water drowned by the conversation around it. "Well, I know
how I would feel." 

Margaret hastened to smooth over any disagreement between her two
friends. "But I still don't understand how Bill fits into all
this." 

Ibrahim extended his arm, pointing to the bag at her side, then
lifting three lumps of sugar away with his spoon. "It was the
height of the skyjacking craze, before Entebbe." Both men bowed
their heads for a moment. "It was safer to bring people into
Israel by ship, and if a US Navy vessel was present, they would be
asked for an unofficial escort. It was, after all, just after the
Yom Kippur War, the height of the Cold War as well. I was hoping
your husband's diary mentioned this, since we have no record other
than casual accounts from private sources. He was captaining Med
cruises for many of those years, was he not?" 

Remembering her stained recipe cards, Margaret Scully nodded.
"But, Mister Nussbaum..." 

He shook his head. "Ibrahim, please. You are among friends,
Margaret. My Father served with Max in the Six Day War. You're
almost as formal as I've been told is your absolutely stunning
daughter." 

Although her eyes twinkled with merriment at the mischief his
choice of words implied, she sighed. "Ibrahim. What does this have
to do with Africa?" 

The younger man frowned. "Africa? I don't understand." 

Margaret slid the diary from her bag, opening it at a point marked
with a sheet of hotel stationery. He read the page, then a few of
the entries before and after. Finally, he nodded, handing the book
back to her. "I see. When I return to the embassy, I'll make some
discrete inquiries." He looked over at Max. "How long will you be
in town?" 

The white-haired man chewed his moustache. "For at least today.
I'd like to see if we can contact Mulder and Dana. Margaret, do
you know how we can reach their Assistant Director, Wallace,
William...?" 

As their lunch arrived, Margaret spread the linen napkin on her
lap. "Walter Skinner. Yes, I do. I have his work phone, but he may
want to speak with us in private instead." 

Caroline nodded. "I can certainly imagine he would." 

The four settled down to their meals, suspending further serious
conversation until the afternoon. 

                            --o-0-o--

Senate Hearing Room
Monday, 11:47 am

Senator Richard Matheson recorded the last vote on his tally
sheet. 

"Thank you, gentlemen, and lady." He nodded to Senator Moseley-
Braun, the sole woman on the sub-committee. "I feel my esteemed
colleagues have made a correct determination regarding this
railroad dismantlement." He directed his attention to one of the
grey-suited men in the first row behind the witness' table.
"Director Owens, your plan to employ all the former rail employees
in the new transportation system at no loss of pay was certainly a
reasonable compromise." He rose, sending his mass of staffers into
a flurry of activity, collecting and sorting the papers scattered
on the bench in front of him. "Mister Russell?" 

His co-chair twisted the mike towards his mouth slowly, responding
in the honeyed tones, darkened somewhat with age, for which he was
justifiably famous, "I most heartily concur, Mister Chairman. And
let me be the first to wish us all a profitable August recess." 

Matheson tapped the table with his gavel once, bringing the others
to their feet as well. "This session of the Transportation and
Security Subcommittee is hereby suspended until September." 

Unnoticed in the bustle, two aides met behind the row of chairs,
passing a small notebook from the shorter, red-haired man to
other, tall and blond. Then they separated, loading themselves
with the thick binders and stacks of documents the People's
Representatives had left so hastily behind them. 

Outside the hearing room, the two fell in step, Lindhauer glancing
down at his red-haired associate. "So, does Randall have his
private jet fueled up and cleared for takeoff at National?" 

McConnell grunted. "What do you think? At least we can go on to
the Arctic fairly quickly. How are 'Ace''s rebuilds coming?" 

Lindhauer juggled the notebooks to pull the outside doors open.
"She's taken a day off work to throw something together. We really
need to get someone working with her, to spell her on some of
these projects of hers." 

"I know. She needs to keep her cover at the Bureau intact, but
she's so used to operating on her own, whom could we get that we
could trust? Hardware never was 'Charlie''s forte." 

Lindhauer shrugged. "Beats me. The crews are almost in place up
North, we just lack a few pieces, some troops, some firepower,
those sensors." 

They fell silent as they were engulfed in a swarm of
schoolchildren. 

                            --o-0-o--

Morten's Sleepytime Hotel
Dover, Delaware
Monday, 3:17 pm 

Mulder grumbled as he rolled onto his back, finding himself
further entangled in the bedspread. <How long had whoever it was
out there been pounding at the door?> He staggered over, releasing
the chain before propping it open. 

"Agent Mulder?" 

He blinked at the younger X-Files agent, who was dressed and armed
and standing in front of him. "Rosen, what is it?" Stepping back
to admit her, he stumbled to the opening between his and Scully's
rooms. "Hey, Doctor, we have company." 

When Scully entered, rubbing her eyes, Rosen stopped her with a
hand on her arm, pulling the three of them into a tight circle.
"It's your shape-shifter; he's finally shown up to talk to the
others. We couldn't raise you on the cel phones, so we were afraid
he had attacked you two before he arrived." 

Mulder and Scully were already in motion, reaching for clothes,
stepping into their bathrooms to change. 

As the sounds of flushing and water running ceased, the tall
agent's tenor floated out through the door to her. "How long ago?" 

She moved close to the door. "About a half an hour. A pigeon flew
in, then re-materialized into the man we saw at the airport, which
was how we knew who he was." 

Scully stepped into the room, chewing her lower lip. 

Mulder tapped her arm when he emerged. "What?" 

She looked up at him, then over to Rosen. "We think the Kindred-
Colony are more limited in their morphing abilities, so we have to
consider the possibility that the alien from the Consortium, the
Bounty Hunter, and Aurora, are all from his craft, crew members,
perhaps." 

Rosen gasped. "Aurora was a shape-shifter? How did you know?" 

Mulder shook his head. "From an old enemy. We saw an obituary for
Miss Luminens when we confronted him, not that is matters now.
Let's go." 

                            --o-0-o-- 

Lobby
Willard Intercontinental Hotel 
Washington, DC
Monday, 3:26 pm

Approaching the ornate entrance, set flush with the driveway,
Walter Skinner nodded to a uniformed teenager who pulled the door
open for him. Along the short walk up Pennsylvania Avenue, he had
considered and abandoned several possible justifications for
Margaret Scully's brief call. 

<I'm at the Willard, and I was wondering if you'd like to take a
break from your busy day for a little while, Walter.> A careful
statement of ambiguity, enough to propel him onto the street and
northwestward, but not enough to catch the attention of listening
ears. 

<Why is she coming to me?> He nodded to the dark-haired woman,
seated on one of the brocade couches circling a column in the
gilded marble lobby. <She looks so out of place here, like a
tourist, almost.> 

As she approached him, smiling, she firmly clasped the hand he had
extended. "Walter, so good of you to come." She gripped his palm
with her right, and his elbow with her left. 

"As always, Margaret. But why...?" 

She was pulling him through the tourists, up onto the Grand
Causeway, into a little museum room off to the left. 

A few families trooped dutifully along a line of photos, beginning
from just before Lincoln's time, up through the restoration, and
into the present era. Included in the group was an older couple,
but Skinner thought the dignified wife who carried herself with
grace and poise somehow familiar. 

Margaret touched the woman's arm. "Walter, these are Max and
Caroline Lowenberg." 

He nodded to them, then when the white-haired woman greeted him,
he recognized her. "You're Agent Mulder's mother! What are you
doing in town?" 

She smiled, a slight mysterious expression, that was amplified by
the reticence in her eyes. 

The Assistant Director turned to her husband. "Welcome to DC,
Mister Lowenberg." 

The older man's grasp was a firm as Skinner would expect from
someone half his age. "I've visited here, many times, rest
assured. But, we don't want to take up more of your day than is
necessary. Do you know how to reach Mulder and Agent Scully? We
don't get answers from either of their cel phones, or only their
answering machines at their apartments." 

Skinner shrugged. "The last I knew, they were on the West Coast,
but they don't check in with me while they're on assignment,
unless something goes wrong." 

Patting the Assistant Director's arm, Margaret brought his
attention to her. "We need Fox to help us identify a young girl,
but if you don't know where they are, we can't..." 

Accepting the print Caroline held out to him, Skinner studied the
image carefully. "This bears a resemblance to the one he keeps on
his desk. May I hold it until I see him?" At Max's nod, he slipped
the photo into his jacket pocket. "For this, I'll certainly make
every effort to contact them. Is there any other message you wish
me to convey to them, in case you can't find them?" 

Margaret sighed. "First of all, if they can't contact us, we're
fine. I may be on the way to the airport to see Max and Caroline
off, but there is a diary..." She recounted the information they
had discussed in the afternoon, Skinner listening intently. 

At her conclusion, he checked a couple speaking Portuguese that
had hovered too close to his elbow, before he turned to listen to
the white-haired man speaking beside him.

Max had taken Skinner by the arm. "Anything Mulder tells you, if
you can't reach us, please convey to Ibrahim Nussbaum, at the
Israeli Embassy." He extended a business card. "This is his
number." Max leaned in to whisper, "Even if you do send the
information successfully to us, please give to him also. I've
discovered, the hard way, that it's best to pass along partial
information to multiple trusted sources, as soon as it is
available. That way, if something happens, someone can follow
along after you." 

Skinner grunted. "A lesson I wish you could inculcate into your
step-son, Sir." He tucked the white card beside the photo. "Very
well. I'll pass what you've told me to Agent Mulder and this
Mister Nussbaum, as soon as I can reach him. Good Luck." A nod to
each, and he left. 

                            --o-0-o--

Warehouse
Dover, Delaware
Monday, 3:51 pm 

"Boss!" As they entered, Nichols waved the three over. 

Frohike and Byers were hovering beside the Pentium, where several
screens of code were open, but they turned when the others reached
them. 

Mulder nodded a curt greeting. "What do you have?" 

Noting the blackened face, Nichols realized that the younger agent
had not taken the time to shave. "They're all arguing in English
now, listen." As he handed his headphones to Mulder, he pointed
Scully towards the Pentium. "The guys have been keeping the past
few minutes available on display for you." 

The auburn-haired woman read along as the conversations updated,
while her partner frowned, deep in intense concentration. 

                            --o-0-o--

Pilot was frustrated. "I've endured all these tests for you! Why
isn't it enough, now? I need to return home, to pass what I have
learned along. Why are you keeping me here? You can return with me
if you wish. The engines have more than sufficient fuel to
transport passengers." 

One of the brown-haired women stepped up to him. "But we need to
remain here, to complete our assembly of a genetic data base of
species from this planet. Once the one who walked abroad ceased to
collect useful information for us, your third took over and we
were able to tap into the hominid samples collected by the
government. As we are, however, we are too easy to detect. We need
to understand the genome changes performed on you, so we can
attempt a retro-viral refit of our own. We need more data!" 

The Bounty-hunter sneered, "Such is all I hear from you thinkers.
'More Data', 'More Data'! Even the third who came with us yammered
this endlessly on the journey." He began shoving the stolen
electronics onto the floor. "The time for action is now!" Three
quick clicks, followed by a whistle, emanated from him, then, in
English, he continued, "can still save this planet from its simian
inhabitants, but they must be told soon. These hominids refuse to
reduce their population, or end the pollution of their water or
air." 

The woman's twin stepped forward. "Certain groups among them are
making efforts. If we could somehow establish a long-term covert
presence in their governments, or this United Nations of theirs,
we could guide their progress along less destructive lines without
bloodshed, or wasteful military intervention." 

The fourth alien, silent until now, began speaking in a firm,
quiet tone, totally unlike his frantic pleas from his first visit.
"Yes. We can pass for them with ease, but it would mean
impersonating a leader or a powerful figure, one with the
authority to affect planetwide changes. Right now, there is not
really a single individual who can claim to do that." 

The hulking man sighed. "I am not a decision maker, but an
enforcer of them, only." Producing a small silver rod from his
coat pocket, he flicked his wrist, then held the gleaming pick up
for the two women to see. Gasping, they stepped away from him.
"However, there are times when you ancients must be stopped from
studying a problem endlessly. It is time we took what you know,
and those tools that have been provided for us, back to the ones
who are capable of deploying the forces necessary to save this
world." 

With one swift motion, he sprouted a third arm that he wrapped
around one of the women. The man that had passed by the name of
Luther, who had carefully concealed his identity for the past few
months, followed suit. 

                            --o-0-o--

Warehouse
Dover, Delaware
Monday, 3:57 pm 

Mulder practically threw himself down the stairs when he saw the
Bounty Hunter grab the female, but Scully was right behind him. 

"Mulder! He's not hurting them, just taking them home!" 

He spun to glare up at her, all decorum forgotten. "But they're my
only link, Scully! They must know what happened to Sam." Rounding
the bottom step, he sprinted for the door, but was flattened by a
body falling from above him. 

His auburn-haired partner sat on top of him, pressing his
shoulders down into the oil-soaked sand of the floor as they
struggled. "Mulder, stop!"

He was shoving at her waist, attempting to push himself free
without hurting her. "Scully! Get off me, now!" 

She was just as adamant. "No, Mulder, listen to me!" She was
reaching for her gun. "Mulder, don't make me do this again!" 

Pulling her off his chest, he rolled Scully onto her side. 

But Rosen had flung herself down the stairs, beating him to the
door to slam it shut and engage the padlock with a click. "Mulder,
listen to Scully. They're leaving. To get home, they need a ship.
Where is their vessel?" 

Standing now, Scully was dusting herself off. "In the Beaufort
Sea. We know the approximate location, but we'll need some means
of scanning to find their craft." 

Nichols approached, running ahead of the Gunmen. "But Boss,
they'll be stopping by Aurora's first. They want the bugs, don't
forget." 

Finally, his mind running through their options, Mulder nodded.
"Yeah. Okay." He turned to Byers. "We'll need Arctic gear and more
of your UV sensors. How soon can you have them ready to go?" 

The bearded man was punching a number on his cel phone, waiting
through two rings. "Langly?" He explained their situation, then
smiled as he ended the conversation, looking around at the Agents.
"Langly will assemble what we need for the journey. Any of you
good with a soldering iron?" 

From her place by the door, Rosen waved. "Too many late nights
building radiation counters." 

His eyes bright at this improvement in their prospects, Mulder
nodded. "Okay, let's move."

                            --o-0-o--

Route 300                      / J. Edgar Hoover Building
east of Sudlersville, Delaware / Washington, DC
Monday, 5:03 pm 

As Scully stretched, rubbing her shoulders, Mulder glanced at her,
then touched her hand. "You okay?" 

She lifted one corner of her mouth. "Yes, I am. I shouldn't have
threatened you like that, Mulder, testing your authority in front
of the others. I'm sorry." 

Shrugging, he checked out the side-view mirror before replying,
"So? I shouldn't have tried to throw my partner across the
warehouse like a rag-doll. I'm sorry I blew my cool, *especially*
in front of the others." They locked eyes. "You were right back in
the hotel. We aren't on our own anymore, so I should learn to make
better use of our resources, not run off half-cocked." 

Scully loosened her seatbelt. "At least, not with Rosen to out-run
you." 

He snorted. 

"I'm going to try Mom again." 

As she punched her mother's number into the cel phone, Mulder's
eyes flicked from the road to her face. "Anything?" 

She sighed. "No. Let me phone in to Director Skinner." She waited.
"Gloria? This is Agent Scully. Is he in? Good. Thanks." She
waited. "Sir?" 

The bald man leaned back in his chair. "Agent Scully? Where are
you?" 

She checked a passing road sign. "Just outside Sudlersville,
Delaware, Sir. We're on our way to Alexandria." 

"Good. Please see me immediately upon your return to the DC area.
I have news that will be of great personal interest to Agent
Mulder." 

"Yes, Sir. One thing, Sir, would you put in a request with the
Annapolis police to check my Mother's house, please? I can't reach
her." 

"She's here in DC, Agent Scully. I met with her and with Agent
Mulder's mother earlier today. If you can't reach her, she's
probably taking the Lowenbergs back to the airport." 

The auburn-haired woman frowned. "Max and Caroline are here?" She
exchanged a glance with her partner. "Did they say why?" 

The ex-Marine gritted his teeth. "That's the reason you and Agent
Mulder should return to the Bureau as soon as possible." He held
up one hand, aware that the gesture was invisible to the woman at
the other end. "Put your mind at ease as to their safety, Agent
Scully. They are all well, and wished me to convey that message to
you. Just meet me at the Navy Memorial as soon as you can. When
should I expect you?" 

