Stitch in Time - part II
by Weed, Matthew
* * *
Saturday October 31, 1997 12:00 PM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in the outer solar system.
"Gentlemen, our mission nearly failed today because information
concerning agents Mulder and Scully has not been disseminated throughout
the command staff. If another incident like the one that occurred on the
bridge happens, we may have to resort to force in order to deal with
Agent Scully. Therefore, I want to get as much information on the table
as we can so that such an incident doesn't happen again. Quite frankly,
we can't afford the risk, and I suspect that Agent Scully can't either."
Kirk said quietly from the head of the table in the E-deck briefing room.
"Jim, I've been hard pressed to get through Spock's materials, but from
what I've seen, it's a miracle that we've done as well as we have."
"What do you mean, Dr.?"
"From what little I've seen, she's been kidnapped, shot at, threatened,
and violated in all kinds of ways that are utterly beyond my ability to
accept. The problem is that many of the things that happened to her seem
to have been the result of actions of the government of the current-day
United States, or actions of organizations like the one that Spock had to
get help from in order to get the Vulcan ship off-planet without any
civilians finding out about what we were doing. If she knew that we were
dealing with them, I'd bet that she'd be even less willing to trust us
than she is now."
"I see." said Kirk quietly. "What about the memory treatments?"
"I'll be honest, Jim. I don't like having to do something like that to
another being one little bit. She is sentient, and deserves to have
control over what is in her mind, no matter how damaging it may be to her."
Before Kirk could respond, Spock's voice filled the room: "Dr. McCoy it
is not the risk to her that is the concern in this case. As it
currently stands, Agent Scully's knowledge is more than enough to
seriously affect the future of your world, and by extension, that of the
Federation. Destroying the memory of anyone in this manner is as taboo
in Vulcan culture as it is to you. However, if the billions of humans as
yet unborn on your planet are to have the future that we view as our
past, the destruction of her memories of her presence on the Enterprise,
as well as the twelve hours before she came aboard is essential."
"I know, Spock, but it doesn't keep me from havin' a few misgivings,"
McCoy said quietly.
"Those misgivings, Dr. McCoy, are one of the characteristics about you
that make you one of Star Fleet's best surgeons."
McCoy was clearly surprised by the compliment, and before he could divert
the momentum that Spock had created, Kirk stepped in with other matters
to consider.
"Gentlemen, I want to get back to this matter, but before I do, Mr.
Scott, what can you tell me about the Vulcan scout craft?"
"Well, Sahr, I've already got my people workin' on it, and with the
exception of some structural damage and weapons scarrin' on the aft-port
side, the only damage that we've been able ta' find is to the ship's port
warp nacelle. As ye've directed, I've only had Vulcan crew workin' on
the ship, but if we're ta' get things completed in time we'll hae' to get
some other crew involved sooner or later."
"I see," said Kirk thoughtfully. "Mr. Spock, someone will need to make
an inspection of the ship's internal structure, and we'll also need a
head count on the remaining crew. You've got that detail while Mr. Scott
gets a list of people together who might be able to help him with his
duties."
"Very well, Admiral," Spock replied. "I should point out, however, that
there is a strong possibility that the crew may be conscious."
"I know, and if they are, you're the best man to come up with an argument
that they'll accept for both remaining on board, and resisting whatever
urges they may have to scan the ship."
"Yes, sir." Spock replied, the characteristically arched eyebrow the only
manifestation of the doubt and concern that he was experiencing.
"All right," Kirk said, unless anyone objects, I think that we have a
plan for dealing with the Vulcans. So that it's fresh in all of your
minds, I want to hear what Mr. Spock has to say about his contact with
the "consortium" and any thoughts he has concerning Agent Scully's memory
treatments and the return of the two agents to Earth."
"Admiral, I spoke with the man whom our historical records led me to
believe was the head of all operations for the Consortium on the North
American continent. Through judicious application of the truth, I was
able to convince him of the illogic of attempting to find out what had
happened to the two agents. As you directed, he believes that ours is a
Vulcan mission and does not know about Star Fleet or the United
Federation of Planets. It is my belief that if Dr. McCoy can effectively
wipe her memory, Agent Scully will not represent a threat to either
herself or history. However, there is also a need for an effective
method by which the agents can be returned without any ... undue notice
being taken of their absence. When we departed, it had been agreed that
the Consortium would develop a plan which we would follow unless we have
overwhelming objections. Further communication is to be carried out
through electronic messaging, and I believe that the plan will be made
"Fine," Kirk replied. "I think that it's best to have people on the
scene come up with an arrangement this time, and the fact that the
"Consortium" is involved will also cover our tracks so far as Agent
Mulder is concerned."
"That's all well and good, Jim, but that still doesn't tell me how you're
plannin' to get the young lady to trust me enough for me to do a memory
wipe on her."
"Well, Bones, I was trusting your bedside manner to take care of that,"
Kirk said with a grin.
"I was afraid of that." McCoy muttered.
"Dr." Spock said, his body language broadcasting to all who were watching
how much he was controlling at that moment, "Should you be unable to gain
her willing participation, there are Vulcan methods which could be used
to open her mind to the reeducative process. However, as they have not
been tested on humans, and are known to have notable effects on the
personality of Vulcans, whose mental training is ... more complete than
that of most humans, I can only suspect that there may be greater risk to
Agent Scully should these methods prove necessary."
McCoy, who was clearly shaken by this somewhat open discussion of a
technique that Spock had used at least twice on Kirk many years earlier
in order to help him forget both Rayna Copek and Edith Kieler, shook his
head at the Vulcan before turning back to his commander.
"Jim, Spock's idea is a good one, but I think that we should hold it in
reserve for a while, and only use it if I can't get her to come around on
my own. After all, Mulder would probably notice any fluctuations in her
personality, and I don't think that we want them probin' too far into
what happened, as I'm not totally sure that I can completely erase the
memories."
"What do you mean by that, Dr.?" Kirk demanded.
"I can erase the conscious memories without any trouble, Jim, but she may
have a few subconscious flashbacks from time to time. If she got the
right kind of therapy, or encountered some kind of stimulus that I can't
predict when I actually take her through the process, they might be able
to partially break the block that I'll be putting in.
"Why can't you just put a total block on the memories?" Kirk asked.
"I can't put in a total block because if I did, I'd have to wipe her
memory clean and we'd have to rebuild her personality in the same way
that we had to with Uhura during the Nomad incident."
"I see," Kirk said, only partly satisfied, but also aware that McCoy
would do everything that his medical ethics, the patient's health, and
his understanding of the techniques would allow.
"Sahr, it sounds to me like the best plan would be to work on gettin' the
lass's trust if we can, and then, failin' thot, we can use the other
techniques." Scott said from further down the table.
"Agreed, Scotty, but I'm not sure that there's a fail-safe way to do it,"
McCoy said before Kirk could jump in.
"Well," Scott said, "If I were in'er place, I'd want to see computer
records, histories, anythin' thot'd give her a clearer understanding of
the situation that she's now dealin' with. Unless she's totally paranoid
..."
"Which she isn't," McCoy interjected.
"As I was sayin' unless she's totally paranoid, she'll probably realize
that we couldna fake all of those records just for her within a few hours."
"True," McCoy muttered, seeing the logic behind Scott's argument.
"Mr. Scott, I should point out that if we give Ms. Scully full access to
our records that there will be even more to wipe from her memory than
would otherwise be necessary." Spock said.
"Thot's true, Mr. Spock, but ye're forgettin' thot we need her trust in
order to effectively wipe her memories in the first place. If there are
a few more detailed ones to take care o' when ye and Dr. McCoy are
workin' things out, it'll be a lot less work to wipe them than it would
be to deal with her mind when she's resistin' your efforts."
"Logical," Spock admitted.
"Since we have an agreement," Kirk interrupted, "it'll be the doctor's
job to make sure that Ms. Scully has a familiarity with the library
computer."
McCoy nodded, understanding that Kirk also hoped to get Scully to begin
to trust the man who would be charged with wiping her memory later.
"Is there any other business?" Kirk asked. After a few moments of
silence, he saw that there was none, and dismissed his officers back to
their duty stations.
--------
A Stitch In Time: VI
By Matthew Weed
Summary and Disclaimers in Part 0.
Saturday October 31, 1997 19:56 PM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in interstellar space.
"...As you will doubtless recall, the risk of contact with non-Vulcan
personnel poses a serious threat to the integrity of the time stream
until such time as we can ensure that the crew have either remained
unconscious, or the vessel has been repaired and released." With these
words, Spock closed his final briefing on the duties that would occupy
the fourteen Vulcans currently serving aboard Enterprise for the next
several days.
Spock moved to the emergency override panel which lay near the small
ship's primary airlock, and began working out the sequence that would
allow his hastily collected team of scientists and engineers entry to a
vessel whose class and design had been superseded by other, superior
craft nearly two hundred and fifty years in his past. The long seconds
that it took him to figure out how the control panel worked allowed him
to reflect on the technological progress that had been required to get
from this ship to the great star ship thaat he called home. He was
forced to admit, to himself at least, that it would be very interesting
to see how such a vessel functioned while in space. As there were no
functioning models of this class of scout craft left on Vulcan, he was
more than mildly curious to get the chance to compare an actual example
of the class to the computerized models which were all that remained of
these ships on Vulcan.
The outer door of the airlock opened with a nearly silent pneumatic hiss,
and Spock quickly moved to occupy the space in front of the door in order
to ensure that anyone inside the craft would be unable to see out. He
recognized the inherent difficulty of working on a craft which could not
be scanned as a result of the continuing radioactive flux from the
damaged warp nacelle which, in spite of Mr. Scott's efforts, still hung
from the aft-port side like a damaged limb. However, unlike his human
crew mates, he had chosen to ignore the frustration that this kind of
difficulty normally caused them, and instead chose to prepare for all
exigencies. Even so, he had to strongly repress the surge of relief that
nearly overwhelmed his control on seeing that no one was on the other
side. It was also most satisfactory to see that all crew appeared to be
alive, if not fully healthy.
"It appears that the crew members are, universally, rather seriously
injured." Spock said as he stepped through the short passage. "However,
the healing trance has done much for their condition, and it appears that
some will become conscious within the hour. As you know, we cannot use
standard medication on them until after they have come out of trance, or
until Dr. McCoy can provide us with acceptable stasis equipment. I
believe that our time will be most profitably used in an attempt to begin
repairs on the ship's interior fixtures in order to support the Dr.'s
equipment."
With this, the team settled down to work, the Vulcans' typical efficiency
allowing them to quickly clear up much of the minor damage that the
Klingon attack had caused. However, Spock knew that their greatest
difficulty, the three crew members who were nearing the point at which
they would have to be brought out of their healing states, would have no
simple solution.
* * *
"Captain Spock, the commander is now at the point at which she must be
revived," came Lt. Soron's voice over Spock's helmet communicator.
"Very well, use standard procedures, but remain suited," Spock said,
knowing that the crew of the science vessel must not be allowed to divine
the racial make-up of his team. As it was, the clear helmet visors would
allow the science vessel's crew enough of a look to know that they were
dealing with Vulcanoids, but, if possible, it would certainly be
preferable to withhold the knowledge that they were being assisted by
Vulcans from the future.
"She is conscious, sir." Soron reported a few minutes later.
"Very well, I shall speak with her," Spock replied.
Moments later, he stood over the supine form of the ship's commanding
officer, noting that the serious concussion and broken bones that she had
apparently suffered appeared to be fully healed.
