879 lines
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879 lines
47 KiB
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Steven han, shan@nyx.cs.du.edu
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From cat@eskimo.com Thu Aug 4 05:16:22 1994
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Received: from eskimo.com by iris1.sb.fsu.edu
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via SMTP (920330.SGI/910603.SGI.RRC07)
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for destefan id AA01481; Thu, 4 Aug 94 05:16:22 -0400
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Received: by eskimo.com (5.65c/1.35)
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id AA21524; Thu, 4 Aug 1994 02:15:36 -0700
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To: csmith@diablo.premenos.com
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Subject: X-files fanfic: "Zeitgeist"
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From: cat@eskimo.com (Debbie Kraft)
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Date: Wed, 03 Aug 1994 22:07:00 -0500
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Organization: Eskimo North -- 206 For-Ever!
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Message-Id: <4r4GkWXi1evC069yn@eskimo.com>
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Lines: 858
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Status: RO
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Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
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Date: 2 Aug 1994 18:33:59 GMT
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From: madge@uclink.berkeley.edu (Peggy Mei-Ling Li)
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Subject: Zeitgeist
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NOTE: I AM NOT THE AUTHOR! Please contact Adam Webb with your comments at
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the E-mail address below. Sorry about the carriage returns also, folks.
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Does anyone out there know how to deal with them? I've never had this
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problem posting before...thanks and enjoy. Peggy
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Copies of this story formatted for use in Windows Write and plain ASCII
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text are available FREE in the X-Files Conference on CIX in the UK. The
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self extracting file containing both of the above is called Z-Geist.Exe.
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This story is ) 1994 Adam Webb. The characters Fox Mulder, Dana Scully
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and the name X-Files are ) Fox Network Programming & Ten Thirteen
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Productions.
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E-mail correspondence to the author via the Internet should be
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addressed to AWE@CIX.Compulink.Co.UK.
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ZEITGEIST
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An unauthorised X-Files story
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Adam Webb
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Mulder walked down the white marble steps leading from the
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offices of DBC-TV, a frown of puzzlement creasing his brow.
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The case was beginning to look like so many others that he'd
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read about, and one or two of which he had personal
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experience. Despite the evidence they'd gathered Scully wasn't
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entirely convinced - when was she ever - but couldn't escape
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the fact that a man was missing under decidedly suspicious
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circumstances. Whether it was truly an X-File case remained
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to be seen, but his gut feeling was that they were onto
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something, and that something involved the modern
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incarnation of an urban legend.
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Seven days ago, a freelance reporter by the name of
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Nelson Longford had failed to return after keeping a late night
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appointment with someone who'd claimed to be Major James
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Starlin of the USAF. According to Melissa, the reporter's
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distraught wife, Starlin had called at the house on one previous
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occasion. Her husband routinely met a lot of people, but she
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remembered Starlin because he'd been dressed from head to
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toe in black. Not the dark blue uniform she'd expected a
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serving officer to be wearing. On the night of her husband's
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disappearance, Melissa Longford recalled him taking a phone
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call at approximately one AM, and talking about a possible
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exchange of information concerning whatever it was that had
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been appearing in the night sky over Dayton, Ohio. Starlin
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had claimed to have little time, and so Longford had left the
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house in a hurry, taking his evidence with him. All that was
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left behind concerning the 'Dayton Disk' were photocopies of a
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computer printout and one 8" X 10" blow-up of a photograph
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taken by a competent local witness. The photocopies and
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impressive print were now in Scully's attachi case, the latter
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awaiting photoclinometrical analysis; the discernment of
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shape-from-shading. The printout was of data purportedly
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hacked from the mainframe at Wright-Patterson Air Force
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Base. The complex information it contained included
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reference to what was possibly an experimental aircraft. Since
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the night of his disappearance there'd been no trace of
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Longford. It was as if he'd vanished off the face of the earth.
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Questions to Colonel Trendell, at Wright-Patterson AFB, the
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main USAF facility in Dayton, had resulted in a point blank
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denial of involvement. The Colonel had refused to confirm or
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deny the presence of a Major called Starlin, and had rejected
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outright the accusation that anyone under his jurisdiction had
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met or spoken with Longford on the date in question. Mulder
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didn't believe him, but at the same time, he thought it unlikely
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that the Air Force were directly responsible for the reporter's
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abduction. Something else was going on, and not for the first
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time, the USAF knew what it was.
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The next stop had been DBC-TV, who had
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commissioned Longford to make a series of five minute news
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articles called In The Air Tonight, for broadcast in the current
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affairs show Dayton After Dark. Mulder's FBI badge had
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enabled him to bypass the ranks of secretaries and get straight
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to Rudy Schwire, the Senior News Editor at DBC. Schwire
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had turned out to be an abrasive individual, and had made it
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abundantly clear that he had no wish to help the Feds. Waving
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a cigar which looked as if it belonged in the mouth of a much
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more important man, he'd gone on to say that he had no ideas
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as to Nelson Longford's whereabouts, and whatever
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information the reporter had uncovered not the Bureau's
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business. Mulder had attempted to reason with him,
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suggesting that although not legally bound to reveal findings
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which, at least on the face of it, had no bearing on the case, he
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was morally obliged to help. Shwire had laughed at that, and
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commented that whatever shady company Longford chose to
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keep was his own affair. Especially if it got him into trouble.
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But, when asked if the shady company he referred to was a
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man of possibly Oriental descent, a man dressed in black, the
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editor's mood had abruptly altered. After that he'd claimed to
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be too busy to answer any more questions. Mulder had seized
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the opportunity to put him under pressure, threatening to have
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him charged with wilfully obstructing an official investigation,
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unless he co-operated. Shwire had almost broken then.
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Almost, but not quite. In the end he'd stuck to his guns,
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grudgingly offering to make private enquiries about Longford's
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sources, and report back if he managed to discover anything.
