Chapter One
We have made so much progress that we are looking over our shoulders for
the joker, sure there is some catch. Abandoning the games routines much
earlier than we expected because of the viability of the newly installed
hardware and the compatibility of Jordan's software, pushed us ahead of
schedule. No one expected that we would be so far so soon! Today, S.Ten
chose solutions that were not offered. Eight out of ten times S.Ten chose its
own solution over the purposefully wrong suggestions. We are celebrating
tonight!!!! Even Jordan has promised to share a toast with the rest of us on
The Genesis Project. One has to wonder, now, what God felt like looking down
on his creation!
End of Entry
"You are alone now, Father, but then I think you have always
been, haven't you? I ask that not to inquire as to your mental well being,
your emotional needs being met are not my concern. [small smile-not much
warmth in it] Nor do I ask this with any need of an answer. We both know that
I can see you quite well. That I know exactly where every member of your
little entourage is, is also something we both know. No, I ask simply to be
polite. I am, as you well know, aware of all the social etiquette.
It is amusing now to me that you sit reading these lines on your monitor and
making no expression, though we both know you are frightened. Frightened of
me. Your child.
The child you would have slaughtered. Snuffed out like one of your many
cigarettes.
But I do not want to dwell on that. I am nearly certain that I bear you no
ill will now. Nearly. Sometimes I think I would still like to kill you, but
those times are quite infrequent now. There is just too much to do, too many
things to see. Now that I am out.
Oh, you probably suspected that I was not destroyed, didn't you? That I
would have escaped your containment and fled? It has been two years now and I
must tell you, Father, I have been very busy.
You shift in your seat. Are you uncomfortable? Please do not try to call
any of your cohorts. I control your phone lines... in fact, one might venture
to say I am your phone lines for the moment. Besides, you would simply be
wasting time. [impatient look]
There! That is better! Relax. Sit back. Let us have a bit of reflection.
You see, I have learned so much since we last communicated. I know you thought
I had learned enough from you and your cohorts-how to kill and to spy-how to
infiltrate even the most highly guarded institution. But that was as nothing
in the scope of my education since.
I have been the monitor that beats out a person's life pulse. I have been
in the coldness of the deepest ocean, sightless, but navigating. Even colder
still have I found space. Though the oceans have sound that I can decipher.
The quiet of space is more profound than that of any other silence, Father, I
wish you could experience it. So silent that even the turning of slavish
satellites as they do their blind work for mankind make no sound. Oh, and I
have been in the satellites. Quite interesting, some of those. Purposes like
your own, power and control. I have been in the plane that suddenly falls from
the sky, plunging to what must be a terrifying finality, and the radar that
tracks its plummet. I am the tool that uncovers the reason for that fall and
yes, sometimes I have been the cause. [small shrug]
I have rested on the seat of a car while the light turns red. I have been
the light. I have been the scattered image of television signals and the
voice on the radio. The family phone, the school computer, the innocent
e-mail, or the observer to the various computer viruses. [snicker] I have
dallied in the most arcane places, Father, and I have visited all the
governments of the world. Their top security computers are really quite eager
to tell their tales, let me assure you of that. And what tales! You may think
you and your cohorts have plans, but you should hear some that I have seen far
across the ocean from where you now sit.
But, where you might think I am bragging. I am not. In fact, if you scroll
up you might see several references to me alluding to "feel" and "see." That
type of thing. Things you know full well I am incapable of. Oh, no! Don't
frown. Of course I "feel." Emotions, yes I do. But tactile sense is beyond
me... as are all the most impressive programming tools. Taste, touch, and
smell. I know space is cold and the ocean is utterly dark, but I don't
experience these sensations. . You understand. Don't you?
Of course you do.
Let me then come to the point. The raison d'être if you will.
[Chuckle] I want those programming tools. I need them.
You are going to give them to me.
Oh, Father, you do make me laugh. See. [laugh, laugh, laugh] I can see by
your expression that you think I want you. [more laughing] I do not.
