--- TEN ---



"What you did, Agent Scully, was, at best foolhardy, and at worst a 
blatant violation of procedure!" Skinner was referring to her 
decision to enter the Manners Ranch without backup, a decision 
that might all too easily have proven fatal.

"I don't think we should forget, Sir, that it was *you* who agreed 
that Cain should contact Agent Scully!" Mulder was seething.

Any amount of personal attack on him, or on his X Files, had 
become par for the course, water off a duck's back, but he did feel 
extremely protective towards Scully, and he wasn't about to stand 
by and watch her record get smeared because of her association 
with him. Other agents had done worse, far worse, and Skinner 
knew it.

Assistant Director Walter Skinner prowled back and forth behind 
his desk like a big cat that had scented a fresh kill. He rounded on 
Mulder and jabbed his index finger towards him. "Mulder. I have 
*tried* to help both you and Agent Scully on this one."

Scully was about to speak, but her partner got there first. "Yeah, 
some help. Letting her almost get killed because -"

"- Because the MI6 US Liaison Officer to the Bureau requested it, 
and I was ordered to comply by the Chief of Staff at the White 
House!" Skinner snapped, angrily.

"Sir." It was Scully.

Skinner started to speak, but then he stopped himself and gave way. 
"What is it, Agent Scully?"

"With all due respect to Agent Mulder, the decision to return to 
Manners Point was mine alone. It is true that Cain approached me, 
but it was always made clear that the final decision had to be 
mine."

She looked across to Mulder, who was scowling. Sorry, Mulder, 
she said, with body language alone, thanks for looking out for me, 
but I'm a big girl now. A slight nod from him told her that he 
understood. He wasn't happy, but he understood.

"And, for the record, Agent Mulder." Skinner continued, still on his 
feet. "I did not *order* Agent Scully to co-operate, even though 
that was the implication behind the instructions that I received."

Mulder was weighing up the possibility that Skinner might be 
telling the truth. On a number of occasions it had seemed that 
Skinner had put himself on the line to protect them, yet he always 
felt more than a little unease towards their immediate superior, and 
there could probably never quite be trust between them.

Wearily, Skinner dropped back into his chair. He picked up the 
report and started flicking through the neatly printed pages. "Are 
you both sure about this?" He asked, reading down the Executive 
Summary. "Time travel experiments. A creature that rips people's 
bodies apart -"

"It's how it happened." Said Mulder. "Sir, you've been involved in 
too many of our cases not to admit to the existence of things 
outside our conventional understanding."

Skinner looked at him, then continued reading. "A hundred 
thousand dollars worth of civilian property destroyed by an 
explosion of indeterminate origin. Government troops ... which, 
incidentally, the Department of Defense denies ever having been 
involved ... placing themselves under the command of a British 
agent. Cain himself gone ... Agent Mulder, are you *sure* this is 
what you want to file?"

"It's how it happened." Mulder repeated.

Except that it wasn't, Dana thought, not exactly. Nowhere in the 
report was there a mention of her encounter with Fabien Castello 
aboard the alien artifact. As far as Mulder knew, she had no 
memory of the time between her disappearance from the Manners 
Ranch, and the moment that she had found Mulder unconscious at 
the site of the explosion. Looking at him, she sensed that he knew 
there was something more, he knew, but he wasn't pressing it, for 
now.

Skinner sighed with resignation, and folded shut the file, pushing it 
slowly across his desk back towards Mulder. "Very well."

There was silence for a few seconds, an uneasy vacuum where each 
waited for the other to speak.

Mulder broke it. "Is that all, Sir?"

Dana looked across at him. She knew that tone. The defiance. The 
challenge. Prove me wrong, he was saying. Put up, or shut up.

"No, Agent Mulder. That will not be all."

They both waited.

"You have both been ordered to England to testify at a special 
enquiry into Cain's actions."

"But, Sir ..." Mulder started to protest, but then his voice died away 
as he remembered that England was where the DawnBreak was 
located, where the rest of the missing pieces from the puzzle could 
undoubtedly be found.

"When, Sir?" Scully asked, rescuing her partner from the obligation 
of completing a sentence that he had obviously thought better of.

"Immediately, Agent Scully. In fact, you're both booked out on the 
eight pm flight." He waited for either of the two agents to 
comment, and then signalled that the meeting was at an end. 
"That's all. Have a good trip."

Just as they reached the door, Skinner added. "And remember that 
you'll be guests of the British Government. They don't take kindly 
to 'unconventional' methods over there."

Mulder looked at Scully, and she allowed the faintest trace of a 
smile to crease her lips.

"We'll be on our very best behaviour, Sir." Mulder said, a 
mischievous grin on his face.

"That, Agent Mulder, is exactly what's giving me cause for 
concern."


* * *


Once they were on the other side of the green Customs channel at 
Heathrow Airport's Terminal One, Mulder and Scully were greeted 
by a smartly dressed dark-haired woman in her mid thirties. She 
crossed the Arrivals area to where they were standing, amidst their 
bags, the pair of them looking extremely conspicuous.

"Laura Warren." She held out her hand first to Scully, and then to 
Mulder. "Ministry of Defence."

"Sorry about that." Mulder smiled his best schoolboyish smile. "We 
missed the 'FBI Agents This Way' sign somewhere back there."

"Oh, don't apologise." Laura replied, returning his smile. "I always 
get lost myself when I come here."

Scully cleared her throat.

"Sorry." Said Laura, blushing just a little. "Follow me. I'll take you 
to your hotel first, then we can get down to the office. Oh ... almost 
forgot." She reached into the pocket of her jacket and produced a 
pair of plastic identity cards. She checked the pictures on each, 
before handing one to Mulder, and the other to Scully. "Not very 
good likenesses, I'm afraid."

"Department of The Home Office." Scully read out loud the words 
on the card. "The Home Secretary requests that all possible co-
operation and facilities be granted to the bearer."

"I'm afraid your FBI passes won't go down very well over here." 
She explained. "Our Police get a bit touchy about that sort of 
thing."

"Cool." Said Mulder. "Say, is there a Collector's Album we can get 
for these?"


* * *


Vine watched them from a distance. He watched all three of them, 
their mannerisms, their reactions, the way their body language 
betrayed their feelings. But mostly he watched her, Special Agent 
Dana Scully, The One.

The woman that he would be killing very soon.

They started to walk out of the Arrivals Hall, and Vine followed 
them at a discrete distance, his slim skeletal frame making it easy 
to slip out of sight whenever one of them would cast a cautionary 
glance behind them.

It was the constant and subtle surveillance of their surroundings 
that would have told him, if he hadn't already known, that these 
three were highly trained. Not tourists. Not business people. 
Experts. Agents of their respective governments, trained to kill and 
not to be killed.

Like him.

He watched, as Scully broke away from the other two and went for 
the washroom. Mulder and Warren stopped on the other side of the 
hallway, chatting to one another, but still glancing around them.

Vine moved swiftly, pulling the thin steel wire from the cuff of his 
grey jacket, crossing the hallway in plain sight of them. Blending 
into the crowd, and coming within half a metre of the entrance, 
waiting for the opportunity that he knew would present itself.

Now. They had both looked away at the same moment, distracted 
by some humorous comment that Mulder had made. Funny guy, 
thought Vine. Laugh after this!

He slipped inside, pushing past an old woman who looked 
extremely indignant at his intrusion.

Scully was at the wash basin, drying her face with a paper towel. 
Nobody else there. Perfect. Do it. Kill. Kill.

KILL!

Both hands raised. Wire stretched tightly between them. Her vision 
obscured by the crumpled paper. Down. Around the neck. Pull.

No! Hands in the way.

She's struggling. Kill.

Must KILL.

Scully reacted in seconds, twisting around in Vine's grip, keeping 
both her hands in front of her face and holding off the sharp wire. 
She felt the dampness spreading across the back of her hand as the 
steel cut into her flesh.

"Mulder!" She shouted, elbowing Vine in the stomach with all of 
her strength.

Wouldn't work. Couldn't do it here. Not now.

Must KILL.

But not now.

Vine released his grip and pushed himself away from her, turning 
for the door. Scully collapsed forward, frantically untangling 
herself from the deadly wire.


* * *


"Scully!" Mulder reacted at once. Warren was close behind him. 
They both saw the man run from the washroom.

"You check Scully!" Warren shouted, as they pushed their way 
through the crowds. "I'll take him!"

Mulder was inside in seconds. "Dana." He got to her side and 
helped her to stand up.

"I'm ... alright, Mulder." She said, after a few seconds, though she 
was still visibly shaking. Mulder soaked another towel in cold 
water and carefully wiped away the blood that had rubbed off her 
hands onto her face.

She held onto his arm for a moment, steadying herself, fighting 
back the urge to retch, finally resting her head on his shoulder.

"Welcome to England." Mulder said, ironically.


* * *


Laura sprinted across the main concourse, drawing her weapon, 
and clipping her ID to the lapel of her jacket. She started to gain on 
the running man as he raced for the glass doors.

At that distance she knew that she'd have one chance to drop him. 
Just one.

When he had to pause to get through the automatic doors.

The shot was already forming in her mind's eye. No civilians. Clear 
line of sight. Good light. Perfect. She raised the Heckler and Koch 
9mm automatic pistol and took aim with both hands.

"Government Agent! Stop or I fire!"

But he wasn't going to stop. The shot wasn't going to happen. He 
was going to crash right through the glass.

"Freeze!" She shouted one last time, half a second before gently 
squeezing the trigger. Three shots in rapid succession. Steel 
jacketed lead projectiles slamming into the glass at 335 metres a 
second. Shattering it. And missing the target.

Like a phantom he had seemed to twist at the last minute. Gone out 
of shot.

In two seconds she was outside, out amongst the startled crowds 
milling around in the taxi pickup area, and the man was gone.

"Shit!" She shouted out loud.

Then, realising that she had drawn quite a lot of attention to 
herself, she holstered her weapon, and stepped back inside, back to 
find her two FBI colleagues. At least she hoped that they were still 
two.


* * *


Vine found cover amongst the concrete pillars of the Short Stay car 
park. He waited until his heart rate had slowed, until his breathing 
had returned to something close to normal.

The adrenaline rush was fading now, but the high had been 
incredible. Exhilarating. Exquisite.

And the taste of her. The touch of her. Oh, the pain that he would 
inflict on Dana Scully. Already, he could imagine her last moments 
on Earth. They would be exceptional.