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"They got to him." Mulder muttered as he slid into
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the passenger seat of the red Ford parked outside the DBC-TV
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offices.
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"What was that?" Scully asked, glancing briefly
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across the seats. Signalling, she pulled out into the stream of
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traffic late afternoon traffic. It was Fall, and already the light
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was starting to fade.
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"I said they got to him." Mulder smirked knowingly.
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Half turning, he continued enthusiastically. "It's the MIB,
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Scully. Men In Black. A mysterious group, usually three men,
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known for terrorising those who've had a close encounter.
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Schwire may have been paid a visit."
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"Maybe he just doesn't trust anyone who represents a
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government agency. Lots of people don't like authority,
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Mulder." The flame-haired agent countered. "That's not proof
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they've fallen victim to the supernatural."
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Fox shook his head slowly. "No. It's more than that.
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Shwire claimed that Longford was keeping shady company,
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and when I gave him a description of the typical MIB profile,
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he looked as if....." He stopped himself short, unwilling to
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complete the clinched sentence.
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"As if he'd seen a ghost." Scully finished for him,
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taking momentary pleasure in her partner's scowl of
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discomfort. Turning right, toward the hotel they were booked
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into, she said. "It's not enough. We have no solid evidence to
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connect Schwire - or for that matter anyone else - to
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Longford's disappearance. Until we do, he doesn't have to
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give us the time of day if he doesn't want to."
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"I know." Mulder sighed. He opened his mouth to
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speak again, then snapped it shut. Something in the rear-view
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mirror had caught his attention. "Don't look now." He said
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wryly. "But we're being tailed."
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Scully's eyes immediately flicked to the mirror.
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Careful to give no sign by her driving that she was aware of
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possible pursuit, she studied the road behind. Signalling, she
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took a leisurely right hand turn. "The black caddilac," she said
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after a few moment's scrutiny, "three cars back, in the left-hand
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lane."
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"That's the one." Mulder said, finding himself unable
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to suppress a Cheshire cat grin.
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"I don't believe this." Scully's eyes twinkled with
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mirth. "This is like one of your fantasies."
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"And what would you know about my fantasies, Dr
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Scully." Mulder cocked a Spock-like eyebrow. "We could
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start with the reoccurring one about WIBS; that's women in
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black stockings."
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"Okay." Scully cut him off. "I get the picture. Let's
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see how much your friends really want to follow us."
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Reaching down with her right hand Scully prepared to change
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gears.
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"Woah." Mulder gently pushed his partner's hand
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away from the stick. "Not yet. First, I want to check out who's
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behind those smoked windows." Voice taking on a serious
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tone he added, "Unless they've changed their modus operandi,
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that isn't the real MIB back there. Let me off at the next
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junction. We'll see how far they want to take this."
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Scully nodded agreement. "I'll double back and come
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up behind them."
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The Ford had only been out of sight for a few seconds when
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the long black car accelerated, slowing to walking pace as it
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drew level with the agent. Mulder glanced casually toward the
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driver's window as a slight hum announced that its electric
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motor was winding it down.
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"Excuse me. Special Agent Mulder." An authoritative
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voice said, tone low and very confident. "We'd appreciate a
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few moments of your time, sir."
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"Who might we be?" Mulder asked. Peering into the
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Caddilac's interior he saw two other individuals, both dressed
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identically to the one behind the wheel. As expected, all three
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wore plain black suits with black shirts, thin black neckties and
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impenetrable sunglasses.
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"Could we talk inside the vehicle, sir?"
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"Not until I know who I'm talking too." Mulder stood
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his ground, more amused than nervous. Which from the
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fleeting expression that crossed the driver's face, was not the
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intended effect.
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"Very well." Said a voice from the back of the car.
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"I'm Major James Starlin. My colleagues and I are part of a
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special investigation unit, currently attached to the USAF."
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Before there could be any challenge, he added. "I understand
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you've been asking questions about me, and I have reason to
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believe that you're becoming involved with a matter of national
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security." Now his tone became carefully neutral. "We'd like
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to appraise you of a few facts. In private, if you have no
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objections?" Leaning to one side he opened the Caddilac's
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nearside rear door.
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"United Sates Air Force?" Mulder questioned.
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"Unless there's been a revolution, those aren't Air Force
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uniforms." He nodded at the car. "And your vehicle isn't
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official issue."
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Emerging into the lemon light of evening, Starlin
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removed his sunglasses and stood in front of the FBI man. "As
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I've already advised you, sir, we're a special unit." Hand
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dipping quickly into an inside pocket he smiled briefly,
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noticing that his sudden motion cased Mulder to stiffen, and
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produced a laminated card. This he held up for examination,
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waiting patiently until the agent was done.
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Scrutinising the details Mulder compared the tiny
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photo with the man who stood before him. Both were in their
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late thirties, and had short, swept back dark hair. Starlin and
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his image were clean-shaven, with angular features and a
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slightly olive skin tone. The shape of the Major's eyes also
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betrayed Oriental blood, somewhere way back down the line.
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In all respects the card's printed details exactly matched what
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had been said, and if forged was of a sufficiently high standard
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to fool all but the most stringent analysis.
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"It seems we have some crossed wires, here." Mulder
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manufactured a smile. Surreptitiously he glanced around to
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see if Scully was anywhere in sight. Unfortunately, she wasn't.
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Nobody on the street seemed aware that anything might be
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wrong. The good folk of Dayton were going about their
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business completely oblivious to what might be an abduction
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in progress.
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Catching the glances, Starlin said, "If you're looking
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for your partner, don't bother. There's no need to be
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concerned, she's not in any danger." He gestured, dismissing
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Mulder's look of anxiety. "Let's just say that Agent Scully has
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got a problem with a malfunction."
