Futures Past 09: From the Ashes
Arvy
DISCLAIMER
None of these characters belong to me, and like so many
worthy people before me, I'm only borrowing them for a short
while. All characters referred to herein belong to CC, or 1013,
or Fox, or Rysher, or Paramount, or Pocket Books, whoever owns
the rights to them.
Author's Notes
Now that I've satisfied my yen to write a Voyager piece, I'm
going to go back to the present. Sort of. Since this is also a
Star Trek: The Next Generation crossover, I'm going to be jumping
back and forth between the timelines, and hopefully the story
will parallel somewhat.
As I've said previously, this series veers off from X-files
canon immediately after season 5, and before the movie. Timeline
wise, the current events in this story are set sometime during
what would be the sixth season of the X-files, around Dec 1998.
The future events are set about three months after All Good
Things (TNG finale), between the DS9 episode, The Search, where
the identity of the Founders is revealed, and Voyager's first
episode, Caretaker.
Finally, this extra long piece of work, which also took
close to forever to get done (Xaz needed extra coffee near the
end;) is dedicated to all you great fans who kept writing me
while I stumbled through the story. Your subtle ;} nudges were
just the incentive I needed to get this done already. So here's
to y'all. I hope you enjoy this.
As always, any missing parts can be found at my website at
http://www.bigfoot.com/~unmai or at gossamer or seventh-dimension
once they update. Send feedback to unmai@bigfoot.com, let me know
what you thought. Meanwhile, l'histoire awaits...
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Futures Past 09:
From the Ashes
by Arvy
The Milky Way
The Archean Eon
Approx. 4 billion years ago
They had many names.
Future generations of space explorers would call them the
Preservers. Several races had synonymous descriptions for them,
including such appellations as the Wise ones, the First Ones,
etc.
They were explorers, charting and colonizing a major portion
of what would one day be known as the Milky Way galaxy. They were
scientists, capable of the most astounding achievements,
inventing ways and means to bend the laws of space and time to
suit their purposes. They were architects, the worlds they
occupied sporting beauteous monuments, a testament to their
prowess, causing all who looked upon them to exclaim at the
wondrous sight they beheld. They were artists, and artisans,
their work praised and revered by their people throughout the
known galaxy.
They were dying.
And there were no other races, no other beings to share in
their wondrous achievements. No others to learn from them, to
teach them. No others who might know, who might understand them.
No one who might remember them after they were gone.
The project was launched with the utmost haste. Once they
realized what was happening to them, not that they fully
understood the final ramifications of the changes, they wasted no
time in putting together the most massive preservation effort in
their lonely history. Countless solar systems were seeded with
their DNA, with the basic molecules that defined their very
existence. And within these molecules, these protein chains, they
encoded a message. For their children. A message for their
progeny, so they might one day come together, traversing the
reaches of space to solve the puzzle. A message of peace and
goodwill, in the hope that one day they might know, might
remember their common genetic ancestry.
Then they changed.
And waited.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
This particular solar system was not unlike countless
others. The explorers had found among the planets the requisite
gas giant, the frozen iceball, the blazing furnace of molten rock
orbiting too near the system's sun. But, unlike most systems,
there was not just one but two planets capable of supporting
life.
Had they more time, they might have delved deeper into the
planets' ecology, might have more precisely determined the long
term effects of their actions. The third planet posed no problem.
Their seeds took root, combining readily with the already forming
carbon based biological matrix. On the fourth planet, however,
their actions caused something they had not expected, hadn't
foreseen.
The existing biological matrix on the planet was silicon
based, not carbon. With the addition of carbon based DNA into the
matrix, the resulting lifeforms were a unique combination of the
two. Composites, ones that evolved with characteristics of both,
yet neither. There were the requisite lifeforms, the single
celled organisms, the bacteria, the viruses, the most simple ones
that formed first.
Evolution continued, but something happened as the first
multicellular organisms came into being. A cosmic phenomenon not
uncommon, as stellar phenomena went. Something similar would
happen to the third planet in the far future, although not with
such terrible severity, or with such widespread devastation.
The comet slammed into the fourth planet with enough force
to completely destroy any chance for the existing lifeforms to
evolve any further. Entire oceans vanished, the biosphere
irrevocably shattered. The cloud of ash and red dust hung over
the planet for millennia. The only living things that survived
the disaster, the emergent multicellular life, a hardy virus that
had somehow evolved to survive even such harsh conditions, lay
dormant within several pieces of rock that were thrown clear of
the planet's gravity due to the collision.
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Tunguska Region, Siberia, Earth
Tuesday, June 30, 1908
6:53 AM
The wind died down.
The entire tundra woodland froze, almost as if its denizens
knew what was about to occur. Even the flow of the Lower Tunguska
river seemed unnaturally still. The herd of reindeer moved back
from the water, pushing among themselves, moving restlessly,
almost as if they were being stalked by an unseen predator. They
could feel the change in the air, but their limited intelligence
couldn't ascribe a cause to the sensations. Their instincts
warned them to run, but their senses couldn't provide a direction
to run towards or away from.
When it finally came, the fireball created shock waves that
could be felt more than 400 miles away. The explosion caused
thermal currents that set entire tracts of woodland afire. The
resulting mushroom cloud and 'black rain' that followed inflicted
an undiagnosable disease on several reindeer herds in proximity
to the area. Of the herd directly below the explosion, however,
and of much of the indigenous animal and plant life, there was no
sign after the event, so severe was the destruction.
The remoteness of the area caused it to remain unencroached
upon for another 19 years. When Russian scientists finally
mounted an expedition to visit the slowly recovering region, they
did not find any meteorite fragments; none had survived the
terrific explosion of the meteor crash. What they also did not
find were the newly awakened lifeforms that had seeped into the
rock.
They had already claimed several herds of reindeer and
various other fauna during the initial incident. However, the
dearth of new life to infect soon killed off the few organisms
that remained above ground. The only remaining ones, those that
had successfully buried themselves into the rock, waited
patiently. After all, they had already done so for millennia.
What was another half century.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Tunguska gulag, Siberia
Thursday, May 31, 1979
7:03 AM
The light fell across his face, rousing him from the slight
stupor. He didn't dare allow himself any deeper rest. He had
heard the screams, every night since he'd been brought here. He
had tried to shut them out the first few times, but they were
slowly driving him insane. He had come to ignore them, had come
to care less and less about his fellow prisoners. He simply
prayed he would not be next.
He had the singular honor of being one of the first
prisoners to be interned in the gulag since it had been
constructed almost two years ago. Piotr Vorshin, tried,
convicted, and exiled to this wasteland for crimes against the
people, pushed the stringy blond hair out of his eyes as he got
up to get ready for the daily tasks. First would come the
cockroach infested breakfast, although it would be a miracle if
he was able to keep any of it down. Then, the march along with
the other prisoners to the quarry, where they were to dig up more
of the black rock.
He did not know what it was, although he knew it was
dangerous. A prisoner had cut himself on one of the rocks. He had
cried out, and in front of the other prisoners, he had started
seizing uncontrollably. Piotr and a handful of others had rushed
to his side, hoping to get him to his feet before the guards
arrived.
And they found death.
The blackness swam in the man's eyes as he stared blankly at
the sky. There were tiny worm like creatures crawling under his
skin, worms that made Piotr's very skin crawl just thinking about
them. They had fallen back with a cry, many of them crossing
themselves in fear. Then the guards arrived.
Piotr shuddered as he tucked away the memory. It would not
do to lose control like that. He had to be careful when he began
his work in the quarry. Never touch the actual rock, he repeated
to himself quietly as he shuffled to the corner of his little
cell, waiting for the guards to open the door.
When the door swung open, he saw the shadow fall across the
room. Instead of the usual guards, the bald man with the glasses
glanced at him, then gestured to the men at his side. They strode
in, each grabbing one of Piotr's arms, pulling him out into the
corridor behind the bald man in the doctor's smock.
Piotr struggled, to no avail. He didn't know what was going
to happen to him. But he had heard the screams. He silently
wondered if he could provoke the guards into killing him before
he had to endure what was in store for him.
But they were too strong. He was dragged into a small
laboratory, where the doctor pulled out a syringe filled with a
sickeningly yellow liquid. Without a word, the needle was thrust
into his arm, the contents emptied into his bloodstream.
Beyond the slight sting, he could barely feel any pain. In
fact, his arm was starting to become numb. Before he could say a
word, he felt the darkness surrounding him as he lost
consciousness.
He awoke to the feel of metal wire on his face. He couldn't
turn his head. There was what felt like chicken wire covering
him, confining him to the table he lay upon. He waited a few
moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then realized he
wasn't alone. There had to be at least a dozen other tables
similar to his in the dark room.
He saw movement above him. The pipe that ended a few feet
above his head started shaking. He squinted to get a better view,
his eyes widening at what came out of the pipe. He struggled,
shaking against his restraints, but they held fast. The first few
spatters fell on his chin and neck, then a bigger black mass
directly onto his face. He could feel the worms working their way
into his body, through his nose, his mouth, his ears, his eyes.
He could feel them crawling around inside.
And he knew without doubt that his eyes were no longer
clear. The darkness claimed him again, a more complete darkness
this time.
The screams began...
... and in the cell two floors above, Nikolai Verdi, two-
time convicted thief and murderer, crossed himself as he prayed
he would not be next.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Arvada III colony, Arvada System
Howard family homestead
Sunday, October 13, 2335
"Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday dear Beverly,
Happy birthday to you."
The sound of applause filled the room as the little girl
blew out the candles. There were more of them than the number of
fingers on her hand, and she knew that that made her very old
indeed. Why, she was practically a grownup.
She watched as her mother cut the cake, carefully removing
and placing aside the candles as she did so. She put the first
piece of cake on a little plate and handed it to her. The little
girl smiled up at her mother, taking the plate and reaching up to
plant a wet kiss on her cheek. She waited until the cake had been
distributed onto the other plates and among the rest of the
guests, then ran off to join her friends in the living room, her
red gold curls dancing around her head.
They finished the cake and were in the midst of her favorite
game, kadis-kot. Her best friend, Melissa, from the farmhouse
next to theirs, hooked a finger under the small cross on the
chain around her neck, holding it up to examine it closely.
"Oooh! Bev, where'd you get this?"
"It's so pretty," Melissa's sister, Anne, chimed in,
crowding in to get a closer look as well.
"Yeah!" the girl responded, eager to show off her newfound
acquisition. "My Auntie Day gave it to me. She said it was an old
family tradition," she added.
"I..." Melissa began, but was cut off at the loud clatter
from the kitchen. Both of them turned towards the sound,
startled.
"I'll be right back," Beverly said, laying her game piece
aside and getting up. Melissa and Anne watched as she scurried
into the kitchen, where she'd left the adults only moments
before.
She saw Nana and Auntie Day, leaning over her mother, who
was lying on the floor, a tray with the remains of the cake
scattered beside her. "Mama!" she cried, rushing towards the
prone body. She was stopped, literally scooped up into the air by
a pair of strong hands before she could reach her mother.
"There, there, princess," the voice behind her said. "Your
mommy just slipped. She'll be just fine. See, Auntie Day is
taking care of her." The person holding her turned her around to
face him.
She was only eleven. But she could tell when she was being
lied to. She had seen Auntie Day using her black baggie. And
Auntie Day was a doctor, just like Mama. If she was using her
bag, then her mommy must be really hurt indeed. She squirmed and
wriggled until she found herself free of her uncle's grip. She
slipped to the floor, then rushed past Nana and kneeled down by
her mother.
What she saw would remain imprinted in her memory for the
rest of her life.
Auntie Day held her mama's eye open and shone a light into
it. But what terrified little Beverly was the inky black oil that
floated over the eye. It flowed like gelatin, but was inside her
mother's eye. It was inside... And the worms under mama's skin...
She recoiled. She knew, even with her limited knowledge, that
this was wrong, very wrong.
She screamed...
-----------------------------------------------------------------
46th Street, New York City, NY
Thursday, May 28, 1998
6:19 PM
"... As for our intrepid agents, we won't need to worry
about them for a while. I'm sure Assistant Director Kersh will do
a better job of curtailing their interest in our work than Mr.
Skinner did. Have the results of the hearings been determined?"
"Yes sir. The hearings are due to last another couple of
weeks at the most. But the outcome is a foregone conclusion. With
this much evidence against them, there is no question..."
"Good. And the main project?"
"Proceeding as planned, sir. The vaccine we managed to
procure from the Russians has been remarkably effective in the
laboratory tests. We should be ready for the first trial runs in
the field within the next few months."
"Excellent. Very well, that will be all."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Unknown location
Tuesday, April 6, 2371
4:32 PM, local time
He scrolled down the list on the PADD, reviewing the reports
on various ongoing projects. He stopped on a line indicating the
status of a project he had a personal interest in.
"I see project 273 has reached the next stage," he observed,
looking up at the man standing in front of him. "Has a suitable
planet been found?"
"Yes, sir. A Horta colony in the Belisar system. Our teams
are in place; we're just waiting for clearance to proceed."
The man seated behind the desk blinked, his mind searching
for any information it contained about the system. Isolated, he
recalled. Not on any major traffic routes, situated as it was
near the Federation border. More important, at least a week away
from any aid that could pose a significant threat to the
operation. Barring anything unforeseen, of course. Which, in a
manner of speaking, was why his people existed in the first
place.
An excellent choice, he mused. Not that they had many to
choose from. Not with a physiology like that of these colonists.
Ironic, he chuckled silently, that the ones most similar to their
newfound enemies should be so... 'solid'. Yes, they would make an
excellent trial run.
He nodded, "Very well. I'll take care of the clearance." He
turned his attention back to the PADD, scrolling down to the end
before returning it to the aide. "That will be all," he dismissed
the man.
As soon as the door closed, he turned to his personal comm
unit, calling up a familiar number. He waited as the connection
was requested, wondering if he was doing the right thing. The man
had already been used so much, perhaps it was better to let
him...
The thought vanished as the logo on the screen faded into a
view of an airy office. He could just make out the towers and
cables of the Golden Gate outside the window on the far side of
the room. The image was quickly hidden by the older man who moved
in front of the vidcom.
Surprise was evident on his face at the clearly unexpected
caller. "Luther...?" Surprise, and nervousness.
"Owen, how are you?" He leaned back in his seat, watching as
the other grew increasingly agitated. "Oh, calm down, Admiral.
You didn't think I'd call you on an unsecured line, did you?"
The nervousness gave way to thinly disguised hate. "Why are
you calling me? I thought we'd decided, after last time..."
"We decided nothing," he responded sharply. "As I recall,
you were the one making all the demands."
"We have nothing to talk about," the other ground out.
"There's nothing you can hold over my head anymore. My wife is
dead. You can't touch my daughters, and my son is finally safe
from you." His voice turned bitter. "And I am long past caring
what you do to me."
"Oh, didn't you know?" he affected a surprised look. "Your
precious Katie has requested your son's services as observer for
her first assignment. In fact, Admiral Patterson should be
pushing through the transfer from Auckland any day now." He
watched with satisfaction as the face on the viewscreen paled
visibly. He smiled to himself. Sometimes it was necessary to give
small reminders of exactly who was in charge. He placed his
elbows on the arms of his chair, his chin resting on his clasped
hands. "I wonder how his presence will be received by all those
Starfleet officers onboard Voyager."
"Damn you, Luther," the hoarse whisper came. "Damn you to
hell." Bitterness, defeat, sorrow, all intermingled in his words
as his shoulders slumped. "What do you want?" The words of a
broken man.
"A simple clearance request. We have a project scheduled for
a certain colony in the Belisar system. We need you to make sure
no missions get assigned near that system for the next two
months."
The Admiral sighed. "I'll take care of it." He paused, then
added sarcastically, "Anything else, Director Sloan?"
If he caught it, he chose to ignore the barb. "No, that will
be all. Good day, Admiral."
"Paris out."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Elsewhere on earth, in a small room in the basement of an
unassuming building, a display monitor came to life, lighting up
with various pieces of information about its current activity.
The system had been alerted by a transmission to a certain
office in the Admiralty, secure and encrypted though it had been.
Data streamed in, was processed, then sent to a decryption queue.
The appropriate headers were attached, indicating the date of
transmission, the parties involved, and other pertinent
information. Once the message was in the queue, the monitor
flicked itself off, waiting for the next piece of data to head
its way, while the decryption algorithms began their work.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment
Saturday, June 13, 1998
9:13 AM
The soft strains of Tchaikovsky floated through the room as
he swam up from unconsciousness. He kept his eyes closed,
reaching out beside him. He felt the pillow beside him, pulling
it close. A deep breath, and he could smell her. Intoxicating...
He remembered the night before, a very satisfied smile stretching
his lips as he burrowed further into the covers.
He would be the first to admit his usual insomnia simply
vanished when he was with her. There was a time he couldn't have
imagined a night he'd slept through without waking up from one
nightmare or the other. But now, even the impending closure of
the OPR hearings in a couple of days couldn't dampen his
enthusiasm.
Slowly, reluctantly, the eyes opened as he heard the faint
sounds coming from the bathroom. He pushed back the covers and
jumped out of bed, moving towards the other half of himself. He
came upon her, lying in the tub, completely relaxed. He took
another look, grinning as he realized she'd fallen asleep. Not
too surprising, considering how late they'd been up the night
before, engaged as they'd been in some rather... worthwhile...
activities. What did surprise him was the next piece that started
up on the stereo. 'How appropriate,' he thought to himself.
Quickly washing up, he moved to kneel beside her. Her hair
was pinned up, a crown of flame against the fair skin. The water
in the bubble bath lapped against her throat, which lay
invitingly bared to any advances he might choose to make. He
contented himself with simply staring at her for a moment,
marveling at her beauty.
Once again, he found himself wondering what he could have
possibly done in his miserable life to have deserved such a
reward. And, just as he'd always done, he immediately shied away
from following such thoughts through to their inevitable
conclusion. After all, he'd wished for something, and looking at
her, there was no doubt the wish had been fulfilled. Looking said
gift in the mouth would hardly be the height of wisdom.
She awoke to the feel of lips starting at the base of her
neck, slowly moving upwards. She felt the smile tugging at the
corner of her lips, but refrained from showing it, keeping her
eyes closed. Not that she didn't appreciate this way of waking
up, no. Quite the contrary, it was all she could do to keep the
fire that had suddenly erupted within her from claiming her. Her
hands twitched at her sides, itching to reach up and pull him
closer.
The lips had reached her jaw, tracing slow nibbles and
kisses along the bone as they headed for their target. She was
having a hard time keeping from shouting at him to speed up the
maddeningly slow pace. Finally... finally, the lips met their
destination, caressing hers, tortuous, incensing. Her eyes shot
open as the tongue traced her lips, begging to be allowed in. She
melted into the kiss, stretching the moment into a seeming
infinity.
"It worked!" the hoarse, yet wondrous whisper traveled along
her skin, evoking a sensuous shiver even as the lips moved close
to her ear. "She awakens!" A bit puzzled at his words, her face
cleared as she heard the faint sounds of the Valse from Sleeping
Beauty float in from the bedroom. "My prince," she whispered
back, just as softly. She turned to the side, her lips tracing
his cheek. "My hero!" She felt the hand trail down her neck,
tracing her collarbone, then her ribs as it traveled down. She
felt it touch her, and gasped.
"Why Scully," the grinning query came, the movement of his
hands disturbing the opaque layer of soap, "do the bubbles tickle
your Tchaikovsky?"
She growled wordlessly, her hands reaching up to get a grip
on his body, then pulling him down towards her.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
46th Street, New York City
Thursday, April 8, 2371
4:43 AM
"Steve?" A tousled head of dark hair peered out from under
an assortment of covers, looking around the dark room for the
missing occupant. "Steve, honey?" she called out again in a
sleepy voice. "Come back to bed."
"In a minute, Barb," the reply floated out from the
adjoining room.
"Great!" came the muttered reply before the woman on the bed
dropped her head back down onto the pillow. Within moments, she
was fast asleep.
