From: Jill Starbuck Date: Wed, 19 May 1999 02:11:42 -0700 (PDT) Subject: Story submission........ TITLE: Iron Horse AUTHOR: Jill Starbuck E-MAIL: CLASS: Case File, UST RATING: PG-13, mainly because of violence, and language. SPOILERS: This is set after the movie, and after the reinstatement of M & S on the X-Files. ARCHIVE: Anywhere, just ask, and keep my name attached. SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully are called out to an airbase after a mysterious crash is reported. Was it pilot error, or is something more sinister afoot? DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, yadda, yadda, yadda are the property of 1013 Productions, Fox Broadcasting and the talented actors who portray them. No money was made, no permission obtained, no infringement intended. Happy, Fox? This piece of fan fic is for enjoyment only, so don't go usin' it for commercial gain. Authors notes at the end I've abandoned my shipper flavour this time, and gone for a case file. But, there will be a bit of UST thrown in for good measure. Here goes nothing..... XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 1/16 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE, NEBRASKA TUESDAY, 1743 military time. The vast Nebraska sky was streaked rose pink and honey yellow, the sunset promising a fine day tomorrow. Nicholas Gainsfield jogged up the metal stairs, the thick soles on his military-issue boots making a dull ringing sound. The thick concrete walls around him were painted white, but it had faded to a dank, almost stale colour. The metal staircase leading him to the Collins Base tower shook slightly as he hustled, his log book and camouflage jacket clutched in his hand. Josh was going to have his ass if he was late again, because he couldn't leave until the next man was on shift. Nicholas rounded the last bend in the stairs, coming face to face with a thick, green painted metal door labeled 'Tower'. He gripped the cool handle and pushed down, pulling the door open. He could almost hear Josh's sigh of relief. "Jesus, Nick where have you been?" Josh exclaimed as he crossed the room and sat himself in a scuffed, government-issue chair. A second later, he threw his jacket onto an abandoned seat next to him, and turned to face a very pissed Josh Newhart. He held a sports bag in his hand, his tirade only just begun. "You know I have a date with Annie tonight! You know how cranky she gets when I break a promise! You...." "Geez man, chill, would you?" Nick said, swinging slightly in the chair. He popped the top off the other item he was carrying - a can of Coca Cola - and propped his booted feet on a cabinet. "Annie will forgive you. If she doesn't, you better consider getting yourself a woman who understands a man's needs." He took a mouthful of the carbonated drink, the cold bubbles fizzing on his tongue. Josh shifted his weight and chuckled. "That, Nicky old boy, is the precise reason why you don't have a woman." He turned to go. "I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early." Nick groaned. "Don't remind me," he replied. He paused. "And anyway, I don't need a woman! I'm my own man, aren't I? No chick nagging me to appreciate her more!" Josh eyed him nastily from the door. "That's right Nick, you and your...." The rest of the conversation was lost as he rounded the corner and shut the door, Nick's carefully aimed Coke can missing him by inches. Nicholas sighed and turned back to the control board before him. He listened to the soft crackle of various radio conversations between pilots approaching the base. The sky was rapidly fading into night, the stars beginning to twinkle against the inky, liquid blackness. The Nebraska sky had always fascinated Nick. He had owned a telescope as a kid, a present from his father, a man he saw very little of. The gift had just been another way of saying "Sorry I missed your birthday, son,". He would then give Nick's mom a chaste, perfunctory kiss, before leaving in the fancy, expensive cars Uncle Sam provided for those in his position, to drive out to the secret bases and testing grounds that were too classified to share at the dinner table. Nick shook himself out of his reverie, silently cursing himself. Below him, one of the brand new aircrafts that designers had been working on for months was gently being driven out of a hanger. Men wearing reflective vests and carrying lights were ushering the craft onto the smooth blacktop runway. The radio next to Nick crackled to life. "Tower 1, this is Alpha Bravo 125 requesting permission to land." Nick studied the green flatscreen grid before him. Runways 2, 5 and 7 were in use, but runway 4 was clear. He picked up the headset and adjusted it so the mike was in front of his mouth. "Alpha Bravo 125, you are clear to land on runway 4, repeat runway 4." "Roger Tower 1." At that moment, the radio gave a loud screech of static. Nick jumped and ripped the headset off his head. His ears rang from the sound. He exhaled loudly, eyeing the headset suspiciously. That was when he noticed the dials in front of him. The needles on some of the more outdated meters were spinning wildly, like a child's wooden top out of control. The digital map was blinking, the numbers scrambling, static lines obscuring the view. The tower was beginning to shake ever so slightly. Below him, the crew working on the aircraft had stopped stock still, there faces turned heavenwards. A soft rumbling sound started, increasing quickly to a loud roar. It reminded Nick of the Harrier jump jets that occasionally stopped for fuel at Collins before continuing on their training flights. He peered out over the horizon, and there it was. A white disc of light screamed over the black Nebraska sky. It veered sharply, it's speed and agility far from anything the designers were capable of creating. It rushed out over the 500 acre testing ground, before turning again and heading in the opposite direction. Suddenly, the roaring stopped, and the air went silent. Nick's eyes were riveted on the craft as it hovered silently in the air. In front of him, the needles on the dials spun faster. The men on the ground were as equally fascinated as he was. Still hovering on the horizon, the craft's cold white light pulsed steadily, like a beacon. And slow motion set in. Nick's eyes widened as the craft dropped from the sky, it's former agility lost. It seemed to fall for an eternity, before it crashed with the unmistakable sound of metal twisting, onto the straight, smooth runway. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 2/16 FBI HEADQUARTERS THURSDAY, 10:13AM Dana Scully paused, staring at the garish blue of her computer screen. She highlighted the last line she'd written of the field report and tapped the 'Delete' key. She leaned back in the chair and reread what she had written. Her flair for writing field reports seemed to have escaped her. She hoped it was only temporary. Her eyes flashed to the doorway as she saw Fox Mulder's head poke around the doorway. He smiled broadly at her. "Morning Red," he said cheerfully. He walked into the office, balancing a file folder, and a white paper bag. The warm smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls filled the small office. Scully smiled, amused at the sunny smile on his face. "Had a good sleep last night, huh Mulder?" she asked. She eyed the paper bag that Mulder set down on his desk. "You're gonna share what's in that bag, right?" Mulder smiled and handed her the bag, and took a seat opposite her. Scully reached into the bag and removed a sticky cinnamon roll, and handed it back to Mulder. She took a small bite, and the spicy flavour and warm soft texture of the roll filled her mouth. She closed her eyes in delight, quite forgetting Mulder was there. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his lips twisted in a funny little MulderSmile. She chewed rapidly and swallowed. "So, why are you in such a good mood this morning? And how come your late?" Mulder held up his hands. "Hey, easy there," he said lightly, taking another bite of his own roll. "I bought you food, didn't I?" He licked the icing off his fingers and sat a little straighter in his chair. "I've been in Skinner's office since eight-fifteen this morning." "Doing what?" Scully asked, reaching for the bag again. "He called me at home about seven o'clock, telling me that he had a file for me to look at." He pushed the file folder over to Scully, and tapped his index finger on it. "Skinner seems to think it came from one of our confidential sources. He's gotten to the stage where he doesn't question me on where our files come from." "Was it a source?" Scully asked. "Yep. Danny thought it might pique the interest of the team that have just been reinstated on the X-Files." Scully thought back to the decision made just a few weeks ago. After much deliberation, and memos flying back and forth across the Bureau with the speed of concordes, she and Mulder had been reinstated to the X-Files division. Those events, Skinner and his appeal on their behalf's to the Bureau bullpen, had amazingly paid off. But, they were still wary about sending herself and Mulder back out into the field. For now, they had been puttering around the office. Scully was itching to get back out into the field. She felt like she was back at Quantico. "You know how sensitive everyone is about us going back out into the field, Mulder. What do they have to say?" "I was getting to that," Mulder replied. He polished off another roll before continuing. "Skinner's discussing it with them right now, and he doesn't see any problem in us investigating this case. After all, they can't make us stay here forever going blind on paperwork." Scully thumbed through the last of the file that Mulder had bought with him. She eyed him suspiciously. "I should've known. Military base....alien encounter." She closed the folder and looked at him. "Apparently, an aircraft crashed at Collins on Tuesday night. Quite a few witnesses, but only one was brave enough to come forward. Danny said the official report the base released was that the man had been drinking at the time. But he thinks differently. He's been suspicious of Collins for months now, but he hasn't been able to blow the lid on them yet. He's pretty sure that they've been engaging in some...well, extracurricular activities...." "Don't you mean 'extraterrestrial' activities?" Scully interrupted. Mulder smirked at her and continued. "He thinks they are involved in using alien technology to produce high-powered military aircraft." He shrugged. "Just a theory. But it would be nice to get out into the field again." He smiled chramingly at her. "C'mon Scully. You know you want to." Scully sighed and tossed the folder on the desk. "Alright, alright, let's see what Skinner says. Remember, he may not be able to persuade the bullpen like you can persuade me." "I can persuade you?" Mulder said in an amused tone. "Moi?" Scully balled up the bag which previously held the cinnamon rolls and threw it at his chest. She stood up and picked up the beige jacket she had slung over the back of the chair. The July heat wave was preventing her from wearing it. "Where are you off to?" Mulder asked. He sat up, taking his feet off the desk. "I have some errands to run, Mulder," Scully replied. She hefted her briefcase. "Call me when the if I'm not back and they have reached a decision." She breezed out. Mulder sat for a few more minutes, the contented smile weaving onto his lips again. He drummed his fingers on the desk, and mulled over the conversation that had just taken place. "I'll be here Red," he murmured to himself. "Always." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 3/16 ASSISTANT DIRECTOR SKINNER'S OFFICE THURSDAY, 2:05PM "Agents, I'm sure I don't have to remind you about the fragility of your current situation. Right now, I can name half a dozen people who want nothing more that to see the X-Files shut for good, and the two of you wrapped up and tossed out of the Bureau without so much as a final paycheck." Assistant Director Skinner paused, loosening his tie as he studied the neutral faces of Mulder and Scully before him. He took off his glasses. "If they had the chance again, they would do it, and with no consideration as to what kind of catalyst it would start." He paused again, adjusting his position in the chair. "You being reassigned to the X-Files was indeed a lucky break. But the two of you need to consider yourselves still on probation when it comes to fieldwork. I know that you have difficulty following protocol when it comes to investigation out there. But I also know you use the book before you use your own....unique investigative techniques when it comes to questioning witnesses and so forth." He passed the final travel requisition forms and other papers. He leaned back waiting for either agent to speak. "Sir," Scully said. "I know that this has been very difficult, twisting the arm of Kersh and so forth. Agent Mulder and I appreciate what you have done for us." She glanced sideways at Mulder, but he was intently perusing the file. She turned back to Skinner. "I know we haven't exactly been a dream to supervise over." Skinner nodded, slipping his glasses back on. "Well, you don't want to miss your airplane," he said in a gruff voice. Scully stood, tapping Mulder to get his attention. He stumbled to his feet, almost spilling the contents of the folder onto Skinner's desk. "Let's go Mulder," she said. She waved him in front of her. "Oh, Agent Scully?" Skinner called after her, his eyes still trained on the folders on his desk. Scully turned to look at him. "Yes sir?" "You may not be a dream to supervise over, but you do keep my life interesting." * * * * The inside of the airplane cabin began to hum softly, as it taxied down the runway. The contrast between the two agents was almost comical. Mulder was slouched comfortably in the seat, reviewing last minute notes on the case, but Scully was gripping the armrests, her knuckles slowly turning white as the plane gathered speed, and nudged its nose in the air. The seatbelt light clicked off, and Mulder smiled to himself at the sigh of relief from Scully. They sat together in silence, but in a comfortable silence that six years of partnership created. Mulder used the time to scan the sky they were heading into. It was early morning, but the sun had not yet risen from it's bed below the horizon. Mulder stifled a yawn with his fist, and squirmed slightly in his seat. He hated flying, but not for the same reason Scully did. He looked over at his partner. Apparently, she had relaxed quicker than he had thought. Her head rested lightly on his shoulder, so lightly he hadn't noticed. A bright strand of soft coppery hair had slipped out from behind her ear, and was resting on the curve of her cheek. Mulder smiled and ever so carefully, stroked his fingers across her face and tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. He was afraid for a second that he would rouse her, but she slept on, oblivious to the five second indulgence her partner had risked life and limb to have. It wasn't that he didn't notice Scully. As one of the people who saw her the most, more than her mom even, he couldn't help *not* noticing. But he knew where he stood. A co-worker. A friend. Ocassionally a councillor. But never a lover. Mulder shook his head and damned the little guy inside him. The little guy that wielded the axe, that controlled his life. But even though he hated to admit it, the little fellow was right. It was just way too dangerous. Scully stirred on his shoulder and sighed. Her sapphire blue eyes peeked out from under her eyelashes. She sat up smoothing her hand over her slightly rumpled hair, and looked at Mulder to see his gaze fixated on her. "You okay Mulder?" she asked. She ran her fingers through her hair again. "Have I got some...." "No, no Scully. Sorry. I was just thinking." He stood and and started to move out into the aisle. "Back in a sec." Scully straightened up in the seat. She blinked her eyes a few times to try and erradicate the grittiness that seemed lodged under and in the corners of her eyelids. A steward walked by. "Ma'am, can I get you something? A beverage? A snack?" Scully looked up at him. Clean-shaven, blue eyes, short, slightly wavy blonde hair. An all-American face. Scully smiled politely. "No thankyou. Uh, how long until we land?" "Should be about another twenty-five minutes, ma'am. What about the man travelling with you? Will he be requiring anything?" "Yeah, I'll have a packet of peanuts," Mulder said, returning from leg-stretching walk up the aisle. He wriggled back into the seat and took the offered snack. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your flight," he said. He smiled at Scully. "Ma'am." Mulder scowled at his back as the man continued to move up the aisle. He leaned in just near Scully's ear. "I used to hate those guys when I was at school," he said softly. "Used to have a go at the Jewish guy with the distinguished profile who was academic, quiet and just that little bit 'spooky'." Scully eyed Mulder. "He may not be like the same *guys* you encountered when you were in high school," she countered. "You know, I used to go out with those kind of men." "When did your preferance end?" he said in a deep growl. He leered at her for emphasis. Scully swatted his arm lightly. "Who's to say my preferance ever dwindled?" Mulder put on his best mock-hurt face. "What, tall, dark and handsome don't interest you? I bet I'm ten times more fun than what he is." Scully opened her mouth to argue the conversation some more, but at that moment, the seatbelt light flicked on, and the pilot's voice came over the intercom. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be touching down in Nebraska in a few short minutes. We hope you have enjoyed your flight, and hope that you'll fly with us again soon." * * * * Scully hauled the last of her luggage off the carosel. She set it down next to her feet and scanned the people milling about. "How long does it take to rent a car?" she said to herself. "About that long," Mulder said from behind her. Scully jumped, the reaction instinctive. Mulder dangled the car keys in front of her. "You wanna drive?" XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers etc. 4/16 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE FRIDAY, 9:45AM The layout of the Collins base were pretty much the same as other military bases. The entrance was the standard chain-link fence and formidable razor-wire. Dotted up and down the road for about 25 miles in every direction were large lettered signs warning people that were approaching the base. The buildings themselves were mostly close to the ground, and painted gun-metal grey. The main building was the only one that stood out. Some effort had gone into its construction, and was the only building at the base that was carpeted. Agents Scully and Mulder were met at the gate by a tall man dressed in camoflague gear. He peered at the two of them through his aviator sunglasses as he inspected their security clearences. After scanning the papers, he looked at them again suspiciously. "Where did these clearences come from?" he asked, waving them slightly. "They came to us with the file that we received," Scully answered. She took off her sunglasses so she could see better. She could feel Mulder's tension beside her. The stand-offish attitude from the man was not something new to them. "Where did the file come from?" the man asked. Mulder leaned over Scully. "We are just given the files. We don't know where they come from. You'll have to call the Bureau." "Well, no information has reached me that you were expected here. I have no choice but to ask you to return home." "Wait a second Sam," a voice said from behind the gate. It belonged to a broad-shouldered man with greying hair, dressed in a charcoal wool suit that seemed inappropriate for the July weather. Pinned on the front of his suit were various commendations, completing the superior look. He buzzed himself through the gate, and came to stand beside Sam. "Now, agents," he said in a booming voice with a slight chill to his words. "I understand you're here to investigate a crash that occured here three nights ago. Apparently you have a report to file to your Bureau as part of protocol and so forth. Is this correct?" Scully jumped in first. "Yes sir, that's correct. We promise not to take to much of your employees time, and we will be out of here as soon as possible." "Good," the man replied. He touched Sam lightly on the shoulder, and he turned sharply and strode to the small office on the left-hand side of the gate. He hit a button, and the gate rolled back to allow the agents and their car through. The suited man waved his hand at them. "Drive up to the main building. I'll meet you up there." Scully looked at Mulder, one eyebrow raised, as she steered the car through the gate and to the small parking lot outside the main building. "What did I just do?" she asked Mulder. He looked at her, a small impressed smile on his face. "You just, aided of course by that nice man, bluffed your way onto a military base." He looked out the window at the activity around him. People were milling about everywhere. Groups were doing training and mechanics were buzzing around some impressive military jets. Mulder caught sight of a woman, wearing similar commendations to the suited man, discussing something with a group of about five female pilots. Her hair was midnight black, pulled back tightly into a knot high on her head. Her blue uniform clung to her curves, and she moved with grace, despite her fierce-looking, no-nonsense qualities. Mulder whistled softly in approval. "I've always liked a woman in uniform," he stated to no-one in paticular. Scully looked over at him again and then focused her eyes on the approaching parking lot. "I take it you saw the movie 'A Few Good Men'?" she asked in response. He sighed melodramatically. "Ah, Demi Moore. Don't know what she sees in ol' Bruce, if you ask me." Scully pulled the car in a spot right in front of the building. "Well, Agent Mulder, we're here for business, not pleasure. 'Fraid you'll have to chase the suited ladies some other time." She opened her door and stepped out of the car, stretching her stiff neck muscles. Mulder followed suit, closing and locking his door. Scully fell in an easy step with Mulder, the two of them walking up to the frosted double doors with the Department of Defense seal on it. Mulder pulled open the door and a blast of air-conditioning escaped. Holding it open, he lightly guided Scully through, and trailed in after her. The interior of the building was spacious and well lit. The carpets were a soft grey-blue colour, matching the walls and the wall length work desks where male and female secretaries worked. Scully touched Mulder's arm lightly. "Should I check us in?" she asked. "There's no need," a voice called to them. The suited man came striding up to them with the same confidence and air of authority he had exhibited earlier. He stuck out his hand. "I don't believe I know your names." "I'm Agent Mulder, this is Agent Scully," Mulder said, taking the man's offered hand. "Colonel Matthew McKenzie," the suited man said. He bowed to Scully and smiled. "So nice to see women in positions of authority. Nothing more appealing than a female officer." Scully bristled slightly, hiding it mostly but Mulder caught her irritation. McKenzie seemed oblivious. "Well, I suppose you want to know what happened a few days ago," McKenzie said, smiling broadly again. Without waiting for them, he turned and started in the direction of one of the closed blue office doors lining the back wall of the building. He fished a key out of his pocket and opened the door, ushering Mulder and Scully through. He shut it behind them and waved them to a couple of expensive looking leather swivel chairs facing an impressive mahogany desk. "So," McKenzie said conversationally, eyeing Scully as she crossed her legs and settled the file on her lap. "What do you know about Tuesday night?" Mulder cleared his throat loudly, attempting to divert McKenzie's attention from his partner. "The file states that an unidentified aircraft crashed onto your base at 6:38 p.m. It was reported by the man on shift in the tower, a...." He glanced over Scully's shoulder. "A Nicholas Gainsfield. Says he watched the craft hover in the sky before it crashed." "Mr Mulder, can you tell me where the file came from?" McKenzie asked. His brown eyes glittered dangerously, his mannerisms quite changed. "Uh, it arrived at our Washington office on Thursday morning. Our assistant director and direct superior handed it off to us." "If it's not too much trouble, may I ask why federal investigators have been sent to look into military affairs?" He smiled patronisingly. "As I understand it, the Feds investigate crimes against the American people." There was a pause. "I'm sorry agents. It's just a plane crash. That's why I have already had my secretary type up an official report, detailing the events, and the outcome." "Which was?" Scully asked. "One of our new jets crashed on a training flight. We unfortunately lost a pilot. His family has already been notified. This business about it being 'unidentified' is, I'm afraid, the result of Lieutenant Gainsfield's over-active imagination. Also, we tested him after we found him screaming that the sky is falling, and it was discovered that he had been drinking heavily just prior to his shift. Now, whoever sent you that file has been playing you. I would have told you this sooner, but an official report was required, and when I heard you were coming down, I thought I would give it to you in person." McKenzie smiled warmly, putting his hands on the end of the desk and pushing back. He stood up and smiled again. "I'm afraid that's all I can help you with, agents. I'm sorry, but we don't share the same reputation as some of our counterparts. We are just an air base, developing military technology in the hope to help America to retain it's power in warfare. It's nothing more than that." Scully and Mulder stood, still facing the man. A thought dawned on Scully. "Colonel, I'm just curious. Has the pilot's body been buried yet?" "Yes, it has," McKenzie said, appropriately bowing his head slightly. "Poor boy, he was only nineteen. His family had him cremated on Thursday morning. They wanted him laid to rest as soon as possible." Mulder leaned in and whispered softly, low enough for Scully to hear. "Convienient." Scully prodded him lightly with her elbow and continued. "What about the aircraft itself? Do you still have the wreckage somewhere?" "The aircraft was nothing but a heap of twisted metal. It has been disposed of according to the DoD procedures and regulations." "Why was there only one pilot flying the craft?" Mulder asked. "The information on how our planes are operated is classified, Agent Mulder. I'm afraid that I can't offer you any more information. If you sop at the front desk, you can pick up the report and be on your way." Knowing that they weren't going to get anymore information out of McKenzie, Mulder and Scully turned to leave. "Thankyou for your time, sir," Scully said. "No problem, little lady," McKenzie said, winking at her. Mulder screamed obsceninties in his head as he and Scully walked out of McKenzie's office. He turned to look at her as the door closed behind them. "What a bastard," Mulder whispered as they walked to the front desk. He flashed his badge at the secretary. "Hi, were here to pick an official report...." "Oh, the aircraft accident. Hold on." The girl put whoever she was talking to on the phone on hold, and then thumbed through a stack of papers on her desk. "Oh, here it is," she said brightly, handing them the paper. "Can I just ask you to sign here? It details that you picked up the report from us." Mulder leaned down over the counter and signed the other paper the girl was holding. "Thankyou sir," she said. Mulder handed her back the pen, and he and Scully walked outside. "Well, that was informative," Scully said as they walked down the stairs to the car. "Has to be one of the most easiest alien phenomena cases I have dealt with in the six years I have been with you." She smiled at him to show she was joking. "Didn't something seem....I don't know....off about his report?" Mulder asked, as he looked out over the base. A jet roared over the top of them, and Scully waited for it to pass before she answered him. "I found it unusual that evidence such as the wrecked craft had been destroyed. Wouldn't they have investigated it thoroughly to find out what had gone wrong in the first place? "So, you picked up on it too," Mulder replied. "Maybe they already did check it over before they got rid of it. But I don't think they could have determined what went wrong with the craft in three days. Not with experimental military craft, anyway." Scully looked at Mulder, wondering what he was getting at. "So....what are you saying?" "I can bet you ten to one that the remains of that mangled craft are still here. Not recycled into another form, or disposed of. They're hiding it. And they're hiding something from us." "Well, of course they're hiding something, they have classified information that they sign gag orders on. Look, I will credit to you that not everything about McKenzie's report was as cut-and-dry as I would like, but it's not like we have much of a choice here." Scully sighed. "Mulder you and I are on very thin ice now. They only need one slip-up, one mistake, and they will throw us out of the Bureau for good. And then the bad guys will win, and we'll be scanning the classified section of the Washington Post for jobs." "I know Scully, but doesn't the curiosity burn at your gut? Don't you want to know what really happened, not just the official story?" "I tell you what I want to know," Scully said to him, impatiently tapping the file againnst her leg. "I want to talk to this Nicholas Gainsfield that was supposedly drunk when he witnessed this occurance. But that doesn't mean that we will." "I want to talk to him too," Mulder said. He looked out again at the sprawling base, and then turned back to Scully. He smiled wickedly. "Wanna see if we can find him?" "Oh no, Mulder," Scully said. "No, wrong. We've been given the report, that's it. We need to get on an airplane ASAP. We're finished here. Our prescence is no longer required." "Scully, he may very well be the only one who is willing to give us a straight answer as to what happened here on Tuesday night. Now, if a pilot did die here, and his family has been told a lie, then we owe it to them to find out what really happened." "We could lose our jobs," she whispered softly. "And then six years of dodging bullets, ripping the lid off government secrets, it will mean nothing. If we want to eventually expose Them, then we need to do it with the safety of the Bureau behind us." Scully sighed and turned away from him. "If we do this....'if' Mulder, do you promise once we hear what he has to say, we'll leave?" Mulder came up behind her, and touched her shoulder lightly with his hand. "I promise, once we hear his side of the story, we'll get on a plane and leave." Scully turned. "Alright. I'm holding you to that." Mulder took the file from her and walked to the car. He opened the door and stuck it on the front passenger seat, then gestured to Scully to follow him. "Let's go find Nicholas." Scully looked at him, a bemused smile on her face. She hated being a pushover. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 5/16 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE FRIDAY 12:01PM Mulder started his enquiries with the black-haired female flight instructor he had spotted earlier. She had just dismissed her students, and was packing together a briefcase of papers. "Excuse me, ma'am? Can I have a moment of your time?" "Yes?" The woman regarded him curiously. "You don't look like you're from around here." "Actually, I'm with the FBI," Mulder replied. He flashed his badge for her. "FBI? What have we done to warrent the investigation of the Feds?" "My partner and I are here inversigating the crash here on Tuesday night," Mulder said. This was not the path he envisioned his questioning was going to go. He wanted to find Nicholas without too many people knowing who he was. The last thing that he needed was McKenzie breathing down his neck about him still loitering around the base. "The Feds have an interest in military happenings?" the woman asked. "Actually, I just wanted to ask you if you know where Nicholas Gainsfield is. His name keeps coming up, and we'd just like to talk to him." "As I understand it, he was drunk at the time of the accident. The base officials declared his testimony worthless." "All the same, we would just like to talk to him," Mulder replied. "He was suspended for two weeks, for being intoxicated and possible endangerment of lives. Apparently he has someone working for him in the ranks, because he would've been fired. I have no idea where he would be currently." "Okay. Do you know where I could find a friend of his, who could tell me where Nicholas lived?" "Try over in the rec building. The younger pilots and male officers would know more than I would. I'm in charge of the female pilots, as you can probably tell. "Yes, I noticed. Thanks for your time." Mulder smiled and walked away. * * * * Scully eventually spotted Mulder waiting for her by the car. She broke into a half run, praying silently that he'd had more luck than she did. He smiled broadly at her as she caught up to him. "Mulder, I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?" "Well, I went and talked to that female flight instructor I spotted when we were driving in, and she directed me to the rec buiding, where some of Nicholas's friends were. I talked to a guy who gave me the address of Nicholas's current whereabouts. I've been waiting here ever since." "How long ago was that" Scully asked. The day had heated up considerably, and a fine sheen of sweat had broken out on Mulder's forehead. For a second, Scully realised how attractive he was. She angrily stamped the little guy in her head flat. "About forty-five minutes ago. But it's okay. I have had immense entertainment." "I'm confused, Mulder." "McKenzie found me. I think maybe that flight instructor blew the whistle on me. He ordered you and I off the base as soon as I found you, or he's going to charge us with trespassing." Scully nodded. "Okay," she said. "As long as we have an address for Nicholas, we can leave." "My sentiments exactly. The last thing I want to do is get into trouble." Scully reached up and put her hand on Mulder's forehead. "Are you okay Mulder? Sure you're feeling alright?" Mulder smiled. "Yeah, I'm okay. But I am hungry. Care for a bite to eat?" Scully made for the car. "Sure, let's go." * * * * After being put on suspension for two weeks, Nicholas finally had the time to work on his car. It had been neglected for weeks, Nick preferring to hitch a lift with Josh in his BMW. Currently, he was squashed under the belly of it, weilding a spanner as he unscrewed and checked a dozen different bolts, trying to find the problem. He had always enjoyed tinkering with the car, or with anything that required a knowledge of mechanics. His knowledge had helped him get through Collins rigorous screening program, allowing him to expand his mechanical skills. From there, he had gone onto communications, and was just about to start training to become a pilot, when the unpleasantness had started. Nick sighed and rubbed his grease-covered hands on his dirty overalls. He couldn't understand why he had been suspended. From the murmerings he had heard around the base, McKenzie and his buddies had decided that he was intoxicated when he witnessed the accident, and no needles were spinning, no lights were flashing, it had just been an ordinary crash. But he'd seen that crash. Had left the tower against regulations and rushed out to the runway where the craft had gone down. Got within a few feet of the mangled wreckage and caught a glimpse of the dead pilot. It had looked to be about four-foot tall, it's skin greenish-grey in the light from the tower. It had oblique eyes, ebony in colour, and it's mouth was a small puckered hole. It had struck Nick then that the craft wasn't burning. Nick had witnessed a jet crash at Collins a year ago, and the two were very different. While the jet had exploded on impact, bursting into hot orange flames, the mystery craft had just crashed. The navigation systems shut down, and the disc became a twisted heap of junk, but it had not caught on fire. The rest was a blur as he was pulled away from the wreck, processed, and told to haul his sorry ass out of there, and don't even think of returning until the two-week suspension was up. The phone inside his house jangled loudly, and he pushed himself out from under the car, racing to beat his answering machine. "Hi, you've reached....." Nick grabbed the phone and punched a button on the machine. "I'm here." "Hey Nicky, it's Josh." "Hi. I was out working on the car." "That heap of shit?" "I'll have you know that heap of shit is a T-bird. Don't knock my machine." "Well, I suppose you have the time." "Don't remind me. I don't even want to think about how this could affect