"I am T'klir of Vulcan, commander of this vessel," she said quietly, the
dignity so characteristic of their race showing through despite the
exhaustion that always resulted from an unusually long time in the
healing trance.
"I am Spock, second in command of this facility," he replied. "I am
honored to have the opportunity to speak with you Commander. I must know
what happened to your vessel so that we may repair it and send you back
to Vulcan as quickly as possible." Spock said. As a result of Mr.
Scott's careful examination of the ship, Spock already knew more than
enough to make the necessary repairs on the vessel. however, he could
not admit this to the commander without risking further questions that
might force him to release information that could damage the time
stream. Though he would never admit it to Dr. McCoy, he had to
acknowledge, to himself at least, that there were times when it would be
useful to be able to tell a lie. However, as had been demonstrated many
times over the two centuries leading up to Spock's "present", truths
could be very well disguised by carefully monitoring the information that
was made available.
"After the completion of a successful scientific mission over the third
planet of the solar system some 10.7 of that world's light years from
Vulcan, we were in final preparation for departure when an unidentified
vessel appeared on close-range scan and fired a high-powered disrupter
bolt at our vessel, incapacitating the entire crew as well as our craft.
After the weapons impact, I, apparently mistakenly, believed that we
would crash into the largest ocean on the planet, thereby remaining
undetected by the civilization which exists on that world, and therefore
took no action to destroy the vessel as concealment of the wreckage
seemed a near certainty."
"Your assumption was justified," Spock said. You did, indeed, impact in
the Pacific basin, however, your vessel crashed on one of the islands in
the Hawaiian chain, currently possessed by the nation-state known as the
United States. This command was ordered to Earth in order to ensure
that, for the present, definitive knowledge of the existence of
non-terrestrial civilizations continues to be withheld from the Terrans."
"What agency gave those orders?" the commander asked.
"The agency that gave those orders has requested that both they, and
those who crew this vessel remain anonymous."
"I see," replied the commander.
"It is also my duty to request that your crew be put into stasis until
such time as we can release your vessel as it is necessary to ensure that
your crew not receive certain technological knowledge from those who are
working to repair your craft."
The commander quickly realized that her benefactors would not give her
more information. Normally it would be her responsibility to ensure that
her crew remain safe. however the combination of the fact that they had
nearly been the cause of irreversible contamination of a planetary
civilization, and the knowledge that this unknown power had prevented
that contamination, suggested that it would be necessary to trust these
people. The fact that they appeared to be derived from Vulcan stock was
interesting, but ultimately irrelevant to the decision that she had to make.
She had gotten the chance to look at the vessel that had fired on her
ship, and knew that it was too small to support the kind of repair
facilities that were, obviously, being used now. There was the
possibility that another, larger, craft had been called in, but she
doubted that such an action would have been taken in order to make
repairs on a craft which could just as easily have been destroyed. As a
result, she saw only one response which she could logically make.
"Very well," she said, and prepared herself for a return to
unconsciousness.
* * *
Captain's log: Old Earth Date November 1, 1997. James T. Kirk recording:
Fortunately for all concerned, Mr. Spock was able, barely, to convince
the three Vulcans who came out of healing trance to be placed in stasis
until their craft has been repaired. Mr. Spock has been very reticent on
the matter, and I suspect that his appeal may not have been made along
accepted lines in the Vulcan culture. He has reported, however, that
repairs are going well, and has stated that he believes they will be
completed within two to three days depending on the availability of
materials from Mr. Scott.
Dr. McCoy is growing increasingly concerned about Agent Scully who has
refused to sleep since her entrapment during the silent running operation
nearly two days ago. Considering the limited rest that she got in the
days before the incident, the Dr. estimates that she has had no more than
fifteen hours sleep in the last six days, and none in the last thirty
hours. However, due to her obvious mistrust of all ship's personnel, we
have decided, for the moment, to avoid the use of sedatives at the risk
of causing her to lose what little trust she has been willing to extend
to us.
* * *
Monday November 2, 1997:
The Star Ship Enterprise in interstellar space
"Dr. Scully, I think that you should take some time to rest. You won't
do your partner any good if you're a patient here, and not just an
observer," said McCoy after the extent of her exhaustion had become
all-too-clear to him.
"You know that I don't feel comfortable sleeping while we're here, and
Mulder is unconscious," she replied, sinking with increasing ease into
the oft-repeated argument which had become part of the scenery in this
strange place over the past few days.
"Look," McCoy said, his patience at an end. "If we'd wanted to do
something to your partner, we would have done it already. I've been
reasonable in allowin' you to be here so that you could observe
everything that my staff has done for him over the last few days, but
that doesn't mean that I'm not just as responsible for your health while
you're aboard. If you don't go voluntarily, I'll have to sedate you
forcibly."
The terrified look that McCoy received in recompense for his threat told
him that, as had happened all-too-frequently over the past few days, he
had just done a fairly good job of destroying the woman's trust in him.
He knew that after his recent comments, he didn't have many things that
he could do, so he fell back on what he hoped would be a satisfactory
intermediate solution.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know that he's important to you, and
that you're afraid that we'll do something to the both of you, but I'm
here to promise you, colleague to colleague, that you won't be harmed by
anyone aboard this ship."
Intellectually, Scully knew that the man who called himself McCoy was
right. She'd been conscious for nearly sixty hours straight, with barely
twenty hours' sleep in the preceding five or six days. Her body was
nearing collapse, and despite the need for continuing vigilance, both for
herself and for Mulder, she was rapidly nearing the point at which she
wouldn't be able to go on. However, she would have to establish a few
ground rules before giving in to what she recognized as good medical advice.
"I'm not leaving sick-bay," she said, the determination in her voice
clear despite her obvious exhaustion.
"I didn't expect that you would," McCoy replied, the need for diplomacy
the only thing keeping him from allowing the sense of victory that he
felt to show in his voice. "In fact, your old bed's still open, and I'm
more than happy to let you have it."
"Fine, then you can move it in here."
"No." McCoy replied, the determination to make damned sure that she would
follow at least some of *his* rules sharpening his tone. "You won't get
any sleep if you're in here watchin' him, particularly when my staff has
to move about in here to take readings every couple of hours. You need
at least twelve hours of sleep young lady, and if I've got to knock you
out and throw you over my shoulder to make sure that you get it, then
that's what I'll do."
Despite her learned paranoia, even Scully could hear the tone of a doctor
truly worried about someone for whom he felt responsible. Scully knew
that she would have to begin reading the truly vast amount of information
concerning Federation history, civilization and culture that she had
managed to dig out of the ship's computers earlier that day. There were
also files about herself and her partner that she would need to read, and
she would just have to fit these in to her schedule as best she could.
However, for the moment, no matter how much she might be afraid to do so,
she acceded to McCoy's wishes and slumped forward, the cumulative
exhaustion of the last few days overwhelming her where she sat.
Moments later, James T. Kirk was more than a little shocked to see McCoy
carrying the small red-haired woman toward a biobed where he gently lay
her out and covered her with some blankets that he pulled out of a
near-by storage closet.
"Bones, I didn't know that you made a habit of carrying your patients
around sick-bay," he said, one of his trademark grins spreading across
his face.
"Yeah Jim, I could do it with her because it's obvious that she follows a
healthy, low-fat diet, *and* her doctor's instructions, unlike the man
who is three weeks overdue for his annual physical." said McCoy, seeing
immediately that he had scored a point.
"All right, Bones, far be it for me to tell you how to handle things
here," said Kirk with a sigh.
"I'm glad to see that you're finally learnin' who's boss around here,"
McCoy said with a grin. "...Seriously though, I assume that you weren't
down here in order to check up on my bedside manner."
"True," replied Kirk. "I think that we're going to be out of Sol system
for five or six more days, and then we're going to have to return the
agents to earth no matter what level of trust you've engendered in Ms.
Scully. Spock says that she hasn't done very much work on the computer
at all, and I think that we're going to have to push her to do it if she
doesn't soon."
"Well, Jim, I can't speak to her psychological state with any clarity at
the moment. With Agent Mulder still on the mend down here, and the
regular injuries that always occur when we've got people on major
engineering projects, I've been too busy to read the background material
that Spock wants me to. It's a lot of work, and I've not had time for
it. What I can say is that I'm concerned that she refuses to trust us at
all, despite the openness with which we've treated her. Usually in these
cases, unless the patient is a true paranoid, it should be possible to
make some kind of breakthrough reasonably quickly."
"Have you had any luck at all?"
"No, Jim. I don't have the faintest idea what to do next. I've made
sick-bay accessible to her, allowed her to stay with her partner, haven't
pushed her to do much about her own condition until just now, and have
done everything to prove to her that we don't intend her any harm."
"Are you sure that she's not paranoid?" Kirk asked concernedly.
"I think that she's learned not to trust people, but her general behavior
isn't characteristic of a true paranoid psyche."
"Well, Bones, we know that she's been through some traumatic experiences
relating to the Vegans, and Spock thinks that she may have some lost
memories as a result of what was done to her. Considering how important
it is to get some kind of trust built up with her, I want you to put
Chapel in charge here for the duration of this part of the mission, and
get everything that Spock thinks that you should read cleared so that you
have as much knowledge of her as possible. You're our best hope for
getting this done, and as both you and Spock said a couple of days ago,
we've got to get her to trust us if we're to avoid causing permanent
changes in her personality."
"You're probably right, Jim." McCoy sighed. "I'll tell Chapel that she's
in charge here until further notice."
"Good," Kirk said, rising to leave. Before he was out the door, however,
the ship's red alert klaxons sounded, and practically simultaneously,
Spock's voice rang over the ship's com system.
"Red alert, Red alert," his voice intoned. "All decks to battle
stations, admiral to the bridge."
The Admiral moved quickly to the nearest com panel, and made his
characteristic announcement in high-stress situations. "Kirk here," he
snapped.
"Admiral, a large number of craft are presently on our long-range
scanners. Type and affiliation unknown."
"Understood, I'm on my way," Kirk said.
Kirk's sudden departure from sick-bay prevented him from hearing McCoy's
frustrated cursing, caused by his anger at what such alerts usually meant
for his staff, as well as the frustration caused by the certain knowledge
that the tremendous barrage of noise would doubtless wake Scully.
* * *
Moments later, James T. Kirk was sitting in the command chair on
Enterprise' bridge, adrenaline and that sense of 'rightness' that he
always got from sitting there in any situation sharpening his nerves and
leaving him with a sense of readiness for whatever the galaxy might throw
at him.
"Report," he said, his voice cutting through the din from the
still-active klaxons.
"Sir, long-range scans have picked up at least eight different vessels on
a range of courses that appear to converge near the Alpha Centauri
system. Computer telemetry suggests that at least three of these craft
will cross the most efficient routes between our present position and the
release point," said Spock, his head bent over the science station.
"If we take an evasive course that will allow us to avoid their current
flight plans, will we be able to avoid their scanners?" Kirk asked.
"Affirmative, sir. However, such a course will add 2.57 days to our
current ETA, requiring some modification of the final release point."
"Damn," Kirk muttered.
"Admeeral, I have plotted all possible wariants of our course taking into
account possible wariations in the aliens' courses. I think that if ve
prepare for maneuwers at sustained high-varp speed, and maintain varp
eight or higher, that ve can get back to Earth only four hours behind our
prewious estimated return time." Chekhov said quietly from the
navigator's station/weapons console.
"You said warp eight or higher, lieutenant, why the uncertainty?"