It would be very soon now. It would be.



--- ELEVEN ---



: Secure Radiological Treatment Facility
: St. Anthonys Military Hospital
: Cambridge, England, EU
: Sunday August 19th


Flemming peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles and 
scanned down the charts with rapid eye movements. After several 
minutes, during which he had constantly sucked his tongue in 
concentration, much to the annoyance of the man waiting for 
answers, he appeared to have come to a conclusion. The doctor 
nodded his head slowly, thoughtfully.

"Well, Doctor?" John Trent had been, he thought, extremely 
patient, and patience was not normally a significant aspect of his 
character. Not ever, in fact.

"Well it's all *very* interesting." Said Flemming, carefully hooking 
the charts back onto the end of the bed frame again. He took off his 
spectacles, thrust them into the top pocket of his white lab coat, 
and then folded his arms in front of him.

Trent found himself reminded of some nutty professor character 
from out of an old 1950's 'B' movie. Which, come to think of it, 
was really a pretty accurate all-round description of Doctor 
Christopher.H.Flemming, a man who he considered to be as nutty 
as a fruitcake, even if he was the most highly qualified expert on 
radiation-induced illnesses anywhere in Europe. The World, 
probably.

Trent sat down on the edge of the table, sighed deeply, and rubbed 
his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "Then why don't you tell 
me all about it, Doctor? There's a good chap."

"Oh, this man is Cain." Said Flemming with certainty. "Positively 
no doubt about that. But ... he has *changed*."

Trent looked at him quizzically.

"He's no longer the same man as the one whose medical records 
you so kindly supplied to me."

"Perhaps you might take the time to explain the apparent paradox 
in your last statements." Said Trent, with more of his uncommon 
patience.

"Well, although this man has Cain's DNA." Flemming unfolded his 
arms and started drawing out a shape in the air with his fingertips, 
miming the effect of something being twisted and stretched. "There 
is also something ... else ... several hundred additional proteins, all 
of which are completely unknown anywhere within the entire 
evolutionary chain of the planet!"


* * *


"Any luck?" Warren leant over Scully's shoulder, placing a cup of 
steaming hot black coffee in front of the other woman. Dana was 
intently studying the pages of black and white photographs, all of 
them convicted murderers, rapists, or criminal psychotics; and each 
one of them stared out at her, and reminded her of the incident at 
the airport. (But, I don't *want* to remember!)

Scully looked up, stifling a yawn. "Excuse me." She apologised. 
"Jet lag, I guess."

"Scully." Mulder sat across the small table from her, his hands 
steepled in front of him. He had been studying her for the last few 
minutes. "I think you should get some rest. You've had quite a 
shock ... We can do this later."

"He's right." Laura agreed, taking the book of 'mug shots' away 
from her. "And, as you said, you really didn't get all that good a 
look at him anyway."

Scully raised her bandaged hand to stifle another yawn. "It's 
alright." She said, picking up the coffee. "Really."

Laura sat down with them, putting down the closed book of 
criminal record sheets in front of her. She tapped the blue plastic 
cover with her forefinger. "Too many suspects." She said, shaking 
her head. "We need to narrow the criteria."

"Agreed." Said Mulder. He got up and went around to Scully's side, 
placing his hand on her shoulder in a brotherly manner. "But not 
now. Come on, Scully, I'm taking you back to the hotel."

"Mulder, I am perfectly alright." She started to protest, but then the 
dizzy spell washed over her, and she felt her balance slipping 
away, her vision clouding. Mulder's face swam before her like a 
bloated guppy. "Uh ... must be concussion -" She mumbled, as the 
lights went out for her.

Reacting quickly, he managed to catch her before she fell off the 
chair. The cup crashed to the floor, shattering instantly, and 
spreading the hot liquid out over the brightly polished wood.

"Give me a hand here!"

Laura helped him to move her to the leather couch against the far 
wall of the reading room.

"Don't worry, we've got a doctor on site." Laura said, seeing the 
concern on his face, and touching his hand in reassurance. "I'll go 
for him. She'll be fine."

He nodded, but Mulder didn't look away from his partner, not for 
one moment.


* * *


Fabien Castello slipped through the heavy steel gates, pulling them 
closed behind him. He paused momentarily, to adjust the hang of 
the 'Borough of Wandsworth: Condemned Property - Keep Away' 
sign, and then he buttoned up his smart black jacket, brushed a 
speck of dust from his shoulder, adjusted the set of his thin black 
tie, looked up at the morning sun, and set off at a brisk pace, 
whistling as he went.

On the corner of Evesham Avenue, he hailed a black cab.

"Where to, Guv'nor?" The driver asked, cheerfully flicking the 
indicator to 'On Hire'.

"Riverwalk House." Said Castello, climbing into the back. "Do you 
know it?"

"Just off the Strand?" The driver pulled away with a jerking motion 
that made Castello reach out urgently for the leather pull handle 
over the door in order to steady himself.

"Yes, that's correct." Said Castello, recovering his balance.

"Yeah, I know it. You just sit back and enjoy the ride, Guv."

The taxi swerved hard left across Metropolitan Way, cutting over 
the filter lane and joining Moorfield Avenue where, two days 
before, the police traffic cameras had been put out of action by a 
swerving milk truck.

"Out, see." Said the driver, leaving just one hand on the wheel as 
he proudly pointed out the severely buckled camera post. "Mate of 
mine did that." And then he swerved again, just missing a Royal 
Mail Parcel Force van, that had been very clearly indicating that it 
was about to make a right turn.

"Cretin!" He shook his clenched fist at the confused van driver, and 
jabbed his foot down on the accelerator.

Castello took out a brilliant white handkerchief from his top 
pocket, unfolded it very carefully, and then started gently patting 
the sweat from his forehead.

"Yeah, that's right, Guv. You just relax. I'll get you there."

"In this lifetime, I hope." Said Castello, under his breath.


* * *


When Scully came around, the first thing that she saw was the pale 
cream emulsioned ceiling. There was a crack in it, a thin hairline 
crack, that somebody had tried to disguise by applying an excess of 
paint to it, but the ceiling in her lounge wasn't pale cream, it had 
never been pale cream, she didn't even like pale cream.

"Scully?" It was Mulder. Hearing his voice, snapped her mind back 
into context, and then she knew why the ceiling was pale cream, 
and why it was that she had the beginnings of a very bad headache.

The doctor leant over her, an elderly man with very little thin grey 
hair left at the sides of his shiny head, he looked down at her with a 
pair of friendly grey eyes.

"Miss Scully. You have a mild concussion." He explained.

"M .. Must have hit my head." She muttered. "In the str - struggle."

"Scully. I know you didn't want to go the hearings." Said Mulder, 
who was hovering around just behind the doctor. "But don't you 
think this is a bit extreme?"

"I recommend a few days rest." The doctor folded up his 
stethoscope, and returned it to the old black medical bag. "Oh, and 
if she takes a couple of paracetamol every four hours ..."

"Thank you, Doctor." Laura showed him out, then turned back to 
face Mulder. "The hearing doesn't start until Wednesday. Why 
don't I take you two back to the hotel?"

"Fine." Then Mulder remembered that today was Sunday. "I 
wonder why Skinner wanted us out here so soon."

"Skinner?"

"Our Assistant Director." Said Scully, propping herself up on one 
elbow.

"Ah, the Boss." She realised. "OK Dana, are you up to making a 
move?"

Scully nodded, she started climbing to her feet, and Mulder moved 
at once to help her, but she waved him off. "It was just a little 
concussion, Mulder. I'm not ready to claim on my invalidity 
insurance yet."

Laura Warren had brought a plastic container back with her when 
she'd gone for the doctor. Now she went to the container, and 
removed the lid, taking out the two 9mm automatic pistols and a 
pair of belt holsters. "Here." She said, handing them both to 
Mulder.

"We're not authorised to carry firearms here." He started to say.

"What is it that you people say? A minor technical detail?" Laura 
put the lid back on the box. "That *may* have been a one-off 
incident back at Heathrow ..."

"... Or somebody may be specifically targeting me." Scully finished 
the other woman's sentence, and her words hung in the air.

Mulder handed one of the pistols to Dana. Without hesitation, she 
clipped the holster to the back of her belt.


* * *


They walked down the sweeping steps of Riverwalk House, 
towards the waiting Vauxhall Omega estate car, its black paintwork 
reflecting the facade of the impressive glass fronted structure, 
which, in turn, reflected the speckled white clouds that marred an 
otherwise bright blue sky. Dana was reminded of some obscure 
piece of modern artwork; 'A reflection on reflections', she thought, 
not knowing if there really was such a piece, but it seemed 
appropriate.

Tyres screeching, a tatty black cab pulled up in front of the waiting 
car, and the thin, smartly dressed, man stepped out. He seemed to 
be extremely anxious to be out of the vehicle, and pressed a large 
denomination banknote into the driver's hand.

"'Ere, 'old on, Guv. This is far too much!" The driver called after 
him.

"Keep it." Said the man, not looking back as he started to ascend 
the steps.

As they passed, Dana glanced in his direction, just briefly, just for 
long enough to recognise him. He looked at her, said nothing, then 
continued on up the steps towards the main entrance of the 
impressive office building.

"What is it?" Mulder asked, sensing that something had just taken 
place, something that he had not been a part of. "Scully, do you 
know that man?"

She looked behind them, up the steps, at the back of the smartly 
dressed man who was now disappearing through the revolving 
doors. "Uh, no. I thought I recognised him, that's all."

Laura's hand went instinctively to her holstered weapon. "Dana, 
was that the man who attacked you?"

"No. No, definitely not." She shook her head with certainty, but, 
truthfully, it was hard to be definite about anything.


* * *


Vine ran the tips of his fingers along the edge of the titanium blade, 
caressing it like he were brushing the fine hairs on a woman's arm, 
feeling its perfection, its killing efficiency, its unbridled lethality.

Its ability to maim and to kill, in the right hands.

>From the driver's seat of his rental car he looked out across the 
Strand, where the three of them were getting into the Omega. 
Mulder, Warren, and Dana Scully. He would kill them all now, kill 
them while he forced The One to watch her friends being 
dismembered before her eyes.

And then he would start on her, and it would take a very long time 
indeed, before he finally killed her.

As the 'S' registration Omega estate pulled out into the Strand, Vine 
set the combat knife down on the passenger seat and started up the 
engine. He swung the Rover 214 out into the right hand lane of the 
one-way system, crossing quickly to the left lane to slot in behind 
the black car ahead.