sitting my flight test. They may not give it to me now." "Well, that aside, I had a motivation for ringing you, believe it or not." "And that is?" Nick queried. "There were some people at the base today, a man and a woman. Said they were with the FBI. They're investigating the crash on Tuesday night, and they want to talk to you." "How did the Feds get involved?" "Must have connections in high places. Anyway, they're really keen to talk to you. The man got your address from Max." "Yeah, if anyone voiced my prescense to the Feds, it would be him," Nick coiled the phone cord in his fingers. "Okay, when are they coming around?" "Probably sometime this afternoon. What are you going to tell them?" "I don't know....I'll think of something. Thanks for calling, Josh. See you soon." "Later dude." Nick hung up the phone and set the spanner that he was still carrying on the table beside him. He brushed his hands again on the faded khaki overalls, and walked to the shower. What was he going to tell them? XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 6/16 GAINSFIELD RESIDENCE FRIDAY, 3:42PM "After you," Mulder said to his partner with a grand sweep of his hand. Scully shook her head at him and raised her fist to knock on the screen door. Nicholas Gainsfield's one-story house was framed by a basic hedge on both sides. The door to the garage was open, and several tools were lying on a bench and hung on hooks. A light blue Thunderbird sat in the driveway, a few parts loose and sitting a few feet away, but it was obviously the owner's pride and joy. The two agents only had to wait a few seconds before a tall man answered the door. He had short, spiked brown hair, cut in the classic "military" cut. He regarded the two on his doorstep for a few seconds before speaking. "Can I help you?" "Is your name Nicholas Gainsfield?" "Yes, I'm Nicholas." "Mr Gainsfield, this is Agent Mulder, I'm Agent Scully, we're with the FBI." She and Mulder held up their badges. "We'd like to ask you some questions about the events of Tuesday night at Collins Air Force Base." "Oh, sure, come on in," Nick held the door open, ushering them into his living room. "So, what's your interest in what happened at the base?" "We deal with cases such as this," Mulder said. He watched Nick carefully as he continued. "Cases that deal with unexplained phenomena." Nick's head jerked up at what Mulder said. He sat down on a faded green couch, waving the agents to a pair of armchairs. "Uh, what do you mean, unexplained phenomena? It was just a crash. Unfortunately, they happen." "Mr Gainsfield...." Mulder started "Call me Nick." "Nick," Mulder corrected. "Our file states that you witnessed an unidentified craft crash at Collins on Tuesday. We spoke to Colonel Matthew McKenzie, he said you were intoxicated at the time, and that you couldn't have known what you had witnessed." He leaned forward, and Nick became more agitated. His eyes were large with worry and fear. "All we are trying to establish is what happened. You are the only one that can help us." Nick closed his eyes for a brief second, and leaned forward in the chair, cradling his head in his hands. "I could lose my job," he whispered. Scully spoke soothingly. "I promise you, Agent Mulder and I will be the only ones who know about this. What you tell us won't leave this room." Nick trembled slightly. "Okay. I suppose I need to tell someone what happened anyway. I only told Josh...." Scully tookout a notebook. "Who's Josh?" she asked gently. "Oh, Josh Newhart, he and I work at Collins. He and I joined Collins at the same time, and he was helping me study for my flight exam. He became a pilot as soon as he joined." Mulder made himself a little more comfortable in the green armchair. "What happened, Nick?" * * * * He sat for a few seconds before answering Mulder's question. The two agents sat passively, letting him take his own time. "Up until now, I had a spotless military record. I've been working at Collins base for four years. I originally was recruited for my mechanics skills, but I progressed rapidly into communications, also with excellent results, and was ready to become a pilot. "I was ready to go on tower duty on Tuesday night. I was running a little late....I had a few reports to tidy up, and I left the log book in the rec building. I remember Josh razzed me for being late, because he was supposed to meet his girlfriend Annie for dinner. We spoke for a few minutes, and then he left. He wasn't there when it happened. "I think at this point I should let you know....I drink only when I am off duty. I never have shown up to work intoxicated, and I only have a maximum of two beers when I drink socially. There was no way I could have been drunk when I went to work." "Agent Scully and I expected as much," Mulder said. "Believe me, yours isn't the only case where the cause has been attributed to or blamed on the drink." Nick nodded and took several deep breaths before continuing. "I was doing general stuff....listening to the other pilots conversing with each other, checking systems, updating log books. Shortly before the crash, a pilot radioed me requesting to land. Just as I had finished talking to him, the radio gave this screech of static. I thought maybe a storm had blown in, until the instruments began spinning." "Spinning?" Mulder asked, his interest piqued. "Yeah, They were out of control, kinda like when you put a magnet near a compass. We've experienced mechanical failure before, but not to the extent that I was seeing. The guys below me, the crew directing aircraft and so forth must have noticed something too, because they had stopped working." "Then what?" Scully asked. Nick's eyes went bleak as he recalled the events. "This....*craft* flew across the sky. It was so fast, and it had such agility....I've never seen anything like it before in my life. Not even on some of the experimental craft the designers have been working on in the last few months. Anyway, as I watched it fly over the tower, this rumbling sound seemed to follow it....I remember the tower shook as it passed over me." He paused again, then continued. "It then flew out over the testing ground, then turned and went in the opposite direction. Then...." He trailed off. "Go on," Mulder said softly. "The air suddenly went silent. There wasn't a sound. There was no radio static, nothing. The craft just hovered there, in line with the horizon, over runway eight. And then I just watched it fall out of the sky." "Nick, what did the craft look like?" Mulder asked. "It was a disc, broad and flat when it was flying. It glowed with this white light, but it was a cold light, a cold that you could feel right down in your bones." He shuddered. "It wasn't a disc when it crashed. It crumpled fairly easily, into this twisted heap of metal." "Did you get a look at the pilot?" Scully asked. The young man focused his soft brown eyes on the redhead. "Yeah, I saw it." "*It*?" Mulder asked, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Are you a believer in aliens, Agent Mulder?" Nick asked. Mulder's eyebrows raised even more, and it was a few seconds before he spoke. "I believe that we are not alone," he said carefully. "Why?" "Had someone like Josh, or anyone for that matter, asked me did I believe in visitors from outer space, I would've laughed and told them they had to be crazy." "Story of my life," Mulder murmered. Nick continued. "But, on Tuesday night, I saw something that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy." "Nick, was the pilot of the craft an extraterrestrial?" Mulder asked, his eyes aglow with excitement. The case was becoming more and more his territory. Nick nodded and buried his face in his hands again. "Yeah. It sure wasn't from this world. It had grey skin and these huge black slanted eyes. It was dead when I found it." "Nick, McKenzie said that the wreck was disposed of, and the pilot was cremated and laid to rest by his family. Can you tell us what happened?" Scully looked at Mulder. She recognised the look in his eyes. She had a feeling that they wouldn't be out of here by tomorrow. "That's crap," Nick said. "The craft was taken down into a downstairs room, for further investigation. A few of my friends saw them take it down, along with the pilot." "Nick, what are the odds of the wreckage and the....*thing* still being at the base?" Mulder asked. Scully held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa Mulder. McKenzie chased us off that base today, and if we show up again, it we'll be the ones without a job. "Scully, we need to know why this happened. What caused the craft to crash. The only way we can do that is if we can see the wreckage." Nick watched the exchange between the agents quietly. He spoke. "The wreckage is still at the base. From what I heard, the designers were impressed by what they saw, and wanted to work from it for their new set of planes. I don't know how solid that information is. I don't know what else I can tell you. I'm afraid I'm not much help on suspension." Mulder stood and offered his hand. "On the contrary, Nick, you have been the most helpful of our enquiries so far." He looked at Scully. "We should go. Nick, will you be available for further questions if we need you?" "Yeah. Got so much time on my hands, thought I'd work on the car." "That's your T-bird?" Mulder asked. "That's mine. Though I don't know what's wrong with it. Too much time around aircraft." "It's a nice looking car," Scully said as she and Mulder walked to the door. She smiled at Nick. "It's okay. You did the right thing. They shouldn't be allowed to lie like that to cover their own asses." "Yeah, thanks. I nedded to talk to someone. It was only going to eat me inside." He raised a hand in farewell. "Thanks again." He shut the door, leaving Mulder and Scully alone on the doorstep. "Well," Mulder stated as they walked to the car. "Some interesting developments, wouldn't you say?" Scully pursed her lips slightly as she thought about the discussion with Nick. "I still think something is missing," she said. "I know that is normally your department, but I got the feeling that Nick didn't tell us everything he knew." "Well, you have to admit, he did tell us more than what McKenzie did," Mulder replied. He opened the car door. "How about we go back to the motel, have a look at the notes, and see if we can come up with a strategy for tomorrow." "Hey, you said we'd leave tomorrow!" Scully exclaimed as she slid into the car. "You said we'd talk to Nick, and then leave for Washington in the morning." "Oh come on Scully," Mulder said defensively. "Don't you want to know more? You said yourself that Nick was hiding something." Scully considered. "Alright. But we have to be careful not to step on anymore toes. Okay?" Mulder smile charmingly. "When have I stepped on anyone's toes?" * * * * Nick peeked out from behind the blinds in his living room as he watched the silver Taurus pull out of his driveway. He stood there for several minutes after they had left, tapping the drapes against the window pane. He knew that he should have told them everything. Not just the crash, but the other unusual things that he had witnessed in the few months prior to his suspension. The male agent had looked interested in what he had to say. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to talk about it. To tell them about what work Collins *really* did. He abruptly let go of the blinds and went back out to the car. At that moment, he felt solely responsible for what had happened. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 7/16 BLUE CROWN MOTOR INN FRIDAY, 8:24PM "Another case, another budget motel," Scully murmered to herself as she unlocked the door to her room. She dropped the suitcase on the floor and wriggled out of her business jacket. In the next room, she heard Mulder moving about, and then his quick knock on the connecting door. "Hey, Scully. You decent?" "Yeah, Mulder, what is it?" she replied, tossing the jacket she was still holding onto the bed. He stuck his head around the door, his cell phone in his hand. "Make those phone calls, and I'll order us some dinner." He waggled the phone. Scully eyed him suspiciously. "Can I trust you to do that?" she asked. "Relax, it's safe. There was a pizza place about 3 miles back. No anchovies, right?" Scully opened the suitcase and fished around for some more comfortable clothes. "Mmm-hmm. Do I have time to shower?" He leered at her. "I don't know....would you like some help? I scrub a mean back." "You're lucky I have nothing to throw at you, Mulder." Scully shooed him out of the room. "Order dinner, before my appetite vanishes altogether." Mulder smiled as the door shut in his face. He flicked on the television and sat down on the bed. Next door he could hear Scully on the phone. She had thought it best to call Skinner and tell him of the developments in the case, and that they would be in Nebraska for another day at least. The other call was to Danny. After McKenzie ordered them off the base earlier that day, Scully had thought it best to call Danny, and see if he could work his magic and get them some day passes onto the base. Somehow, that thought bought back a flood of memories. How the two of them had slipped under Bureau radar more times than he cared to count. Driving in the middle of the night, through all kinds of weather to yet another case, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking a mile a minute, but always together. Six years had done that to them. Mulder sometimes wondered how he had ever managed to work with anyone else. And now, he wondered if he would ever be able to do without her if something happened, some event caused them to.... Mulder sighed and flopped face up onto the bed, folding his hands under his head. He knew he had to stop thinking in this frame of mind. But it was hard. He had been thinking this way for a while now. The close calls he and Scully had been involved in had been adding up lately. He was afraid. He didn't want to lose her. He would feel to responsible. He found his rock, his anchor in Scully. Her stability was what kept him from completely going around the bend. And if he lost that.... His deliberation was interrupted with a knock at the front door. "Scully, pizza's here!" he called through the crack in the connecting door. He deftly took the pizza off the girl, smiled at her, and pushed the money in her hand. He closed the door behind him and placed the pizza on the bed. Scully came in a minute later, drying her hair with a towel. She was dressed in her blue pyjamas with a white robe over the top. Her eyes lit up when she saw the pizza. "Mmm, yummy," she said as she took a seat next to him on the bed. She picked up a slice and bit into it. "So, what did Skinner say?" Mulder asked. Scully finished what was in her mouth before answering him. "I told him that we had some developments in the case, and that we would be here for longer than we thought." She took another bite of her pizza. "He asked us to just keep within the limits. If we hit another closed door, then we should just come home." "What about Danny?" "Well, that was a little more difficult. Not asking Danny for the favour, because I know he would help us out any way he could. He told me he pratically twisted the arms of five different people before he managed to get the passes. He doesn't know if he can do it again." Scully sighed and finished her slice. "He said he'd call me back if he could do anything about it. I guess we just have to wait." Mulder sighed and leaned back on the pillows on the bed, chewing on another piece of pizza. The two of them sat silently before Scully spoke. "So, Mulder. What do you think happened on Tuesday night?" Mulder looked at her amused. "Normally I just tell you my opinion, not wait for you to ask for it." He kicked off his shoes before continuing. "I think that an alien craft crashed at Collins, and McKenzie is so worried about people finding out, he covered it up as quick as possible. Nicholas Gainsfield was a witness, and they had to get rid of him for a few weeks just in case someone looked into it." "What about Nick?" Scully asked. "He seemed....I don't know, a bit hesitant to elaborate on what he saw too much. I had this feeling that he knew more than he was telling us." "We asked him to stay in the area for the next few days, so I think we should try and see him again before we leave. If he is hid...." Mulder was interuppted by the distant ringing of a phone. Scully jumped off the bed. "That'll be Danny," she said, and walked quickly through the connecting door. She came back a few seconds later, phone against her ear. "Hi Danny....Yes....No, that's okay....Alright....And how long?....Oh, okay then....No, Danny, it's fine. Thanks....Yeah, you too." Mulder looked hopefully at her. He saw the dejected look on her face. "Please don't tell me we are screwed." "Well, pretty much. Danny said after we had been there today, Collins has tightened their security right up. They're basically refusing entry to anyone other than their own personnel." She picked up a congealed lump of cheese from the pizza box and put it in her mouth, watching with delight as Mulder wrinkled his nose at her. She rapidly swallowed and went on. "Danny's working on it, but he makes no promises. He said he'd call in the morning, good news or bad." "So, that's it then," Mulder said. "We'll just have to wait." "That's all he could promise." Scully got up from the bed and went to the door. "I suggest we get a good sleep now, and talk in the morning. I'll see you tomorrow." "Yeah, okay. G'night Scully." "'Night Mulder." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 8/16 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE SATURDAY, 0345 military time Like most military bases, Collins didn't shut down as soon as the cover of darkness fell. Even in the wee hours of the morning, the buildings of the base were bustling with activity. Personnel worked at desks, punching keys and reviewing data on their computers, mechanics and engineers worked under some of the most expensive aircraft ever constructed, and meetings took place between directors behind closed and double locked doors. In one such room, two men sat. One sat behind a large mahogany desk, a cream-coloured manila folder filled with papers in his hands. His tie was loosened, and his eyes were weary. It had not been a good day. The second man was impeccably dressed, and showed no signs of discomfort in his grey suit, white dress shirt and maroon tie. Perhaps it was because he had the upper hand. Between his fingers, a Morley brand cigarette rested, the end a smouldering orange. A thin curl of smoke rose from the tip. The second man took a drag from the cigarette before continuing his tirade. He spoke in a calm voice, despite the fact that the man opposite him was dangerously close to jeopardising his career as the successful colonel of Collins. "Mr McKenzie, let me remind you again how important this is. You knew those agents would find some way to get in touch with Nicholas Gainsfield before they even left the base. *I* even knew they would find him somehow. I *warned* you specifically about Mulder and Scully. They have become stronger even since they were reinstated to their division." The man took another drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray on McKenzie's desk. He noted with smug satisfaction the obvious discomfort that McKenzie was feeling. Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and he seemed to be having difficulty finding a comfortable seating position. The smoking man continued. "If those agents find out what is really going on, our group will cease all funding to your project. And because there is no record of money being set aside for you on the government ledger, you wont be able to get it off the ground again. Just remember that. We are willing to help you in any way possible, but without us, "Iron Horse" doesn't exist." "Permission to speak, sir?" McKenzie asked meekly. The smoking man nodded. "With all due respect, sir, you still haven't told me how I am supposed to deal with the events of Tuesday night. Gainsfield is due back in another ten days. For all we know, he could have already told those FBI agents everything that he had witnessed. If our program is responsible for this...." "I suppose you won't know that until you find out. If your program was the reason the craft crashed, then you have some serious thinking to do. What if it had been one of your pilots up there? And as for Mr Gainsfield, if he has told Mulder and Scully everything he thought he saw....I suggest you start and wonder how valuable he really is." Without any formal farewell, the smoking man got up from his chair and left the office. McKenzie watched him leave, and then pushed himself away from the desk and walked to the large window overlooking the base. As he watched, McKenzie thought about his military career. He had been proud of the contribution he had made to the safety of his country. He loved the United States with a passion, and believed it was somehow his duty to look after her if she was ever at war. But recently, everything had been upside down. It was exactly twelve months since "Iron Horse" went into effect. He didn't want to think about whether it had been responsible for the crash on Tuesday night. His men were conducting an honest experiment. If somehow it was screwing with *them*.... McKenzie chided himself. He was running the show, but he was allowing himself to be scared by The Smoker. The man who pulled the strings and made the government cough up when it came to funding. But the sad reality was that without his group's generous grant, "Iron Horse" would not have had a chance at getting off the ground. McKenzie focused his attention out on the runway closest to the testing ground. The most recently finished craft was being piloted by an expert, who was testing the craft's agility. It swooped back and forth, turning smoothly on it's state-of-the-art frame. McKenzie smiled slightly. He could see why the pilots who had the privilege of flying the planes had nicknamed them "Dancing Butterflies". McKenzie was about to turn around and continue with his work when something else caught his eye. Over the horizon, a light hovered. He thought perhaps it was his eyes playing tricks on him, but when he looked more closely, it was still there. As it drew a little closer, he noticed it seemed to be having difficulty flying. He dimly thought in the back of his head that the craft was in restricted airspace, but the thought was quickly forgotten. The craft turned sharply and flew out onto the testing ground. The men out testing Collins new plane waved their arms in a desperate attempt to alert the mysterious craft of it's close proximity to another. But it was too late. The disc of white light clipped the Collins plane on one of it's broad flat wings. The two tipped onto their sides from the force of the hit, but the disc managed to right itself up. The Collins plane didn't have much luck though. The force of the hit must have been a lot greater than what McKenzie perceived. It rolled twice in the air, smoke trailing from it's bruised wing. The dancing butterfly rolled a third time before it crashed onto the rough terrain of the testing ground. McKenzie's heart lodged in his throat as he strained his eyes to see the smouldering wreckage. Men had rushed over to it, abandoning their posts to lend a hand at the testing ground. Meanwhile, the mysterious craft that glowed with the unearthly white was still limping across the sky. McKenzie craned his neck to watch as the craft flew over the top of the main building. As it flew over, the various items on McKenzie's desk rattled and jumped as a loud rumbling filled the air. For several seconds, that was all that could be heard. Some of the men from the rescue operation were making their way behind the main building where the craft had been seen to go. The rumbling suddenly increased to a reverberating whine of mechanical noise as the craft flew back in the opposite direction that it came. It just grazed by the radio tower as it flew back over the testing ground. It stopped and hovered for a few seconds before seemingly crumpling in on itself, and crashing onto the ground. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 9/16 BLUE CROWN MOTOR INN SATURDAY, 6:54AM The shrill ringing of her cell phone woke Scully from her blissful slumber. She squinted at the dial of her watch, and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The phone squealed again, reminding Scully of it's prescence. She picked it up from the side table and flipped it open. "Scully." "Hey, Dana, it's Danny here. Did I wake you?" "Yeah, but it's about time that I was up anyway. How did you go with the passes?" "Before I get to that, I have some interesting news." Scully got out of bed and began putting clothes together. The room next to her was silent. Mulder must have still been asleep. "What kind of interesting news?" "Well, I was talking with some of my contacts early this morning, around four-thirty...." "Oh, Danny, you didn't have to do that...." "Relax Dana. You know I am a busy man. I was happy to do it. I've wanted to rip the lid off Collins for ages now. It's okay." He paused and continued. "Apparently, there was some unprecedented activity at Collins last night. Another unidentified craft crashed." "You're kidding!" Scully exclaimed. She sat back down on the bed, her clothes momentarily forgotten. "What time did this happen?" "Around about 4 this morning. But there is a slight twist. It clipped another craft that was being tested. Both it and the unidentified craft went down." "Oh, Jesus," Scully whispered. "Apparently the pilot of the Collins plane was killed on impact, the unidentified craft flew for a bit longer before it went down. Crewmen had observed that it was having problems before it crashed." "What about the pilot of the second craft?" Scully asked. She had a funny feeling she already knew the answer. "It was killed too." "*It*?" Scully asked. Her stomach flip-flopped. "That's the best way Carl, my contact, could explain it." "Okay," Scully sighed. She pushed a hand through her hair. "What about the passes?" "Ah, now, I have managed to obtain day passes for you and Mulder, to be used today only, but not after that. Like I said, security at the base is tighter than a drum. There is something else." "What's that?" "The pilot of the Collins craft is yet to receive a medical examination. How would you and Mulder like to take care of it?" "They'll actually let us?" "I got some guys to put in a good word. You'll receive your passes and credentials sometime this morning. The only thing you need to do is find a guide to show you where you have to go. Maybe you could talk with Gainsfield, he could make a few phone calls." "Okay, that's great, Danny. I owe you." "You always owe me, Dana. Later." Scully hung up the phone and smiled. She dumped the clothes she had pulled out of her suitcase on the bed and peeked through the connecting door. Mulder was resting on his side, the sheet and blankets bunched around his waist. In sleep, the lines on his face, from a lifetime of searching for his elusive truth weren't evident. His fist was curled under his chin, and his mouth was open slightly. Scully smiled fondly at him, and went to the bed. She watched him for a few more seconds before touching him on the shoulder. "Mulder, come on, you have to get up." "Hmmph?" was his reply as he rolled onto his back. "Is that you, Scully?" "Yeah." "What are you doing here?" "We're on a case in Nebraska, Mulder. Remember? Collins Air Force Base?" Mulder opened his eyes and looked sleepily at Scully. He smiled at her. "Your a nice alarm clock," he said as he sat up. He rubbed at his eyes before swinging his legs off the bed and standing. He ran a hand through his short brown hair, which was spiky from sleeping in it. "What time is it?" he asked. Scully checked her watch. "Five minutes past seven," she replied. "15 minutes, then we'll find somewhere to eat for breakfast. I'll discuss with you what Danny said to me this morning." "He rang you?" "Yeah, about ten minutes ago. Hurry up, where burning daylight." She left the room. Mulder gathered up his clothes from the night before and shoved them back in his suitcase. He pulled out a fresh set and went to the tiny bathroom in his room. He stripped off the cotton boxers he wore to bed, and stepped into the shower. "Ahhhh," he sighed a few moments later as the hot water cascaded around him. Steam rose up in licking tendrils in the bathroom, floating out the tiny window he had opened. He could quite happily stay here for hours, soaking up the feel of the hot water. A sharp knock at the door jolted him. He heard Scully over the water. "Come on Mulder, or I'm coming in there after you!" "Please can you," he whispered to himself. "Coming!" he shouted. * * * * Half an hour later, Mulder and Scully were situated at a small diner. Mulder's stomach growled as he perused the menu. "What'll it be?" the tall waitress looking after their table asked. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had a huge wad of gum in her mouth. Since Mulder seemed to be having trouble making up his mind, Scully jumped in with her order. "I'll have a bowl of cornflakes, coffee and orange juice, please." "And you sir?" the woman asked turning to Mulder. "Um....how about the Big Breakfast?" He looked at the menu again. "I'll have a coffee too." The waitress wrote down their orders and left. Scully used the time to pull out the file they had on Collins and look through it again. "What did Danny say?" Mulder asked, leaning back in the red Naugahyde booth. Scully rested the file on the table and eyed Mulder carefully. "Seems there was some interesting events last night," she said. She paused dramatically, relishing the look of anticipation on Mulder's face. She continued. "Another craft crashed at the base early this morning." Mulder's eyes shot up. "Another one? You're kidding?" "That's what I said. Danny said that it happened about 4 o'clock. But there was something else." "And that was?" Scully was interrupted briefly as their breakfast arrived. She fell silent until the waitress left. "The craft clipped one of Collins airplanes as it went down. It crashed too. The pilot died on impact." Mulder pursed his lips, his eyes drifting away as it sunk in. "Two pieces instead of one. We have to get there, Scully. It may be our last chance to find out what the hell is going on." "I was getting to that. Danny went one better. The pilot from the Collins craft last night hasn't received an official medical examination. He asked if I wanted to do it." "Great. At least we'll get *some* idea of what happened." At that moment, a man dressed in a grey suit and a green tie walked into the diner. He walked briskly to Mulder and Scully's table, a manila folder in his hand. "Here are the passes and information you will need for today. Good luck." The man nodded to them and exited as quickly as he entered. "Danny's contacts are so enigmatic, aren't they?" Mulder asked, his lips quirked in a smile. "Hardened bureaucrats. Uh, Mulder....I know you don't want to hear this, but do you really think these craft are extraterrestrial? They may be just a...a new design that nobody knows about. You heard McKenzie. He said Tuesday night's craft was a new jet they were testing." "And what about Gainsfield? He said that thing just *arrived* on the base and crashed. I don't think he was drunk, Scully. I think he was sober and what he witnessed was real." "Well, I suppose that we'll find out today whether he was lying to us or not. We have to see him this morning anyway." "Why?" "Danny suggested we find ourselves a tour guide for the day. Show us where to go, and that. He said try Gainsfield first, he may be able to call a friend who is willing to show us around." "Well, there's only one way to find out," Mulder replied. He pulled out his wallet to pay for his food. "Oh, my turn, Mulder. You bought pizza last night." She pulled out the money and went to the cash register. Mulder stood up and grabbed his and Scully's coats and went to wait for her outside. Scully joined him a few minutes later, and they walked to the car. "Let's hope Gainsfield is willing to help us," Scully said. "Don't say that, you'll jinx us," Mulder replied. * * * * Twenty-five minutes later, they were on the doorstep of Nick's residence. Mulder rapped his knuckles on it twice, and Nick swung the door open. "Oh, Agents Mulder and Scully. Thought you might come back." He waved them inside. "What do you mean by that?" Scully asked. "Well, I am assuming that you know about the crash last night. Josh rang me, I thought perhaps you would have found out too." "Actually, we did," Mulder replied. "I hope you don't think I had anything to do with it. I was here watching the tube. Uh, sit down," he offered. The agents took their seats while Nick hovered near the kitchen door. "Can I get you anything?" "No thankyou. We actually have a favour to ask of you," Scully said. She mentally crossed her fingers. "Oh yeah? What would that be?" "Agent Mulder and I have passes for today to allow us onto the base and examine the body of the pilot that went down. But we need your help." "I'm not much help on suspension, agents. They don't want to see my ass for another nine or ten days." He looked at the floor. "If they allow me back there at all." "We know. And you don't have to do anything that is going to jeopadise your career. We just need you to make a phone call to one of your friends. We need a guide of some sorts waiting for us when we arrive. It will help make our job a lot easier. You won't be named. Agent Mulder and I will take full responsibility if trouble arises." Nick eyed them, a look of disbelief and suspicion in his eyes. "You aren't like most Feds, are you? What *do* you investigate?" "Things like this," Mulder said softly. "What do you say, Nick. Will you help us?" Nick's face was one of deliberation as he considered. "Will you expose these bastards?" he asked. Mulder smiled. "All the way to the top." He grinned broadly. "Then let's do it." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. Still going. Thanks for sticking around! 10/16 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE SATURDAY, 10:21AM Without even being questioned on where they got the credentials to be present on the base for a second time, Mulder pulled the car easily into the main building's parking lot. Scully was the first to spot Josh Newhart waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. The tall thin man wore the ubiquitous camoflague gear that the agents had observed on all the young pilots. He shaded his eyes against the sun, and extended a hand as Mulder and Scully approached. "Agents Mulder and Scully," he said, shaking hands with them. "I'm Josh Newhart." He looked them over quickly, then spoke again. "Do you have your credentials and authorization papers? You'll need to show them to a few different people." "Like who?" Mulder asked. Scully recognised the tone in his voice. His walls were going up. "Guards and other people will want to see that you have full permission to be conducting this examination. They've been a bit fanatical lately, which is not suprising considering the shit that has been going down." Josh fell silent for a few moments as they walked. He spoke again, his voice softer and tinged with worry. "Is what Nicky said true? The base is covering up what is really going on here? I mean, he told me what he saw, but I didn't believe him. Not really. It's not an easy thing to accept." He scuffed his feet slightly as he walked. "Why are they doing this?" Scully fielded the question. "We don't know, Josh. We hope to find out and maybe help to prevent this." Josh nodded. "Is Nicky coming back to work after his two week suspension? He's worried that they're going to turf his job." "We don't see why Nick shouldn't come back to work. He did nothing wrong," Mulder replied. Josh steered the him and Scully down a short flight of concrete stairs and to a large glass door. He ran a card through the slot, and the door hissed and slid open. He ushered them inside, and the door slammed behind them. "Josh," Mulder asked when they were through the door, his voice soft as they proceeded down the hushed corridors of the underground building. "Do you know if they kept the....uh, pilot of the other craft? The one that clipped the Collins plane?" Josh furrowed his brow in concentration. "I helped recover the Collins wreckage, so I don't know for sure. I would think so. Aren't you conducting an examination on them as well?" Scully opened her mouth to speak, but Mulder cut her off. "We hope to view both bodies," he said. "I'm sure Agent Scully would like to find out why the other pilot was having trouble before it clipped the other plane and went down." He turned to look at Scully, and her eyes flashed dangerously at him. He felt an inward sinking feeling. He should have broached the subject about the other pilot with her before. Josh led them to a small room that contained a desk, with a screen of bullet-proof glass between it and the outside world. A woman sat behind the desk, her reddish-gold hair shoulder length, and framing her face in a mass of tightly coiled curls. Josh