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Mulder considered his options, knowing that a fast
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decision was required. If the three truly were a modern-day
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incarnation of the MIB, perverse as that seemed, they'd track
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him down before he'd gone very far. Besides which, if he
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played the part they were attempting to cast him in, he might
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be able to learn more about who was really giving the orders.
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Handing the card back to the man who called himself Major
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Starlin, he decided to go with the flow. He was still armed,
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and the men didn't seem inclined toward relieving him of his
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weapon. Stepping into the waiting Caddilac he couldn't help
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wondering if Nelson Longford had been the last man to accept
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an invitation.
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Starlin, who really was a Major, slid in next to the
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man he'd taken into protective custody and nodded to his front
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seat colleagues. On that signal the engine purred into life and
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within seconds they were weaving their way through the mid-
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town traffic, once again anonymous behind black glass.
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It was a calculated risk he was taking, Mulder thought
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to himself. Dusk was not far away. The men had him alone,
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and could pull any number of stunts, but the chances were
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against anything occurring that would be detrimental to his
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health. If only a small percentage of what he remembered
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about the plethora of MIB cases in UFO-lore was true, then
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whatever pressure they tried to apply would not take the form
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of physical abuse. But this time they wouldn't get away with
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their head games. Nobody should be unaccountable.
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Starlin took a micro-cassette recorder from his inside
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breast pocket and clicked it into record mode.
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"Let's speak plainly." His tone was crisp, but not
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hostile. "We are aware of your official interest in the
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Longford case. As you know, Longford recently made
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unsubstantiated claims concerning unidentified aircraft in the
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skies above Dayton. I understand that Mr Longford's wife has
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also claimed that her husband met with me on the night of his
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disappearance." For a fleeting moment the major's tone
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seemed tinged with regret, then the inflection was gone and it
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was back to business. "It's my job to inform you that none of
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these claims are true, and that further investigation into the
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matter is not required."
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"On whose authority do you speak?" Mulder asked.
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"Failure to comply with my request may result in the
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loss of your badge, Agent Mulder." Face and voice becoming
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a reflection of official policy the Major recited from memory.
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"Under section 23, subsection 17 of the Pentagon's ruling on
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matters of national security, interference with matters of..."
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"I'm not buying this, Major." Mulder interrupted.
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Sitting up straight he poked a finger at his questioner. "If the
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military are stupid enough to test-fly a new type of aircraft
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close to a large town, then they can't complain if the locals get
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interested. I can see how there may be a case for confiscating
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evidence. But what possible reason is there for imprisonment
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without trial? That is what's happen to Nelson Longford, isn't
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it, Major? America maybe screwed-up, but last time I checked
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it was still the land of the free."
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"Freedom, Agent Mulder, is a double edged sword."
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Starlin replied quickly, voice turned icy-cold. "Those who
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abuse it sometimes find themselves in too deep. So deep, they
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drown."
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"Is that some kind of threat?" Mulder met the major's
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stare head on, refusing to be intimidated. "Maybe we should
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take this up with your Commanding Officer. Who did you say
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he was?"
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"I didn't." Starlin's gaze didn't waver for an instant.
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"What I will tell you, is that the United States Air Force has
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nothing to do with Longford's disappearance, and is not
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engaged in testing any experimental aircraft over Dayton. Do
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I make myself clear?"
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For a moment Mulder said nothing, understanding
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that Starlin might just have made a veiled admission. "So
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we're talking genuine unidentifieds." Unable to keep the edge
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of excitement from his voice he used a military codeword.
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"Angels. You're talking about Angels."
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"Drop the case, Mulder." The major ordered tersely.
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"A little over a week ago, something big, silent and
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silver was prescribing what can only be described as
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aerodynamically impossible manoeuvres in the sky between
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Dayton and Richmond." Mulder responded, now veering
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toward the belief that the man seated beside him was a member
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of some covert department, masquerading as MIB for reasons
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unknown.
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"Simple misidentification." Starlin said, sounding as
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if he'd made the speech a thousand times before. Which was
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almost true. "Like the Loch Ness Monster, or Bigfoot. People
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see what they want to see. Most of the time it's no more real
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than Casper."
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"How about men in black who terrorise and kidnap
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US citizens." Mulder responded acidly. "Looking at you,
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Major, I'd say that phenomenon has some basis in reality."
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"There are reasons." The major stated flatly, refusing
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to meet the agent's accusing eyes.
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"How about giving me some of those reasons,
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Major." Mulder said. "If you aren't holding Nelson Longford,
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who is?" When no reply was forthcoming, the agent shrugged.
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"Okay, then I guess we'll have to keep looking. Sooner or
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later, we'll make a connection."
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"Christ! I could do without this." Starlin sighed
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deeply. Voice pitched almost too low to be heard he said,
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"I'm probably gonna regret telling you this, Mulder. But
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you're wasting your time, and mine." Suddenly seeming a lot
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older he turned to face the agent. "You can't find what isn't
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there. Nelson Longford isn't anywhere that you, or I, could
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reach."
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After fifteen minutes of driving around in circles, Dana Scully
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concluded that her partner had indeed been snatched, while a
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set of lights to stick on red had held her up for vital minutes.
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At least she was attributing the problem to mundane electrical
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failure. Any other explanation and she'd be straying into
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Mulder's territory. The fact that he'd deliberately placed
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himself in jeopardy now seemed farcical. Inwardly she was
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reprimanding herself for having gone along with his wishes.
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What Mulder had done certainly wasn't by the book, and if she
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couldn't get him back then they could both kiss goodbye to
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their careers. But that wasn't going to happen. Forcing herself
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to remain calm and think logically, she started back toward the
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hotel. When Mulder was able to make contact, that was where
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he'd expect her to be. Just a couple of blocks away from the
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building, she changed her mind. If Mulder's abductors were for
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real, then they might be watching the hotel, waiting for her to
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return. There was no point in stepping into a potential trap
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until she was sure of how she was going to deal with it.