In the next room, however, the man seated at the
communications terminal promptly forgot his promise as he saw the
images appear on the screen. The transmission was slightly
garbled, a testament to the efficiency of Starfleet's encryption
codes. On closer examination, he could make out a second layer of
encryption as well, obviously belonging to the anonymous caller.
No wonder the decryption routines had taken almost... he glanced
at the header information, his eyebrows rising... one and a half
days!? The best encryption routines he'd ever come across took
less than a day to breach using his resources. He sucked in a
breath. Who the hell had the Admiral been talking to?
As the decrypted information finished displaying on the
screen, he grinned. "Talk about the judgement of Paris," he
murmured. It looked like their hunch had paid off after all. He'd
been sure that Paris was the key, the one who could lead them to
the ones they were really after. And now, they just might have
found a way...
He saved the information, then carefully went about covering
his tracks. By the time he was done, no one would even suspect a
leak in Starfleet's supposedly secure communications network, let
alone finger his terminal as the destination of the leaked
information.
It was beginning, he thought excitedly. Exactly what it was,
he didn't know yet. But it was what they had been waiting for.
His fingers danced over the controls as he packaged the
information, disguising it within layers upon layers of
encryption. "Computer, verify encryption seal, authorization
Steven Byers."
"Seal verified," the computer replied.
"Record message." He waited for the confirmation chirp, then
continued, "Hey Felix, long time no see. How are ya, you old
goat? Anyway, just thought I'd call and say hi. Oh, and give my
best to Denise. Later... End message."
He punched in the destination codes, then carefully
piggybacked the encrypted information on top of his message
before transmitting it. With a sigh, he got up, switching off the
terminal.
"Is everything all right?" the woman mumbled, waking up
slightly as he climbed back into the bed.
"Everything's fine, hon. Go back to sleep."
"Ok. I love you."
"I love you too, sweetheart." He heard the faint snores
coming from beside him. He continued to lie quietly on the bed
for a few minutes, thinking as he gazed up at the ceiling.
Finally, uttering a quick prayer for his friends, he closed his
eyes and followed his wife into slumber.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Chief Medical Officer's Quarters
USS Enterprise-D
Friday, April 9, 2371
0512 hours
... and screamed until her voice was hoarse.
Her eyes shot open.
"Mama!" The soft whisper barely escaped her lips. The
screams from the nightmare, however, echoed inside her head. She
blinked the rest of the sleep away from her eyes.
"Computer, time?"
"The time is 0513 hours," it replied in its precisely
modulated voice.
She sighed. Too early for comfort, yet too late to try to go
back to sleep. She resigned herself to an early morning, stifling
a yawn as she roused herself off the bed. She padded to the
ensuite, her nerves still tingling from the aftereffects of the
dream.
It had been so real. She hadn't had that particular dream in
so long. Not since... She frowned. It had been so long... Not
since before she met Jack.
More than two decades.
She wondered what had triggered the dream. "Oh, god. I'm
finally going psychic, just like Nana warned," she muttered to
herself as she went about her daily morning routine.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Bridge
0817 hours
"Captain's log, stardate 48269.4. We're on our way to the
Parmen sector to chart the collapse of a local neutron star in
the Endicor Nebula. Stellar cartography has informed me that the
presence of the gases in the nebula will cause heretofore unseen
properties to emerge in the resulting quantum singularity. I hope
the mission will give the crew a much needed break from the
hectic schedule Starfleet has forced upon us these past few
weeks.
First however, we will be making a brief, unscheduled stop
to deliver our guest to his home on Belisarius IV. In the
meantime, I have enjoyed having him on board. He has provided
some very unique views in his work on the relationship between
geophysics and archaeology."
"Mr. Data. Estimated time of arrival at the Belisar system?"
The android seated at the Ops console hit a few keys, then
responded, "Three hours, forty three minutes, Captain. We will be
within hailing range in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Mr. Data. Would you inform our guest as well?
Well, Number One, how did the Admiral find his accommodations? I
realize we were a little rushed with the last minute schedule
changes."
The bigger man turned to look at the captain, a small smile
on his face. "He seemed to like the modifications we made,
Captain. Said it felt like a bit of Janus VI itself. All the
comforts of home, and much more luxurious than his quarters
aboard the original Enterprise. However, he did complain that
dinner was somewhat rich for his taste. Too igneous, I believe,
were his exact words."
"Indeed," the captain smiled, his eyebrows rising in
amusement. "I wonder if that's a matter for the ship's galley, or
the geophysics department."
"I took the liberty of notifying both, sir." The first
officer's eyes twinkled merrily. "I'm sure Admiral Naraht won't
find any fault with his breakfast today." Both the senior
officers turned their heads as the sound of the turbolift opening
caught their attention. "Speaking of the Admiral..." They stood
up, turning to greet the new arrival.
The bridge crew of the Enterprise was treated to a sight not
often witnessed aboard a Federation starship. They saw what
appeared to be a sizable chunk of granite slide smoothly out of
the lift, almost seeming to float as it glided down the ramp.
Admiral Naraht was one of the few Hortas in Starfleet. A
hatchling from the eggs guarded by the mother Horta discovered on
Janus VI by the crew of the original Enterprise, he was also one
of the first to pursue his species' innate curiosity. His
acceptance into Starfleet had paved the way for the slow, but
steady initiation of the Horta culture into the Federation. Now,
after almost a century in Starfleet, he was retiring to one of
the numerous colonies his people had settled.
"Ah, good morning, Captain Picard. Commander." The
mechanical voice floated out of the voder strapped onto his
carapace. "I must say, today's breakfast was much better. Just
the right amount of hornblende and rhyolite." If the voice box
could express emotion, the tone of the Admiral's voice would have
been humorous. "My compliments to your chef."
"Excellent," Picard replied, turning to smile at his first
officer. "Admiral, if I may ask, you specifically requested the
Enterprise for transport to Belisarius IV..."
A sound suspiciously similar to a dry chuckle emanated from
the Horta. "I was wondering when you'd get around to asking that,
Captain. As you know, the original Enterprise was the first ship
I served on. And the starships Enterprise have always held a
special place among my people, ever since Captain Kirk's initial
mission to Janus VI. When I noticed that the Belisar system was
not that far out of your way, well, I just couldn't resist.
Besides, what good is being an Admiral if you can't throw your
weight around."
The comment earned muted laughter from both Riker and
Picard. "Well, Admiral, I hope you enjoyed your stay..." Picard
began.
"Captain...," Data cut in.
"Yes Mr. Data."
"Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I'm not getting any response
to our hails from Belisarius IV."
"Probable cause?"
"None that I can determine sir," Data replied with a slight
tilt of his head. "Diagnostics indicate nothing wrong with our
equipment. Nor do sensors indicate any spatial anomalies that
could interfere with the communication. Therefore, the cause for
the lack of response is on the other end."
"Admiral?" Picard turned to the Horta questioningly.
"Not a clue, Captain," the mechanical voice replied. "I
suppose it's possible there's something wrong with the colony's
equipment."
"Very well. However, better to err on the side of caution.
Helm, increase speed to maximum warp."
"Increasing to warp nine," the ensign at conn acknowledged.
Turning back to the Ops console, Data added, "Revised ETA is
thirty-four minutes."
Leaning back in the command chair, Picard turned from the
Admiral to Commander Riker. Raising an eyebrow, he mused, "Well,
gentlemen. It appears we might have a mystery on our hands."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Larkspur Horse Farm, Charlottesville, VA
Tuesday, December 1, 1998
8:13 AM
The door to the farmhouse slammed forcefully as the man came
striding out. His wrinkled face was drawn tight in anger as he
stormed into the adjoining stables.
'How dare they... This time they've gone too far!' His
racing thoughts came to a halt along with his stride as he
approached the farthest stall. Opening it, he forced himself to
calm down as he reached out and stroked the mare that stood
inside.
He sighed. It had been more than two years now, but he still
missed Bonita Charne-Sayre. Her touch had always seemed to calm
him, her presence a reassuring constant in his life. She might
have started out as his personal physician, but she had come to
mean so much more to him. And he hadn't been able to do anything
except stand and watch as his work took her away from him. And
now...
"It's always difficult, isn't it? Losing the ones you love?"
The voice from the shadows startled him, causing him to step
back in surprise. "Who's there?" the cultured british accent
asked in return, weathered eyes squinting, trying to make out
shapes in the darkness of the stables.
From the far wall, a figure detached itself from the
shadows, moving forward towards him. He watched with barely
concealed amazement as it approached him.
"Hello John. I'd say you're looking well, but circumstances
being what they are...," the newcomer shrugged, his gesture
conveying exactly what he meant.
"Yes indeed," the seemingly older man looked down at the
other. "And it would appear that the group needs to keep better
track of its mistakes. Problems we considered taken care of seem
to keep coming back to haunt us."
That brought a chuckle and a nod from the shorter man. He
moved past the Englishman, turning to lean against the horse
stall.
Gaunt features narrowed at the other's nonchalance. "What is
it that you want?"
"I heard about your granddaughter," came the quiet reply.
Nevertheless, it managed to elicit a sharp gasp from the
hitherto stoic man. He closed his eyes in pain, repeating, "What
do you want?"
"I came because you are going to need my help for what you
are about to do."
"Indeed? And what is it that you think I'm about to do?"
"Why don't we go inside and we can talk about it?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Office of the Asst. Director
J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building
Thursday, December 3, 1998
11:49 AM
Walter Skinner leaned back in his chair, taking off his
glasses and placing them over the file on his desk. He reached
up, tiredly rubbing his eyes as he contemplated grabbing a few
seconds of sleep before his 'appointment'. A glance at the clock
quickly dispelled that notion.
He'd been in his office since five in the morning, ever
since the report had come, or rather been brought, to his
attention. He'd spent the bulk of his time since then on the
phone, trying to find some way to deal with the situation.
Unfortunately, with each unsuccessful call, it was becoming clear
that every channel of action was closed to him, his every
recourse denied.
Not that he was surprised. He'd been expecting something
like this ever since mid-June. Ever since that farce of an OPR
hearing... He could still remember the look on their faces that
day, one of defeat, of betrayal by the very institution that was
supposed to back them up. There were, of course, only two agents
even remotely qualified to handle this particular assignment.
And, very unsurprisingly, they had been conveniently reassigned.
"Domestic Terrorism, my ass," he muttered as he put his
glasses back on. His eyes fell on the personnel record file that
lay on his desk. With a sigh, he leaned forward and opened it.
After exhausting every possible avenue of hope, he'd come down to
his last option. It was one he was loathe to choose, involving
someone so... 'unknown' was the first word that sprung to his
mind. But then, what choice did he have? He didn't dare do
anything overt. No, he'd do all that he could, and hope that
events would unfold for the best. Besides, this particular agent
had come with some most unusual recommendations.
A quick glance at the clock, followed by the slight growling
in his stomach, let him know that he'd better get a move on if he
intended to keep his lunch 'appointment'. He sighed as he put
away the file and stood.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sally's delicatessen
12:05 PM
"Here ya go. One tuna with everything on rye. That'll be
two-fifty."
"Thanks." He grabbed the sandwich, slapping down the money
on the counter as he made the exchange. His eyes roamed the small
restaurant, seeking then finding his target.
His first impression was one of softness. As he came up
behind her, he took in the long blonde hair, pulled back into a
professional knot. As he moved past her, a glance at her face
almost caused him to back away. 'Jesus Christ! She's just a
goddamn kid! What the hell was Joe thinking?' The photo in her
personnel file hardly did her justice.
Before he could do so, however, the woman looked up. Her
eyes... they were the first indication that maybe he'd been a bit
off in his initial assessment, that maybe this woman might have
lost some of that innocence already. Cool Nordic features stared
back at him, momentarily startling him out of his appraisal.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" The words were out of his mouth
before he could stop himself.
"Assistant Director Skinner..." She seemed about to say
something else, but instead gestured towards the empty seat in
front of her. "Please."
"Thank you Agent... Horton, is it?" he asked as he sat down.
"Yes sir." Her eyes quickly went to her lapel, wondering if
she'd forgotten to take her ID off, before delicate eyebrows
raised in confusion as she hurriedly tried to determine if and
when she'd met the man in front of her before. She couldn't think
of any reason an Assistant Director of the FBI would happen to
know offhand the name of a relatively green agent in the Violent
Crimes Section.
She watched him settle in and take a bite out of his
sandwich. Her own lunch was temporarily halted as she glanced at
the man nervously. She jumped when she noticed his eyes staring
back at her.
"You recently transferred into VCS, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir. This July, from the Seattle field office," she
stammered, desperately trying to hide the blush that had started
creeping up her face at being caught staring.
The big man nodded, as if coming to a decision, before
continuing, "I understand you've been assigned a new case."
The woman swallowed, nodding. "Yes sir," the words came
tumbling out as she tried to remember what was in the file she'd
hurriedly glanced through before coming to lunch. Something about
an investigation into several disappearances down in rural
Virginia.
"Who are you partnered with, Horton?"
"Umm... I haven't been assigned a partner yet, sir. This
will be my first field assignment since my transfer, and I was
given the choice of selecting a partner."
"I see," he smiled in reply, his attention back on the food
in his hand. After a few moments, he added, "You know, it isn't
unusual for a new agent to request to be partnered with an
already established team. In fact, it is actually a recommended
course of action, designed to let you get your feet wet safely."
The woman sat back, narrowing her gaze at her superior. Was
he trying to imply that she was incapable of handling this case
on her own? His next words, however, caused her to rethink her
opinion.
"Although, considering the reason you transferred into this
division, you might have already thought of making some such
arrangement? Especially considering this case's possible
connection to domestic terrorism?" The statement was more of a
suggestion than a question.
Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Was he implying what
she thought he was? She had been waiting almost five months for
this opportunity.
Finishing his sandwich, Walter Skinner gathered the empty
wrapper and stood. "I trust you'll make use of whatever resources
you feel are necessary to get this case solved, Agent Horton."
With that he turned and strode out of the deli.
Behind him, the seated agent wondered if it was finally
time.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Belisarius IV colony, Belisar System
Friday, April 9, 2371
The planet was not particularly appealing in any humanoid
sense. The climate was harsh, the heat and near toxic gases
barely qualifying it for Class M status. Rocky and mountainous,
with much of its surface covered with active or dormant
volcanoes, the mineral rich planet was, however, ideal for those
who had chosen to colonize it.
The familiar hum sounded amid the arid landscape. A few
seconds later, four figures materialized on the rocky surface.
The away team looked around, finding themselves at the mouth
of a large cave. Outside, a few structures stood, in deference to
any humanoid visitors. However, the Hortas themselves preferred a
subterranean habitat. Nodding to the rest of his team, Riker
turned and entered the opening.
A few feet within, the entrance widened into a large cavern.
On the far end, numerous tunnels forked in various directions and
angles, an indication of the environment preference of the
inhabitants of the colony.
"Commander!"
Riker was headed towards one of the bigger tunnels when he
heard Dr. Crusher call for him. He turned toward the cry,
watching the woman run to the side of the cave. He gestured for
Data and Worf to go on ahead, then walked over to stand beside
her kneeling form, watching as she ran her tricorder over what
he'd initially assumed to be a piece of rock.
"Doctor?"
She sighed, shaking her head. "It's dead," Crusher replied,
punching various commands into the tricorder as she tried to make
sense of the readings she was getting from the once living rock.
"I'll need to transport it back to sickbay for a more detailed
analysis. All I can tell you right now is that there seems to be
a high degree of degradation in the silicate components of its
system."
"Any probable cause?"
"Not that I can determine here."
"Commander Riker?"
Riker sighed and stood back up, tapping his communicator in
reply. "Yes Data?"
"I've located the colony's subspace transmitter. The lack of
response was not due to equipment failure." There was a pause,
then, "Sir, there doesn't appear to be anyone left alive who
could have responded."
Their eyes met in puzzled surprise. Riker waited for Crusher
to stand, then hurried into the tunnel after the rest of their
team. Catching up to the other two, they found themselves in
another cavern. They looked around, drawing in a sharp breath at
what they saw. Amidst the few pieces of equipment, there were at
least a half dozen dark, unmoving shapes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"That's 42 and 43, Commander," the ensign said, walking up
to the two Hortas.
It had taken almost two hours of searching to find all the
remaining colonists. Unfortunately, the differences between a
dead Horta and the surrounding rock was not enough to be easily
detectable by sensors, especially in the subterranean
environment. So the search was carried out more by visual
inspection than anything else. A hurried report back to the ship,
and there had been almost two dozen officers engaged in the
search.
Riker walked up to the two husks, nestled in the side
tunnel. He crossed off the last two entries on his tricorder, his
eyes coming to rest on the forms of the two colonists in front of
him.
It had been a shock for the entire crew, and even more of
one for Admiral Naraht. Forty-three colonists, all dead with no
discernable cause. And with their unique physiology, Doctor
Crusher had commented on the difficulty in quickly determining
one. Even as the away teams combed the caverns and tunnels for
the last of the colonists, the medical team onboard the
Enterprise worked furiously to solve the tragic mystery.
The movement caught his attention out of the corner of his
eye. His head jerked in the direction of the farther corpse.
Riker frowned. He could have sworn he saw something move across
the lifeless shape. 'Get a grip, Will,' he chided himself as he
approached the dead Horta.
He blinked, sure that it had only been his imagination, or a
simple trick of the light. He leaned closer, and uttered a small
gasp as he saw the dark oil like substance flow across the Horta.
'It couldn't be!' Memories almost seven years old suddenly
flashed across his mind as his hands reached out to the carapace.
Memories of Vagra II and what they had lost there. He could
almost see the flash of light as a dear friend had been so
casually tossed aside, so senselessly... 'Oh, Tasha!' He had a
sudden vision of being covered, being smothered by the oily
substance. He shuddered, his fingers brushing against the rocky
exoskeleton. He frowned. Nothing. But he could have sworn...
"Commander? Is something wrong?"
The hesitant question broke him out of his reverie. Riker
shook his head as he turned back. "It's nothing, ensign. Let's
get the locator beacons on them," he said, motioning towards the
colonists. Under his breath, he muttered, "The sooner we get out
of here, the better."
A few minutes later, they watched the two forms disappear as
the transporter whisked them away.
"Riker to Enterprise. Those were the last two colonists.
Prepare to beam..." He paused, suddenly feeling... strange. He
brought his hand up to wipe his face when he saw it. His eyes
widened at the sight of the thin wormlike substances crawling
just under his skin. He gasped, his fingers scratching at the
skin on the back of his palms. He could feel them, crawling,
moving subcutaneously up his arms, his neck, his face. "Armus!"
The whisper was barely uttered when he felt the world turning
dark.
"Commander!" The ensign was already moving towards him,
reaching out to prevent Riker's fall. "Ensign Stoker to
Enterprise," he said urgently. "Medical Emergency. Two to beam
directly to Sickbay."
Waiting for the transporter effect to claim him, Stoker
never noticed the thin black film on his boots, blending almost
perfectly against the dark material. A few seconds later, the
cavern stood empty.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
FBI Bullpen
Thursday, December 3, 1998
2:12 PM
The sound of a muffled curse pulled her attention away from
the stack of inventory reports in front of her.
"I'm going to go feed the vending machine. Wanna join me?"
Blue eyes glanced up to meet hazel, eyebrows lifting in a
silent question. "Yeah. I need a break from this anyway."
She watched her partner throw her a lopsided grin as he
blanked his computer screen before standing up. She rose,
following him through the maze of tables and desks as they wound
their way to the coffee room.
"Mulder?"
He stopped in the empty hallway, an inquiring gaze of his
own directed at his partner.
"What's up? I know you wanted us out of the public eye for a
reason."
"Well I couldn't very well ravish you in front of a bullpen
full of agents now, could I? I mean, whatever would they think?"
he asked with mock shock.
"Oh, yeah. I really wanna do it in the coffee room, Mulder,"
she shot back dryly. "How... romantic."
"You mean, you've never fantasized about me and you against
the vending machine, Scully?" he asked, grinning.