gestured to the two agents to wait while he spoke with the woman. Scully turned to Mulder. "We are supposed to be investigation the pilot of the Collins plane only," she hissed softly at him. "Danny said that was the best he could do. If anyone finds out we saw that other body without authorization we will be in big trouble." "But Scully, how are we supposed to glean any possible information from the Collins pilot? If we want a picture of what is happening here, we are going to get it from the other pilot. If we get a chance, we need to take it. "Mulder, Danny didn't even give me any clearances to invesitigate the other pilot. If McKenzie caught us, we could be placed under military arrest." Mulder thought for a moment. "If we can bluff our way into getting a look at that pilot without getting into trouble, will you give me an opinion as to what happened?" "Since when did my opinion matter?" she countered, then smiled faintly to show that she was joking. Josh finished talking to the woman behind the desk and started to walk back to the two agents. Mulder spoke quickly. "Please Scully? Will you do it?" Scully sighed. "Okay, I'll do it." "Agents," Josh said, arriving next to them. "You need to show your clearance papers at the desk over there. They'll be signed, and you can go about your business." He waved a hand at the woman behind the desk. Mulder looked at Scully again, and nodded to her briefly. His eyes shined thanks as she walked to the reception desk. "Can I see your clearance papers and your identification?" the woman behind the desk asked. Scully handed her the papers for herself and Mulder, and her FBI wallet identification. "Sir? Your identification, please?" the woman asked over Scully's shoulder at Mulder. "Oh, yeah," he muttered to himself as he passed the wallet identification over to the woman. He stood back and tapped his feet impatiently. Josh watched him, amused. "Boy, you really love your work, don't you?" he asked. "I've never seen somebody so eager to view a dead man before." Mulder leaned over and spoke in a low voice. "If it helps uncover what is really going on here...." "Mulder, Josh, let's go. They're ready for us," Scully said, turning away from the receptionist. "Okay," Josh replied. He steered Mulder and Scully down another flight of stairs. He looked around him, then spoke quietly. "I know that you have written approval to be here, but I would still be careful about who you talk to. I'm actually suprised that no one has questioned your right to be here. I was sure, and Nicky was sure, that you were going to be stopped at the gate. Just be careful. This place is bugged with the best of them." Mulder exchanged a look with Scully. Doubt flashed in her eyes as she looked him a question. Mulder replied by gently and briefly resting his hand on her shoulder. Scully hadn't needed to voice her question. Mulder knew what she was thinking. His paranoid danger sensors had picked it up too. Would they be kicked out before they got there answers? Would they lose their jobs, and have the truth that they so desperately needed to find, yanked out from under them? Mulder shook his head slightly, and kept walking. There was only one way to find out. * * * * They journeyed down the labyrinth of passaged under the surface of the base. Flights of cold grey concrete stairs took them deeper and deeper away from officious eyes, away from the men above who sort to cover the truth that needed to be proved, before it happened again. Scully listened to her heels click-clacking on the stairs. Josh led them down another hall, and she spoke. "Josh, why are the bodies down so far from the rest of the building?" "Most people won't go near them, Agent Scully. The second pilot, it....it gave off this awful smell. And it started to decompose, almost as soon as we removed it from the craft. Some of the guys who recovered the body said they got it into a fridge before it disintegrated any more." "Where's the wreckage?" Mulder asked. "It's down here too. The mechanics and engineers are still going over it, trying to determine why it crashed. And....where it exactly came from." They rounded the last corner, and stopped in from of a large metal door, painted olive green that was peeling in some places. A large imposing sign warned "Authorized Personnel Only". Josh opened the door, and ushered Mulder and Scully inside. He indicated a stainless steel table, where a body covered by a starched white sheet lay. "There's the lucky guy," Josh said, pain registering in his eyes for a second. "Uh, there are instruments and equipment in the drawers beneath the table. There's also a call button next to the medicine cabinet. The receptionist has been instructed to inform me if you call." "Thankyou very much for this, Josh. You've been a great help. Thank Nick for us to," Mulder said, holding his hand out to Josh. He shook it quickly, and nodded to Scully. "Pleasure meeting you," Josh replied, and ducked out the door, shutting it behind him. Scully turned to the body laying on the metal table. "Well, let's get this over with," she said to Mulder. She looked at him and noted the look of discomfort on his face. "You okay, Mulder? You can wait outside if you want." Mulder swallowed, and nodded at Scully. "I'm fine. Autopsy jitters." "Okay." Scully eyed the crisp white sheet covering the body, then brushed her hands on the lab coat Josh had handed her before. She picked up the corners of the sheet and pulled it back. Mulder observed this with the standard butterfly collection loose in his stomach. He had been present at many of the autopsies that Scully had performed. He had always been amazed at how Scully remained so detached from what she was actually doing, that the....*thing* before her used to be a living breathing person, but she was able to block that from her mind. The pilot looked to be only twenty, judging by the soft young curves of his face. His black hair was cut in a stiff brush cut. The skin under his eyes, around his nose, and his lips was a grey-blue colour. Mulder noticed for the first time that this room was a lot colder than the halls which they had walked down. Scully had noticed it to, because she shuddered slightly, rolling her shoulders back. "Well, Mulder, externally, he doesn't seemed to have suffered any major trauma. I'm actually surprised, for someone that was involved in an aircraft accident, he isn't very banged up." She gestured to the corpse's shoulder, where a large purple bruise spread over the shoulder, and down the arm. "This seems to be the worst of his external injuries, the only other ones are some minor abrasions, no doubt caused by the victim's body scraping across the ground when he impacted." Scully lifted each of the eyelids, inspecting the eye underneath. "Victim has blue eyes, nothing seem out of the ordinary." She rotated the corpse's head ninety degrees either side. "Ears seem okay, no rupturing in the eardrum or in the inner ear." Scully paused and looked at Mulder. "I think we need to take some blood, though. Danny could test it and see if we are missing anything." "What about an internal examination?" Mulder asked. "I will be conducting one, but if the inside of him shows what the outside does, which is not very much, then this autopsy will be pretty useless." Scully turned back at the body, eyeing it for a second, and then back to Mulder. Mulder nodded thoughtfully. "That must be why we got into the base so easily. They knew we wouldn't find anything on this guy, so they let us examine him, we'd find nothing, and we would leave." "Well, if that was the case, and I *cannot* believe I am even consenting to this, we are going to have to see that other body." Scully sighed and looked at Mulder pointedly. "Since you seem to have all the answers, how should we go about it?" "I had a look as we came down the stairs. There are only three other rooms on this floor, so I am pretty sure that we won't have any trouble finding it. It's just trying to get past the Collins employees." "What if the rooms are locked?" Scully asked. Mulder reached into the depths of his coat and brought out his hand with a flourish. "I brought my lockpick with me this morning. Don't you have yours?" "Well, yes....but I wanted to see if you had thought of it first." She smiled at him, and Mulder obliged her with one of his own. "Okay, why don't you take some blood from this pilot, while I see if I can unlock these rooms?" Mulder suggested, twirling the lockpick in his hand. "Also uh, Mulder, I wanted to get a sample for the Gunmen to take a look at. Danny can only do so much, because he only looks for so much. The Gunmen may be able to find some things that conventional tests won't pick up." "That's probably a good idea. Okay. I'll be back in a sec." He slipped out. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. Read on, intrepid fan fic lovers. 11/16 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE SATURDAY, 12:08PM Scully carefully slid the hypodermic needle into the arm of the Collins pilot. The dark blood flowed into the capsule attached to the needle. When it was full, she removed it and capped the vial. She examined it quickly under the light in the room, to make sure there were no physical anomalies, before pocketing it along with the other one. Scully wiped her hands on the lab coat again, then picked up a scalpel from the drawer. She took a deep breath and started to make the Y-incision. * * * * Mulder inserted his lockpick in the door nearest to the one that contained the Collins pilot. He held his breath as the lock gave a sharp click, signaling that it was unlocked. He pulled the pick out, and turned the handle, pushing the door open. He let out the breath he had been holding when he saw that the room was dark. He ran his hand over the wall next to the door frame, clicking on the overhead light. He inspected the room before him. The room had the same basic layout as the one he had left Scully in. A large stainless steel table took up centre stage in the room. The walls were lined with green painted wooden medicine cabinets, with dirty mirrors on the doors. Mulder took a few steps in, running his hands across the polished metal of the table. He went to the medicine cabinet, and opened the first few doors. Empty shelves greeted him. Mulder turned back around and scanned the room again. He walked back to the light switch and flipped it off. "Let's see what's behind Door Number Two," he murmered as he closed the door. * * * * After propping open the chest cavity of the dead pilot and taking a general inventory of the organs, Scully began methodically removing each organ and weighing each on the set of electronic medical scales she had found in the cupboard below the steel examining table. She recorded the weight of each organ on a clipboard she had with her, and removed small pieces of tissue from a few of the organs, placing them in seperate vials, and some of the soft tissues under the skin to give to The Lone Gunmen and to Danny for further tests. The whole process was tedious and ongoing. From her observations, Scully had not found any physical anomalies. But then again, she didn't think she would. The organs were all intact, and healthy, with nothing to suggest otherwise. Scully pulled off the blood-stained gloves she was wearing and replaced them with a fresh pair. She turned on the Stryker saw and lowered it to the pilot's skull. With an ear-splitting whine, the saw cut a neat circle through the dead boy's skull. Carefully slicing with her scalpel, she severed a few tendons, and lifted the brain from the skull. * * * * Two rooms down, and Mulder began to think whether the Collins personnel had kept the wreckage of the aircrafts and the other body of the pilot. Why would they have kept damning evidence at the base where a pair of FBU agents could get to it? There was also something suspicious about how they got onto the base in the first place. It had been *way* too easy for them to get through the gate and down underground without somebody questioning them. Mulder began to wonder who's wheels Danny had *really* greased. He smiled to himself and his notions. He really was paranoid. The third room he came across was tucked away in a wall that had been set inwards from the rest. It also had a sign warning potential visitors that it was for authorized Collins personnel only. Mulder tried the door with his hand first, then pulled the lockpick out of his pocket when his hands failed. He deftly slipped it into the lock and jiggled it, then quietly withdrew it and opened the door. Mulder quickly banished the dark from the room when he turned on the light. The room was a lot bigger than the previous ones, with very good reason. In the centre, instead of a stainless steel medical table, sat a large blue waterproof tarpaulin, spread on the floor. On it, rested the remains of a craft Mulder recognised all too well. He had seen something similar before, at the bottom of Great Sacandaga Lake, and photographs sent in files by anonymous informants. Mulder held his breath and stepped further into the room. He quietly and carefully shut the door behind him, and kneeled on the floor next to the craft. The wreckage was black in colour, it's edges smooth and streamlined. It radiated a faint, cold light, even though it was clear that the wreck was no longer in service. Mulder leaned over and brushed his fingertips along it's surface, and drew his hand back quickly. It was cold to the touch, but it could've had something to do with the chill in the room, like the one he had left Scully in. Scully. She had to come in and see this. This was evidence even she couldn't possibly discount. It was all here. They're questions answered. Mulder stood up and went back out the door. He closed the room up again, careful not to make too much noise. The last thing he needed to do was create attention to himself and to Scully by alerting the guards that what he was doing was not part of why he was officially here. Checking the halls for guards, Mulder made his way back to where Scully was situated. She was gonna *love* this. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 12/16 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE SATURDAY, 1:16PM Scully sutured the last of the incisions she had made on the Collins pilot, and threw the instruments in the small sink at the back of the room. The sickly sweet smell of the disinfectant hung in the air like a heady mist. She stripped off the rubber gloves, and shucked out of the lab coat, hanging it on a hook rail near the door. She covered the pilot with the sheet, and picked up the clipboard. She double-checked all her findings, then placed it back on the bench alongside the blood and tissue samples she had taken. A sharp knock at the door sounded. Scully's heart started to pound. This was the last thing that she needed. Her ass in a sling. Well, at least she had finished the autopsy.... "Scully, it's me, open the door," Mulder said as quietly as he could. He knocked again. Scully took a deep breath and willed her knees to stop shaking. She walked quickly across the room, and opened the door. "Jesus, Mulder, you scared the crap out if me," Scully said, leaning on the door. Her heart was still pounding. She tried not to pay any attention to it, and instead concentrated on Mulder's eyes. She was puzzled by the way they shone with pure excitement. He smiled broadly. "Boy, have I got something to show you," he said happily. He looked around her, at the now covered body of the pilot. "You finished?" "Yeah, just have to courier these blood and tissue samples to the Bureau and the Gunmen. We need to call both tonight and let them know I'm sending them these." "What did you find?" Mulder asked, stepping aside to let Scully out. Scully gestured for Mulder to lean in closer so she could talk to him. "There was nothing that suggests that he encountered an alien craft. I didn't expect to find anything relating him to some form of alien phenomena anyway. I mean, neither Nick nor Josh mentioned a loss of nine minutes when the crafts supposedly crashed. He...well, he looked like the victim of a plane crash. I checked him internally, and he suffered three broken ribs, one of which seriously punctured his lung. Again, I expected this. There is nothing out of the ordinary. I don't think the blood and tissue samples will tell us much either." Scully sighed and handed him the clipboard. "This is everything I did, all the notes I took. I checked this man inside and out. He had nothing. Zip." Mulder took the offered clipboard and skimmed Scully's handwriting before handing it back. "What are you going to do with this?" "Well, I'm going to hand it in at the front desk that we passed. I made a copy of it, but I didn't mention on this report that I took some blood and tissue. The copy is in my bag. Now, tell me what you found, because I can see that you can't contain yourself any longer." She smiled slightly at him. "Well, what I have to show you resides just down here," he replied, beckoning her to follow him. Scully shook her head at him and followed him down the hall to a door set into a section of the concrete wall that sat inwards from the rest. Mulder opened the door and flipped on the light. "Take a look at this," Mulder said, gesturing the remains of the wreck on the floor. "Seems Collins are right up there, technology speaking." Scully stepped into the room and kneeled next to the large blue tarpaulin. A mass of twisted metal, that had obviously already been sorted into some sort of order, lay stretched out. Scully reached out a hand and picked up one of the smallest pieces and brought it closer to her face to inspect it more thoroughly. It was black in colour, and cold to the touch. She rubbed her fingertip along one of the smooth edges, then looked at a large portion of the wreckage that looked like the reminants of a wing. The designer had been a master. The wing was amazingly streamlined. She placed a hand under one edge and lifted the piece of metal. She marveled at how light it was. She could easily lift the wing with one hand. "So," Mulder asked, still standing at the door. "What do you think?" "Mulder, this is amazing. This metal is so light! I wouldn't be surprised if this could float on water. Where did it come from?" "Someplace far far away," Mulder said. "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't think you can mine an ore and smelt it to get this metal. Do you recognise it at all?" "It's a light metal, very smooth. It's almost slick, like oil. There are only a few metals that are this light. I think this could very easily float on water, in which case it would be revolutionary in the