"It vill depend on how good their scanners are, sir." Chekhov replied.
"Mr. Spock,"
"Unknown at this time, sir. Although our scanners are several times more
accurate than those on contemporary Vulcan craft, only one of the three
craft which will come within 500 billion kilometers of our previous
flight plan is Vulcan. The others are unknown to Federation records, and
although their engine technology appears to be comparable to, or slightly
less than, that of the Vulcan craft, I can make no estimate concerning
their sensory capabilities at this range."
"Can you make sure that they don't see us?"
"Affirmative, sir, though doing so will require careful vigilance on the
"Do what you can, gentlemen, I needn't remind you of the risk of our
being seen, particularly when we're traveling on warp technology that is
three generations ahead of what is out there at the moment." Kirk said.
He expected no direct response from either officer, and so was not
surprised to see them bend over their stations, already setting up the
necessary protocols to make sure that Enterprise and her secrets would
remain safely hidden.
He did, however, need to get Scotty up to speed on the situation, and
quickly punched up a tie-in to his chief engineer. "Kirk to
engineering," he said after tapping one of the myriad switches on the arm
of his chair.
"Engineering, Scott here,"
"Scotty, we've got some current-day craft in between us and our release
point. " he said. "We're sure to lose a couple of days on that leg of
the mission, but Mr. Chekhov thinks that he can get us back to Earth only
a few hours behind schedule if your engines are up to it."
"Well, sahr, it depends on what the lad's thinkin' to ask o' my wee bairns."
"I'm not sure exactly what I'll need from you Mr. Scott, though I would
expect that we'll be at warp eight for quite some time, with a possible
requirement for maximum speed on very short notice."
"Aye Sahr, that shouldna be a problem, so long as we're not plannin' to
be at warp 10 for more than an hour or so."
"We'll do what we can up here Scotty, just have those engines ready at a
moment's notice."
"Aye Sahr, thot we will," Scott replied before closing the channel.
Kirk suddenly remembered that they had guests aboard who would be very
surprised to hear an alert called on a craft such as this in English.
"Spock, I certainly hope that our passengers didn't hear that last
alert," Kirk said.
"No sir, they did not, as Dr. McCoy has installed the stasis equipment,
and the crew have all been placed in stasis until repairs have been
completed. As you have ordered, however, I have directed the members of
the repair team to remain at their current duties unless specifically
ordered to leave them until such time as the science vessel has been
released for transit to Vulcan."
"Good," Kirk said with a sigh, glad as always for Spock's efficiency.
* * *
McCoy turned from his computer just in time to see Scully's back pass
between the main sick-bay doors. He knew that she had only gotten a few
minutes of sleep, and had absolutely no business moving about the ship,
and hoped, despite the obvious impossibility of his task, to convince her
to go back to bed.
For her part, Special Agent Dana Scully was on a mission. Her father had
been in the navy, and it didn't take that kind of background to know that
if a red alert had been called, the ship must be in some kind of
trouble. The thought that anyone could pose a threat serious enough to
cause these people to bring the ship to full alert status was more than
enough to convince her that she had to find out what was going on before
she could go back to sleep. She hadn't counted on the doctor catching
her as quickly as he did, but wasn't surprised to hear his voice only
seconds after she'd slipped out of sick-bay either.
"Agent Scully, I think that you should get back to bed." he said as he
caught up with her at the turbolift entrance nearest to sick-bay.
"Dr. McCoy, Would you go back to bed if you were in an alien environment
which you haven't deemed safe, with another person who is totally
defenseless?" Scully asked, determined to do what she could, to both deal
with these people, and represent her own interests as well. The serious
risk to her physical health that her emotional state posed weighed
heavily on her, but she knew that if she didn't do what she could to
satisfy herself about this latest problem, she would be unable to rest.
"In most circumstances, I'd be just as determined as you are, but I'd
hope that I'm also a good enough doctor to know when I'm unable to
function rationally, and incapable of making decisions that will be best
for the people that I'm sworn to care for."
McCoy realized within moments of his comment that he had, yet again,
angered the young woman who was such a mystery to him.
"Doctor, all of my patients save Mulder are dead by the time I have to
care for them." she replied quietly, the words sufficient by themselves
to express the sarcasm that she was too tired to express in any other way.
"Well, young lady, if you don't get some uninterrupted sleep soon, you'll
be one of your patients," McCoy snapped, his patience nearing its end.
"Doctor," Scully said, her own temper growing short. "I'm going to the
bridge, I'm finding out what's going on, and *then* I'm going to come
back to sick-bay and sleep. You're welcome to try to stop me."
"Look," McCoy said hoping to get their conversation back on a rational
footing. "Neither of us will be helped if you get violent, since I'm
probably as well-trained as you are in unarmed combat, and Admiral Kirk
will certainly throw you in the brig if you attack one of the senior
officers...."
McCoy's warning reminded Scully of the possibility that these people
*had* been trying to treat her with as much flexibility as they could.
The thought of being unable to keep an eye on Mulder, or for that matter
move about freely herself, was more than a bit unsettling, and she
quickly prepared to back down. However, before she could open her mouth
to apologize, McCoy gave her the out that she needed.
"As you seem determined to go to the bridge yourself, I'll accompany you
there, ... much as I'd rather have you in Sick Bay instead. "
"Fine," she replied just as the lift doors opened.
When they arrived on the bridge, Kirk turned around to see who had
arrived, a broad--and somewhat evil--grin spreading across his face when
he saw Scully standing beside his CMO.
"Bones, I thought that you'd said that you were the boss down there," he
said, the laughter in his voice nearly bubbling over when he saw McCoy's
expression.
"Admiral, if there hadn't been a red alert, I think that things would
have been fine. As it is, my patient wanted to find out what was going
on before she went back to bed."
"Well, Ms. Scully, we're having to avoid a number of ships that are
crossing our intended course."
"I see," Scully said. "Why not just fly right through?"
"Because the risk to the future resulting from contact with us here is
just as great as it would have been had we left that Vulcan ship for you
back on Earth."
Scully nodded and turned to leave, realizing that whatever the situation
was, she could do nothing to check the Admiral's honesty or monitor the
situation, given her exhausted state. Just before they moved through the
turbolift doors, Kirk shot McCoy a look, and said:
"Bones, I hope that you can reestablish control down there for a while,"
he said, reminding McCoy of his ill-fated boast, and the need for peace
on the bridge while Spock and Chekhov monitored the space around the
ship.
"No problem, Jim." replied McCoy, "After all, considerin' the amount of
time that you and Spock have been in Sick-bay, I've had lots of time to
gain experience in dealing with difficult patients."
The last thing that he and Scully heard as the doors closed was the
laughter that broke out amongst the bridge staff.
--------
A Stitch In Time: VII
By Matthew Weed
Tuesday November 3, 3:00 PM EST
Office of A.D. Skinner
Walter Skinner looked forward to his weekly meetings with the man that he
had privately dubbed "Cancer man" about as much as he looked forward to
his yearly week of refresher courses. Unfortunately, this time at least,
he had a lot of things that he wanted to talk with the man about, not
least the disappearance of his best pair of agents. However, as he had
become increasingly difficult for the older man to control, it had become
much harder to get anything that could be called information out of his
nominal superior. He was sure that this meeting would be no different.
It was obvious, even as the man stepped through the door that separated
his office in the J. Edgar Hoover building from Skinner's, that his
attention was not focused on his meeting with the A.D.
"Mr. Skinner, I have very little time for you this week, so I want to
clear important matters out of the way immediately," he said as he took
his characteristic place in the office.
"What important matters?" Skinner demanded.
"I want you to listen to what I say very carefully," the man said, taking
a drag from one of his ever-present cigarettes. "I am warning you of this
matter in spite of my better judgment, because I believe that it is
necessary for you to be told."
There was a brief pause while he ordered his thoughts. "I don't want you
to take any report from agents Scully and Mulder on their current
investigation. Doing so would constitute a threat to national security,
and would almost certainly forfeit their lives."
"How can I take receipt of a report from agents Mulder and Scully when
they have been missing for nearly a week," Skinner snapped, perversely
glad that the man had brought up the issue that had concerned him most
over the last six days.
"They are not missing," the man said, as he stubbed out one cigarette and
began smoking another. "They are currently unavailable to report on the
status of their present case."
"How can that be, when they solved the Wikeke Whacker case *before* they
disappeared." Skinner demanded.
"As you know, there are those in my organization who, on occasion, 'help'
Mr. Mulder with information concerning our activities. Unfortunately,
they have assisted him in that way again, and he has chosen to follow
their lead with only the support of his partner."
"I see," Skinner said, knowing that although the story seemed, somehow, to
be ... missing something, he would not be told what had happened until his
agents returned.
"If I don't have a report from them, I won't be able to sign off on any
expenses that they may have." Skinner said, realizing that the man clearly
didn't want any information about whatever had happened to Mulder and
Scully to come to light.
"I believe that there will be no expenses resulting from this case.
However, should any be incurred, they will be taken care of through ...
unofficial means." he said, trying to close the matter as quickly as
possible.
"But what about ..."
"Mr. Skinner, I would strongly suggest that you probe no further into the
matter." Cancer man said, his voice acquiring a threatening tone that
Skinner had not heard in nearly a year.
"Or you'll what?" Skinner demanded.
"I, personally, will do nothing. However, I've heard that New York is due
for a replacement A.D., and that your name has been mentioned rather
frequently of late in connection with the position."
So, Skinner thought, that would be the way of things. Transfer him to New
York, a nominal lateral step, but in reality a demotion. There were
others who could do his job as well as he could, but none of them had the
personal reasons that he did for keeping the X-files open. It had been
obvious to him for quite some time that if he were gone, Mulder's work
would be at terrible risk, and the future of the partnership between
Mulder and Scully would be threatened as well. With the man's comments
about their lives being at risk as a result of information from this case
coming to light as well, he knew that he would have to agree to remain
blissfully innocent concerning whatever had happened to them.
"All right," Skinner said. "You have my word that I won't try to push
them on the matter. However, You'd damned well better tell me where they
are," he said.
"In all honesty, Mr. Skinner, I don't know."
Normally Skinner would have laughed outright at such an intimation. After
all, it would be utter stupidity for the man to be unaware of the exact
location of his most determined, if not most effective, enemy at all
times, and whatever else Skinner might think of him, he was certain that
the man was *not* stupid. This time, however, he had the odd feeling that
the man just might be telling the truth.
"Do you know when they *will* be in contact?" he asked, hoping to keep the
man talking so that he could glean as much information as possible,
whether he was being told the truth or not.
The look of controlled panic that spread across his enemy's face told him
everything that he needed to know even before the man spoke. "No," he
said and rose to step through the door.
Before he could leave, however, Skinner got in another question. "Where
will they be returned?"
"I don't know." the man said and closed the door.
* * *
Wednesday November 4, 1997 5:36 PM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in interstellar space
Scully had been sitting in front of the computer station for nearly twelve
hours, reading with an increasing mix of anger, fear and awe, records
that she knew Mulder would give his life to see. She had, briefly,
entertained the hope that she could argue McCoy into letting him come to
consciousness so that he could, for a short time at least, know the truth.
However, she knew that the ship's CMO couldn't allow him to come to
consciousness as a result of very explicit orders that he had received
from Admiral Kirk when they had been brought aboard. She also suspected
that although the doctor had disagreed with these orders when they had
been handed down, her behavior during the last week had convinced him of
their wisdom. It was clear that everyone knew a great deal about both her
partner and herself, and she was now glad to have the chance to learn
something about their captors.