"Well," she said, pursing her lips as if in thought, "our
old office desk, sure. Skinner's couch, sometimes." She smirked
at the incredulous look on his face. "But the vending machine,
Mulder? Lord knows what crap gets collected on that thing."
"Skinner's ...! Oh, Scully. The things you do to me...,"
Mulder began, his mind already conjuring up images of sneaking
into Skinner's office after hours.
"Can it, Mulder," she cut him off, her tone becoming
professional once again. "So what was so important we had to take
it to the coffee room?"
Mulder immediately got the look in his eyes that Scully had
come to recognize. It was the one that said that he'd gotten some
sort of information about a possible X-file, and in all
probability, was going to lead them into another unauthorized
case. He leaned away from her, his back against the wall. "It's
starting, Scully."
"What?"
"I just received some email... Don't ask," he said, warding
off the immediate question. "It was sent anonymously. Anyway, it
looks like the reason behind our transfers is finally manifesting
itself." He paused for a moment. "How do you feel about a trip to
Charlottesville, Virginia?"
Scully blinked at the sudden leap in topics. "And what
exactly is in Virginia, Mulder?"
"Latierny elementary school, of course," he replied, as if
that made everything perfectly clear.
"God, Mulder. Getting information out of you is like pulling
teeth. Spill, already."
"Oh, all right. Although you're taking all the fun out of
it, you know." He smiled at the mock glare she shot at him, then
continued, "Seven children, ages 8 through 11, disappeared under
mysterious circumstances from Charlottesville General. The only
thing they have in common is that they all went to Latierny
elementary."
"And what exactly is the connection to the X-files, Mulder?"
"Who said anything about an X-file?" Mulder affected an air
of thoughtful speculation. "Why, this might be some sort of plot
cooked up by some malcontent Virginia farmer with too much
fertilizer on his hands. Right up our alley, don't you think?"
She shook her head ruefully. "Only you could draw a
connection between kidnapped children and domestic terrorism,
Mulder." She sighed. "Okay, so what's really going on down
there?"
"Ah, but that's what we're going to go down there to find
out. Now, then, about those sunflower seeds..." Mulder turned,
moving past Scully as he headed for the coffee room.
Scully glanced at his receding figure. 'Damn! He did it
again!' she thought to herself. Shaking her head, she followed
him.
She stopped, almost running into Mulder when he came to a
halt just to the side of the open door. Curious, she leaned past
him when she heard the voices.
"Don't do this Lynn," a vaguely familiar voice rang out of
the coffee room. "You'll be throwing your career away. You know
what happened to her. The same thing'll happen to you, Lynn.
They're poison. Stay away from them."
Scully turned to her partner, seeing her own quizzical look
mirrored on his face. She shrugged.
A new voice, obviously the person who'd been called Lynn,
answered heatedly, "I am an agent in the FBI, Agent Colton. I
will decide how to pursue any investigation into the case I've
been assigned to, and I'll thank you to not stick your nose into
something that is none of your business."
"Damn it, Lynn. This *is* my business."
Mulder cleared his throat, stepping into the doorway. "Is
there a problem, agents?" he asked.
Two heads turned to take in the newcomers, shooting angry
glares in their direction.
"Not anymore," the woman replied, blue eyes flashing icily
back at her companion. "Is there, Agent Colton?"
Agent Tom Colton took a deep breath, then released it. "No,
I guess not. I hope you know what you're getting yourself into,
Lynn," he said quietly. He turned abruptly, tossing another glare
at the former X-files agents as he stalked out of the room.
"Sometimes, that man..." the woman trailed off. "Aargh!"
"I know exactly what you mean," Scully said, giving her a
knowing look as she walked up to the vending machine. "Looks like
Colton hasn't changed much. I didn't know he was assigned back to
DC. I guess he's still trying to fit the square pegs..."
"Yeah," Mulder muttered, "right up his a..."
"Mulder..." Scully cut in warningly.
"Was that idiot bothering you?" Mulder asked. "You know you
have the right to lodge a complaint, Agent...?"
"Horton. Alynna Horton. And as for Tom, I should apologize.
He means well. It's just..."
"You're defending him?" Mulder asked incredulously, "That
man is an insensitive, loudmouthed, arrogant..."
"He's my fiance," Horton cut in, a smile on her face.
Mulder paused, blinked, then turned to his partner. He saw a
similar look of shock on her face. "Umm... Scully? Could you help
me with my foot here? I think I've stuck it in deep this time."
A musical laugh sounded from the woman. "Don't worry, Agent
Mulder. I know he doesn't always bring out the best in most
people."
"I apologize, Agent Horton. Seriously though, what do you
see in him?"
She shrugged. "He makes me laugh?" she replied, although the
soft tone of her voice implied much more.
Mulder smiled, nodding as he moved forward to join his
partner. He was about to dump a handful of change into the
machine when Lynn interrupted.
"Umm... Agents?" she began nervously as the two agents
turned to look at her. "Actually the reason Tom and I were
arguing was because... well... he disagrees about the course of
action I planned on taking with a new case I've been assigned to.
I was wondering if I could ask you... umm..."
Scully raised an eyebrow, moving back to the counter and
pouring out a cup of coffee. She sat at the small table,
gesturing Horton towards one of the empty chairs.
Mulder grabbed a bag of sunflower seeds from the vending
machine, then joined the women as he leaned against the counter.
"You know, Agent Horton. Colton was being an ass, but he was
right about one thing. Are you sure you want to risk the stigma
of associating with the VCS untouchables?" His tone was jovial,
but there was an undercurrent of pain lacing it. "It definitely
won't do your career any favors to be seen hobnobbing with us,
especially if you're new here."
The blonde's eyes flashed. "I think I'm capable of making
those kinds of decisions by myself, Agent Mulder."
"As you most emphatically told Tom Colton," Scully
interrupted. Looking from Mulder to Horton, she sighed. "How can
we help you, Agent Horton?"
"Lynn, please. And the suggestion to ask for your advice
came from Assistant Director Skinner." She watched as both agents
reacted visibly to the information.
Each shot a glance at the other, silently agreeing to notch
up the importance of any forthcoming information.
"Informally, of course," Lynn hastened to add. "And only in
the vaguest of terms. But, well, you see, it's a kidnapping case.
Down in Charlottesville, Virginia..."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sickbay
USS Enterprise-D
Friday, April 9, 2371
1431 hours
"Are you sure he said Armus?"
The nervous ensign nodded at Worf as he watched Dr. Crusher
run past him. "Yes, I'm sure. I didn't realize it was anything
important at the time. I just thought you should know. It was
just as he was collapsing. He whispered that one word, then lost
consciousness." He felt someone walk up beside him. Turning to
see Captain Picard standing beside him, he said, "Captain." Then,
looking back at Worf, "If that's all, Lieutenant...?" At a nod
from the Klingon, he quickly turned and headed out of sickbay.
"Captain, it could not have been Armus," Worf immediately
said. "Vagra II is still under heavy quarantine. He could not
have escaped."
"Would you be willing to risk Commander Riker's life on
that, Mr. Worf. Or that of all these other crewmen?"
Both men turned to look at the biobeds filled with
unconscious members of the away teams. Within minutes of Riker's
beamout, six others had been transported to sickbay in similar
condition. The medical team that had started working almost
immediately on the first officer was now scattered among the
seven crewmen, trying desperately to keep them alive.
Worf's glance turned in the direction of Dr. Crusher's
office, taking in the dark-haired woman who stood there, watching
the same events through the window. He knew that Deanna had been
in here almost since the moment Riker had been brought in. When
he'd returned from the planet along with the last members of the
away team, he had not been surprised to find her here. As soon as
he'd seen her in sickbay, he'd gone to her side, hoping that his
presence would comfort her. She'd smiled at him wanly, turning
her attention immediately to the flurry of activity near the
Commander's biobed. He knew that she'd probably felt...
something... when Riker had been hurt. Worf wondered briefly if
she would ever feel anything like that bond with him.
"It's not Armus."
The calm voice of Dr. Crusher brought him out of his
reverie. Worf and Picard looked up as the doctor walked past them
into her office, then followed her in. Crusher walked over to her
personal replicator unit, requesting a cup of coffee before
sitting down at her desk.
She sipped at the hot beverage while looking at the three
people in front of her. She had been working on the away team
members since they had been brought in almost three hours
earlier. Her hooded expression was a testament to how exhausted
she was. With a sigh, she started to explain her comment outside.
"What it is, I can't tell you yet. But whatever it is, it's
not Armus. With Tasha, there were definite signs of neural
degradation that are simply not present in Will or any of the
others."
"Then why would Will have said that?" Troi asked.
"I wish I could tell you. Ensign Stoker did mention that the
cavern they were in was dark. Maybe Will was mistaken. Or maybe
Stoker misunderstood his words." Crusher sighed, looking from
Picard to Worf to Troi. She noticed that the counselor had gained
a measure of control over herself, her face not betraying the
emotions she had seen on her face earlier. "Deanna...?"
"He's scared, Beverly," she said softly.
The men turned startled glances at her. Even Crusher was
surprised at the revelation.
"They all are. I can feel their fear. It's as if they're
trapped, somehow. Their minds... whatever it is, it's preventing
their conscious minds from surfacing." She let out a pained
breath. "All they can feel is the pain... and the fear."
"Sensory deprivation," Crusher nodded. "If they were somehow
aware of their conscious minds being suppressed, the lack of
sensory input could easily terrify a person. As for what it is...
I'm not even sure if it is a virus, or if it's connected to the
dead Hortas down on the planet. Hell, it could be some sort of
goddamn allergic reaction to something down there, for all I
know. I've got them stable for now, Captain, but I'd recommend we
set course for the nearest starbase with a medical facility."
"Doctor!"
The cry from the nurse brought all four of them rushing
outside.
"What is it, Alyssa?" Crusher asked as she moved close to
the biobed the nurse was standing at.
"There was a drop in his neurotransmitter activity, and when
I checked...," Ogawa trailed off, looking back down at the
crewman in shock.
When they came close enough, the reason for the nurse's
agitation became apparent. They could clearly see the organisms
under the crewman's skin, crawling in various directions. And his
eyes, which Ogawa held open, were covered with a black substance,
the whites almost nonexistent.
Crusher drew in a sharp breath. She was vaguely aware of the
senior staff moving back to give her room, but she was already in
motion. She glanced at the readouts on the nearby monitors,
specifically the ones displaying the crewman's brain functions.
As Troi had noted, there seemed to be some sort of inhibitor at
work, suppressing the neurotransmitter activity in his cerebral
cortex. As a result, his sensory and motor functions were
effectively neutralized. And, unless she was mistaken, several of
the cortical areas that controlled memory and reasoning were also
being affected.
"Cortical stimulator," she barked, hoping she could
forestall the cascading failure in his brain. "Put the rest of
the patients in stasis," she added. She had no idea how to stop
this yet, and she dared not let any of the others get any worse
until she had figured out how to do so. She felt Ogawa move away,
going to make sure her orders were carried out. At the same time,
she felt the cool comfort of the familiar instrument as it was
slid into her hands. She placed it over the crewman's forehead,
noting even as she activated it that his neurotransmitter levels
had dropped dangerously low.
Suddenly, another readout caught her attention. Several of
the other displays monitoring the crewman's vitals started
flashing warnings. A glance at the numerous readouts caused her
to utter a muffled curse. Whatever it was, it was attacking every
single vital system in his body. And from what she could make
out, it seemed like his very genetic codes were being broken
down.
"Doctor, his cortex is shutting down," one of the attending
nurses cried out.
Crusher looked back at the neurotransmitter readouts, and
gasped. The levels were practically negligible. Damn, too many
things were going wrong all at once. "Twenty ccs tricordrazine."
She watched as the nurse pressed the hypo against the crewman's
skin, then glanced back at the readouts. Nothing. "Another dose."
"Doctor?" the nurse looked back at her in shock. Twenty ccs
was already close to a dangerous overdose. Another one like
that...
"You heard me, nurse," Crusher said, her eyes flashing. She
pulled up a readout of the man's cellular activity as the nurse
rushed to comply with her order. 'Oh, god! No!!,' she cried out
silently. She saw the bonds breaking, the carbon molecules that
formed the basis of almost all known life in the universe
virtually disintegrating before her very eyes.
"Doctor, brain activity has ceased," the nurse said quietly.
Crusher drew in a deep breath, hanging her head in defeat.
"Record time of death," she paused, swallowing painfully, "as
1443 hours." If the lack of brain activity hadn't killed him, she
thought, he would have been dead moments later of massive organ
failure.
When she looked back at the man's face, she let out a
horrified gasp. "Oh my god!!" With widening eyes, she saw the
black organisms flow out of his facial orifices. They dripped out
of the corners of his eyes, his ears, his nose. She quickly
reached back, activating the force field around the body. She
then called for a nurse to secure the organisms for testing.
Turning to the three officers standing back near her office,
she slowly closed her eyes for a moment, then moved towards them.
A thought nagged at her subconsciously, and she wondered at the
eerie familiarity of the entire situation. She was sure she'd
never come across anything like this in her medical history, but
nevertheless, she knew she'd seen this somewhere before.
"That must have been what Commander Riker saw down there,"
Picard whispered when she reached them, still stunned at the
sudden loss of a crewman.
Crusher nodded. "It's definitely related to what happened to
the Hortas down there. In both cases, the organisms attacked the
neurotransmitters in the nervous system, causing a cascade
failure in the cerebral cortex of the crewman, and its equivalent
in the Hortas we examined. Also, the organisms seemed to break
down the carbon and silicon bonds in their victims. Either method
would be enough to cause a quick death by themselves. Together,
the victims never had a chance."
She blinked, a memory coming to the surface as she
remembered something... It appeared that her dream that morning
had been precognitive after all. Had that been only today?
Suddenly, it felt like she hadn't slept in ages.
"Captain," she said, turning to him, "I... we just don't
have the facilities here to treat Will and the others."
"I already called the bridge, doctor. We're on our way. But
it will still take a week at the very least before we reach
anywhere even remotely suitable. Do you think they will...?"
"I'll do my best. But...," her voice lowered as she
continued, "Jean-Luc, I think I've seen this before, back on
Arvada III."
Picard's eyebrows rose. "You think this is related to what
happened there?" He knew that the incident had deeply affected
her, shaping her life, and eventually contributing to her
decision to enter the medical field.
"Yes, I do. Jean-Luc...," she said, pausing to collect her
thoughts. "When I was in medical school, I tried to access
Starfleet's information database on what had happened there. But
every single time, I found that the entire incident had been
classified way above my clearance level. In fact, even now, I
think I might need your level of authorization to look up those
files on the computer."
"That's absurd. Why would Starfleet classify information
about a medical disaster, especially to a doctor? Wouldn't they
want any knowledge of treatments to be readily available?"
"My point exactly," Crusher replied. "Unless, of course,
they didn't want anyone learning about the cause of the disaster
in the first place."
"You mean..."
Crusher nodded as she saw her meaning register on the
captain's face. "I'm starting to wonder if either Arvada III or
our current situation was just an accident."
Picard's expression hardened. If either incident had indeed
been deliberate... Someone was going to pay for this, he silently
vowed. "Very well, Doctor. I'll expect a report..." He stopped,
noting the exhausted expression on Crusher's face. "... tonight.
Meanwhile, Beverly," he continued softly, "get some rest." With
that, he turned and strode out of sickbay, followed by Troi and
Worf. If any of them noticed the counselor lightly brush her
knuckles against Riker's cheeks as she passed his biobed, none of
them chose to comment on it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Saturday, April 10, 2371
1121 hours
Crusher paced anxiously in her office, glancing every once
in a while at the blue screen on her desk with the Federation
logo on it. As she waited for her communication request to be
processed and routed through the Federation subspace network, she
thought about the events that had led her to placing the request
in the first place.
After the crewman's death the day before, she'd gotten to
work wading through the computer's files on the Arvada III colony
disaster. As she had suspected, she had needed Picard's clearance
authorization to even get the computer to acknowledge that said
files indeed existed. However, upon opening the files, she had
looked at the screen with incredulity. The information was
sketchy at best, and what was available was contradictory, vague,
and in some cases, blatantly untrue, as far as she could
remember.
And worst of all, there had been no mention of the disease
itself, let alone a cure or method of treatment. Yet she knew for
a fact that her grandmother and aunt had single-handedly been
responsible for saving a sizeable percentage of the colonists'
lives, owing to their medical expertise and knowledge of natural
medicine.
Then came the next piece of bad news. She'd been in her
office trying to make some sense of the files when she'd been
summoned back to Sickbay. When she had seen the comatose bodies
of Ensign Stoker and his wife, she knew the situation had just
gotten much worse. Amanda Stoker had not been down on the planet.
For her to have become infected, the ensign would have had to
have been a carrier. Which meant that the two dozen or so
officers who had formed the away teams, including her, were now
under quarantine, along with anyone they might have come into
contact with since their return. She herself had been lucky
enough to escape infection thus far, the only member of the
original away team to do so. Which meant that, for all intents
and purposes, she was living on borrowed time.
An analysis of the organisms had provided little
information. They were multicellular, yet displayed all the
characteristics of a virus. They seemed to be a combination of
silicon and carbon based life, which would explain how they could
have had such similar effects both on the Hortas and on the
humanoid away team members.
But Crusher still had no idea why some of the crew were
affected so readily while others didn't manifest the symptoms
until much later. All she could determine was that the virus
itself was impossible to detect within the body. They couldn't
isolate it within the bodies of the infected victims for the
transporter biofilters to beam them out. Which also explained how
they'd gone undetected while the away teams had beamed back
aboard. And, first sickbay, and now, one of the cargo bays was
slowly filling up as crewman after crewman got infected.
She had tried going through the personal effects her
grandmother had left her in her will. Unfortunately, most of the
items she possessed had been more personal than anything. There
was little or no mention of the events surrounding the disaster
in any of her diaries. She had finally decided to contact the one
other person with personal knowledge of those events.
Which brought her back to staring at the bright blue screen
as she waited for the contact to go through to the Renard
Foundation. The organization had been listed as the contact point
for her aunt, and she had been unable to find any other
information listing for her anywhere else. With a start, she
realized that the logo on the screen had been replaced with the
image of a rather impatient looking Tellarite.
She blinked. "Uh... Hello. This is Dr. Beverly Crusher. I
was looking to reach Dr. Dana Howard, and you were listed as the
contact..."
"One moment please..." The Tellarite said gruffly as he
turned to the side, a hoof reaching out to hit a control panel
outside Crusher's field of view. The screen reverted to a logo,
of the Foundation this time.
Crusher tried to ignore the faint chords of the hold music
as she waited. A few seconds later, the image dissolved to reveal
a human with close cropped reddish hair, and a pleasant open
face.
"Ah, Dr. Crusher!" he began, smiling warmly, "My name is
Steven Byers. How can I help you?"
"Hello, Mr. Byers. I was looking for contact information for
Dr. Dana Howard. Her last known forwarding address was given in
your care."
"Is that right?" Byers said slowly, stroking his short beard
thoughtfully. "If I might be so bold, may I ask why you need to
speak with her?"
Crusher was first confused, then angered by his question.
"My reasons are personal, Mr. Byers. If you could just give
me...," she began, her voice rising.
"Unfortunately, Dr. Crusher," Byers interrupted, his smile
not quite reaching his eyes anymore, "we are listed as Dr.
Howard's contact because of privacy concerns. Unless you can give
me a good reason, I'm afraid I'll have to deny your request."
"You can't do that," Crusher spat back.
"I just did," Byers countered, his face showing no hint of
the smile anymore. "Now, as pleasant as it has been, good day,
doctor..." He reached forward to disconnect the channel.
"Wait," Crusher held up a hand. She was relieved when she
saw Byers pause. "I'm sorry, Mr. Byers. I've been under a bit of
pressure lately, and..." She sighed. "But it's still no excuse,"
she said, shaking her head. "Dana Howard is my aunt. I wanted to
get in touch with her because I wanted her opinion on something
she worked on about 36 years ago."
"Oh?" Byers leaned back as he considered her request. A few
seconds later, he looked back up to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry,
Dr. Crusher. I regret to inform you that your aunt passed away
some time ago."