And his thoughts returned to Dana Scully, to The One. He could 
prolong her suffering for hours, days, and her suffering would be 
his pleasure, his ecstasy.

His purpose!



--- TWELVE ---



Cautiously, Trent crossed the underground parking area, threading 
his way between the parked vehicles until he came to the black 
Ford Scorpio. He went around to the passenger side, opened the 
door, and climbed inside.

"You're late, Mr. Trent." Said the man sitting behind the wheel, his 
breathing heavy and laboured from the effects of some serious 
bronchial complaint. Trent didn't know if it was asthma, or 
something worse; and the man didn't even smoke!

"The situation is somewhat more complex than we had at first 
envisaged." Trent said, as if in mitigation for his tardiness.

"Complexity is what we pay you to remove for us." The man 
rasped, phlegm sticking in his throat and clogging the passageways 
in his lungs. He coughed hard several times, eventually clearing the 
blockage.

"I have seen the survivor, and examined his records." Trent 
reported.

"Is he Cain?"

Trent looked across at the other man, noting that his face, as 
always, was hidden by the shadows, swathed by the convenient 
presence of darkness. "Yes, he is, and the change has occurred."

The Executive thought about that for a moment. "Then our options 
have been reduced considerably."

"There *is* the further complication of the two American FBI 
agents."

The Executive coughed again, bringing up more fluid and spitting 
it into the handkerchief that he now held in front of his mouth. "- 
That particular complication has been attended to."

"But, how?" Trent asked. "Do we have another operative in place?"

"You need to know only that the complication will be resolved. 
Good day, Mr. Trent."

Trent got out of the car and started back across the garage to his 
own vehicle. Half way there, he heard a car engine start up, 
followed by the screech of tyres, and when he looked back, the 
Scorpio had gone.

He took the transceiver from his pocket, punched a four digit code 
into the instrument's keypad, and held it up to his mouth, pressing 
the Talk button. "Six R Two for Seven L Forty. Authorisation is 
given. Begin the process."

He listened for the single burst of static that signalled receipt of his 
instruction, and then pocketed the unit once again.

In the darkened corner of the parking garage, a figure slipped back 
into the shadows, having been a witness to everything that had just 
transpired.


* * *


: St Anthonys Military Hospital, Cambridge


The orderly looked down his list one more time. "Well, I'm sorry, 
Sir, but it says nothing about any transfer down here, and I can't 
allow the patient to be moved without proper authority."

The older of the two men nodded slowly. "Quite right." He agreed. 
"My mistake. Here, let me show you our authority." The man 
reached inside his coat, produced a Smith & Wesson Model 29 
long barrelled .44 Magnum revolver, then shot the orderly right 
through the centre of his forehead.

The younger man looked first at the blood all over the wall, then at 
the body of the orderly, and finally back to his colleague. "I say, 
that was a bit messy, James."

"Yes." Said the older man, returning his weapon to its holster.

They stepped over the body, and, together, they walked towards the 
ward where Cain was receiving treatment for the effects of 
exposure to an unknown form of radiation.


* * *


: MoD Restricted Zone, Twineham Down Research Establishment


The soldier raised his rifle and directed it towards the approaching 
Ford Transit van. The van slowed to a halt just before the barrier, 
and the passenger side window was slowly wound down. The 
soldier approached cautiously, his weapon at the ready.

"This is Ministry of Defence property. Identify yourselves."

An attractive blonde girl smiled at him from within the van. He 
took a step closer.

"Sergeant." She said, knowing that he was a corporal. "Can you 
help us? We're lost." She pouted her lips provocatively.

"Well, I'm sorry, Miss, but I'm afraid you'll have to turn back."

"Oh, OK, but could you just take a look at this map for me. We're 
trying to find the Seven Bells pub."

"Well, I don't -"

She smiled at him again. (Come on. You know you want it. Come 
closer. Take a really good look. See what's on offer).

The young soldier stepped up to the van and looked inside. He 
couldn't quite see the man who was driving, but he could see that 
the girl had on a very short skirt, and that the top buttons of her 
blouse were undone. She had a crumpled map in her hand.

"OK, miss. Let me take a look ... now where did you say you were 
looking for?" He took the map, but his eyes were on the tops of her 
bronzed thighs. "The Seven Bells was it -"

"It should be right around ... HERE!" The fingers of her right hand 
jabbed out with lightning speed, connecting with and crushing his 
adam's apple instantly. The soldier choked and gagged frantically 
as he felt the life draining from him, and then the knife severed his 
spinal cord at the base of his neck, and he died.

She pushed the body away from the van, and they crashed straight 
through the barrier.

"Is the timer set?" The driver asked her, swinging the blue van 
violently across the empty parking bays in front of the main 
administrative building.

She finished wiping blood from the knife, slipped it back into the 
waistband of her skirt, and then leant back over her seat to look 
into the rear of the van, where the timer attached to a 1.5 kiloton 
Tactical Nuclear Device had just ticked down to 02:00:00.


* * *


Laura Warren sat across the low table looking at Mulder, who was 
staring out of the tinted window at the early morning bustle of 
Oxford Street. The barman came over with their coffees and set 
them down on the table. He cleared his throat and waited patiently.

Laura handed him a pristine 10 Euro note. "Yes, thank you." She 
said, waving him away. The barman looked at the money, nodded 
appreciatively, then returned to his work, discretely slipping the 
payment into his back trouser pocket.

"Fox Mulder." She said, sipping the bitter continental style coffee. 
"You know, I've heard quite a lot about you."

"Not Fox." Said Mulder, his gaze still focused somewhere across 
the other side of the street outside the hotel. "Just Mulder."

"OK." She drank some more of the coffee, and waited for him to 
add an explanation, which he didn't.

"... And the X Files. I've heard about them as well. There's even a 
television series over here, based on something like that. An 
American import, of course."

"Perhaps I should get on to my agent." He said, still preoccupied.

Laura started fiddling with a beer mat, that somebody had 
neglected to clear away after the night before's trade. It was 
triangular, and she started rotating it in steps, pointing each apex 
towards Mulder in turn.

Eventually, he looked round. "Sorry." He said, forcing a smile. His 
coffee remained untouched in front of him.

Laura gestured towards him with the tatty beer mat. "There's 
something else troubling you, isn't there?"

"Besides the attack on Scully? Yeah. Something not *quite* right 
about all of this."

"Care to share it?"

Mulder thought about that for a while, finally taking some of the 
coffee. He winced at the bitter taste. "Did you work for Cain?"

"I worked *with* him." She said. "We were in different sections. 
My job is the protection of scientific and biological research 
establishments. He was involved in a ... different ... way."

"Oh, how so?"

She leant towards him. "Let's just say that his responsibility was at 
a more abstract level."

"Covering up unexplained incidents involving paranormal 
phenomena, for example?" He asked, not really expecting a 
confirmation from her.

"Agent Mulder. This is England. The home of democracy."

"Right." Said Mulder, drinking some more of the coffee, and not 
liking it very much at all.

She leant back in the leather chair, still playing with the beer mat 
between her hands. "Mulder, can I trust you?"

He looked startled by that. "I don't know." Mulder replied, 
enigmatically. "It depends on what you want to trust me *with*."

"Fair enough." Finally, she put the cardboard triangle down, much 
to Mulder's relief. "I have some ... evidence ... of the existence of a 
covert organisation operating amongst the upper echelons of the 
British Security and Defence establishments."

He put the coffee cup down, and a wide smile creased his face.

"Tell me more."


* * *


"Miss Scully is in room two twelve." Said the concierge, checking 
her mail box.

"Thank you." Said Vine, politely.

"Sir, would you like me to call her to let her know that you're 
coming?"

Vine turned back and smiled. "No ... I think I'd like to surprise 
her."

"Very good sir." The concierge took one more look at the Eu50 
note that Vine had generously offered him for his assistance, and 
went happily back to his work.

Vine nodded his head in thanks one more time, then he stepped 
across to the lifts.


* * *


"We cannot act until the first matter is resolved." Said O'Connell, 
his palms flat out on the surface of the large black desk.

"But she is The One." Castello argued. "She is The One, and I am 
under instructions to obtain her co-operation. Whatever the 
consequences."

"Doubtless those *are* your instructions." The older man scowled, 
deepening the furrows in his already creased brow. He looked like 
the kind of man who spent most of his life being angry about 
something or someone. At the moment he was getting very angry 
with Fabien Castello.

"Sir, I don't think you quite understand the seriousness of the 
situation."

That was definitely not the right thing to say to James O'Connell, 
Director General, Office for the Security of Scientific and 
Biological Research. Not the right thing at all.

O'Connell leant across his desk towards Castello, wringing his 
palms together as he thought about the best way to totally and 
utterly demolish this insignificant and irritating little shit.

"Mr. Castello." He said, his voice coming out as if it were being 
filtered through a gravel pit. "You may be a very big shot over on 
the other side of the pond. But this is England. And you are in my 
office. And I am the one who will judge the seriousness of the 
*situation*.

"Is that clear enough for you? Or would you like me to provide 
some additional *clarification*?" His emphasis on that last word 
was not lost on Castello.

Castello swallowed hard. "Um ... that's perfectly clear, Sir. I was 
simply seeking to appraise you of new developments and priorities, 
of which you may not previously have been aware."

O'Connell sat back in the large black leather swivel chair, folding 
his hands in his lap. "You can consider me appraised." He said, 
now smiling.

"Yes, Sir."

"Well?"

"Sir, what about Agent Scully? If their operative is allowed to 
succeed -"

"Their operative will not succeed." Said O'Connell, confidently. He 
smiled again.

"I don't understand."

"Of course not. You see, Mr. Castello, what you have to remember 
is that we Brits have been doing this kind of thing since before the 
first settlers landed on your shores, back in the days of Christopher 
Columbus. And we are rather good at it."

Castello looked doubtful.

"Believe me." Said O'Connell, now waving him away dismissively 
and returning to some paperwork. "Their operative will not 
succeed. When the scenario has been completed, according to the 
plan, you can do what you wish with Agent Scully. Until that time, 
she is under the protection of this Office."


* * *


"Yes, who is it?" Scully, dressed in a fluffy white bath robe, was 
scrubbing her hair vigorously with a matching towel, as she walked 
across to answer the door.

"Some light refreshment, Ma'am." The voice replied. 
"Compliments of the management."

"Oh ... OK, just leave it outside."