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Heading East for a few miles, she turned onto the forecourt of
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the first motel she could find, and booked in under a false
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name. The ID was one of three she had available for just such
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emergency situations. Parking the car around the back of a
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cabin, where it couldn't been seen from the road, locked the
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door behind her and sat down to think things out.
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Mulder was unconventional, to say the least, but he
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wasn't stupid. He'd thought that the men in the black Caddilac
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were impostors, and that's probably all they were. Therefore,
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he was unlikely to be in any real danger. Taking him would
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have been an act of bravado. Unless, that was, he'd gone
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voluntarily for some reason or other. Mulder had a habit of
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doing things like that, and it occasionally drove her crazy.
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Several times during the first few cases on which they'd been
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paired she'd considered requesting reassignment, but every
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time she'd decided to give him another chance. Mainly
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because, underneath the boyish good looks and spooky
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behaviour, there was something about Fox Mulder that she
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had seen only rarely in human beings. He was genuinely
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dedicated to pursuit of truth, no matter where the chase might
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lead or how dirty it became.
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In the front of the black Caddilac, lieutenant's Warby and
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Draeger ignored the at times heated conversation taking place
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behind them. They'd both heard its like on many previous
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occasions, and knew the most likely outcome. Not even the
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FBI had the authority to interfere with Operation Zeitgeist; the
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most highly classified secret in the history of the United States.
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Warby, presently the man at the wheel, drove onward
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heading for an expanse of open land between the communities
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of Piqua and Springfield. A wide open tract, rented by the
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USAF. Behind the impassive mask of his face he was smiling.
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Night was falling fast, and before the breaking of another dawn
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his long masquerade among the Betas would be at an end.
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Everything was going according to plan, and Starlin, the last
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acquisition of his mission, did not have the slightest suspicion
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that one of those he chased was only feet away.
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Lieutenant Al Draeger was in a more pensive frame
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of mind than the man he thought of as a colleague. Two years
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past he'd volunteered for Zeitgeist, thinking it would be a good
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career move. It had been entirely his own decision, so he had
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no one else to blame for his state of unease, but some days the
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realities of the job gave him the creeps. Zeitgeist ground men
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had the task of locating witnesses to authentic UFO incidents
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and convincing them that keeping quiet was in their own best
|
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interest. Which, in many was, was the truth. Whenever
|
|
possible, any potentially verifiable evidence was confiscated.
|
|
Thus reducing the unfortunate citizen's chances of an
|
|
encounter with those who would take much more than
|
|
evidence. Using the same black 'uniform' as true MIB was a
|
|
ploy leftover from the beginnings of the Operation, when it
|
|
had been adopted with the intention of spreading confusion.
|
|
Legend said that the planners had also hoped to encourage
|
|
mistaken encounters with real Men In Black; the self-styled
|
|
Alphas. While indisputably successful in their primary aim, the
|
|
secondary intention had never worked. Real MIB could tell,
|
|
instantly, when they were in the presence of their own kind.
|
|
They knew, without the need for words or identification cards.
|
|
Of the very few face to face encounters between the two
|
|
groups only four had been concluded successfully for the
|
|
impostors. Four, in what was fast approaching twenty-five
|
|
years of covert war.
|
|
|
|
"Let's take a walk." Starlin said as the Caddilac
|
|
rolled to a halt. Reaching for the door catch he flashed a brief,
|
|
reassuring smile to the FBI man. "Relax, Mulder. Whatever
|
|
you may think, we're on the same side."
|
|
Mulder followed the black-suited major as he set off
|
|
up the side of a steep, grassy hillside. It was full night, but the
|
|
light of a three-quarter moon illuminated the countryside well
|
|
enough. Looking around from the top he was slightly
|
|
disturbed to find that there were no buildings in sight. Starlin
|
|
hadn't spoken for more than half an hour, and his silence was
|
|
fuel enough for the seeds of unpleasant imaginings to begin
|
|
growing. Over the years several writers, researchers and
|
|
scientists who'd become involved with the UFO phenomenon
|
|
had either vanished, or died under mysterious circumstances.
|
|
"The reason I brought you here," Starlin swept a hand
|
|
through the air in an all-encompassing gesture, "is because this
|
|
area is clean. No bugs, nowhere to hide, and no chance of
|
|
accidental disturbance."
|
|
"An ideal killing ground, maybe?" Mulder said,
|
|
preparing to reach for his holstered pistol.
|
|
"I'm no hitman." Starlin almost laughed. Moving
|
|
with deliberate slowness he unbuttoned his jacket and held it
|
|
open for inspection. "See, I don't even have a water-pistol."
|
|
Letting the jacket's flaps fall together he ambled closer to the
|
|
agent. "Believe it or not, termination is a last resort.
|
|
Unnecessary in the majority of cases. Only fools have to die,
|
|
Mulder, and you're no fool. I don't expect you to agree with
|
|
our methods, but you will understand when I say that there are
|
|
certain facts that the American people cannot be told. Facts
|
|
which, in all honesty, they are not ready to hear."
|
|
"Alien technology?" Mulder asked. Swallowing hard
|
|
he wondered if he was about to hear another off the record
|
|
confession from another undercover operative who knew that
|
|
Earth was being visited.
|
|
"No, that's not what I meant."
|
|
Mulder frowned. "If the Dayton Disk is not
|
|
extraterrestrial, and not ours, what is it? A foreign aircraft?"
|
|
"That is a matter of national security." Starlin folded
|
|
his arms across his chest and stared at the agent. "Longford
|
|
got too close, and now he's out of reach. That's all you need to
|
|
know."