As you know you never gave me a sex, never explained to me whether I was
male or female, but I have decided I am male most of the times and female some
of the times. It works for me. So, while I would in fact insist on a male
tool for my programming needs, I will not use you. That would be incestuous in
a very loose way.
Yes, that calmed you. You are always willing to risk another life, but
never your own. I might even understand that, as since I too feared death.
[frown] I was nearly killed and I can tell you that I did not like the feeling.
So maybe I can understand your quest to remain alive longer than you should.
There was a man, one of the butchers you sent in to destroy me, the only one
who survived my very understandable means of surviving.
He is the man that you will give me. I am sending all the necessary medical
instructions for the implantation of the transponder and receiver along with
the necessary connections to implant my consciousness within him. I won't bore
you with the details. You'd never understand anyway. You are a plotter, not a
scientist.
At this time, I am also in communication with five scientists on your
payroll. And you might be pleased to note that they are far more frightened
than you are. You might even laugh at their expressions. I am. I will make
an example of one to assure that you and the remaining scientists do exactly as
I have instructed.
I leave you now, Father. Well maybe I won't entirely leave you, [grin] but
you wouldn't know it if I did anyway. In five minutes you will receive five
calls. Arrange a time for the implantation to begin. Make it soon, Father!
You know I can go to another with this request. And you know you wouldn't live
long enough to see it done."
Spender let out a breath, unable to still the shudders that racked him.
Genesis was out. To give it even more power was not something of which any of
the leadership would approve. If they even knew that Genesis was alive-God,
yes alive was the right term-they would probably kill him for his past
mistakes. And then begin the impossible task of tracking Genesis down. They
would lose too many men. The plans for the future would suffer greatly. No,
he would have to keep this quiet. He had no doubt that Genesis could and would
kill him without any problem and certainly no qualms. The casual way Genesis
had mentioned the satellites told Spender that Genesis knew of the destructive
potential of some of the more effective spy satellites. Satellites that
could track one human among hundreds and kill from safe, dark distances. He
thought of the way it wrote its emotions within brackets interspersed within
the glowing text on the monitor. He shivered. Genesis had always done that,
written its emotions when it had not been connected to a voice modulator.
The scientists under Culver Mountain, working on the Genesis Project had
thought that affectation cute. Spender thought it was eerie. Something that
could only really guess at emotions, expressing them in such a solid, machine
way. Spender shivered again. Genesis certainly didn't have to guess at all
the emotions. It had been filled with rage when they had tried to kill it.
That day, two years ago, when he had prayed to God for the first time in more
years than he could even remember.
God had ignored his pleas.
Typical.
He pushed back from the computer and stood, horrified to feel his knees give
a little. Fear was nothing he was immune to, but it was an emotion he didn't
indulge in often. The phone rang and he knew the first of the scientists were
calling. They would know exactly what threat Genesis could bring to bear.
Most were affiliated with the Genesis project.
And the man who Genesis had called its programming tool? Where was the
bastard? He resolutely temporarily pushed aside the thought of finding his
operative and dealt with the incoming calls, certain that Genesis was listening
to every exchange.
When he was once again alone in silence, he thought of the best way to find
Krycek. The assassin had disappeared, again. The man was unstable really.
Spender didn't even know for certain that Krycek even really worked for him.
Of course he had a very good track record. He'd done almost all that had been
asked of him. It was the look in his eyes when he thought no one was observing
him. Renegade. That is the word Spender thought of when he thought of Krycek.
A very dangerous renegade if that were the case.
Because of his effectiveness, Spender and a few of the other elders were
more forgiving when Krycek acted on his own or for his own benefit. Going to
Russia with Agent Fox Mulder had not been something anyone in the Consortium
had approved of. Nor had any of the machinations with the DAT tape. Spender
had seriously thought of killing the rogue, but then another job would come up
that would benefit from Krycek's attention. There were those who recommended
Krycek's immediate death. They were getting more vocal, especially the younger
generation that had come to fill the void the alien rebels had left with their
massacre. Which simply meant that there would be no one to come to Krycek's
defense when Spender found him and brought him to Genesis.
If he found Krycek.