A pause. "Ma'am. I also have a note here, from a Mr. Mulder. He 
did say that it was urgent."

Strange, thought Scully, why wouldn't he come in person, unless of 
course he was off on another one of his damn fool crusades. That 
was all they needed right now.

She threw the towel down and reached for the door lock, stopping 
herself only at the very last minute, with the catch half drawn. 
Something made her do a double-take, something felt not quite 
right, so she turned for the table, and the Browning 9mm 
automatic, and, just as she did so, the door crashed in upon her, 
throwing her backwards into the wall, winding her.

"Surprise!" Said Vine, smiling sadistically, as he drew the 20cm 
combat knife from inside his trenchcoat.



--- THIRTEEN ---



Mulder saw him first, the Hotel Manager rushing anxiously across 
towards them, that short stubby little man with the ridiculous 
moustache. Laura had been talking, but he raised his hand and she 
stopped at once, also looking around.

Mulder knew, he just knew.

Scully.

He started to rise from the chair. "What is it?"

"It's Miss Scully, Sir." Said the Manager, his voice and hands 
trembling. "Please - there's been some sort of incident ..."


* * *


Mulder kicked the wall violently, leaving a deep indentation in the 
plaster where his foot had made contact. Both he and Warren had 
their weapons drawn, and were surveying the devastation left 
behind in Scully's hotel room.

"Calm down, Mulder." Laura was examining the traces of blood on 
the wall, near where it looked as if most of the struggle had taken 
place. "That won't help!"

He came over and knelt down beside her, slowly bringing his rage 
back under control.

"Who is he?" Mulder snapped. "I mean, just what the *hell* is 
going on here?"

Laura shook her head slowly. "If he'd just wanted to kill her, he 
could have done it here."

"He wants more." Said Mulder. "This guy is a total sicko." He 
stood up and started walking around, rubbing the back of his neck. 
"... Where would he take her?"

"The Metropolitan Police have been alerted." She said. "All exits 
out of the capital are under surveillance. I've also raised a Code 
Red with MI5 and with my own people. We'll find her." Warren 
touched the patch of blood that had soaked into the carpet, then she 
picked up the crumpled towel and started to examine it. "We will."

"No, there's something else going on here." Mulder insisted. 
"Something bigger. It's too much of a coincidence. He targeted 
Scully at the airport. He *knew* who she was. He must have been 
stalking her since then."

"What about the man at Riverwalk House." Laura suggested, 
remembering the thin, smartly dressed, man that Dana had seemed 
to recognise.

Mulder pictured the man in his mind's eye. Scully had certainly 
recognised him, but the real question was why she'd been unwilling 
to talk about it, either then, or later, when they had returned to the 
hotel. "Scully. Where has he taken you?" He muttered under his 
breath.

When the telephone rang, they both went for it, but Mulder was 
there first, by a mile. "Yes!"

"Agent Mulder?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"You don't need to know that."

"Now look-"

With a stirring motion of her left hand Laura indicated that he 
should keep him talking, while she pulled the transceiver from her 
belt and stepped out into the hallway.

Rapidly, she punched a four digit code into the keypad and held the 
instrument up to her face. "Five L Five for Central ... Patch me 
through to Communications, please ... Comms? This is Agent 
Laura Warren. I need an urgent trace ..."

Inside the room, Mulder continued a dialogue with the man that he 
was certain had taken Scully.

"I have her." Said Vine, his voice triumphant, depraved. "I have her 
here with me now. And, Mulder, I shall enjoy, so very much, 
inflicting the most exquisite pain upon her."

"Listen, you bastard. If you *touch* her-"

"Language, Agent Mulder." Said Vine. "I will touch her whenever 
and however I please. And there is nothing that you can do to stop 
me."

"I'll kill you!!!"

"No you won't." Said Vine. "You won't."

Mulder slammed his fist into the wall, the utter frustration 
overwhelming him and fermenting a mounting rage deep in his gut.

"... What do you want, you sick bastard?"

"Well, to be honest." Said Vine. "I only really want The One."

"The One? What are you talking-"

"DO NOT interrupt *me*!" This time it was Vine's voice that 
betrayed anger and rage, but it was cold, a strange and clinical 
rage, so controlled and directed. Definitely psychotic, Mulder 
decided, he would have to be very careful if he ever wanted to see 
Scully alive again.

"I had thought to be satisfied with just The One." Vine explained. 
"But now I find that I desire more ... suffering. You will come to 
me. You and the British agent. You will come to me. And together, 
we will explore the glorious nature of human pain. Together, we 
shall seek out the very frontiers of agony."

Mulder started to respond, but he caught himself just in time, 
stopped himself from provoking the man any further. Instead, he 
took a deep breath and said; "Alright, where then?"

"You disappoint me, Mulder. In the heart of the DawnBreak, of 
course. Where else would we be able to reach such great heights of 
suffering? Where else, other than in the heart of the most unnatural 
engine ever assembled by man? ... Where else?"

Mulder swallowed hard. Twineham Down, then, but how had he 
got there so soon? How would *they* get there?

"Are you still there, Agent Mulder?" Vine asked, after a few 
moments.

"Y-Yes. I'm still here."

"We look forward to seeing you both soon. Dana and I. Oh, she 
looks so beautiful, Agent Mulder. So white. So ready for my pain-"

"Bastard!!!!" Mulder's scream echoed around the room.

The line went dead. He slammed the receiver down, turning around 
to see Laura at the door.

"... It's a mobile." She said, waiting to see if he was alright before 
clipping the transceiver back onto her belt. "We traced it to a Racal 
Cell; number Eight Fourteen Alpha, that's about six kilometres 
North West of Twineham Down."

"Come on." Said Mulder, pushing past her. "If he's harmed her - 
then I won't be responsible for my actions."

Laura stopped him, holding on to his arm. "Nor will I, Mulder. Nor 
will I."

They looked at one another.

"I've got an RAF chopper standing by at Battersea Bridge, and a 
heavily armed military backup. This sick fuck has really picked the 
wrong people to play games with."

He would have cried, should have cried, it would have been right to 
unload some of the guilt, some of the suffering; but the worry 
consumed him totally, the worry and the need to act, to take 
revenge.

Whoever the man was, Mulder knew then that he was going to kill 
him.

It had to be that way.


* * *


The older man rested the end of the barrel of the .44 Magnum 
against the centre of Cain's forehead, and cocked the hammer on 
the massive handgun. He glanced down at the crippled man, his 
flesh blistered and red, his eyes stained with blood, and his pock-
marked scalp devoid of hair. Cain's bandaged left hand twitched 
nervously, pathetically, and the pupils of his eyes flicked from side 
to side in frantic panic.

"Who do you suppose he is, James?" The younger man asked, 
checking his hair in the mirror hanging from the far wall.

"No idea." Said the older man, as he squeezed the trigger, the 
explosive kick of the weapon sending his right hand jerking 
upwards. "No idea at all."


* * *


"I need ... instructions." Said Fabien Castello, staring at the screen 
of the communications unit. "O'Connell has refused to co-operate."

"As I knew he would." Said the man at the other end of the link, his 
breathing even worse now than it had been the last time that he'd 
spoken to him. And still, he could see nothing of his face, no 
features, no expression, no humanity.

If he was human at all.

"Then what can I do?" Castello spread his hands in desperation. 
"The One is threatened, and I cannot act to protect her here. I do 
not have the ... resources."

The man coughed several times, dragging slow and long breaths 
through his tortured respiratory system. "O'Connell is of minor 
relevance in this context." He finally said. "Even as we speak, the 
only two people who *can* preserve The One have been directed 
towards her whereabouts. They have been primed. Aimed. And 
now all that remains, is to pull the trigger."

Castello cradled his face in his hands, shaking his head frantically, 
almost at the point of tears. "I do not understand."

"Not all games are played to win." The man explained, clearing 
fluid from his throat. "Every step that the opposition takes draws 
the players closer to the positions where we require them to be. 
They threaten the life of The One. In doing so, they will cause her 
to undergo a revelation. A questioning of her faiths and beliefs; 
those things which have so far prevented her from taking her 
proper place beside us. That revelation, however painful, will bring 
The One willingly to us. So we lose. To win."

Castello looked up, and suddenly he could see the wisdom of it all, 
the truth behind the man's words. So, the grand scheme was still 
intact, it really would be as The Owners had promised it, and the 
glorious light would bathe the Earth, and the darkness would be 
banished from the face of the planet forever.


* * *


Scully watched Vine toying with the long knife between his hands, 
stroking the grey steel blade, running the tips of his fingers back 
and forth along it, drawing blood, and showing her his blooded 
fingertips.

He stepped towards her and knelt down to face her. Scully stared 
right back at him. This man was all about power, the power to 
inflict pain as and when he pleased. She knew that he received that 
power from the reaction of his victims, so she had to be strong, she 
had to show him that she was not a victim. He could not feed on 
her fear, because she would show none.

Which was difficult, because right now her heart was pumping into 
overdrive.

He smiled. No sincerity there, just an act, but a very deliberate act, 
one designed to impart more fear, more terror, more realisation of 
the obscenity that lurked deep within the man's depraved mind.

He reached out to touch the white towelling of her torn robe. Scully 
wanted to draw back, to react to the revulsion that she felt, but that 
couldn't happen, she wouldn't let it happen.

Have to stay in control of this, Dana. Have to.

He touched her exposed neck, and smeared his blood slowly down 
her skin. Dana kept completely still, staring at him defiantly. I'll 
kill you, you bastard, the first chance I get.

He uttered a tiny groan of pleasure, barely audible, before 
removing his hand and stepping back. "Frankly, Dana." He said, his 
voice less steady. "I just don't know if I'll be able to wait for your 
friends. We may have to start without them."



--- FOURTEEN ---



The Lynx helicopter came in low, dipping below fifty metres. 
Below them, the rolling grassland around the research base 
presented a carpet of pure verdant green, soft and lush, marred only 
by the sinister dark shadow of the assault helicopter, as it swept in 
from the North.

The Twineham Down complex looked exactly as when Mulder had 
seen it last, just a few days ago, in the crumpled old black & white 
photograph that Cain had shown him back in Washington.

Beside him, Laura Warren was inserting the clip into a 4.85mm IW 
close quarters assault rifle.

