FROZEN IN TIME
"Who will save your soul after
the lies that you told, boy?
Who will save your soul if
you won’t save your own?"
Jewel.FORJ SIDI TOU Penal Colony
Tunisia, June 22 – 2000.The shouts of excited men echoed throughout the cellblock.
The words, if translated to English, would be profane and indecent. And all of them directed at the petite woman who strolled with confidence down the long, darkened corridor. To her credit, the beautiful blonde easily ignored the screaming and the open-mouthed staring.
The captain of the guard yelled for the men to shut up, and like trained soldiers, the rambunctious mob of prisoners stilled at once.
Only the rhythmic clack of the woman’s high heels could be heard.
The Captain indicated with his head the cell the woman wanted. She stepped up to the filthy steel bars, made grimy from hundreds of pairs of dirty hands, and spoke. There was no need to identify herself, she knew her voice would be recognised.
"Your release has been arranged." Marita wrinkled her nose up at the smell of unwashed male bodies. Her light blue eyes searched the crowd of men standing in the cell. They all stared back; more than curiosity in their stares.
Suddenly, the convict before her was pushed aside and out from behind the young Tunisian, stepped the person whom she had been seeking.
"Marita Covarrubias, the last time I saw you I left you for dead," whispered Alex Krycek coldly.
He was shocked at seeing his former flame again. He'd been in the prison in Tunisia for almost a year now.
The Russian had no idea how the cancerstick had found him in the first place. But Alex was sure that his back-stabbing ex-girlfriend might have had something to do with it. No doubt, it was her way of paying him back for leaving her trapped with Jeff Spender at Fort Marlene during the time before the consortium elders had been killed by the Alien Rebellion. He had played a major roll in setting the syndicate geezers up for an early cremation; Spender knew it.
Six months after that incident, Alex had stolen vital papers from a slimy double agent. And the cancerman, vicious as ever, had punished him by dropping him off at the prison and leaving him there.
In the whole time he had been at Forj Sidi Tou, not once did he receive so much as a letter, let alone a visitor. Alex assumed that he would die in the god-forsaken place; never to be heard from again.
"Believe me, Alex. If it were up to me I'd leave you here to rot," replied Marita just as icily. She didn't relish facing Krycek again. The love between them was lost forever.
~0~
Alex stripped off his filthy clothes and stepped under the spray. This was his first shower in weeks. The water was only luke-warm, but it felt delicious all the same. Only when his body was slaked clean did he ask, "Who sent you?" unable to turn his face away from the cleansing waters.
"The smoking man. He's dying," replied Marita, her tone as icy as ever.
She stood to the right of Alex and watched him shower. The blonde could definitely see why she was attracted to the former assassin. He made for an attractive package, regardless of the missing arm. Too bad he was a two-faced backstabber out for no one else but himself. Or else Marita thought, I could definitely get interested again. She sighed softly, perhaps a year in this hell-hole had helped the Russian to see things differently.
Alex swung his eyes toward his former colleague. Spender dying. Well, that was certainly a serendipitous piece of news from home.
~0~
The flight home took fourteen hours, and in that whole time, neither Alex nor Marita said one word to another; until they landed. Which suited Alex just fine, he still hadn't gotten over her betrayal of him concerning the Russian boy.
After clearing customs, the silent duo climbed into a waiting limo. Marita poured him a drink, then one for herself.
Alex sipped his vodka, but finally, the silence grew too much even for him. "Where are we going?" He downed the vodka in his crystal tumbler then refilled it. How easy it was to become accustomed to luxuries again.
"Baltimore, to smoking man's new...ah...offices." Marita settled herself opposite Alex in the limo. She ran her long, thin fingers over the cool black leather seat. She studied Krycek from lowered lids as she sipped her whiskey sour.
"New laboratory, you mean," the Russian mumbled huskily.
Marita shrugged, in a non-committal way. "Whatever," she said finally, hmmphing cynically, still staring at the man opposite her.
After that, the former lovers fell into a morose silence all the way to the rural out skirts of Baltimore City. Once at the 'offices', which were in the middle of nowhere, Marita escorted Alex to the old man's private rooms. Where he was first greeted, then accosted by four large consortium thugs. The man in charge of the other three men, was a syndicate punk whom Krycek recognised. The large blond, with the flat top haircut name was Richard...something or other. Smoking man was nowhere to be seen and Covarrubias had disappeared the second Krycek passed through the threshold of his trap.
The four beefy men wrestled Alex face down to the cement floor and removed his jacket. One guy held him pinned to the ground by placing a large, jack-boot clad foot on his neck while another roughly removed his prosthetic arm. Richard, the leader and the only man whom Alex knew, stood back and watched. He smiled at the rough treatment his men were giving the one- armed bandit.
As far as he was concerned, it couldn't happen to a nicer guy. The arm gone, the third member of the group wrapped Alex's vulnerable right wrist into a sheepskin lined leather restraint. A long leather thong dangled from the wrist cuff. After securing the wrist restraint one of the men fastened a leather dog collar around Alex's sleek throat, making sure to buckle it as tight as it could go without actually choking the Russian. He threaded the thong through a loop at the back of the dark brown collar and reefed Alex's right arm up tight behind his back.
Alex's hissed his frustration; the pain was secondary.
The soldier tied off the thong, and the man whose boot was forcing Krycek down, stepped back. Alex Krycek was firmly trussed; there was no way of escaping the bonds. Should he move too much one way or another, he would constrict his own air supply. Firmly ensnared, logic dictated that the Russian should stop fighting. But he could not, and he kept on resisting the restraints as best as he could. Alex knew that fighting was futile, that he should save his stores for what would come next. He needed to be fresh should the opportunity to escape arise. But his body refused to obey, his need to flee was just too strong.
"Stop fighting or I swear I'll kill you right here and now! Spender's grand experiment be damned!" Richard, the leader, kicked Alex in the ribs, rolling the former agent over to his back. "There's nothing you can do, Krycek. I've got you." The leader dropped to his knees beside his prone captive.
Alex, like a fish who'd been fighting the hook and line too long was played out. He glared hard at the man with the buzz-cut. The fucker was right, he was caught. With his only good arm trapped useless behind him, it may as well been cut off, too. The large blond was looming in closer to Alex's face, and the agent knowing that he wouldn't help himself by doing so but suddenly he jack-knifed up and smashed his forehead into buzz-cut's nose. He heard the satisfying crunch then spit on the howling man. One of the thugs grabbed the smirking Alex up by the shirt collar and yanked him up to a standing position.
Enraged, Richard jammed his large fist into Alex's diaphragm, knocking the air out of the arrogant agent. "YOU COCK-SUCKING LITTLE BASTARD!" raged the man, as he pinched at his nostrils, trying to stem the flow of blood.