Scully glanced at the map draped over her knees. "We should be
there in about an hour and a half, Sir." Her partner was fidgeting
as he waited, so Scully excused herself to face him. "Mulder, it's
okay. They're fine, but I think they had something to show you,
only they left it with Skinner. I don't think they wanted us to
know where they were." 

Still restless, the driver bit his lip. "It's safer for them if
they don't. This is getting dangerous, Scully, but we need to go
in force." 

She nodded. "Only you'll be the one to tell the Gunmen they can't
come to the Arctic with us." 

He blew out a long breath. "Yeah, I can hear it now. If Byers had
to speak to that alien, you know all three will want to be there,
to scan their craft with everything they have." 

Scully began punching in Nichols' cel phone. "Nichols? Take Rosen
back to the Gunmen's office so she can get started on the sensors.
We need to stop by the Hoover building to meet with Skinner
first." She listened. "She went with them? To plan? Good. Just
follow them, then. We'll see you there." 

                            --o-0-o--

Apartment
Capitol Hill
Washington, DC
Monday, 6:17 pm

Lindhauer stepped aside to give 'Ace' and "Charlie' admittance.
"How is it looking in your apartment?" 

She sighed. "We're making some progress. The sensor data that I
hadn't downloaded to the main computer in West Virginia is all
gone. I'm having to reconstruct everything from memory." 

McConnell poked his head through the door. "Hey." 

Taking a seat across from the couple, he rubbed his face. "Well,
after a weekend of non-stop work, the Senator is finally off for
the Longhorn State, so we can be on our way to the Beaufort Sea.
Are the tactical units ready?" 

'Charlie' nodded. "Yes. They're being deployed now, with equipment
borrowed from Exxon to raise the ship. It's resting in twenty feet
of water that's not ice-locked right now. It's summer, so the pack
is loose anyway, but we're in a rare period of clear conditions
and prolonged above-freezing temperatures. The preliminary
examination by our cold-suited divers had revealed that the ship
is intact. It looks like it was intentionally set to hang just
below the average ice depth, so it didn't crash, as we had been
led to believe." 

A new voice spoke from the door. "Yes. A necessary deception,
that." They turned to the entrance, watching their former superior
light a Morley. "If we wish to safeguard a technology that has
organic components for future study, what better place than a
deep-freeze?" 

'Charlie' rose, partially out of deference to the old man. "How
did you know that it has organic components?" 

A grey brow arched. "How do you think? Not all of us were
doddering around, spending our money on art, my young associates." 

'Ace' approached him. "How many others in the organization know
you are alive?" 

He grimaced at her. "You're looking well, my dear. Only one,
although there was another who may have figured it out." 

She nodded. "And he's missing from the Rest Retreat. He woke up
yesterday, took off this morning. Mulder and Scully really ought
to wean themselves away from dependence on their cel phones.
They're making plans to join us in the great white north as well." 

The old spy considered her words. <If I reveal how much I know,
they will want to know how I know.> "Oh, how are you aware of
their actions? A constant tap on their phones?" 

She nodded. "It was something that wasn't destroyed in my
apartment, so they're off to the Gunmen's, after a meeting with
Assistant Director Skinner." 

'Charlie' approached his superior. "What do you think we should
do?" 

As he stepped into the doorway, the old spy blew out a long stream
of smoke. "Whatever you wish. Your present course is as valid as
any other." 

After he vanished, the four who remained fell to making plans,
debating the deployment of their forces. 

                            --o-0-o--

U.S. Navy Memorial 
Washington, D.C.
Monday, 6:47 pm 

Walter Skinner watched the grey Toyota pull into the taxi stand at
the foot of the Memorial steps, then approached the vehicle.
"Agent Scully?" As she reached around to unlock the rear passenger
door, the Assistant Director nodded to the dark-haired driver.
"Agent Mulder, perhaps you should let Agent Scully take the wheel.
I have something you need to examine carefully." 

Wordlessly, the younger man turned the key, then exited his
vehicle. After a quizzical glance at her superior, Scully stepped
out of the car, walking around the front. 

Mulder climbed into the back seat. "What is it, Sir?" 

Skinner placed the photo in his agent's outstretched hand. "Do you
recognize this girl, Agent Mulder?" 

His forehead crinkled, then, when his eyes dropped to the photo,
he began taking rapid, shallow breaths. 

Scully glanced in the rear-view mirror, but after one look at her
partner's ashen face, she pulled herself around to view the image
on the paper. "Mulder, who is it?" The desperate glint of hope in
his eyes, filling with tears as his met hers, was all the answer
she needed, so she directed her glare at the bald man. "When was
this taken?" 

Skinner shrugged. "Sometime early in 1975 in a Customs office in
Israel. Your stepfather has only recently brought this to light,
Agent Mulder, but your Mother wasn't sure they had enough to show
this to you yet. Is it your sister?" 

Scully shifted her weight up onto her knees, attempting to match
the girl's face to the photograph her partner kept in his office.
But it was impossible. When the younger man had dropped the print
onto his thighs, the image captured had become invisible to her. 

His long fingers trembling, Mulder was tracing over her hair, her
cheeks, down her nose, as if he could reach into the flat page on
his lap and mold his sister into being. 

Scully brushed the back of his hands lightly with her fingers,
marshaling all their years of connection and friendship to weigh
her query with the proper sympathy and gravity. "Mulder, is it
her?" 

He chewed his lower lip, rocking slightly, his answer a deep
growl. "Yes. It's Sam." 

A tap on the window brought Scully around to face forward. A DC
policeman was outside, so Scully flashed her FBI badge, the man
nodded, and returned to his cruiser. 

The break had given Mulder back his composure, so he coughed and
faced his superior. "What happened to this girl? Do they know?
Where is she now?" 

Skinner's voice dropped to a whisper, extending the younger man
his unvoiced sympathies. "She was placed in a Kibbutz, adopted,
then her family moved to the West Bank. Beyond that, they're still
checking, Agent Mulder. Since you're certain, I think they'll
speed up the search." 

Scully glanced up at her partner's face, attempting to read the
emotions cascading behind his hooded eyes. 

In an effort to contain himself, he was biting down on his lip so
fiercely she could see drops of blood. He continued to rub the
young woman's features as he whispered, "It's her, Sir." 

The Assistant Director exchanged a glance with his agent in the
front seat, knowing full well that what Mulder needed now was
first, privacy, then, the support only Scully could offer. "I
think I have a meeting in a few minutes, but where are you two
going now?" 

Attentive to her superior's concerns, she nodded, following
Skinner as he stepped out of the vehicle, and up onto the wide
sidewalk. "We'll heading over to the Gunmen's, Sir. There's much
we need to tell you, but a synopsis would be simply this: We have
encountered the shape-shifting aliens whom you may remember from
the incidents surrounding the purported reappearance of Agent
Mulder's sister." 

"Those events are etched in my memory, Agent Scully." 

"They have possession of a large portion of our silicon-eating
bug, although we have sent smaller samples to three other
laboratories around the country. We need to follow them to the
Arctic, where they are headed presently in an effort to depart
from earth, so we can try to retrieve the Archaeon before they
leave." At his incredulous stare, she spread her hands. "Sir, I
know..." 

He crossed his arms. "Do you have any proof of these contentions?" 

She nodded. "We have tissue samples that are undergoing DNA
analysis, repeated spectra of the UV signatures that they radiate,
and videotapes of the shape-shifters changing form, Sir. We have
recordings of them speaking in what is, I presume, their own
language, as well as discussing the trip to the Arctic in English.
Although a K'ung hunter might understand their native speech, it's
well beyond anything I've ever heard. We are proceeding with
caution, since some of this information comes directly from a
cigarette-smoking source, who, as you know, interweaves truth with
lies." 

Skinner grunted, "Invariably." 

She glanced over her shoulder before continuing, "The evidence is
more conclusive than any we've been able to give you in the past.
When we return, I'd be happy to review what we have with you." She
glanced over her shoulder a second time. "But right now, there are
other matters requiring my attention, Sir." 

His eyes flitted towards the Toyota, then he inclined his head
once. "Very well. Coming from you, I'll accept that, for now. When
you leave, call me, so I know what's going on." 

She nodded, then opened the rear door to speak with her partner,
but looked back over her shoulder to query, "Sir?" 

He waited. 

Scully turned to face her boss. "You remember what the woman who
claimed to be Agent Mulder's sister and the shape-shifter who
abducted me looked like, correct?" 

The bald man nodded. "I don't think I'm likely to forget that,
Agent Scully." 

The auburn-haired woman took a few steps closer to the Assistant
Director. "We expect that there will be two women who look like
she did, as well as the shape-shifter, moving with another man,
short, with thinning grey hair and  moustache, through the
airports to take flights to Alaska." 

Skinner glanced at a lone couple, startled by their laughter as
they posed by the statue of a typical sailor, which was set in the
center of the monument. "I'll put out an alert to airport security
to track their movements for us." He approached his agent, staring
down at her fixedly. 

She sighed. "If what we have learned over the past few days is
correct, only the women should retain the same appearance you
remember. Ask them to notify us if they are spotted. There should
be a photograph in XF-2015 for you to distribute. Have Gloria ask
Cynthia about it, all right?" 

Skinner nodded. "I'll be able to reach you at your cel phone
numbers if anything turns up?" 

Scully shrugged. "If all else fails, send an encrypted E-mail to
our friends. They can pass the information on to us." 

He stepped away. "Very well, Agent Scully." 

They separated, Scully returning to Mulder's car, swiveling back
at the last moment. "A final favor, Sir. It may be too late now,
but would you ask the Seattle office to put out an APB for an
Aurora Luminens, the proprietor of Eternal Preservations,
Limited?" 

Skinner narrowed his eyes at her. "Is this one of your aliens,
Agent Scully?" 

"Yes. But it's important that they not shed her blood, if you
remember Agent Mulder's stay in Alaska." 

He sighed. "Agreed. Any suggestions as to what I can use for an
excuse?" 

As she opened the rear door, Scully rubbed her eyes with her free
hand. "Try saying she's HIV-Positive, but may not know it yet,
Sir. The precautions will be very similar." 

Skinner cast a long glance at the man in the back seat, then
turned to reenter the glass and concrete structure that had been
his second home for over twenty years. 

                            --o-0-o--

"Mulder?" 

In her absence, her partner had totally given himself over to his
emotions, weeping unrestrainedly. 

But as cruel as it seemed, she had to bring him back to her, out
of the relief this slender lead provided him. "Mulder." Reaching
for his shoulder, she watched as a tear fell on the print,
condensing with it all her affections for this complex man into an
achy sense of wonder. <After all you've seen, Mulder, to take this
in without an ounce of cynicism, a drop of gall. You really see
this as finally, the answer you've been searching for.> She ran
her left hand through his hair, stilling the restless fingers with
her right. "You see, she isn't lost." 

He bit down his lip, wincing when his teeth tracked into the cuts.
"She's out there, Scully. I know this is her. She had a family?"
He brought the knuckles of his right hand to his mouth, biting
them instead, while his left arm curled around his stomach. "Good.
I hope they took care of her, loved her like she deserved." His
voice dropped into a whisper. "Like she never would have received
at home." 

A fresh well of tears overflowed, bringing Scully up on her knees
in the back seat, reaching out for her partner's shoulders with
both hands. "Mulder." 

He blinked, as if realizing she was there, all hovering concern,
for the first time. Unable to voice his thoughts without choking,
he began to whisper to her, "You were right to bring me back here,
Scully. If I had run off, chasing the aliens without you, I never
would have seen this." He shifted to face her, his sudden action
throwing her off-balance, pulling her forward into his hands, his
arms wrapping as tightly around her back as hers were around his
neck. He pressed his face against her shoulder, the weeping having
left his breathing ragged and irregular. Mulder was clinging to
her, needy of his partner's rational serenity and centeredness as
a shelter from the storm of emotions within him. 

Her weight settled, Scully stroked his hair, ignoring the two days
growth that tickled her neck. "It'll be okay, Mulder, you'll see.
After we get back, we'll get in touch with your Mom and Max, find
out what they know. We can both take a leave of absence to search,
if you want." 

He released her to gaze into her green-blue eyes. "But, it's not
your sister. You'd do that for me, Scully? Come with me?" 

Resting both hands flat on his chest, partly for balance, partly
for the connection, she nodded. "Of course. I promised myself I
would when we were so close in February, after you turned back to
help with my nephew, Mulder." She held her hand up, two fingers
raised in a Scouts pledge. 

He grinned, the tears subsiding. "Then we gotta go stop some
aliens, don't we?" 

She broke into her rarely-seen broad smile, her face lighting.
"That we do, Chief. But if you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny
everything."

"Ah. Of course. What more could I expect from the Enigmatic Doctor
Scully?"

                            --o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen
Alexandria, VA 
Monday, 7:16 pm 

Cocking an eyebrow at the long-haired Gunman, Rosen crossed her
arms. "No, Langly, *think* about it. This is a nature-loving,
ecosystem-preserving culture. In a crash, a fission engine would
contaminate a planet, so I don't think they would use it. There
are times when an ion drive wouldn't be useful, but fusion engines
would. They could refuel from proto-stars, or the gas clouds in
interstellar regions." 

At the knock, Nichols moved towards the door to greet the pair
without. "Boss, Scully." 

As they entered, they surveyed the work in progress. Rosen and
Langly were hunched over a circuit board held up in a vise,
soldering in sockets as they talked. Frohike and Byers were
working quietly in a corner by the Pentium, now unpacked, tracking
the changes in spectra as recorded digitally from the UV-sensitive
camera. 

Scully stepped over to the other agent, peering at the long green
wafer. "So what is this?" 

Langly swiveled. "Our new radiation sensor controls. Rosen and I
were attempting to figure out what type of drive they would be
using to fuel their interstellar travel." He turned back to the
brunette. "It wouldn't be fission, no matter what their
philosophy. They couldn't pick more fuel up along the way, or
utilize it, without their own on-board refineries, which would
just burn fuel faster. There is always the risk of contamination
of the vessel itself, leaving aside the potential for a crash." 

Intent on debating his partner, Nichols approached. "Why would
they be using a propulsion system we can even comprehend?" 

A blink, then Rosen shrugged her shoulders. "It's a valid point,
Nic, but if we assume they don't have something we can 'calculate
the operational parameters' for, then how *do* we attempt to track
them?" A flash of teeth. "Go up there with binoculars?" 

Mulder joined them. "Or with everything we can think of, including
a good pair of binoculars." He turned to the older man. "Nichols,
may I have a word?" 

Frowning, he stepped away from Rosen. "Sure, boss, what's on your
mind?" 

Mulder beckoned his partner over. "I need a few minutes, Scully.
Think there's enough technical stuff going on down here that we
won't be missed?" 

She nodded. "More than enough, Mulder. You'll be upstairs?" 

A grunt, then the two agents vanished to the tiny library. 

                            --o-0-o--

Nichols settled into the same turned oak chair Scully had used;
Mulder slumped onto another metal one. 

"Hey, boss, what's so hush-hush that we had to vanish up here?" 

The tall agent sighed, considering his opening statement
carefully. "Nichols, do you remember when we talked about working
with women partners?" A nod, then Mulder found himself coughing
nervously. 

Puzzled, the older man leaned forward. "Sure. You and Scully
aren't having any problems, are you?" 

A bark of a laugh. "No. Nothing like that. I just wanted to see
how things were with you and Rosen, while we had the time." 

Mulder waited. "Well, we've been doing better, since I took your
suggestions, Chief. We talk if we have something bothering us, so
we're over that hurdle, anyway." He frowned. "Was there something
specific you were concerned about?" 

Mulder shifted uncomfortably. "Ah, well, let me put it like this.
Scully and I have put up with rumors, innuendo that never seems to
die, that..." 

Nichols sighed. "That because you two are unattached, out in the
field alone together so much, we should all expect wedding
invitations in a few years." The older man chewed his moustache.
"I took this job, first, because I always envied you two having
the mandate to pursue some of the really interesting stuff you've
investigated." He smirked at Mulder's snort. "But also, I'm not as
young as I used to be. All those long hours and late nights, the
pointless violence, and the threat of discovery while undercover,
were just becoming too much..." 

The younger man crossed his arms. "If you thought this would be
easy, Nichols, then I hope you've seen the error in your..." 

The senior Agent held up both hands. "That I was mistaken? No,
you've taken me all wrong. It's tough and dangerous, working these
X-Files of yours. I've seen you, especially, limping around the
Hoover Building, Scully fussing over you often enough." He watched
Mulder grin at the memories. "It's just that, well, along about
November of last year, I arrested this kid for dealing drugs who
couldn't have been more than fourteen. As I was loading him into
van, he sees my name on my ID and says to me: 'Hey, you arrested
my Dad!'" 