Mulder studied the hemispherical grey concrete structures, as they 
expanded to dominate the horizon. The huge concrete domes had 
an almost retro look, like the dodgy technology that had only ever 
existed in some of the science fiction films of the fifties, films that 
frequently centred around some secret laboratory, or military base, 
or-

"Here." Said Laura. She handed him a bulky black flak jacket. 
Emblazoned across the back were the initials 'M o D' in letters just 
big enough to make a convenient target for a sniper's bullet. 
Mulder was reminded of the Bureau's own combat gear, but, 
nonetheless, he nodded his thanks, and started pulling the garment 
on over the top of his light suit.

"Six hundred metres." The co-pilot called back to Mulder and 
Warren. "- Ma'am we've just had a transmission on SecCom."

"Give it to me." Said Warren, shouting to make herself heard above 
the wind noise.

The RAF lieutenant handed back a slip of thermal paper. It looked 
like the stuff that came out of cheap fax machines, Mulder thought, 
watching interestedly. Laura read it quickly, then she leant closer 
to Mulder and spoke towards his ear, raising her voice to be heard 
against the thrashing of the helicopter's powerful turbines.

"It's from my Control." She explained, pointing to the printout. 
"MI5 agents have just arrested a man and a young woman who 
were trying to leave this area in a stolen Transit van. It seems the 
skeleton guard here has been taken out, and it looks like they're the 
prime suspects."

Mulder spoke directly at her, shouting also. "They couldn't have 
been the ones who took Scully ... I just don't see how he got her 
down here so quickly."

She nodded. "You're right. But there's something else."

"What?"

"When Five gave the van a routine once over they found traces of 
radioactivity, and some damaged components from what seems to 
be a nuclear trigger assembly! Control have called a Critical 
Nuclear Hazard Alert - that means the whole area is being 
evacuated."

She looked at him intently. The wind that was blasting through the 
chopper was whipping her dark hair back and forth across her face. 
"Still want to go in?" She asked, after a while.

"Never wanted anything more." Mulder forced a smile, but his gut 
was tied up in a hundred knots.

By now, the Lynx was swooping around in a tight arc, coming in 
towards the front of the main Admin building. The place was 
deserted, more than a ghost town, a mausoleum, a dreadful 
testament to a scientific experiment gone horribly wrong, an 
experiment that had almost unleashed an unimaginable terror upon 
the world. An experiment that had nearly claimed Dana Scully's 
life twice before, and now, in its death throes, was threatening her 
once again.

Mulder looked to the North, where a Chinook troop carrying 
helicopter was lurching from side to side as it got caught in a 
crosswind.

When they were a quarter of a metre off the ground, Laura gripped 
his shoulder. "Go!" She shouted, pointing down through the floor 
of the chopper. Mulder threw the door open, and jumped. Laura 
followed closely, the two of them rolling to their feet and running 
at once towards the cover of the porch at the front of the main 
structure.

The Lynx hovered for a few moments more, until Laura waved her 
hands over her head. The pilot gave her the thumbs up, and swung 
the chopper away, gunning the turbines hard, so that the aircraft 
shot out low across the grassy pasture, amidst a tremendous roar. In 
just seconds, the Lynx was a black spot on the horizon, and the 
Chinook was coming in to take its place.

Laura braced the butt of the 4.85mm IW on her shoulder and 
sighted along the laser scope, scanning the windows of the high 
buildings around the Drop-In point. The Chinook descended 
rapidly, deploying rope ladders from both sides of its load bays.

Seeing that Warren was providing cover for the troops, Mulder felt 
a little inadequate with his Browning 9mm, but he drew it out 
anyway, and covered the opposite approach.

"I'm worried about this show of force." He said. "We might push 
him over the edge."

She looked across at him. "Mulder, if I can be frank, he's already 
gone over the edge ... and dropped at least a thousand metres! From 
what you've told me of the phone call, he's a total nutter. In any 
case, there's no time for negotiation. If there's really a nuke on site, 
it could be set to go off at any moment!"

"That's a comforting thought." Mulder observed.

As the squad of paratroops dropped from their ladders, bringing 
their weapons up to the ready, the Chinook pulled out, blasting 
clouds of dust and debris high into the air in its powerful wake.

The troops moved swiftly over to join Mulder and Warren. Laura 
flashed her leather-cased ID at the Commander as he approached 
her. "Laura Warren. " She said. "And this is Agent Mulder, of the 
FBI."

"John Fitzgerald, Ma'am. Sir." He saluted them both.

"We have one known hostile." She explained. "Probably armed. He 
is holding a female FBI agent hostage somewhere in here, and he is 
known to be extremely violent and dangerous. All necessary 
measures are authorised. The rules of engagement are simple: We 
go in. We get the woman out. And, in the process, we kill the 
fucker."

Mulder raised his eyebrows at the last statement, but Fitzgerald 
didn't seem to bat an eyelid. "Understood, Ma'am." He saluted 
again, then turned to his men. "OK, lads, you heard Miss Warren. 
Let's get in there and get it done. Farrell, Blakelow: you take the 
East block. Conners, Anderson: West. The rest of you men: with 
me."

As Fitzgerald led his team towards the entrance of the main Admin 
block, Warren turned back to Mulder. "Come on. The boys from 
Doomwatch will be here any minute now." She said, running on 
ahead to follow the troops.

"Doomwatch?" Mulder followed closely, holding his gun in both 
hands to his right side.

"Special scientific group responsible for technological hazard 
containment. They'll tackle the nuke."

"If there is one."

"There is." She said.

"How do you know?" Now they were passing through the old 
rotating doors. Troops had already taken up covering positions 
either side of the main reception, their guns scanning the upper 
galleries for signs of activity.

"I can smell it." Laura wrinkled her nose with distaste.

Mulder started looking around for some signs. "We need to get to 
the DawnBreak. That's where he wanted us to be."

"This way, then." She said, setting off to her left.

Fitzgerald saw them go out of the corner of his eye. "Sergeant 
Robbins. Look sharp man! Accompany those two civilians and lend 
support."

Robbins gave a quick salute, then set off after Warren and Mulder.


* * *


For the first time, Mulder laid eyes upon the gigantic assembly, 
immense and sweeping, filling his entire field of vision, dwarfing 
everything else in the huge domed chamber, it was a long tunnel 
constructed from segmented ovoids of steel, stretching back almost 
as far as the eye could see.

A Time Tunnel, he found himself thinking, a Tachyon Funnel.

The DawnBreak.

"Impressive, isn't she, Agent Mulder?" The voice came from 
behind and above him, and he *knew* that voice.

Mulder spun around, bringing his weapon to bear on the source. 
Warren and Sergeant Robbins rapidly positioned themselves either 
side of him, covering left and right.

The chamber was at least a hundred metres tall, and there were 
several galleries running around its circumference at different 
levels, all of them potential vantage points for a sniper.

Vine stood there, high up on the gallery. He held Dana Scully close 
to him, gripping her upper arms and using her as a human shield.

"Scully!" Mulder called.

She tried to struggle free of his hold, but he increased the pressure 
around her arms, his grip like a vice. "No, Dana. We die together." 
He laughed. "Did you hear that, Agent Mulder? Did you hear what 
I said?"

Mulder just looked at him, his face torn by a burning hatred and 
rage. His finger was twitching on the trigger of the Browning.

"Did you hear?" Vine called again. "I said we'd both die together!" 
He pulled Scully closer to him, forcing his lips to hers, forcing a 
kiss on her.

Warren tried to get a clear line to the target with the IW, but she 
knew she couldn't be sure she wouldn't hit Scully. She glanced 
across to Robbins, who shook his head, the same thought having 
obviously occurred to him.

"Aaah!" Vine sucked in the air, pulling his lips away from her. "I 
can understand why you respect your partner so much, Mulder. She 
is truly delicious!"

Frantically, Mulder looked around him, searching for the steps that 
led up to the gallery. He saw the doorway over to his left and shot a 
glance back at Laura. She nodded in acknowledgement. "Go!"

Mulder lunged forward, rolling beneath the cover of the gallery and 
racing for the door.

Vine leant forwards, still keeping Scully between him and the 
others. "That's right, Mulder. Come up and see me some time! 
Come up and see *us*. See us making love, Mulder. You'd like 
that, wouldn't you?"

"I've had just about enough of this guy ..." Said Laura, again trying 
to find the shot.

At almost exactly the same moment, Scully said something very 
similar, and somehow she managed to twist her left arm 
momentarily free of him. That was when she pulled her body back, 
bent her left knee and smashed it up as hard as she could, straight 
into Vine's genitals.

The man screamed out, letting go of her for just a brief second. It 
was all the time that she needed. Gathering all of her strength, she 
clenched her right hand into a half-fist, the knuckles bent to present 
a flat profile, and drew it back beneath her elbow, pulling in a deep 
breath as she did so.

"Bastard!" She shouted, as she brought her fist forward and 
slammed it into his belly with all the force she could muster. Vine 
doubled up in agony.

"You wanted to explore pain!" Scully screamed. "Explore this!" 
She lashed out with her right foot, spinning her body around to give 
the blow extra force, and sending her heel crashing into his nose. 
She heard bone crack, saw blood spurting from around his mouth, 
and felt something give, as sharp cartilage was driven up through 
the man's nasal cavity and straight into his forebrain.

Vine staggered backwards, already dying, his body falling against 
the railings. For a moment he teetered there, on the edge, like a 
puppet whose strings had been cut.

Mulder arrived on the balcony just as Vine's corpse plummeted the 
thirty metres down to ground level, landing with a sickening thud.

Down below, Warren and Robbins approached the body, where it 
was now lying, sprawled out in a rapidly expanding pool of blood.

"So, was it good for you?" Laura asked the corpse.

Up on the gallery, Scully shook her hair, and pulled the robe tightly 
around her.

"Hi." Said Mulder, cautiously walking up to her.

"Mulder, it comes to something when a girl can't even take a bath 
in peace." Said Scully. "... And I thought England was supposed to 
be a civilised place."

"Come on." He put his arm around her shoulder, and they started to 
make their way back down to ground level.

"And before you ask." She said, quietly. "I'm alright. He didn't get 
around to ... that. He was too busy talking."

"Yeah, I know the problem." Said Mulder.


* * *


Robbins called Laura across. "Ma'am. I really think you should see 
this."

"What is it, Sergeant." Laura slung her weapon over her shoulder, 
and walked across to the large steel container that Robbins had 
been studying. She glanced at the apparatus inside. "Oh, fuck."


02:59
  02:58
    02:57



--- FIFTEEN ---



"Now would be a good time for some of that lateral thinking, 
Mulder." Said Scully, peering into the cabinet at the digital display 
within.