"Fuck you too," whispered Alex, still trying to get his breath back. He was pleased with the reaction he had gotten out of the larger man. Alex knew that he was probably going to get the shit kicked out of him for his actions, but he didn't care. He had too inflict some sort of damage on the man before he was beaten up.
"You still stink from your time in Tunisia Krycek…take him to the showers, and cut the rest of his clothes off," instructed Richard.
Two of the three consortium thugs jammed their hands under Alex's armpits and hauled the man away.
Alex tried to keep his directions straight, just in case he could get away. But he had never been in the building before and soon, he was lost. Finally, the group, minus the leader, ended up at a large, very industrial looking shower room. There were four nozzles protruding from the tiled walls and a stainless steel bench in the middle of the facility.
A soldier forced Alex down on the bench and instructed him to kick off his Dayton boots. Once that was done, the same soldier removed Alex's white socks and tossed them aside. He stood up and backed away. Another one of the Richard's men pulled a large buck knife and cut away the rest of Alex's tattered clothes. The man's hand was so steady that after the Russian was completely naked, no cut or scratch could be seen on his unnaturally pale flesh; there was virtually no trace of the man's trespass on the naked Russian's firm body.
Richard appeared just as the man who wielded the sharp knife pushed the prisoner back to the bench.
Alex shifted his weight from cheek to cheek, the steel was cold against his flesh.
"Get out," snapped the angry leader rudely.
Once the men had vacated the shower room, Richard locked the door, then carefully stripped off his own clothes so that he too was naked. The soldier walked to the shower nozzle farthest from the door and turned the water on. Without taking his eyes off of his captive, he adjusted the temperature of the water. With in a few seconds, the large room grew warm and moist. A soft steam rose from the cool tile floor.
That done, he went over to where Alex sat and stood in front of the green-eyed man. "You're going to pay for breaking my nose, Krycek." The robust man slowly stroked his own cock and in a few short seconds the large organ was flaring to life. "I haven't been laid in ages, you can blow me and if you do a good job, I'll let you live long enough to find out why you're really here."
The reason why he was even here in the first place had crossed Alex's mind more than once since his release from the prison. Alex had no real clue, but he did wonder if the old man was watching him right now on a hidden camera.
Probably concluded Krycek.
Smirking cheekily, he replied, "If you try to put your cock in my mouth..." Green eyes narrowed to a glare, despite the smile, "And I'll circumcise you...*Dick*." Alex licked his lips.
Richard released his un-circumcised organ. "Don't ever call me Dick." Instructed the soldier. He studied the seated Russian, and he knew that the former consortium employee wasn't lying. Krycek would bite, despite the repercussions. Richard's cold blue eyes swept Alex up and down. Suddenly a knowing smile came to his face. "Fine..." he said, "I'll fuck you instead"
"I don't think sooooo...." Alex said, then suddenly he launched his body at the larger man, driving his into the firm stomach.
Richard absorbed the blow easily and evaded the rest of Krycek's attack easily. He laughed caustically and grabbed Alex by his tender wrist. Still bound, the double agent shouted in frustration and pain. Once caught, Alex could do nothing but to try and struggle and thrash his way out of the soldier's arms.
Had his right arm been free, the large soldier would never have gotten a hold of him so easily.
"You Fucker, let go of me now!" Alex menaced. He was not going to be taken without a fight.
The soldier could see this so he pushed the wriggling man away from his body. Alex stumbled a few steps away then swung around, intending on using his strong legs as weapons this time. However, Richard was waiting for this and the second the Russian whirled around, the soldier clipped him in the jaw.
Alex's eyes rolled back and he went down.
Knowing that he was not supposed to really wasn't supposed to harm the Russian, Richard caught the agent before he hit the tiles. Alex's assailant was a trained soldier, he knew just where to strike a person in order to knock them out and cause the least amount of damage. He dragged the unconscious and restrained man over the still running shower-head and snatched up a bar of generic white soap. Richard stood beneath the spray and held his captive tightly. With in a few seconds, the hot water revived Alex, who immediately woke up sputtering.
"Good, you're up," Richard spoke directly into Alex's ear. "I want you awake for this." The soldier quickly slicked his throbbing erection with the mild soap then ran the bar over the Russian's asshole. Smiling as Alex shouted threats of retribution culmination with the death of the soldier, Richard position his cock, then slammed it home.
Alex screamed; the intrusion hurt almost as much as the time his arm had been cut off. He fought with everything he had to escape the searing pain. But he was firmly trapped by the consortium soldier. Eventually, he resigned himself to the violation and ceased his struggles, his stores were already empty anyway. Jet lagged topped onto a year in a third world prison had depleted most of what strength he'd had in the first place; being knocked out followed by his struggles finished draining him.
Spurred on by his captive's howling protests, Richard thrust again and again. Finally, his knees locked and complete ecstasy was attained. The soldier erupted deep inside of the exhausted Alex.
Once done, the satiated attacker picked up the soap again and hastily scrubbed Alex clean. The larger man hmmphed triumphantly then released Krycek, who fell to his knees beneath the hot spray. Green eyes stared unfocused as blood from torn tissues swirled lazily down the drain.
Richard grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself. The large man donned his uniform in a practised motion, all the while keeping his eyes on the defeated Krycek. Once dressed, he opened the solid door and let the other three men who had been with him entered.
"Cut the bonds, and get rid of the collar. Regular handcuffs will do from here on in." The soldier glanced back at Krycek, who by now, managed to get himself standing. "Dress him in some scrubs and bring him to Spender in the lab." Richard waited until one of his men had turned off the water then he strolled over to Alex, winked and said casually, "Thanks babe, that was great."
Alex spit in the soldier's face then glowered at the looming man, waiting for another knock out punch to come.
But it never did.
The soldier simply ran the sleeve of his uniform over the spittle and laughed at the Russian. "You've got tenacity, Krycek, I'll give you that." He slapped Alex's cheek lightly, then said as he turned to leave, "Don't keep the old man waiting."
~0~
Alex, clad in dark blue doctor's scrubs and matching men's slippers, took a good look around the room he was standing in. He was surrounded by doctors and soldiers; despite being un-fettered there was no hope of escape. The door in which he had been shoved through, was the only way in or out of the huge room. The Russian caught a faint smell of smoke in the air, and he knew that the cancerman was nearby.
"Alex, how nice of you to join us." Spender stubbed his cigarette out in a small metal kidney tray.
Alex shuddered and crossed his arm protectively, holding his left shoulder he wondered why the room was so cold. Continuing with his visual analysis of the lab, Krycek turned his head this way and that, ignoring those in the room as he did so. He saw that there were two large containers with clear domed tops set off into the far corner. They reminded Alex of caskets, except that at the end of each, there were dials, gauges and four sets of led lights that flashed red, green and two different shades of amber. He wondered what they were for, or rather, whom the coffins were for.