Mulder rolled his eyes. "You felt like you weren't making any
headway, didn't you?" 

Nichols nodded. "It seemed pretty hopeless, like the miseries
drugs cause will just keep rolling over our society in unstoppable
waves. Now, I know you have frustrations as well, what with not
always being able to prove that what you've seen is true. But you
and Scully, with your great closure rates and your X-Files, at
least you've gotten something to hang onto. I don't know, though,
after what I've seen these past few weeks, I understand why you
two kept to yourselves so much. In fact, I'm not sure *I* believe
everything I've experienced during these past few months." 

Mulder nodded. "Thanks. It's tough, feeling like I can only depend
on Scully, leaning on her until she sets her lips in this narrow
little line and hunches over beside me. It hurts watching her wear
down as she works the X-Files, knowing we both have to keep
pushing ourselves. Not many people understand how important having
her help is ... to me." 

Both grey eyebrows arched. "Oh, yeah. But I've never given the
scuttlebutt any mind, Chief, especially after the case in
Minnesota. In fact, if Rosen and I learn to work together half as
well as you and Scully do, I'll consider our partnership a
success." As understanding dawned, Nichols began to smirk, then he
broke out into a deep-throated howl of ironic laughter. "No, don't
tell me, you think..." He snorted, bringing an answering upcurve
to the younger man's lips. "Oh, Boss, Rosen would probably kill me
for telling you, so let me assure you, rumors like that will never
be a problem for us." He sobered, considering the dilemmas in
their respective situations. "Ever. Trust me." 

Mulder crossed his arms. "Are you saying what I think you are?" At
the older man's nod, Mulder let his head fall onto the back of the
chair. "I'm sorry." He rubbed his face, leaving his fingers
pressed into his eyes. "I totally misjudged the situation. It's
just that you told me your marriage is breaking up, finally, and
she appeared in your life right now. It doesn't take a PhD in
Psychology to predict certain possibilities." 

Nichols rose. "Don't sweat it, Boss, but I'll let her tell you in
her own time, when she's comfortable, if she feels the situation
warrants it." 

Mulder dropped his hands, gazing up at the older man. "Yeah.
Sorry." 

"No sweat." Nichols considered. "*You* don't have a problem with
that, do you?" 

Mulder broke into helpless laughter. "Nichols, after all I've
seen, trust me, supervising an agent with an alternative lifestyle
is a stroll in the park. I'm sure there's some new manager's
training from EEO to cover the situation, if I ask. But I won't.
I've had it with classrooms and dry lectures that are supposed to
take the place of a little common sense, human decency, and
courtesy. Scully and I hired her because she's a open-minded
scientist who, like you, is willing to lay it all on the line to
get to answers and the Truth. Anything that gets in the way of
that is a problem. Anything that doesn't, isn't." He rose as well.
"Let's go. Our partners have probably decided they need to use our
bodies as antennas or targets or something." 

Nichols blocked his path. "If you don't mind my saying so, you're
looking a little ragged around the chin, there, boss." 

Pensive, Mulder rubbed his face. "Yeah. I've bunked over so many
times I know where Frohike stashes his extras. See you downstairs
in a few." 

                            --o-0-o-- 

Israeli Embassy
NW Washington, DC
Monday, 8:47 pm 

"Nussbaum." He grinned. "Max! I was expecting you would ring. It
*is* the girl you were interested in? Good. I'll make some calls,
get back to you in the morning. Okay, meet you for breakfast." He
replaced the receiver, turned to his computer, then began typing
in questions for certain associates back in Israel to check, in
archival records, and through interviews. <That should certainly
keep them busy.> 

Unknown to the diplomat, there was an eavesdropper hiding in his
coat closet, monitoring his calls and his actions while concealed
in a space that was unused in summertime. X had made his way back
to the Hoover Building, observing the movements of the Assistant
Director, listening in to his conversations at the Willard, then
on the street with Agent Scully. Now, he had used all his cunning
to come here, to learn the whereabouts of the little girl that was
most probably his difficult charge's sister, knowing that wherever
she was, was where Mulder would, if he drew breath, end up. <This
sounds right, like the plans I heard about from others who were
there at the time. It fits the cover story given one grief-
stricken William Mulder as well.> 

                            --o-0-o--

Office of the Lone Gunmen
Alexandria, VA 
Tuesday, July 29, 1997
1:32 am

"So, you think this will do?" Mulder was bending over three more
custom pieces of electronics as he spoke to Rosen and Langly. 

The long blond hair bobbed. "It should cover most of the ionic and
radiative products of interest." 

The tall agent allowed a smirk to tweak his lips. "Most?" Rosen's
sigh settled his expression firmly in place. <Ah, a way to get
under the good doctor's skin.> 

"Yes, Mulder, you see, we eventually decided that we should be
looking for waste products from whatever propulsion system they
use, and that must, at some point, produce helium, or beta
particles." 

Byers joined them. "It could be emitting gamma rays, either from
the engines, or merely from passing through those emitted by the
stars it would have encountered..." 

The dark-haired man held up his hands. "Okay, I see your point."
He glanced at the three long faces. "I watched Doctor Sagan on his
virtual voyage as well." <They need a little encouragement, all of
them. It's been a long day.> "This should do fine, guys, thanks."
He watched the grey color in Rosen's face flush slightly. <I don't
want to be like my Dad.> As Scully rested her hand on his arm, he
glanced down at her equally drawn visage. <We should take a break
before we go.> 

"I've asked Skinner to post an alert at the airports for the
visitors. Since we don't think the Samanthas can morph easily,
that's all we can tell them." 

He crossed his arms. "Is there any way we could use the metal
detectors or X-Ray machines to help us pick them out?" 

She rubbed her eyes. "I don't think so, Mulder. As long as the
Bounty Hunter and Luther morph into, say, leather suitcases,
containing cotton clothing, what's there for the machines to
detect? We can't suddenly retrofit all the detectors in the major
airports of the nation to sense UV." 

He nodded. "Then we'll have to depend on old-fashioned police work
to track them for us." As his cel phone buzzed, he pulled the unit
from his jeans pocket. "Mulder." He waited, terminating the call
angrily. 

Scully was concerned. "Who was it?" 

"Don't know, there was just silence. Someone wanting to see where
I was?" 

Frohike grunted. "Whoever it was, it was from the District." He
was tapping the screen, where their new trace-back software was
displaying its output. 

The buttons popping softly as he entered the number, Mulder
returned the call, frowning as he listened to a curt recording.
"It's the Israeli Embassy." 

Nichols rubbed his eyes. "Who would be attempting to call you from
there?" 

Mulder shrugged. "Can't say. But, it's time we all hit the sack,
before our flight for Anchorage leaves at 10:05 tomorrow morning."
He ushered them out the door, guiding Scully to their car. When
the others had left, he turned the engine over in the Toyota,
silently waiting for his partner to speak. 

"Mulder, you *are* planning on sleeping, aren't you? If you're
thinking of taking off to NW DC after dropping me home, don't even
stop by my place." 

He grinned, eager to begin the adventure. "Ooh, Doctor Scully, and
here I thought you said you *hadn't* inherited your Mother's
tendencies for precognition?" 

Scully fixed her partner in one of her Looks, hoping for some
response, but he was guiding the Toyota out of the Gunmen's
driveway. <I'm not even going to begin to argue all the scientific
inaccuracies in that last statement.> She lifted her chin.
"Forward, Mulder, before I change my mind, or develop sudden
regrets." 

                            --o-0-o--

Israeli Embassy
Washington, DC
Tuesday, 2:17 am 

Ibrahim Nussbaum eyed the coat closet warily. <I thought I heard
something.> As he rose, the phone rang, so he sighed, lifted the
receiver, and settled back down. 

"David! Thanks for calling me back. What do you have?" As he
listened, he was scratching rapidly on his memo pad. "They left?
When? Unh-hunh, I see. Where are they now, could you find out?
Okay." Ripping the sheet free, he rose to tuck it, crumpled, into
his jacket pocket. "Thanks." He paused, staring at the closet door
again. "Listen I think we have a prowler, I have to go." He
grinned. "I'll be careful, of course. Say hi to Esther and the
kids for me, okay? Gotta run." Opening his desk drawer, he lifted
out his Glock, checking the clip before stepping around his
mahogany desk. 

"Who is it?" He aimed his weapon precisely. "I have a gun trained
on where your head ought to be. "Open the door and step out
slowly." He drew in a long breath as the doorknob rotated, then
began to swing wide. Suddenly, the room darkened, and two shots
rang out, followed by the thump of a body falling to the floor. 

                            --o-0-o--

In the parking lot, Mulder and Scully heard the explosions,
pulling out their guns as they approached the front entrance,
which was normally locked and guarded at this hour. But, the tall
doors were cracked, so they entered cautiously, sidling along the
walls. 

A shouted command stopped them in their tracks. "Freeze! Put your
hands where I can see them, and drop your weapons!" 

The agents complied. 

A lone guard emerged, bulging-eyed and shaken. "Who are you?" 

The agents exchanged a glance, Scully answering. "We're with the
FBI. We're reaching into our jackets to get some ID, all right?" 

A nod, and the pair flashed their badges. 

Mulder sighed. "We had traced an unusual phone call to this
building, and heard the shots as we pulled up. Who's still working
here?" 

"We have five staff members working late. I'll phone them." 

Scully lifted out her cel phone. "We can save time if you can give
each of us a number." 

The guard passed her an internal phone directory and the sign-in
sheet, Mulder taking the top name from the list. The guard
frowned. "I'm not getting a reply from Nussbaum, Third Floor, Room
127." 

The agents and the balding man headed for the lifts, only when
none responded, the guard ran to the wall to the left of the sets
of brass doors. There, he inserted a long slender key into the
cover of the control panel, punching a few buttons before turning
to the agents. "I just powered down the entire elevator system." 

Scully arched her eyebrows. "Anyone up there will have to use the
stairs." A nod from her partner, then she, SIG at the ready,
accompanied the tan-shirted man to the stairwell door across the
marble entrance hall. 

Unclipping his gun, Mulder watched over his shoulder as the
auburn-haired woman disappeared, then shoved his way into the
stairs on his side. He was midway up the second flight when he was
grabbed and dragged into the shadows. He recognized the scent of
his old informant.

"I'm in your debt, Mister Mulder, which is somewhere I plan not to
remain for long." 

Mulder twisted free of X's grasp. "How did you?" 

X sighed. "We really don't have time for this, Agent Mulder. I
need to speak with your stepfather, as soon as possible." 

Enraged, Mulder flung himself into his informer, thrusting him
back against the wall, until they both slid down into a heap of
limbs on the floor. 

In the struggle, X grabbed the Agent's shoulders, shaking him,
then thrusting a page from Nussbaum's notepad in his face. "Mister
Mulder! A man died for this information on your sister! I need to
speak with Max Lowenberg, immediately!" 

Feeling round the landing for his gun, Mulder pulled away. "How do
you know my stepfather?" He aimed the SIG at X's chest. "Were you
in his law firm? Is he a danger to my Mother?" Still on his knees,
Mulder crawled forward. "Answer me!" 

X pushed himself to his feet, waiting for the younger man to stand
as well. "Yes, that was my cover, and no, he isn't. If anything,
your Mother is safer now than when she was isolated in Chilmark.
Can we go now?" Both started when they heard, through the
stairwell walls, the rumble of an elevator moving. 

Mulder pulled his cel phone from his jacket, punching the first
autodial button, frowning at the static. "Scully?" 

"Mulder? I can barely hear you. You okay?" 

He pushed X against the wall. "Yeah, Scully, I am. I'm talking to
an old friend. Where are you?" He detected a sigh. 

"Nussbaum's dead, Mulder. We've called for paramedics and the
police, so Greenwald has reactivated the elevators. If you can,
get to the bottom and stop anyone attempting to leave." 

"Right." Terminating the call, he gestured X back downstairs with
the gun. "Move, we may be losing our suspect right now." 

X increased his pace, pushing the lobby level door open wide.
"You're too late, Agent Mulder." His long arm brought Mulder's
attention to a pair of red tail-lights, visible through the glass
doors. "Now, can we speak with your step-father? That's where
they're headed next." He pulled a crumpled, blood-stained sheet of
paper from his jacket pocket. "This is what they were after, only
I got to it first. We have to reach the Willard before they do." 

Mulder holstered his gun, jerked his head towards the door, then
pulled out his cel phone. "Scully?" 

"Yes? Where are you?" 

"Moving out of the reception area. I need to get to the Willard. I
think our parents are in danger, since whoever it was that shot
Nussbaum is on his way there now. How close are you to the ground
floor?" 

His answer was the crack of one of the stairwell doors opening.
The agents terminated their calls, heading out to his Toyota. 

                            --o-0-o--

Connecticut Avenue
Tuesday, 2:27 am 

From the back seat, X pointed at a long black sedan, traveling
without its headlights. "That should be your culprit, Mister
Mulder." 

The agent slid into the right lane, accelerating until his Toyota
was behind the low vehicle. 

Scully was punching the number for the FBI Main operator. "I think
we can handle this." When the call connected, she spoke precisely,
her tone professionally calm. "This is Special Agent Dana Scully
of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, ID number 2317-616,
requesting connection to the Secret Service." There was another
pause, then she re-identified herself, before continuing, "I'd
like to report a theft in progress, of a government vehicle
containing explosives and headed southbound towards the White
House on Connecticut Avenue, license plate number..." She leaned
forward, reading the black characters by the lights from the
Toyota's low beams. 

Within a minute, there were several unmarked, presumably Secret
Service, cars, behind them, followed by the DC police. But, the
driver of the sedan, alerted through an intercept of her cellular
call, as she had hoped, began weaving in and out of traffic to
avoid capture. Convinced of nefarious intent on the part of the
driver in the black sedan, the other vehicles accelerated,
overtaking the Toyota. 

Slumped in the back, X was shaking his head, wearing a look of
deep disgust. "This will never hold up. Your assassin will be on
the street in an hour, tops." 

Mulder glanced over at his partner. "It doesn't have to. All we
need is to send Max, my Mom, and Mrs. Scully off to safety. I'm
sure the Israelis will make his life miserable enough." 

X barked a laugh. "What makes you think a half-century of
seasoning in the conflicts of the modern Middle East is
preparation enough to handle the forces that man represents? Are
you prepared to take this into the international arena, out of the
jurisdiction of the Bureau?" 

Scully punched the recall button on her cel phone until the
internal Embassy number came up, waiting through six rings until
the call rolled over. When queried, she requested Greenwald, the
guard who had assisted them earlier, then related to him the
disposition of the sedan's driver. Arching a brow, she muttered
wryly, but only so loudly that her partner heard her clearly. "Oh,
based on our previous experience, I'd say Mossad can be quite
effective." 

Mulder and she glanced at each other before the younger man tossed
a comment over his shoulder. "I never expect the search for the
truth to stop at some invisible line on the map." He waved a new
batch of police vehicles around him, stopping to watch them
surround the car that had been forced onto the sidewalk. 

Scully leaned out of the Toyota to speak with one of the officers,
while two others had their trench-coated assailant propped against
the fender of the sedan. All the doors were open, as was the hood
and the trunk, then Scully thought she saw, as they pulled away,
blue-suited men removing and denuding the driver's and passenger's
seats. "No, I think your friend will be out of commission for
quite some time."

                            --o-0-o--

Willard Hotel
Lobby
Tuesday, 2:58 am 

As three men in suits burst into the lobby, the night clerk
jerked, dropping his torn, creased, and much reread paperback of
"The Cardinal of the Kremlin" to the floor. After a moment of
silence reassured him this was not a robbery, he lowered his hands
to study his early-morning visitors more closely. <No, one's a
woman, and a tiny thing at that.> 

The red-haired figure, FBI badge in her left hand, was approaching
him. "We need you to ring a Max Lowenberg, immediately. He may be
in danger." 

Stunned, the pale-faced teenager pulled at the stiff collar of his
blue and red uniform, then complied. "Do you wish to speak with
him?" 

A nod, so he handed the receiver over. "Max? This is Dana Scully.
Is my Mom with you?" A pause. "Good. Please bring yourself,
Caroline, and my Mom to the lobby too, only, use the elevator at
the northeast corner of the building. Mulder and I will be waiting
there for you." Before turning to her partner, she handed the
phone over the reception desk. 