"W... What?" Crusher had known her aunt for less than a
couple of months when the incident had occurred at Arvada colony.
And she had not seen her since. She had always wondered why the
older woman had not kept in touch. But the news of her demise
still came as a shock. "That can't be..." she said softly.
"I am sorry for your loss, doctor. However, if I can be of
any further help, please don't hesitate to ask."
Crusher closed her eyes for a moment in regret of lost
opportunities. When she opened them again, she found Byers
staring at her expectantly. "There is something. Did she work for
you?"
Byers smiled faintly at that. "In a manner of speaking. Why
do you ask?"
"That would mean that you might have a record of her notes
on file. Would it be possible for me to access them?"
"I'm not sure, but I can check," Byers answered. "What
exactly are you looking for?"
"Around October of 2335, she was on Arvada III. I'm looking
for any of her notes of her work during that time. She and my
grandmother helped to find the cure for the disease that struck
the colony then. Unfortunately, I can find no records of what
happened in Starfleet's medical database."
Byers sucked in a startled breath. "Arvada III? Your
grandmother was Felisa Howard?" At Crusher's nod, he whispered,
"Well, I'll be damned." He looked back at her. "Doctor, am I to
understand that you have a... similar problem on your hands now?"
"Yes," Crusher answered guardedly, surprised that he had
made the connection. While it was possible that Byers intended to
help her, it was also entirely possible that he was involved with
those keeping the information she sought from her in the first
place. Her concern was alleviated somewhat when she heard the
string of soft curses the man let escape.
"I am sorry, doctor, but I can tell you without checking
that we have no records of your aunt's work during that time.
However," he paused, as if weighing what he was about to tell
her, "I can point you towards someone who might be able to help
you. I happen to know that, careerwise, your aunt's daughter
followed in her footsteps. I'm sure she can give you the
information you're looking for."
"Very well. How do I get in touch with her?"
"Well, from what I remember, she is currently somewhere near
the Parmen sector. I can send her a message to contact you."
"Hmm... We're in the same sector," Crusher informed him.
"These are our current coordinates and heading," she added,
transmitting the data to him. "I'll be waiting for her call.
Thank you, Mr. Byers. I appreciate your help."
"It was nothing. Dr. Howard's a dear friend. Anything I can
do to help her family..." He shrugged, smiling at Crusher. "Good
bye, Dr. Crusher. And good luck."
Crusher leaned back, lost in thought as the screen winked
off.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Dana Scully's Apartment
Thursday, December 3, 1998
8:29 PM
"Thanks for letting us know, Byers. We'll talk later." The
redhead snapped the cell phone shut. "Well, that was certainly
unusual." She leaned back in her chair, turning to look at the
tall man seated across from her.
"So? What did he have?" Mulder's eyes searched her face for
any clue about whatever Byers had told her.
"About the children?" Scully asked, her eyes drifting to the
computer by her side, then back to Mulder. Her eyebrow rose. "Or
about our new partner?"
"Both," he replied, shrugging. "Either." He rose from the
couch, moving to stand behind her. His hands automatically went
to her shoulders, squeezing unconsciously as he leaned down to
look at the information on the screen.
She sighed, leaning into his hands. She could make out the
faint scent of him, reminding her that this would probably be
their last night together for a while. By mutual consent, both
had long since agreed upon a hands-off policy while in the field.
And while they had not had to adhere to that rule in a while,
what with their reassignments and enforced desk-duties, their
return to field work would once again necessitate certain...
precautions perforce. The rolled up sleeves tickled the back of
her neck as she forced herself to concentrate on the information
Byers had emailed her.
"Okay, Horton first. It looks like most of what the Gunmen
had, we already knew from her official file. Pretty cut and dry
stuff. In fact, Byers mentioned that her personal life was more
interesting than her professional one." Scully glanced down the
screen. "Alynna Horton, 27," she read. "Originally from Seattle.
We already know she graduated from the University of Washington
in 93, with a bachelor of arts in sociology. Let's see, applied
to join the Bureau about a year after that. Accepted into the
program in 95, finished two years later. She's been with the
Seattle field office since then."
"Her transfer request to DC went through in July," Mulder
continued reading. "That's a couple of weeks after our hearing,
wasn't it? You think there's any connection?"
"It *was* a couple of weeks later, Mulder. If she is a
plant, wouldn't they have put her in earlier? Besides, why would
she ask for our help?"
"Hmm... Maybe the case is a distraction. Or maybe we're
being given rope to hang ourselves with." He shrugged. "I just
don't want this turning into another Gibson Praise," he said
softly. He met his partner's gaze, then looked away to glance
back at the information. "Let's see, personal info. Hello..."
Mulder raised an eyebrow, scrolling down the information. "What's
this? Her fiance fell out of her father's balcony? I thought she
was engaged to Colton."
"No, look here," Scully corrected him. "She was engaged once
before, to someone named Robert Bancroft. It was probably before
she even met Colton. It says Bancroft died in 93, and..." Scully
paused, clicking on a cross reference.
"Curiouser and curiouser," Mulder muttered, reading the new
file, a missing persons report. "Her father apparently
disappeared soon after that. Police found him missing when they
tried to question him about Bancroft." He stood and walked around
his partner to perch on the desk. "What is going on here,
Scully?"
She looked up from the computer, meeting his eyes. "I'm not
sure, but it does list Bancroft's death as an accident."
"I wonder... Her father disappearing so soon after that
seems just a bit too coincidental for my tastes."
"I'm sure that's what the people investigating thought too.
But it says there wasn't any evidence of foul play, so..."
"Okay," he said, holding up his hands. "Maybe it's unrelated
to the case. I'd still keep my eye on our Ms. Horton though." He
sighed. "But enough about her. What about the children? The stuff
Horton gave us wasn't exactly overflowing with information."
Scully obligingly clicked over to the next file, pulling up
the short screenful. "Well, there isn't much more here either. It
says here that all seven fainted on the playground at their
school. Cause of the collapses was still undetermined that night,
which is when the nurse on duty reported them missing. There
really isn't anything about any of the children themselves, or
about their medical condition. Even Byers thought it was strange
how little information he was able to dig up about this case."
Mulder nodded. "I guess that will take some good old
fashioned footwork, once we get there."
"Well, at least we won't have to hide our investigation, now
that Horton officially asked for our help."
"Yeah, I bet Kersh was pulling out his hair trying to figure
out a way to deny her request," Mulder chuckled in reply. "I hope
you're packed already, cause I don't think we'll have time
tomorrow morning."
"You didn't have to book our flights out so early tomorrow
morning, you know," Scully shot back at him, adding a glare for
good effect.
"Ah-ah," Mulder admonished, shaking a finger at her. "Don't
you know it's the early bird that catches the worm, Scully?
Besides," he said, standing up from the desk. One hand went to
the computer screen, shutting it off, the other reaching for one
of Scully's hands. "It's not even nine yet. If we went to bed
now, we'll be sure to get up in time to meet Horton at the
airport." He smiled. "Why, we might even have the time to get in
a coffee before our flight."
"Oh, is that right, Agent Mulder?" Scully allowed herself to
be pulled up, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"You mean you don't want to stay up all night working out all the
angles on this case?"
"Nah," he replied, leading her towards the bedroom. "A
person needs their beauty sleep if they're to function well in
their day to day activities. I think I read that in one of your
women's health magazines."
It earned him a chuckle from his partner. "So says the king
of insomniacs," she said, shaking her head ruefully. "And what
were you doing, reading up on women's health?"
"Well, it was either that, or read up on the latest surgical
procedures in your medical journals."
"Hmm... I thought I had some fiction somewhere in..."
"Eewww... romance... ick," Mulder cut her off, making a
face.
"Mulder, you are a pig," she smirked.
"Oink, oink," he replied self-deprecatingly. "Besides, what
do they know? I suppose one could live vicariously through a
fictional character's romance, but they pale in the light of the
real thing." He affected a grandiose stance, one hand on his hip,
the other ushering her into the bedroom. "I'll show you romance,
m'dear, the likes of which will have you swearing off even the
steamiest of those novels of yours."
"Mulder," she cried exasperatedly, allowing him to lead her
inside. "There is a difference between romance and unbridled
lust, you know."
He pushed her backwards onto the bed, leaning in close to
her, kissing her softly on the lips. "Are you complaining?" he
asked softly, earning him a reply in kind.
"Hell, no!"
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Private Vessel Eagle
Saturday, April 10, 2371
1153 hours
"Thanks for letting us know, Byers. We'll talk later." The
redhead watched the face on the viewscreen wink out. "Well, that
was certainly unusual." She leaned back in her chair, turning to
look at the tall man seated across from her.
"Curiouser and curiouser," her husband agreed, nodding.
"Those coordinates are almost on top of the Belisar system. What
are the chances that this is just a coincidence?" Seeing the
raised eyebrow, he grunted. "Yeah, my thoughts exactly."
"Byers wouldn't have risked calling us, even over a secure
frequency, if he didn't think it was worth it."
The man nodded in agreement. "How far away are we from the
Enterprise?"
The woman turned back to the console, punching in the
necessary commands. "It's a good thing we were already near this
sector when we got Byers' first message. We should intercept
Enterprise in...," she said, glancing at the readouts, "a little
over 14 hours at our current speed."
"Scully?"
She turned to her husband, a questioning look on her face.
"Do you think this is such a good idea? What if she
remembers you?"
"Mulder," she replied exasperatedly. "Beverly was 11 years
old when she saw us last. Besides, we weren't at Arvada for more
than a couple of months. I hardly think she'll recognize me. And
even if I do ring any bells, she'll probably chalk it up to
family resemblance."
"It's just... I've got a bad feeling about this one, Scully.
And what about me? They'll definitely recognize me."
"I know. You'll just have to stay on the Eagle. I can
probably pass it off as isolating you from any possible
contagion."
"Still..."
"Mulder, you know if there's even the slightest chance, we
have to..."
Mulder sighed. "I know. The last thing I want is another
Arvada III on my conscience." He got up slowly, moving to the
rear of the craft. "Why don't you give your niece..." He
chuckled. "Sorry, ... your cousin a call," he continued softly.
"Let her know we're on our way."
Scully shook her head, a small smile on her face as she
watched him enter the living area. Once she was sure the door was
closed behind him, she put in a comm request to the Enterprise.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Charlottesville General Hospital
Friday, December 4, 1998
11:09 AM
To say it had been an uncomfortable plane trip would have
been putting it mildly. While it had been years since the X-files
agents had been partnered with anyone else, the idea of
partnership had been equally non-existent for their newest
colleague. As a result, the forty minute plane trip had passed in
relative silence.
Once they had arrived, it had been a mutual decision to go
to the hospital first, since that had been the last place the
children had been at. Each agreed that they simply needed more
information on exactly why the children had been admitted in the
first place. Which brought them to their current situation.
"Dr. Kelso will be with you in a moment. Please have a
seat." The receptionist gestured towards the seats behind them.
They nodded and moved into the waiting area.
"What do you think?" Mulder asked once they were seated.
Horton started when she realized the question had been
directed at her. "About what?" she asked confused. The question
had come out of the blue.
"About this case. Why do you think Skinner asked you to talk
to us about it?" If Mulder thought he saw a flash of uncertainty
cross her face, it was immediately hidden.
"I'm not exactly sure, Agent Mulder. I assumed it had to do
with your experience in..."
"The X-files were concerned with paranormal or otherwise
unexplained phenomena, Agent Horton," Mulder cut her off. "Or do
you think this has something to do with our recent exile into
domestic terrorism?" he added sarcastically.
There was a faint hint of a blush on her face as Horton
looked from Mulder to Scully back to Mulder again. "I don't
know," she sighed, shaking her head. "I wasn't even aware he knew
who I was or what case I'd been assigned. He came to my table
when I was having lunch, and suggested I ask..." She paused, then
continued smoothly, "... ask you for your help. It seemed as
though he didn't want anyone to think my request had anything to
do with him."
Mulder nodded, glancing at his partner. She simply shrugged,
accepting Horton's answer for the moment.
"Ok, so what do you know about this case," Scully asked.
"Well, I already gave you everything I had on it, which I
admit wasn't much. It almost seems like they're reluctant to just
hand over any information about the specifics of the children's
condition at the time of their kidnapping."
"Maybe they weren't kidnapped," Mulder muttered, earning him
a questioning glance from Horton, and a chastising one from
Scully. Before Horton could ask him exactly what he meant by the
remark, they were interrupted.
"Hello, I'm Dr. Kelso. You are the FBI agents in charge of
this case?"
"Yes we are," Horton said, rising to shake his hand. "I'm
Special Agent Horton. These are Agents Mulder and Scully. We
wanted to ask you a few questions about the children. We weren't
given much to go on in the official reports."
"Understandable," Kelso replied, nodding. "We didn't see how
the condition of the children had any bearing on the case itself.
Perhaps we could discuss this further in my office." He turned,
leading the way to one of the recessed doors on the side.
"Please have a seat," he gestured, sitting down. "So what
did you want to ask me."
"Dr. Kelso," Scully began, "we were told that all the
children had been admitted on the same day. That would indicate
that they were all admitted for the same reason. However, there
seems to be no mention of any diagnoses in the police reports."
"I don't see that there would be," he replied, smiling at
them. "It was just a simple case of food poisoning. They were
treated immediately, and were recovering. They were being held
for observation overnight, when they disappeared. I doubt that
their medical condition had anything to do with why they were
kidnapped. The person responsible for this probably saw an
opportunity to get his hands on several children in a weakened
condition, and took it. I don't know if you were aware of this,
but all the children came from rather... affluent homes."
"Ah, then you expect there to be ransom demands soon."
Horton meant it as a statement more than a question.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Kelso answered, shaking his head
in agreement.
"Dr. Kelso, we were told that you hadn't yet determined the
cause of the children's collapse as of the time they were
reported missing."
He shrugged. "A simple misunderstanding, I'm sure. The nurse
on duty that night was relatively old. I assume she simply
misread the patient's charts."
"Could we take a look at the charts?" Scully asked. At his
hesitant look, she added, "I'm a medical doctor. I need to know
if their prevailing health might pose any threat to them in their
captor's hands."
The doctor sighed. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm." He
stood and went to one of the cabinets that lined the back wall.
He pulled out a folder, walking back and handing it to Scully.
She quickly scanned through it. "I'd like to make a copy of
this if you don't mind," she said, looking back up at him. When
he nodded, she turned to Mulder, who had been quiet during the
entire interview.
Horton watched Mulder nod. "Dr. Kelso," the agent's voice
reverberated around the room, causing Horton to look at him in
surprise. She could feel the cadence of his voice change. She
couldn't put her finger on it, but the words somehow made her
want to relax into them. She looked over and saw the same effect
on Kelso.
"In your medical opinion, what was the children's condition
at the time they disappeared?" Mulder continued.
Kelso blinked, then frowned. "I told you, agent. They were
relatively healthy. We had already treated them for the food
poisoning. They were in no danger. They just needed rest."
Horton shook her head to clear it. For a moment, she thought
she'd fallen asleep. What had Mulder asked? Something about the
children's health. She wondered why he'd repeated the earlier
question. Turning back to Kelso, she asked, "The nurse who
reported the missing children... could we speak with her?"
"I'm sorry," Kelso replied sadly, shaking his head. "Nurse
O'Malley died of a myocardial infarction a few hours later. As I
mentioned, she was rather old. I'm afraid the shock was somewhat
more than she could handle. Too bad, really. She was due to
retire in a month."
"I see," Mulder replied. He looked to the other agents, then
rose. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Kelso."
"My pleasure agents." Kelso grinned as he stood and escorted
them out the door. He watched them walk away, the grin fading
almost immediately. He returned to his office and picked up the
phone.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"Well?" Mulder stood outside the hospital, taking in what
little there was of the noon sun.
"It was rotten luck that the nurse died. She might have seen
something that could have helped us," Horton sighed, walking
toward their car.
"Very rotten," Mulder agreed. "Practically stinks, in fact."
Horton stopped in her tracks, turning surprised eyes on her
partners. "You don't think she had a heart attack?"
"You said it yourself," Scully reminded her. "She might have
seen something. And now we'll never know, will we? Besides, she
was the only one who said that the cause of the children's
collapse hadn't been determined. And now we find a neat little
explanation for that."
"What was in the charts, Scully?" Mulder asked.
She sighed. "Food poisoning, Mulder. Just like Kelso said. A
classic textbook example of it, in fact. And nothing in it would
give anyone any reason to believe otherwise."
"Then why..." Horton began.
Mulder glanced at Scully before replying, "Call it a gut
feeling." He was about to open the door when something caught his
eye. "Excuse me," he said, reaching into his pocket as he walked
away.
Horton and Scully saw him approach a nearby car. More
specifically, they saw him walk up to a woman in a nurse's
uniform, his hand pulling out a box of matches. They looked at
each other, then walked towards him.
"Wouldn't you know it? A cigarette break, and I get stuck
without a light. Thanks," the nurse said, taking a puff on her
cigarette.
"No problem," Mulder replied. "I'm Special Agent Mulder from
the FBI. These are my partners, Agents Scully and Horton. I was
wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions."
The woman seemed slightly startled, but then shrugged.
"Sure. My name's Linda. What do you want to know?" She paused as
a thought occurred to her. "Say, is this about those missing
children?"
"Do you know what they were in the hospital for?" Scully
asked.
"Hmm... I'm not sure. You'd have to ask their doctor or the
attending nurse," she said, leaning against her car as she blew
out a puff of smoke. "Oh wait, it'll have to be Dr. Kelso. Their
nurse, Gretchen O'Malley, god rest her soul, died a couple of
days ago."
"Do you know what she died of?" Horton ventured.
"A heart attack, the poor thing. It's actually kinda ironic,
in a way," Linda mused.
"Oh, why's that?" Mulder asked, curious.
"It's just, well, she was strong as an ox, Gretchen was.
Don't get me wrong. She was pushing seventy if she was a day. But
she had so much energy, you know. I guess I just never
expected... well." Linda shook her head sadly.
"Did she say anything to you before she died?"
"No, not really. It was the night those kids disappeared.
She was doing her rounds after the police left. And she just
collapsed. Me and one of the other nurses found her just lying
there on the floor. She was delirious, I think. She was spouting
nonsense, gasping for air. I guess being in a hospital didn't
help her much, huh? Dr. Kelso said her heart simply gave out. We
all loved her so much. It was such a shock."
"Spouting nonsense? What did she say?"
"Like I said, it didn't make any sense. She kept repeating
the same thing over and over. 'Black eyes' or something like
that. 'They had black eyes.'" The nurse sighed.
Mulder darted a surprised glance at Scully before donning an
impassive mask. "Thanks Linda. You've been a great help," he
said.
"No problem," the nurse replied, glancing at her watch.
"Well, I've got to get back. I just hope you find those kids,"
she said, walking away.
"Black eyes?" Horton asked. "Does that mean anything special
to you?"
"Maybe," Mulder narrowed his eyes in thought at the
retreating figure of the nurse before turning to head back to
their car.
Horton sighed in exasperation. "What did he mean by that,
Agent Scully? What aren't you two telling me?"
"What do you mean?" Scully asked.
"What I mean," Horton snapped, "is that both of you have
been acting as if there's something more to this case than a
simple kidnapping. So far I've not seen anything to indicate
that."
Scully smiled to herself, reminded of the first few cases
after she'd been partnered with Mulder. For some reason, it was
exceedingly funny to see someone else go through what she'd had
to endure early in her assignment to the X-files. The half baked
ideas that she'd slowly come to accept as viable possibilities,
the uncanny leaps of logic that were Mulder's particular forte.
Of course, having been told beforehand that there was more to
this case than met the eye by one of Mulder's informants didn't
exactly hurt either.
She tossed a glance at Horton, belatedly realizing it for
what it was. The trademark Mulder look, one that conveyed pained
tolerance, condescension, and smug superiority all in one stroke.