"Those receptacles are for you and Mulder," said the unseen voice as if in answer to Krycek's silent questions. A lighter flared in the dark shadows of the dim room and the smoking man waited until his first deep drag of his cigarette was exhaled before speaking again. The thick plume rose to the ceiling and was sucked out the ventilation system. "Please get up on the table so our doctors can examine your health." Spender stepped out from the dark.
The dim light barely lit the large man, but Alex could see him well enough. The Russian looked to his right at the hospital bed the smoking man was talking about. A single over-head hospital light fixture lit it up. "What's the matter, Spender, can't afford to pay the light bill?" He made no motion toward the high bed.
Spender nodded and one of the six soldiers, who were in the room with them, prodded Alex in the back. Still the former agent didn't move so the soldier hit him in the back of his left thigh with the butt of his rifle. Alex cried out and dropped to his knees in pain. The soldier passed his gun to another, then grabbed the gasping Krycek by the collar of his thin shirt and forcibly put him on the bed. Another soldier held Alex there by aiming his gun at him.
Spender ticked his tongue. "Now, Alex, why are you making me hurt you?"
Trying to rub away the painful charley horse, Alex glowered at Spender. "Fuck you, if you're going to kill me, then do it now and get it over with! I've had enough mind games in my life!"
Spender laughed, and smoke came from his nose and mouth. He dropped his butt and stepped on it. The old man approached Alex. "Oh, Alex, I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to save you."
"Gee, thanks," retorted Alex sarcastically. "I guess I was all wrong about you."
Spender chuckled. "You may begin," he said.
Two men who looked like doctors stepped up to Alex and began to check him over. One wrapped a pressure cuff around his right biceps while the other listened to his heart.
"I'm not getting into that coffin," Alex said calmly. "You can't make me." He refused to co-operate with the doctor's instructions to breathe deeply.
"Yes, you are going to get in that. Don't worry, you won't be alone, Mulder will join you shortly, as soon as he arrives."
Alex laughed at that. "Mulder? Now why would he be coming here?" The Russian wondered what the old man's game really was -- to torture him more?
"He's coming here under the assumption that you are here waiting for him."
"Ahhh...I get it, he's the one who's going to kill me?" Alex tried to avoid the doctor and not let the man look in his ears. But the doctor persevered and managed to hold Alex still. "You're going to get Mulder to do your dirty work for you." He sneered, "I'm sure he'll be more than happy to oblige you."
Having had enough of their uncooperative patient, the doctors nodded at one of the large soldiers. The khaki clad man pinched Alex at his neck, pressing his thumb to the cartoid artery, rending the Russian frozen.
"No. He won't be coming to kill you. He thinks he will be rescuing you from me."
The physicians finished their exam and the soldier released his Vulcan like grip on Alex.
The Russian took a moment to scowl at the large soldier before laughing ironically. "Riiiight. That's rich, Mulder hates me…he always has."
"Keep telling yourself that, ratboy." Spender lit a cigarette, and watched as the head doctor prepared Alex's sedative.
Alex kept an eye on one of the doctors and when the white lab coat covered man was just a foot away, he made his move. "Whatever that shit is, you're not putting it in me!" Alex yelled just before he slammed the heel of his right hand into the doctor's nose, breaking it while simultaneously pushing the man away from him.
All hell broke loose then and Alex - unwilling to be put into the coffin earmarked for him - frantically tried to fight his way out of the secure room. "GET HIM!" bellowed the doctor with the broken nose and the soldiers did.
Spender quickly retreated to the shadows and watched the lone, one-armed man as he valiantly tried to escape.
There were just too many adversaries to over come, and within minutes, the melee was over.
Supremely pissed, the doctor snatched up his syringe of sedative and barked out, "Bend him over the fucking table!" To which the two men holding Alex did.
They bent the Russian over and held him still as the doctor yanked down the blue hospital pants, and jammed the needle roughly into one firm buttock.
Alex yelled at the indignation. Within seconds, he could already feel the fast acting drug starting to work. He implored the tall figure in the shadows, "Just kill me, Spender. I was a good agent to you, I did what I was told…most of the time. I deserve a quick death. Please....just kill me now....you know I can't stand small spaces. Give me a bullet between the eyes....don't make me get in there." He knew he was begging, but he couldn't help it, the very thought of being trapped under that glass scared him more than death. His lids, already heavy, blinked desperately trying to cling to consciousness.
Spender approached Alex – who was still lying over the middle of the bed - and squatted down in front of him. "Alex, if I put a bullet here" The old man poked his finger to the spot just above the crease of the bridge of the Russian's nose. "I'd ruin those pretty eyes of yours." He stared at Alex, knowing that there wasn't much time left. "And I can't do that because when you wake up, I want you to know that it was those eyes that saved your life. I'm allowing you to live because you're beautiful. Your genes, are superior. I've always wanted your body, but you would not give it to me, so I'll settle for your soul instead."
Alex's head lolled, but he managed to raise it enough to look at Spender and say a slurred, "Fuck you...." Before the drugs took him.
Spender stood then. "We haven't much time, give him the cocktail."
The doctor, who Alex had hurt, yelled out orders, while the two soldiers who had been holding the Russian down settled his unconscious form on the gurney. The second doctor pulled over a rolling stainless steel tray and on it were six large needles, full of different drugs. He tied off Alex's right arm with a large piece of rubber and began to administer the contents of five of the syringes in a specific order. The sixth syringe's contents was given to Alex via the base of his head. The nanites in that needle went straight to a specific area with in the former agents brain, there, they settled in.
Once done, with the needles, the doctor's stripped Alex naked, covered him with a sheet and placed inside the special cryo-chamber. After that was done, the lid was sealed shut. The main doctor pushed in the required codes and sequences, and then it was done. Alex Krycek was put into stasis, doomed to remain there until such time as some one smart enough came along and released him from his hermetically sealed tomb. Two soldiers wheeled the container to the far side of the lab, plugged him into a small, independent power source and left him there, under a single, bright spotlight. Alex would remain alive for as long as the nanites, who lived and powered the source of Alex's cryo-bed was hooked up to, did. The nanites, fuelled by the imprint of the black oil that once had infected their host would go on for thousands of years.
~O~
Mulder dropped his glasses on his desktop and scrubbed at his aching eyes. It was ten o'clock at night, and here he was, stuck in the office finishing a report that he had been putting off for days now. Scully had done her part of the writing at the beginning of the week, then left it in Mulder's hands. She had collected her mother and gone to Virginia for the weekend to visit her brother. He sighed heavily. No way would the powers that be buy that an air force jet had collided with a UFO. But there was no other explanation. Too bad that dick head auditor from hell wouldn't recommend the travel time it took to go out to Oregon to check it out. He had called Mulder's quest a waste of time that could be better served surfing the internet. So here he was, stuck with out all the facts. Suddenly, his computer beeped that he had mail. Thinking Scully was dropping him a line he checked the message.