|
|
"It isn't enough."
|
|
"Back off." The Major enunciated very clearly.
|
|
"That's the best advice you'll ever get."
|
|
"Supposing I don't want to take it?"
|
|
Starlin sighed audibly, and half turning away, said,
|
|
"Then you will be noticed, Agent Mulder." He held up a
|
|
warning finger. "Believe me, you wouldn't want that to
|
|
happen."
|
|
"Noticed by whom?"
|
|
"Those I represent." Starlin said, quickly adding, "If
|
|
you're lucky. They can turn your life upside down. Think no
|
|
job, zero credit rating. Think stories planted to screw your
|
|
remaining credibility. By the time they're done, nobody this
|
|
side of Donald Duck would take you seriously."
|
|
"Must be a big, dirty secret, you're guarding."
|
|
Mulder smouldered. "I have friends, Major. Busting me is
|
|
one thing. Agent Scully is another. If I take a fall for doing
|
|
my job, she would feel obliged to find out who was
|
|
responsible, and why they acted in such an overtly criminal
|
|
manner. You'd have to wreck her life too. Or maybe you
|
|
could save time and do us both together. Then more people
|
|
would begin asking questions. So they'd have to be dealt with.
|
|
Pretty soon you'd have to silence the whole of the FBI. Now,
|
|
correct me if I'm wrong, Major, but I don't think you or your
|
|
bosses have that kind of power."
|
|
"You're a real pain in the ass, Mulder. You know
|
|
that" Starlin looked away, taking a few moments to think.
|
|
"I've seen copies of official documentation referring
|
|
to an aircraft codenamed Zeitgeist 516." Mulder played his
|
|
ace. "There's radar confirmation of its speed, the distance
|
|
covered, estimated size of the craft, etc. I'd be willing to bet
|
|
that no US or foreign aircraft matches those specifications."
|
|
"It isn't what you think." Starlin insisted. "This isn't
|
|
like anything you've encountered before."
|
|
"No? Then tell me who snatched Longford? I don't
|
|
understand." Running a hand through his hair, Mulder added,
|
|
"If you guys are on the level, why wear the funeral suits? This
|
|
isn't just about invasion of US airspace. There's too much here
|
|
that doesn't make sense, Major."
|
|
For a long moment the major said nothing. Then,
|
|
turning to face the agent, he spoke with the conviction of a
|
|
man who knows that what he's saying is the inviolable truth.
|
|
"I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this, Mulder. Because
|
|
when I'm through you'll wish you didn't have the answers.
|
|
Knowledge means responsibility, whether you want it or not.
|
|
Like the President, you'll keep your nose out and your mouth
|
|
shut! You'll think about what you've been told every damn day
|
|
and night, until your head hurts. But you won't be able to
|
|
speak about it to anyone. That's the deal. The lid must stay on
|
|
this thing. Accept it, or you'll leave those who make policy no
|
|
choice. Believe me, if it's deemed necessary, they will take
|
|
you and your partner out, no matter how bad the stink gets."
|
|
Mulder's mind reeled. There were so many
|
|
unanswered questions, so much that he needed to know. If, as
|
|
was seeming increasingly likely, Starlin and his crew were
|
|
covert operatives, the what had been said was not a bluff. He
|
|
didn't like agreeing to the concealment of truth, but was smart
|
|
enough to know that sometimes, that was the way it had to be.
|
|
Finally, the desire to learn the truth was what made his choice.
|
|
He'd deal with his conscience later.
|
|
"Okay." Mulder nodded, feeling like Adam in the
|
|
Garden of Eden.
|
|
"You've stumbled over the tip of an iceberg." Starlin
|
|
said enigmatically. "An iceberg in the sky. You see, Agent
|
|
Mulder, my boys and I aren't the only Men In Black."
|
|
|
|
Taking advantage of Major Starlin's absence, Lieutenant
|
|
Draeger had returned the car's radio to the frequency of
|
|
WROK FM, the local soft rock station, and was tapping out
|
|
the beat of a tune against the dashboard. By perverse
|
|
coincidence the song being played was Take Me Away, the
|
|
Blue Oyster Cult's naive plea to the pilots of supposedly
|
|
extraterrestrial craft.
|
|
It was a song that Lieutenant Warby knew quite well.
|
|
He'd heard it on several previous occasions, when Draeger had
|
|
dialled up WROK. One line in particular always made him
|
|
smile openly. It was when Eric Bloom sang - 'The men in
|
|
black, their lips are sealed.' His amusement was for the simple
|
|
reason that he knew how very true the lyric was.
|
|
There had been much progress, since the beginning.
|
|
Under Zeitman's guidance they'd taken what they needed with
|
|
little challenge. No significant government was willing to
|
|
publicly admit the existence of a hidden, virtual nation, whose
|
|
technology was far in advance of anything Western science
|
|
had produced. Therefore the vast majority of planet Earth's
|
|
citizens remained blissfully unaware. The few that did
|
|
uncover the truth were either taken and turned, or left to be
|
|
discredited and ridiculed by their own governments. Back
|
|
when it all began, the world's great military powers would've
|
|
used their atomic weapons, if only they'd known precisely
|
|
where to hit. But by the time they knew it was Brazil, they
|
|
were also aware of how high the cost of a nuclear 'accident' in
|
|
that area would be. They were also frequently reminded by
|
|
humiliating displays of aerial superiority that the saucers
|
|
could, and would if necessary, be used directly against the
|
|
Houses of Parliament, the Kremlin or the Whitehouse. Over
|
|
the years the original group of less than two hundred Alphas
|
|
had expanded almost a hundred fold. Those abducted to form
|
|
slave labour groups had carved out an entire city, most of
|
|
which was under the inaccessible heart of the Brazilian rain
|
|
forest. World-wide, the number of Alpha humans was now in
|
|
excess of two-hundred-thousand.