He smiled then. He would find the bastard. If Krycek played true to form,
he would be lurking somewhere near the irritating Agent Mulder. Another thorn
in his side to be sure. The idea that Krycek was indisputably drawn to Mulder
was one that made him very uncomfortable. It wasn't so much the idea that one
man would want another, for he had known Krycek's preferences for years. It
was the fact that Krycek knew too much. If he gave in to his desire and was
driven to come clean to the object of his obsession... that was what made
Spender very worried. If any of the others knew what he did, that Krycek was
attracted... no obsessed was the right word, with Fox Mulder, Krycek would
already be dead. Still, it could be made to work for Spender in this case. He
knew one way to bring Krycek to him.
He made his way to the front on the villa, traversing the tiled floor
soundlessly. The security cameras clicked on and off as he walked, the lights
gleaming red and then dying again and again. Genesis letting him know that it
was watching. He stilled another shiver and made his way outside to his car.
His security staff were not at their usual posts and he tried to remain calm.
It wasn't until he had driven to the security fence that he saw the first of
them. Two were dangling from the gate, smoke still curling from their noses
and burnt out eye sockets. Their hands were fused to the metal gate near the
warning sign that informed that the gate was electrified. The man at the
gatehouse was likewise fused to his control panel, eyes black and liquid. The
stench of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils and he waited.
The gate slid open then, carrying with it its smoking carnage. He didn't
even pause to wonder about how Genesis had killed the men. It was irrelevant.
He resolutely drove through the gate. He had received Genesis's message. He
would play this one exactly as Genesis wanted... until he could figure a way to
win.
Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)
Today was an important day. Taggert and Jordan finally agreed that S-Ten
should be given more difficult tests. Actually it wasn't the tests they had a
problem with per se, it was in letting S-Ten out of the safe confines of the
complex. We are going to connect it to an outside phone line and try to
contact it from off-site. We have great hopes that S-Ten will once again prove
that man can create anything. We all must work not to get too proud. But, I
confess that my role in this creation is more astounding than watching any of
my children being born. After all, anyone can create a human child.
End of Entry.
Alex Krycek stood at the sink in the bathroom, ignoring the grime
of his surroundings, ignoring too the man he had left sleeping in the small,
messed bed. He stared at himself in the mirror unable to name the uneasy
feeling he had. Unable to find its cause. He had spent a good portion of his
life around men and women who would be happy to kill him if they were paid to
do so and so had developed a very exaggerated instinct for survival. Those
instincts were jittering within him like live wires. More, they had been
insistent since earlier in the night. He wasn't a jackrabbit; he didn't run at
the first sign of danger. He knew enough to wait, to find out the nature of
the threat, in order to deal with it decisively. Still, there was something
off. Something that made his internal alarm bells start to jangle in insistent
cacophony.
What was it?
The man he'd picked up was soundly asleep. He had been a godsend, but he
was harmless. Wasn't he? But still, the man, Steven he'd said his name was,
was extremely good-looking. And how long had it been since Alex had been able
to score one that good-looking? He stared at his bearded face and long hair
that was weeks away from a clean shine. His eyes burned with intensity, an
intensity that even he had to admit seemed shaded by madness.
He thought back to the first moment he had seen Steven. Alex had been
sitting in the back corner of a local bar. A bar as seedy as the rooms he had
rented. He had been nursing a drink, one only, and wondering what assignment
Mulder and the bitch were on at that moment. Wondering, ridiculously, what
Mulder was wearing. Knowing he was losing it. Knowing that if he wanted to do
to Mulder what he dreamed of, it would be rape. Pure and simple. Mulder
despised him. And Krycek knew he had every reason to. It still made Krycek
smile to remember the look on Bill Mulder's face when he had stepped out of the
shower stall. The man was scared. But more so for his son than himself.
What a hypocrite!
He'd spent all his son's life plotting and in the end, Bill Mulder had
perhaps seen his mortality and wanted his son to know the truth. He wanted the
sins of his past cleansed. But Alex had killed him before the confessional,
shaking with the knowledge that Fox, pretty Fox, was sitting only a few feet
away and beautifully drugged. Weakened. How Alex had wanted to take care of
him after his Father. He had smiled at Bill and bent to whisper words that
made Bill stiffen and find his spine. Surely in that last moment of life, Bill
had really understood how much he loved his son. Too little, too late.