Intense concentration focussing his features, Mulder hovered at
her elbow. "They're all right?" 

Nodding, she waved her partner and X over to the doors she
expected to open at any moment. "For the present. They'll meet us
down here shortly." 

The trio turned when they heard the elevator car descending, X
crossing his arms in a defensive stance. The three groggy seniors
who approached them were still tying sashes over robes. 

Max arched one white brow when he glanced at the Agents' silent
and glowering companion. "Tyrell? What are you doing here?" 

Mulder stepped forward. "Max, do you know this man?" 

His stepfather frowned, waiting for a puzzled Caroline to join
them. 

She rubbed her son's shoulder. "As do I, only not as Tyrell."
Caroline had hoped, after all the phone calls, for a more
leisurely and personal reunion, more like the soft conversation
behind her between the two Scully women. 

Mulder pulled X around by the arm. "What is the meaning of this?" 

X held the page out to the older man that he had shown Mulder
earlier. "This is what Nussbaum uncovered, but it cost him his
life. I suggest you three return to the Mediterranean immediately,
before the trail is covered over by the experts." 

Glancing at the words, Max nodded. "We will." Before the younger
man could react, he found himself engulfed in his step-father's
bear-hug. "Sorry this is so short, Mulder." 

The agent stepped back, grateful, but chagrined. "If this is about
Sam, Max, please, tell me, or send a message to the Gunmen." 

As her husband moved over to the third man, Caroline slipped her
arm around his waist, pleading quietly, "Fox, we wouldn't want to
meet her without you. But, please, dear, remember that this may
lead nowhere." 

Hugging her tightly, he nodded. "I suspect you'll find she's on
the West Coast now." 

Deep in thought, his white-haired mother sighed, then replied,
"I've read the reconstruction of that document of yours. You think
that was how she was taken away from us, really?" More somber
looks, alternately hopeful and full of trepidation, passed between
mother and son. "Then, she must have been on the coast for a few
months before she was sent to Haifa, or returned there afterward.
Either way, we *will* call." She kissed his cheek. "Don't worry
about us or Margaret. She'll have to come back with us, you know." 

Chewing his lower lip until the gashes he had opened there in the
afternoon oozed again, Mulder nodded. "I think that's probably
what Scully's trying to convince her of right now. Take care of
her, and yourselves, all right?" 

Another squeeze, then Caroline reached up to daub at his chin with
her sleeve. "Oh, Fox, of course we will, of course." 

He glanced down sheepishly, unprepared for motherly fussing from
the woman under his arm. 

                            --o-0-o--

"Mom, you need to go with Max and Caroline." 

Margaret had clamped her arm firmly around her daughter. "But,
Dana, my life is here, in the states." 

Scully's forehead crinkled. <How can I convince her?> She touched
her Mother's arm. "Of course it is, Mom, but it's only for a
little while. Besides, maybe you can look up the Theapopolis'
again, show them some pictures of us all. Hadn't he retired to
somewhere in Attica?" 

Wide-eyed, the older Scully nodded. <I know how hard this is for
you, dear.> "All right, Dana, if you're sure this is for the best.
Mister Fuzz will just have to stay with the Righorns a little
longer." 

Her daughter's eyes lightened. "Well, with all their dogs, what's
one more? He'll just love digging up all the mouse warrens in
their woods." 

Feeling only slightly relieved, Margaret laughed, then cupped her
daughter's cheek. "I'll have to pay extra at the dog groomers'
when I get back." The women embraced again, holding each other for
several heartbeats. 

After Margaret hugged her daughter's partner, then waited for Max
and Caroline to shake Scully's hand, the three returned to their
rooms, exchanging departure plans. 

Mulder turned to X. 

The African-American had been observing the exchanges from the
side, a slight sneer on his face. "Well, that was all heart-
warming, Mister Mulder, but, your stepfather has convinced me to
make you an offer." 

Turning away from the elevators, the tall agent frowned. "An
offer? For what?" 

Scully crossed her arms. "You'll tell us everything you know about
the Consortium in exchange for a new identity, is that it?" 

X narrowed his eyes at her. "I am a ship without a safe harbor,
bearing excellent goods. Would you prefer I go back into the
shadows with what I know?" 

Frustrated, Mulder yanked him towards the door. "Whatever. You're
Skinner's problem now. We'll see to it that you're delivered
safely to him, then we have to be on our way to the Arctic, before
our shape-shifting visitors arrive." 

X pulled himself free, keeping pace with the younger man easily.
"I believe I can be of some help to you there, as well." 

Scully glared up at the man between herself and her partner.
"We'll talk in the car." She glanced up and down the street before
they reentered Mulder's Toyota, then tapped out Skinner's home
number. "Sir? Sorry to wake you. But we have a very important
package to deliver." A pause. "We should be there in a half an
hour, more or less." Before facing her partner, she terminated the
call. "I think he knows what to expect without giving away too
much over the phone." 

Turning over the ignition, Mulder checked their passenger, who was
sulking in the rear. "Does he? Do we?" 

                            --o-0-o--

Skinner Residence
Falls Church
Tuesday, 3:37 am 

Walter Skinner met his agents outside the door. As he caught a
glimpse of the guest in tow, he stiffened, unconsciously assuming
his Marine's 'parade rest' posture. When the three reached him, he
waved into the darkness, and two trench-coated men emerged from a
black sedan to join them.

Ignoring the silent pair at his elbow, Skinner, glaring directly
at X, offered, "I expected as much. These two agents are waiting
to take you over to a safe house, where there will be two others,
all for your protection. You will have every comfort we can
reasonably extend, satellite television, a chef, your own private
suite. However, at *no* time will you be permitted a phone call,
without prior authorization." He set his lower teeth even with the
upper. "Is that understood?" 

The two men were nose to nose, unblinking. 

"I expected no less." 

Scully arched an eyebrow. <I'll bet it was like this in the
elevator.> After X was led away, she moved between the Assistant
Director and her partner. "Sir, we will be departing for the
Arctic in the morning..." 

A curt nod. "All of you?" He glanced at Mulder, who shoved his
hair, now sticking to his forehead in dark clumps, off his face. 

"Yes, sir. We have, or will have the gear we need, by that time.
But, you need to alert Senator Matheson to this new turn of
events." 

Taking a step backwards, Skinner grasped his front doorknob. "I
intend to do exactly that, Mister Mulder, in the morning." He
studied both their faces. "I suggest you both try to get some rest
before you go." 

Her shoulders drooping, Scully started down the driveway to
Mulder's Toyota, just ahead of her partner. 

But their superior was still concerned. "Agent Mulder?" The
younger man paused, swiveling just enough to bring his superior
into his peripheral vision. "See to it that I don't have you, or
any of your people cooped up for an extended hospital stay
afterward?" 

Now he took a step back towards his boss. "That has always been
uppermost in my mind, throughout this case, Sir." 

                            --o-0-o--

Beltway I-495
Bailey's Crossroads
Tuesday, 4:02 am 

"Mulder?" 

The tall driver jerked, forcing himself awake. "Hunh?" 

Scully touched her partner's arm. "You should have let me drive." 

He grunted. 

She straightened in the seat. "At least, hit my sofa, okay? That
way I won't worry about you reaching home." 

A long sigh. "Yeah, okay." 

At that, she caught her breath. <He's really tired.> She checked
his face, searching for the subtle clues she had learned over the
years that gave away his emotional state. <I can't quite read him,
this time. Try something. Sam?> "They'll call, Mulder, don't
worry." 

A sideways glance. "Oh, I know they will. It's just late, even for
me. Thanks." He sent her a tiny grin. "I'm fine." As she cocked
her head, his expression grew into a smirk. "That's a real 'I'm
fine', not the Scully family version." He guided his Toyota onto
the exit ramp. "We'll have to get up in about four hours. You sure
you don't mind?" 

She shrugged. "It's no problem, Mulder. We'll both be asleep that
much sooner if you stay. What?" 

He had snorted. "Listen to us, Scully, it's like we're ready for
retirement. Our biggest thrill in life is a good night's rest."
Since they were waiting at a light, he made a huge show of
checking his hair in the rear-view mirror. 

Scully found herself smiling, but the change in the traffic signal
pulled her attention away from her partner. "Mulder, it's green." 

He sighed. "Really? At least it's not grey." He eased the car
forward, pulling past a line of groggy commuters. "Bet you never
thought you'd hear me say that." 

As his hand fell on her arm, Scully glanced over. 

Mulder was regarding her with a wrinkled frown of sympathy. "We'll
be okay, don't worry." 

It was her turn to snort. "Now I know we're in trouble." 

                            --o-0-o--

Dark Apartment
Arlington, Virginia
Tuesday, 7:12 am

'Charlie' wiggled his arm out from under 'Ace''s neck, reluctantly
sliding away from where he had pressed himself tightly against her
back. After nipping her shoulder, he shushed her query as he slid
out of bed. Feeling around the carpet for his boxers, he pulled
them on, then kissed the hand that had reached back for him. He
leaned over to whisper his apologies to her, "Nature calls. I'll
be back." 

Lifting his plaid flannel robe off the floor, he slipped into it
in a daze. <How did we ever decide that last night would be it?
All the planned weekends gone awry, then with aliens running
loose, my old Boss reappearing, the new transport and financial
systems coming on line, we just...> He turned in the hallway to
study the dark-haired woman, who was now easing herself onto his
side of the bed, instinctively seeking him. Her hair was either
matted or standing straight up, as 'Charlie' suspected was his,
but appearance didn't matter to him, only that she was finally,
truly, his, and his alone.

"Drew?" 

He grinned, feeling a new surge of affection for the programmer,
as inexperienced as himself in sensual pleasures. "In a sec." Once
his bodily needs were attended, he returned to his bedroom,
finding the covers down, the sheets cold. "Lisa?" 

"In here!" The voice came from the living room, so he trotted in.
The woman who was now his lover had slumped bonelessly into his
computer table chair, one foot tucked up under her hips as she
usually sat, but completely unclothed. 

He reached down to cover her breasts with his hands, feeling two
tiny points of hard flesh against his palms. "Hey, aren't you
cold?" Utterly focused, she frowned at the interruption as he
lifted first her left, then her right hands, sliding her arms into
his robe. 

She watched him kneel beside her to close the front and tie the
sash. "Hunh? No, I heard the alarm beeping, so I came in here to
check it out. Look." She wriggled her hand through the oversized
flannel sleeve, then tapped the screen for emphasis. "Skinner's
calling Matheson. It's a good thing I set this alternate
monitoring station up at your place, Drew." 

Still crouching, he slipped his hands inside his robe, touching
her in all the ways they had denied themselves for too long,
smiling when she let loose a deep moan and arched her back. When a
loud beep from the computer focused her again, he sighed, fearing
any continuation of the previous night's activities would have to
wait. 

Standing behind his lover, 'Charlie' began massaging her neck,
then he bent over to nibble the spots his thumbs had just
softened. "Work, so soon?" 

She squeezed his face between her cheek and shoulder, following up
by pressing her hand into his chin. "Yeah, sorry. Duty calls.
Drew!" She was intently studying the words on the screen, fixing
the robe so it closed more securely around her, unconsciously
preparing herself for the day's events. "Not only has he contacted
Mulder and Scully, he's gone over to their side!" 

'Charlie' scanned the black letters in the white transcript window
at the bottom of the screen. "We'll have to tell the others about
this." Suddenly anxious, he picked up the handset. "Find the
number for the base camp, would you? 'Finn' and 'Andrew' should be
supervising the retrieval of the alien craft." 

After a few key-clicks, she read out the first few digits, waiting
until after she heard him punch the area code before supplying the
rest of the number. 

                            --o-0-o--

Apartment 5
Alexandria, VA 
Tuesday, 7:27 am 

Mulder shifted onto his side, feeling that slightly euphoric,
ache-free state that was light sleep slowly receding. Scully was
up and around, having bathed, dressed, and probably packed before
she tip-toed past him into the kitchen. The Arctic not being one
of the locales they normally visited, he suspected his heat-loving
partner had added every wool garment in her wardrobe to her duffle
for the trip. He flipped onto his stomach, blinking at the subdued
illumination from the overhead range light in the kitchen.
Although Scully often slept with every bulb in her hotel room
glowing, tonight, she had darkened the apartment completely,
attempting, in her own way, to ease him into rest. 

She passed across in front of the door several times, fully
clothed, but shoeless still, before she noticed that he, peering
groggily over the rounded arm of her long sofa, was watching her.
Her lips curved upward slightly at the tousled hair and bright
eyes. <Raring to go, already?> She crossed her living room to him,
bending over to run her hand down his shoulder. "Hey. You sleep
okay?" 

As she straightened, prepared to return to the kitchen, Mulder
pushed himself off the sofa. "Yeah." Scratching his chin as he
followed her, he paused in the doorway to button his shirt. "You?" 

She nodded. "I suppose, since we'll be on planes for much of the
day,..." 

He grunted, "And night." 

Having filled the grinder with beans, she pressed down on the
protruding oval button with the heel of her hand, the whirring
interrupting their soft exchanges. "We can catch up a little bit
on one of those flights. How did you reach the site in the first
place?" 

He grinned. "Snowmobile. However, I'm pretty sure the guys have
something a little more creative in mind." 

As the kettle began to whistle, Scully poured the water into a
tall, unbleached filter. "Without a doubt." She faced him. "It's
high summer, Mulder, which means the ice pack will be breaking up,
moving out to sea, not solid like it was when you were there." 

Reaching into her upper cupboard for two old-style Navy mugs,
handleless for ease of cleaning and stacking, he glanced back at
her. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that. Frohike will meet us at
National with the Arctic gear, give us the rest of the details
then. We may have to fly in and out." 

Scully checked the filter, coffee grounds coating the sides, then
poured in more water. "Probably. Even with their contacts, I
hardly see them being able to rustle up an icebreaker overnight."
Replacing the copper kettle on the stove, she crossed her arms.
"It's not like our going up there is a surprise." 

Mulder dropped two heaping spoonsful of sugar into his cup, tiny
cracks in the finish forming a network of lines over the surface.
"Yeah. I suspect we'll have a whole lot of company on the ice."
They carried their filled mugs to the kitchen table, drinking in
silence. She was chewing her lower lip, so Mulder touched her
shoulder. "Other than keeping our eyes out for trouble, I'm not
sure there's much we can do about the Shadows, if they appear." 

She shook her head. <That's not it.> She arched one auburn brow.
"Poor Mom. This'll be the first time she's been out of the
country." Scully rolled her now-empty mug between her hands. "She
and Ahab were planning a grand tour of Europe together, that year
he died, so she picked up her passport and even had all her
vaccinations updated." 

Mulder nodded. "But they never went, did they?" 

Scully shrugged. "Mom had the tickets and all, but not the heart
to make the journey alone. She tried to get me to go with her."
She glanced at her partner. "But, you know." 

Mulder sipped his Kenya, which was cream-colored from all the
milk. "Couldn't Melissa have gone? I thought you said she was
writing free-lance at the time?" 

Rising, Scully padded over to refill her mug. She settled back
into the chair, her legs crossed at the ankles, before responding,
"If there was one good thing that came out of my abduction,
Mulder, it was that Mom and Mel finally began speaking again." 

He nodded. "I thought I caught undercurrents of that in the
hospital, Scully. Do you mind my asking what drove them apart?" 

She shrugged. "Mom's a good Catholic, better than any of us." She
glanced over at him. "Like you didn't already know that. In a way,
Ahab's recounting of the Irish legends was what drove them apart.
Mel always referred back to them when talking about all the ideas
and practices Catholicism stole from the other religions they
conquered, and Mom didn't want to hear it. It was the rift between
them that drove Ahab to ask Mel to leave, not any sort of youthful
indiscretion, in case you were wondering." Her coffee finished,
the auburn-haired woman rose, stepping into the hallway. 

Mulder poured himself another, downed it quickly, then rinsed the
pot and mugs, leaving them in the dish-drainer. 

As she was lugging her bags towards the door, he folded 'his'
blanket, stashing it and 'his' pillow in her hall closet. <My
shelf, my drawer. Just like it was with Jerry.> He chuckled to
himself. <It feels good to have a place with someone, however
unconventional the connection.> Gathering his keys and wallet, he
stepped back into his shoes, then hoisted her bags with one hand.
"You ready?" 

She grasped his arm while she balanced on one foot to wiggle into
her black running shoes. The rest of her apparel, jeans and a
black FBI sweatshirt, were as casual. <No tailored suit, Dana, you
don't know where you'll end up.> "Yes. Let's head to Arlington."
She lifted one corner of her mouth. "It's your turn." 