|
|
Warby stole a sideways glance at his wristwatch. It
|
|
was nearly time. His walk among the dark side of humanity
|
|
was almost at an end. Turning to face the man who sat next to
|
|
him he knew that he would not miss him. Like all with his
|
|
mindset he saw nothing wrong with the systematic rape and
|
|
plunder which his kind had inflicted upon the planet from the
|
|
moment they'd gained ascendance.
|
|
"Goodnight." Warby said quietly.
|
|
"Huh." Draeger cocked his head to one side. "What
|
|
was that?" The answer was a lightning swift movement of
|
|
Warby's right hand, inside which was concealed a small
|
|
hypodermic needle. Plunging it into the side of Draeger's neck
|
|
he emptied its contents.
|
|
"We've waited a long time for an opportunity like
|
|
this." Warby explained to the drugged man. Casually
|
|
brushing aside grasping hands he continued, "We'd take you
|
|
and turn you if we could, Draeger. But we can't, you've
|
|
already been through the process."
|
|
Face turning purple and tongue poking out from
|
|
between his lips Draeger clung to consciousness. Mouth
|
|
emitting a horrible dry sucking noise he lurched toward the
|
|
Alpha, clawed fingers seeking eyes. But the required energy
|
|
was no longer his to command. Eyelids flickering shut he
|
|
slumped back against the offside door and became still.
|
|
Altering the frequency of the Caddilac's broadcast
|
|
radio, Warby picked up the dashboard-mounted microphone.
|
|
"Cloud 5." He said, knowing that there would be no spoken
|
|
response. "Commence free fall." Head turning to regard the
|
|
oblivious Major, he said, "Rendezvous at 18:30 hours."
|
|
|
|
When an hour and a half had passed with no word, Scully
|
|
decided that the time for waiting was over. Mulder was in
|
|
trouble, and she had to do something. Flipping open the
|
|
spring-loaded locks on her tan attachi case, she withdrew the
|
|
plain manila enveloped that contained the evidence collected
|
|
from Melissa Longford. Spreading out the photocopied data
|
|
and the single picture on the dressing table, she switched on
|
|
the anglepoise lamp and directed its beam onto the print. The
|
|
majestic multi-coloured disk was centre top, with what seemed
|
|
to be open ground beneath. The tops of some trees were
|
|
visible in the distance, and at the bottom of the picture, at the
|
|
extreme right edge, half of a sign was just visible. Mounted on
|
|
a white-painted stake it was partially blurred due to the angle
|
|
at which the photograph had been taken. There was part of an
|
|
emblem, but not enough to make it recognisable. Scully
|
|
turned the picture every which way, but couldn't make out any
|
|
more detail.
|
|
Reaching for her address book Scully found Melissa
|
|
Longford's number and dialled. "Hello. Mrs Longford? This
|
|
is Special Agent Dana Scully. I'm sorry to bother you, but if
|
|
you could spare me a few more minutes of your time, there's
|
|
something I'd like to show you. Yes, it is rather urgent. Okay,
|
|
I'll be with you in approximately ten minutes."
|
|
|
|
At first the reporter's wife claimed not to know anything about
|
|
the specific area over which the Dayton disk had been
|
|
photographed, or about the blurred sign. But Scully knew she
|
|
was lying on both counts. The lie was evident in every nuance
|
|
of her body language, and her avoidance of eye to eye contact.
|
|
"There may not be much time, Melissa." Scully tried
|
|
the woman to woman approach. "So if you can tell me
|
|
anything, anything at all, it has to be now. Agent Mulder went
|
|
missing, while trying to discover the truth about what
|
|
happened to your husband." Scully held the photograph
|
|
before Melissa Longford's eyes, forcing her to look again. "I
|
|
think they may both be somewhere in this area. Now, can you
|
|
tell me where it is?"
|
|
Melissa bit down on her lower lip, caught between the
|
|
desire to help and loyalty to her husband. Nelson had told her
|
|
that the precise location of the sightings was to stay secret.
|
|
Nobody, especially not anyone official, was to be told unless
|
|
he gave the okay. The problem was, Nelson wasn't around to
|
|
make that decision. And if she refused to help, he might never
|
|
be around.
|
|
"It's about two miles East of the town." Melissa
|
|
confided, again finding herself on the verge of tears. "That
|
|
signpost," she touched the photograph, "is one of a dozen,
|
|
planted all along the perimeter."
|
|
Closing the car door, Scully buckled up and drove
|
|
away from the Longford home. The sign, warning trespassers
|
|
to keep out, was one of several marking the perimeter of land
|
|
rented - but not actively used - by the USAF. Assuming that
|
|
the same people had taken both Nelson Longford and Mulder,
|
|
it was possible, even likely, that they were hidden somewhere
|
|
on the site.
|
|
Thumb dialling numbers on her mobile phone as the
|
|
drove, Scully left an urgent message for Colonel Trendell at
|
|
Wright-Patterson AFB, and checking that no one was
|
|
following, headed out of town. What she'd set into motion
|
|
wasn't, strictly speaking, proper procedure. But then, neither
|
|
was what she and Mulder had become involved with. Giving
|
|
Colonel Trendell the benefit of the doubt she'd placed him in a
|
|
position where he virtually had to take action. And by so
|
|
doing create a situation for which he would be accountable.
|
|
|
|
"The craft seen over Dayton was manufactured right
|
|
here on Earth." Starlin asserted. "It's one of the Cloud series,
|
|
which were based on designs for something called the
|
|
Kugelblitz, or ball lightning fighter. Plans captured from Nazi
|
|
Germany at the end of Word War Two."
|
|
"Captured by the US?" Mulder asked.