Unfortunately, what she had learned was consistent with the fact that they
were inescapably trapped aboard a star ship from three centuries in
Earth's future. For one thing, the records were far too detailed to allow
for any possibility of a hastily prepared cover job. Secondly, these same
records were far too detailed and too internally consistent to allow any
possibility of a theft by the consortium of materials from actual alien
races. Such a theft would have left gaps which she was confident that she
could have found based on her growing skill with the computer's highly
advanced file retrieval system.
She now had a fairly complete understanding of what the Federation knew
about the politics of earth's stellar neighborhood at this point in its
history, and was surprised to see that in some ways Mulder appeared to
know more about Earth's enemies than the people three centuries in their
future. However, she still didn't know what was known about either her
partner or herself,--though she was aware that they knew quite a lot--and
wasn't clear at all about what, if any, information the Consortium had
left in its wake. It was clear from the way that she had been treated
over the past few days that these people didn't know about the television
show which, in so many ways, was uncomfortably similar to her present
reality. These questions would have to be answered before she would go so
far as to trust them with her memory, and even then she couldn't say for
sure that she would allow them to do what they felt had to be done, no
matter the possible damage to the future.
* * *
Friday November 6, 1997 3:56 PM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in interstellar space.
James T. Kirk knew that he was now going to have to face Agent Scully.
McCoy believed that he had finally gained a small measure of trust from
her, and as the person responsible for a large part of her predicament, he
felt that he owed her some attention after nearly ten days of avoidance.
However, he also knew the risk of trying to invade her self-imposed
isolation, and only hoped that what he was about to show her would only
add to the limited trust that she had shown his crew.
"Yes," came her response to the enunciator.
"This is Admiral Kirk, I was hoping to ask you to come down to the shuttle
deck with me to see the release of the Vulcan survey craft."
"All right," she replied moments before the doors opened to reveal her
small form, clad in comfortable clothes that were obviously characteristic
of her time period.
"Come with me," he invited and moved quickly to the nearest turbolift
entrance.
He was surprised by the question which she asked while they were waiting
for the nearest car to arrive.
"Why are you taking me to see this?" she asked.
"Because I thought that you might want to see the ship released so that
you would know our mission was truly intended as a salvage job and nothing
else."
He could see that Scully was processing that information, and was pleased
by her response.
"If you'd shown me this two days ago, I wouldn't've believed you."
"Why not?"
"Because it would have been too easy to trick me in any number of ways,
including just releasing the ship and then retrieving it a few minutes
later after I'd gone back to my quarters or to sick-bay to look in on
Mulder."
"True," Kirk admitted. "So if you don't mind my asking, what changed your
mind?"
"I've been reading a lot of records on your computer lately, and although
I'm still not totally sure that you didn't come here to interfere with our
work as well, its hard for me to deny that you are from the future, and
that there is truly going to be something called the United Federation of
Planets."
"I'm glad to hear it," Kirk said as the doors opened onto the great
observation balcony that hung over part of Enterprise' aft shuttle deck.
"I'm sure you are," Scully said, the sarcasm clear in her voice. "I'm
also sure that you won't be glad to know that I'm still not sure that I'm
willing to let you wipe my memory. Its been done before, and quite
frankly, I'm still not sure that you won't help the Consortium by taking
more than what you've said that you'll take."
Kirk snapped around, his hope that this next part of the mission would
go easily, dashed by her words, and more importantly, the attitude behind
them.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because both of us know things that could seriously set back a lot of
projects that the government has been working on for a long time....if we
could only offer proof of what we know." she said.
At this moment they were temporarily rescued from further clashes by
Scotty's announcement that the ship was ready for launch.
Kirk watched Scully watching the big ship as Enterprise' tractor beams
maneuvered it gently through the huge gap in the outer hull left when the
doors folded into the compartment's bulkheads. He saw that she was
facinated by the endless void into which the small Vulcan ship was
disappearing even as they watched.
The precision handling of the operation made it clear, to Kirk at least,
that Scotty had taken direct charge of the handling of the ship. As they
watched, the ellipsoid-shaped craft was released from the tractor's hold
and floated free just aft of the ship which, in so many ways, was it's
technological descendant.
"I am now laying in a course to Vulcan," Spock said over his helmet
communicator. Unfortunately, the two ships' systems had been difficult to
synchronize, and so they had found it necessary to leave a crew member
aboard to ensure that the ship would be set on the proper course. Spock,
of course, had volunteered for the duty, and seeing no better alternative,
Kirk had allowed him to stay aboard the ship after its airlock had been
closed, and the shuttle deck depressurized.
It had also been necessary for Spock to ensure that the stasis equipment
was returned to Enterprise, and the Vulcan crew hit with a mix of phaser
stun and drugs that he and McCoy had agreed would ensure the loss of their
conscious memories concerning their experiences over the brief period of
time that they had spent out of stasis or healing trance over the last ten
days. Although the trance memories would still be available to them, they
would be as indistinct as such memories usually were, and would only show
them the inside of their own ship in any case. Therefore, when they were
reawakened by their commander, all that they would have would be some
indistinct memories of a battle, and later, people repairing their craft.
Though not the best solution, it was the best that they could do given
Vulcan biology, and the general constraints imposed upon them by their
mission.
Several minutes later, the spectral flash of the Vulcan ship's warp drive
was followed by the announcement that Spock had been beamed aboard, and
that Enterprise was returning to Earth at maximum warp.
This news was a mix of good and bad for The Admiral. On one hand, the
Vulcan ship was away, and the risk to history that it might pose had been
minimized. However, Mulder and Scully were still aboard, and their
disposition was still a major problem for all concerned. He sighed,
knowing that they had only two days to convince Scully of the necessity of
what they intended to do. If they couldn't, McCoy was becoming
increasingly insistent on the fact that he would not be responsible for
the damage to her, both mind and body, and the history that she might not
make as a result of what his techniques could do to her unwilling psyche.
* * *
Friday November 6, 1997 7:45 PM GMT.
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in interstellar space.
After witnessing the departure of the alien ship over which Mulder had
nearly lost his life, Scully returned to reading about the future. She
was growing increasingly frustrated by the difficulty that she was having
in accessing records that pertained to her partner and herself. She knew
that the records were there, it was more a problem of figuring out how to
find two people in a database that held information on uncounted billions
both dead and still unborn. Finally after her third frustrating pass
through the records, she decided to ask for some help in getting the
information that she had to have in order to make a decision that she
knew would affect her life and that of her partner for many years to come.
"Scully to Bridge," she said, actuating the com panel on her desk.
"Bridge, Spock here,"
"I need some help in getting access to any records that you have
concerning Agent Mulder and myself," she said, somewhat distracted by the
need to figure out why this man's face seemed familiar, though she knew
that she'd never seen anything like it before, save on TV in her apartment
which, at that moment, seemed very far away.
"I shall make a copy of the files that I have retrieved and have them
delivered to your quarters," he replied.
"Thank you," Scully said as the screen winked out. It took her only a few
more seconds thought to place Spock as the 'person' who had subdued her
in the transporter room when she and Mulder had been brought aboard.
Needless to say, she decided that the records would get her most careful
scrutiny before she would choose to believe anything that she read.
Moments later a young woman was standing outside her door, holding one of
the small data blocks that Scully knew were used to store huge amounts of
information.
"Here you are, Ma'am," the young woman said as she handed the "tape" to
Scully.
"Thank you," Scully said and stepped back, allowing the doors to close
between them.
Hours later, Scully was still reading case reports that she had filed over
a period of nearly five years, all *after* the date on which they had
found the Vulcan ship.
The cases were, the usual for them, poltergeists, supposed abductions,
serial murders, and on and on. By her count, Mulder would manage to get
himself into the hospital at least thirteen times over the next few years,
and she would spend far too much time in hospital herself. What she
couldn't figure out was why, a little under five years from now, the
reports suddenly stopped, and there was no record of either of them
working for the FBI after that last, seemingly routine, report.
She decided to attack another problem while her mind worked on possible
ways of getting more information on their lives. "Computer, correlate all
available records dealing with extraterrestrial activity on earth with any
case files that were listed as X-files by the United States Federal Bureau
of Investigation between 1992 and 2001." she said.
Within moments a tremendous list of documents was presented to her, some
from the tape that she had been given, and others from the computer's
central storage. There was obviously too much here for her to read, so
she asked the computer for any definitive works that might contain an
overview of the material being presented.
Moments later, a book published in the late Twenty-first Century was on
the screen. As she read through the document, Scully began noting down
items that she wanted to learn more about than she could from the
reasonably short chapter that dealt directly with the X-files.
After finishing the book, Scully went back to the top of her list of
subjects and began working through them. The first would prove by far the
most disconcerting for her, and would make it all-too-clear why Cancer man
and his cronies had fought so hard to keep the truth from them. When
she'd finished reading that first document she couldn't say that she
blamed them at all.
"Computer, give me the complete text of the Treaty of Roswell New Mexico,
circa 1948." she said.
The two page document came up on screen, and its contents, quite frankly,
frightened her more than anything that she had ever seen or read in the
her five-year partnership with Mulder.
In short, the treaty was a reciprocal agreement between The Western
democracies and the government of the Vegan Tyranny. Earth would be
permitted to keep and study any technology that it had captured from the
wreck of the scout that had crashed at Roswell in the previous year.
Earth would provide limited basing rights to the Vegans who would maintain
small teams of engineers and scientists at several points on the globe in
order to repair damaged craft, and, "where possible, assist the
signatories in the development of technology not currently available to
them." They would also be permitted to study and, where possible, take
advantage of, the resources of Earth including its human population. If
Earth should back out on any part of this agreement, the Vegans would
"...act in defense of their projects and interests, with non-negotiable
consequences for the vast majority of the population of Sol III."
Scully took this to mean that they would launch an assault on the planet,
one which she had no doubt would result in terrible suffering for those
who might survive the initial bombardment. This impression was reinforced
when she read the protective clauses of the treaty which included the
single sentence that obviously gave Cancer man all the reasons he might
need to make sure that no one ever learned the "truth". "Should any part
of this treaty, or the identities of those signatory to it, be released to
the civilian media of Sol III, the agreement will be considered broken,
with consequences as stated in the preceding clauses."
Scully wasn't stupid, it didn't take much for her to draw the obvious
conclusion that if they *had* been successful in exposing the presence of
the Vulcan ship to the media, there would have been a full-blown
investigation into alien activity on the planet, and--sooner or later--the
presence of the Reticulans/Vegans would have become public knowledge. The
consequences of *that* didn't bear thinking about.
She knew that no matter what the people in the UFO community might think,
there was no way that the disunited planet on which they lived would be
able to defend itself against a ship like the Enterprise. She knew that
although far less advanced than this ship, a fleet of Vegan craft would
doubtless be enough to overwhelm Earth's comparatively limited defenses
and do as they wanted with whatever might remain of the planet's
population after the short-lived defensive struggle ended in ignominious
defeat for her world.