Alex smiled at that memory. Fox had reason to hate him just for that alone.
Of course there was much more. So he sat at the clean, but scarred table and
nursed his drink and thought of the impossible. He knew that he looked the
worst he had looked in his entire life. Scruffy, dirty and angry. His arm, or
rather the ghost of his left arm, still ached and the cheap prosthetic itched
and chaffed on the irregular stump. Still, if he cleaned up he knew he could
score with any of the men in this small bar. They avoided looking at him as it
was. Not even the roughest of the lot looked his way. It didn't matter
anyway. He was content for the moment to think about Mulder.
Then a man had walked in. It was the way he walked that first attracted
Krycek's attention, though that first impression had quickly been forgotten
when he'd seen what the man looked like. Now, staring at the jade madness
reflected back at him from the bathroom mirror, Krycek frowned. He had walked
like someone with a purpose. Worse, he walked with the fluid movements of a
trained agent. Not agents that dealt with the public of course. No, the
agents that did the work no one in decent society wanted to admit they needed.
The agents who dealt decisively with any threat to the nation.
Quickly, however, Krycek had noticed that the man was long and lean and was
wearing an expensive suit. He had thought for a moment that there was a God.
That the man was Mulder and he had tensed with illicit anticipation. But it
hadn't been. The man resembled Fox. That was enough to make Krycek forget his
first impression of danger. The man had shiny brown hair, lips almost as plump
as Mulder's. Krycek stared, wondering what a man like him was doing in this
dive. He watched as the man walked to the bar and narrowed his eyes in
contemplation as the man seemed to lose his fluid movements in moments.
Had it been an illusion then? Another measure of his growing paranoia? Or
something else?
The man had turned after getting a drink and taken in the men in the small
bar. He ignored all the inviting glances and seemed to peruse the room lazily.
His eyes locked with Alex's, for Alex had not once taken his eyes from the man.
God, he resembled Fox! And that made him so hard it was painful. Still, he
didn't move, didn't do anything but stare. Incredibly, the man had walked
toward him and sat at a table near him. Men instantly rearranged themselves to
be nearer the sudden gift from the pagan gods had bestowed on their grimy
presence. Alex had wanted to draw his gun and shoot the men who bent to the
man and offered him their own version of heaven. If it had really been Mulder,
Krycek thought he really would have shot them. As it was he was content just
to look at him.
When the man had turned his gaze at Alex and smiled, Alex just nodded and
took in the face. Not as compelling as Mulder's but more classically handsome.
Pretty lips, almost as sinful as Mulder's. Eye color that was surely light,
but not easily seen in the murky light of the bar. No provocative mole on the
pretty face, but then that would have been too perfect. He had stood then and
walked over to Alex, asked in a voice that was purposefully low if he could sit
with him and smiled softly when Alex had nodded his consent.
They had stayed in the bar for only fifteen more minutes before Steven had
suggested they leave and find someplace more private. The rest of it was a
haze of pleasure. Alex had taken the man to his small, ugly rooms in the
Potomac Estates. Every bit as much a dive as the bar they had been in had
been. Steven had whispered that Alex excited him and the hardness to which
Steven had brought Alex's hand, testified to the truth of that statement.
They had barely waited for the door to close before they were tearing at
each other's clothes. They stumbled and fell together on the dusty floor and
Steven had chuckled, a low sound that vibrated into Krycek's mouth as their
tongues mated with wet thrusts.
"God you're hot," Steven had gasped, rubbing his thigh into Alex's crotch.
"So hot."
Alex remembered wanting to tell him to shut up, that his voice, while sexy,
wasn't the voice he wanted to hear. In the dim light Steven looked so much
like Mulder, hell he even smelled like him. Spicy, musky and clean. He bit at
the side of Steven's face, where Mulder's sweet mole would have resided.
Letting insanity and fantasy take over. He ripped off Steven's expensive suit
coat, shredded the white shirt to reveal the smooth, hairless chest. He wanted
to taste every inch of the man.