|
|
"Partly. The technology under development was
|
|
spread out between several widely scattered projects. Roughly
|
|
two-thirds of what was left intact ended up in US hands. The
|
|
rest went to the British and the Soviets. All three nations put
|
|
their top people to work on perfecting what the Nazi's had
|
|
started, with varying degrees of success. We came closest,
|
|
Mulder." The Major said with just a hint of pride. "Before
|
|
Gilbert Zeitman, our chief avionics designer, went missing."
|
|
"Zeitman Zeitgeist." The agent thought aloud.
|
|
"Right." Starlin nodded. "It's German for time ghost,
|
|
which is a cryptic description of what we're facing. Anyway,
|
|
the official line on Zeitman was that he died in an auto
|
|
accident. Hell, there's even supposed to be a matching body in
|
|
his coffin." The major offered an insincere smile. "It was the
|
|
biggest snow-job since Chappaquiddick."
|
|
"And Zeitgeist 516?" Mulder prompted.
|
|
"One of Gilbert's Zeitman's newest models." The
|
|
Major supplied. Pausing to reflect for a moment, he continued.
|
|
"The guys who got Longford, the other men in black, are the
|
|
same people who fly Zeitman designed saucers."
|
|
"Who are they?"
|
|
"The first were American. But now they come from
|
|
all parts of the world. It started in 1963, with a consultant
|
|
neurologist attached to NASA. He found a way to enable
|
|
selected individuals to perform mental tasks up to seventy
|
|
percent more efficiently."
|
|
"Seventy!" Mulder let out a hiss of astonishment.
|
|
"What was it, some kind of mind expanding drug?"
|
|
"You're thinking astronauts on acid, right?" Starlin
|
|
smiled, this time in genuine amusement. "No, it was nothing
|
|
chemical. What he discovered was that pulsed light, of a
|
|
particular intensity and alternating wavelength, could be used
|
|
to trigger a massive reaction within the human brain." He
|
|
paused, searching for an appropriate analogy. "I suppose you
|
|
could describe it as being like an epileptic seizure in reverse.
|
|
Instead of shutting down, the brains of some test subjects
|
|
seemed to open up, radically increasing their short term
|
|
memory and speed of thought. And if that sounds like the
|
|
dawning of a new age, that's because it was. Only not quite the
|
|
way we figured. The main problem was that the length of time
|
|
to which an individual remained super efficient was
|
|
unpredictable." Starlin massaged the bridge of his nose with
|
|
forefinger and thumb. "By using boosted scientists to work on
|
|
the problem, it was solved in under a year. Or so it was
|
|
thought. Those treated with the refined light process had a few
|
|
hours or days up at seventy percent, then dropped down by
|
|
around ten percent, with no subsequent deterioration." The
|
|
Major flashed a humourless smile. "Still sounds good, huh."
|
|
Trying to make the connections for himself, Mulder
|
|
nodded. "So how widespread was this?"
|
|
"By the late 60's, roughly one fifth of all NASA
|
|
personnel, and a handful of high rollers in the military and
|
|
political machines had been treated. There seemed to be
|
|
entirely beneficial effects; quicker reactions, near photographic
|
|
memory, vastly increased learning capacity." Starlin held up a
|
|
finger. "Don't get it wrong, Mulder, the process did not turn a
|
|
smart guy into a genius. It just made him a lot better at what
|
|
he could already do."
|
|
"But it was tried on a genius, wasn't it, Major."
|
|
Mulder said, feeling as if an icicle had slipped into his mind.
|
|
"Gilbert Zeitman." Starlin nodded, then looked idly
|
|
to the dark sky. "What we didn't know a God-damned thing
|
|
about, at the time, was what came to known as the Zeitgeist
|
|
effect." He tapped his forehead with an extended index finger.
|
|
"Some say that what happens is a sort of schizophrenia; an
|
|
alternate personality dormant in all people. The other main
|
|
school of thought is that we're dealing with a separate,
|
|
symbiotic life form. Something which has always been a part
|
|
of mankind. Whatever, the fact is that all of those who were
|
|
subjected to the refined process eventually suffered a total
|
|
change of psychological profile."
|
|
"Can it be reversed?" The agent asked, horrified.
|
|
"Not without turning the subject into a vegetable.
|
|
The keyboard junkies who go for the symbiote angle came up
|
|
with the name Zeitgeist, suggesting that whatever took over
|
|
might be the psychological remnant of Neanderthal man. A
|
|
literal time-ghost. Only those who turned are about as far
|
|
removed from Fred Flintstone as the Cray computer is from an
|
|
abacus! The thing is, Mulder, despite the changes they
|
|
appeared to be just the same. Even the husbands and wives of
|
|
those boosted didn't think anything was wrong. Only later was
|
|
it discovered that the Alphas, as they call themselves, had been
|
|
working together, planning in secret toward the day that
|
|
Zeitman was boosted. They stole Zeitman's prototype saucer,
|
|
with the man and all his work aboard. The craft's own anti-
|
|
radar technology - early stealth - prevented us from getting an
|
|
accurate fix on their course."
|
|
"When was all this?" Mulder asked, fascinated by
|
|
what he was hearing, and wishing that Scully was there to hear
|
|
it too.
|
|
"The third of August 1971. Each year since then the
|
|
Alphas have grown in strength, and in numbers. They snatch
|
|
people from all over the globe, sometimes because they've
|
|
seen something they shouldn't, mostly because they're in the
|
|
wrong place at the wrong time."
|
|
"My God."
|
|
"We're fighting back as best we can, but they're
|
|
geographically based in a place where military strikes are not a
|
|
realistic option. All we can do is wait and hope we can catch
|
|
up in time. We got people working on the aeronautics,
|
|
boosted up to seventy percent using the temporary process.