It read:
'Krycek has the answers to the questions which you seek and the Smoking man has Krycek. His life is in danger, and if you don't save him, then those answers will die with him." MC.'
Mulder read the note twice, memorising the instructions of where exactly, he could locate his nemesis. He'd always known that someday they would cross paths again. And this time, Mulder had no intention of that letting that rat bastard get away without answering his questions. He quickly cleaned up his work area and then got ready to go and save Krycek's ass.
He couldn't wait to get the Russian out of whatever mess he was in; because the minute that rat boy was safe, he intended on kicking him all over his apartment.
Mulder shut off his office light and went to the elevator. Never once questioning why he would want to bother saving Krycek's skin, and never questioning the validity of the message. He had always trusted Marita Covarrubias in the past, why should this time be any different?
~0~
"He's not coming," prophesied Marita.
Spender lit a cigarette and his wrinkled features were momentarily visible through the dark gloom to the blonde. She ignored the old man's irritating smoke.
"Patience, Mar-ee-ta,"
She hated the way the cancer man pronounced her name…slow, like she didn't know it was her he was talking to or something.
"He'll show, Fox Mulder cannot resist the dangling carrot, especially when it's Alex Krycek who is being dangled." The old man laughed softly as he exhaled, he had faith that the FBI agent would show up.
~0~
Mulder pulled into the darkened turn off approximately one mile from the building where he was supposed to find Krycek. He checked his messages on his phone, listened to Scully again, caution him about *not* being late for work the next day. He smiled at her voice and checked his watch. Too late to phone her back, so he shut his phone off and pocketed it; lest it go off at an inopportune time. He locked his usual set of keys in the trunk of the car and left the spare in the ignition, just in case he had to make a quick get away. The agent kept only the small remote which unlocked his doors from a distance, in his pocket.
This way, his keys would not make noise as he tried to sneak in and if he was running away from danger, then all he would have to do was aim the fob at his car while running and then hop in and start it up immediately. His escape route taken care of, Mulder zipped up the pocket to his dark, Gore-Tex jacket and set off at brisk pace through the bush toward the out of the way cinder block building.
~0~
"See, I told you he would come," said Spender in a smug tone.
Marita watched as Mulder came into view on the television screen. She couldn't wait to collect her money, then get the hell out of the states. She knew what was coming, and she planned on being far, far away from aliens and the war. That was why she had helped the cancer man to set up Krycek and Mulder; she needed the cash and the promise from the old man of a safe exit.
~0~
Mulder loped over the manicured lawn, looking left and right for any sign of danger or discovery. He was relieved when he met neither. Still, he approached a side door with caution and quickly, picked the lock. Once inside, Mulder pulled his gun and continued his search for Alex Krycek. It niggled at the back of his brain that it seemed far too easy sneaking into one of smoking man's hideout. But he pushed the thought away and recalling the memorised instructions went off in search of his former partner.
~0~
Mulder found the room where Krycek was being kept with ease.
His eidetic memory aided him in his journey and would aid him when it came time to get out of the building. The labyrinth of halls was no match for the FBI agent. Mulder stopped at the door marked 'Lab #1' and had a quick peek through the small, port-hole sized window. The room was mostly dark, with a lone spot light shining on what looked like to Mulder a glass topped jewellery display case. In it, he could see that there was a body, whether or not it was Krycek's, the agent couldn't be sure, but he supposed that he had better find out. Mulder, checked the knob, it was unlocked so the agent entered. He stole quietly up to the glass sarcophagus and stopped right next to it. Inside, it was Krycek, who, to Mulder's relief did not look dead, but merely sleeping. The Russian was covered to the waist with a flannel sheet and left bare at the chest. Fox unconsciously licked his lips, his mouth suddenly gone dry from the sight of the triple agent. He had expected to find his former partner alive and well, in some sort of a jail cell - not laid out like Juliet on her deathbed - looking young and vulnerable.
Mulder raised his bare hand to the clear glass and rested his palm. The cool surface somehow helped to cool the heat that he felt in his cheeks.
Over Alex's bare chest, there were several pads that had wires attached to them that ran under the sheet and re-appeared again at the foot of the bed. Without realising he had done so, Mulder sighed heavily, saddened by the sight of the sleeping man's missing arm. The agent truly regretted that the man had lost his arm while in Tunguska, but Mulder blamed the Russian. It was his own fault, if he had been up front with Mulder from the beginning, none of the following actions would have happened. Mulder kneaded his own left biceps, glad that he had only been given a needle there.
A lighter clicked softly and flame flared in the shadows. Mulder whirled around just in time to see Spender step out from the dark. "I knew it was just a little too easy to get in here." He sniffed the air with disdain.
Spender smiled. "I knew you would come for Alex but I didn't want to make it too hard for you…."
"I came so I could kick ratboy's ass…"
"You came because you wanted to save his life." Spender laughed, he knew Mulder all too well.
"Bullshit!" Mulder retorted, wanting to deny to himself what the truth was.
"Why am I here?" he asked finally, when it became apparent that Spender was not going to speak until asked a question. To Mulder, the old man reminded him of a cat playing with a mouse, having lots of fun with until it eventually died. Fox wondered if that was what the cancerman had done to Alex and now, was doing to him.
"You're here because I promised your father once too do my best to look after you."
At that, Mulder laughed long and hard. "And you did that by sending Alex Krycek to spy on me."
"No, I charged him with protecting you at all costs…even if it meant going against my orders. I'd say he did a pretty good job of it. He even went so far as to kill Bill when it became apparent that the crazy old fool was going to tell you everything."
"Why would killing my father save my life?" asked Mulder, his tone bitter.
"Because, had Bill managed to tell you what he wanted you to know, then the syndicate would have put a hit out on you. Alex selected the lesser of two evils and chose your life over your father's. Don't be sad for Bill." Spender could see the concern on Mulder's face. "He was dying anyway. Krycek saved him the pain of wasting away slowly. For that, you should thank him."
Mulder threw Spender a sarcastic smile. "Gee, wasn't that nice of him." The agent shrugged, "Why am I here?" He tried again.
"Because in five years time, all this." Spender waved his hand, which held his cigarette, in a circle. "Will be gone. There will be a war the likes of which the world has never seen. It will be so vicious, so horrific, that it will make World wars one and two look like a schoolyard skirmish. Billions will die from an airborne plague released by the faceless ones. I intend to keep my promise to Bill, I'm going to save your life." With that, the lab door opened and in walked the five large soldiers one of them sporting a pair of black eyes and a broken, swollen nose. Behind the soldiers followed the same two doctors who had examined Krycek. One of the doctor's had black eyes too.