                            --o-0-o--

Dark Apartment
Arlington, Virginia
Tuesday, 7:54 am

Fully dressed, 'Ace' emerged from the bathroom, surprised to find
her lover waiting for her. 

'Charlie' extended his arms towards her. "So, do we call in sick
and spend the rest of the day together?" 

As she settled against him, she frowned. "Drew..." She shook her
head. "We're responsible for running everything while the other
two are away." 

"You were always the intelligent ones." 

They spun, surprised to find a grey-suited figure slouched on the
couch in his living room. 

The old spy cocked his head at 'Charlie'. "Still happy to see me?" 

The younger man stepped forward. "What brings you here?" 

The Morley waved lazily. "You've heard, no doubt, what has
happened with our former associate?" 

'Ace' moved to 'Charlie''s side, gripping his hand. "We watched
the phone call come in and finish. So, tell us, how much does he
know, and how much damage could befall the Organization should he
tell too much?" 

The lean form glided forward, until wrinkled man and smooth-
cheeked woman were nose to nose. 

The Smoking Man sighed. "If we assume his memories are still
intact, and I suspect they are even after his period of illness,
far too much." 

'Charlie' pushed his way between 'Ace' and the old spy. "We should
just eliminate him, send in one of our assassins. An FBI 'safe'
house isn't really." 

The smoke curled from the end of the Morley, its user regarding
the younger man sadly. "Is that your only solution?" 

'Ace' shook her head. "We discredit him, we find out what he's
telling them, make sure it's all proven wrong or false. After a
few checks on his stories, they'll give up on anything he says,
but he'll be their problem, not ours." 

The grey head nodded. "Exactly. But we need a new informant as
well, someone to steer them wrong, subtly, slowly." He fixed
'Charlie' in a significant stare. 

"Me? You think it should be me?" 

'Ace' faced her lover. "It has to be you, Drew. You're the only
one of us four Mulder and Scully haven't met." The man with the
Morleys listened, waving her on. "Further, you shouldn't go to
Mulder. He's too suspicious, too paranoid. We need to focus on one
of the newer members of the X-team." 

Ignoring the younger man's glare, the Smoking Man grasped her arm,
kissing her lightly on the cheek, leaving his hand on her elbow
until 'Charlie' bristled. <Yes, you will be so easy to manipulate.
You were always an open book, at least to me.> Bowing slightly, he
moved away. "As always, wise as well as stunning. Too bad you
haven't applied the same intelligence to keeping up with what your
compatriots are scheming in the Arctic." His hand on the front
doorknob, he threw parting words back over his shoulder, "I'd be
very concerned about how much your new relationship will affect
them, especially now that *Lisa* is so integral to the technical
operations of the Organization." 

'Ace' and 'Charlie' exchanged a glance, then nearly knocked each
other down, racing to the entrance.

                            --o-0-o--

Washington National Airport
Arlington, Virginia
Tuesday, 8:26 am

Mulder nodded to Nichols and Rosen as they approached. "Good
morning. Now, if the guys come through..." 

"Mulder!" 

The agents turned, Rosen suppressing a giggle. 

Not only were the three Gunmen toting huge bundles of Arctic gear
for them, they were fully outfitted themselves. Frohike's round
cheeks were shiny with perspiration, wrapped as they were in the
fur hood of his stiff silver parka. 

Scully assumed the rigid mask that Nichols had learned was her
poker face. He had watched her use it both in tense stand-offs
with criminals, or when she found it essential to maintain her
professional facade when faced with one of Mulder's theories. 

Her partner, on the other hand, was completely readable, a
crooked, tooth-baring grin broadcasting his amusement. "Guys.
Those can't all be for us!" 

Reaching them first, Byers dropped his packages to the floor,
opening his jacket and flapping the sides. "Who said anything
about handing this stuff off? We're coming with you. We've already
arranged for the electronics and the majority of the survival gear
to be sent on ahead of us." 

Langly produced three airline tickets. "You need us, G-man, so
we're ready to go with you." 

As Rosen and Nichols exchanged glances of astonishment, the
auburn-haired woman grasped her partner's arm in a firm clutch.
The two stepped off to the other side of the long row of black
seats suspended on chrome tubing. 

"Mulderrr. They *are* *not* taking an Arctic vacation at the
Bureau's expense." Her green-blue eyes were flashing, shooting
daggers. 

Bending over her, Mulder pressed his hand firmly into the hollow
between her shoulders to bring her ear close to his mouth. His
breath set several strands of her hair in flight. "No arguments
here, Scully." He glanced back at the others. "But how do we
convince them to stay? If you knew half of what they've done over
the years, you'd know they can take care of themselves." 

She crossed her arms. "I don't care, and I *don't* want to know. I
don't want to be accountable for their lives, Mulder, do you?" 

He straightened, bringing his voice up from the forced whisper he
and Scully had been using to a normal volume. "No." They returned
to the group. "Guys, we really have to insist..." 

Byers stepped forward. "Mulder, if you're about to say that you
don't want to feel you have to look out for us, we understand,
really." His lips pulled back into a tight grin, attempting to
soften the criticism in his next statement. "Given what's happened
to you in the past, *we* don't want *you* to be responsible for us
either." 

Langly stood beside them. "We're just another team, Mulder. But
we're *journalists*, and there's a downed UFO up there. This isn't
a wild goose chase after some drunk's lights. It's real alien
technology, the sort of proof we've looked for all our lives. You
can't keep us from pursuing the Truth for our readers, can you?" 

Scully's chin was down, her arms crossed. Her Look would have
cleaved granite, but the tall agent was weakening, preparing to
concede. Glancing down at his partner, Mulder attempted to offer
some mediation, but found he was wincing at her unyielding glare. 

Scully turned to the three men. "Mulder just tried to tell me that
you two have faced danger before, but this isn't a cakewalk. These
aliens can kill you with a single drop of their blood." 

Totally overheated, Byers threw the parka on the bench behind him,
then, relieved, approached Scully. "We know that. After Mulder
returned from the Arctic, we took samples of his blood, then
developed a quick anti-serum. The same organization that DNA-typed
the samples from the Kindred and the Colony, used a little to
conduct tests with mice. It really does work, at least in the
lab." 

Surprised, but pleased with their rigor and ingenuity, Scully
stepped back. "Guys, we *know* you can take care of yourselves,
but..." 

Delighted, Frohike shrugged off his parka. "Bless you, Divinity!
We're in." The three began spreading maps and papers on the
carpet, jabbering excitedly. "Now, we'll rent a helicopter..." 

Langly shook his head. "No, we'll need a Twin Otter." He blinked
at the stares from the rest, then held up two fingers. "Two
engines, can fly on one, but not far. They were designed for
short-runway take-offs and landings during the Korean War, but
with the factors of safety built in at the time, they last
forever. We can get in, drop some equipment, and get out in a
hurry. They're even fairly good in extreme conditions." 

Kneeling beside them, Mulder pointed to a dot in the Northwest
Territories of Canada. "This is where I took off from, Inuvik,
moving in a northeasterly direction." 

Rosen crouched, listening intently. 

Nichols and Scully exchanged a 'You tried' shrug, before taking
seats where they could study the charts from above.

                            --o-0-o--

Franklin Bay 
Northwest Territories, Canada
Tuesday, 10:17 am 

"That should be enough buoyant force! Blow the charges!" Lindhauer
released a blue call button on the short-wave radio unit before
turning to his fellow conspirator. 

McConnell scanned the scene with binoculars. The ice pack impeding
their progress had not yet broken free of the shelter of the bay
surrounding it, so he doubted, this late in the season, whether it
would. Instinctively, the red-haired man checked for the
helicopter he and Lindhauer had arrived in, lifting off from a
narrow spit of land to his left. He glanced over his shoulder to
the south, marking the sun's location above the horizon, then
smiled as Lindhauer, his fur hood thrown back, approached him. 

McConnell waved his arm at the sky. "I'd never adjust to life up
here, all this continuous daylight keeps me awake." 

Exhilarated, the tall, fair-skinned Lindhauer rubbed his cheeks.
Ever the risk-taker, he had established their observation camp as
close to the bay as he dared. They were just a quarter-mile south
of the dangerous crevasses that opened in the glacier as ice
spalled off to fall into the water as new bergs.

Lindhauer shook his head. "But I could." He enjoyed a deep breath.
"The air is so clear, and clean, although I'm told air pollution
is becoming detectable up here." 

The pair resumed their surveillance. A small team of men was
scrambling up and down the ridges in some of the larger ice floes,
checking the charges they would use. 

McConnell nodded. "If we could still have access to a submarine,
this would have been simpler. Sea ice is easiest to break up from
underneath, toughest from the top. We'll have to use six times the
amount of TNT we had planned." 

One of the crewmen approached from below. "That should do it,
Sir." He pointed to the chains radiating outward from an open
patch of water, the deep blue seemingly black against the unending
whiteness of the ice pack. "With the massive bergs as far away as
they are, we can inflate the balloons, bring the vessel to the
surface, then slide it up onto the ice." 

All the chains were interlocked under the alien craft, which had
not been stuck in the bottom, as they had expected prior to the
initial surveys. Instead, the vehicle had been floating just
beneath the surface, in open water, as much of the Beaufort Sea
was in the summer. The vessel was also intact, as if stowed for
safe-keeping, prior to the return of its Pilot and crew. 

Having noted the lack of the bluer fresh water ice himself,
Lindhauer nodded. "As I said, begin." 

After the men present took cover under steel barriers, the foreman
dropped his arm, signaling for detonation. Curiosity driving them,
various members of the crew began peeking around their shelters.
The ice deformed along shock waves propagating away from six
separate piles of dynamite that had been exploded simultaneously.
When the men emerged, the pack was broken up enough to raise the
vessel, so a second wave initiated the inflation of tubes running
along the chains. 

There was a collective gasp as the cylindrical ship broke the
surface, looking for all the world like a silver cigar. It had
emerged end first, the flotation tubes pushing it up onto the ice,
then small charges propelled the mass across the irregular
surface, until it rested, gleaming, on an oval multi-year floe
where the crew had gathered. The precision of the delivery brought
a cheer out of the group present. 

McConnell approached cautiously, reaching out with both covered
hands. 

Lindhauer was just behind him. "What is it like?" He rubbed the
outside with both fur mittens before touching the dried, slightly
warmed spot. 

Seeing him, McConnell freed his right hand as well. "Jeez!" 

Both men jumped back. 

Lindhauer waved the others towards him. "It's vibrating!" 

McConnell stepped forward, buffing more of the craft dry with his
sleeve to keep his hands from freezing to the surface, then
playing his fingers over it, fascinated. 

The crew was around them now, the foreman waving a radiation
counter over the vessel. "It's okay, it's barely reading above
background." The others rubbed and probed, the significance of
their actions not lost on them. 

After a few minutes of exploration for a hatchway, Lindhauer
called for silence. "As much as I hate to say this, gentlemen, we
have work to do." 

Two of the crewmen, swathed like the rest from head to toe in dark
green extreme-weather suits, were jabbering excitedly in soft
Alabama accents. 

"To think, Elroy, last year this time, I was looking at losing the
house, but now, this! Man, what a day!" one exclaimed.

The other grunted. "I just don't want to be out in the open when
the owners come back to reclaim their transport here." He waved at
the ridge. "Good thing we brought back-up." 

                            --o-0-o--

Cockpit of the 'Arctic Sunrise'
Over Franklin Bay, Northwest Territories, Canada
Wednesday, July 30, 1997
9:47 am 

Mulder glanced into the fuselage of their plane from the co-
pilot's seat, smiling at the men and women behind him, who were
crouched over their respective sensing equipment. <Why does it
seem that wherever the Gunmen go, it looks like they've brought an
entire workroom of electronics with them?> He cupped his hands
around his mouth to shout over the engines. "You guys spot
anything?" 

Grasping the overhead webbing as she walked, Scully came forward,
letting her partner pull her close so they could speak without
deafening each other. "Not yet, Mulder, but we're looking." She
shifted over to behind the Pilot. "How are we doing for gas,
Baird?" 

The half-Inuit Canadian, belted securely in the seat on the left,
checked the gauges before responding, "No problem, Agent Scully,
we're still on the first tank. We'll keep sweeping in this search
pattern you laid out until the needle on the second tank gauge
reached the halfway mark, there!" He pointed to a yellowed dial.
"Then we have to go home." 

Scully nodded. "How's the storm?" 

He toggled a cracked red lever, backlighting a monitor, obviously
retrofitted onto the instrument panel with a home-made mount of
bent aluminum sheet. As the rotating radar beam from a Vietnam
War-era search and rescue unit swept through the quadrants drawn
with grease-pencil on the glass, an irregular green blob stood out
far to the northwest.

Baird swiveled in the pilot's seat. "Looks like it's still about a
day away. They can still be bad in the summer, you know. How many
times have you people been up here, anyway?" Mulder shrugged. "I
thought so. Good thing you brought all that survival gear. You'll
need it, soon." 

As she felt a tugging on her jacket, Scully spun. 

Langly was behind her, waving at them all. "We got something! Tell
Baird to steer to the west." 

Scully pulled herself forward, speaking into the earhole in his
scuffed white helmet that pressed his long black hair under the
collar of his flight jacket. A nod, then the plane banked.
Scanning the horizon, Mulder grunted as sun glinted into his eyes
off an object on the ice. 

Baird gasped. "Here I thought you people were crazy! I've never
seen anything like that before!" 

Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance; Langly called, then waved
the others forward. 

Scully leaned close to her partner. "We have." 

Instinctively, Mulder wrapped an arm around his partner's
shoulders, then clapped her once on the back. "The papers were
right, Scully, it's all real! Can you believe it?" 

Just as reflexively, she jumped at the touch, then relaxed as they
shared a moment of infectious joy. Finally Scully straightened,
feeling she had to bring him down, to ground him once again. "It
could be a trap, Mulder, set for us." 

The tall agent was beyond hearing, though, until Byers ran to the
front. "We have another signature, further up the bay!" 

Baird nodded, easing the nose of the plane to the right, splitting
the distance between the twisting coasts. As they approached, he
leaned towards Scully. "Looks like someone was doing a little
camping not too long ago." He pointed down at tread marks, oil
drums, and several abandoned steel panels. "It's as far from the
silver tube up the way as it is from the one just ahead." 

Deep in thought, Mulder was chewing his lower lip. "A decoy,
Scully? Both of these are close to where I encountered the
submarine. But why?" He vaulted himself into the body of the
plane. "Can you guys tell these two apart?" 

After Langly and Rosen shook their heads, the dark-haired woman
met his eyes. "The ionic and radiative signatures are identical.
Are you sure there haven't been two landings?" 

Mulder shrugged. "No, but I suspect one, or both, could be a fake.
We'll have to split up." He waved them all into a tight circle,
the group resembling a football squad huddled before a play as
they attempted to hear each other over the engines. "We'll form
into two teams, Nichols, you and Rosen take Frohike and Byers.
Langly will come with Scully and me. That way, we split the
technical expertise evenly. We have survival tents large enough
for four, but no more." 

Scully took over. "There's a storm about a day away. Whatever
happens, will happen either before or after. We can keep in touch
by radio, but until the weather improves, we'd better stay
undercover." 

Mulder rose from his crouch, going forward to explain his plan to
Baird.

The pilot nodded. "I'll set down over there." He pointed to an
ice-free strip of land. "I can use a similar section I spotted
back at the other site. Good Luck, you guys." 

                            --o-0-o--

Promontory
Franklin Bay
Wednesday, 10:16 pm

Rosen tweaked a small rotary dial. "Mulder, do you read me?" 

The unit crackled, signal strength bars jumping erratically. 

"Loud and clear at this end. Look, the storm's coming on faster
than we thought. It's already beginning to darken here. We're set
up our shelter in the lee of several large boulders, dug ourselves
in for the long haul. Are you guys prepared?" 

Rosen leaned forward. "We discovered a leak in one of our water
containers, so we've melted and strained some ice. Our fuel took a
hit, but we should be all right. We've discovered a south-facing
cave, so we're set up there. Over." 

"A cave? Any occupants?" 

"No, no bones or other evidence of habitation. It's a long tunnel,
really, too small for a bear to use. I'm on the ridge above it
now, I can't see your position, but I can the leading edge of the
front. We can't raise anyone once we're in the cave, but we can
keep an eye on our vessel on the ice. I'm going off now, to
conserve batteries." 

"Talk to you in the morning, if that means anything up here." 

