Musings Of A Questionably Allied Ratboy

"Rebels have attacked and burned project facilities in New Mexico and the Southwest. The medical staff at our Arizona research facility's been slain. The train-car deaths cost us. Work on the human/alien hybrids will suffer the death of Dr. Openshaw."

Every once in awhile I get called to play reporter to the old men. The last time was last year when the burnings started. I hate these little sessions. But I'm just a lackey to these men. A disposable man who's to be put on a shelf until needed then put away when the job is done. *If* I survive the job I'm given of course. The men always act as though the fate of the world matters during these meetings. Most of the time they're just scheming to keep one of their half-assed side projects under wraps. The old men just like to think it's that much more important. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that this time it may actually be that important.

"What do they want?"

"To expose our enterprise -- everything we've worked for."

Exposure. That is always the Smoker's main concern. Sometimes I'm not so sure that exposure would be a bad thing. When I was first recruited I thought I was saving the world. Now I know that that is not the case. But I'm too much of a pragmatist to put my life on the line to expose the conspirators.

"Well, some hotshot reporter's going to put the pieces together not to mention law enforcement."

"We have our control on the federal agencies. Our new man at the FBI's very capable of diverting attention," the Smoker says.

Surely he is not speaking of his son, Baby Spender. Spender is a punk. All he's interested in is finding his mommy. He's even more pathetic than Mulder is.

"Why not side with the rebels... join their alien resistance?"

The room becomes very quiet. Old Smokey looks at the man as though he'd grown a third head

"It's an option," another elder said.

"It's an option you declined long ago. Resistance was futile then, why would it be any less so now?" I ask.

Actually, that's not true. Resistance is just more difficult than serving. These men like the easy life too much to bother with resistance.

"That's why you voted against it," I continue. "Against men like Bill Mulder. Collaboration has allowed you to prepare... to stall colonization. How close are you to developing a human/alien hybrid? That alone ensures your survival."

It ensures nothing actually. But if these men insist on believing such nonsense I'm going to feed it to them.

"As slave laborers for the aliens."

I'm not to crazy about the slavery part myself. But they've never believed that they would be slaves. Since when did... Never mind. I see what's going on.

"What about your vaccine? By collaborating, you bought yourself time to secretly develop a way to combat the aliens -- to fight the future," I tell him.

I hope you're taking the hint here.

"Alex, enough! For 50 years, we've worked on this project -- 50 years since Roswell. We can't sacrifice ourselves for every new threat, can we now."

So Old Smokey knows they've been infiltrated. This could be a unique opportunity to change my fate. Playing errand boy for imbeciles is beneath me. I'm not stupid, I'm an efficient killer, and God only knows I'm one of the few competent operators working in this group yet here I am playing reporter for a bunch of sniveling old men. Only one of them really has any balls and he's such a meglomanical prick that he'd sell his own mother for a slight larger power sphere.

Okay, so maybe I'm not exactly trustworthy. Neither are any of the men in this room. Who's to say that any of them are better suited to run things than *I* am. At least I'm not so arrogant as to think that the colonists will spare me after obliterating everyone else on earth. I hope the rebel has the sense to realize that some of us might be willing to work with them.

The meeting's finally over. It's time to make my move.

He's smoking again. Not that this is a surprise but one would think that after that cancer incident a couple of years ago he'd have given up the disgusting habit. Then again he probably thinks he'll always have an alien around to heal him.

Of course I don't really care if he chooses to kill himself by smoking. It would save me the trouble of having to do it later on but I do occasionally have to breathe the same air. Thankfully, those times don't come too often anymore.

As usual he doesn't bother to acknowledge my presence unless he's the one who calls. I'm going to have to speak first.

"I watch you," I say. "I see how these men listen to you. They respect you; they fear you. They all know it's you who's gotten them here. I learn from you but there's so much more hmmm. You've built this project and I know some day you'll have to pass it on."