Mulder stared at them for a second before coming to his senses and pulling his gun. He held it on the group of men. "Back off! What's going on, Spender? Why are these men here." Mulder ran his eyes over the soldiers.
"I'm giving you the choice Alex never had. You can let these gentlemen examine you and prepare you for the same journey Krycek is about to take and live. Or you can die in five years. What's it going to be?"
For a split second, Mulder's gun hand relaxed, but then he stiffened it and said, "I prefer to die…"
It was enough time for two of the soldiers to jump at Mulder and over power him.
Spender dropped his cigarette to the lab's floor and stepped on it, putting the butt out. "Wrong answer, Fox."
The doctor's gave Mulder the same hasty examination that they had done to Krycek. Then they injected the struggling agent with a powerful narcotic, putting him to sleep within moments. The doctor's administered the last needle containing the long-lived nanites, and like the ones in Krycek's brain, these nanites went to where they knew they belonged inside Mulder's brain. The oilien imprint from Mulder's time in the gulag called to the nanites like a beacon in the night.
~0~
Later as Spender and Covarrubias watched the pair of brown-haired men *sleep*, Marita asked her soon to be former boss one simple question.
"Why?"
Spender replied, "Because I can."
He pulled a Morely from his pack then he pushed them into an inside pocket of his jacket. When his hand came away, there was a plain brown envelope in it. He handed it over to the petite woman, who in turn tucked it away into the inner pocket of her sensible pantsuit.
She did not count the money, he would not go back on his word and stiff her of her just rewards. She had served him well over the years. Marita did not bother with the formalities of saying 'goodbye'. Instead she gave the old man a look that could be considered somewhat warm then turned on her heel to leave. As she walked away, from her boss and her old life, she clearly heard Spender call after her, "What better way to punish these two then to doom them to immortality together."
Marita heard the old man laugh then, and it sent a cold chill up her spine. She picked up her pace and walked faster toward the door; toward her freedom.
~0~
After Marita had gone, Spender and the two doctors mused over Krycek's and Mulder's still forms. Richard the soldier stood guard near the door.
"If left undisturbed," One of the doctors re-iterated, "these men will live for hundreds of years, if not thousands. They will never age, in fact, while in stasis, they will not even grow a beard. Everything but their hearts will stop."
"As long as the nanites in their brains are left undisturbed, these men could live forever…" Cut in the other doctor.
"Forever unchanged," murmured Spender. He could have joined Alex and Fox in their immortality, but he was dying and he doubted that he would live through the implantation of the nanites into his already fragile brain. No, he'd had his heyday, besides he had no wish to live in a world dominated by aliens. He'd leave that up to Krycek and Mulder. "Richard, see to it when were gone that Mulder and Krycek are safely transported to the bunker in North Dakota." Instructed Spender.
To live forever was their salvation; it was also their punishment.
~0~
Entry in personal journal:
October 11, 2003
Three years, three months, and twenty-eight days.
That's how long it took for the war to end. Even less than the five years I predicted.
The result was never in doubt; the aliens had technological superiority, the advantage of surprise, and clinical ruthlessness on their side. Humanity? Desperation bred courage and heroism, but not enough to withstand hysteria, distrust and fear.
Sheep, I called them. Bleating, ignorant, self-absorbed masses. I knew they would fall decades ago. I wasn't one of *them.*
So I collaborated. For decades, worked with them. Even underwent various hybrid experiments. After all, to thrive, to *rule*, I would need to leave humanity behind. And I did.
The mind was willing, but the body was weak. I had the intelligence, the ambition, the *cruelty* to wield power in this new world. But all the experiments, all the surgeries over the years, combined with my one weakness, left me with an aged, pathetic body, unable at the end to endure the nanocyte treatment that would have saved me. I have been dying slowly for years.
Damned Morleys.
Still, for all intents and purposes, I am the last free man on Earth. I witnessed the slaughter and the horror, the few blazes of human spirit and courage, and the final, quiet surrender. This is *my* legacy.
***
Entry in personal journal:
October 12, 2003
The aliens started the war quietly, and quite effectively. The plague was released world wide simultaneously, killing millions before the first reports aired on CNN.
The resulting hysteria and confusion intensified international tensions. The aliens didn't need to fight humanity when the war began; they did that themselves. Whole nations were destroyed before the true enemy was identified. A matter of weeks, and everything but the shouting was over.
The pockets of resistance were fascinating. Amidst the sheep were a few lions.
Walter Skinner was once an impotent man. I owned him for years, controlled his actions, his very life. The war released the man behind the bureaucrat, the warrior who had survived the jungles of Vietnam. Once the rigid power structure of government crumbled, he simply took up the fight, marshaling any remaining militia into a unified resistance.
He died during the final assault on DC.
Who would have thought Mulder's geeky computer paranoids, the Lone Gunmen, could be lions? I always admired their talents, while deriding their oddities. They fought for humanity tenaciously: information is power, and they sent information across the world, hacking secrets, coordinating strategy.
The aliens captured Byers first. All three had taken the vaccine, so using the Black Oil was not an option. But torture was.
It took six days. I used *every* method of coercion, pain, and psychological terror during my days in the Consortium. Watching the aliens work, I learned I was a amateur.
It was no surprise when Byers died two days later.
When I left DC, Langly and Frohike were in alien hands. If they are still alive, they don't *want* to be.
Dana Scully did not surprise me. I expected her to be the most dangerous threat to the invasion. Once she actually recovered from the shock of alien life, she reacted as the calm, professional scientist. Her work enabled the resistance to develop a cure for the alien plague.
Of course, 3/4ths of the world's population was dead by then.
The alien leaders wanted her killed immediately. Not me. I knew she could be useful. So she went back to the experiment tables. Along with Samantha.
The truth is out there, Mulder.
***
Entry in personal journal:
October 13, 2003
So many thought of the United States as being *the* global power. It must have come as a surprise, then, for Russia to be the last home of resistance. Not to me.
By the time the United States was "discovered," Russia endured invasion, revolution, cold and famine for many centuries.
Russia may have been a wounded bear, with the upheaval from the fall of Communism, but a wounded bear is a dangerous bear.
Like you, Alex.
You *still* amaze me, Alex. I had no idea you truly were a patriot...and a global one at that.
The information you stole that led to an extended vacation in a Tunisian prison was only part of your work. I had no idea you actually *cracked* the MJ tape...and passed on the secrets, along with others gathered over the years.
To Russia. America. The French. *Everyone.*
It's a shame, really. If they had actually used what you provided, humanity might have had a chance. Slim, but some. But they didn't understand the information until it was too late.
Russia resisted, and lost.
Humanity surrendered.
Resist or Serve? They now *serve,* Alex.
In large part due to me.