One she'd come to despise, until she'd earned his trust and
respect. He wasn't as bad as he'd once been, but it seemed she'd
picked up the habit. She bit her lip to keep the smirk from
showing on her face as she walked to their car, leaving an
exasperated agent behind her.
"I think our new partner is starting to get annoyed with us,
Mulder," she said as she slid into the passenger seat. "And since
when do you carry matches around with you anyway? You don't
smoke."
"Since the last time we found ourselves in the woods without
being able to light a fire," he answered defensively. "And you
look like you're enjoying yourself." Mulder smirked, glancing at
her. Catching her guilty look, he laughed. "Shame, Scully. She's
an impressionable little agent. Maybe we should show her some
pity."
"Oh yeah. Like you showed me when we were first partnered? I
don't think so," she snorted. "Let her suffer."
"I never figured your evil streak ran so wide, Scully," he
teased, shaking his head.
"Hey, I learned from the best," she replied, leaning back in
her seat, watching Horton continue to stare at them from where
she'd left her. "I didn't want to say it in front of Horton, but
what happened with Kelso?"
"I don't know. I suppose it's possible he was telling us the
truth..." His partner's disbelieving snort revealed what she
thought of the idea. He chuckled. "My thoughts exactly. Which
means he either truly believes what he's telling us, or..."
"Or...?" Scully prodded.
"Or he's simply a resistor." Mulder sighed, "We've run into
them before, Scully. There's just no way to tell." He shrugged,
watching as Horton slowly made her way to the car.
Horton quietly slid into the seat behind them. "I assume
we're going to the school now?"
Mulder nodded. "I want to take a closer look where the kids
fainted."
"You don't expect to find anything there, do you?" Scully
questioned. She knew that if this were some sort of cover-up, any
evidence would most likely have been 'cleaned' up by now.
"You never know what I might spy with my eagle eye, Scully,"
he replied as if in jest.
"So are you two going to tell me why you think there might
be more to this than a simple kidnapping?" Horton asked. "Not to
sound ignorant or anything, but just in case it does turn out to
be a kidnapping, shouldn't we try to keep any avenues of
investigation in that direction open?"
"You're absolutely right, Agent Horton," Mulder agreed,
starting the car. "In fact, I think we should go about this case
as if it were just that. The only reason we have to believe it
might be anything different is because we've seen something
similar to this before. We just don't want to overlook any
'avenues of investigation', as you put it, in this direction
either."
Horton stared quietly at the duo in the front seat, her face
not betraying her thoughts. Finally she seemed to come to a
decision. She nodded. "I suppose I can go along with that..." She
leaned back in her seat. "For now, anyway," she added to herself.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Latierny elementary school
2:33 PM
They could hear them, even from around the corner. The
agents rounded the bend, pulling up to a stop behind a yellow
bus. There were children everywhere, running and shouting as they
waited for the buses to leave or their parents to come and pick
them up.
"Those were the days, eh Scully?" Mulder quipped as he
walked through the schoolyard, heading for the entrance.
"Oh, I don't know about that," Horton piped in, looking
around at all the activity. "Look at them. Did you notice that
none of them are coming near us?"
The X-files agents paused to take a better look at their
surroundings. Horton was right. The children were being careful
to give the agents a wide berth, even in the midst of their play.
On closer look, they noticed several of them looking at the
agents curiously, others more warily.
"I guess it's only natural," Scully replied. "We're not
exactly dressed like parents. With their friends missing like
this, I'm not surprised they're being a bit cautious. At least
they're being taught to be on their guard."
"Yeah," Mulder agreed as he came up to the entrance. "Well,
let's do this." He pushed open the door and headed in.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The agents were led out to the side of the school. They
stood in front of a clearing that extended to the woods beyond.
The school was nestled against a wooded area, enclosing it from
behind.
"It was during recess." The thin mousy woman who accompanied
them turned to face them, pushing up her glasses as she
explained. "The break was almost over, so it was just a little
before noon. I was one of the teachers assigned to supervise them
that day. Several of the kids were playing over there," she said,
pointing to a portion of the clearing near the trees on the far
side. "One of them came up to me and told me that Billy had
suddenly fallen down and gone to sleep. He seemed so agitated, I
was worried."
"So you followed him to Billy? Can you show us where he was,
Ms. Garvin?" Mulder asked.
"Sure, this way." The teacher led them to the area where
she'd come upon the child. "He was lying right here. It looked
like he was sleeping, but I could tell there was something wrong.
I tried to awaken him, but he wouldn't wake up. When I looked
around, I noticed that several of the other children were down on
the ground as well."
"Where exactly were these children lying?" Scully walked
over to where Ms. Garvin stood, kneeling down to get a better
look at the ground.
"Oh, just a few feet away," came the reply. "All of them
collapsed pretty close to each other."
"This food poisoning seems very territorial, doesn't it?"
Mulder muttered to Horton, then moved next to his partner. "What
about the other children in the yard?" he asked. "We were told by
the hospital that it was a case of food poisoning. None of the
others seemed to be affected?"
"No, not that I remember. It was just those seven kids. They
must have been particularly sensitive or something. We made sure
to get rid of the food in the cafeteria and had the food for the
next day checked for any sign of contamination. But as for the
other children, by the time I found the unconscious ones, most of
the others had already returned to their classes. No one else
reported any problems."
"Ms. Garvin, this may sound a little strange, but did you
see any marks on any of the seven children?" Scully asked,
standing up.
"Marks?"
"Yes, anything out of the ordinary on any part of their body
that was exposed. Their arms, or their face maybe."
The teacher frowned in thought. "No, nothing really springs
to mind. Of course, when I saw them, I immediately rushed back to
the school to call the hospital and have the parents notified. I
wasn't really by their side for too long."
"Hmm... Thanks, Ms. Garvin. If you don't mind, we'd like to
take a look around before we leave."
"No problem. If you need anything, I'll be around," she
replied, pointing back towards the school building.
Horton walked up to the other two agents, waiting until the
teacher was out of earshot. "What marks were you looking for
exactly?"
"I'm not really sure. Something that would indicate how
these children were infected," Scully replied, watching as Mulder
slowly walked around the area where the children had been found
unconscious.
"Infected!?" Horton asked incredulously. "Infected by what?
What do you think happened to them?"
Scully stared at her, eyes narrowing questioningly. "You
still think it was just food poisoning?"
Horton paused, taking a deep breath as she considered her
words. Finally, she shook her head. "No, not anymore, I don't.
Whatever happened to those kids was more than a simple accident.
Agent Mulder's comment about all of them collapsing so close to
each other makes sense. Whatever it was, it hit them at the same
time, probably while they were playing. Besides, none of the
others in the school reported any illness, even though they all
ate the same food." She stopped her deductions, pinning Scully
with a piercing glance. "But I still have no idea what really
happened to them. And I get the feeling I'm the only one," she
continued accusingly.
Scully shook her head. "Neither of us has any solid evidence
either, Lynn," she said softly, stumbling slightly over the
unaccustomed use of the other's familiar. "It's just..." She
trailed off, seeing Mulder stare quizzically at a point along the
edges of the clearing. She frowned as his face paled, his eyes
focused on one particular spot. When she saw him dart toward one
of the trees lining the clearing, she started towards him.
"Mulder?" she called out. "Did you find something?"
She came upon him, Horton at her heels. He knelt in the
grass, lightly brushing aside some of the dead leaves and brush.
"Looks like they missed something," he whispered when the others
came to a stop beside him.
Scully gasped at what Mulder was staring at, then
immediately scrabbled in her pocket. She wordlessly pulled out an
evidence bag and handed it to her partner.
Horton frowned as Mulder placed the tiny object into the bag
and held it up. "I didn't think bees were common this time of
year."
Mulder stared at the small insect through the clear plastic.
Quietly, he answered her, "As far as I know, they're not."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Private Vessel Eagle
Sunday, April 11, 2371
0204 hours
"Private Vessel Eagle requesting permission to dock."
"Permission granted. You are cleared for docking in
Shuttlebay Two. Please disengage engines and prepare for tractor
lock."
"Acknowledged Enterprise. Commencing shutdown on my mark."
The sleek vessel slid quietly into the bigger ship, coming
to a halt in its assigned space. The woman at the helm completed
the shutdown procedures, then turned to face her husband as he
entered the cockpit area.
"Well, it's showtime. Wish me luck."
"I hope you can help them, Scully. I really do. If this is
anything like Arvada..." The tall man shook his head sadly.
"Hey," she cut him off, moving closer to give him a hug.
"We're not going to let that happen. Now, are you going to be
okay while I'm up there?"
He nodded, his hands going around her waist as he pulled her
closer to him. "Yeah. I'm sure I can find something around here
to amuse myself. Go on. Knock 'em dead."
The last comment earned a wry chuckle from his wife as she
pulled away. She suddenly leaned up to place a kiss on his lips,
then called out, "Computer, patch me through to the Enterprise
Sickbay." At the answering chirp, she continued, "Anytime you're
ready, Beverly."
"Stand by...," the disembodied voice replied.
Mulder watched his wife dissolve in a whirl of energy, then
sighed as he headed back to the aft living compartment.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sickbay
USS Enterprise-D
Crusher watched the form coalesce behind the force field.
When the sparkling effect cleared, she saw the woman glance
around curiously before the intense blue eyes came to rest on
her. Her cousin had the same red hair she remembered her aunt
having. Smiling at the familial trait, she absently ran a hand
through her own auburn locks as she walked over to the edge of
the quarantine field.
"Welcome aboard, Dr. Kelly. I'm glad you could make it. I'd
shake your hand but..." She gestured towards the force field.
"Please, just Denise," Scully smiled, shaking her head. "I'm
just happy I got your message in time. Let's get to work, shall
we? What's your status?"
They moved together to one end of the force field. Crusher
stopped next to the wall mounted display panel, entering the
commands to pull up her files. "Well, we beamed you directly into
a quarantined area so you shouldn't be affected. But all crew
members on the away team that went down to the planet have now
been infected, as well as a sizeable portion of our crew that
came in contact with them after they come back. That's including
most of my medical staff." She glanced around the deserted
sickbay. "In fact, of all the exposed crewmen, I'm the only one
who has yet to succumb."
Scully looked away from the image of the black organisms on
the screen, turning to take in the woman standing beside her. She
looked... terrible, she decided. Crusher had obviously been up
for a while trying to come up with a solution to her problem.
While clearly not ill, with the increasing number of infected
crewmen, the exhaustion from her prolonged activities was clear
on her face.
"I wouldn't worry about getting infected if I were you,
Beverly. You were inoculated at Arvada, so you're probably
immune."
"I thought that might be the case," Crusher acknowledged.
"When I tried to infect blood samples from some of the uninfected
crewmen as well as myself, mine was the only one resistant to the
virus. But when I tried to use my blood as a possible base for a
cure, it just wouldn't work. It's almost as if the original
source of the disease has changed... mutated somehow. While my
immunity still works as a vaccine, as a cure my blood is all but
useless." She saw her cousin's face pale at the information. She
frowned. "Denise...?"
"Beverly," Scully whispered. "It was hard enough getting
hold of a cure for the plague on Arvada. If the virus has
mutated..."
"I know," she nodded in agreement. "It just makes it that
much harder. What information do you have on the original
outbreak? I'm afraid our datafiles aren't too helpful in this
case."
"I'd be surprised if they had been," Scully muttered under
her breath.
Crusher's eyes widened at the remark. Perhaps she had been
closer to the truth than she'd realized when she'd voiced her
suspicions to Picard. She made a note to herself to ask her
cousin about it later.
"Why don't you show me what you've got so far," Scully
continued. She turned to the wall mounted console. "Computer,
establish a link to the Eagle's onboard database, authorization
Kelly zeta one zero one three." She waited for the link
acknowledgement. "Download the files on the Arvada colony
disaster to this terminal." She turned to Crusher when the
download finished. "This is all the information I have about the
original outbreak. Why don't you take a break and look through
this while I bring myself up to date on your current problem?"
Crusher nodded. She started to turn away, but paused.
"Ummm... Denise? When you docked, I was notified that there were
two people onboard your ship...?"
Scully had wondered how long it would take for someone to
ask her that question. "Yes, my husband," she replied. "I wanted
him to remain on the Eagle. No sense in putting him at risk as
well."
"I see. Well, I'll let you get started on that data."
Crusher walked over to her desk and sat down. She saw her cousin
do the same on the second desk on the other side. With a sigh,
she turned on her terminal and started to read.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, December 4, 1998
7:29 PM
"Thank you for the information. You've both been a great
help. We'll let you know the minute we find anything."
Mulder turned away from the worried couple at the door,
walking down the immaculately maintained path to join his waiting
partners. He looked around at the quiet subdivision as he
approached the car. Kelso had been right; to say the people were
affluent was putting it mildly. The area was entirely too similar
to the part of Chilmark he'd grown up in for his comfort. He
tamped down on his sense of unease as he got into the car.
"Five down, two to go," he remarked, starting the vehicle.
"Somehow, I doubt we'll have any better luck with the next
one than the previous ones." Scully leaned back in her seat as
she massaged her neck wearily. "So far, the only things those
kids have in common has been their school. None of them really
even knew each other." She sighed, knowing already that this
entire line of investigation was going to prove futile. "So who's
next on the list?"
"Umm... The Nevilles," Horton replied from the back. "In
their case, the kid that disappeared is their second daughter
Elizabeth. Let's see, age ten, fourth grade. Maybe..."
She was interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing. As
if on cue, each of them reached into their pockets.
"It's mine," Mulder said, pulling out his phone. "Mulder,"
he answered. He immediately turned to Scully, excited. "It's the
boys. They've found something." He listened for a few moments,
then said, "Hang on, guys. Give Scully the directions." He handed
over the phone to his partner.
Scully quickly jotted down the instructions the Gunmen
relayed before hanging up. Looking down at the pad, she turned to
Mulder. "So where exactly did I take down directions to, Mulder?"
"Well, I called them after we found the bee. I thought that
if anyone was actually breeding these insects, they'd need fields
like the one I saw in Canada. I had the boys look for any likely
locations near the school that might fit the profile."
"But there could be so many places...," Scully countered.
"Yeah, but not in the middle of winter, Scully. And that,"
he said, pointing to the pad in her hands, "is it. We'll take
care of the last two families tomorrow."
"Umm... excuse me, but I'm still waiting for that
explanation you owe me," Horton said. "Could one of you explain
what bees and fields have to do with this investigation?"
Mulder glanced at Scully. She stared back for a moment, then
nodded slightly, an agreement passing silently between them. He
stared at the road as he thought of exactly what he wanted to
say. "Well, Agent Horton, how would you feel about taking a break
from the established course of an investigation to look into
something a bit more... shall we say... unorthodox?"
The question earned him a raised eyebrow from the woman
seated behind him. "What exactly did you have in mind, Agent
Mulder?"
"During April of last year," he began, "there was an attack
from a bee swarm in a school in Payson, South Carolina. Several
children were stung; one teacher was stung so badly she died on
the spot. An entomologist who had a bee hive in his possession
for study was later found dead as well. He was covered in bee
stings, but his autopsy showed that he died of smallpox."
"Smallpox?" Horton gasped. "In this day and age?"
Mulder nodded as he drove. "The children who'd been stung
displayed the same symptoms, but before they could be
definitively diagnosed as being infected with smallpox, they were
taken to a military hospital, treated, and released. Future tests
showed no signs of any infection in any of them."
"So you believe that the children from Charlottesville
General were suffering from smallpox?" Horton asked
incredulously. "That the military took them to what... to treat
them? You think they'll be returned afterwards?"
Mulder shook his head. "No, not this time. You heard the
description of the last words of their attending nurse. 'Black
eyes' are not generally a symptom of smallpox. No, I believe that
they were only using smallpox that time as an early test for
their delivery mechanism."
"Delivery mechanism? You mean the bees? Agent Mulder,
smallpox is... was the most deadly disease in its time. It's been
eradicated for so long, they don't even vaccinate against it
anymore," Horton protested.
"Can you think of a better test? Why do you think the
victims were mostly children? They are the ones more likely to be
unvaccinated against smallpox. And without immunity, a test of a
biological warfare agent is just that much more effective."
"But why bees? Surely there are better ways..."
"Why not bees?" Mulder countered. "They're small, but in
large numbers, are almost impossible to stop. You can't exactly
fire missiles at them. And given the technical resources, they
can be bred to be resistant to almost any chemical means of
stopping them. They're the perfect weapon."
Horton simply stared at the couple in front of her. After a
few moments of silence, she sighed. She turned to Scully. "Agent
Scully, do you believe this... theory? That these children were
being infected by bees carrying something supposedly more deadly
than smallpox?"
Scully drew in a deep breath before answering. "I wasn't
present for the case Agent Mulder just described," she said. A
pained note crept into her voice as she remembered the imaging
tests she had been taking at the time as part of her cancer
treatments. She smiled faintly when she felt Mulder's hand slide
across to grip hers reassuringly. "Nor am I given to wild or
unfounded speculation," she added. "However, I have seen the
effects of this new virus. And one of the symptoms is a black,
gel-like substance floating over the victim's eyes, which would
be consistent with the nurse's description. The virus seems to
affect certain parts of the human central nervous system, which
could explain the children's sudden collapse."
"Okay, let's assume for the moment that what you're saying
is even possible. Why are we on our way to a field?"
"About a year before the case I mentioned," Mulder replied,
"I was led by an informant to a bee farm across the northern
border in Canada. There were huge fields being used to feed and
maintain the bees. I think the pollen in the crops were also
transgenic, used to transfer the virus to the bees." He shrugged.
"I figured they might have a similar setup somewhere nearby. The
call I just received confirmed the plausible location of a corn
field outside of town. I thought it might be interesting to take
a look at it."
Horton leaned back in her seat, digesting this new
information. She had expected something like this from Agent
Mulder. Hell, she would've been surprised if he hadn't come up
with some outlandish theory or the other; his reputation alone
guaranteed it. But from Scully?
True, the two of them were ridiculed as a team back at the
Bureau. But Scully herself was grudgingly respected for her
scientific expertise and her levelheaded, logical approach to any
investigation. For her to even hint at support for a theory like
this... Horton shuddered at the possibility. This was supposed to
be a simple kidnapping case to let her get to know the X-files
agents. What had Skinner gotten her into here?
Up front, the X-files agents looked at each other, their
thoughts on their upcoming destination as well as their new
partner. The rest of the ride continued in silence.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Somewhere outside Charlottesville, VA
8:18 PM
The glow lit up the entire horizon. The transition from a
dark winter night into the orange light was almost startling. The
car sped up the empty road, coming upon the source of the
brightness.
"Oh my god!"
Mulder heard the gasp from the back as he searched the area
for any signs of life. Just off the edge of the road, past a
wooden fence, brilliant orange flames licked at the sky. The
entire field was on fire.
Mulder spotted a small building nestled near one end of the
field. He stopped, then turned around and parked the car facing
the direction they'd come from. "Damn, I was afraid of this. Our
investigation must have set off some flags. Looks like they're
cleaning up shop." He got out, then waited for the others to do
the same before pointing out the building to them.
"It looks like the fire hasn't reached it yet," Scully
observed. "Maybe we'll find something inside."
Mulder nodded in agreement as he headed for it. Coming up on
the desolate building, he motioned the women to stop. At Scully's
curious look, he simply pointed. In the distance, a man emerged
from the building, wearing a tank on his back, and what looked a
lot like a flame-thrower clutched in his hand.
They waited until the man had moved towards the field. They
had determined that the field was not completely ablaze yet. Some
areas were still untouched by the flames, and it looked like the
man was going to complete the job. As soon as he was out of
sight, they crept up to the door he had exited from. The door was
locked, but Mulder simply gripped the knob tight and turned,
making sure to hide his actions with his body. With a faint
groan, the locking mechanism gave way and the door swung open.
They quietly slid inside, and looked around surprised. What
had looked like a small barn on the outside turned out to be a
modest office. They found themselves in a dimly lit corridor,
with doors leading off each side. The narrow hallway ended at
some steel double doors, leading to the back. They had seen what
looked like a movable roof over that part of the building. They
proceeded to check into the other doors first.