If her reaserch proved this document to be valid, and not just something
cooked up by the crew of the Enterprise in order to trick her into being
willing to go through a memory erasure, she knew that she would go through
the procedure willingly. She would do it because she *didn't* want to
know this truth for herself, and also because she knew that her partner
wasn't yet ready to deal with this kind of truth. The fact that there
were alien powers that might have taken Samantha was already deeply
interwoven into his belief system and personality. The probability that
they had help from, and were working with, the American Government was
well within his ability to accept. However, his obsession might blind him
to the need for secrecy that this information made clear. As a result, he
might not understand that there was a time for the release of these
"truths" and that this was not the time. Simply put, the information had
to be out of his hands, and although they had never talked about them, she
knew that he knew of her nightmares. What she didn't know was whether he
had ever heard her talk in her sleep as she had at her mother's home
during several of her visits there over the time since she had been
returned from ... wherever she had been taken.
Suddenly, with a flash of comprehension born of her increasing familiarity
with the Enterprise' computer's file management system, Scully knew how to
get to the files that she'd wanted to see concerning her life and that of
her partner.
"Computer, list all files held by any agency of the governments signatory
to the 1948 Treaty of Roswell New Mexico concerning Agents Mulder and
Scully of the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Again, the list was daunting, but there were a number of files that were
marked with special symbology of varying kinds. These, then, would be her
first targets.
"Computer, show me file MJ-1254-3C1," she said.
"Access denied," the computer replied.
"Why?" she asked.
"File is restricted to persons holding the rank of Admiral in Star Fleet
Command or its equivalent Federation civilian rank."
Scully quickly realized that she was in over her head, but also knew that
there was someone aboard ship who could allow her to see the file that
contained the consortium's report on the experiments done on her after her
abduction. Then, in another flash, she realized that the tape that Spock
had given her was a copy of his personal directory, and therefore probably
contained a lot of files that she, as a guest, would never have been
allowed to see. It was obvious to her that the Federation, or at least
the government of Earth, still had secrets that it wished to keep from its
people, concerning events that had happened three centuries in their past.
It was easy to test this hypothesis, and after removing the cartridge that
she'd been given, she repeated her question concerning files dealing with
herself and her partner. As she suspected, the list was notably shorter
than that which had appeared when Spock's data had been available.
Assuming that these people were anything like those on the old Star Trek
series--an assumption proven by days of observation of McCoy if nothing
else--she knew that Spock would never have made a mistake of this sort,
and that he had quite obviously been trying to give her every possible
datum in order to help her in her investigation. Now, to see if Admiral
Kirk would be as forthcoming as his first officer had been....
"Scully to Admiral Kirk," she said, activating her com unit.
"Kirk here," came the sleepy response.
"Admiral Kirk, I hope that I didn't wake you," she said, only slightly
contritely.
"Yes," he said with an engaging grin, "...but as you know from your
father's time in the service, it's part of the job. Now, what can I do
for you?"
"There are three files concerning myself and Agent Mulder that I need to
review, but they're protected by a security clearance higher than that
available to Mr. Spock, who gave me a copy of the files that he's been
reading to give you the briefings that you've had concerning myself and
Agent Mulder."
"I see," said Kirk, his face showing no surprise at the news that Spock
had given her the data that he'd collected on the two agents. "I'll be
down in a few minutes and I'll clear the files for you," he said before
closing the channel from his end.
Minutes later, Kirk signaled his presence at her door. After she admitted
him, she turned back to the terminal and quickly detailed the problem.
"There are three files in the data that Captain Spock gave me concerning
my partner and myself, that his clearance seems to be unable to break.
The computer says that only someone of Admiral's rank or higher in Star
Fleet can open these files. At least one of them has a header that I know
means that it contains data on government experimentation on human
subjects in relation to their work with captured alien knowledge. I'm
hoping that you can open these files so that I can go over the data."
"It would be my pleasure," Kirk said, flashing her a pale imitation of
that boyish grin that had probably ingratiated this man to as many women
as his namesake character had known on her far-away TV screen.
Fortunately, Scully thought, his maturity in the here-and-now matched that
which he had shown in the seven movies that had been made dealing with the
latter parts of his career. "Computer," he said, interrupting her
thoughts, "request voice print identification, Kirk, Admiral James T."
"Identity confirmed," the computer said.
"Access all files currently listed on this terminal," he said.
"File access requires confirmatory retinal scan," the computer replied.
"Commence scan," he said, leaning toward the retinal laser port that sat
to the left of the fold-out screen.
"Retinal scan approved," the computer said, as it opened the files.
"Thank you," Scully said, moving to retake her seat in front of the
terminal.
"Certainly," Kirk replied. "Do you mind if I go through these as well?"
he asked indicating the near-by chair.
"No," she said, and made room for him to sit within viewing range of the
monitor. The fact that he, too, wanted to see the files came as a
surprise to her, and she was glad of the opportunity to see his reactions
to the material that they contained. Depending on Kirk's responses, she
would have a much better sense of just how far she would be willing to go
in extending trust to these people.
The first document was The Consortium's report on what ha7d been done to
her during her abduction. It appeared that most of her time had been
spent with human scientists working on the possibility of re-engineering
DNA in order to make people more responsive to external stimuli, and more
capable of prolonged action once the stimulus had occurred. Furthermore,
the branched DNA that had been found in her bloodstream was, primarily,
the bi-product of special DNA engineering techniques that were already
available to civilian scientists, although their work had, as yet, been
confined to simple single-celled organisms and viri. Obviously The Vegan
scientific teams had helped their colleagues develop vectors that were
capable of far more than those of which Scully had been aware. This also
meant that practically all of the blame for her suffering belonged with
her fellow man, and not with aliens as Mulder and his friends at the Lone
Gunman had thought.
The second document was a detailed copy of what they'd seen in that mine
in West Virginia. She saw that after her return, her case had been
closely followed by some of the most powerful people in the shadow
government. She saw that her children, simply designated by their
initials, had also been followed until the mid Twenty-First Century when
the need to protect the population of Earth from knowledge of the
existence of extra-terrestrial civilizations had ended with the first
contact with the Vulcans made in 2061 when Earth's first experiments with
warp drive resulted in an unexpected first contact with the Vulcans.
She saw that The Consortium's scientists believed that her will alone had
been the difference between life and death on her return, and that a great
deal of interest had developed concerning whether the will to survive was
a heritable trait, or something developed as a result of one's
experiences. She learned that she had been taken, not because they
thought that she would be useful in their experiments, but solely because
Mulder had become too much of a threat to the security of the Vegan teams.
She saw that most of the officials in the Consortium had hoped that she
*would* die, so that Mulder would follow her, as they were convinced that
he would, within a year of her disappearance. Therefore, when she read
that the man whose title and job description were all-too-close to that of
Cancer man, had risked everything to get her released before it was too
late, she nearly fainted. Had Kirk not been there to steady her, she
would have fallen from her chair.
"Ms. Scully, I think that you should take a little time before you read
that last document," he said, still standing within easy reach of her
chair.
"No," she said, quickly regaining her equilibrium. "I have to know the
truth," she said.
"I've been through some difficult times, experiments done on me, dangerous
away missions, ... you know the drill." he said quietly. "I know that our
enemies have done this kind of work for centuries, but I had forgotten
just how cruel we humans used to be to each other."
"When I joined the FBI," Scully said, "...I thought that I'd be working to
stop the cruelty that people inflict on each other. When I joined the
X-files, I thought that Mulder's views on much of what we investigated
weren't supportable in any way. It took me a long time to truly realize
just how right he was, and now that I've seen the truth, I'll have a lot
of trouble keeping it from him."
Kirk stepped back, his hazel eyes darkening slightly. "We showed you
this information so that you would understand why it is so important to
withhold the truth from him. Much as I wish that it weren't true, there
are still truths, even in our time, that must be withheld from the people
so that their lives, and our civilization as a whole, can continue without
being destroyed by what some of us know."
"I see," Scully said, knowing something of the missions to which he
referred, and wondering how such a man could hold up under the burden of
the things that he obviously knew. "I want to read that last file before
I decide for sure, but for the moment, I think that you can tell Dr. McCoy
that I'll submit willingly for the memory wipe," she said, knowing that
there was no other decision that she could make.
"All right," Kirk said, moving toward the door. "If you need anything,
feel free to contact me." he said as he stepped through the portal.
"Thank you," Scully said, already turning back to the monitor. However,
before she could open the file, the exhaustion that she had been fighting
in order to get through the information as quickly as possible, hit her
with overwhelming force. She was barely able to get to the bed in the
other room before she collapsed, carried off into healing sleep by the
needs of her body.
When she woke, several hours later, she decided that she already knew
enough to make her decision and really didn't want to know more. Her
decision made, she felt no regrets when she turned off her monitor and
called McCoy and Kirk to tell them that she would go through with the
memory erasure.
--------
A Stitch In Time: Part VIII
By Matthew Weed
Sunday, November 8, 1997 3:36 AM GMT.
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in the outer solar system.
"Sir, we are now within range of the communications monitor that we left
on Earth on our departure," Spock said from the science station.
"Anything interesting?" Kirk asked.
"That depends on your definition of 'interesting', sir." Spock said dryly.
"There have been no messages left by our contact on Earth, and his
organization seems to have been successful in its attempts at suppression
of some localized reports of sightings of possible alien craft. There
was, apparently, a noteworthy burst of discussion in the local media
concerning the disappearance of Agents Mulder and Scully, however, our
monitor has recorded reports from various official sources suggesting that
they suffered serious medical difficulties as a result of the strain of
their last case. These reports seem to have silenced the major media
sources' discussion of the matter, and the few fringe sources concerned
with the matter are generally viewed as being unreasonably paranoid by the
general public."
"Good," Kirk said. "At least things seem to be going well insofar as the
cover story is concerned. I assume that you'll need to go back down and
discuss the final arrangements with our contact?"
"Correct, sir." Spock replied. "I have already attempted to contact him,
and hope to have a response as soon as we enter orbit."
"Very good, Mr. Spock," Kirk said. "I'll leave the final arrangements to
you."
"Understood, sir."
* * *
Sunday November 8, 1997 7:03 AM EST,
Office of Cancer man.
The moment the door closed, Cancer man knew that this new group of aliens
had returned. The flashing message counter hidden in the pattern of his
screen saver was flickering with a enough frequency to show that a number
of messages had come in over the closed network. There hadn't been any
messages since the one that had warned him of the arrival of their landing
party almost two weeks previously.
After reading the message, he smiled, knowing that his plan for returning
the agents to their normal lives had been understood by the aliens, and
should come off without a hitch. It would satisfy any questions that
Scully might ask concerning what had happened to them, and would,
therefore, leave enough doubt in Mulder's mind to keep him from digging as
deeply as he would need to in order to learn that there had been a
cover-up concerning their "illness". As long as no one made any mistakes
early on, the story should hold up quite well.
However, he would need to bring his team at Pearl Harbor to full active
status, and remind a few people of their oaths....
* * *
Sunday November 8, 1997 12:48 PM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise in extended orbit of Earth.
"Now in protective orbit," said Sulu from the helm.
"Understood Mr. Sulu," Spock said from the center seat.
He turned his attention to the com panel in the chair's arm, and hit the
toggle that would open a channel to the captain's quarters.
"Bridge to Admiral Kirk," he said. "We have achieved an acceptable
orbit."
"I'm on my way, Spock, call a yellow alert until we're sure that no one
knows that we're here."
"Yes sir," Spock said, noting that Uhura's beta-shift replacement had
already signaled the change in status from communications. "
As soon as Kirk arrived on the bridge and had taken the Con, Spock moved
to leave in order to prepare to beam to the planet's surface.
"With your permission sir, I shall beam down to complete discussions for
the transfer of agents Mulder and Scully with our contact, and then return
to the ship for our final briefing before Dr. McCoy begins Ms. Scully's
treatments."