When you awaken, Fox and Alex, I hope you see this journal before you face your brave new hell. I want you to know *I* did this to you: my renegade son; my unrelenting obsession.
I love you both.
***
The shaking, withered hand gently placed the large, leather-bound book between the two pods. A slow, mocking smile stretched across his tight face as he tossed his final pack of Morleys atop the book. He took a last look at the two sleeping men, captivated yet again.
No one heard the last gunshot on Earth.
North Dakota June 27, 2313
Archeology is the proof of History.
Archaeological digs can turn Myth, or Legend, into History.Robert Gethin looked at the inscription he'd written in the front of his field journal. It seemed so long ago that his professor had greeted the new intake of students with those words. They had fired his imagination, and it had become a habit to copy the two lines into a new notebook at the beginning of each new assignment. Sometimes, like now, when things didn't seem to be going too well, it was only rereading those words that kept him going.
Ever since, he'd first seen the remains of a hypercaust, the Roman central heating system, he had known what he wanted to do with his life... The ancient civilizations had invented so many wonders, which, for reasons he couldn't comprehend, had then been totally ignored by their successors.
He sighed, looked out of the cabin window at the unfamiliar landscape passing beneath them, and wondered, not for the first time, what was so important about this place that they had so precipitously hauled him away from his dig in Colchester. A new town, by Roman standards, built in the reign of Augustus some two-thousand years ago.
Try as he might, he couldn't understand why he was being assigned to the supposed site of a less than four-hundred year old cold war installation in the middle of the North American continent, when his real of expertise was with the ancient civilizations of Europe or Asia. No site he had excavated had been less than fifteen hundred years old.
He hoped that his forthcoming meeting with the expedition's leader, Commander Prescott, would provide an explanation.
As the helicar came into land, he put the notebook back in his pocket, and mentally prepared himself to meet his new colleagues.
When he walked down the ramp, a man who was maybe an inch taller than his own five foot nine, with greying dark hair and blue eyes, smartly dressed in the dark-green uniform of a Ministry of Culture Commander, who introduced himself as Gregory Prescott. He introduced the other members of the welcoming party. Frank Taylor, Gethin's guide to the area and assistant, and the expedition's photographers, Malcolm Bailey and David Leith who had been busy recording his arrival on their cameras.
Gethin in turn introduced Lieutenant Commander Charles Morrison, who had piloted the helicar and would also be joining the expedition.
Leaving Taylor to show Morrison where his quarters were, Prescott took Gethin to his office.
When they were comfortably seated, sipping steaming cups of coffee, he said, "I expect you have been wondering why we shipped you here so hurriedly, so I'll tell you as much as I can.
"In your search for ancient towns and fortifications, you have become an expert in interpreting satellite photographs. It's not a skill that members of the Antiquities Department have had to develop on this continent. Some months ago, a cold war command centre was discovered during the recovery of a helicar which had been forced down and damaged by a sudden storm.
"Much of the installation had been deliberately destroyed. But there were tantalising glimpses of previously unknown artifacts. For some reason the discovery stirred the First Families into searching their own records of the period, to see if that were the only base that existed. There were extensive records of a base in California, which was destroyed during the huge earthquake about seventy years ago, and a mention of a base somewhere in the Dakotas.
The First Families then convened a meeting of the full Consortium, and they directed the Ministry to Culture to find it - the Minister himself handed me the assignment, and here we are...."
He poured himself another coffee, and topped up Gethin's cup before continuing with a wry smile on his lips. "At least one other Ministry has received orders, Air and Space have made a satellite map of the Dakotas for us, and of the area around the other base for comparison."
"Hence the reason my boss, Andrei Kamarov, sent me here."
"Exactly."
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
July 1, 2313I don't think I truly appreciated the size of the North American continent, until I saw the satellite map of North and South Dakota. I may be an expert in interpreting these things, but I've never had to deal with such a large area in one map before.
Although nature has reclaimed much of this unpopulated land, it's easy to trace the paths of what were once major roads, their shadows cut broad swathes across the images. The long abandoned cities, towns and villages have also left unmistakable marks.
I've studied the photographs of the installation to the South and although there were no direct comparisons to be made it did give me enough pointers, along with my gut instinct, and singled out where the airstrip must have been, and the road to the bunker which disappears into the side of a mountain.
Commander Prescott has arranged to lead a small expedition to investigate the area, consisting of myself, Frank Taylor, the two photographers, and Barry Mitchell one of the engineers on loan to us.
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
July 8, 2313A landslide has covered the entrance to the bunker, but we have managed to get a drill through some of the scree to get a microcam through, and confirm that there are metal doors behind the screen of rock.
The whole base of operations has moved to the valley floor, near the old airstrip.
After some argument I managed to stop the engineers from blasting the rock clear, we don't want any more of the mountain down here in the valley, and we don't know what damage it might do inside.
RG
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
July 15, 2313We have the outer doors open.
My warnings about the possibility of foul air rushing out when the doors opened for the first time were ignored; one man died of asphyxiation, and two others were overcome but recovered later. Hopefully they will now listen to me, and learn from my greater experience with enclosed sites.
The main cavern is enormous, and almost empty. There are some vehicles that Taylor tells me are 'forklift trucks' and an automobile from around the year 2000. We have collected the contents of the vehicle for further study.
Because of the way the base was sealed there is very little dust, although there have been some falls from the ceiling, and most of the machinery is in good condition.
The engineering division will be sending a separate report.
We have moved out offices into the main cavern to save time recording our finds.
RG
As he touched the stylus on 'send' his phone chirped, and when he answered it, an excited voice assaulted his eardrums.
"Dr Gethin? Adams here. We've found something you ought to see in area G, level 5. There's the remains of a skeleton, and what looks like two coffins; each has a body in it."
"I'll be there right away. Get in touch with Bailey, I'll want everything photographed before we move anything." He shut off the computer and hurried down the stairway to the fifth level.
Adams was waiting for them when he and Bailey arrived. He led them into a large room where two of Adams's search team were illuminating the area with their powerful 'Daylight' torches, which they were in the process of attaching to tripods. When they were done, Bailey immediately starting taking pictures of the room and its contents, a visual record to be included in their reports.
Then they called in more people to remove the skeleton, and the odd pile of dust resting on a large leather-bound book. Gethin himself took charge of he book and moved across he room to lay it on a table. Gingerly he opened the cover and was relieved to find that it didn't fall apart in his hands. Noting that it seemed to be some kind of journal, he called for someone to bring him a box for it to be safely carried to the surface.
While he was waiting, he went over to the coffins and peered at them closely, noting the wires and the small lights at the foot end of each. He frowned, deep in thought, then opened his phone and pushed the button to connect his with Commander Prescott.