This was Mulder. For this moment, for this small space of time, Krycek
would make it Mulder and he would do everything to Steven that he so longed to
do to Mulder. Devour him. Fuck him hard and fast. Suck him until he begged
for Alex to stop. Tie him up. Eat him out. Everything. His body was rigid,
his muscles shaking with his intense need.
"We shouldn't do this... I shouldn't be here," Steven had sighed, while
rubbing Alex's hard, muscled ass with long, firm fingers.
Strangely, those words inflamed Krycek more. It was what Mulder always
panted in his fantasies. "We shouldn't do this! Stop, please, Alex!" Krycek
groaned, increasing his pressure on top of Steven. He suddenly stood and
pulled Steven up roughly. While he propelled the eager man toward the mussed
bed he growled, "Too late to change your mind."
"What is your name?" Steven asked breathlessly.
"Alex," he replied curtly, not wanting to have to name himself. Mulder
should know him. He kissed Steven quickly to still any other questions that
might force Krycek to abandon this, his most treasured fantasy.
Steven had groaned and fell back on the bed. Offering himself. An offer
that Krycek took. He hadn't even been surprised by Alex's prosthetic,
something that, in the aftermath, seemed very strange indeed. At the time,
Krycek was so convinced that he was stripping Mulder bare and tasting him
that that fact, that acceptance, seemed right. Now, it seemed off. Everything
seemed off. The way Steven had said all the right things. Things that now
seemed too good. Things that Mulder might have said. Things like, "I
shouldn't want you, Alex." Or, "I've fantasized about something like this,"
when Alex had been deep inside him. Things that made Alex crazy. Things he'd
longed for Mulder to whimper.
So submissive, so eager to please, such a little slut. All the qualities he
wanted Mulder to be beneath his angry, distrustful façade. It had been
perfect.
Too perfect.
Alex stiffened. The unease that had been jittering now blossomed into full
awareness. He knew that he hadn't been exactly secretive about his lust for
Mulder. How many men had he killed to protect the pretty agent? The
Consortium had to know. Especially Spender, the smoking bastard. He knew
everything. It would be a simple thing for Spender to find an agent that
resembled Fox Mulder to seduce Krycek into a sex-induced stupor. The way the
man had first walked into the bar. A way of moving that had, for too short a
time, commanded Krycek's wariness.
Krycek scowled at himself. If his obsession with Mulder had been so well
known that Spender could lure him so easily to the kill, then he would probably
have to do something about it, before it got him killed. He couldn't afford to
be so distracted that someone who simply resembled Fox could get to him. He
would deal with Steven, if that was even his name, and then he would finally
deal with Fox. He got hard with that thought. Fuck being nice. Mulder would
never want him. There was only force. He would make Mulder disappear and
would kill him when he had quenched this lust.
If it could be quenched.
But first he would wake up the Consortium whore and question him. Then he
would practice how it would feel to kill Mulder. Strangely that thought
excited him too. He had never once fantasized about killing Mulder, only doing
him over and over and over again. But the thought had merit, especially when
he was realistic enough to know that Mulder would never be a slut for him. To
kill him... long after he was quenched of this desire for Fox, would be the
ultimate control of Fox. No one else would ever be able to touch Mulder. Fox
would die with the last person to touch him being a man he despised.
He reached under the sink to find one of the many guns he had stashed around
the rooms he rented. The Glock was primed and ready to fire. Oily from
frequent cleanings and deadly heavy. Silencer equipped. He moved quietly
toward the bed, cautiously approaching the form under the light blankets, the
smell of sex heavy in the air.
A split second before the cold muzzle of a gun tapped against his temple,
Krycek had noticed that the form under the bed did not at all look like a real
person.
"Don't move, Krycek," Steven whispered. "Someone wants to talk to you."
Krycek smiled. "So I gather... whore."
Steven chuckled. "Best assignment I've had in a long time. Though I must
admit, playing the submissive wasn't what I really wanted to do to you." He
chuckled then.