"Granted." Kirk said. "Good luck," he added before Spock could leave the
bridge.
Rather than reminding Kirk of the obvious illogic of such a statement,
Spock simply nodded his acceptance of his friend's concern and stepped
through the turbolift doors.
Minutes later, he stood ready with the landing party that had accompanied
him to Earth at the beginning of the mission.
* * *
Sunday November 8, 1997 8:16 AM EST
Office of Cancer man.
He sat behind his desk smoking another of the cigarettes that had become
such an addiction even before the Kennedy assassination. The habit had
only grown worse, and in some of his darker moments, he had the terrible
feeling that he was probably Morley's best customer. It was too bad that
the company didn't know that he existed, and that if they did, he would
never be able to make an appearance in one of the glossy advertisements
that had drawn him to the brand so long ago. He couldn't help smiling as
he thought how well things were going, considering the near-disaster that
had occurred only ten days previously. The agents were to be returned,
and it appeared that the cover story that had been so carefully worked out
would hold, assuming that the carefully arranged security and care giving
organization that had been put into place could hold for another day or
two. Until the aliens returned Mulder and Scully, he wouldn't know how
long he would have to put off those few who actually cared what had
happened to them. fortunately, he was expecting visitors who should be
able to clear up the timing of the rest of the operation soon....
Moments later, the high-pitched whine of the alien teleportation device
filled his office, and he rose, facing the five columns of light that
quickly resolved into the beings whom he had previously met.
"I assume that your retrieval operation was a success?" he asked.
"It was," Spock replied.
"That is good news," Cancer man said before turning to their other
problem. "However, we still have to get agents Mulder and Scully back in
such a way that the others won't be suspicious."
"Agreed," Spock said. "However, it was my understanding that arrangements
for a cover story would be your responsibility. From what we have been
able to monitor, it appears that the public at large seems to have
accepted the misinformation that you have generated so far."
"All reports indicate that they have," Cancer man replied, taking another
puff on his cigarette. "We have also made preparations for the return of
the agents, and have moved their possessions to the appropriate drop off
point."
"I assume that this is the base hospital at the Pearl Harbor Naval
station?" Spock asked.
"Correct," Cancer man replied.
"Very well, we can transfer the agents to that facility within twelve
hours." he said.
"You will do so via the method that you've used to enter my office?"
"Correct," Spock said.
"Can you send warning before the transfer so that we can ensure that only
those personnel from the hospital who have the proper clearance will be in
the vicinity?"
Spock knew the reasons for the request, and was more than willing to
comply. "We shall notify you via the established method."
"Fine,"
"There is one more issue that must be discussed."
"Yes?"
"I believe that it is wise to remind you of our agreement concerning the
memories of the two agents."
"Yes, I am aware of the significance,..." Cancer man replied.
"It would certainly be best for all concerned if you remember that
significance should anyone wish to attempt reeducation or experimentation
in the future. There is a great deal of risk associated with such
activity, and I suggest that you ensure that there is a team of
trustworthy specialists available who have the proper skills for any
reeducation that may be necessary in future. I also believe that you
understand the risk of further ... unnecessary interference with the lives
of these agents?" Spock said, not needing to threaten when the truth of
the matter was more than sufficient.
"I understand," Cancer man said, realizing that the alien standing before
him was right. Any work done on either agent could de-stabilize the
blocks on their memories, an event that would, in all likelihoods, prove
disastrous.
"In that case, I believe that we have no further business," Spock said, as
he withdrew his communicator.
Cancer man simply nodded and watched the five beings who had been in his
office disappear to the accompaniment of the high-pitched whine of their
teleportation device.
* * *
As soon as he had returned to the ship, Spock hastened to the main
conference room where the ship's senior officers along with Agent Scully
awaited him.
"Well, Spock?" Kirk said, as soon as he entered the room.
"I believe that all arrangements have been made. I have the beam-down
coordinates and believe that given Dr. McCoy's skill and Agent Scully's
cooperation, there will be little damage done to the time stream as we
know it."
"Good," Kirk said, his face moving into a satisfied grin.
"Where are you going to put us down?" Scully asked.
"My contact on Earth has directed us to put you into the isolation unit at
the Base hospital at Pearl Harbor," Spock said. "You will be returned in
a drug induced coma which you will be told that you entered on the night
of the capture of the suspect in your most recent case. Though not
common, such states are not unknown in humans who have been under
tremendous stress, and it is hoped that you at least will believe the
story that you will be given."
Scully thought about it for a moment before responding. "It's just
possible that both of us will accept it. Mulder was as worn out as I was
at the end of that case, and although he's resistant, he'll believe that
it's possible, especially considering the new bullet wound."
"Good," Kirk said. "... In that case, I think that we should adjourn so
that Dr. McCoy can begin his preparations."
McCoy nodded as he rose to begin preparing the concoction of drugs and
other technologies that he would need to wipe Scully's memory. However,
before he could leave, he suddenly realized what Scully had said about the
bullet wound.
"Uh, Jim, I think that we have a problem," he said.
"Yes Bones?"
"Well, until now, I hadn't realized that there'd be a need for a scar...."
"You mean that you were going to be able to release him without any sign
of a wound?" Scully demanded.
"That's right," McCoy said. "I thought that it'd be best if there wasn't
any external sign of damage that might tell you that something had
happened while you were ... sick."
"Oh," Scully said, amazed that these people were able to regenerate tissue
with sufficient skill to ensure that all traces of a wound could be
eliminated.
"Can you give him some kind of acceptable scar?" Kirk asked.
"That'll be no problem," McCoy said. "It's simple plastic surgery, any of
my nurses could handle it, but I'll ask Christine to take care of it so
that we're sure that it looks good."
"Good Job, Bones." Kirk said. After a brief pause, he waved his officers
out the door, effectively dismissing them to the tasks that needed to be
performed in order to get Mulder and Scully back to Earth.
* * *
Sunday November 8, 6:00 PM EST
Office of Admiral Robert Fredrickson, Commander in Chief: Pacific
Theater.(CInCPac)
"So when will the facilities that you commandeered for your damned
cover-up be returned to active status?" the admiral demanded, leaning
forward in hopes of intimidating the smoking bastard who had calmly walked
into his office a few seconds earlier.
"I can't say for sure," the man replied, blowing a thick cloud of smoke
into the Admiral's face. "When we're ready to allow agents Mulder and
Scully to have visitors, you'll be the first to know."
"But they're not even here!" the man cried, waving a weathered hand in the
air between them in vain support of both his health and the point he was
trying to make.
"I wouldn't speak so loudly," Cancer man replied. "One never knows who
might be listening."
"I'm sure that *you* know *exactly* who is listening," the other man
grumbled, backing away from him.
"In this case, you're quite correct," the other man replied, snuffing his
cigarette out on the brand new carpet.
"So when will Dana be returned?" the Admiral demanded.
"Soon, I'm told,"
"And you expect me to pass this pack of lies off on her? She's a doctor
for God's sake, and she's also known me since she was two."
"We *do* expect you to 'pass this off'," Cancer man said, "Both because
Ms. Scully's life depends on you doing so, and because it's your duty."
"And when, exactly, did you become the expert on doing one's duty?"
"Long before you and her father entered the naval academy." Cancer man
replied. "I wish that I didn't have to handle things this way, but in
this case it is *not* in my best interest to see agent Scully harmed. If
she knew what had happened to her and to agent Mulder over the last eleven
days, both her safety, and that of the planet at large, would be put at
risk."
Frustrated though he might be, Admiral Fredrickson had seen things that,
if he ever talked about them, would probably get him thrown either into
jail for treason, or the psych ward for insanity. He knew something of
the operations that the smoking bastard was charged with, and although it
made him truly ill to think about them, he had realized long ago that,
until Earth had become stronger and more united, there was no other
choice. So he could, just barely, accept the man's orders as both
necessary, and the only acceptable course of action. However, it was not
easy to participate in a cover-up, and keeping Bill Scully's wife out of
the loop on this was almost more than he could stand. After all, the
woman had been through too much of late, and worrying about her remaining
daughter was obviously putting a terrible strain on her. He hoped that he
would never be asked to make a choice like that again.
A few seconds later, the Admiral began wondering whether the smoking SOB
had developed telepathy when he demanded to know when Margaret Scully had
last called him in hopes of learning something.
"She called yesterday evening," he replied, his mind still somewhat
adrift. "She's understandably worried about her daughter, and wants to
know why neither she, nor Mulder's mother can see them."
"And you told them?"
"That I didn't know much, other than that there was some concern that
their coma had been brought on by exposure to one of the rare pathogens
that is occasionally found in the jungles here."
"Very good," Cancer man replied. "The story won't hold for long, but
fortunately they should be back within a few hours, and should, or so I'm
told, be able to talk soon after that."
"Thank God," Fredrickson replied.
"You may if you like," Cancer man replied as he turned to leave.
"However, I'm quite sure that, if He exists, there was no divine
intervention in this case." With this parting shot, Cancer man left,
giving the most powerful military commander west of Omaha Nebraska time to
worry over what had happened to his god daughter.
* * *
Sunday November 8, 11:45 PM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in Earth orbit.
Scully had been sitting with Mulder for the past few hours, just taking in
the comfort of his company. Dr. Chapel had pronounced the procedure that
she had used to leave a credible facsimile of the scar that Mulder's wound
would have left had McCoy not done his best to remove all external traces
of it a complete success some hours ago, and had restarted Mulder on the
depressants that McCoy had been using to make sure that he would not
return to consciousness while he remained aboard ship. She had
occasionally spoken to him of the things that she had seen over the past
few days, glad to admit to him at least once that in so many ways she had
been wrong. She had even mentioned how much this ship resembled the Star
Ship Enterprise of Star Trek, and had laughingly informed him that it must
be an X-file.
She could not know that Spock, determined to ensure that she would not
remember her experiences aboard Enterprise, had programmed the computer to
monitor her language and activities for any possible key that might bypass
McCoy's block on these memories. He had done a thorough job, and so the
computer, responding to the directives in Spock's program, began a search
in response to her reference to 'Star Trek', and began correllating it
against all of the data that it had gathered on her while she was aaboard.
Its work was difficult, as many of the things that she had done and said
were not familiar to its programmer, and so the analysis of the confusing
data was proceeding more slowly than it might have, had the conditions
been more favorable.
"All right," McCoy said from the next room, finally satisfied with the
tremendous complex of machinery and drug stands that cluttered the central
operating theater in Sick-bay. "I think that we're ready to get started."
Scully rose from her position by Mulder's bedside and prepared to move
around the divider that lay between the private room and the rest of the
compartment. However, before she left his side, she gave his hand one
final squeeze, hoping that she would remember him and all the things--both
good and bad--that had happened between them over the last five and a half
years. although there had been some truly horrific times, these had been
more than balanced by the growth of their partnership, and the many
shared experiences that they had faced together in their struggle to
uncover a truth that she now understood could not yet be revealed. It did
not escape her that if McCoy was successful in removing her memories of
the last twelve days, she would not know that their ignorance, in this
case at least, *was* bliss.
"Take care, Mulder," she said, her lower lip trembling for just a moment
before she finally straightened, and with professional mask in place,
moved to take the bed that McCoy had waiting for her.
McCoy, who had seen her take her leave of Mulder, smiled at Scully, his
bedside manner fully in place.
"I'm sure that you'll come out of this just fine," he said, as she swung
up onto the bed.