When it was answered, he quickly told Prescott of the find, then asked him to call in some experts on cryogenics. They would need people who had experience with stasis chambers, and medical experts in the same field, as unless he missed his guess, these two men were still capable of being revived.
Prescott said he'd get on it right away, and Gethin stared down at the two handsome young men, lying there so serenely... like two sleeping beauties, awaiting the kiss of life... He smiled wryly at his own whimsicality, and went back to the table where he'd placed the ancient book, wondering if its contents held some clues as to the identities of the two men, and the reasons why they had been placed here. Had someone failed in their duty to come and wake these two? Had the person entrusted with their care died before he could complete his, or her, task?
Madeleine Wright, an expert on book restoration, and her assistant Brian, came into the room. "I understand you have a book for me to restore," she said, coming to a halt in the middle of the room.
Gethin nodded. "Yes, it was found over there, between the two chambers. I'm hoping it may hold the reasons why... but come look for yourself...." He guided her into a position where she could see into the cases.
She gasped with surprise. "My goodness, they're beautiful," she whispered. "Are they alive?"
"That's a difficult question, and the answer's somewhere between yes... and no. I don't know much about cryogenics, but that fact that they look as if they are sleeping, means there is some possibility of reviving them... we've sent for some experts... and maybe the book we have recovered might hold some clues...."
Noises from the corridor shook them out of their rapt contemplation of the two men.
"Er... yes.. the book," she murmured and turned away towards the table. From the bag she had slung over her shoulder she took out a stout plastic box, with some wadding already in it. She carefully packed the book inside it and prepared to leave. As she approached doorway, she was swept aside by an influx of people carrying bags of tools. They started pulling the chambers away from their positions.
"STOP!" Gethin roared, "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"
Everyone froze in their tracks, then retreated as one extremely angry man bore down on them. Only when he was standing between them and the chambers did he stop moving.
Madeleine put the box and her bag down on the table and moved across the room to join Gethin, she was not about to allow anyone to harm those two beautiful men if she could help it.
"Well?" Gethin demanded, when no-one had answered his question.
"We were told to open the coffins and prepare the bodies to be autopsied." A man in dark-blue coveralls truculently answered him.
"On whose orders?"
"Mine." Morrison's voice came from the doorway, where he Taylor were crossing the threshold, both looking very smug.
With a great deal of effort, Gethin held on to his temper. "Number one, these are not, I repeat not, coffins. And the men inside are not laboratory specimens to be dissected. They are human beings, and, unless told otherwise, I assume they have the same rights to life as the rest of the population."
Morrison sneered at him, "I have orders from General Alderton to remove the bodies and have them shipped to the Baltimore labs immediately."
"And my orders come from Minister Lermontov himself," Prescott said, as he too entered the room.
At the mention of the name of one of the most powerful men on earth, Morrison went white and Taylor looked about to faint.
"I informed Minster Lermontov of our find, and he is sending the appropriate experts here to revive the two men. I wish to talk to Dr. Gethin, the rest of you may go."
"Thank you for your support Madeleine," Gethin said, as she picked up her burdens again.
"You're welcome, Dr. Gethin," she replied as she left, leaving them alone in the room.
Gethin went over to the chambers and examined the lights, on each one, they seemed to be the same as when he'd last looked. He gently pushed each one back into their original position, and checked that none of the wires from the power source showed any sign of strain.
Prescott, stared down at the two men. "I wonder who they are.... They must have been very important to someone for them to go to all this trouble."
"The answer may be in the book that I gave to Madeleine to preserve. I've not worked with her before but I know her reputation... she very good."
Prescott nodded absently, then said, "I'll set guards that I know I can trust - I'm a little concerned after that scene with Morrison...." He punched some numbers on his phone and started giving orders for the room's protection.
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
July 16, 2313I am attaching a full report of our finds yesterday, and an account of some trouble we had.
RG
~~~~~~~~~~
From: General Andrei Kamarov
To: Dr. Robert Gethin
July 16, 2313Thank you for your report. I shall make some enquiries about the troublemakers.
Kamarov
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
July 18, 2313The cryogenics experts and medics arrived today. They have set up a hospital and containment area inside the main cavern. The Space life-support expert, Patrick Ignu, has inspected the chambers, and the power supply. He proposes to move them into the secure area tomorrow, once they have tested all their equipment. He is confident that he can revive the two men. They also have two modern cryo-chambers available should they need to be transferred for any reason.
Madeleine Wright has given me a transcript of the book (attached), a personal journal of sorts. It was placed with them to read when they were woken and I have asked that copies of the transcript be made available. I trust this meets with your approval. The men are named in it as Fox and Alex, one of whom also seems to be named Mulder. There also some descriptions of the alien invasion.
RG
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
July 19, 2313The transfer of the chambers from the 5th level to the main cavern went uneventfully. The engineers had been checking out the elevators, re-cabling the goods lift since we've been here and they have done an excellent job in a remarkably short space of time.
RG
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
July 20, 2313The chambers have been placed in a very dimly lit, temperature controlled room, so that no tissue damage should occur, particularly to the eyes.
The revival process was started at 7pm, huge tanks of nutrients, which can be refilled from outside the room, have been attached to the appropriate intakes. Sensors have been placed on the outside of the glass chambers, and we have clear pictures of the control panels at the foot of each one.
Now all we can do is wait....
RG
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
July 22, 2313The chambers unlatched themselves about 3am the morning. The monitors show a slightly increased heartbeat, and some nutrients are entering the bodies. Dr. Ignu seems very pleased with the progress.
RG
-oo00oo-
As the life signs got stronger the nanites recognized their 'wake up' call, using the arteries, veins and capillaries to inspect their hosts, and repairing any damage they discovered. Drawing on the supplied nutrients to aid their activities. The nanites compared the DNA blueprint to the host's condition and renewed teeth, filled cavities, and mended bone where there had been breaks, and because of the blueprint, and because they had no way of knowing any different, they started to re-grow Alex's arm.
-oo00oo-
From: General Andrei Kamarov
To: Dr. Robert Gethin
August 1, 2313By tracing the references from the journal, we believe we have names for your 'sleepers'. Fox, is definitely Fox William Mulder, born October 13 1961. Alex, is probably Alexander Nicolai Krycek, born November 27, 1968.
Kamarov
-oo00oo-
From: Dr. Robert Gethin
To: General Andrei Kamarov
August 7, 2313They're awake. Very disorientated, naturally. But both have been checked out by the space-medics, and they are in excellent condition. They have now been moved from the chambers into beds.
We are going to have to break it to them very gently that they have been asleep for over 300 years.
RG
-oo00oo-
"That's the way to the zoo,
That's the way to the zoo.
The monkey house is nearly full
But there's room enough for you.
Take a bus to Regent's Park,
Make haste before it shuts.