The first two rooms were bare, although there were signs
they'd been emptied recently. The third room they checked
contained burnt equipment, including computers and disks, as well
as ashes that might once have been files and papers. Finding
nothing that could possibly provide them with any information,
they returned to the corridor, moving towards the last door
before the double doors at the end.
Mulder suddenly held out his hands, stopping their progress.
He'd heard... something inside. Someone was behind the last door;
he could hear movement, and the sound of crashing objects above
the roar of the flames outside. He quickly relayed the
information to his partners. As one, each pulled out their gun,
holding them at the ready.
Scully softly started a countdown, "Three... two... one..."
At 'one', Mulder kicked in the door, and they rushed inside.
The man inside switched off the flame gun when he heard the
door. He turned... and promptly ran into a fist that slammed into
the side of his face. He sank to the floor with a muffled groan.
Mulder pulled back, looking down at the unconscious man,
then back up to take in the contents of the room. A couple of
filing cabinets against the far wall were on fire, as were the
computers. Although they were total losses, the cabinet next to
the door was as yet untouched. With a grin, Mulder yanked it open
and pulled out the papers inside. He turned and laid them on the
table in the center of the room, spreading the papers while
Scully and Horton kept their weapons trained on the door.
"What are they?" Horton asked.
"This one," Mulder replied, separating one piece of paper
from the rest, "looks like a Mercator projection of the earth."
Horton glanced down at it curiously. "Isn't that a dot on
there where we are right now? In Virginia, I mean."
"Uh, hunh," Mulder nodded. "And it looks like there are
similar dots all over the world. Oh my god!" His voice dropped to
an awed whisper. "This is it! The locations of other bee farms
like this one. Look..." He pointed to an area in southern Canada.
"There's even one where I found that farm I told you about.
Although it looks like..." He squinted in the dim light. "Looks
like it's a different color." He frowned.
"Maybe an indication that it's been taken down?" Scully
ventured. "You did say there was no sign of it when the area was
inspected afterwards."
"Maybe," Mulder agreed. "The rest of this stuff looks like
basic farming information. This one lists fertilizer delivery
times, and this one here..." He paused, frowning as tried to
decipher the information. "Waitaminute..."
"Those are safety procedures for handling biohazards,
Mulder," Scully replied, her expression hardening.
"Wait, they have biohazardous material here?" Horton asked,
horrified. "That's..." She took in a deep breath as she put two
and two together. "Of course, the virus...," she breathed.
Mulder nodded mutely, still staring at the papers in his
hand.
"Umm... Maybe we should get out of here, guys," Horton went
on. "It's starting to get a bit warm in here."
The words broke the X-files agents out of their stunned
trance at the discovery. They looked up at each other, silently
digesting what they had learned.
"One more door to go," Mulder whispered softly.
The others nodded. They waited while he stuffed the papers
into his pocket, then headed back out into the corridor. Coming
up to the steel double doors, they paused.
"Anything?" Scully asked, her voice rising to be heard above
the noise of the fire outside.
Mulder shook his head. "The door's too thick, I think. All I
can hear is the fire."
Horton glanced at them quizzically, then watched Mulder
reach out to pull open the door. Weapons aimed, they moved in.
The blast of air startled them. Glancing around, they saw
the air vents lining the floor, walls, and ceiling of the short
hallway they found themselves in. Moving beyond the end of the
corridor, they looked around the huge room that took up the
entire back of the building. The high ceiling had some sort of
machinery attached to it, undoubtedly used to open and close it.
The walls, most of which were now ablaze, were adorned with
orange material that, on closer inspection, produced a gasp from
the agents.
Hives. Every square inch of the walls was covered with
beehives, from floor to ceiling. However, the agents had little
time to gape at their discovery. They were more concerned with
the dozen or so figures in protective suits, milling about the
room. Each carried flame-throwers similar to the ones they had
seen on the men outside. They were spraying flames onto the
walls, busily obliterating any evidence of the bee farm.
One of them turned just then, spotting the intruders. They
must have had radios within their suits, because the rest turned
almost immediately, moving towards them. The agents watched the
flame guns that had been trained on the walls move, coming to
rest pointing in their direction.
"Oh, sh..." The rest of Mulder's curse was drowned out by
the roar of the flame throwers. He turned abruptly, his eyes
widening as he shoved the women forward. "Out! GO! GO!" he
shouted, pushing them out the door. He got the door closed scant
seconds before the flames licked at the other side. Grasping the
handles, he squeezed, warping the door frame, effectively locking
it behind them.
"I think it's safe to say we've overstayed our welcome,"
Horton gasped.
"And how," Mulder shot back wryly. He glanced around quickly
when he heard the pounding on the back of the double doors.
"Let's get out of here," he said, seeing the doors start to
buckle.
They rushed down the corridor, heading for the outer door.
Behind them, they could hear the men coming after them. Once out
of the building, they ran past the burning field, the others
right on their heels.
Mulder paused, turning to fire a couple of shots, allowing
the other two time to get to the car. He looked over his shoulder
to see them get into the vehicle. Scully sat in the driver's
seat, her door open as she met his eyes. When he saw them widen,
he turned back... and ducked. The flames shot bare inches over
his head. He leapt back, rolling to his feet as he continued
running towards the car.
Scully's door slammed shut just as he slid in behind her.
With a roar, the car jerked forward, leaving their pursuers
standing in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
"Suck gas, evildoers," Mulder muttered under his breath,
looking behind him at the suited figures standing in the roadway.
He was surprised at the soft chuckle from the woman in the
passenger seat.
"Good one, DW."
He raised an eyebrow, looking from Horton to Scully. "What
do you think, Scully?" He grinned. "Don't I make a cool terror
that flaps in the night?"
Scully cast an incredulous glance at him in the rearview
mirror, her eyes moving from him to Horton before returning to
the road. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "I'm surrounded
by children."
"Hey," Mulder shot back in a wounded tone. "If you know what
we're talking about..."
"Mulder," she replied exasperatedly. "I have baby-sat
before, you know. Just because I recognize which Saturday morning
cartoon you're talking about doesn't make me an adolescent." She
paused for effect, then added, "I'll leave that up to you two."
"Hey, Lynn," he said, still staring at Scully, "you gonna
let her talk to you like that?"
Horton chuckled again.
"Shut up, Mulder," Scully muttered, smiling indulgently.
Mulder simply smiled back, turning to face the front as they
continued on their way to their hotel.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sickbay
USS Enterprise-D
Sunday, April 11, 2371
0712 hours
Images of her grandmother and a vague recollection of her
aunt floated through her head. She could hear her aunt calling
her. She turned, looking around the farmhouse, trying to figure
out where the insistent summons was coming from. "Beverly..., hey
Bev..." The soft voice pulled her away from what she was doing,
forcing her to search for its source.
"I'm coming, Auntie Day," the little girl responded
automatically, putting away her toys. She reluctantly stood up,
dusting herself off as she ran over to where she thought her aunt
was. She frowned, coming up empty.
The call was starting to get more urgent. "Beverly..." It
finally broke through the haze surrounding her. The dreamscape
shifted, the farmhouse on Arvada coalescing into the stark
interior of the Sickbay, the image of her aunt resolving into
reality just a few yards away.
"Auntie Day?" she asked, confused, her voice still low and
scratchy from sleep. She shook her head, trying to clear it, not
quite catching the momentary look of surprise on her cousin's
face. "Denise?" she corrected herself as the sleep faded away.
She rubbed her eyes, a yawn escaping her lips. "Oh, I'm sorry. I
must have dozed off there. I was having the strangest dream."
"Don't worry about it," Scully assured her, waving a hand.
"You needed the rest. But I'm glad you decided to rejoin the land
of the living. I was almost tempted to let down the quarantine
field to come wake you."
Crusher smiled wryly at her cousin as she rose from behind
the desk. She winced at the crick in her back from the awkward
position in which she'd slept. Rubbing lightly against the spot,
she walked over to the replicator along the wall. "Computer,
coffee." When the beverage materialized, she took a long sip of
the hot liquid before turning around. "Find anything?" Crusher
asked, walking up to the wall console her cousin stood next to.
Scully nodded. "I just might have. Take a look at this." She
pointed towards the image on the console screen.
Crusher looked up, recognizing the RNA strand on the screen.
Her brows furrowed in puzzlement. "The virus? What about it? I've
already looked at it more times than I can count. The structure
is unlike anything I've ever seen before. I don't..." She stopped
when she saw her cousin shaking her head. "What?"
"It's not the virus. Or at least, it isn't yours. Take a
closer look. Computer, isolate grid two one one and magnify."
The screen highlighted a section of the image and zoomed in
on it. For a second, Crusher didn't realize what she was looking
at. Then it hit her. "This is the virus from Arvada, isn't it?"
she asked in a hushed voice.
"It sure is. Computer, highlight sections 2, 19 and 42."
When the requested sections brightened, Scully turned to Crusher.
"You see these? Compare them with your virus. Computer, display
analogous section from sample E23 next to current image."
Obligingly, a similar strand popped into existence next to it.
"See it now?"
Crusher looked at the highlighted sections. "Oh my god!"
"Exactly. I'm not entirely sure if this virus ever occurred
in nature, but the one you're dealing with is definitely not a
mutation. These two samples," she said, pointing to the images,
"have been biologically engineered. The signs are unmistakable.
Once you know where to look for them, that is."
"How did we miss this before?" Crusher asked incredulously.
"I mean... I can't believe I didn't see it."
"Wasn't your fault," Scully answered, holding up her hand.
"I didn't catch it either until I did the comparison between the
two. The only places that show the signs are these," she said,
her fingers tracing the highlighted sections. "The areas where
the two strands differ. And that's not something you could catch
just by examining either strand by itself."
Crusher stared at the two strands for a few moments,
possible solutions running through her head. "Do you have any
idea what the difference is between the two RNA configurations?
Or why my blood doesn't act as a cure?"
"Yeah, I think so. First of all, I'm not even sure this
thing can be called a virus, especially since it seems to be
multicellular. But look at this. I couldn't figure out what these
sections did until I looked at your notes. You mentioned that you
thought this thing was a polymorph, a combination of carbon and
silicon based life?"
Crusher nodded, trying to relate her observations to the new
information her cousin had discovered.
"Well, going by that information, these sections would seem
to be the ones that control the balance between the carbon and
silicon aspects of the organism. The engineered areas on the
Arvada virus seem to be those that enhance the carbon base.
Whereas," she paused, moving to the adjacent image, "on the one
you've got here..."
"... the silicon base is enhanced. Of course... if what you
said about it being a deliberate infection was true, this one was
intended for the Hortas, not for us."
"My reasoning exactly."
"It must have enough of its carbon base to affect us too,
just not enough for the old vaccine to be of any use."
"Yeah," Scully nodded wearily. "The nucleotide sequence that
made up the old vaccine just doesn't fit the new configuration of
the virus RNA."
"But why? Why would anyone want to infect a colony of
Hortas? It's not like they were any threat, were they? I mean,
most of them were scientists and artists, from what the Admiral
told me."
"Beverly..." Scully cleared her throat then went on. "I
don't know. But I will tell you this. I don't think we've seen
the end of it."
"You think we can expect more attacks like this one?"
Crusher asked incredulously.
Scully nodded in reply. "I think this one was a test. You
were right about the colonists. I looked up their backgrounds.
They weren't any threat to anybody."
"A test!? I don't understand."
"This virus is a weapon, Beverly" Scully tried to explain.
"It's only good if you know it's going to work. And not just in a
lab. You have to test it out in the field. And what better place
than this? The colony isn't exactly on the beaten path. It's more
than a week from anyone who'd notice, even at maximum warp. It's
convenient, and would also minimize the casualties. If too many
died, it might call unwanted attention to the attack. This way,
it's just an unfortunate incident. Easy to brush under the rug."
"That's..."
"Cold? I agree, but those are the facts."
"Do you know who's behind this?"
Scully shook her head. "We're not sure. We've been trying to
find out who they are, but we haven't had much luck. This is the
closest we've come to them, to tell you the truth. We weren't in
this sector entirely by accident, you know," she confessed.
"We?"
"My husband and I, we were informed of something going on in
the Belisar system. I'm not sure if you knew, but all current
traffic in this area has been rerouted to avoid it. Any missions
that might stumble onto the colony have either been cancelled or
postponed indefinitely."
Crusher's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in surprise. "But
that would mean...," she managed finally, swallowing as the
disturbing realization hit her. "That would mean they had someone
in Starfleet. How high does this go?" The last question came out
in a whisper.
"High enough. We don't have any proof, of course. Actually,
I'm surprised you were near the colony at all."
"We wouldn't have been. The stopover at Belisarius wasn't
exactly a planned mission. We were ferrying an Admiral to the
colony for his retirement as a personal favor." Crusher shrugged.
"He served on the original Enterprise, so I guess he thought of
this as his farewell voyage." Her voice had an ironic tinge to it
as she considered her words. "Though I doubt he expected the
farewell would have to be said to his own friends and family,"
she added bitterly.
An auburn eyebrow rose at the comment. "This Admiral you
mentioned... Naraht?"
"Yeah, you know him?"
"We've met," she answered, her reply deliberately vague.
"Oh, this must've put an kink in their plans, whoever they are.
But back to the matter at hand. How do you want to proceed?"
Crusher took a deep breath as she considered the options
they had available to them. "Well, what you've told me is more
information than I had before you arrived. Do you know how your
mother and my grandmother came up with the original cure? Maybe
we could follow their method of research ourselves."
There was a dry chuckle from Scully. "Oh no. That would make
it entirely too easy for us." Seeing the questioning look on
Crusher's face, she continued, "I doubt we'd have any success
using that method. You see, they had the cure handed to them."
"Handed to them? By whom?"
"Beverly, this virus... Arvada wasn't the first time its
been used."
Crusher paled at the information. Her cousin had as much as
confirmed that the virus had been deliberately introduced, both
here on the Horta colony as well as back on Arvada III. 'How many
times has this happened,' she wondered, 'with no one else being
the wiser?' She shuddered. "When...?"
Scully shook her head. "Not recently. It was a long time
ago. I believe that the people who used the virus initially...
they misplaced it somehow. It didn't resurface again until
Arvada, as far as I know."
"I see," Crusher said, dejected. "So it's back to square
one?"
"Well, not entirely. We still have the original vaccine.
It'll probably be worse than useless for the Hortas... which
reminds me, did any of them survive?"
Crusher shook her head sadly. "No. They were all dead by the
time we got here."
"What about Naraht? He wasn't infected, was he?" Scully
asked, a concerned tone lacing her voice. She let out a breath of
relief when Crusher replied in the negative. "Good. I would have
hated to see anything happen to him. I hope he's under heavy
quarantine. This virus would probably affect him much faster than
any carbon based species."
"He's safe. He was placed under quarantine before the first
beamup," Crusher assured her. Her voice dropped as she added, "I
just wish I'd thought of similar precautions for everyone else."
"It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. This virus
was engineered to be undetectable and deadly. The blame should
fall on those who were behind this, not us. I learned that lesson
myself a long time ago."
"Yeah," Crusher replied quietly, not totally convinced.
Scully sighed at the tone of the doctor's voice. She knew
how the other woman felt. Both she and Mulder were experts on
assuming guilt for events neither of them had control over. It
was just a part of the lives they had chosen to lead. And she
knew, firsthand, how hard it was to put it aside and see the
situation for what it was.
"Hey, remember, we still have the original vaccine. The
nucleotide sequence that made up the formula is in my notes. I
was thinking that we could try different combinations of the
sequences, see if any of them fit the new RNA configuration. What
do you think?" For the first time since she'd arrived, Scully saw
a small spark light up Crusher's eyes.
"It's definitely worth a try," she said slowly.
Scully smiled, nodding. "Well, let's get to work then, shall
we?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Westside Hotel, Charlottesville, VA
Saturday, December 5, 1998
6:42 PM
"This had to be the single most unproductive day of my
life," Horton sighed as she pushed open the door to their suite.
It had begun, predictably enough, with them taking some
local backup back to the bee farm they'd escaped from the night
before. And continued with them looking extremely foolish at the
sight of the empty fields, not to mention the lack of a building
where they had seen the office and attached hive room the night
before.
Needless to say, the local help hadn't taken too kindly to
being called out on a wild goose chase. To his credit, Horton
acknowledged, Mulder hadn't seemed too surprised. In fact, if she
had to decide, she'd probably have described him as disappointed.
It was obvious he'd seen this type of cleanup operation before.
She herself was stunned. Not a single piece of evidence
remained to indicate what had transpired the previous night. The
fields of burning crops had been cleaned so it looked like the
land had lain fallow for at least a few months. Of the building
itself, nothing remained except for a faintly blackened piece of
hard ground. From the level of response, she knew they must have
stumbled onto something... huge. The thought brought with it a
vague sense of unease. And she had a feeling it was only going to
get worse. The following interviews with the remaining two
families, uninformative as they'd turned out, hadn't exactly
filled her with any confidence either.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her cell
phone. She flipped it open, her face stretching into a smile at
the familiar voice. "Hey honey," she said softly, glancing up at
the knowing grins on the faces of the other two agents. She shook
her head, then headed for her room.
The door closed behind Horton, leaving two bemused partners
standing in the suite's common area. "Well, I guess her love life
doesn't leave anything to be desired, eh Scully?"
"Oh, and I suppose yours does?" Scully shot over her
shoulder as she headed for her own room.
Mulder simply stood there for a moment, considering. How did
he get himself into these things, he wondered. He couldn't come
up with any answer to that that wouldn't put him in very deep
water, or very deep crap. "I am not even going near that one,"
Mulder replied at last, shaking his head, opting for the safest
way out. "Maybe we should just talk about this case?"
The smirk on her face clearly indicated that she'd
recognized the escape tactic. She would let it slide this time,
she decided, much to his relief.
He followed her into her room, jumping onto her bed. He took
off his coat and threw it over a nearby chair as he watched her
put away hers in her closet. He smiled, shrugging when he saw her
glance at his coat and sigh, then leaned back against the
headrest as he stretched.
"Don't get too comfortable, Mulder, or I'll throw you out
early," she teased.
Mulder affected a mock pout, causing his partner to stick
out her tongue at him. He tried to imagine his staid partner
acting like that the year before. Impossible, he decided almost
immediately. He still wondered at all the changes they'd gone
through in the time they'd been together. They couldn't afford to
parade it out in public, of course, but there was still a certain
something that he could see, if only because he knew her... knew
them so well. There was a relaxation of the old barriers that had
kept them apart for so long. An ease in their relationship that
hadn't been there before, an openness that he relished, that he
savored for the precious gift that it was.
Not for the first time, he cursed their enforced distance,
the image they had to project to the outside world. Of course, he
mused, he couldn't ask for a better incentive to bring down the
consortium once and for all. Anything that would allow him and
his other half to be together once and for all, not just during
stolen moments in the safety of her home.
He closed his eyes, envisioning her in his arms, his fingers
caressing the soft skin at the base of her neck. He brushed
feathersoft caresses along her collarbone, moving up... tracing
her cheeks, her lips... He sighed, a slight shudder coursing down
his body. He opened his eyes, the imaginary Scully transforming
into the real one. A real, flesh and blood one, with a concerned
expression on her face... 'Uh, oh!'
"Hey, you okay, G'man?"
A sheepish grin stole its way across his face. "Guess I lost
myself a bit there, huh?" he whispered softly.
The concern gave way to understanding as she recognized the
look on his face. She leaned forward to lightly brush her fingers
across his hand, smiling in shared empathy.
Mulder nodded. "Yeah," he bit out, summing up both their
feelings with that single word. "Well, let's take a look at those
papers, shall we?"
And that was that, she realized. A shelving of their
feelings until it was actually safe to deal with them. Scully
blinked, then resigned herself to the sudden change in the mood.
It was for the best, she knew. They couldn't afford to get mired
in the mechanics of their relationship while out in the field. It
had been a mutual decision, one made after much deliberation,
after careful consideration of all the prevailing factors. Which
didn't make it hurt any less, make it any less painful. Not for
her, and judging by the expression on his face, definitely not
for Mulder either.