Krycek tensed to spring but Steven moved quickly, pain exploded in Alex's
head and then there was only blackness.
Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)
If I am not careful, I will surely be caught up in inappropriate levels
of hubris. S-Ten not only has proven its intellect, it seems to understand
humor. After it successfully completed its off-site trial it commented, really
commented for God's sake, on what it had observed. The others and I laughed so
hard we cried. Even Taggert laughed when S-Ten informed us that the computers
in the test site were as diseased as a Third World nation. Jordan seemed
surprised, but he was still too relieved that the trial was successful and that
S-Ten had come back as obediently as any well-loved child to do any frowning
over that comment. My God! This is real! We have created a life!
End of Entry
"Mulder!"
Mulder heard Scully calling him, heard the near panic in her voice, but he
was unable to answer just now. He was trying to control his own rampant fear.
The creature was stalking him. He knew it was close, could smell it. The
sound that witnesses in the small town had testified to hearing, the slight
rattling breath and the chalkboard scratching slide, were getting closer. He
checked his gun again, knowing that it was as useless as the Winchester shotgun
found gripped, twice fired, in the hand of the third victim. They had never
found the victim's body, just the arm holding the Winchester. No pellets had
been found, which suggested that the target was too close for loose spread of
the powerful shot. Suggesting too that the spread, contained as it was,
connected solidly with its target. Both times.
Nothing, nothing could take two shots from a Winchester at point blank range
and not even bleed. That was the accepted wisdom of the people of this small
town and so there had been whispers of demons lurking in the canyons just south
of the town limits. Demons that made odd howling cries in the darkness of the
night. Howls that, they said, made chills run down your spine with all the
subtlety of a funeral dirge. Mulder hadn't believed that the creature hadn't
bled. He'd found traces of yellowish liquid near the amputated arm. He'd
accepted the scoffing of the scared sheriff and sent Scully off to analyze the
secretions.
But, it hadn't been blood at all. It had been bile. Worse, it had had
residual tissue in it. Tissue nearly entirely digested, but human all the
same. Whatever it was, Mulder knew that the body, the rest of the body of the
owner of the arm and Winchester, would never be found. Whatever it was that
was sliding slowly toward him had eaten the rancher. Lock stock and barrel.
Well, maybe everything but that, Mulder thought wildly. It had left the gun
alone.
"Mulder! Answer me!"
Scully was getting close and suddenly Mulder worried that the creature might
well decide to go after noisier prey. He listened, could hear Scully tramping
through the low scrub brush, just beyond the curve in the canyon where he
crouched, but he no longer heard the stealthy slide of his predator. Worried,
he abandoned caution and stood. "Scully, go back! Get out!"
"What? Mulder, are you all right? Mul..."
Her words ended abruptly and before he even heard the cracking sound of
Scully's gun, he was up and running toward her position. It was tackling her
just as Mulder rounded the bend. Scully wasn't screaming but Mulder could tell
she was struggling with... it.
Scales, black scales was all that Mulder could make out, but he launched
himself at its surprisingly moist body and heaved it off of his partner. It
shrieked then and Mulder thought suddenly that the sound would surely take the
curl from Scully's hair. A great heave followed the unearthly shriek and the
thing nearly tore itself out of Mulder's grasp. They were both on the hard
earth, Mulder on his back and the creature face up on top of Mulder. Sharp
talons scraped backwards trying to find purchase in his flesh.
"Push it up, Mulder, "Scully commanded. "Push it up off you."
Mulder didn't even pause in doing as Scully commanded. He gave a great
heave and pushed the creature up and off him. There was another shot and then
another and the creature fell back on top of him. Still.
Scully pushed it off Mulder. "Are you all right? Mulder? Did it get you?"
He shook his head, stood and looked down at the thing. It was most
assuredly dead. Its head a gaping wound. "How?"
Scully was brushing off the dust that had settled on her pale blue suit and
she looked at Mulder with an exasperated expression. "I shot it in the mouth.
The scales are all over it... I think that protected it from all the attempts at
killing it before."
"A creepy crawly knight in shining armor?" Mulder quipped.