I'll come again on Monday
And I'll bring you lots of nuts."~ unknown c. 1883
A whirlwind. That's what the past week had been, a virtual whirlwind. Leaving his makeshift quarters, medical student Wade du Prés (First Class) pondered the recent events that had catapulted him from the relative quiet of the medical university to this hole in the ground.
Passing along the tight corridors, he squinted in the harsh floodlights the military had erected at intervals along the wall. Pushing the reading glasses further up his nose, Wade held his clipboard close to his chest.
For his twenty-years, Wade had the fresh open-faced look of sixteen. Pushing his blonde hair behind his ears, he self-consciously eased past a group of soldiers marching by. The presence of so many members of the Consortium's Military made him nervous. Especially since the previous night. He'd been returning to his room, when he was stopped by two soldiers in an adjoining corridor. Their brawny frames blocked the passage, and there was no way around them. Wade swallowed hard as the nearest one had approached him.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?" the soldier smirked. He was well over six-feet, with a mass of muscle beneath his combat fatigues.
"Looks like a tasty piece of medical meat to me, eh O'Brien?" his colleague replied, walking up and placing a large hand on Wade's quivering shoulder.
Having led a sheltered life in the university, Wade had only heard stories of the outside world. With most young women hauled off to the Consortium Breeding Camps, men were forced to find gratification among each other. The military controlled everything, and it was death to defy them. Wade had known from an early age that he was attracted to men, but he'd never acted on it. He was too wrapped up in his studies to delve into pleasures of the flesh. And now here he was faced with it.
Before the two soldiers could act upon their desires, a bellow from General Kamarov echoed down the corridor, "First-Class du Prés!" He was a striking man in his mid-fifties, and seemed to instill fear in his troops. Thankfully, the general had only wanted to know the whereabouts of Dr. Gethin. Relaying the information as quickly as he could, the general had huffed and sent Wade on his way.
Wade's thoughts returned to the present. Hearing the soldiers' booted feet receding into the distance, Wade chastised himself for worrying. He was here to do a job, something he'd trained for most of his young life. Graduating at the top of his class, he'd immediately entered the study of cryogenics and bio-engineering. Hand picked from the university by Doctor Robert Gethin, Wade had found studying under his mentor to be a peaceful distraction. Although he was descended from the first families, Wade had lost his a long time ago. His sister Nicola had disappeared; rumoured to have been forcibly taken to one of the breeding camps. It was an established fate for young women with the right DNA. Wade's one and only wish was to earn enough money from the project to somehow find her.
The medical team had been hastily drafted into the Military Consortium's latest project. Dr. Gethin had insisted on Wade accompanying them; his expertise in cryogenics being needed. The first few days had been disorienting in the extreme. Dr. Gethin and the team had been rushed into the bowels of the excavated building. Everywhere Wade turned, he could hear General Kamarov barking orders to someone.
Viewing the cryogenic chambers for the first time had been awe-inspiring. While the medics went to work activating the revival process, Wade had been forced to stay in the back longing to take part. He consulted with Dr. Ignu and Dr. Gethin from time to time, taking notes all the while. When the process had been completed, Dr. Gethin briefed Wade on 'the subjects' condition. The word 'subjects' bothered Wade terribly. The same term they used for breeding camp 'volunteers'. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Wade preferred to call them by their names in any conversation.
Dr. Gethin had explained earlier that he was conscripted to appear before General Kamarov for a meeting. He was leaving the explanations up to Wade and Dr. Ignu. The subjects had been separated into different recovery rooms, in the hopes that it would be easier to explain their situation apart.
Heart pounding rapidly, Wade descended a flight of steps. The prospect of meeting someone who had successfully survived cryogenic sleep for three-hundred years filled his head with excitement. One thing troubled him: what was the Military Consortium's interest in all of this?
He soon found himself before the door to SUBJECT X-1. Sighing heavily, Wade checked his clipboard. Finding that Subject X-1 was Fox Mulder, he went over the speech he'd prepared one more time, then opened the door with the miliary slide card. A low hum emitted and the door slowly opened.
Stepping inside, the young student found the room filled with medical equipment, diagnostic computers, and one of the advanced hospital beds. Hearing the door lock behind him, Wade took a few tentative steps toward the bed. For some strange reason, he felt even more nervous than before. His green eyes moved up the length of the bed to the face of the figure lying upon it.
Fox Mulder's eyes flickered open, and his lips parted. "Where the hell am I?" he asked.
Wade felt his heart drop. Never in his life had he seen a more beautiful man. Feeling the clipboard slipping from his fingers, Wade grasped it tightly. "H-Hello," he stammered, completely forgetting his speech.
Mulder eyed the young man before him. He was little more than a boy, but at least he could talk. When he'd woken, Mulder had faced a group of strangers in white coats and jumpsuits. He'd been poked, prodded and stared at continuously. He was unable to speak at first, but when he finally found his voice, no-one would answer his questions. He began to wonder if he'd been trapped in an asylum with the patients n charge. Everything still seemed hazy, as if the past few days had been a waking nightmare. The one thing he remembered was the Smoking Man. Were these "doctors" in his employ?
Mulder tried to sit up, but his head weighed a ton. "How are you feeling?" the boy asked, full of concern.
"Like I've been hit by the world's biggest hangover, Mulder replied, dryly.
Wade regained his composure and checked Fox Mulder's vitals on a nearby computer screen. Mulder watched him carefully. "Who are you?"
"Wade du Prés," he answered, scribbling something on the clipboard. "I'm a first class student drafted with the medical team."
Mulder threw the starched sheets off the bed and tried to get up. A wave of dizziness overtook him. "Be careful!" Wade exclaimed, gently pushing him back down. As he started to covered Fox Mulder, he couldn't help but noticed the man's muscular legs. 'No deterioration there.' Wade shook his head to clear his thoughts.
Mulder reached out and took hold of his arm firmly. "Look, where am I? What's going on here?"
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Wade inhaled deeply. "Mr. Mulder, what is the last thing you remember?"
Mulder eased back into his pillow, concentrating on the vague memories in his mind. He remembered tracking down CSM... Krycek was being held by CSM... A sharp pain... "It seems so far away," he admitted, biting his full, bottom lip.
"I don't know how to break this to you," Wade began.
"Gently," Mulder replied, with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
"You were placed inside a cryogenic unit in the year 1999... which was approximately 314 years ago..."
-oo00oo-
General Andrei Kamarov watched the events unfold on a computer screen in his makeshift office. Hidden cameras were placed in both recovery rooms. Standing behind him, Dr. Robert Gethin smiled with satisfaction.
"The retrieval was a complete success," he whispered.
General Kamarov ignored him, and returned his attention to the screen. First Class du Prés was explaining the situation to a shocked Subject X-1, while Dr. Ignu entered the recovery room of Subject X-2. A sly grin spread across the general's features...