I get so sick of the sycophantic groveling that comes with working with these old bastards. Unfortunately, it's the best way to appeal to their egos. They've lost their looks and young men and women will only allow these geezers to touch them in exchange for money so I am forced to play this ridiculous game where I try to get what I want by appealing to their imagined brilliance. It's pathetic really.

"You see nothing Alex..." he says.

I almost laughed. I see nothing? The old man has a lot of nerve. I'm not the one who's so wrapped up in a meglomanical fantasy of a familial dynasty ruling over the remains of humanity (assuming there *are* ruins to rule over) that I just turned away my best chance at success. Okay so I plan to modify his plans. He doesn't know that.

"...If you want to learn something you'll learn to keep your mouth shut. I've already chosen someone."

So you plan to pass your project down to your son. And you think *I* see nothing? *I* am not the one deluding myself into believing that a couple of job promotions will get Jeffery to do my bidding indefinitely without question. *I* am not the one who cannot, or will not see that Jeffery is his mother's, not his father's, son.

But I will be the one to exploit that fact.

Your scheme, your precious project, will fail and there will be nothing to pass on to anyone.

"I do see things you know. Things that you may want to be aware of." Like the fact that cooperation with the colonists is suicide and that the fact that your group has been infiltrated means that your current scheme is going to fail as well (Without me screwing things up with you and your son.) But I'll keep *that* to myself.

"Mulder's been to see Cassandra," I say.

*That* you should have already known you prick. How's that for a man you think talks too much?

The Smoker wants to get rid of the rebel who infiltrated the group tonight. He has requested my services as a chauffer. I'm sure there are worse ways to pass the time but I'm unable to think of one at the moment.

I hate these stupid chauffer jobs. I'm sure this is my punishment for what I said during our earlier conversation. This is his way of putting me in my place. Plus, the old man hates for someone to know something that he doesn't. Especially someone he considers as low as he considers me.

"Pull over."

When the car stops the old man gets out and starts speaking to his son. I watch father and son talk for a while before Junior replaces his old man in the back seat. Jeffery has the plam and he's not careful enough with it for my liking.

"Watch where you point that," I try to refrain from rolling my eyes. Old Smokey is sending a boy to do a man's job. Typical. It's a wonder the project hasn't fallen apart earlier.

This is just great. Not only does he plan to make me play chauffer but he also plans to rub my face in his rejection by forcing me to drive his heir around. If that weren't enough I'm going to have to kill the alien rebel because Junior won't be able to do the job which means I'll have to find another way to ingratiate myself with the rebels.

I say nothing to Jeffery as we drive to Silver Springs. Our conversation will come later. Fortunately, Junior wasn't feeling particularly chatty either so I didn't have to listen to him prattle. Despite the fact that this mission was going to complicate my plan to cozy up to the rebels this could be just the chance I need to ruin the inheritance line of Old Smokey's project. Maybe this night won't be a complete loss after all.

I can't believe that the Smoker thought that this punk would make a decent heir. He didn't even get the plam open when he tried to kill the infiltrating alien rebel. Loser. He's lucky that I was here to save his sorry ass.

I finish cleaning up a bit and look at Jeffery. He looks like he's about to vomit. He's all green and sweaty. It's definitely an image that inspires confidence. I can see why the Smoker would want him to continue the project instead of me. Idiot.

I don't know why I'm so pissed about being rejected as Smokey's heir. It's not like I *want* the project to succeed but... I don't know; getting rejected is a slap in the face even if you really didn't want what you've been rejected from. Anyway, I've got more important things to do than to bitch about being rejected; like driving a wedge between Old Smokey and his son.

"You've never seen one before, have you?"

Junior shakes his head. Of course he hasn't seen one; he doesn't believe they exist. All this time he's been sneering at Mulder for believing and it was Mulder who was right. Baby Spender probably feels very small right now. I'm about to make him feel worse.

"It's shocking at first. The acceptance of the idea, it's... it's something you thought only children and fools believed in. It undermines your beliefs -- in yourself, in the world... but then you come to understand."