use of commercial airliners." She considered the small piece she had picked up before. "I don't think know where this metal came from. I think you're right. This metal isn't something that you can find in nature." She paused. "It could possibly a combination of metals, but I couldn't even begin to tell you what." She fingered the piece again. "I think I'll give this to Danny as well. He might know someone who can take a look at it." "You know, Frohike would love to see something like this. So would the others. And Frohike was saying to me just the other night how he hasn't seen you in ages...." Mulder grinned mischieviously. "Alright, I'll call the Gunmen tonight. But I want Danny to run some basic tests on it as well. We should cover all our bases." Mulder stood up, leaving Scully still kneeling at the mysterious craft. He wandered down the back of the room and around a corner. Another blue tarpaulin covered with a mass of contorted metal greeted him. But there was something slightly different than the one he had left Scully at. "Scully, come take a look at this," he said, as loud as he dared. He listened as her heels clicked on the concrete floor and she came around the corner. "Another craft," she said unecessarily. "Did the Collins personnel keep the one from Tuesday night as well?" "No, this is different," Mulder replied, kneeling. He picked up a piece of the metal and turned it over in his hands. He handed it to Scully. "Tell me how many differences you can find between this and the other one." Scully accepted the piece from Mulder and rotated it in her hands. Mulder was correct. It *was* different from the other craft. This metal was a lot heavier, and wasn't quite so cold to the touch. The edges weren't as smooth, and the joins in this metal were a lot more obvious, compared with the virtually invisible joins of the first craft. "Here's the wing, Scully," Mulder said, interrupting her thoughts. He gestured with his hand at a large piece similar in shape to the first craft. "See if you can lift it with one hand." Scully put down the smaller bit and placed her hand under the wing. She tensed her hand and arm, the tried to lift it. It came about an inch off the ground before it slipped and crashed back onto the floor. She just missed her hand being caught under the piece of metal. "A lot heavier, isn't it?" Mulder asked. He looked at her hand. "Are you okay, did it get you?" "No, it just missed me. So Mulder, what's your theory? I'm sure you have one by now. What does this pile of metal represent to you?" Mulder paused as he considered the metal again before answering. "Well, this pile of metal here is of a human design." He picked up a piece and titlted it in the fluroescent light so she could see it. "Mainly because of this serial number," he continued, tracing it with his finger, "and the name underneath." He tilted it again, the light from overhead reflecting on a name under the number. "Iron Horse," Scully murmered. "What does that mean?" "I think it's probably the call sign of the pilot." Scully raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. "Hey, you had a military upbringing." "Navy, Mulder, it's a little different. Unusual name though...but I suppose eventually everyone needs something a little different than 'Maverick'." She ran her hand over the name again. "But if it isn't a call sign, then it might pay to find out what it does mean." "Well, we'll take a bit of this metal too, and get it analyzed." Mulder stooped to get a small bit, and handed it to Scully. "Danny's gonna have a field day with this. He'll think all his Christmases have come at once." "More likely he is going to feel like a lab rat, by the time we're done with him." Scully replied, removing two vials from her pocket and placing each piece in a seperate one. "How come you have so many vials on you, Scully?" Mulder asked, his eyebrows slightly raised. "That's got to be, what....six now that you have put evidence in?" "Six years together, Mulder. I always come prepared for everything." "Everything?" he leered at her. "If you're suggesting...." "I'm not suggesting anything. I would say you have an overactive and dirty imagination." He smiled slightly at her, but his eyes glittered dangerously. "Mulder, are we going to snoop around a little more? There are some morgue freezers in the back of the room, and a table. Let's see if the pilots of your 'alien' craft are there." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and strode to the back of the room. "Scully, you don't believe there is a logical explanation for this, do you?" Mulder asked, starting after her. "Mulder, I'm not forming any conclusions until I have seen the bodies of the pilot's flying these craft, and I have the results of the metal analysis. Until then, I will keep a....fairly open mind as to what is going on here." Scully pulled a drawer open under the table and removed a pair of rubber sugical gloves, snapping them on. She gripped the steel handle of the freezer, and pulled it open. Frost curled out of the open door, quickly dissapating in the air. Scully bent down and took hold of the metal tray that a black zippered body bag was resting on. She pulled it out, and gestured to Mulder. "Help me lift the bag on the examining table." Mulder hesitated. "Look Mulder, the person is dead. They won't bite you." Mulder grimaced and took hold of the body's feet and helped Scully place it on the table. He let go of the feet as soon as Scully had put her end down and wiped his hands quickly on his jacket. He looked at the bag. Frost from the freezer clung to the zipper and the folds in the black, heavy duty plastic. "The iceman cometh," he muttered to himself, as Scully began to busy herself with medical instruments. She laid several scalpels and other blades and clamps, and took hold of the zipper, ready to open the bag. She looked at him. "Mulder, you look like you are going to throw up." Her eyes registered concern as she paused to regard him. "If you want, you could wait outside while I do this, and you can come back when I'm finished." Mulder shook his head "No, I'll stay. I have a good idea what we're going to find. Go on," he said, waving at the bag. "Open it up." Scully looked at him again, a mix of indecision and suspicion on her face. She took hold of the zipper, and pulled it down. Mulder knew immediately when he saw the look on her face that they were dealing with something that couldn't be programmed, catigorized or easily referenced. Her eyes widened slightly, and her jaw dropped about an inch. She looked at him, asking a question with her eyes. "Let me see," Mulder replied, leaning forward. Scully pulled back the sides on the bag, showing him what had left her speechless. As Mulder peered inside the bag, Scully unzipped it the rest of the way, opening the bag right up. Inside, a body rested. Probably no more than four and a half feet tall, it's skin was grey in colour, and slightly puckered in places, due to the low temperature in the freezer. It had large oblique black eyes, that looked as smooth as polished ebony. Mulder touched one of it's arms, taking note of the long tapered fingers, four on each hand. "Oh, Mulder," Scully said, her voice strained. He looked up to see her shaking slightly, her face pale. She reached out a gloved finger, and touched the creature gently, as if afraid to wake it from it's eternal sleep. She looked at Mulder, her eyes wide, the fluttering wings of fear beginning to settle in. She looked down and exhaled a breath she must have been holding for an eternity, and tried to compose herself. She looked back up at him. "You knew this was what we would find, isn't it." It was a statement, not a question. Mulder hesitated before answering. "Yeah, I had a pretty good idea. Listen, Scully, you may want to find some more protective gear if you still want to examine it. If this is really what we think it is...." "We, Mulder?" He held up his hand and continued. "The blood is toxic, and it won't last long out of the freezer, so we need to get going now." "Okay," Scully said. She knelt on the floor and pulled out another drawer in the bottom of the table. She rummaged, then pulled out a surgical mask. "This is about the best they've got here, Mulder." She dug around a little more. "No, wait," she said, throwing something on the top of the table. "This looks a little better. It will certainly offer me more protection." Mulder leaned over and saw she had found a small respirator, the kind used by gardeners when they were spraying chemicals. She stood up and handed it to him. "Can you please help me put it on, Mulder?" she asked sweetly. Mulder came behind her and carefully fixed the mask over her hair. He smiled at her appearence. "We could start a trend, Agent Scully," he said, and dodged Scully's attempt at elbowing him in the ribs. "Mulder you should wear that surgical mask. If it is as toxic as you say, then you need at least a little protection." Scully pushed the mask across the table and put her hand behind the head of the creature, lifting it off the table. With her other hand, she smoothly pulled the body bag from underneath it, and lay it back on the tray in the freezer. She rested the body back on the table, and picked up a scalpel. Mulder held his breath as Scully began to make a Y-incision on the body. The grey-green skin retracted from the blade easily, and Scully's scalpel slid along and through the skin as if it was made of butter. She completed the incision, and set to work cutting the rib cage. * * * * Josh Newhart paced the concrete floor near the receptionist's office. What was taking those agents so long? They only had to autopsy a body, no big deal. What were they doing down there? Josh's thoughts were interrupted when the sound of many pairs of booted feet began to thump down the concrete stairs that led to the first floor. Three men dressed in camoflague uniforms and shouldering some wicked looking rifles rounded the corner and stopped in front of Josh. Behind them, Colonel McKenzie hovered for a few seconds before coming into view. "Lieutenant Newhart, is it?" McKenzie asked. His henchmen spread out, covering Josh on all sides in case he decided to run and try to save his own ass. Josh tensed slightly at the proximity of the men, and they tensed with him, the rifles held ready to use in a second. McKenzie waved at the men and chuckled. "At ease, gentlemen," he said. "I don't think Lieutenant Newhart is ready to make a fatal career mistake just yet, are you son?" He smiled patronizingly at him. "Now, Lieutenant, I have an important question to ask of you. Earlier this mornig, two FBI agents gained authorization to enter this base and examine the body of our dead pilot from yesterday. Now, I have only just been informed of this, apparently, their papers weren't questioned. Now, Lieutenant, I need you to tell me where the agents are. They have no official business here, and are to be reprimanded for their actions. I understand that you were designated to show them around, and take them to the underground examining rooms? Is this true?" Josh nodded slowly. His mind rang with one word: busted. "I thought so. Now, Lieutenant, if you are willing to show me where the agents are right now, I am prepared to let this incident slide....this time. No mention of this will go on your permenant record. Understood?" Josh swallowed several times before answering. "Yes, sir," he replied meekly. "They're right this way." Josh turned and started down the hall. The men followed at his heels, their rifles cocked, the men ready to exercise their use. Josh whispered a quiet prayer to himself as he led the men underground. "Please let them get out alive." XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimer, etc. 13/16 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE SATURDAY, 2:45PM Scully laid the scalpel on the table, and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Beside her, Mulder stared blankly at the remains of the creature before them. "Uh, Scully, do you want to take some samples for the guys to take a look at? They, uh, they'd probably be interested in seeing something like this." Scully nodded slowly. She was exhausted. This whole E.B.E thing had been taxing on her strength, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. But not yet. They needed their answers first. Scully lifted the scalpel and began making a few slices. She removed some of the soft tissue from under the skin of the creature, and deposited it in another one of the small glass vials she had with her. She pocketed it, and was about to start suturing the incisions she had made on the creature, when Mulder stopped her. "Scully, wait," he whispered softly, resting his hand gently on her arm. "Did you hear that?" "What?" she whispered back. He walked away from her, across the room toward the door. He listened carefully, and heard it again. Footsteps. He hurried back across the room, and gestured widly to the body on the table. "Scully, hurry up and cover the body. I think we have company." Scully's eyes widened slightly. She suddenly felt very awake. "How far away are they?" she asked, hastily dropping the instruments in the drawers of the table. She didn't have time to even wash them correctly. "I don't know, but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not be here when they are," he replied. He drew the sheet up and over the body on table. "We don't have time to put it away. Let's just hope that they don't know what it is." He listened carefully, hearing the scuffle of feet on the concrete floor, and the opening of one of the other doors down the hall. Mulder took Scully's arm, and moved back further in the room, ducking around the corner. "Mulder, we're sitting ducks here if we don't get out now," Scully whispered. By chance, she looked over Mulder's shoulder, and spied a door marked "Cold Storage". She turned Mulder around and pointed him in the direction of the room. "Mulder, in there," she murmered to him. The door to their room suddenly opened. Mulder grabbed Scully's arm and pulled her towards the cold storage room. He yanked it open, and pushed Scully inside, quietly closing the door behind them. Scully shivered at the sudden sharp drop in temperature. Shelves lined the walls of the cold storage room and gurneys sat at the entrance, off to the side. Outside, they could hear people moving around the room, no efforts being made to conceal their prescence. Mulder took hold of Scully's arm again as one of the men strayed close to the door of the storage room. Mulder squinted through the small window at the men in the other room. "Scully, quick," he said urgently. He turned her in the direction of the gurneys at the back. "We have to hide under these." Moving quickly, he made sure she was concealed as best as possible under one of the gurneys, and his himself under one. For Scully, it was becoming uncannily like the time she had hid herself from General McAddie and his henchmen in Bethesda Naval Hospital. Scully's reminisce was interrupted when the men burst into the cold storage room. Scully hunched down further under the gurney, saying a silent prayer. She willed the men to just turn around, to leave, and pretend that she and Mulder hadn't been there. The men stood for what seemed like an eternity before walking back out of the room. Scully could hear their slightly muffled conversation behind the door. "The aren't in there," one of them was saying. There was a pause. Another voice. "Perhaps they got out before we came down to see them." "That doesn't make sense," another voice answered. Scully recognised it as Josh Newhart. Her mind seethed, and she had the urge to throttle him. The bastard must have blown the whistle. Another voice spoke, and Scully had the sudden urge to not only throttle Josh, but violate his gravesite. "Keep an eye out for them upstairs," McKenzie said. There was another pause. "They can't have possible gotten far. These underground rooms are like a maze for newcomers." Footsteps sounded again, and their talking got fainter. There was a door slam, and the room went quiet. Scully strained her ears to make sure they were gone before squeezing herself out from under the gurney. Mulder followed suit. "Are you alright?" he asked, brushing off his jacket. Scully nodded and edged towards the small window of the cold storage room. She peered out at the room. "They aren't there," she said softly. "And I can't hear them." Mulder came up behind her and carefully and quietly opened the door. Scully moved forward, her gun in her hand. She nodded to him and slipped out the door, her gun raised. "I got your back," Mulder called softly after her. He raised his own gun and followed her out. The room looked untouched. It was as if the men hadn't been there. The body Scully had autopsied was still covered on the metal table, and the tools she had hastily thrown in the bottom drawer still rested there, undisturbed. The wreckage on the tarpaulins still lay on the floor, and the door to the room was shut again. Scully scanned the room and holstered her weapon. She turned to look at Mulder. He had holstered his gun, and was pulling the sheet back on the creature again. He winced at the open chest cavity of the body. Scully walked over to him, and he spoke, his eyes still fixated on the corpse. "What do you make of it, Scully?" A pause hung in the air as Scully thought about how to answer him. "Um....I don't know what to think. This thing....whatever it is....I can't explain it. I'd rather not explain it. I wish I'd never laid eyes on it, let alone performed a medical examination." "You got the tissue samples, right?" Mulder asked. Scully patted the pocket of her jacket. "Yeah, right here. I should get to work suturing the incisions I made, then we should get out of here as soon as we can." "We have to figure out a way to get passed McKenzie's henchmen, Scully," Mulder replied. He thought for a moment. "Unless....we just walk up, hand the report to whoever is up there, and tell them that we are leaving." "Mulder, we should be praying for a miracle. McKenzie was pissed when he came down here. Josh told them we were here. And they're guarding the exits as we speak." "You got a better idea?" Mulder asked, his fingers worrying the corner of the white sheet. "Just think about this, if we don't get out of here, we are in big trouble." She said this in a resigned voice. It was the voice of one that was defeated. "McKenzie and his pals will place us under military arrest, and Skinner will sign our final paychecks." She looked at him briefly, then went back to suturing the incisions made on the dead creature before her. Mulder opened his mouth to