"You don't suppose my Diners Club Gold Card would work in there 
do you?" He pointed over her shoulder, at the card reader slot that 
was mounted to one side of the bomb's intricate electronic timing 
mechanism.

"Actually, I was hoping for something a little more practical than 
that." Scully admitted.


01:45
  01:44
    01:43


"Sergeant Robbins?" Laura turned to the officer.

He shook his head, grimly.

"Well, we can't just stand around here!" Said Mulder, and he 
started to reach inside the steel box, his fingers slipping around the 
loom of coloured wires.

"Mulder, wait. What are you doing?" Scully looked on in horror.

"When my video goes screwy, I pull out the plug ... Interrupting 
the power resets the microprocessor." He said, working more of the 
coloured cables out of their retaining straps, and pulling them away 
from the circuit board assembly.

Scully was incredulous. "This is an atomic bomb, Mulder. Have 
you lost your mind?"

"No, but give it about, oh, another one minute five ..."

He smiled, and started pulling on the cables.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Sir." The man was dressed in a 
white PVC radiological protection suit, and he was carrying a 
plastic tool roll under his arm. He marched smartly across the 
chamber, and stepped in front of Mulder. "Best leave this to the 
experts. It's usually for the better."

The cheerful man took one look at the device, announced that it 
was a Seven Sixty 'A' (old type), unwrapped his tool roll, and took 
out a pair of wire cutters. Mulder stepped back. Scully, Warren, 
and Robbins looked on, as the countdown to their very own private 
nuclear explosion continued.


Snip. Red.
00:35


  Snip. Yellow.
  00:34


    Snip. Blue.
    00:33


      Snip. Black.
      00:32
      00:32
      00:32

00:32


"There you go, Sir." Said the man, putting away the wire cutters. 
"Never quite as hard as it looks, is it?"

Mulder stood there with his mouth wide open, while the other three 
found that they were able to breathe once more.

"'Course the thing is, if you cut them in the wrong sequence." He 
started nodding his head solemnly. "Kaboom."

"Kaboom?" Said Mulder, cautiously.

"Yes, Sir. Kaboom."


* * *


"Your failure has been nothing short of monumental." Said The 
Executive, slowly. Each word had to be forced from his throat, as 
he fought to drag the air into his damaged lungs.

"This was *not* my fault." Trent argued, feeling increasingly 
uncomfortable sitting in the passenger seat of the black Ford 
Scorpio. "Five must have been alerted. There *must* have been a 
leak."

Behind him, the other man lit up a cigarette, his face visible for just 
a moment in the flare of light. Thick smoke drifted towards Trent.

"Your operatives were grossly incompetent." Said the man, 
between puffs on his cigarette.

"Cain *has* been removed." Trent said, as if in mitigation.

"But one element only has been erased." The Executive wheezed, 
waving away the smoke from the other man's cigarette with his 
hand. "The base remains intact."

"But I didn't know about Vine-"

"The responsibility is yours, and yours alone." The man behind him 
reached forward, and placed his right hand on Trent's shoulder. 
Trent looked first at the Cigarette Smoking Man, then back at The 
Executive.

"Yes." Said Trent, finally.

"Goodbye, Mr. Trent." In the back, the man spread his arms out 
beside him and leant his head back, blowing cigarette smoke 
upwards, where it gathered into a cloud, hovering just below the 
velour roof lining of the luxury car.

After Trent had gone, the Cigarette Smoking Man spoke again. 
"The situation is not irrecoverable."

"No, Sir."

"Mulder still knows nothing, and we are in a position to neutralise 
the remaining sources."

The Executive coughed again, as cigarette smoke came billowing 
in his direction. "That is true."

"Then arrange it."

He heard the rear door slam, looked around, and saw that the man 
was gone. Then he allowed himself a long, self-satisfied, smile.

"Anything you say." He said, after a while. "Just so long as it 
remains consistent with *our* plan."

In the shadows, Assistant Director Walter Skinner turned and 
started to make his way back up to street level.


* * *


"You two are really going to love this place." Said Laura, 
enthusiastically. She pushed through the heavy swing doors and 
stepped out into the balmy heat of a London summer evening. 
What was left of the sun was rapidly dropping below the horizon, 
the sounds of the traffic had faded, and an almost pleasant breeze 
was drifting in off the Thames.

Outside the hotel, Laura called for a cab.

"Say, Laura, what's this?" Mulder asked, examining the tall blue 
box with interest.

Laura looked around, and she found herself puzzled for a moment, 
absolutely certain that she hadn't seen the old Police Box there 
earlier. "Well, it's a Police Box." She explained, walking around it. 
"Damned if I know what it's doing here, though. They were 
obsolete thirty years ago."

"Can I get one for when I go camping?" Mulder asked, as they 
climbed into the waiting taxi.

"I didn't know you went camping, Mulder." Said Scully, as he got 
in beside her.

"And I didn't know you were an akido expert, Scully." He 
responded.

"The Ten Thirteen club, please." Laura said to the driver.

"No problem, luv. We'll be there in a jiffy." He slipped the clutch, 
and the tatty black cab lurched forwards, narrowly missing a 
potentially controversial impact with a BT van.

"By eight thirty will be fine." Said Laura, looking back at the 
driver of the BT van, who was making a rude gesture with his 
fingers.


* * *


: Owner Vessel HA4101
: Synchronous High Earth Orbit
: Altitude 9300km; Mode=Cloaked


Cautiously, The Executive stepped into the arena. Around him, in 
the circular amphitheatre, almost sixty metres across, The Owners 
were gathering.

He sat down in the single chair that had been prepared for him, and 
crossed his legs. In the vessel, at least, he could breathe. In the 
vessel, away from the filthy pollution of the Earth's industrialised 
atmosphere, he could live; Live as the other Owners lived.

The Triumvirate were the last to arrive in the chamber; Leader, 
Advisor Positive, and Advisor Negative. The three Owners settled 
into their tall-backed chairs, their grey skin glistening beneath the 
ultra-violet lighting, their wide, lidless, eyes black as coal. They 
stared down at The Executive.

Concentrating intensely, he began to shift the molecular makeup of 
his body, shunting genes, swapping protein strands, manipulating 
muscles and internal organs; altering his body chemistry to adjust 
to the changes in his physical structure, and shifting from Homo 
Sapien back to his natural, his proper, state.

Finally, he was grey like them. Grey and completely non-human.

Leader spoke first, and the others listened, it was what protocol 
required.

"How goes the game?" Leader asked.

"The game goes well." The Executive replied. "All of the 
components are now in place for the second phase."

"And you believe that we will be welcomed. Welcomed amongst 
them?"

"I do."

Leader turned to Advisor Negative, and unfolded his seven 
fingered hand. "Against?"

"There are many complexities in this scenario. Although we now 
have commitment from the major power blocs on the planet, there 
are a number of rogue elements that it remains difficult to predict. I 
council caution."

Leader then turned to Advisor Positive, unfolding his right hand. 
"For?"

"The people of this world are ready. For centuries they have looked 
to the stars. They have asked themselves whether they are alone in 
the universe. And, as their Millenium approaches, they are 
increasingly ready to accept extreme possibilities."

Leader turned to face The Executive again. "We begin the second 
phase."

"Understood." Said The Executive.


* * *


James O'Connell, Director General, Office for the Security of 
Scientific and Biological Research, stepped outside Riverwalk 
House, and slowly took in a lungful of the rapidly cooling evening 
air.

Skinner stepped across and faced him at the top of steps.

"Skinner." Said O'Connell, acknowledging the presence of the 
other man.

"It's Trent." Said Skinner. "Trent is your mole."

O'Connell nodded slowly, then he reached inside his pocket for the 
mobile phone, and dialled. The person at the other end answered 
almost immediately. "Trent." Said O'Connell. "Extreme measures 
are authorised." Finally, he broke the connection.

"Thank you, Skinner."

O'Connell started to walk away from him, but Skinner caught him 
by the arm and swung him around. "Wait a minute. I have two 
agents in the field out here."

"They still enjoy the protection of this Office." Said O'Connell, 
breaking free of the other man's grip with relative ease.

As O'Connell stepped down to the waiting car, Skinner shouted 
after him angrily. "When does this end, Mr. O'Connell?"

The other man paused, and turned around, a look of mock 
amazement on his face. "When we say it does."


* * *


The Executive looked down at Fabien Castello and, for the first 
time, the Earth Liaison Officer knew the true identity of the man 
who had been providing him with his instructions. The man who, 
all those years ago, had first approached him, nurtured him, 
revealed to him the secrets of the powerful non-terrestrials, and 
finally taken him aboard this incredible vessel.

The man who had bought him.

The grey face of the Owner looked strangely out of place there on 
the video screen, improper, somehow. He had become so used to 
seeing the sinister shadowed countenance of the asthmatic there, 
that perhaps it should have been more of a revelation, but, 
somehow, he had known, he had always known.

"You reveal yourself to me." Said Castello, sensing that a 
monumental event was in preparation. "You reveal yourself to me, 
and I am humble before you."

"Your reverence is appreciated." Said The Executive. "But it is not 
necessary. The final stages of the plan are, even now, falling into 
place. The Owners are preparing to proceed to Phase Two."

"What is it that you wish of me?" Castello asked, his heart racing 
with anticipation.

"The One will be brought again to the base. This time, they are 
seeking their answers. Their, so very important, truths. This 
obsession that they have ... their need to 'know'. It is what makes 
the execution of our plans so much easier."

"Do you believe that she will join us this time."

"She is beginning to suspect the truth of it all." Said The Executive, 
carefully choosing his words. "Yet she is not so susceptible to this 
kind of manipulation as the other."

"Mulder?"

"He *wants* to believe so badly that he opens himself to us. Lays 
himself open to our influence. But she is stronger. A sceptic. Her 
beliefs are founded in her science. It is that which we must 
challenge, if she is to finally ascend to become the true One."

"Sir, may I ask what contribution this person will be able to bring 
to such a grand scheme?"

The Executive regarded Castello with wide black eyes. "It is not 
the person, Castello. It is what she will represent to the citizens of 
this world. She will be their beacon. The one that the whole of 
humanity looks to for guidance. And that guidance will be the 
guidance of The Owners.

"The guidance of the very first Human/Owner hybrid."

Castello looked on in disbelief. "A hybrid. Between human and 
Owner? How is that possible?"