"Right." 

                            --o-0-o--

Survival Shelter
South end of Franklin Bay
Wednesday, 10:21 pm

One of the crew stepped through the door. "Sirs? We have company." 

Lindhauer and McConnell nodded, stepping out of their white
trailer, which was partially sunken into the ground, to survey the
Bay. 

After lowering his binoculars, the red-haired man glanced at his
companion. "It's the FBI. I'd wondered how long it would take for
them to arrive after 'Ace''s message yesterday." 

Lindhauer shrugged. "If Mulder were operating as he normally does,
he would have come alone, or brought Scully, and they would be
here without telling anyone where they've gone, or when to expect
them back. But, with Skinner, Matheson, and probably the
Washington Post knowing where they are, they can't be eliminated
easily." 

McConnell grunted. "Not the Post. The third man is one of the
Gunmen, and knowing those paranoiacs, they've probably posted a
special edition of their Nuthouse publication on the Net,
informing all their readers as well. We should have moved against
them first thing, rather than attempting to piece the Organization
back together." 

Lindhauer blew out a long sigh, the moisture condensing instantly
into swirling droplets. "Six of one..." 

The pair turned when their radio operator called from inside the
trailer. "Sirs! We have an Apache helicopter coming in low from
Alaska." 

Lindhauer called the rest of the men to arms, deploying them in a
loose circle around the hovering vehicle. "Relax, gentlemen,
that's one of ours." 

After the last of the supplies were unloaded, the copter departed,
flying low over the troops lugging boxes back to the shelter. The
two Alabamians fell in step with each other. 

"And here I thought it would be those ali-ens, Elroy." 

Elroy slipped his hands back into his fur-lined mittens. "I just
wish they'd show up, so we can get out of here. I guess the men in
charge want to wait until they climb inside that thing on the ice
before turning loose all the firepower we set up." 

He waved at the bunkers arrayed behind the trailers. "Yeah, we
never had anything like that back in the militia, did we?" 

Behind them, Lindhauer and McConnell stepped forward to greet the
new arrival. 

The old man was lighting a cigarette as they approached. "So, are
the preparations complete?" 

McConnell nodded. "Including the FBI." 

He took a long drag before replying. "As I expected." He gestured
the pair closer. "Leave them to the elements, after we have
finished our mission. The time is not yet right to strike, so if
they survive, all the better. There is a larger problem that needs
to be addressed." He shivered. "But, if you don't mind, inside.
I'm not as young as I was when I was in the cold white North
before." 

The younger men shepherded him into the trailer. 

                            --o-0-o--

Ridge
Franklin Bay
Wednesday, 10:23 pm

Mulder swiveled to face his partner. "How do our supplies look?" 

She nodded. "We'll be okay, Mulder, don't worry. It's good they
found shelter; that little tent would have been tight for the four
of them. It'll be rough enough out here for us." She tugged him
inside the padded nylon. "I suggest we conserve body heat by not
moving around any more than necessary." 

Mulder nodded, then leaned over in surprise when the radio
crackled again. 

Rosen's deep alto emerged from the speaker, "Mulder!" 

He switched the unit over. "What happened, Rosen?" 

"We have company! There's a mother polar bear and her cub
traveling the ice, headed for the craft!" 

The tall agent cursed softly. "Can you pick up anything about the
animals with the UV sensor? Could they be the shape-shifters?" 

Byers' voice answered, "Rosen's switched the unit into calibration
mode, to try to cut down the direct solar flux. Hang on, she's
waving. It's a hit, Mulder, it's them!" 

Nichols continued, "I've just come back from the observation
point, and there's a notch in the spectrum when Ros points the
sensor at the bears." 

Scully took the microphone from her partner. "As opposed to when
you point it at the sun?" 

"Yes, exactly. Hang on. I'm taking the receiver with me." 

The three listened to crackles and grunts. 

Finally, Rosen spoke. "It's them. They're poking the craft, now
it's rolling on the ice. Oh no! It's a fake! I see the lines where
the plywood sheets meet in the sun. One of the bears is attempting
to pull it open." 

A deafening crack sounded, followed by several seconds of hissing. 

Mulder had the tent flap unzipped, beginning to crawl out despite
Scully's determined hold on his left boot. 

"Mulder! You'll never reach there in time! You'll be caught in the
storm!" 

Langly grabbed the mike. "Anybody there? Can you guys hear me?" 

The Agent had just yanked his boot free when there was an
answering pop.

They heard Nichols' voice. "Sorry about that, Chief." 

Mulder began backing in as rapidly as he had leapt out. 

The older agent continued, "We were taking cover from the
explosion. Let me check." More static. "We're okay here, all
present and accounted for. There's wood and metal everywhere,
though. Wait, I even see the bears. They're headed up the bay,
moving at a good clip. I think all the excitement is coming your
way, boss. We're going to hole up now. Nichols out." 

Mulder released the lever on the side of the microphone. 

"Well, Scully you heard him. It looks like we're it." 

She nodded, reaching across him to zip up the tent. During the
discussion, the temperature had dropped to several degrees below
freezing, and the winds were picking up. "Whatever's out there,
Mulder, will have to survive the next few hours along with the
rest of us." 

Langly nodded. "At least the aliens are moving away from the
cave." 

Suffering from the lack of meaningful rest and food, Mulder rubbed
his face. "Yeah. We'll have to sleep in shifts, one person at a
time. The remaining two will have to keep each other awake." 

His gaze was met by Scully's steely glare. "That first person
should be you, partner. I at least managed to nap on the flight
from Seattle to Inuvik. You, as I remember, were refereeing a
debate between Frohike and Rosen about the Yeti." 

Mulder yawned. "Yeah, I think my old friend has finally met his
match, although he did get a few good licks in. It's a wonder we
weren't invited to use the wing seats after it got good and loud."
He slumped down, tucking his head against his partner's hip. "Wake
me in a couple of hours." 

Scully zipped the sleeping bag that he had spread out beneath him
shut around his body, then wiggled into her own, as did the long-
haired Gunman with his. She grasped her partner's shoulder. "Three
hours, Mulder." 

Langly shifted over until he and the auburn haired woman were
fully in contact. "Then it's your turn, Doc. You're looking
ragged, too. Don't you and Mulder take breaks on these cases?" 

She shrugged. "We usually can't afford the time. So, tell me about
your childhood, Langly." She yanked the hood of the sleeping bag
shut around her head. "Any boring thing you want to say, just say
it." 

He grinned. "Well, since you put it that way..." 

                            --o-0-o--

Cave 
Franklin Bay
Wednesday, 11:37 pm

Rolling over, Nichols counted lumps in the tight cluster around
him. <Ros. Where's Ros? She was keeping watch.> 

About fifty feet into the hillside, the tunnel widened into a
small chamber, so it was there the four had set up their camp.
Since they were sheltered from the worst of the elements, they had
stretched their tent across the chamber entrance as a windbreak
for them to settle behind. After much fussing by Frohike about
carbon monoxide poisoning, they had run their propane grill long
enough to heat a few stones to ring the area with. 

The two Gunmen were huddled close to the side wall of the cave,
furthest from the flapping cloth. But, his partner's bag was
empty, so Nichols lifted aside the canvas, moving towards the
tight cave opening until he spotted her leaning against the south
wall. 

She was watching the ice, but glanced over her shoulder as he
approached, nodding once before turning back to the light. "Sorry,
Nic. I needed some space away from all you manly men." She hugged
herself. 

He shifted a little closer, hoping to transfer a fraction of his
body heat to her. "I know, but this isn't a hiking trip along the
Blue Ridge. You'll get frostbite sitting out here." 

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Da-ad!" 

He rubbed her back, then encircled her shoulders with one arm
momentarily before leaning forward. "You're worried." 

She pulled her hood more tightly closed. "Yeah. You know this is
Franklin Bay." 

He nodded. "The one named after the British guy who tried to find
the Northwest passage, then slowly starved to death with all his
crew when the lead in their canned food drove them insane?" 

"Yes." 

He shook his head. "Don't worry. We won't be here that long." 

Rosen clutched her knees. "I hope not. Um, Nic..." 

Chilled now, he zipped his hood up over his chin. "Ros?" 

She chuckled. "We really do sound like family when we do that." 

He sighed. "The longer you're in law enforcement, the more it will
seem like one, kid." He bent around to smile at her again. "You
work with somebody, put your life in their hands, all with the aim
of preventing harm to people who will never know what you go
through." He wrapped his arms around his calves, attempting to
match her posture. But the incipient arthritis that had been a
problem for him the past year made it a difficult pose, so he
stretched out, hugging himself instead. "If you do your job right,
they'll never know." 

She shook her head. "When you go home, it's like a different
world, isn't it?" 

He nodded. "One where you never really fit in." He glanced over
when she shifted a little closer to him. "That was really the
problem for me and Alicia when I'd lead a really big bust in the
early days. After all the work and the weeks of tension being
undercover, we agents would all go out to have a few beers
afterwards, like it was a victory celebration, only..." 

"You couldn't share that with her." 

Nichols chewed his moustache. "She's a high school English
teacher, so the ones that she couldn't reach fell into my lap,
sometimes." 

Rosen leaned gently into his shoulder. "Which made it worse." 

"As did being undercover when both Jane and Elizabeth were born." 

Rosen picked at the fur lining her gloves. "I hope that doesn't
happen with Cary and me. I hope..." 

When Nichols saw Rosen was biting her lip, he patted her shoulder.
"It's too cold out here. Let's go back with the others, try to
sleep." 

She rubbed her arms, then nodded. "Yeah. We have bigger things to
worry about right now." 

Nichols followed her back to the chamber, knowing they would have
to finish this conversation later.

                            --o-0-o-- 

Survival Shelter
South end of Franklin Bay
Wednesday, 11:54 pm

McConnell leaned back, catching a breath of fresher air as the
Smoking Man lit another Morley, hoping the action would go
unnoticed. The three, seated on canvas stools, were huddled around
a square camp table, waiting out the storm away from the others,
who were sleeping, talking, or listening in the bunks at the far
end of the shelter. 

But the old spy's dark eyes had flitted in his direction, so he
blew the smoke away from him. "At times, I forget. In my youth,
smoking was something that brought men together, not drove them
apart." He waved the white cylinder. "Sharing your cigarette with
a woman was tantamount to a sexual liaison if the emotions were
there." He glanced from one to the other. "Now... What *do* you do
now? No smoking, no red meat. Just leap right into the liaison?" 

As Lindhauer grunted his agreement, McConnell shook his head. "Not
with AIDS. Just share lots of coffee." 

The old man barked. "Not everyone. I was with the other two before
I began the flights up here." He tapped ashes onto a plastic cup
lid. "Not everyone is worried about AIDS." 

Lindhauer stood. "They didn't!" 

One grayed eyebrow arched. "I'm afraid so. You know what this
means." 

McConnell began pacing. "But we need 'Ace'. She's our chief
programmer, head designer, the brains behind so many of the plans
we have for the future. Without her..." 

Falling in step with him, the Smoking Man patted his shoulder. "Of
course you do. Her abilities are essential. The stout fellow, on
the other hand..." 

Lindhauer flanked him. "'Charlie' has more intelligence and common
sense than his appearance gives him credit for." Now he spun the
old man around by his arm. "Don't play mind games with us. We four
are in this together." Lindhauer jabbed him repeatedly in the
chest. "If you and your generation had kept your minds focused on
the Operation, we wouldn't have taken the steps we did to put
ourselves in charge." 

The old spy cocked his eyebrow. "How noble, how courageous, how
self-serving of you to think that. You did it all for the
Organization, did you? Could it not have been that stealing art
was losing its thrill, so you chose to steal power instead? Or
were you too close to being caught, and needed the heavy hand of
the Group to cover up your flagrant disregard for the rest of
humanity?" 

McConnell reached between them to pull them apart. "Look, you two,
we can't shout about this. We have men keeping watch even in the
middle of this storm, so if we argue now, we'll look like fools."
He pushed them both down onto separate chairs, turning to the old
man first. "If 'Charlie' and 'Ace' are happy, I say, good for
them. 'Ace' knows what's important, and he'll follow her lead.
Besides, I thought he was your protégé in the first place?" 

The old spy puffed several times before responding. "Since he was,
I know all his strengths and weaknesses. Especially his
weaknesses." 

Brushing McConnell's hand away, Lindhauer shook his head. "So do
I, and 'Andrew''s right. Your old tricks won't affect us, so just
settle back and let us do the work. After we have these aliens
captured, we'll have a talk with 'Charlie' and 'Ace', see where
things are going with them." He crossed his arms. "We *are* a
different generation, as you say. Relationships aren't the problem
for us they were for you." 

The Smoking Man inclined his torso in a mocking bow. <But the
seeds have been sown, you old devil.> He puffed once. "You may be
right, that it is as you say. Perhaps things have changed." 

Lindhauer and McConnell exchanged a glance, then relaxed
marginally. 

                            --o-0-o--

Ridge
Franklin Bay
Thursday, July 31, 1997
1:37 am

"Mulder?" 

He became gradually aware that someone was rubbing his back, so he
shifted closer to the gentle voice calling him. 

"Mulder, wake up. The three hours are over." 

One long hand emerged from the sleeping bag to rub his face.
"What? Already, Scully? I just fell asleep. You're kidding,
right?" 

She was tugging him upright in an effort to bring him to full
waking, but he flopped forward, face in her lap. "Mulderrrr, nice
try, but..." 

There was a different set of hands on his shoulders now, a deeper
voice calling him. "Mulder, you need to get moving. You were on
the opening side of the tent while you slept. Your arm is like
ice. Come on, wake up." 

Grumbling, the tall man sat up on his own. "Okay, can't you guys
take a joke? I'm fine." He blinked, bringing two relieved-looking
faces into focus. 

Holding out the water bottle, Scully smiled gently. "Here. You
haven't had anything to drink in hours." 

He shot some water into his mouth, then stared at the liquid
sloshing inside, frowning. "It's warm." 

She wrapped her arms around her knees. "I've stowed it in my bag
by my feet to keep it from freezing." 

The winds, which had been a steady whine during their
conversation, shook their little survival tent with a sudden gust. 

Mulder looked from one to the other. "How bad has it been out
there?" 

Langly shrugged. "It's not like we've been outside to check." 

Scully accepted the empty tube he was holding out, reached over
Langly to one of the cubical water containers, and refilled the
bottle. After slipping it down by her feet, she settled in
herself. "You and Langly can argue over which was the greatest
band of the Seventies, Pink Floyd or the Stones. I'm done for the
night." She zipped her bag shut again, relaxing while the two men
eased a little closer to her. "A cave probably would have been
nicer, at that." 

Mulder patted where he knew her shoulder was, then focused on
Langly. "How far had you gotten?" 

The Gunman smiled. "We were comparing the socio-political
significance of "The Wall" to the mirror of Society's oppression
of women as reflected in "Black and Blue". Langly shrugged. "But,
if you'd rather discuss the possible retrial of James Earl Ray,
that's fine with me." 

Wrapping his arms around his knees, Mulder chuckled. "Sounds good.
So what's the latest?" 

A pair of delighted eyes sparkled behind horn-rimmed glasses.
"Well, you and I both know the truth, but the reexamination of the
ballistics evidence *is* fascinating...

                            --o-0-o--

Cave 
Franklin Bay
Wednesday, 4:19 am

"Doctor Dryan, wake up, it's over." 

Rosen lifted her head off the backpack she had appropriated for a
pillow to blink at Frohike. "What? The front's through, already?"
She patted her partner's shoulder. "Nic? We're all right, rise and
shine." 

The older man stretched. "It's clear? Great." He leaned towards
Rosen. "You feeling better?" 

She nodded. 

Frohike took her arm. "I thought you two were gone for a while.
Everything all right?" 

She smiled. "It is, now. I just needed a break from the close
quarters, that was all." 

The Gunman plumped his chest. "We made the good doctor woozy,
surrounded by..." 

She was shaking her head. "That's not the problem, believe me." 

He leaned towards her. "Not even a little?" 

She crossed her arms. "Not at all." 

As her meaning sunk in, the round-faced Gunman sat back on his
heels. "Ooh. Well, that makes two, then." 

Nichols coughed. "Two?" 

His bags stowed, Byers joined them, puzzled that the oldest man
was staring pointedly at his wedding ring. "Not you?" 

The bearded Gunman laughed. "Not me what?" 

Frohike leaned towards him. "I believe our Third Musketeer and
Doctor Dryan share a common lifestyle." 