Papers, right. She sighed, pulling out her briefcase. She
moved to sit beside him on the bed, spreading out the papers on
top of the mattress. These were the only remaining evidence that
the bee farm had ever existed. And for now, they were their only
lead. The map itself, while interesting in that it confirmed
their theories, had been all but useless in pinpointing actual
locations of the other farms. It was obviously a scaled down copy
of a more detailed map, and the dots marking the other locations
were large enough to cover territory the size of several cities.
The rest of the papers were not much more help either. Oh,
there was plenty of information about everything from farming
equipment and bee nutrition to delivery schedules and irrigation
techniques. But information about anything outside the farm
itself was sorely lacking. And there was nothing to indicate any
actual illegal activity at the farm itself; the existence of the
crops and bees would be more of a curiosity than an actual crime.
Even the list of biohazard safety protocols could conceivably be
argued away as being for experimental fertilizers. There was
simply nothing to connect the bee farm to the black oil virus.
The agents pored over the documents for almost an hour
without making any headway. Finally, Mulder broke the silence.
"That's it. My eyes are going to start a rebellion if I stare at
these things one more time." He sighed. "Let's face it, Scully,
we have nothing. I don't think the attack at the school was even
planned. There would have been more bees, definitely enough of
them to have been noticed, like in the school in Payson. It's
more likely that a few bees got loose by accident." He looked up
to meet his partner's blue gaze, seeing reluctant agreement
etched on her face. He glanced down at his watch. "I'm going to
get something to eat. You game? Maybe we can call the Gunmen
afterwards, see if they have anything about these other farms."
Scully hesitated, her eyes traveling back down to come to
rest on the papers. Then she sighed as well, admitting defeat.
"Yeah, I could use something. You want me to see if Lynn's
hungry?"
Mulder nodded, getting up to get his coat while Scully went
out to talk to Horton.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Lynn Horton sighed as she leaned back in her bed, the phone
clutched in the crook of her neck.
"Yeah, I'm turning in my report as we speak," she said,
peering at the laptop perched on her stomach. She punched in a
few more keys, watching the upload indicator as it confirmed the
transfer. "There, it's done. And let me just say, you were dead
right. The only way to keep an eye on these two is to get
assigned to the same case as their partner."
She waited, listening to the person on the other end, then
smiled. "No, of course not. Neither of them suspects a thing."
She chuckled, remembering when she'd first spoken with them. "You
should have seen their faces when I told them who my fiance was.
I think they actually felt sorry for me. They probably think I'm
just some green agent who ran to them for help on her first big
case."
Another pause, as she pulled up scanned copies of the papers
they'd found at the farm. "Nah, we're pretty much at a dead end
on the case. I think they're hoping one of their sources comes
through with some information, because what we have so far is
pretty pathetic."
She listened again for a few moments before replying
ruefully, "Yeah, I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Thanks for
the reminder. Well I gotta go now. I'll keep you updated on my
progress. Later..."
She hung up, then shut down her laptop. She got up, placing
the small computer into its bag and zipping it shut. She was
about to turn and head for the door when she felt the cold object
at the back of her neck. She stiffened, a startled gasp escaping
her lips.
"Not so fast, Agent Horton," came the steely voice from
behind her. For a moment, she felt fear at the amount of hatred
lacing the soft voice she'd come to associate with Dana Scully.
Suddenly she could see the side that Scully showed to the
criminals she pursued. And faced with it, she could easily see
how it made her the effective agent she was. She shivered.
"Hands where I can see them," Scully snapped. "No sudden
moves, you know the drill." The gun moved away from her neck, for
which Horton let out a silent breath of relief. "Turn around
slowly." When Horton complied, she went on, "Move to the bed and
sit down."
"Agent Scully, I don't..."
"Shut... up...," Scully cut her off, her eyes narrowing in
anger. "You don't talk unless I say you can. You got that?" When
she didn't receive an answer immediately, she leaned forward, the
muzzle of her gun pressing into Horton's forehead. "I said, you
got that?" she hissed.
Horton gulped, and nodded her reply, a trickle of sweat
running down her spine. She was afraid, she realized. This woman
was ready to kill her; she could read it in her eyes.
Desperately, she tried to remember her phone conversation, and
wondered exactly how much of it Scully had heard, and what
conclusions she'd drawn from it. Shit, she berated herself, she
should have made sure the door had been locked. What had she been
thinking? She wondered if she'd be allowed to live long enough to
get out of this one. 'Think, Lynn,' she shouted at herself, 'what
are you gonna do now?'
"Mulder!"
The shout brought her attention back to the agent in front
of her. Scully hadn't taken her eyes off her, and the steel blue
that met hers made her extremely nervous. Idly, she wondered if
Mulder would be better or worse. Considering the emotional
reactions she'd noticed in the two of them since she'd been
partnered with them, if Scully was this mad... She sighed,
resigning herself to the shortest assignment in all history. She
could see her gravestone now, "Here lies Alynna Horton, She died
of stupidity and incompetence."
"Um... Scully? Something you want to tell me?" Mulder looked
from Horton's frightened eyes to his partner's hate filled ones,
his brows furrowing in confusion. "If you don't like her choice
of restaurants, I'm sure we can work something out."
"I was going to ask her if she'd like to eat out, when I
overheard the most interesting conversation," Scully replied,
neither her eyes nor her gun moving an inch from her target. "She
was reporting on the progress of our case to someone on the
phone. She said we didn't suspect her at all, and that she'd been
assigned to us as our partner so she could keep an eye on us."
Horton closed her eyes, realizing exactly how that sounded.
She was dead, she just knew it. Maybe she'd have a nice funeral,
she thought to herself. Maybe Scully would be merciful and make
it quick and painless. Maybe... Sheesh, considering her
stupidity, maybe she should just grab the gun and shoot herself!
She snorted silently. Now there was a thought.
She frowned. Mulder should have blown up by now. She opened
one eye, then, puzzled, opened the other one as well. She had
seen Mulder's face harden as Scully laid it out for him. By now
there should have been steam coming out of his ears. Instead, he
leaned against the cabinet next to the door, barely able to
contain his mirth.
Scully must have picked up on it too, because she frowned as
well, then moved back so she could see her partner while still
covering Horton with her gun. "Mulder?" she asked, her eyebrow
rising in question.
"So let me get this straight?" Mulder held up his hand. "She
was assigned as our partner to keep an eye on us," he said,
ticking off one of his fingers. "To report on our progress," he
added, ticking off another one. "I don't know, but she sorta
reminds me of someone from oh...," he shrugged, "five... six
years ago. Don't you think?"
"Mulder!" Scully was outraged, her tone incredulous. "You
can't possibly compare..."
"Oh come on Scully. Can't you hear yourself? She's doing
exactly what you were doing when you were first assigned to the
X-files. You were more right about her back at the hospital than
you realized."
By now, Horton was thoroughly confused. Wait! Scully was
assigned to spy on Mulder and his work? That was something they'd
left out of her assignment briefing. In fact, they'd left out
quite a lot of material, she was starting to realize. And just
what the hell was going on here? Mulder was being just a bit too
amused by this entire thing for her comfort.
"I never tried to fool you about my intentions, Mulder."
There was slight note of hurt in Scully's voice now.
Mulder must have realized his error then, Horton saw,
because his expression immediately became contrite. "Sorry,
Scully, you're right. You never did that," he acknowledged,
causing Scully's expression to soften ever so slightly.
"So what are we going to do with her?" Scully was all
business again.
"I'd suggest lowering the gun, Scully."
"But..."
"I should have made the connection sooner, when we came
across your father's name," Mulder said, turning to Horton. When
she paled at his statement, he added, "By your expression, I can
assume you're not a Hunter?"
Horton shook her head vigorously, still speechless that
Mulder had figured her out.
"Of course, you won't mind if we confirm that with Dawson?"
Another shake of her head.
"James Horton?" Scully asked, remembering the information
from Horton's personal file, and connecting it with where she'd
heard the name before. "You mean she's a..." She turned to
Horton, her gun lowering. "You're a Watcher?"
Horton smiled faintly, shrugging. With the gun turned away,
she uttered a heartfelt prayer of thanks.
Scully coughed slightly. "I guess I owe you an apology," she
said, putting her weapon back in its holster. Suddenly her eyes
widened. "Um... Colton isn't... I mean... he doesn't know, does
he?" She saw that even Mulder was somewhat concerned by the
thought.
Horton shook her head. "Nope, he doesn't. Not about the
Watchers, or about immortals."
"Good. I hope you plan on keeping it that way," Scully
replied. When Horton nodded, she added, "You should have told us.
It's just..." She sighed. "We've had others assigned to us
before, Lynn, people who've undermined our investigations,
destroying our evidence and fabricating false leads."
"No, that's just it, don't you see? I couldn't tell you,"
Horton replied plaintively. "It goes against everything we
believe in. Observe, never interfere," she recited the Watcher's
motto. "It's all my fault. I wasn't supposed to let you find out
about me at all." Horton's voice dropped as she hung her head. "I
don't know what they'll do to me now. Some Watcher I turned out
to be. I got caught on my first assignment." Her tone had turned
distinctly mournful.
"I'm sure they'll understand." Scully leaned over to pat
Horton's hand reassuringly. She'd been ready to kill Horton not
two minutes ago, and now she was actually comforting her. She
shook her head at the irony. "We're not exactly in a profession
that allows for us to be very trusting," she went on. "Especially
considering the types of cases we're involved in. Actually I'm
surprised Joe had you assigned to us. No offense, Lynn, but
wouldn't a Watcher with more experience have been more useful?"
"That's actually why they *didn't* assign someone with more
experience. It's always a problem when you have immortals in jobs
like yours. If you'd done a background check on any of our
veterans in the FBI, you might have found something... well,
suspicious."
"Like an abundance of cases involving decapitation, maybe?"
Mulder ventured, smirking.
Horton shrugged. "Something like that, yeah. I was a new
face, and there wasn't anything in my official files that might
have set off any alarms. And Joe didn't think you'd make the
connection with my father."
"I suppose you're right," Scully nodded.
Horton snorted. "And if it weren't for my carelessness, you
wouldn't have found me out either."
"Oh, I don't know. If we were any other immortal, perhaps,"
Mulder said thoughtfully. "But in our case, we already knew about
the Watchers. It was just a matter of time before we realized
it." He pulled out his cell phone as he talked. "I mean, it
wasn't just what you said on the phone that tipped us off about
you being a Watcher."
"How did you know anyway?" she asked, curious. "You realized
it only after Scully told you about my phone conversation,
right?"
"Yup. And I bet that tattoo of yours still itches." He
grinned when he saw both the women stare at Horton's wrist.
Raising the phone to his ear, he explained, "I saw you scratching
at it when Scully had her gun pointed at you."
The line must have connected just then. "Joe? This is Fox
Mulder." He smiled at the cautious greeting from the other man.
"I'm doing great," he replied. "Listen, I was calling because I'm
concerned about a new partner of ours. One Alynna Horton.
According to her files, her father is James Horton. I remember
you mentioning that name in connection with the Hunters. I just
wanted to make sure she wasn't after our heads or something."
Horton turned towards Mulder, surprised. He hadn't mentioned
anything about Scully stumbling upon her earlier phone
conversation with Uncle Joe. The way he'd asked made it seem as
if he'd come to the conclusion on his own.
"That's good to know," Mulder said when Dawson confirmed
Horton's claims about not being a Hunter. "You must have known
we'd figure it out, Joe," Mulder was saying. "Naah, if you'd sent
someone with more experience, our background check on them would
probably have lit up like a bunch of christmas lights."
Lynn's jaw dropped as Mulder repeated her earlier words
almost verbatim. She saw him grinning at her as he continued, "In
fact, if we hadn't known about you guys in the first place, we
would never have figured her for a Watcher at all."
'No, they would have just gone ahead and killed me,' she
thought to herself. Nothing Mulder had said so far had been an
outright lie, just a judicial revelation of the facts.
"Thanks for the info, Joe. We'll talk later," Mulder said
before hanging up. "I guess you're clean, Ms. Horton," he
remarked, turning towards her.
"Thanks for not turning me in," she said quietly.
"Out of curiosity," Scully asked, "what would have happened
if we had?"
"Oh I'd probably get transferred back to Seattle." Horton
shrugged. "They'd have to find someone else to fill this spot.
Although, it took them long enough to get me in place, so lord
knows how long a replacement would take."
"And you?"
"I'd get stuck doing research until they deemed it safe for
me to go out in the field again, watching some other immortal.
You guys really saved my ass, you know."
"Well, you can thank us by buying us dinner," Scully
replied, smiling at her. "That's why I came in here in the first
place, to see if you wanted to go get something to eat. And I
just realized I'm starving."
"Yeah, and until we can get a lead on where some of these
other bee farms might be, we're pretty much stuck," Mulder added.
"Other..." Horton began, then stopped, stunned. "Oh my god!
I am definitely an idiot. I can't believe I didn't see it
before!" She turned and headed back to the desk beside her bed.
She pulled out her case and started rifling through it.
The other agents stared at her in confusion. "Lynn?" Scully
began.
"Hang on," Horton replied, holding up a finger. "I think I
may have found something." She pulled out a copy of the map she'd
been looking at earlier, smiling in satisfaction when she saw it.
She knew there had been something...
"I was talking to Tom earlier, and he told me the most
interesting story." She looked up at Mulder and Scully, seeing
that she'd caught their attention. "He called me from Pittsburgh.
He'd gone up there to look for a friend of his."
"His friend...?" Mulder asked, his brows furrowing in
question.
"Yeah, Nick Stein. He's an agent from the Pittsburgh field
office. Tom went with him to the Academy."
Scully nodded at that. "I think I remember him. Tall, dark
hair, athletic?" she asked.
"That's him," Horton confirmed. "Tom was at the Pittsburgh
office for a while, so they've kept in touch pretty frequently.
Before we left on this case, Tom was telling me about Nick doing
a little investigating on his own time, looking into something
not entirely on the field office approved list. Something about
suspicious deliveries to an isolated farm a few miles south of
the city."
She paused, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I didn't connect
it immediately with what Tom just told me. But apparently, Nick
had been admitted into a nearby hospital about a week or so ago.
His wife reported that he'd just collapsed suddenly. A few hours
after he was admitted, he was transferred to a facility better
able to care for him. Or at least, that was what his wife was
told."
"But..." Scully prodded.
"But," Horton continued, "when Jess... that's his wife...
when she tried to follow up on that, there was no sign of this
facility, or of Nick." She smiled grimly. "Sound familiar?"
"Extremely," Scully muttered. "What about the transfer
orders?"
Horton shook her head. "There weren't any. There was no
record of him even being at the hospital, for that matter. That's
when Jess called Tom up and asked him to help. She got the
impression that Nick's superiors weren't too keen on finding out
what really happened."
"Interesting," Mulder observed, moving to stand next to
Horton. He pointed to the map on her laptop screen. "Isn't there
a dot in western Pennsylvania somewhere?"
"Right here," Horton replied smugly, pointing at the spot.
"I guess it's time to pack, Scully," Mulder said, his voice
betraying his excitement at the new lead.
"Great," Scully shot back, then added, "but can we go eat
first? I'm still hungry."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Sickbay
USS Enterprise-D
Sunday, April 11, 2371
1511 hours
"This had to be the single most unproductive day of my
life," Crusher sighed as she pushed herself away from her desk.
"Beverly?" Scully looked up from a similar position on the
other side of Sickbay.
"Damn it, Denise." Their eyes met, locking for a moment in
mutual understanding. "It's not working. The nucleotide sequence
in the vaccine is just too long. We'd never get through all the
different possible combinations. Not in time to find a cure
anyway."
Scully sighed, mirroring her actions. "You're right. I was
hoping we might stumble onto the right combination, but there's
no way it's going to happen anytime soon. How long can you keep
your people in stasis?"
Crusher stood up and started pacing nervously. "Not too long
before their bodies start to succumb. I'd say another week at the
most. Stasis only slows down the process; it doesn't stop it
completely."
Scully nodded. "You should reach the nearest starbase by
next week, but by then it'll probably be too late for most of the
crew."
"I know." Crusher tiredly rubbed her eyes. "But I don't know
what to do anymore. God, I feel so helpless," she cried out in
frustration, dropping her face into her hands.
Scully cursed silently, moving forward. She stopped short
when she ran into the force field. "Aww... dammit." She slapped
her hands against the invisible wall in frustration, her palms
stinging from the slight electrical surge that ran through them.
"Beverly, come on. You can't give up. We'll think of something."
"What else can we do, Denise?" came the hushed protest from
the tired doctor. "We've tried everything. The damn virus is just
too strong. We'll never be able to guess the combination for the
cure. And short of someone handing us the formula, which I don't
foresee in the near future, the only way we can get a cure is
from someone who was previously infected or vaccinated. And
that's pretty damn impossible with an engineered virus."
Crusher looked up, puzzled by the silence that greeted her.
She'd expected some sort of reply to her outburst, but was met
instead by her cousin staring back at her slackjawed.
"Denise...?" she began worriedly.
"Beverly, you make the Howard name proud." Scully had a wide
grin on her face. "You're absolutely right!"
"I do... I mean, I am?" Crusher shook her head, frowning in
confusion. "I don't understand."
"You said that we need someone who was previously infected
or vaccinated."
"Right, but as I told you, my immunity is for a different
version of the virus. And there aren't any others..." She paused,
her expression clearing as she realized what her cousin was
getting at. "Are there?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but I'm going to find out. Computer,
hail the Eagle." She waited for the acknowledging chirp, then
softly called out, "Felix?"
Crusher heard the voice reply over the comm channel,
"Denise? Is everything okay?" She wondered for a moment at the
strangely familiar voice.
"Hey," Scully replied. "No, everything's not okay. Listen,
I'm in the Enterprise Sickbay with Beverly, and I need a favor. I
need a sample of your blood."
"My blood?" came the confused question. "What for?"
"I'm not sure yet. I want to run some tests on it. Do you
think you can extract some yourself and beam it over here?"
"I think so. Where do you keep the hyposprays?"
"Look in the lab. The cabinet next to the door."
"Hang on..." The sounds of movement came through the
connection as someone walked around on the other end. "Okay, I
found them. How much do you need?"
"I think ten ccs should do it. For now."
"For now!?" came the protest. "You know I always hated these
things."
"It's all in your head, M... Felix. You know you can hardly
feel them now."
"Yeah, sure, fine..."
"Don't you dare complete that..."
"Here it comes," he cut her off.
Crusher could almost hear the smile in his voice. It was
infectious, raising her spirits a little. The warning was
followed almost immediately by a faint whining noise. She watched
as a hypospray appeared on the desk next to Denise. She saw her
cousin pick up the instrument as she thanked her husband.
"No problem. Just be careful, okay," came the soft reply. "I
love you."
"I will. I love you too." Scully broke the link, looking
thoughtfully at the instrument she held in her hand.
Suddenly her previous words flashed across Crusher's mind.
"Wait, you said your husband was exposed to the virus too? Was he
a victim on Arvada?" She wondered why her cousin had quoted a
risk of infection if her husband had some sort of immunity to the
virus.
"Well, I'm not sure you could call him a victim." There was
an obvious note of pain in the woman's voice, clear evidence that
the incident still disturbed her. Scully still remembered her
worry when Mulder had disappeared in Tunguska, and the relief
she'd felt in the courtroom when he'd barged in on the Senate
hearings. "And it wasn't on Arvada," she continued finally, still
clutching the hypospray tightly. "He was given a vaccine for the
virus, then deliberately infected. So I guess 'test subject'
would be more appropriate."
"Oh god!" Crusher breathed, horrified. "I'm so sorry. Is
he... all right?"
"It never seemed to affect him, so I suppose the inoculation
must've worked." Privately, she wondered if that wasn't because
of his latent immortality, rather than due to any effect the
vaccine might have had. He had told her that the vaccine the
Russians had been testing wasn't exactly a finished product at
the time, so it was entirely possible that the former was true.