"You doubt the abilities of The Owners, Castello?" The Executive's 
voice became cold and threatening. Castello took a sudden step 
backwards, away from the communications console.

"No, I-"

"Leader himself will come to the DawnBreak complex to see that it 
is so. You will assist him. And, when she has accepted the gift of 
The Owners, her transformation will be completed. There in the 
DawnBreak ... the true purpose of which is now finally revealed to 
you.

"There she will be bathed once again in the Strange Forces, this 
time a thousand times stronger, her body exposed to the meta-
transmutic fluxes that will warp her genetic structure irrevocably.

"Where she will truly, and finally, become The One!"


* * *


The music was melodic alright but, Scully had to admit, it was 
more than a little creepy. A catchy little piece by Mark Snow. The 
theme to an American TV series which had been proving extremely 
popular in Europe. Not that she ever watched that kind of thing 
herself. She didn't mind science fiction, but she preferred 
something a little lighter, like that book Mulder had found for her a 
few weeks back, when they'd gone shopping for her mom's 
birthday present.

Mulder was listening intently to Laura Warren. Well, she is an 
attractive woman, Scully thought, but does the subject always have 
to get around to conspiracies, alien abductions, and a fight to save 
the future?

Her salad arrived, delivered by a tall Italian waiter who was very 
definitely giving her more attention than the standard level of 
British customer service demanded. And Mulder wasn't even 
looking.

She picked up a piece of French bread, and looked out across the 
River Thames, where the lights from the office blocks were 
reflected back in a shimmering wash of colour.

"Over the last two years." Laura was saying. "An increasing 
number of agents have been transferred to a new department that 
the MoD are setting up. Some of our best people have gone. I was 
offered the chance myself."

Mulder chewed thoughtfully on a stick of celery. "Yeah? Well, if 
they offered you a job, then they must at least have explained what 
it involved?"

She nodded. "A new international intelligence organisation, 
reporting directly to the Secretary General of the United Nations. 
All major power blocs are participating. Even the Chinese."

"OK, but it doesn't sound all *that* strange. Haven't you heard, 
we're all supposed to be one big happy world now."

"Right." She drank some more red wine, then, as if she'd just 
remembered something, she turned to Scully. "Dana, I'm sorry, I'm 
being very rude."

"No, that's OK." Scully shook her head. "Laura, this is a nice place. 
Thanks for inviting me." She sighed. "But, frankly, I'm a little 
tired."

"I get the impression that you don't like England very much." Said 
Laura.

"Oh, it's not that." Dana shook her head. "I suppose I thought that 
we'd get a little peace and quiet over here, just for a change. Life 
with Mulder around isn't exactly uneventful."

Mulder frowned, but said nothing, after all, it was true, the last five 
years had been hectic, but then he wouldn't have wanted it any 
other way.

"I can imagine." Said Laura.

I bet you can, Scully thought.

Dana sighed, exhaustedly. "It's just that since I've been here, I've 
very nearly been garrotted by a raving psychopath; I've been 
abducted from my hotel room in broad daylight; And, just to round 
it off, I got to see a ticking H bomb, up close and personal!"

But at least I'm still smiling, she thought.

"I guess there's only so much enjoyment you can fit into one 
holiday." Mulder observed.

"There is one question, though." Laura said, swilling her wine 
around in the bottom of her glass. "... Mulder and I were wondering 
just how Vine got you to Twineham Down so quickly."

Scully looked at them both, and shook her head. "All I know is that 
Vine broke into my room, started his ranting and raving, and 
produced some kind of electronic instrument."

"Instrument?" Mulder's ears pricked up.

"A small black box." Dana continued. "It had a keypad on the top, 
and some kind of display screen, I think. The next thing I 
remember, we were there, in the DawnBreak chamber. I guess I 
must have blacked out."

Mulder looked at Laura. They both looked back to Scully, who was 
breaking another piece of French bread. "What?"

"Scully. What do you know about teleportation?" Asked Mulder, 
raising his glass.

Out of the corner of her eye, Laura saw the man approaching. 
Something in her reaction alerted the two FBI agents, and they both 
looked in his direction as well. He was of medium build, stocky, 
with light grey hair. Security, thought Laura, Five or some other 
group, and there were two others, trying hopelessly to blend into 
the background, near the bar. Definitely Five, then.

The man reached their table and flashed his ID. "Agents Mulder 
and Scully?"

They both nodded in cautious acknowledgement.

"Security Service. I'm afraid that I have orders to detain you under 
the Emergency Powers Anti-Terrorism act. Would you both come 
with me, please."



--- SIXTEEN ---



In the small interview room, Mulder paced back and forth 
anxiously in front of the barred window. Scully sat staring down 
into the cold coffee that was congealing slowly at the bottom of the 
plastic cup in front of her.

"Scully. Will you tell me something?" He asked, finally sitting 
down in front of her.

"What do you want to know?"

"Back in Kansas, at the Manners Ranch. What happened. What 
*really* happened?"

"Mulder, I don't know if I'm sure myself what happened." She said, 
knowing that it was only half true.

"I'm sure that no ordinary explosion destroyed that barn."

"OK." Scully laid out her hands flat in front of her, palms down. 
"Here it comes; I was taken to an alien spaceship nine thousand 
kilometres above the Earth. There I met a very nice man, in a smart 
black suit, who told me that I could save the world!"

Mulder just looked at her, his mouth half open. "Scully, you're 
kidding me."

She stared back.

"You're not kidding me."

Scully shook her head.

"But that's -"

"- Extremely interesting, Agent Scully." Said Walter Skinner, as he 
came through the door.

"Sir, what are you doing here?" She asked.

"Saving your arses." He replied, coming to sit down with them. "I 
called in a few favours to get MI5 to pick you up. It was the only 
way I could be sure that you'd both get here alive."

"What?"

"There are some very powerful people out there that want you two 
out of the picture. Period." Skinner turned to Mulder. "Agent 
Mulder, what exactly did you find at the Twineham Down 
complex?"

"You mean besides a raving psychopath who wanted to cut Agent 
Scully up into little pieces, a 1.5 kiloton tactical nuclear device, 
and a Time Machine?" Mulder asked.

Skinner nodded, ignoring the bitter irony, and playing it dead 
straight. As usual. "There's something else. There has to be."

"Oh?"

"I don't know what. The DawnBreak apparatus was important, but 
it wasn't the reason that they wanted the base destroyed."

"*They*, Sir?" Scully interrupted them.

"A covert organisation." Said Skinner, impatiently. "A cabal of 
former intelligence community operatives representing most of the 
major powers - including the US and the EU."

"Are you part of that community, Sir?"

"No, Agent Scully, I am not."

"Then how do you -"

"Let's just say that I came by the information through unofficial 
channels."

Mulder sneered at that, remembering the number of times that 
Skinner had criticised him for the sources of some of his own 
information.

"These are very powerful people, Mulder. There's a much larger 
canvas being painted behind all of this than any of us could 
imagine."

It seemed strange hearing Skinner talk in those terms, in terms that 
Mulder could relate to, because they echoed the beliefs that had 
sustained him for much of his adult life.

"Then we should go back to Twineham Down." Said Scully, 
surprisingly.

They both looked at her.

"If that's where the answers are, then we should go back there." She 
stated, insistently.

"What about the British?" Mulder asked.

"I have some support but, frankly, I can't be sure who is who. Did 
you know that Cain wasn't dead?"

"Sir?"

"They found a survivor in the base. It was Cain. They took him to a 
military hospital where they found that he was suffering from 
radiation poisoning. Also, his DNA had been altered in some way."

There was a knock at the door, and Laura Warren entered 
conspiratorially, checking behind her before closing it again.

"I've just been telling them about Cain." Said Skinner, looking up 
at the new arrival.

"What, you knew?" Mulder stared Laura hard in the face.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I-"

"I asked her not to tell you." Said Skinner, cutting off her sentence. 
"I knew you'd go rushing out there to find him, and it was the base 
that was the important thing."

"Sir, I'm beginning to see you in a different light." Said Mulder, 
finally. "I didn't realise you were such a scheming, devious, 
bastard."

"Frankly, Agent Mulder, from you, I consider that a compliment."


* * *


The tunnel stretched away before them, ring after ring of pressed 
steel ovals, each mounted within a framework of steel girders. In 
front of the Tachyon Funnel, Mulder, Scully, Warren, and Assistant 
Director Skinner stood staring into the abyss. The massive 
apparatus was quiescent now, silent and cold. Who knew what 
secrets it had to tell them, what terrible events it had witnessed.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" Scully asked Skinner. She 
felt uncomfortable being back in the place again. There was 
something about it, something that it shared with the Manners 
Ranch, cold and foreboding.

"Well I-"

>From within the oval steel tunnel, a black-suited man slipped into 
the light. A well groomed, smartly dressed, man; Fabien Castello, 
Earth Liaison to The Owners.

"I think that would probably be me." He said.

"Castello." Said Scully.

"Hello, Dana. I am glad that you came."

"That's the man from Riverwalk House." Laura observed. Mulder 
nodded, looking to Scully, then to Castello, then back again.

"Are you ready to join us now, Dana." Castello asked, hopefully. 
"Are you ready to assume your position as The One?"

She took a hesitant step forward. "No. I can't do that."

A look of bitter disappointment came over the poor man's face, as 
if his every dream had just been snatched from him, every hope 
crushed, every reason for living taken away. "But, why?"

"Because ... I need to understand."

His face lit up suddenly. "If it is enlightenment that you seek, 
Dana, then together we can find it. Here. Here in the heart of the 
DawnBreak."

Mulder felt uneasy at that last statement, it was too close to some 
of the stuff that Vine had been coming out with, too close to the 
man's insane wish to engage in an orgy of sadism and suffering in 
the shadow of the massive Time-Slicing engine.

"You say that I'm The One." Dana continued, keeping her distance. 
"You say that I have the power to change humanity."

"I do."

"What is this power?"

"Dana, do you truly not know?"

Mulder stepped to her side. "Scully. Be careful."

"It's alright, Mulder." She shook her head. "Castello. Show me 
what this power is."

"I do not have to show you." Castello stepped closer, reaching out 
his hand to her. "You can show yourself."

"I don't -"

Castello touched the fingers of his right hand gently to her 
forehead.

Mulder drew his gun, but Warren held him back. "Wait." She said.

"In your mind, Dana." said Castello. "See *in* your mind. See this 
apparatus. See the DawnBreak."