Smiling at the dark-haired woman, Byers nodded.  "Really? He
prefers we don't make a big deal about it, and after Frohike gave
him one too many safe sex lectures, he doesn't really go out much
anymore." 

Rosen stared at her boots. "I can understand why. I've lost too
many friends myself." She rubbed her hands together. "So, shall we
see what's left of the wide world?" 

The five crawled to the front of the cave in a line, blinking as
they emerged into the low sunlight. The water, which had been ice-
covered when they retreated, was partially open, floes and bergs
distributed in a fan away from the mouth of the bay. 

Rosen sighed. "I was expecting that. The northerly winds had the
pack bottled up here, but with the wind shifting to the south,
especially after the explosions, we should see open water here
until the bergs accumulate from the glaciers at the head of the
bay again." 

Nichols crossed his arms. "I wonder what that means for Mulder and
Scully?" 

                            --o-0-o--

Ridge
Franklin Bay
Wednesday, 4:43 am

"Scully?" 

As she felt the sudden pressure of another body leaning against
her, she shuddered, forcing down a reflex to go for her SIG. 

"Scully? It's me. It's three hours. Langly's turn." 

Stirring, she indulged in a prolonged, noisy yawn that was
answered by sympathetic rumbles to either side of her. "So help
me, Mulder, when I get back home, I'm sleeping for a week." 

His hand still on her shoulder, he smirked. "All alone, Doctor?
That's no fun." 

Pulling herself upright, she felt around in the confining bag for
the water bottle, the two men backing away a little at her
wiggling. "It is for me." She gulped two swigs of water. "So, how
does it look out there?" 

Mulder unzipped the tent. "We're almost in the clear. I'd say the
temperature's back up to freezing again, which is as good as it
gets here." 

Scully rubbed her eyes. "I'd knew I'd pay for those two weeks in
Miami. Great. I need to go find the little girl's rock, guys." 

Mulder pulled the tent flap open slightly. "I think you'll find
there's no shortage of choices out there, Doctor." Rolling out of
his bag and the tent simultaneously, Mulder waited for his partner
to disappear over a slight rise, his hand on his SIG. He kicked at
the cobbles at his feet, turning back to the tent when Langly
emerged. 

"Hey, I think the Doc was right. Which way did she go?" A slight
wave, so the Gunman staggered off in the opposite direction. 

Mulder was left tossing pebbles while he waited. <This is so odd.
No matter where you go further south, there's always a dandelion
or some hardy piece of grass poking through the concrete. But
here.> He scanned the ice-free ridge they had hunkered down
behind, noting that the rocks surrounding them had stained a dark
brown on every exposed surface. All the stones' edges were
rounded, not by flowing water, but by the relentless wind,
carrying sand grains and ice crystals for miles to knock off any
corners. When he felt a light tugging at his elbow, he sent down a
tiny grin for his partner. 

Looking considerable relieved, Scully pushed on his shoulder.
"Your turn." 

Shrugging, he hiked up over the ridge facing the bay. Once he had
answered nature's demands, he scanned the ice below him and froze,
unable to respond to the query Scully called out when her head
appeared over the rise. 

"What's that sound, Mulder? It isn't our visitors, is it?" She
pulled herself over the top, not waiting for Langly once she
realized the tall agent was focused on the pack in front of him. 

Down below them, the ice had broken open, just as it had down
closer to the mouth of the bay. The floes were creaking and
groaning as they rubbed and pushed each other. While the pack
closest to land was still locked in place, there was an ever-
widening region of open water in the center. As they watched, one
large floe close to the silver cylinder broke free, the old ridges
that represented the sutures of previous, smaller floes acting as
sails. Under a steady offshore wind, the drift accelerated, first,
pushing the multiyear floe through a few low bergs, then sweeping
it up into the current in the channel. 

Langly placed his video camera eyepiece against his glasses. "If
this south winds keeps up, it'll all be clear. If our friends
don't get here soon, they'll have to chase their ship as narwhals,
not as bears. Once a big floe is caught in the Beaufort gyre, it
can circle this part of the Arctic Basin for years." 

Grasping his partner's arm, Mulder leaned down to whisper
intensely, "Get your sensor, Scully, in case we have company." 

Scrambling back over the loose rocks, she ducked under the tarp
staked down over their equipment, pulling a grey box free. When
she returned, she knew that Mulder had been right to be anxious. 

A mother bear and cub were circling the silver cylinder, but
shadowing them was a third, larger bear. One edge of the
supporting floe was completely ice-free, and it bobbed under the
weight of the craft resting on it. 

Langly had dropped onto the cobbles, keeping a low profile. 

Scully pulled her partner down as well. "Mulder, they'll *see*
you!" 

Nodding, he stretched out beside her. 

One quick pass of the sensor towards the sun, then in the
direction of the three animals, and Scully sighed. "It's them." 

As they watched, the two larger bears met, touched noses, then
rose up on their hind legs. They towered over the cub, but barely
reached the height of the center of the craft. The need for
disguise over, each of the three began to change, darkening,
shrinking, and peeling back from around something in their
centers. First, a metallic corner protruded from the stomach of
the large male, then, a steel box, clearly labeled as 'Do Not
Open', popped out onto the ice. Two others followed. The 'female'
expelled a container covered with markings none of the humans
recognized. 

Both agents turned when they heard the soft humming of a video
camera. 

Noticing he was the focus of their attentions, Langly shrugged.
"We have to take back some proof, Mulder." 

The three returned to observing. 

The aliens were continuing to change. What had once been the male
and mother bear were uncoiling from around two humanoid forms,
which were recognizable immediately as the two Samanthas. The
women lay on the ice, wiggling and reanimating limbs pressed
tightly against their sides. The cub, too, had grown, changing
until he was the slight, balding man the three recognized. 

Mulder leaned over to whisper to his partner, "I'll lay odds this
ship has been rigged to blow up on take-off. We should warn them."
With that, he was over the rim, waving his arms and shouting. 

Scully slid down the slope behind him. "Mulder! Stop!" 

Since the Samanthas were still regaining feeling in their legs,
the later alien visitors turned, watching the humans approach. The
Bounty Hunter stood out in front of the craft, passing the
contents of his box to the rest of his crew. The others, who
looked for all intents and purposes like Aurora Luminens and
Luther, passed their hands over a spot on the corner of the
vessel, waiting until an opening emerged. 

As the agents approached them, the hulking man grew until he
towered a good foot over Mulder. "Why have you come here? We only
wish to leave." 

Mulder shook his head. "You don't understand, it's a set-up. The
Consortium members have probably rigged this, or shoved explosives
in the ice underneath, as they did with the dummy craft." 

The alien snarled, "What do we care for your puny traps? This
vehicle could survive a close fly-by of a supernova." He hoisted
the box with the silicon-eating Archaeon. "I thank you for
delivering these right to us. You will be remembered fondly as the
savior of your species." 

Scully frowned. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted to
exterminate us as a pollution to this planet?" 

The alien who had been Aurora emerged. "Not at all, Agent Scully.
You are a natural part of this world, simply out of balance with
the rest of it. When we work out how to hobble your technology
with our little prize, we will be back." 

Angry now, Mulder glared at her. "But without modern agriculture,
billions will die!" 

The Bounty Hunter passed Aurora the box. "We do not work through
senseless destruction. Temporarily crippling your technology would
be a means of focusing attention on the underlying problem
plaguing your planet, your excessive population." Returning to the
two Samanthas, he helped them to their feet, then, guiding each by
the arm, ushered them inside the vessel. 

Luther took up the explanation. "You see, your species can reduce
its numbers either through increasing deaths, or decreasing
births. You simians have a tendency to unthinking promiscuity, but
let us say your couplings are unproductive, or produce radically
fewer offspring, for two hundred orbits of your star. Then your
population would fall back to a sustainable numbers and the
pollution of the air and water would become a more tractable
problem. Likewise, the rapid extinction rate on your world would
drop." 

One of the Samanthas stepped out, taking her place at his side.
"It is not an unsustainable goal, as our experiment in Steveston
proved. We duplicated everything about the adults of your species
in our bodies: your respiration rates, your metabolisms, and your
waste production. We lived comfortably for nearly a century, with
minimal technology, by producing our own food, and a small
commercial product that we could either sell, or, in a collapsed
economy, barter." 

Scully shook her head. "Earlier, you told us you were waiting for
us to kill ourselves off, so you could take over the planet." 

The female laughed. "That was poor communication on our part. We
*expect* that your species will destroy itself through wars or
overpopulation, given your past, before we return. We, too, are
expanding, not as warriors, but as caretakers, guardians, if you
like. Our numbers here would only be in accord with ecological
balance, which is why we constantly seek new habitable worlds.
Whether your species remains on this planet, or destroys itself
through internal divisions, is entirely up to you. We would take
over just long enough to institute corrective measures, should you
not have found a way to achieve that equilibrium in our absence.
If you do, however, we would be the first to hail yours as an
advanced race, fit for commerce with the rest of the civilized
beings of the universe." She looked up to the Bounty Hunter,
clicking and whistling to him in a clearly commanding tone. 

After the aliens disappeared into the darkness, and as the Agents
watched, the opening began to seal, to solidify. But before the
vessel was completely whole, a flaming missile shot inside,
followed quickly by two others. The resulting explosions threw
Mulder and Scully back across the ice, to land on the small berg
beside the massive floe on which the silver craft lay. 

Off in the distance, Langly heard the whine of approaching
engines. He ran down the slope towards Mulder and Scully, who were
still unconscious from the explosions. As he approached them,
Mulder was beginning to awaken, to search around for his partner,
so Langly knelt beside her, feeling for a pulse at her neck with
two fingers. 

Mulder called out for the one person he trusted. "Scully!" 

The Gunman moved over to help him stand. "She's just knocked out,
Mulder, she'll be fine. But the forces of the Empire will be here
in a few minutes, and we really don't have anywhere to hide." 

The Agent scanned the surrounding area, trying to work out a plan.
After noting that the berg they were on, ten feet across the
widest section of its exposed surface, was jammed between two
larger floes, he grunted, "You hear any helicopters?" 

"No." 

Holding his right arm against his side, Mulder staggered over to
the wedged-in corner. "Good, then if we can push ourselves free,
the current can carry us away from them before they arrive." He
plopped onto the ice, pushing at the entrapping floes with his
boots. Langly began rocking what they hoped to turn into their
raft, until, with much groaning and crunching, it began working
its way loose. The whine of the engines was closer now, and the
two men watched as continuous-track vehicles rolled along the
ridge towards them and the silver cylinder. Scully was beginning
to awaken, so Mulder crossed the berg to her, kneeling to lift her
head. 

Langly kept track of the approaching forces. "I wonder why they
aren't shooting?" He had his answer when another missile entered
the craft, throwing more debris onto the ice. He covered his head
as the container with the Archaeon flew over them, landing not
five feet from him. 

Mulder grunted while crouching over his partner. "Langly, you
okay?" 

The Gunman sat up. "Yeah, I'm fine. That last shock was all it
took. We're moving into the main current now." 

Mulder glanced around to see that there were probably ten feet of
water between them and the floe with the silver cylinder. The
Consortium teams were swarming around the craft, some carrying the
aliens out of the wrecked vehicle in containment chambers. 

Scully sat up, gasping, leaning on her partner while she came to
full awareness. "So much for our promise to Skinner." 

Mulder sent her a cock-eyed grin. <If she can joke, she'll live.>
Sliding behind Scully, he supported her weight by pressing his
chest against her back. "How are you?" She felt her legs, then
patted her side, wincing as she ran one hand over her left
ribcage. "Broken?" 

Her sigh was all the answer he needed. "Probably. How about you?" 

He grunted. "Nothing a day or two of sleep won't cure." Mulder
tried rotating his right arm, gasping at the effort. "Maybe more
than two." 

Langly was kneeling over them. "We may be insignificant to the
powers that be, but we have another problem here, guys." He
pointed back at the alien craft. "Our tent, supplies, and radio
are over there, and the current is pushing us out to sea. At least
we won't be captured by *them*, but we can't just assume we'll
float by the others and they'll be able to pull us to safety." 

Glancing over at his partner, Mulder nodded. "So, what do you
suggest?" 

Scully pushed herself to her feet. "The ice is moving, but those
last explosions broke loose so much of it we can jump from floe to
floe, if we're careful. We need to begin crossing the pack now,
before we're pulled too far into the open water, so we can reach
the west shore and circle back to our tent." She leapt from the
berg they were standing on to the smaller one to its left, landing
heavily before she rolled onto her side. "We have to stay as dry
as we can, since to get wet up here..." 

Langly pushed at the metal box with his foot. "But what do we do
with this?" 

As a response, Mulder dumped the contents into the swirling water,
waiting for the vitreous chunks to sink out of sight, then sent
the box to the bottom of the bay. "They may survive the cold, but
up here, they won't dissolve the teeth of anything more than
seals, whales, and bears." 

Langly grinned. "Oh my! Let's follow Dorothy, shall we?" He pushed
on the tall agent, who flung himself across the widening gap
between himself and his partner. Langly leapt over the space
easily, but dropped one glove in the water in the process. 

They continued steadily crossing from one floe to the next, any
exposed skin that touched the ice reddening on contact. 

Once in the center of the bay, Mulder stopped, breathing hard as
they drifted faster towards the north and the open sea, the floes
and bergs further apart. "Well, this is where it gets rough." He
looked down at his partner, who was gauging the distance the
nearest ice floe. "That too long a jump for you?" 

Her lips pressed tightly together, she shook her head. "I just
need a running start." She backed to the far edge of the floe,
accelerating from a trot to a slow jog, then flung herself over,
landing badly, one leg sliding into the water as she scrambled for
a grip. 

His fears for her driving him, Mulder threw himself over the water
with Langly just behind him. "Scully!" 

But she had pulled herself to safety by the time they arrived. She
grunted, more from the exertion than the pain. "I'm okay, Mulder.
We're not finished yet." 

There was no more discussion, the three of them concentrating on
picking the easiest path, until they had reached the land-locked
ice on the west side of the bay. 

A strangled sound, a cross between a grunt and a whoop, escaped
from Mulder's lips. "That's it, we're across." 

Langly could tell the Agents were exhausted by the effort, but
worse yet, Mulder had broken out in a sweat from enduring the pain
of his injuries. 

Scully sank onto an exposed rock at the iceline. "Give me a minute
here, guys." Her lips were blue, and she was shivering in an
attempt to warm herself. 

Her partner was bent over beside her, guarding her instinctively. 

Langly wrapped one arm around Scully's waist to set her quickly on
her feet, before Mulder's protectiveness killed all of them. "We
have to keep moving, Doc, or we'll freeze to death. The
temperatures have dropped and we have to make it back to our
shelter and the radio if it's still there, so, let's go." 

Gritting her teeth, she concentrated on following the Gunman's
parka, as he guided them steadfastly into the wind, and straight
back to their tent. 

                            --o-0-o--

Cave
Franklin Bay
Thursday, 5:11 am

"Byers?" Nichols grasped his shoulder. "Let's see about getting
that radio powered up. We've been snug in there, with the tent and
all, but the others were exposed to the brunt of the weather." 

Slipping back into the opening, the men returned with the black
transmitter box. Rosen and Frohike joined them. 

The dark-haired agent touched her partner's shoulder. "Anything?"
They listened as Byers called for an answer, but received none, so
the two agents excused themselves to speak in private. "Nic, I can
reach them on foot in a hour over this terrain, moving at a trot,
no more." She held up her hands. "No sweat, literally. You know
that." 

Nichols nodded. "I know, I just don't like it, Ros. They may be
hurt, or the receiver may be busted, then you'll have to come
right back here. Who knows how many men are waiting at the actual
craft to attempt to take the aliens into custody." 

She was arguing vigorously when the others joined them. 

Byers stood beside her. "You have to let her try, Agent Nichols.
It may be the only way..." 

The older man submitted, attempting a small joke. "The flaws of a
democracy. I see I'm outvoted three to one." 

They returned to the cave, outfitting the slender woman with an
many supplies as she could comfortably carry, then waved her off. 

Nichols crossed his arms. "Go like the wind, kid." 

                            --o-0-o--

Ridge
Franklin Bay
Thursday, 6:23 am

Mulder stumbled on the loose slate they were crossing, falling to
his bruised knees one more time. He shivered, resisting Scully's
attempts to pull him to his feet. "Hurts." 

Catching his tight-lipped smile, the auburn-haired woman sank
beside him. "I know. But, Langly's right, we have to keep moving,
we're not that far away, Mulder. Come on!" 