"Understand what?" He asks.

I want to say, "that you've had your head firmly planted in your ass."

"Well, the responsibility that this knowledge demands by the men who have it. The great sacrifice by great men like your father," I say instead.

I can't believe I'm telling Jeffery what a great man his father is without choking on the words. I should get an academy award for this performance.

And the award for the greatest bullshit story ever told without choking goes to... Alex Krycek!

"What sacrifice?" Jeffery asks. I can't believe he doesn't know.

"The sacrifice of your mother."

"What do you know about that?"

A hell of a lot more than you seem to.

"Just that she's... been the subject of an experiment for 25 years," I tell him, feigning surprise at his ignorance.

Jeffery looks pained. "My father's involved in that? Is he?"

I want to give him a buck so he can buy a clue. I can't believe that Old Smokey could think that this clueless twit would be a better successor than I would be. I can't believe I'm still smarting from the Smoker's rejection.

"Your father directs the experiments."

Hello! Wake up Junior! Did you really think your meteoric rise in the FBI was due to your intelligence and good looks? You're short in both departments.

"Your father directs the experiments."

"So... I'm protecting her now so the experiments can continue?"

The incredulity Baby Spender is showing is laughable.

"That's why he put you on the X-Files. That's why your father sent you here tonight. You're protecting the project, Jeff. Making the sacrifices; so that you can be a great man, too."

That may have been over the top. Still, it seems to have the effect I intended. Jeff looks absolutely disgusted with his father, himself, the project, and me. Mission accomplished.

"I'll be my own great man."

Yeah right. Like you'd live long enough.

I'm stuck in flunky reporter mode again. These men want to rule the world but God forbid any of them should bother to look at a computer screen or read a report for themselves. The only one who does is Old Smokey. I guess that's why he's the real power broker in the group.

"I recovered all the medical records form the hospital. The doctors who examined her before she escaped are telling us Cassandra Spender may be the culmination of 25 years of this group's finest efforts."

Yeah if you consider butchery a fine effort. I may be a killer but at least when I'm done the person has been put out of their misery. These men give the Marquis de Sade a bad name.

"That's why the rebels struck," one of the elders said. "They were trying to kill her."

"They killed everyone but her." Did I say that out loud? At least I didn't add "dumb ass" to it. "They struck to keep her alive -- keep us from killing her." At least to embarrass us before doing what we should have done in the first place.

The Cancerman likes to refer to the group as their generations best and brightest. I find it hard to believe. Especially at times like these when I have to listen to these men come up with idiotic answers to reasonably simple questions.

"What do the rebels want?" Another of the old man asks.

"To destroy us. They know that when the aliens learn of Cassandra, colonization will begin."

He says that like destroying the project is a bad thing.

"We must destroy Cassandra."

"No. Let colonization begin. We must turn over Cassandra. Save ourselves."

More cretinism. "Save ourselves." I've seen this man use people and then throw them away. I can't believe he can't see that he's being used in the same way.

"Bill Mulder was against this. He said this would be our tragic mistake."

"Bill Mulder sacrificed his only daughter because he knew this day would arrive. What choice have we... if you want to see your families survive? If we want to see those we sacrificed returned to us?"

I listen intently as the old men argue. There's no point in putting my two cents in. They've already decided, or rather Old Smokey has already decided where to place their fate. Some of us may have to make our own plans.

I sit in the room where not too long ago I watched the old men decide the fate of the world. They have left, no doubt to reap the rewards of fifty years of working against mankind. I hope they get what they deserve.

I hear footsteps approaching, announcing the arrival of the man I was waiting for. I never expected the old men to come back but I had no doubt that the clueless heir apparent would return. He's had awhile to stew on the information I'd fed him earlier and he'd be looking for his father to either confirm or deny what I'd told him before. If he had any sense at all he'd learn that his father is not someone to whom he should turn. Spender isn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box.

"You're looking for your father. He's gone. They've all gone," I tell him.