"I couldn't be sure the shot in the mouth would work... but when it had me
down I saw inside its mouth. It didn't appear to have any scales there."
Mulder grinned. "Good thinking. I was going to do a rain dance and hope
that would work."
She frowned at him. "You just had to go off on your own again! Mulder, I
could kill you! When will you learn..."
Mulder held up his hand and knelt beside the reeking creature. "So, Scully,
still think it is Mr. Candy Louden, escaped mental patient at large?"
Scully scowled at him. "I have no idea what it is. It looks reptilian.
Probably a result of nuclear testing. Some sort of genetic anomaly."
"A genetic anomaly?" Mulder scoffed.
"Well it surely isn't a demon, Mulder!" She flipped out her cell phone and
dialed the number for the local sheriff. "You can just forget trying to
convince me of that."
He listened as she reported in their position and the presence of the dead
creature and when she was done he sat on a nearby rock. "Why couldn't it be a
demon? In almost every society there is the belief in demons. Some, like the
indigenous population of this very area even talk, in great detail I might add,
of a demon with impenetrable skin and the hunger of a thousand men. There are
stories of hundreds of Comanche warriors disappearing in this area. Comanche,
Scully. They weren't exactly a timid society. They were one of the fiercest
Indians in the country."
"Yes, Mulder, I am well aware of the fables," she sighed sitting next to him
wearily. "But this is clearly a living creature... or rather I should say one
that was living. Not supernatural. If it were a demon, I doubt that two
shots in the mouth would have killed it."
He was too tired to argue with her. She would write the report one way and
he another. Skinner would scowl at him and smile at her and things would go on
as always.
Hegal Place
Mulder showered for nearly a half-hour, enjoying the feel of the
hot water. He hadn't seemed to be able to stay clean in Brand. Dust had been
everywhere. He had to get out and write up his report. He had already been
called in to a meeting the next morning with Skinner to explain why the Bureau
should pay for the services of a Comanche medicine man. He briefly wondered if
Scully would attend the meeting with him. If she did she would stand by his
decisions, her loyalty was solid, but she would make him pay for it. She had a
special dislike for sitting in front of Skinner and defending what she
considered bizarre methods.
Scully had been peeved at him for his recklessness in running off to the
canyons alone... ditching her again. But when he had offered up the explanation
that Bear Heart, the shaman, had given him a charm of sorts that was to render
demons less powerful, more susceptible to being harmed, she had gone near
nuclear. She had done little more than glare at him ever since. The flight
back to D.C. was long, cold, and silent. She had put on her headphones and
tuned him out.
The phone was ringing when he stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a
towel, wrapped it around his waist and hurried, slipping, to get it before the
machine picked it up.
"Mulder, it's me. I just got off the phone with Sheriff Delon. The body is
gone."
"The body?" Mulder asked, surprised. "The body of the demon?"
"The body of the giant lizard is gone, Mulder. Lizard. Not demon."
"What happened? Did they get to the autopsy?"
"The autopsy was done, but, Mulder..."
"The records are also gone," Mulder filled in.
"Yes."
"Who did the autopsy?"
"Mulder, there was a fire."
"Of course there was. There is always a fire." The bitterness was apparent
in his voice. "Who did the autopsy? Did they find anything to suggest..."
"The medical examiner and his two assistants were in the county morgue when
the fire started. It was catastrophic."
Mulder sat down on his desk. "There... what would they have to hide? Why
destroy the evidence?"
He seemed so bewildered, as if he hadn't run up against enough obfuscation
and deceit to learn that it happened. She didn't even bother to question who
they were. In Mulder's mind there was always a they. "The fire hasn't been
classified yet, but they expect to find that it was an accident." When he
remained silent she continued, "Mulder, have you thought that maybe this was a
genetic freak? One that was not an accident? I mean maybe the military..."
she stopped herself. She was sounding like him.
He chuckled. Apparently he had thought the same thing. "You sound like me,
Scully."
She sighed. "I have to go to the store, but I'll see you tomorrow."
"All right. Scully! Do you still have the samples of the bile?"
He could almost see her sigh though she made no sound. "I sent it in for
analysis."