In return, Scully gave him a tight smile, and said "I hope so, Dr. McCoy,"
Having little else to say to this woman, whose strength he had come to
respect during her brief stay, McCoy began the procedure. He knew that he
could complete his task, and was confident that Mulder, whose
responses--even when drugged--made it obvious that he cared for, and
trusted her as much as she did him, wouldn't find anything wrong with his
partner when they woke a few hours from now in the adjoining hospital beds
that awaited them on Earth.
* * *
Monday November 9, 1997, 12:36 AM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise in Earth Orbit.
In spite of the fact that he'd been up for nearly 24 hours, Kirk was still
on the bridge, waiting for the final transfer to occur. Although he'd
managed to convince most of the senior officers to take some time off,
Sulu and Spock remained, as he did, waiting for news from McCoy. Spock
was bent over his station, continuing to monitor the media of the day, his
attention flitting from screen to screen as coverage of violence in the
Middle East grabbed his attention after it had been focused on a
syndicated broadcast of a science fiction program from the United States.
However, when all of the screens suddenly blanked, to be replaced by
flashing symbols that represented a possible failure in their efforts to
protect the time stream, Spock's full attention was immediately turned on
this new crisis. He read through the material quickly, and then glanced
at some of the video clips that the computer had, so far, been able to
find on a television program from the 1960s, called 'Star Trek'. After
only a few minutes, he leapt from his station, and without even asking for
Kirk's permission, raced for the turbolift.
Kirk, who had only seen Spock act like this once or twice during their
long friendship, yelled at Sulu to take the Con as he raced to get to the
'lift before the doors could close.
He barely slipped into the compartment and was still trying to steady his
breathing when he heard Spock order the lift to carry them to Sick-bay.
* * *
Monday November 9, 1997 12:38 AM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise, somewhere in Earth Orbit.
They had just passed the point of no return, and McCoy was pleased with
the progress of the treatments. After beginning the course of hypnotics
and other mind altering agents, he had found it comparatively easy to
hypnotize Scully. In fact, considering how much trouble she'd given them
early on in the mission, he was shocked at how pliant she had become.
Her memories had been easy enough to locate, and he was quite far along in
breaking down the neurochemical links that had been formed when they had
been laid down. Although he wouldn't be able to break them completely, he
felt that he'd be able to do a more thorough wipe than he had originally
thought. Therefore he was understandably surprised when Spock and Kirk
burst into Sick bay, demanding to know whether he could stop the
procedure.
"What the hell are you talkin' about, Spock?" McCoy demanded, while
continuing to hit Scully's brain with the neurodisruptor's highly focused
beam.
"Bones," Kirk said, "Spock's just found a possible trigger in the media of
the day that he thinks might reactivate Scully's memories of us."
"Dammit!" McCoy swore, knowing that although his techniques were good
enough to withstand most of the Twentieth Century's restorative
techniques, a strong trigger would bring back at least some of the
suppressed memories. "...I can't stop now, I've already gone too far, and
if we stopped or took a different tack at this point, we'd risk losing
most of her memory... effectively making her a blank slate. No matter
what, we'll lose at least another day while I read up on other ways of
handling this."
"Doctor," Spock said quietly. "Given the current circumstances, I believe
that it would be best to continue the procedure as you have planned it.
After you have completed your work, I will go into her mind and reinforce
your work with a blocking technique that should pose no danger to Ms.
Scully."
"So Spock, if you've got somethin' that would have done this already
without my havin' to wipe her memory, why didn't you say so before!" McCoy
demanded, truly furious at the Vulcan for putting his pride ahead of the
safety of an innocent woman.
"Unfortunately, Doctor, ..." Spock said, his body language showing just
how carefully he was controlling his emotions. "...Without the support of
the work that you are doing now, my additional block would be completely
ineffective. However, with what you will have already done, it will add
notably to the strength of your efforts."
"Right," McCoy said, still not quite ready to give up his anger.
"Gentlemen," Kirk said quietly from the foot of the bed. "You're both
doing your best, and given past experience, I'd say that it will be more
than enough as long as you stay focused on your jobs."
McCoy, realizing his error, was quick to apologize. "Sorry, Spock," he
said. "Its just ..." and he trailed off, looking down at the
fragile-looking woman who lay unconscious on the bed.
"I know, Doctor," Spock replied, "As often happens in these cases, the
Admiral is correct."
Knowing that, from Spock, this was a heart-felt apology, the doctor
returned to his work, and Spock moved to a position from which he could
monitor the progress of the doctor's efforts and prepare himself for what
he must do.
After McCoy had finished, Spock moved to take his place. His fingers
quickly found the contact points, and he moved into her still-suggestible
mind. She had not agreed to his interference, so he chose, despite a
tremendous curiosity concerning the memories of a human born nearly three
centuries in his past, to simply add to McCoy's work and leave. Within
minutes his work was completed, and he withdrew, silently pleased that
this strong, courageous human woman would have the long and prosperous
life that she so richly deserved.
As soon as he had exited her mind, McCoy gave her the drugs that would put
her into an artificial coma along with other agents that would effectively
simulate all of the symptoms of a twelve-day period of unconsciousness.
With this done, the crew of the Enterprise could turn its attention to
returning the agents to Earth, where it would be up to their contact's
organization to ensure that the rest of the plan would come off as agreed.
* * *
"I have just received a message saying that the agents will be returned
within the next few minutes," Cancer man said, entering Admiral
Fredrickson's office. "As the agents' parents will require some time to
move from base housing to the hospital, I thought that you might want to
be there for agent Scully when she wakens."
Fredrickson quickly rose to go with him, knowing that the evil bastard
couldn't touch this part of the operation without screwing everything up.
He was glad that someone who cared about the welfare of the two young
people would be there to make sure that their return to the world of the
living would go as smoothly as possible.
* * *
Monday, November 9, 1997 1:56 AM GMT
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in Earth orbit.
Admiral James T. Kirk was more than a bit surprised to see just how many
of his officers had turned out to see the two FBI agents off the ship. He
knew that his people had come to respect these people as much as he had,
and although the agents would never remember the gesture, he was pleased
to know that his officers had felt as strongly as he did about making it.
"Ready to energize, sir." said Janice Rand from behind the transporter
console.
"Energize," Kirk said, his hand moving to salute these people who had
sacrificed so much in order to prepare their world for the reality that
would become the Federation. He was pleased to see that all of his
officers had done the same without any prompting from him, and was almost
shocked to hear a murmured "live long and prosper" from Spock.
--------
A Stitch In Time: Part IX (conclusion)
By Matthew Weed
Summary and Disclaimers in part 0.
Sunday November 8, 1997 9:00 PM EST
Isolated Intensive Care Unit: Base Hospital: Pearl Harbor Naval Station
Pearl Harbor Hawaii.
He stood there watching as the light from the alien transporter
overwhelmed that from his cigarette as it flared above the beds in the
isolated ICU of the Pearl Harbor base hospital. This unit often saw men
and women who were suffering from diseases that they had picked up on the
far-distant islands of the south Pacific. Less often, it saw radiation
sickness, immunodeficiency problems, and other health concerns that
required the immediate isolation of the affected patient(s) from the
outside world. Now, people who had, literally, gone where no one had
been before were being returned, in some type of comatose state in hopes
that they would believe that they had been ill, and not abducted by aliens.
As soon as the teleportation process had been completed, he slipped away,
leaving the medical personnel whom he had detailed for this duty to
completing the work necessary to support the fiction that had been
created for agents and aliens alike. His people knew their jobs, and
would complete them with the efficiency characteristic of their
activities when it became necessary to remove evidence, or people, that
for reasons of national security, could not come to light. In fact, he
suspected that they were rather enjoying the chance to save, rather than
take, lives for a change.
* * *
Monday November 9, 1:36 AM EST
Isolated Intensive Care Unit: Base Hospital: Pearl Harbor Naval Station
Pearl Harbor Hawaii.
Scully groaned as she returned to consciousness. Her body was very weak,
and it took her several attempts to find the energy necessary to open her
eyes and look around herself. When she did, she quickly realized that
she was in a hospital room that had been set up for isolation. However,
the fact that there were people in the room who were not wearing
protective gear told her that whatever she had encountered had proven to
be less dangerous than had originally been thought.
"Where am I?" she croaked, her mouth incredibly dry.
"Dana, You're in the ICU at Pearl Harbor Hospital," someone replied from
outside of her field of vision. However, she didn't need to be able to
see the person to know that it was her "Uncle Bob" the man who had been
one of her parents' closest friends while her father had been alive.
"How did I get here?" she asked, after someone had given her a glass of
water.
"You were brought in thirteen days ago after you and your partner
captured the Wikeke Whacker." Fredrickson said, moving to stand by the
side of her bed.
"Thirteen days?" Scully asked, not quite willing to believe her ears.
"Yes, Dana," he said quietly. "You collapsed from exhaustion, and your
partner was shot. Pearl Harbor was the closest medical facility to your
location, and as we weren't sure what had happened to you, it was decided
to put you in isolation until we knew that you were clear of some of the
biologicals that occasionally pop up around here. Since Pearl Harbor has
better isolation units than the civilian hospitals in Honolulu, it was
best to have you brought here in any case."
"Why did we need to be isolated for a coma?" Scully asked, "after all,
they're not usually something that is easily transmitted."
"I know," her god father replied. "It wasn't the coma that we were
worried about specifically, but rather the possibility that it had been
caused by something other than either injury or exhaustion. Fortunately,
it looks like you're clear of any disease that might have been capable of
causing you to go into a coma."
Scully sighed, glad that she and Mulder wouldn't have to spend several
more weeks in isolation. They'd done that once already, and once was
more than enough for her.
"So do they have any idea why I was under so long?"
"It looks like you just wore yourself out and you simply collapsed."
Although unusual, comas of this type were not unknown, and, for the
moment, Scully was satisfied by the explanation. When she had given
herself a chance to recover, she'd ask to see their charts to confirm
what her god father had been told.
"What about Mulder?" she asked, only now remembering being told that he
had been shot.
"It was close, Dana, he nearly bled to death, and he's just barely come
around himself. He's in the bed across from you," Fredrickson said.
Scully turned quickly, relieved to see Mulder, apparently sleeping
peacefully, within arm's reach. She smiled and then turned back to her
father's closest friend, who had not missed the obvious change in her
body language that had occurred once she was sure that Mulder was well on
the road to recovery.
"Thanks for taking care of things for us," she said, knowing that it had
probably required a good deal of string-pulling to ensure that they would
be able to stay here rather than be transported to some mainland hospital
that would be more easily accessible to experts from the Centers for
Disease Control and/or the NIH.
"I wouldn't have had it any other way," he said, smiling softly.
"Anyway, it was the least that I could do for my favorite god daughter."
* * *
Monday November 9, 1997 8:35 AM EST
Isolated Intensive Care Unit: Base Hospital: Pearl Harbor Naval Station
Pearl Harbor Hawaii.
After her god father left, Scully went back to sleep, her body still
exhausted by whatever had happened to her. Like most parents of children
who have chronic diseases, Scully had learned to sleep lightly whenever
her partner was in the hospital and this time was no different. His
first movements and the response of the medical staff assigned to watch
them brought her to full consciousness in seconds.
"Whaaaah??" he asked, before the obligatory water could be given to him.
When it had, he tried again.
"What happened?" he said, after noticing both the hospital decor and the
gorgeous brunette who was leaning over him, full breasts straining
delightfully against her uniform.
"You've been in a coma Mulder," Scully said from where she lay.