Baby Spender is startled. I don't think he saw me in the shadows. "But they're coming back."

"No. No, they left for good," I told him.

"What do you mean?"

What do you mean, "what do you mean?" What are you stupid?

"Well, they've abandoned these offices."

"But they've been here for 50 years," he's almost whining. I can tell he's not getting the big picture.

"I don't think you understand," I tell him.

There's an understatement.

"Where did they go?"

"To West Virginia. They'll be transported by the colonists and begin medical preparations to receive the hybrid genes. Except for your father. He's gone to get your mother."

At least that's what they think.

"No one can get to her. I've got her secured away."

Your mother couldn't be less secure if you closed her up in a room with a piece of string keeping the door closed.

I can't believe it. This man is even more clueless than I thought he was. I told him that he was put into the X- Files to continue the work. Did it not occur to him that his partner might have been put into the X- Files for the same reason? The stricken look on his face is comical. I want to laugh.

"Secured away? He's already had his doctors looking at her."

"I've got her under guard."

"She's probably being prepared as we speak, Jeffrey." Moron.

Jeffery nearly trips in his haste to leave.

I hope I'm not too late. With the seeds of doubt planted into Jeffery's head I needed to look after my own survival. Unlike Old Smokey, I think that joining forces with the alien rebels is the best chance for survival. And to join forces with the aliens I'm going to need something they want and that is the alien fetus. Only a fool would depend only on his charm and powers of persuasion.

There's a body on the floor of the cryolab when I get there. This is not a good sign.

I ignore the body and pull out the canister that the alien fetus is in. It's empty. The fetus is gone. I'm screwed. I have nothing to bargain with.

I don't know what I'm going to do next but I know that hanging around the base is *not* a good idea. As I'm walking down the halls I hear a familiar voice.

"Krycek! I'm trying to get out of here."

I turn to see Baby Spender in a doorway. What does he mean he's trying to get out of here? No one's going to stop him from leaving.

"What are you talking about?"

"We can't get past security. They won't recognize my authority to remove a patient."

We? Cassandra Spender cannot still be here. Who is he talking about? I look past Spender into the room. Marita Covarrubias is standing behind Spender.

I barely recognize her. The haughty blonde who double- crossed me looks like a shell of her former self. Her hair is ratty and her eyes are red-rimmed. About a year ago when the Brit took the vaccine from me I had railed about it being the means to save Marita. By the looks of her I'm guessing that whatever happened to her since I last saw her was a lot worse on her than me killing her would have been. I can barely believe I'd slept with her.

"My father did this to her. She wants to tell her story," Spender continues.

Idiot! What the hell does he think he's doing? If the world doesn't come to an end with the alien colonists taking over the rebels will start burning things and people to a crisp. And from the looks of things, I'm guessing that the rebels have won.

"You sorry son of a bitch. You don't get it, do you? It's all going to hell. The rebels are going to win. They took it."

"They took what?"

I look at Marita before leaving. If she wants to explain it she can. I don't have the time.

I missed the excitement at El Rico. Of course once I realized that the rebels had the alien fetus you couldn't pay me to go to El Rico. I read about the mass burning in the paper. It couldn't have happened to a more deserving bunch.

Baby Spender handed the X-Files back to Mulder and Scully. It looks as though someone else will have to do the dirty work of keeping Mulder down. I'm sure a suitable candidate will make him or herself available.

After handing the X-Files back to Mulder and Scully, Spender was found in the office. He'd been shot. He then disappeared from the hospital. I suspect that Baby Spender will be paying dearly for turning against his father.

As for me, I'm still trying to figure out how to ingratiate myself with the rebels. In the meantime, I'm keeping a low profile. I know that Fowley has survived El Rico. I suspect that the Smoker did as well since I can't imagine anyone else who'd care enough to shoot Spender. I'm guessing that they will try to pick up the pieces and put the group back together. I may be interested in pretending to help them to that end. I may have to sabotage another scheme again.