She sighed. Well, they'd find out soon enough. "I'm not sure if
the virus he was infected with was the same one as on Arvada, or
the one from Belisarius. But I want to check it out anyway."
Scully moved to one of the workbenches next to her desk. She
pulled out the vial from the hypospray, holding up the blood
sample. Gently, she placed it under a sensor scanner.
"Computer, scan sample."
A soft hum echoed around the room as a faint light brushed
across the vial. "Sample scanned," the computer replied.
"Good," Scully replied. "Now let's see what type of effect
it has on the virus. Computer, add two ccs of the blood sample to
an equal amount of blood containing virus sample E23. Project the
results on the screen, magnification level three."
"Working..."
A moment later, the screen lit up with an image of the
infected blood cells. Even at this magnification, the effects of
the virus were clear. A dark red tinge indicated the blood being
added to the sample. Scully and Crusher watched as the two
samples mixed. For a few moments, nothing seemed to happen.
Scully frowned. "Computer, audio readout of the infection
levels in the blood."
"Current infection level at 50%," came the obliging reply.
Which made sense, considering half the blood was infected.
"Nothing's happening," Scully muttered.
"Wait." Crusher held up a hand. She could see a slight
change in the color of the image. "What's that?"
Just then, the computer chimed in. "Infection level at 47%."
"Oh my god, I don't believe it! It's working! It's actually
working," Crusher shouted.
"Hang on. I'd wait till the levels drop to zero before I
start celebrating," Scully cautioned.
"Levels at 39% and dropping."
"Come on..." Scully quietly urged the readout to drop
further, watching as it slowly edged past the 27% mark.
"Levels at 21%."
"Yess..." Crusher smiled.
"Levels at 23%."
The smiles disappeared, from both their faces. "What!?"
Crusher shouted, looking from Scully to the image and back. "What
happened? Why did it go up?"
"Levels at 28% and rising."
Scully moved quickly to the scanner, adjusting some of the
parameters as she examined the image. She sighed. It had been a
slim chance to begin with, but the disappointment still hurt. "I
was afraid of this," she replied quietly. "The rising levels
aren't indicative of the virus that infected Belisarius colony."
"What does that mean?" Crusher asked, trying to get over her
disappointment at the failure of their newest approach.
"Levels at 57% and rising," the computer interrupted.
"My husband's immunity is definitely different than yours. I
think he was exposed to the original virus itself, not the
engineered ones. The initial reactions were substantially better
than anything you reached with your blood tests, right?"
Crusher nodded mutely.
"Unfortunately, my husband is also a carrier for another
rather virulent organism. Both of us are immune to it, and it
isn't contagious except by direct transfer of certain bodily
fluids. But his blood is still useless as a cure. The other virus
would simply overwhelm any positive results. We'd be even worse
off than before."
"I see," Crusher slowly replied. "There isn't a cure for
it?"
"No," Scully shook her head. "I'm sorry Beverly."
"It's okay. We'll just have to find another way, that's
all."
Scully was quiet for a few minutes, an idea slowly forming
in her head. Theoretically, it would work. But...
"Denise?"
"Beverly, I still believe what you said is the way to go."
"What I said?" Crusher asked, puzzled.
"We need a previously infected being to get a vaccine from."
"Okay, but we're back to the first question. Where are we
going to find someone like that? If this virus was engineered
specifically for the Hortas, there is no chance..."
"We'll just have to provide our own," Scully cut her off.
"I'm sorry?" Crusher frowned, shaking her head, sure she'd
misunderstood.
"We'll have to deliberately infect someone," Scully said.
"And then we have to harvest their blood for antibodies."
"You're crazy," Crusher replied, her voice rising in
incredulity. "I have a ship full of infected crewmen, and you
want to infect someone else? To what purpose? What would be
different?"
"Beverly, there is a difference. None of those already
infected can come up with a natural immunity to this thing."
"Exactly, hence the search for a cure," Crusher bit off
sarcastically.
"But I can," Scully said softly.
The comment stopped Crusher in her tracks. "I'm sorry. Did
you just say you had a natural immunity? How do you know? Have
you been infected? You never mentioned that you were immune."
"I'm not. I mean, I've never been infected. But I *can*
produce the antibodies once I am. I know it sounds impossible,
but it's true."
"How?"
"I need to talk this over with Felix first, but I believe
it'll work. I know it will." Her voice dropped as she added, "It
has to."
-----------------------------------------------------------------
USS Eagle (CG 74)
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
Sunday, December 6, 1998
1040 hours
The two men entered the dimly lit quarters. The tall
redhead in the captain's uniform stepped over to the table on one
side. He looked down at the many maps strewn on top of it,
leaning down to study them.
"Have you seen these?" he asked, turning to the shorter man
standing next to him. He held out a sheaf of papers in his hand.
"They just got piped down from upstairs." At the silent nod, he
sighed, glancing back down at the maps. "What the hell are they
thinking? If we follow this course change, we'll be skirting this
entire section of the East Pacific Rise," he muttered, tracing a
roughly circular area on one of the maps with his finger.
The other man just shrugged helplessly. "Your guess is as
good as mine, Captain." He grinned suddenly. "They're probably
just messing with our minds, sir. With all those psychology
studies they're always coming up with, this is probably another
inane idea cooked up by some pencil-pusher with degrees up the
wazoo." He paused. "Personally, I think it's all a conspiracy.
They figure we'll analyze it to death, and it'll drive us out of
our minds." His voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper. "You
know, that's how they clear the way for the up and coming
generation without too much fuss."
The captain simply stared at him silently, then blinked.
"Jesus Christ, sailor," he breathed finally. "For a moment there,
you reminded me of the prick my sister works with."
"Sir?" came the quizzical response.
"Never mind. So, Riker, is this your way of telling me not
to overanalyze this course change?"
"Sir, yes, sir."
"Smartass," the captain chided him good-naturedly.
"Following in your footsteps all the way, sir," Riker
replied smoothly.
"You're lucky there's no one else around. I'd have you
busted to ensign if anyone heard you talking to your superior
officer in that tone of voice, mister."
Riker affected a shocked look. "I'm always careful sir. No
mouthing off to the captain while in the presence of
impressionable junior officers, check."
The other man sighed. "What did I ever do to deserve you as
my executive officer, Riker?"
"You were blessed, sir."
He got a snort in reply. "Right, well, might as well lay in
the course change, I suppose."
The XO nodded and was about to leave to carry out his orders
when they were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Captain Scully? Mail call." The young crewman handed the
captain a thin envelope before leaving.
Scully fingered the envelope thoughtfully, lightly caressing
it as he considered its contents.
"Ah, romance!"
The comment interrupted his reverie. Scully darted a sharp
look at his XO. "Excuse me?"
"Aw, c'mon Bill. We both know Tara manages to email you at
least every other day. But there's just something about an
actual, physical letter that just... well, it makes the heart go
pitter pat, skipper."
"Commander Riker," Scully ground out. "We've known each
other all our lives. But I'll still thank you not to speculate
about my love life..."
"... or current lack thereof..."
"That's it," Scully cut him off, rising. His body language
conveyed irritation and anger, but the twinkle in his eyes gave
him away. He tried to hide a grin as he pointed a finger at the
door. "Out! Before I have you court-martialed, you sorry excuse
for a naval officer. Leave me to my 'love letter' in peace, will
ya?"
"All right, okay," Riker replied, his hands going up in
surrender. "I know when I'm not wanted," he added, a grin
threatening to break out on his face. He turned to go, but paused
at the door. "Hey, we still on for the game at 2100?"
"Yeah, yeah," Scully waved his hand dismissively at the
door, his mind already on the contents of his letter as the door
shut behind his XO. With a sigh, he slid into his chair,
smoothing out the letter as he read it. Riker had been right;
there was just something so much more... personal... about
getting an actual letter.
He smiled as he read through it. Nothing terribly important,
of course. If it had been anything urgent, he'd have long since
got the information by email. He wished they'd had the facilities
back during his father's days for the type of electronic access
they had now. He couldn't help remembering the times his father
would go on his tours of duty, when the only means of
communication would be the slow, irregular mail service.
He'd almost gotten through to the end when the call came.
"Captain to the bridge."
He looked up from the letter, glancing at the PA speaker. He
sighed. 'What now?' he thought to himself as he rose and headed
for the door.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Bridge
"Captain on the bridge."
The flurry of activity came to a momentary halt as the
person in question walked past the men on duty. He returned their
salutes as he walked over to where his XO stood.
"Riker?"
"Captain," the first officer acknowledged his presence. He
turned back to the radar image on the screen in front of him. "We
were just about to lay in the course change when this showed up
on the scope." He pointed out the small blip that blinked at the
very edge of the instrument's range.
Scully leaned down in thought. "Hmmm... Any idea what it
is?"
The few men in the vicinity all shook their heads.
Apparently there had already been some discussion of this before
he'd been paged. He sighed, then blinked as he took another look
at the scope, a frown building on his face. "Let me see that blip
on the charts."
Riker obligingly pulled out a navigational map, pointing out
where the radar blip was in relation to them.
"And the route our course change would have taken us in?"
The navigator used a ruler to draw a line at an angle to
their current course.
"Hunh!" the captain grunted. "Now, that's interesting," he
observed, looking up from the map, his eyes meeting his XO's.
"Oh, yeah," came the muttered response. Drawn this way, it
was clear that their course change would have put them well
outside the detection range of their radar anomaly.
"Ummm... Captain?" the navigator asked. "Do you still want
to continue the course change?"
"Hmmm? Oh, no. Not yet. Just to be on the safe side, I want
you to contact COMNAVSURFPAC. Make sure the course change order
is on the up and up."
"But sir, that'll take at least an hour."
"I should hope so," Scully replied, sharing a small smile
with his XO.
"Sneaky...," Riker mouthed at him, to which he chuckled
softly.
"Mr. Riker, let's take a look at our bogey, shall we?"
"Aye, aye, Captain. Full speed ahead, Mr. Stanton," he said,
moving forward, looking out over the still Pacific waters.
They still had a bit of time before their order confirmation
came through. The blip on the radar screen got steadily closer,
until they could finally make out what it was. A seaplane floated
in front of them, a submersible in the water next to it. It
appeared as if some sort of transfer was in progress. The bridge
crew could make out a vaguely coffin shaped object being lowered
from the back of the plane onto the deck of the submersible.
"All stop," Scully ordered.
"All stop, aye," came the rapid acknowledgement.
As the cruiser came to a slow halt beside the submerged
vessel, Scully and Riker moved out of the bridge and onto the
outer deck. The activity in the water had come to a stop as soon
as they had come within visual contact with each other. Scully
watched as Riker walked over to the railing.
"Ahoy, there," the XO hailed, looking over the railing.
Both watched as a tall, thin, blond-haired man walked across
the submarine deck towards them. He reached the side of the
cruiser, grabbing hold of the ladder rungs and pulling himself
up. As soon as he was on deck, he gave Riker a once over. Both
the captain and the first officer got a distinct impression of
unease from the gaunt man.
"You are on restricted waters. I'm afraid you'll have to
correct your course," he told the XO without preamble.
"You showed up on our radar," Riker answered him. "We were
curious why someone would be out here in the middle of nowhere.
We came to see if you needed any assistance."
The newcomer stared at the executive officer for a moment,
then answered him. "As you can see, you were mistaken. I
think..." He broke off, catching sight of Scully standing to the
side. He stared, an incredulous expression on his face.
"Morrissey?"
"I'm sorry?" Scully asked, frowning in confusion.
"I didn't realize you had been assigned... I mean, I wasn't
told...," he stammered, flustered.
"Um, I think you might have mistaken me for someone else,"
Scully cut him off. He walked closer, holding out his hand.
"Captain William Scully," he said by way of introduction.
"Oh." There was a moment of silence, the man continuing to
stare at the captain. "I'm sorry," he said, "you looked like
someone I knew." He shook his head, as if clearing it. "In any
case, as I said, I'm afraid you are currently in restricted
waters."
"Captain?"
The call made Scully turn away from their visitor. He raised
an eyebrow as the navigator walked up to them.
"Sir, I just got confirmation from COMNAVSURFPAC. We've been
ordered to implement a course change."
"Well, I won't keep you from your orders then, Captain," the
man said, turning back towards the ladder.
"How kind of you," Scully muttered under his breath as he
watched the stranger climb down onto the submersible deck. Once
down, he simply stared back up at them. Scully met his stare for
a minute or so, then turned and nodded at the navigator. The
captain of the Eagle could feel the man's eyes boring into his
back as he made his way back to the bridge.
It took a few minutes for the cruiser to lay in their new
course. As they turned and headed away, they could see the
coffin-like object disappear into the bowels of the small
submarine. The deck hatch closed and the vessel submerged,
followed almost immediately by the departure of the plane.
"What in god's name was that all about?" Riker asked of no
one in particular.
"I don't know." Scully's face grew thoughtful. "That sub
didn't look very long-range. What does sonar say is below us?"
"Uh... It looks like..." There was a pause in the response
from the sonar station. "That's funny..."
"What?"
"There's some sort of interference, sir. I can't get a clear
signal reflection from this entire area."
"Well," Riker remarked. "This place is crisscrossed with
underwater mountain chains and valleys. The sonar signal would
get bounced around like anybody's business."
"I suppose it's possible," the crewman manning sonar
replied. He fiddled with the controls, trying to enhance the
image. "But it looks more like there's something actively
blocking the reflections and scattering the signal."
"Is that a fact? Maybe our esteemed superiors have some
answers for us. Get them on the horn, Riker. Put in a request for
terrain intelligence on this area. I'm going back to my letter.
Let me know if you find anything."
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Private Vessel Eagle
Sunday, April 11, 2371
1701 hours
"Out of the question! I won't allow it. It's too risky." The
man paced in front of the seated woman, his voice slowly rising.
"But, Mulder..."
"Oh no, don't you dare... Do you even hear yourself?" he
asked incredulously. "You're talking about infecting yourself
with an unknown virus that has already got most of the crew on
that ship in stasis." He turned around, letting out a breath of
disgust. "I'm not even going to go into the logic of this."
"Dammit Mulder. It's their only chance," she hissed. "*I'm*
their only chance."
"And what if it doesn't work, hunh? What then? What am I
supposed to do, put you in stasis as well and just wait around
till they find a cure? If that even happens." He threw up a hand
in disgust. "You know there's a good chance they're going to
cover this up the moment they reach that starbase."
"I don't know about that, Mulder. This is a Galaxy Class
vessel, not to mention the flagship of the entire fleet. They
can't just make them disappear. Not after a whole starbase gets a
look at them."
"Which just makes me wonder if they'll even make it to the
base in the first place. You, of all people, know what they're
capable of. Ten to one they're monitoring communications around
the Belisar system. The Enterprise heading to the starbase
closest to Belisarius, under quarantine no less... you know
that's going to set off some major alarms. And if the Enterprise
does happen to disappear, out here who the hell is going to
notice it in time? You know there was a reason they chose
Belisarius."
"I know, Mulder. Which just makes it that much more
imperative that I go through with this. Do you want to have the
lives of all these people on your conscience? Wasn't Arvada
enough?"
"NO!" Mulder shouted forcefully, clearly indicating that was
the end of the discussion.
"Aaargh! I'm an immortal, Mulder," she cried out in
frustration. "I'll recover."
"No one knows the limits of our healing, Scully. When was
the last time an immortal was infected by a bioengineered virus?
Huh? Tell me that? How do you know this won't be the straw that
breaks the camel's back? Does being immortal mean you keep taking
chances like this?"
"No, but it does mean we have an obligation to help in any
way we can," she replied softly. "What was that thing you kept
telling me about power and responsibility?"
He knew she had him. Damn her anyway. She just had to pull
that card, didn't she? She knew he wouldn't turn a deaf ear to
that. But he had to try, one last time. "I won't lose you,
Scully." His voice dropped to a pained whisper. He stopped in
front of her, sinking to his knees. His hands reached out to grab
hers, squeezing them as he desperately tried to sway her
decision. "I can't. Please, Scully, think about this..." But he
could already tell by her expression that she'd made up her mind.
"I have, Mulder. Don't you think if there was any other
way...?"
"What about me? You asked for a sample of my blood. Can't
you use me instead? You're the doctor. I'd have a better chance
of recovering if you were treating me. What would I be able to do
for you? I'd just end up standing around helpless."
"Oh, Mulder... Do you really think you're any less important
to me than you think I am to you?"
"I don't think, Scully. You *are*..."
She raised a finger to his lips, quelling his protest. "No,
Mulder. I love you so much for suggesting it. But it just
wouldn't work. Any attempt to use your blood would transfer the
virus for vampirism as well. And we don't want to end up with a
crew full of bloodsuckers, would we?" The last was said with a
slight smile. "Talk about the cure being worse than the disease."
"Yeah, I guess that would be bad for the Fleet image." He
took a deep breath, already resigned to the outcome. He closed
his eyes, moving closer to hug her, the side of his face pressed
into her chest. He slid his hands around her back, even as he
felt hers go around his neck, hugging him hard in return. "I hate
this, Scully. Since when did we become the saviors of the human
race?"
"Not just the human race Mulder." She kissed his head, then
laid hers down on top of his, closing her eyes as well, sharing
the moment in silence.
Finally, he chuckled. "Figure of speech, Scully. So what are
we going to do? I assume we'll have to bring the good doctor into
our confidence?"
"Yeah. I don't see how else we'll be able to explain my
immune response. Besides, she's the one who'll be monitoring my
vitals and extracting the antibodies to synthesize the cure.
And... you're probably not going to like this part..."
Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Hate to tell you this, Scully,
but that part's come and gone." He saw her pull back to stare
back at him impassively, and sighed, not needing her to spell it
out. He'd already come to the same conclusion. "If we tell
Crusher, then we'll have to tell Picard too, won't we?"
They stared at each other for a moment. "Yeah," Scully
finally replied. "We won't have a choice. There's no way to
explain the cure without also revealing the immortality angle
along the way. Not unless..."
"Not unless we can get the captain's authorization to do
some pretty creative hacking and slashing through the Enterprise
computers," he finished for her. "I know we'll have to remove the
evidence, but I was really hoping we could get around that
somehow."
"I've already looked at Beverly's research, Mulder. There is
a way to get the cure without infecting me, but not in the time
we have left to us. Those crewmen on that ship have less than a
week. And the odds of us just stumbling onto the correct
combination of nucleotides to fight this particular strain of the
virus are worse than astronomical."
She paused, letting the urgency of the situation sink in.
"Considering what we're about to do, nothing less than the
authorization codes from Picard himself will do." Seeing the
unsure expression on his face, she placed a hand on his arm.
"Mulder... everything I've heard about him says that he's a man
of integrity. Both Byers and Lynn have mentioned his strength of
character several times. We could do a lot worse than confiding
in him. Remember that conspiracy in the Starfleet Admiralty that
he helped stop?"
"But he's still going to be hard to convince to help us,"
Mulder offered a final, albeit weak rejoinder.
"Maybe," Scully answered, "but then, we have someone on the
Enterprise who can vouch for us, don't we? Someone Picard trusts
implicitly?"
Mulder sat silently for a moment, his eyes closed, then let
out a breath of defeat. "Well, we might as well get around to it
then. Oh, and while we're doing that, maybe they'd like to meet
me as well. Cause there's no way I'm letting you do this without
me standing next to you, holding your hand all the way."
"I think I was hoping you'd say that." A wide smile lit up
her face.
"You don't think Beverly will faint, do you?" He pulled
back, grinning up at his wife.
She slapped him lightly. "Chauvinist!"
"Hey," he affected a wounded expression. "Can I help it if
I'm old-fashioned?"
"Mulder, that attitude became old-fashioned before you were
born."
He stood up, holding out his hands to her. "So sue me," he
quipped, pulling her up hard enough that she fell into his arms.
He reached in to kiss her before she could say a word.
She pulled back from the kiss, a dazed grin stretching her
lips. "Okay then," she said, feeling his hands slide down her
shoulder to clasp her hands, "let's do this."
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