|
|
But with them, in addition to the time factor, we have the
|
|
problem that the process only works once on the same
|
|
individual. There are only so many suitable personnel"
|
|
Starlin gave a shrug of resignation. "Until we can compete in
|
|
the air, they've got the drop on us." He paused, as if the
|
|
statement he was about to make was physically painful. "You
|
|
see, Mulder, the Alphas claim that this world originally
|
|
belonged to their kind of human, and they have no intention of
|
|
sharing it indefinitely."
|
|
"That is correct, Major." Lieutenant Warby agreed.
|
|
|
|
Foot down hard on the accelerator, Scully arrowed in pursuit
|
|
of the light in the sky. She'd noticed it while approaching the
|
|
western edge of the restricted zone, and realised at once that
|
|
what she was seeing was not any kind of conventional aircraft.
|
|
What she was seeing was the Dayton Disk.
|
|
At first it had appeared as a silvery white blob of
|
|
light, darting at incredible speed from one part of the sky to
|
|
another, stopping dead each time it reached new co-ordinates.
|
|
Scully had been willing to write it off as some sort of unknown
|
|
natural phenomenon, until it had begun to descend. Cloaked
|
|
in a shimmering haze of pale blue, strobe-bright light, the craft
|
|
was oval shaped and, she guesstimated, slightly bigger than a
|
|
747 airliner. Coming straight down between the clouds, it cast
|
|
a stark circle of brilliance onto the ground below, illuminating
|
|
two or possibly three figures. Scully couldn't tell if any of
|
|
them was Mulder.
|
|
Approaching the site from the opposite side Scully
|
|
could see the flashing lights of what she knew were military
|
|
vehicles. The message she'd left for Colonel Trendell had
|
|
stated that unidentified, possibly hostile intruders were on
|
|
restricted land. At the time she'd made the call she hadn't
|
|
known that for certain, but it had seemed like a reasonable bet.
|
|
Plus it was a way to ensure that if she needed back up, it
|
|
wouldn't be too far away.
|
|
|
|
Descending in eerie, absolute silence, the incredible craft had
|
|
no protuberances, control surfaces or windows that Mulder
|
|
could make out. But then, it was hard to make out anything
|
|
against the blinding glare.
|
|
"Run, Mulder!" Major Starlin bellowed. "It's me
|
|
they're after. Take the car and get away, now."
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The agent didn't hesitate. There were times for
|
|
heroics, and this wasn't one of them. Leaving the two black-
|
|
clad figures circling each other, he darted toward the Caddilac.
|
|
Hand on the door catch he paused, unable to resist a backward
|
|
glance at the craft designated Zeitgeist 516. A narrow circle of
|
|
intense blue-white illuminated Starlin and his subordinate,
|
|
causing the Major to stop in his tracks as if frozen in place.
|
|
The beam emanated from the dark underbelly of the craft,
|
|
which looked like a miniaturised black hole. Heart thumping
|
|
against his ribcage Mulder decided that he'd seen enough.
|
|
Jerking open the door he dived behind the wheel, knowing that
|
|
there was no time to concern himself with the condition of the
|
|
unconscious figure occupying the passenger seat. Not until
|
|
they were safe. It was then that he discovered the ignition key
|
|
was missing.
|
|
"No!" Mulder struck the steering wheel with the flat
|
|
of his hand.
|
|
Putting the car between himself and the saucer,
|
|
Mulder drew his pistol and aimed over the roof. He knew that
|
|
the weapon would probably be about as effective as a pea-
|
|
shooter, but it was better than nothing. Or at least it would be,
|
|
if he could stop shaking for long enough to shoot straight. A
|
|
hundred yards away Starlin stood before the other MIB - the
|
|
real MIB - as if paralysed. With the saucer hovering silently
|
|
no more than twenty feet above them, the victor turned and
|
|
held up something for Mulder to see. It took a few seconds for
|
|
him to realise that he was being shown the missing car keys.
|
|
"When we want you, Agent Mulder, we know where
|
|
to find you." Warby said ominously, allowing the keys to fall
|
|
glittering to the ground.
|
|
Before Mulder could even think to react, the centre of
|
|
the craft seemed to grow darker still, and the blue beam was
|
|
abruptly discontinued. Replacing it were five pencil-thin rays
|
|
of green laser light, defining a pentagonal area around the two
|
|
men. A second later they were lifted clear of the ground, and
|
|
like passengers on an invisible elevator, rose up into the belly
|
|
of the saucer. Once they were inside something slid shut with
|
|
a barely audible hiss of compressed air. Without warning the
|
|
craft shot straight up, fast as a high velocity bullet, and in
|
|
seconds had climbed thousands of feet into the sky. As it got
|
|
further away, nearer to the thin layers of atmosphere, its
|
|
motion seemed to slow, and its colour dull. At the last it was
|
|
indistinguishable from the other stars.
|
|
|
|
Still shaking a minute or two later when Scully screeched to a
|
|
halt, Mulder was at first unable to speak. The things he'd been
|
|
told, the things he'd seen, were not what he'd expected. Starlin
|
|
had been right. The Zeitman saucer's were a matter of national
|
|
security. He should have known when to back off. Now he
|
|
had to be very careful what he said, and to whom.
|
|
"What was that thing?" Scully asked. Indicating the
|
|
fast approaching military contingent she added, "Better get
|
|
your story straight, Mulder. Here comes the cavalry."
|
|
"I don't know." Mulder lied, poker-faced. "They
|
|
dosed me with some kind of hallucinogen." Manufacturing a
|
|
look of haziness, he added, "I guess it was something I just
|
|
wasn't meant to see."
|
|
"Then we'll have to report it as unidentified." Scully
|
|
said, her tone a mixture of relief and, strangely,
|
|
disappointment.
|
|
"Right." Mulder forced himself to grin. "Or maybe
|
|
one of those amazing weather balloons."
|
|
|
|
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