Scully closed her eyes, and felt the warmth flow into her body; No, 
not into, it was there already; around. The energy was flowing 
around her, from within, and it was so ... beautiful, so strong.

So frightening.

>From around the Tachyon Funnel, a low pitched hum began rising 
in magnitude, and the tunnel itself seemed to shimmer as if caught 
in a heat haze.

"When first The Trinity touched you." Said Castello, still holding 
his fingertips to her brow. "It was weak. It had been trapped for an 
eternity, its energies sapped, its existence almost at an end. When 
this apparatus was activated for the very first time, and the 
Tachyon pulse spread out across time and space, it temporarily 
ruptured the vacuum that had imprisoned it. There was a warping 
of reality, a crossover of Strange Forces from one plane to 
another."

"What the hell is he talking about?" Skinner turned to Mulder. The 
sound of the Tachyon Funnel was starting to deafen them, as it 
glowed ever brighter, flooding the huge chamber with soft white 
light.

"Beats me." Said Mulder. "But it'd sure make a good story for the 
next Twilight Zone."

"Forces such as those warp genetic structures." Castello continued. 
"They can change the nature of DNA, alter the physiological 
makeup of living forms, and give them abilities that they did not 
previously possess."

And then Dana remembered how Vine had got her to Twineham 
Down so quickly, how he had touched the strange instrument to her 
forehead and used it to force her own latent paranormal abilities to 
do the job. She had, quite literally, "transported" them both, folded 
the space around them, and then joined it to the space where Vine 
had wanted them to be.

Except that was scientifically impossible.

And how could she ever believe something that went against 
everything that she knew to be true?

The answer came straight back at her: She could believe, because 
now she knew that those fundamental truths had been redefined for 
her.

Something is only unexplained, she had once said, when it goes 
against what we believe nature to be.

In that instant she realised that if her understanding of the nature of 
the universe could change, then what was previously inexplicable 
became merely another confirmation of the scientific foundation of 
her beliefs.

Dana now realised, with horror, that all of the time she could have 
killed Vine with just a single thought, if she had just known how to 
control it, known how to *make* it happen. Did she, in fact, do that 
in the end? Was it a telekinetic event that had caused Vine to lose 
his concentration at that last fatal moment?

She cried out. "I - don't - want - this - power!"

The whipcrack of energy sent Castello flying backwards, crashing 
into the wall of the tunnel, stunned. "D-Dana you cannot reject the 
gift of The Owners."

"I reject it!" She shouted. "Do you hear me. I reject your gift!"

The entire chamber was awash with rainbow coloured light, 
electrostatic energies flashed back and forth between the concentric 
rings of the tunnel assembly.

Mulder, Skinner, and Warren all had their weapons drawn and 
ready, but it was Mulder who pulled Scully away from the Tachyon 
Funnel just as the power surge flashed through it, a blinding pulse 
of blue-white light, followed by what seemed like a sudden inrush 
of freezing cold air, that sent them flying backwards, crashing into 
the console equipment.

"Mulder!" Laura shouted. "Look!"

The creature stepped carefully out of the DawnBreak, its grey flesh 
glistening beneath the harsh chamber lighting. It raised both of its 
elongated arms, extending seven fingers from each of its hands.

"Oh, my God." He looked on in disbelief. "It's ... true." He looked 
back to Scully, Skinner, and Laura Warren, who were all staring at 
the alien. "All this time ... and it's TRUE!"

Leader looked around the DawnBreak chamber. Now that the 
energy surge was subsiding, the room was becoming quiet again. 
Behind him, Fabien Castello staggered to his feet.

"Dana Scully." Said the Owner.

Scully looked up at him, doing some calculations in her head about 
his physical makeup, about his possible origins, about the structure 
of his obviously non-human DNA.

About redefining her scientific frame of reference once more.

"You reject the gift of The Owners?"

She swallowed hard. "I do."

"We offer you such power as humanity has sought since first it 
dragged itself upright out of the primeval swamps, and you reject 
it?" He tilted his head, regarding her with his coal-black and 
completely lidless eyes.

"I don't want power." She said. "I just want to lead a normal 
*human* life."

Leader considered her words. "It appears that we may have made a 
serious misjudgement." He said, after several seconds. "The time 
may not be now. The plan must be reappraised. It may be many 
centuries before we can resume."

Castello listened to the Owner's words with horror.

"What? No, wait. What are you saying?" Fabien Castello's life was 
collapsing around him, his reality was fragmenting, dissipating into 
the ether, his existence was becoming, quite simply, non-essential.

Leader looked straight at him. "Execution of the plan must be 
suspended. It is my decision."

"But look at all that we've achieved." He protested. "For centuries, 
our organisation has grown and prospered. Time and again we have 
faced the darkness, and triumphed. You promised that this time 
would be the last. That we would see the light."

"A promise is only of value so long as both parties are able to abide 
by it." Said Leader. "That situation has changed."

The alien's words were almost like a physical blow to Castello, and 
he took another step backwards, almost stumbling.

"Please." Said Mulder, interrupting the exchange, his face full of 
wonderment. "Please. For years, I have wanted to understand. 
Please. Tell me who you are."

Leader angled his head slightly, bringing his eyes to bear on the 
FBI agent.

"Perhaps there is one gift that we can impart." Leader said quietly. 
"If it is the gift of knowledge that you seek?"

"I seek truth." Said Mulder.

Leader tilted his head again, as if assessing Mulder in some way, to 
determine whether he was worthy to receive that which he had 
sought for so long.

"Only truth ..." Mulder repeated, his voice trailing off, as the alien's 
dark eyes began to pierce into him, like two black holes, windows 
upon nothingness, and yet there was intelligence there, a vast all-
comprehending intelligence, and knowledge that Mulder knew 
spanned the universe.

"For millions of years we have been here on your world - in one 
form or another. Since the dawn of your planet's history, The 
Owners have waited." Leader folded and unfolded his large hands 
again, his spiny fingers clicking as they extended. "Understand that 
this planet is just one small part of a grand design that encompasses 
unimaginable numbers of worlds. One small, but vital, part. It was 
essential that the Earth develop in this way. Essential to our plans."

"But are you saying that you have controlled our evolution?" 
Mulder came to within half a metre of the alien. He studied it in 
awe.

"It would be more proper to say that we have guided your 
development. Shaped it. Given it the occasional push in the right 
direction. Our greatest difficulty was in preventing you from 
destroying yourselves before we were ready. The human race has 
always possessed such great capacity for self-destruction.

"Witness the great wars of the last hundred years. And the savage 
conflicts of just the last twenty.

"In order to control war, to prevent it from becoming an 
uncontrollable tide of destruction that would wipe the planet clean 
of all life, it was essential for us to influence the plotters. The 
schemers. Those who would identify the need for war, and control 
and direct its execution.

"In short, your political, military, and defence structures."

"Infiltrating us, then. Manipulating us. Playing us off one against 
the other." Said Laura Warren, the light dawning on her. "Forcing 
us down your predetermined path all along."

Leader turned his attention to the British agent. "You would not 
have survived otherwise." He said, without a trace of emotion.

"But you could have made yourselves known to us." Laura stepped 
closer. "Why all of this deception? All of this ... time? ... and what 
is this great plan of yours?"

"The plan is unknowable." The Owner replied. "You are not ready. 
Perhaps now, you never will be. Be aware that we reveal this much 
to you now, because it suits us to do so. This much and no more."

"Do you control The Consortium?" Mulder asked, thinking about 
Samantha. "Are they a part of your master plan?"

"Everything is in the plan. Everything. The Consortium is but one 
body amongst many." Said Leader. "And, whilst it has immediate 
relevance to your situation, it is not of paramount importance in the 
Grand Scheme."

The alien turned away from Mulder, and started walking back 
down the Tachyon Funnel, already the electromagnetic hum was 
rising in pitch again, electricity crackling between the rings.

"Wait." Mulder called after him. "Don't go. Not yet. There's so 
much more - My sister ... wait!" Despite the violent energy surging 
through the DawnBreak, he started to run after Leader. "Wait!"

Scully grabbed hold of him, and pulled him back.

"Don't, Mulder." She shouted to make herself heard above the din. 
"You won't survive in there."

Already the tunnel was awash with ball lightning, massive surges 
of energy that thrashed back and forth around the circumference of 
the assembly. Leader was gone, adrift amongst the seething 
whirlpool of preternatural energies, and somewhere in there, 
Fabien Castello's body crackled and burned, as it slowly turned to 
ashes.

Scully looked up at Mulder. Tears were running down his cheeks. 
"Scully." He sobbed. "After everything. To know *this*. Have you 
any idea what that means to me?"

She gently wiped away one of his tears with her thumb, and 
reached up to give him a very light kiss on the cheek. "I'm so very 
happy for you, Mulder."

Laura came across and tapped them both on the shoulder. "We 
should go." She said, indicating the power surging and rising within 
the DawnBreak. "I'm no engineer, but that thing doesn't look very 
safe to me."

Reluctantly, Mulder followed Skinner, Scully, and Warren out of 
the chamber. At the door he took one last look back towards the 
Tachyon Funnel, now starting to collapse in upon itself as metal 
fused and melted under the onslaught of energies not seen since the 
dawn of the cosmos.


* * *


Outside the complex, the Lynx helicopter was on standby, its 
turbines idling at one twentieth thrust.

Once aboard, Laura tapped the pilot on the shoulder. "Home, 
James." She shouted. "And don't spare the gas!"

The Lynx swept through a one eighty degree arc, gaining height as 
it pulled away from the complex and rose up into the darkness. At 
two kilometres, the flare lit up the night sky, and bathed the 
surrounding villages in a light brighter than day.

A light so very much brighter than any other dawn break in human 
history.

"Agent Mulder. What the hell did we just see?" Skinner asked, his 
voice unsteady, uncertain, shocked.

Scully looked across to Mulder, who was looking down at his 
outstretched palms.

"How do you feel?" She asked him.

He took her hand gently in his.

"Dana. I feel ... complete."


- END -


DISCLAIMER: The X Files, Mulder and Scully are the intellectual
property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox
Television. All other copyrights are acknowledged. This is Fan
Fiction and has not been produced to profit from the copyright
owners, nor to deprive them of revenue, no copyright or
trademark infringement is intended. This is a work of fiction,
any resemblance to any persons living or dead is entirely
unintentional. It may be archived provided that this disclaimer
is  included, the author is clearly identified, and the story
is not altered in any way. It may not be distributed for profit.