As she purposely tugged the right arm, the pain from the broken
collarbone jolted him, and when his head cleared, he stood,
following silently. 

The Gunman was several yards ahead on a rise. "I see it! They left
the tent alone!" 

It was the boost the agents needed, so they scrabbled down the
cliff after him, all three coming to a halt ten yards from the
orange shelter. 

Mulder was gasping. "It might be a trap. Look for wires." 

They circled, seeking explosives or evidence of disturbed stones. 

Finally, Scully fell to her hands in front of the tent, lowering
the zipper. "It's okay. I think they were only interested in the
aliens." 

At her words, Langly scrambled up the ridge, digging into a pile
of stones. "It's here, Mulder, we have proof!" He was holding the
camera aloft, then stopped, his eyes focused on the horizon. "The
cavalry is coming, hang on, guys!" He had spotted Rosen, jogging
over the rocks with an indifferent ease, until she glimpsed the
shouting figure, then she broke into a run. 

Spent, Mulder reached into the tent, seeking the water he knew was
in Scully's sleeping bag. 

The diminutive woman remained standing only long enough for the
younger agent to reach them. "Rosen." 

The dark-haired woman nodded. "We're fine, Scully. Let me at your
radio, okay?" 

As the older woman crawled in, she passed the black receiver out,
gasping when the weight pulled on her ribs. 

Rosen spoke quickly to reassure her. "You'll be all right. Nic and
the others will have Baird on the way. Get some rest." 

Scully nodded blankly as she tore off her wet boots, sliding her
swollen feet into her sleeping bag, offering silent thanks when
Rosen zipped it up around her. 

After a moment's thought, the Gunman had bent down to unlace
Mulder's boots and guide him into his bag. "Hey, Mulder, let me
help you with that." But Langly left him free to pull the bedding
up around his shoulders himself. 

Rosen bent over the transmitter. "Nichols? Byers? Frohike?" She
increased the transmit power. "Anybody hear me out there?" 

There was a burst of static, then a welcome reply, "How does it
looks at your end, partner?" 

She grinned. "Nic! They're here at the tent." She glanced back at
the two exhausted agents. "I think they had a run-in with more
than just the aliens, but they'll be okay, once they see a
doctor." 

Langly took the mike from her. "Only a broken bone here and there.
Just contact Baird so he can bring the plane and everything will
be fine." 

Langly's joyful protests at the other agents' praise were the last
thing Scully remembered, before the rushing in her ears drowned
out any other sounds. 

                            --o-0-o--

Queens Hospital
Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada
Saturday, August 2, 1997
9:21 am 

Mulder's lashes fluttered, then he spoke a single word, "Scully."
Remembering he had a vague sense she was beside him after his
collapse, he began groping around the bed, feeling a sudden
blinding pain in his right shoulder. 

"Hey, don't do that." A hand, small and cool, landed on his arm.
"She's okay. She's in the bed right next to you, Mulder, still
asleep." 

He focused on a woman's face, seemingly hanging in space before
him. "Rosen?" Rolling onto his side, away from the pain, he
muttered, "How? Where are the others?" He glanced over at his
partner, who was, as promised, resting, facing him on her side,
her eyes closed. Mulder began to pull the covers back, to slide
off the bed to cross over to her, but found himself in a heap on
the floor instead. 

Rosen slipped her arm around his back. "Frohike warned me about
your homing instinct, Mulder. We had to go up to the hospital
administrator, all five of us. Byers and Langly convinced him that
if you two weren't in sight of each other when you woke up, he'd
have to replace his entire staff by the end of the week from you
fussing about it. Here, let me help you." She guided him across
the room, supporting him while he touched his partner's face,
stroked her hair. 

"Scully." It was a prayer, a call, and a blessing, all at once. 

If she could, the younger woman would have left them alone, since
the auburn-haired agent was only in a lightest sleep. But, the
tall man was working at the limits of what his body could handle,
and he didn't need to be put though any more hoisting and tugging. 

Rosen rested her hand on his back. "Can you lean on the bed?" 

Gritting his teeth, he nodded. 

"I'm sliding over my chair." 

For a few desperate moments, Mulder forced himself to stand,
waiting through what seemed an eternity before he felt a light
pressure on the back of his calves. "Thanks." He settled down,
reaching for his partner's fingers with his left hand, the one not
bound in place by his partial body cast. 

Rosen walked around the bed, moving into his view. "If you're
interested, Scully broke two ribs on her left side, and you've
fractured your right clavicle and scapula." 

Mulder blinked, tearing his eyes from his partner's face. "The
alien vessel?" 

She shrugged. "It's just a burned-out hulk, no good to them or
anyone else. They're trapped here, just like the rest of us. The
Gunmen are back in DC analyzing Langly's tape, attempting to
enhance the few shots of the interior he caught." 

Mulder sighed. "It was all for nothing, then. We don't have the
Archaeon, the aliens are in the hands of the Consortium, probably
dead by now, and the Shadows have regrouped, more than likely
under the control of our cigarette-smoking friend." 

Returning to his side, Rosen grinned. "No, Mulder, you don't
understand. It was only the Samanthas the Consortium pulled from
the wreckage. Langly buried the camera, but left the lens exposed
and pointed at the craft. Three seals were videoed leaving the
vessel, slipping back into the ocean." She stepped closer, resting
her hand on his shoulder. "He was using the UV sensitive film, so
we know the crew survived, they're free." 

Mulder's eyes glinted. <I can still get to Sam through them.> He
leaned over his sleeping partner, as if shielding her. "So it's
not over yet, is it?" 

Rosen nodded as she headed for the door. "I think it's just begun.
I'll be at what passes for a hotel up here, catching up on my
sleep. The number's on your nightstand by the phone, should you
need us, and Nic will be here to take over in an hour or so. In
the meantime, we have two fine specimens from the RCMP, guarding
the building." 

Smirking, Mulder called out to her, "I'll be sure to pass that
information on to the good doctor when she joins us." He sobered.
"You did good, Rosen. Having fun yet?" 

She smiled to acknowledge the compliment, then regarded him
somberly. "Graduate school was *never* like this." 

As the door closed, Scully stirred from her sleep, prodded by her
partner's incessant rubbing of his thumb against her hand. 

Mulder leaned forward, freed now to focus completely on her.
"Hey." 

She smiled, that broad, radiant grin that dimpled her cheeks and
set his eyes dancing. 

"You're awake." 

She swallowed twice before responding. "Did the good guys win?" 

He chewed his lip before he replied, "For right now. We have a lot
of catching up to do, Scully, after we catch up." He touched his
cast.

She pushed herself upright. "Tell me, Mulder, I have to know." She
reached for the pitcher of water and the plastic glass, as did he,
but it was on his right side, so she lifted it first, pouring,
drinking, then offering him some. She leaned back, arranging the
covers neatly.

He gently closed his fingers around her palm. "Then sit still and
let me fill you in." 

                            --o-0-o--

Great Northern Hotel
Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada
Saturday, 10:21 am 

Nichols opened his door, poking his head out, one hand on the
doorknob, the other on the frame. "Ros? That you?" He had heard
footsteps, then the sound of soft consternation before Rosen
walked up to him from the adjacent room. 

"I was in such a hurry to make it to the hospital, I left my keys
on my bed. I can be so stupid sometimes." 

Smiling, he stepped aside. "Come on. We'll call the clerk to open
it for you." 

Still angry with herself, Rosen shook her head, but he took her by
the elbow to guide her in, still protesting her failures angrily.
"Nic, you have to go to the hospital! I'll just walk you to the
front desk." 

Refusing to release her until he had guided her over to the single
chair in his room, he stood, waiting for her to sit. "Ros, don't
beat yourself up over small mistakes like that. You're tired,
suffering from exposure and a little bit dehydrated. After you get
into your room, take a long, hot bath and get some rest." 

She crossed her arms. "But, what if I forget something small in
the future, and it costs someone their life? Mulder, or Scully,
or, you?" She gazed up at him. 

He sat on the bed across the narrow aisle from her. "Don't obsess
about it. You have the makings of a good agent, you just need
seasoning." He rose. "Um, if you don't mind my suggesting this..." 

Rosen frowned. "What?" 

He stepped to his left, glancing out the window nervously. 

"What can I do, Nic?" 

He resumed his seat across from her.

"Take some personal time when we get back to DC. Get in touch with
Cary. You two need to keep your connections open between you, not
let the job split you up like it did Alicia and me." He held up
both hands. "Don't worry about Mulder and Scully. Not only will
they understand, they'll both be out of commission for field duty
for a month, at least. I'll run interference with Skinner if
someone has to, but truth be told, his marriage has had its ups
and downs too." 

"But, Skinner doesn't have to know..." 

He shook his head. "No, he doesn't. No one has to know until you
want them to, and if I only say you've gone to spend time with
your SO, Cary, who will?" 

She grinned. "Thanks." She pushed his shoulder. "Come on, there,
Dad, I'll walk you out." 

Nichols rolled his eyes, speaking to the ceiling. "Dad. My partner
calls me Dad." He dramatically covered his heart with both hands.
"What a blow to the limping ego of a soon-to-be divorced man." 

Laughing, she waited in the hall while he pointedly checked for
his keys, before he closed his door. 

                            --o-0-o--

Queens Hospital
Inuvik, Northwest Territories, Canada
Saturday, 9:57 pm 

Scully shivered, then opened her eyes. "Mulder?" 

The bed across the room was empty, and a quick dip of her head
told her the bathroom was as well. Her Muldersensors had kicked
in, since the nurses had, for the present, decided to give their
room a wide berth. <Right on schedule, too.> Every hospital stay
of her partner's seemed to follow this pattern. The female staff
would initially flock to his room, attracted by his dark, floppy
hair, equally dramatic lashes, and boyish face. Then, there would
be this pointed avoidance, and Scully was fairly sure she knew
why.

<Yes, he woke up. Now, where are you, Mulder? This hospital is so
tiny...> Scully focused her attention on a commotion in the hall.
<Oh, right.> Tugging the white lab coat one of the orderlies had
lent her over her hospital gown, she stepped into the brightly-lit
corridor. As she had expected, Mulder was frowning at the three
night nurses, all of whom were imploring him to return to his bed.
But, at her approach, they dispersed rapidly, sending her glances
of infinite gratitude. 

"Scully?" Using the hand rail to pull him along, he worked his way
over to her. "You didn't have to get up." He attempted a shrug. "I
was just walking off the pain in my shoulder." Mulder waggled his
hand at the nurses' station. "They don't understand..." 

Smiling, she closed her left arm around her waist, reaching with
her right hand for his wrist to give it a gentle shake. "And here
I thought I was rescuing you from your adoring public." She leaned
towards him. "Come back to bed, Dah-link." 

Grinning, he followed her into their room, passing in front of the
old-style steel hospital frames to stand by the window. "How long
do you think we can avoid Skinner when we get back?" 

After a moment, she joined him there, leaning against the stark
white wall. "About five seconds. I'm surprised he hasn't called to
harass you yet. But, at least, this time we have enough evidence
to support whatever we tell him." 

Mulder nodded. "I know. In fact, we have enough back-up footage to
shoot a movie to go along with the report." Glancing down at his
cast, he sighed. "We'll just have to take more precautions with
the Shadows, next time around." 

She touched his back, rubbing where the cast had chafed his skin.
"And we'll have to factor in the aliens. If they're still out
there, they'll probably take a more active role in human events,
to try to push our population down, one way or another." 

Mulder nodded. "We'll be okay, Scully." Reaching towards her, he
tucked her under his good arm for a moment, then released her.
"Whatever happens, with the people we have working with us, we're
closer to the Truth than we've ever been before." 

Settling lightly against his side, she joined him in quiet
contemplation of the snow-covered hills ringing the town. "I'm
sure we will." 

"Ow." 

Surprised at his exclamation, she looked over as Mulder shifted
away from her. "Do you need some painkillers?" 

Rubbing under the front of his cast, he sent her a tiny,
apologetic smile. <I'll be fine.> 

The gesture elicited a frown from his too-knowing partner.
<Right.> 

His impishness taking sudden hold of his nature, he leaned close
to her ear. "Did I hear you say *if* just now, Doctor?" 

She stiffened, then raised her chin to shoot him a playful glare.
"Mulderrrr."

                            --FINIS--

                             ARCHAEA

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

And now what rests but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
Sound drums and trumpets! Farewell sour annoy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.

     The Third Part of King Henry VI

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

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

Many thanks to all those folks who wrote, asking me when my next
story would be coming out. Without your encouragement, I can
honestly say this would never have been finished. Special
gratitude, as always, to Adina and Michelle, for many, many
messages from far away. Thanks also to Matt Weed for his technical
advice and his patience, and JohnBear for an excellent formatting
suggestion.

I was planning on ending this little adventure with a detailed
description of all the advances in microbial studies in the past
few years. But, it's late, so I won't. Let me just say that this
was a lot of fun to write, because I ended up researching the
Domain Archaea and the geology of the Cascades, and I learned some
new things. The discoveries about microbial life are flying out of
the journals thick and fast, so I would await each of my issues of
"Science" eagerly. Many of the facts and names you encountered
reading this story were published there during the past few
months. BTW, as far as I know, the capability to drill to the
depths required to reach the ocean-basin volcanics under the
Cascades is still science fiction, as is the discovery of life
that far down in the crust. But who knows? Perhaps there is a
rock-eating Archaeon waiting to be discovered. 

I will, however, recommend that those of you who are interested
check out the on-line version of the journal "Science" at
http://www.sciencemag.org/. It's a great way to keep up with the
latest in many fields of research, not the least being life in
extreme environments, and the reclassification of all life into
the new domains. 

Also, the section titles are species names, not of any new
Archaea-bacteria, but of fossils from that great puzzle of
paleontology, the Burgess Shale. Steven Jay Gould's 1989 work,
"Wonderful Life", is a very accessible introduction to all those
odd little invertebrates, with wonderful, detailed line drawings.
Anomalocaris canadensis can best be described as a soft-bodied
fish with what look like two shrimp extending from its mouth. It
was mis-identified several times (as a crustacean without a head,
or a jellyfish, or a squashed sheet) before it was reconstructed
properly and given its own genus. Branchiocaris pretiosa was a
bivalved arthropod (like a sea scallop) with four little legs
sticking off its head that it used to shove food in its mouth, but
none underneath. It swam on two long rows of fins, like an aquatic
millipede. 

Fact is always stranger than fiction, folks, but here comes the
doozy: Hallucigenia sparsa. It's like nothing on earth, so
different (a worm with two rows of spines along one side, and two
rows of soft appendages along the other, with no obvious mouth or
eyes), that it's been flipped over and over, using alternately the
spines or the soft legs for locomotion. I've seen the fossils when
they came to the Smithsonian in a special exhibition and I
couldn't tell you what it was either. Pikaia gracilens was the
first chordate (had a nerve bundle running down its back), and was
the first life "like us" on the planet. 

Finally, I close with a quote from what turned out to be the last
of Carl Sagan's books: "The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a
Candle in the Dark". In the following, he lays out what "The X-
Files" could have been, but isn't, and what I tried to make my
expanded X-Files section in this story into: a true marriage of
skepticism and wonder (pp. 305-306). 

     "No one can be entirely open or completely skeptical.
     We must all draw the line somewhere...Responsible,
     thoroughgoing, rigorous skepticism requires a hard-
     nosed habit of thought that takes practice and
     training to master. Credulity - I think a better word
     here is "openness" or "wonder" - does not come easily
     either. If we really are to be open to
     counterintuitive ideas on physics or social
     organization or anything else, we must grasp those
     ideas. It means nothing to be open to those
     propositions we don't understand. 
     
     "Both skepticism and wonder are skills that need
     honing and practice. Their harmonious marriage within
     the mind of every schoolchild ought to be a principal
     goal of public education. I'd love to see such a
     domestic felicity portrayed in the media, television
     especially: a community of people working the mix -
     full of wonder, generously open to every notion,
     dismissing nothing except for good reason, but at the
     same time, and as second nature, demanding stringent
     standards of evidence - and those standards applied
     with at least as much rigor to what they hold dear as
     to what they are tempted to reject with impunity."
     
     Write if you feel inspired or are infuriated. I answer all mail
eventually, and I learn as much from suggestions for improvement
from my readers as I hope they do from me.

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

Originally released to ATXC beginning: 4/1/97

Corrected and revised for POV shifts
with some content changes: 6/23-24/97

Second revision: 3/26/98-3/29/98

Third revision (minor): 2/8/99-2/13/99

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