"That's right, Fox," the nurse said engagingly.
"Oh," Mulder said, his face crinkled into the look that Scully knew meant
that he was doing his best to replay what had happened before he lost
consciousness. However, when he hadn't come out of his reverie some
fifteen seconds later, Scully became concerned, knowing that it never
took him long to remember anything.
"Scully," he said quietly, "I remember most of the day ... October 26th,
I think, and remember thinking that you were doing an amazing job of
getting the clues put together, but I don't remember anything after about
8:00 that night."
"To be honest Mulder, I don't remember much from about noon on the
Twenty-seventh on. I don't even remember capturing the suspect, but my
god father told me that we had captured him, and that you'd been shot.
Maybe it's just the drugs that they gave you for that, or the shock
caused by the injury itself."
"Maybe," Mulder said, clearly not fully convinced by Scully's theory.
"What's wrong, Mulder?" she asked, hearing his skepticism and for some
reason liking it even less than she usually did.
"It's just ..." he said, obviously not sure how to continue. However,
after a brief pause, he said, "It's just that I have the feeling that
some things happened during that time that I can't remember clearly. I
kind of remember an ultralight, and something about a clearing in a
forest, but the memories, if that's what they are, aren't very clear, and
don't seem to be connected to anything solid."
"It was probably a dream," Scully said. "People who are in coma for a
long time often have dream-like phases just before they come out. We're
both so weak that I'm not surprised that at least one of us is having a
few problems readjusting to things."
"Are you sure?" Mulder asked, the doubt still clear in his voice.
"Yes, Mulder, I'm sure." Scully said, more to get his mind off of the
problem than out of any inborn sense of surety.
"OK," he said, settling back into his bed, and happily watching the tall,
busty brunette move about the room and then becoming slightly
disappointed when she left. Scully, who had seen his eyes following the
woman as she performed her tasks, sighed and lay back, that slight pang
of jealousy and regret that always hit her during such flights of fancy
by her partner, touching her mind.
"What?" Mulder asked, having heard the sigh.
"It's just good to see that you're already recovering so quickly," Scully
said, trying to cover her sigh.
Mulder knew that he'd been caught ogling the nurse, but couldn't resist
teasing his partner. "Well, Scully, I'd be happy to 'play doctor' with
you, if you'd like," he said with a somewhat watered down version of his
usual playful leer.
She blushed, but in the tradition of the game, said: "Not this time,
Mulder, I have a headache."
"Oh well," he sighed, grinning at both her discomfort, and the feeling of
comfortable familiarity <or was it more than that, he wondered> that
always came over him when they got into one of these little games.
* * *
Wednesday November 11, 1997
The Star Ship Enterprise somewhere in interstellar space
As he waited for his officers to arrive at the E-deck conference room for
the final mission debriefing, James T. Kirk sighed with relief, the
knowledge that the mission was nearly over beginning to take hold in his
conscious mind. He was aware that they still needed to make the
harrowing transition back to their own time and that, consequently, the
mission was not truly over. However, he also wanted to be sure to deal
with some of the details of the mission before they could be swept aside
by other, more immediate, tasks. He also knew that the rest of the
details of the mission would be dealt with in a highly secret, Admirals
only, meeting at Star Fleet headquarters, and therefore, that he could
deal with the parts of the mission that had affected his ship directly at
this point without fear of censure.
When all of his officers had straggled into the briefing room, Kirk began
the meeting.
"Mr. Spock, we've just stayed in near-Earth space for three days
monitoring their communications to ensure that the cover story has a good
chance of holding. Your final action report on this part of the mission?"
"Admiral, it would appear that agents Mulder and Scully have chosen to
accept what they have been told. It is impossible to be absolutely
certain that they will not encounter triggers that we could not defend
against while repressing Ms. Scully's memory. We will only know this
when we return to our time."
"Very good, Mr. Spock." Kirk said. "What about the trigger that you
feared would result from Agent Scully watching that old vid program?"
"I have been carefully researching the cultural phenomenon known as Star
Trek, a television program that ultimately spawned five spin-off series
along with a half billion dollar per year entertainment industry
including conventions, paraphernalia, and program resales on video
cassettes amongst other industries. The show's creator, one Gene
Roddenberry, has been viewed as a visionary by those who followed the
lives of the characters that he created, and although it is certainly
possible that he had assistance from our time in developing his ideas, I
am most reasonably certain that his first series and our reality are
simply extremely parallel without any cross-connection between them.
Obviously it is possible that Mr. Roddenberry could have received
information about the future, but if he did, he would have had to be
extremely careful to protect it, and in some ways, his reality
diverges--in detail if not in fact--from our own. For instance, the
eugenics wars of the 1990s, did not happen. However, it *is* known that
genetic experiments were carried out at this time, and that at least some
of them had purposes similar to those stated in his television epic.
There are other differences in detail, which, I believe, can be used as
solid evidence to support a theory based on an unusually high level of
parallelism and nothing more.
The fans of Mr. Roddenberry's 'universe' as devotees of science fiction
referred to the various entertainment serials of this time, were, in many
ways, correct in thinking of him as a visionary. His work was one of the
first science fiction serials to present a positive vision of the future,
and his characters, developed a synergy that many felt was more 'natural'
than the other "science fiction" series of the day. It is possible that
The Roddenberry vision may have been critical in stabilizing what
remained of Earth's culture during and after Colonel Green's war during
the Twenty-first Century.
Ultimately, I am only certain of the fact that there is a high degree of
parallelism between 'Star Trek' and our reality. The causes are
uncertain, but the effect of the television show on the culture and
civilization of late Twentieth Century Earth can not be denied."
"I see," Kirk said, knowing that Spock had done all that he could to
research his report.
"You're sure that Ms. Scully won't be triggered by watching the show?"
"Yes sir," replied Spock and McCoy in stereo. After a glance between the
two of them, McCoy picked up the thread of their report. "I was able to
wipe her memory more thoroughly than I thought I'd be able to. As you
know, Jim, Spock added a secondary block which is intended as a
subconscious switch that will cause her to go to sleep if she's exposed
to a factor that triggers her memories in a way that we couldn't account
for through the work that I did." McCoy said.
"Are you sure that it'll work?" Kirk asked, fearful that they might have
to go back in order to reinforce the work that his officers had already done.
"You know Spock, Jim. The thing is a piece of work, and it should hold
up well, and be sufficiently innocuous to ensure that she won't try to
find out what's 'wrong' with her." McCoy replied, the confidence that he
had in the work that they had done clear in his voice and body language.
"Good," Kirk said, switching his focus toward another facet of the
problem that had brought them back in time. "...What about the Vulcan ship?"
"It continues on course, and should arrive in the Epsilon Aridoni system
in approximately thirty-seven days." Spock said.
"Will the crew remember enough to warrant an investigation?"
"Possibly," Spock said. "However, as I noted at the beginning of the
mission, such investigations were carried out under extremely tight
security, and their results, if any, have never been released."
"Good enough," Kirk said, knowing that such an investigation would
produce a slight, but still noticeable, change in the time stream.
However, there was nothing that they could have done differently, and so
he had to hope that with the Organians' intervention, it would be enough.
"Fine," he said. "is there anything else?"
As there was nothing, everyone began to prepare to leave. However,
before they could file out, the third watch helm officer's image popped
up on the briefing room view screen.
"Sir, we've entered the neighborhood of St. Peter's Star. ... awaiting
first-watch officers for time conversion course calculations," she said.
"Understood," we're on our way." Kirk said as he rose to accompany his
officers to The Bridge.
* * *
Monday November 16, 1997, 9:30 AM EST
an unknown location in New York City.
"So why, exactly, have you brought us here again?" demanded the
Englishman with the carefully manicured fingernails.
"I asked everyone to come here because we've had a first contact with
another alien race." Cancer man replied.
"I'd thought that something was happening over here," The Well-manicured
Man said quietly. "What do they want of us?"
"Nothing, other than that we stop all experiments on Mulder and Scully,"
Cancer man replied.
"You know that is impossible," his superior replied.
"Nevertheless, we'd better be damned sure to cancel anything that we've
got planned. They implied that if we didn't, either our benefactors, or
other forces out there might feel the need to enforce the Roswell treaty."
Cancer man saw the glances flit about the table, and knew, in some
detail, what his colleagues were thinking.
"I think that you'd better start from the beginning so we can make a
decision," said their Well-Manicured superior.
After telling the story, including the use of several transcripts of
tapes that he had secretly made, Cancer man sat back to await the
response of his colleagues.
"Well," the representative from Germany said with a sigh. "Its obvious
that we aren't going to be able to continue the experimental work that
Mr. Nakazashi had planned for Ms. Scully."
"What do you mean?" Nakazashi demanded, rising to his feet. "We in the
east have always felt that the mind is a key to physical and mental
well-being, and now you're telling me that our best opportunity to study
the long-term effects of our experimental work on someone who survived it
through the force of her personality alone is lost?"
"I believe that is what the man said," agreed the Well-manicured man.
"I refuse to give up such an opportunity," Nakazashi said.
"I don't think that we have a choice in the matter. We can, I'm sure,
find people like agent Scully." Cancer man said.
"Yes, but that will take years!"
"Then it'll have to take as long as it takes, we just can't afford any
other way."
"But...."
"No, he's right," sighed the Well-manicured man. "Further, we're going
to have to be very careful about reeducating them should that prove
necessary in the future. I think that it would be best if we had a point
person with all of the resources necessary to make sure that whatever
they hold in their minds stays behind the blocks that the new aliens
installed."
"Agreed," said the German. "It seems obvious to me that our American
colleague should be that person as he has to spend the most time working
against them, and has reestablished some temporary control over their
supervisor."
"I'll be happy to do it," Cancer man said, knowing that his colleagues
would have forced him into it, had he not felt that this was the only
acceptable solution already.
"Very well," Sighed the Englishman. "Are there any other situations that
have arisen since our last meeting?"
The German stood, ready to begin his report on a new advancement in
propulsion theory that had been made based on technology on loan to
German scientists from a Vegan ship that had crashed in Canada in 1965.
Cancer man, who had warned his colleagues of his previously arranged
meeting with the primary observer for Mulder and Scully left to
reacquaint himself with the woman who had been a key part of his plan to
distract Mulder since his return from ... wherever he and Scully had
been.
* * *
Monday November 16, 1997 2:36 PM EST
An unknown location in New York City.
"Yes, sir." said the tall brunette standing before the desk in his New
York office. "He seems to have gone for Scully's explanation of events,
and has been ... diverted by his attendants from time to time. On his
first morning, I believe that ... I ... was rather distracting to him,
but the effect seems to have worn off over the last few days."
"You were distracting to him?" Cancer man asked, somewhat surprised that
his agent had realized Mulder's preference in women.
"Yes, sir." she said with a small laugh, "He seems to like tall
brunettes, something that clearly bothers his partner, but which they
have never discussed."
"I see," he said, putting the news of the increasing level of Scully's
possible displeasure concerning Mulder's preferences in female company
away for possible use in the future. "I expect that they will fly back
to the mainland in a few days, but obviously your part in this operation
is complete. You may expect to be reassigned as soon as you are needed.
Until then, you're welcome to take some time off and get some rest. I'm
sure that the last few weeks have been rather tiring," he said, glad that
this "nurse" who was actually one of his best scientists, would not have
to be wasted in an attempt to use her obvious charms to distract Mulder
from trying to find out what had happened. Losing such an operative to
what could turn into a long-term mission wh