speak again, but thought better. Staying silent, he walked to one of the large metal filing cabinets, yanking open the first drawer he saw. "Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully asked, her eyes still concentrating on the job at hand. He looked up. "Well, if we are going to be placed under military arrest, I want to know enough info about Collins so that the Gunmen have something to go on. Who knows, maybe Skinner will give them a job." The thought made him smile. The Lone Gunmen in a position of authority. In fact, the thought was enough to make him want to.... "Mulder, why are you laughing?" Scully asked, finally looking up from her work. Mulder smiled broadly at her, and chuckled again. "I was just thinking of Frohike in a trenchcoat." Scully cut the thread, finishing the last of her stitches. She dumped the medical instruments into the sink, then pulled the black body bag out of the freezer. She called out to Mulder, laying the bag next to the creature. "Mulder, can you help me put this thing back in the freezer?" Mulder put down a file he was looking at from the cabinet and came over to assist Scully. Together, they slipped it back in the bag, and put it back in the freezer. Scully pulled the latex gloves off and threw them in the surgical bin bolted against the wall. Mulder went back to the filing cabinet, and picked up the manila file he had been reading before. Scully came over an looked around him at the contents of the file. A line graph currently held Mulder's attention. At the top, was the large letters spelling 'Iron Horse'. Scully pointed at the title. "Same as the plane," she said, drawing Mulder's gaze up. "What's this graph represent, Mulder?" He traced some of the lines. "From what I've read, it's cataloguing an experiment called 'Iron Horse'. That's what the bulk of the folder is filled with, but there are some pages at the back devoted to the development of the "Dancing Butterflies', state-of-the-art military aircraft based on alien design." "Okay, so what is 'Iron Horse'?" Scully asked. "I don't know," Mulder answered, flipping further. "It doesn't say. There's just more graphs, pages of scribbled notes, memos....some with McKenzie's name on them, uh....and some blueprints of the craft that we have seen. But these look different from the lighter one we saw before. Remember how the seams on the first one were invisible?" he asked. Scully nodded. "Well, these ones again have obvious joins, and their overall design....I don't know, they just seem man-made, somehow." Mulder closed the file folder. "Um....I think we need to borrow this. I want the Gunmen to take a look at it. We can courier it along with the tissue samples we collected today." "Well, unless we get moving now, we aren't going to have anything to courier to anybody," Scully answered. She picked up the clipboard with the notes made on the autopsy of the Collins pilot, and gestured to the door. "Let's go now, before we end up taking something that won't fit through the door." Mulder chuckled and tucked the folder inside his jacket. "It should stay okay, so long as I don't move about too much," he said, adjusting it slightly, so that it was almost impossible to see. He followed Scully to the door, and she clicked the button on the back of the doorknob to lock the room back up. Moving quickly and quietly, they walked as casually as possible up the concrete flights of stairs to the second level. They rounded the last corner, and almost slammed into a guard. "Ah, Agents Mulder and Scully." McKenzie heard the guard speak, and he looked up from where he was sitting, focusing his brown eyes on them. His mouth quirked in a dangerous smile. "So nice of you to finally surface from the underground rooms." He stood and walked slowly over to them. Other men flanked Mulder and Scully at either side, sleek black rifles slung over their shoulders. McKenzie cleared his throat and continued. "I trust that you have finished the autopsy on our pilot?" Scully sighed and produced the clipboard on which she had scribbled her findings. McKenzie took it and methodically read through her notes. He spoke, his voice slightly triumphant. "So, there was nothing suspicious in your findings, Agent Scully? Everything was in order? His parents are anxious to lay the poor boy to rest." Scully nodded. "There was nothing to indicate that the pilot died in any way other than uh, and unfortunate accident." McKenzie handed the clipboard to one of his cohorts and smiled again. "Well, I want to thank the two of you. You have saved my medical examiners some time, and they were able to focus on more....urgent matters. Would you like someone to show you the way out?" Mulder's mind began to run at hyperspeed as he scanned the words of the colonel for invisible threats. Something was up. McKenzie was being *way* too nice to two FBI agents who had just about broken every rule in the military handbook. Mulder coughed and tried his best to look nonchalant. "No, we have no other business here. Uh, we'll make our own way out." He took a hold of Scully's arm, and pulled her towards the concrete stairs leading up to the top. "Let's go, Scully, before they change their mind," he murmered in her ear. "Thankyou again, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully," McKenzie called after them. He turned to his men and spoke. "Please prepare the underground rooms for use tonight. Inform the medical team that we have a situation, and the recovery team that their services will be of use tonight. Tell the groups to wait outside my office, and I will be with them to discuss what we are going to do about our friends in the FBI." "Yes sir!" the men responded. They turned sharply and marched off. McKenzie smiled to himself. When he was finished with the FBI agents, they were going to wish they'd *never* laid eyes on the E.B.E hidden away from prying eyes in the underground buildings of the Collins Air Force Base. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 14/16 BLUE CROWN MOTOR INN SATURDAY, 7:55PM After a shower and another review of her notes, Scully picked up her cell phone and punched in the number for the Lone Gunmen's hideout. Langly answered, and he sounded a little flustered. "Yes, hello?" he said, a hint of impatience coating his words. "Langly, it's Scully here. Is everything alright?" "Oh, yeah. We're working overtime. Seems all the military watchdog groups has something to call in, tonight of all nights. Byers and Frohike are combing through the hundreds of e-mails that we have received, and I'm trying to get our latest issue into some sort of order before we start mailing." "Well, if I've called at a bad time, I can call back," Scully said. Mulder stood at the door to her room, and she waved him in. "It's just that Mulder and I have some stuff we wanted your opinion on." "Oh, we always have time for you and Mulder. What's up?" "Can you possibly get the others to listen to this? I want their input too." "Okay. I can put you on speaker, how's that? Don't worry, our phone is as safe as houses." A button clicked, and Scully heard Langly call the others over. "Hey, guys, Mulder and Scully have got some stuff for us." There was a scuffling sound, and Frohike spoke. "Ah, Mulder and Scully. So where are you this time? And how can we help save innocent civilians from the dark and mysterious workings of the shadow government?" Scully angled the phone so that Mulder could hear too, and he chuckled. "Actually, Frohike, we're in Nebraska," he said. "Some farmer reported crop circles in the middle of his cornfield?" Frohike cracked. Somewhere off to the side, the guys groaned, and he laughed. "Sorry. Quite a few groups have been reporting crop circles lately." Scully rolled her eyes and shot Mulder a pointed look. "Believe me, Frohike, I would have much preferred it to be a case of crop circles. Unfortunately, it hasn't turned out that way." Scully picked up the copy of the autopst report on the Collins pilot and continued. "We need to know the buzz you guys hear on Collins Air Force Base. We're dealing with an aircraft crash that has a possible extraterrestrial connection, and a project the base is running called 'Iron Horse'." Byers took over. "'Iron Horse' is a project that has been running at Collins for about a year now. It's a ultra secret, extremely technological antennae system that Collins erected in the hope of making contact with intelligent races outside our solar system. It also includes on the side a designing outfit, that is in the process of developing state of the art military aircraft." Mulder spoke. "Well, they haven't been having much luck apparently. Collins have had two seperate accidents on their base. Last Tuesday, an unidentifiable aircraft crashed onto the base. As a result, the man who witnessed it is in danger of losing his job....all in the name of a coverup. The second incident was early this morning, around 4 o'clock. Only this time, the craft clipped one of the Collins planes that was out on a test flight. Both it and the unidentified craft went down. We've managed to look at the craft, and the pilot flying it, and we have some samples to courier to you." "How did you guys manage to see it?" Langly asked, a tinge of awe in his voice. "Collins has a rigorus screening program. They practically check you back to when your great-grandfather was in the war." "We had a contact put in a good word, but I personally don't think that it is just that," Scully answered. "We by all rights should be under military arrest. Mulder and I saw the pilot of the unidentified craft, as well as the wreckage it flew in on." She paused. Mulder could see her discomfort and continued for her. "The pilot was of definate extraterrestrial origin," he said. "And so was the craft." The other end went silent. "Guys? Guys, are you there?" Mulder asked, tapping Scully's cell phone with a finger. "Yeah, Mulder, we're still here. This is big," Byers said. There was a pause and a shuffling of papers. "What did you get from Collins?" Scully answered him. "We got tissue samples and an autopsy report from the Collins pilot. There was nothing abnormal there. We also got samples of the metal used to make the Collins craft and the unidentified craft, and some tissue samples from the uh...the other creature, and a few notes I made from memory on it as well. And a file with some graphs and statistics on 'Iron Horse', but we read through it and it has nothing really substantial in it." "Well, you did well, that's for sure. What are we getting?" "Metal samples, a sample from the Collins pilot and a copy of the notes, and samples of the creature and a copy of those notes, and the file." "Anything else?" Mulder laughed. "Anything else, and they would have busted us. So tell us, guys, why are these craft crashing at Collins base? And elaborate on 'Iron Horse' for us. This file has nothing in it." Byres stated to say something, but Frohike interrupted him. Mulder could picture Byers and the dirty look he would be giving Frohike. "We did some research on this a few months ago. It may give you some direction." "Well, lay it on me," Mulder replied, impatience creeping into his voice. "Alien tracking systems and so forth are highly sensitive. They are also extremely accurate when it comes to negotiating their way. Much more accurate than anything that even the most advanced of human technology can create. Now, Collins set up this antennea system in the hope of proving or disproving the theory of intelligent life outside of our solar system. It was unofficial....what the media call 'black programs', and money was skimmed from different government budgets, so it isn't registered on any bill submitted to Congress. They apparently got a generous grant from an as yet unidentified source." "Curioser and curioser," Mulder murmered. "Go on." "Based on research from a few of our followers, alien crafts are sensitive to human made radar. That's why when they arrive in our atmosphere, a lot of them end up as wreckage. I think that's what is happening at Collins. The radar that is transmitting these signals into space is being picked up on the E.B.E's systems. They follow the source, arrive in our atmosphere, and....cest la ve." "Well they are endangering lives in the process," Scully said. "This radar has already killed one man." "And has the possibility of killing many more," Langly replied. "If this continues, the alien races could become hostile. There is a great danger that they will start coming to our planet with less....friendly agendas in mind." "So what do we do?" Mulder asked. "There is no way that we can get in there a third time." "The best thing is to probably come back to Washington with those samples. If you can't get back in there, you can possibly expose them from this end." Byers sighed. "This is one of the few cases where you've hit a dead end." Scully sighed and looked Mulder a question. He spoke into the phone. "Scully and I are going to sleep on it. Maybe we can come up with a better idea." Langly broke in. "Please don't do anything stupid. This is one of the most notorious bases when it comes to making unwanted people disappear. They have deadly force and they *love* to use it." "We'll keep it in mind. Meanwhile, in case anything does happen, we are going to courier thse samples to you." Scully felt a sinking in her stomach at his words. She shook it off rapidly. They had to do this. They had to prevent more people from dying. "Hey, Scully? Scully?" She heard Byers saying her name. "Yeah, I'm here. What is it?" "What tests need to be run on the samples?" "Uh, I need a general check on the tissue samples from the Collins pilot, and maybe some of your more obscure tests, just to see if you pick up anything. Um, run whatever tests you would on the uh, E.B.E's flesh, and I need a chemical structure for the metal samples from the wreckage, so we can figure out what exactly it is made from." Mulder felt a small smile spreading onto his face. Scully was handling this shaking of her scientific faith well. She had been a little quiet on the run to the motel in the car, but on the whole, she was handling everything pretty well. "Okay," he could hear Byers saying. "You guys be careful, okay?" "We will," Mulder replied. The phone clicked on the other end, and he pressed "End" on Scully's phone, and handed it to her. "So now what, Doc?" he asked. Scully gathered the bits and pieces and stacked them on the small table in her room. "I think we do just what you said. We'll sleep on it, and make a decision in the morning." "Okay. I had better go, then." Mulder stood up and went to the door. He thought for a second, then turned around again. "Hey, Scully?" "Yeah?" "Thanks, for coming out, and putting up with my insistance to not let this thing drop. I have never really told you....how much I appreciate that." Scully smiled gently at him. "That's okay, Mulder. Anytime." "You liar," he said teasingly. He waved with a finger. "Night." He closed the door. Scully smiled at the closed door, and began pulling her pyjames and her robe out of her suitcase. She could hear the T.V. in Mulder's room. He was probably flicking through the free cable the motel offered until he found the skin channel. Scully walked into the bathroom, dumping her pyjames and toiletries on the bench. She was about to get undressed, when she heard a soft sound in her room. A scuffle. Thinking Mulder had come back to ask for her notes so he could have another look, she walked back into the room to give them to him. As she rounded the corner, she didn't see the dark-clad man lurking just outside the bathroom door. The man raised a wicked looking black club, and brought it savagely down on the back of Scully's head. With a thin cry of pain, she fell to the floor, unconscious. * * * * Mulder flicked through a few more channels with the remote, then threw it down in disgust. For a motel that offered free cable to it's guests, they unfortunately had nothing by way of healthy skin flicks. He might as well turn in. He and Scully had some decisions they needed to make tomorrow on how they were going to pursue the case. Mulder loosened his tie, and began to take off his dress shirt. He stood, thinking about taking a shower, when he heard a click. Three men burst into his room. "What the...?" Mulder said. He was cut off when the closest man landed a blow on the side of his head. He fell to the floor, stunned for a moment, before he regained his senses. He lunged for his holster that he had left on the bed, when a foot caught him under the ribs. He rolled over painfully, unable to breathe. Another blow square on the top of his head, and Mulder slipped into black oblivion. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 15/15 COLLINS AIR FORCE BASE SATURDAY, 11:21PM The light was too bright. Mulder breathed deep and tried to focus his eyes, but it hurt his eyes. Shadows swirled in and out of his view, and Mulder noticed for the first time that he couldn't move his arms and legs. They felt like they weighed a thousand pounds each, and they tingled slightly and the toes and the tips of his fingers. He tried to open his eyes again, but the light wouldn't allow it. He heard a voice float in, but it wasn't addressing him. "What do you want us to do when he comes out of it?" a man said. There was a pause, and a bitter smell filled the air. Mulder realised it was the biting stench of cigarettes. Mulder craned his neck and focused his eyes, and he knew who it was. "Begin the treatment as soon as he comes to," said the Smoking Man. "I only want them to forget. Don't kill them. They're very valuable to us, and a lot of people." "You," Mulder croaked, his voice as scratchy as sandpaper. "Bastard." "Ah, Agent Mulder, you're awake." The Smoking Man walked toward him, taking a drag on his Morley brand cigarette. He looked down on Mulder, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. "Where's Scully?" Mulder croaked again, coughing in an attempt to clear his throat. "She's here. I must confess, she was easier to capture than you were. Just a simple blow to the head, and she was unconscious. She's still unconscious now." "If you hurt her, I swear to God I'll kill you! I'll kill you with my bare hands!" Mulder shouted, swallowing painfully when his throat protested. He gasped for breath, and the hazy figure of the man above him shimmered in and out, causing him to blink furiously to try and clear his vision. "Temper, temper, Mulder. We are just here to make you forget." He took another drag on the cigarette. Behind him, the other man wheeled a tray filled with instruments and needles to the side of the table upon which Mulder lay. "Forget what?" Mulder whispered. "Everything that you have witnessed here, Mulder. The wreckage, the alien corpse, even the body of the human pilot. What you know is dangerous, for your own good as well as ours. We have to take it from you." "I want to see Scully," he asked, his voice vulnerable. A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye. "Where is she?" "You can't see her yet. I promise, you can see her later," the man replied. "You promise? You lying bastard. When have you kept a promise you have made to me? Your promises are nothing!" "Au, contraire, Mulder. I have given you many things. I gave Scully back to you when she was taken. I gave you the cure to her cancer. I have let you keep her this long. What makes you think that I won't keep my promise now?" "Because you're a lying, manipulative bastard! What about my sister? What about that promise? You never kept that one. You've let me see fragments, but never the whole thing. Why? What did I do?" But the man wouldn't answer his frantic pleas. He gestured to the doctor who was holding a needle connected to an intravenous drip. The doctor swabbed the back of Mulder's hand with alcohol, and connected the drip to him. "Be sure to restrain him," the Smoking man warned, then nodded to Mulder. "Pleasent dreams, Agent Mulder. When you awake, you won't remember anything." He smiled coldly, and left the room. The doctor fiddled with the drip in Mulder's hand, watching nervously as the Smoking Man left the room. Mulder felt his awareness increasing, and he suddenly became more alert. The haze cleared from his vision, and his thinking processes began to improve. The man watched Mulder for several seconds, before removing his face mask. Josh Newhart peered down at Mulder, a small smile gracing his features. "I have connected you do a protein solution that will combat the affects of the sedative you were given before. Let's hope it works, 'cause this isn't my usual line of work." "Josh, how did you know....?" Mulder asked. He fought a wave of dizziness as the solution pumped into his veins. He blinked, and focused on the man who had saved him. "Don't ask questions, Agent Mulder. I suggest you find your partner, before something drastic happens. These guys show no mercy, believe me." "Where is she?" Mulder asked, coughing, his throat still sore. "I don't know. She should be another one of these rooms. They took your gun, and there isn't anything here...." he trailed off as he looked around the room for a weapon for Mulder to use. He grabbed a scalpel off the tray. "This will have to do, I'm afraid. There's nothing else." Mulder took the scalpel off him, and levered himself off the table. "Thanks, Josh. I know the risk you went to, and I appreciate it." "Hey, you guys were in the right, these men are the ones that are in the wrong." He smiled. "I'm quitting as soon as this is over, and you and Scully are out safely. Go now, and find her, before it's too late." Mulder lifted his hand in farewell, and slipped out the door. Gripping the scalpel in his fingers, ready to use in an instant, he set off to find Scully. * * * * The first thought that occured to Scully when she came to was that the motel bed was really uncomfortable. And it was cold. But that was absurd. They were in Nebraska in the middle of summer. It was supposed to be warm. Sticky, even. Had some freak blizzard blown in? She chided herself for the thought. A blizzard. Please. She tried to move so she could pull the covers over her. But her limbs were dead. She tried to lift them, but they wouldn't budge an inch. And why had somebody left the light on? A figure bent over her. He wore a mask, and held in his hand, small needle connected to a plastic tube feeding into a clear plastic bag filled with solution. "Sir, she's awake." Another figure bent over her. She recognised it as the Cigarette Man. He glowered menacingly at her, and raised a cigarette to his lips. Scully thought frantically, trying to wrack her brain as to what had happened. The Smoking Man seemed to notice her urgency and smiled, amused. "Where's Mulder?" she asked. Her throat felt painfully dry and scratchy. She opened her eyes, focusing on the blurred, murky image of the man smiling a faint knowing smile that frightened her. "Where is he?!" she asked louder, wincing when her throat throbbed painfully. "I want to see him!" "All in good time, Agent Scully." "Why am I here?" Scully murmered. "What happened?" "You've seen to much, Scully. Everything you have observed here at Collins....it must be wiped from your memory. You see, you've become a security risk. The alien body, the wreckage of the planes and such....it all must be taken, so you don't endanger our group and our projects." Scully rolled her head, her neck cracking. She winced again. "What is your project?" she asked, closing her eyes from the bright light that engulfed her. "Our sophisticated antennae system. Communicating with extraterrestrial life outside our own terrestrial sphere." The Smoking Man paused, taking a drag off the Morley cigarette. "Of course, nobody counted on the antennae system interfering with the aliens navigational equipment. As a result, we have had several accidents relating to the system." "So why not shut it down?" Scully croaked. "You do not understand how important this is. The Collins personnel are here to determine once and for all the existence of extraterrestrial life. You just....happened to get in the way." He took a final drag on the cigarette, and dropped it on the floor, extiguishing it with his shoe. He nodded to the doctor, and he promply restrained Scully, and connected the drip to her hand. The Smoking Man smiled enigmatically at Scully. "Goodnight Agent Scully. I'm actually surprised that you believe what you saw today. Goes against your beliefs, does it not?" But she didn't answer. The treatment had begun. Scully's eyes rolled back in her head as the depressant flowed into her system. Her thoughts became disjointed, and her vision began to blur again. Someone was speaking to her from a distance, and something told her the voice was speaking to her subconscious. She felt herself answering, but she couldn't distinguish what she was saying. Her mind and her lips seemed totally independant of each other. Her tongue felt think in her throat, and she began to cough, which quickly escalated into dry heaves. She thrashed on the metal table, a pain beginning in the back of her head and down her spine. She made a gutteral cry, and the blackness engulfed her. * * * * Mulder leaned against the wall as another wave of dizziness caught up with him. His ribs still ached painfully from the blow he had taken, and the small cut on his temple had opened back up, spilling blood down the side of his face. He wiped at it distractedly; it was the least of his worries. Further up the hall, Mulder could see a light on in one of the rooms. Inside, he could hear someone coughing violently, as if in pain, or choking on something. Suddenly it stopped, replaced by silence. Mulder's heart filled with dread. He crept down the hall, brandishing the scalpel in his hand, wiping again at the trickle of blood on the side of his face. He was close now; no more than 5 or 6 paces away from the door. He was close enough to hear the ragged breathing of someone in pain, as if they had participated in a ten-mile marathon, and sprinted all the way. The light shining out from the bottom of the door reminded him of the room he had left Josh in. He took another step, and reached his hand out to touch the cool metal handle of the door. Gripping it tightly in his sweat-slicked palm, he pushed down, and pulled open the door. The doctor was bent over a prone figure on the metal table. He looked up in surprise to see Mulder. He was adjusting a tube he had inserted into the patient's mouth. It was Scully. "Get away from her!" Mulder shouted, holding the scalpel high in the air. The doctor cowered in front of Mulder, his hands covering his face to protect himself. His face was full of fear. "No, please! I was just doing what they asked of me!" The man began to sob loudly, his hands shaking. "Did you hurt her?" Mulder screamed, grabbing the man by the throat and lifting him to his feet. The man didn't respond, and Mulder dropped the scalpel, slapping the man on the face. "Answer me, dammit!" The man noticed that Mulder had dropped the scalpel, and lunged for it, catching Mulder off-guard. Mulder compensated for his carelessness by landing a punch square on the doctor's chin. The man's eyes turned glassy, and he feebly tried to defend himself. Mulder hit him again, and he was out for the count. Mulder disengaged himself from the unconscious form of the doctor, and went to help Scully. A tube was in her mouth, and extended down her throat. Mulder gently undid the flesh-coloured tape holding the tube in place, and carefully removed it. * * * * Scully felt the tube being removed from her mouth, and felt the sudden urge to cough. Her throat cleared, and her tongue felt it's normal size again. Mulder was bending over her, his hand smoothing her hair out of her face. She heard his voice, very distant, but there. "Scully? Can you breathe okay?" His face was a cross between concern and panic. She nodded, unable to speak. "Scully? Can you sit up? We have to try and get out of here before they find out we broke out and kill us." He slid an arm under her shoulders and gently lifted her. He made sure she was steady on the table, and then let her go. The dizziness that Scully experienced was shocking. Scully gripped the table, but it was no use. She began to slide to the ground like over-cooked pasta. "Whoa, whoa Scully. Maybe I'll just carry you." He deftly slipped his arms under her legs, and across her back, and effortlessly lifted her. "Mulder, he was here," she whispered, her lips close to his ear. "The Cigarette Man...." "I know Scully. He was in my room too. He's behind the project here. I'ts his money the base is using to fund 'Iron Horse'." Scully rested her head against Mulder's shoulder, the effort to speak exhausting her. Her vision jumped and shimmered, and Mulder's voice became fainter. She tilted her head to look at him. The urge to sleep was so great. But she needed to say something first. "Thankyou, Mulder," she whispered in his ear, before the darkness swallowed her again. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Iron Horse By Jill Starbuck See top for disclaimers, etc. 16/16 ST. JAMES'S HOSPITAL, NEBRASKA MONDAY, 9:21AM "Scully? Scully? Are you going wake up now?" "Is she awake?" Scully listened as the voices swirled around her. Her eyes fluttered open, and a host of concerned faces hovered over her. She drank each one in slowly, and realised someone was missing. "Where's Mulder?" she asked, and the closest face to her laughed. "We made him go and get a coffee," Langly said to her. "We promised we'd stay with you. He didn't want you left alone." "Where am I?" Byers fielded the question. "St. James's Hospital, Nebraska. Mulder brought you here after the two of you escaped from the base. He was concerned as to what they had injected you with, and how much of the treatment you had received, so he brought you here just to be safe. You've been unconscious since Saturday night." "We went to your motel rooms, and got your luggage," Frohike said. "They were thorough in going over your room. All the evidence that you collected has been swiped. The rooms were as neat as a pin when we arrived." "No samples, no files?" Scully asked. "What about the autopsy report on the pilot?" "It was all gone. They effectively put you back to square one." Byers smiled apologetically at her. "I'm sorry." Scully closed her eyes, resigned. She opened them again. "What about Gainsfield's testimony? And his friend, Josh Newhart? They saw more than any report, any piece of evidence, could tell you. What about them?" Byers sighed and looked to the other Gunmen before he spoke. "Scully, Nicholas Gainsfield was found yesterday morning the victim of a bungled burglery attempt. It seems that he was attempting to stop the man from forcing his way into his home, and earned a single shot to the head for his trouble." Scully's eyes widened in disbelief. "You don't honestly take that as gospel, do you?" Langly smiled gently. "Scully, we're *in* this business. We know that Nicholas was unfortunately, a security risk. He had to be removed." "What about us? Mulder and me? How do we know that they aren't going to come after us?" "Well, we don't," Byers said. "I guess we just have to wait. We called Skinner, and he is looking into the situation. That's all we can do at this stage." "Did you get a hold of Danny?" Scully asked. "We let him know about what had happened. He sends his best wishes, and is really down that he isn't going to receive those samples from you." Scully smiled, and rested her head back on the pillow. A knock at the door sounded, and Mulder poked his head in. "Hey, you're awake," he said, smiling one of his rare broad smiles. He handed a paper bag to Frohike, who opened it eagerly, pulling out a chocolate frosted doughnut. Scully mock-pouted. "I want one too," she whined, shooting Frohike a hurt glance. Mulder laughed. "Sorry Agent Scully, but you're on liquids until they kick you outta here." He perched on the edge of the bed and bent down, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. The Gunmen took the hint and backed out of the room, murmering excuses. Mulder watched them retreat, and focused on Scully. He took Scully's hand, rubbing it between his fingers. "I was worried there for a little while," he said softly, his eyes liquid. "I didn't know whether you were going to wake up or not. I thought...." "Don't worry about it," Scully interrupted. "I'm okay. I feel a bit woozy and off-colour, but I'm fine." Scully looked down at their hands before she spoke again. "Mulder, they killed Gainsfield." "I know," he replied. "A security risk." "His testimony would have helped. Even if that's all we had, it would still have been something." "Scully, how many times have we presented a report to a Bureau brass, without any substantial evidence, nothing physical whatsoever? They would take one look at us, and do the same thing they do everytime. Write us off." "But this is different, Mulder. This time I saw it. This time I can vouch for everything. I was there. I examined that thing. I saw the craft it flew on." Mulder smiled gently. "It would give them a reason to lock up two psychos instead of one. You'd be discredited even further, and given the same reputation that I have now." "Mulder, you and I both know that I have that reputation already. I see the stares I get in the halls. I experienced those stares the very first day I worked with you. But I don't care, Mulder. I told you once before. I wouldn't change a day. I learnt more working with you that Quantico could ever teach." Scully paused, and Mulder looked away, embarrassed. She yawned, and Mulder changed the subject. "You should get some rest. I'll come by and visit you later, okay?" "'Kay." Mulder pressed another kiss to her forehead, and stroked the side of her face. He walked to the door, and looked back. Scully had already fallen asleep. "I wouldn't change a day either," he whispered softly. He pulled the door shut. * * * * "I understand, sir, that what you have heard sounds fantastic, to say the least. Agent Mulder and I had evidence to back this up, but unfortunately, it was taken from us." "Agents, I'm used to hearing these kinds of stories. But, Scully, the thing I find most fantastic is that you are supporting everything Agent Mulder has presented for me today." Walter Skinner looked down on them through his glasses, and held the report in his hand. "I received this report this morning, in my mail. It details that there is no such thing as Iron Horse, nothing about an antennae system attempting to communicate with extraterrestrial life. The Pentagon apparently investigated this matter extensively three days ago, and nothing has been turned up. Collins Air Force Base majors primarily in the designing of aircraft for military use." "Military aircraft that incorporates the use of alien technology," Mulder said. "Agent Scully and I saw these...." "I'm not disputing what you saw, Agent Mulder. I'm just telling you, that without substantial proof, this isn't worth pursuing. It's a miracle that it has gone on for this long." He slipped the report back in the folder, and handed it to Mulder. "There will be no more talk of this. You have no proof, nothing. This case will be dropped. That will be all." Mulder and Scully stood, exchanging a look with each other. Skinner was fiddling with some papers in his desk, the agents forgotten. Outside, Sully turned to Mulder. "So what do you want to do?" Mulder waited several seconds before answering. "I don't know. For once, I am at a loss." He held up his hands, the turned and looked down that hall at the agents passing through. He turned back to Scully. "Come on, let's go. We can talk about this later. Right now there are a pile of cases on my desk that actually *have* substantial leads." * * * * The short man adjusted the lab coat he was wearing and picked up a clipboard. He noted the latest statistics, and rested it back on the table. He walked over to another man that was working with different frequencies. He tapped the man on the shoulder, and he looked up, surprised. "Where do you want these latest statistics to go?" he asked. The other man waved distractedly. "You know, Clive, same place as the others. They have to be double checked by the funding team." Clive wandered off to file the statistics, and the other man sighed. The new employees were such dolts sometimes. And they should've been qualified. Afetr all, they were working with a highly sensitive piece of equipment. An anntenae system that could once and for all prove the existance of extraterrestrials...... THE END. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX There are a few people who I have to thank. They are: My proof reader and editor, Natarlia, she patiently reads my chapters, gives me constructive feedback, and encourages me when I have a mental block and want nothing more than to put a match to a story and start again. Thanks mate, I luv ya heaps!! My second thanks have to go to Jack, who kindly designed my dust-jacket. Without question one of the most talented people I have ever done business with. Keep at it, Jack!! I also want to thank James. I know that things have not always been smooth between us, but you are proof that one can find their true soulmate. You are my best friend, and the most important person in my life. I'll always be there, I promise. Jill. xxx