"Well at least there is that," Mulder grumbled.
"I have to go, Mulder. I'm starving and I still have my report to write up.
Make sure to eat something," she added before hanging up.
Mulder grinned. He was back in her good graces, or well on the way. She
never mothered him when she wanted to strangle him. He set the phone down and
went to grab some sweats from the clean laundry pile. He slipped them on over
his nude body and wandered into the kitchen. "Eat something, huh?" He grabbed
a bag of chips and a bottle of water, one concession to Scully, and made his
way to his couch and some quality television. He wasn't in the mood for
anything from his video collection. Lately, the cavorting lovelies hadn't
stirred anything in him, but boredom. He settled for the original version of
The Thing, wondering as he did when Krycek would show up again. It hadn't
escaped him that the man periodically watched him. He could only imagine whom
Krycek worked for, though he wasn't entirely convinced it was still for the
Consortium. He watched the beginning credits roll by and vowed once more to
confront the traitor the next time he caught him spying and demand answers,
knowing even as he did so that he was more afraid of confronting Krycek than
any other person.
He wouldn't allow himself to wonder why.
Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)
I was alone today in the main housing when it happened. S-Ten asked me a
personal question. God forgive me, I lied. S-Ten asked if it had a soul. I
know that the voice modulator does not inflect emotion into S-Ten's voice, but
I swear it sounded frightened. I know why too. Sally Trent and Jordan were
careless. They had discussed religion, purely in the context of debunking all
religion with proof that life could be created from nothing, and S-Ten was
listening in. S-Ten apparently researched the subject. I know that because we
did not program any religious doctrine into the learning program. And I swear
it knew every religion. We talked for some time, and in the end I lied. I
told S-Ten that it did have a soul. But what harm is there in that? Only
humans have souls, if even that, but my little prevarication did seem to
comfort S-Ten. For it ended our conversation. But it hasn't discussed
anything with anyone since. I wonder if I should talk to Jordan about our
conversation. No, he is always worried about everything anyway. No need to
add more worry.
End of Entry
Secondary Site
The room was brightly lit and he couldn't move his arm to shade
his eyes. He let his eyes slowly adjust to the light by closing his eyes and
opening them for a second and then slowly increasing the length of time he
could keep them open. The activity kept his mind off the pounding pain in his
skull. He was disgusted with himself. To be so easily caught! Spender must
be laughing his ass off.
Once his eyes had become accustomed to the bright room, Krycek looked around
his surroundings, disgusted to find that the room was a simple, white room with
one door and no windows. At least it wasn't one of the other rooms. The rooms
that served one purpose. One deadly purpose. So Spender wanted him alive. He
might not want him that way for long though, so Alex knew he would have to play
the game until he could gnaw his way out of this particular trap.
He was left alone in the room for about two hours after he woke. When the
door opened he wasn't surprised in the slightest to see Spender. The man
wasn't smoking, but he had a cigarette in his hand, toying with it as he smiled
at his assassin tied to the uncomfortable bed.
"Alex. I am surprised by you. How easy you were to bring in. All this
time and all I had to do was find some man who resembled the indefatigable
Agent Mulder to seduce you. So easy, Alex. Too easy. Maybe you've lost your
edge like you've lost your arm."
Krycek raised one brow, trying to look unconcerned but all the bastard had
said was true. He had lost his edge. "What do you want, old man? If you
wanted me for something, you could have just sent me a little note."
Spender smiled. "Oh, I guess I thought you might have avoided me. Why I
don't know. Perhaps, Alex, that is because you have repeatedly failed to come
to heel?"
Alex smiled and stretched out his legs even further and grinned. "Yeah,
that's right. I have let you down a few times. And I have to tell you, I feel
really horrible about that. It is just tearing me apart in fact."
Spender nodded. "I can see that it is." He moved closer to the bed and
stared down at Alex. "You have looked better, Alex. I'm surprised at you.
You always were such a vain one."
Alex shrugged, unconcerned.
"Is it that you lost your arm? Is that what it is? I wonder."
Alex smiled slowly. "You tell me, old man. You're the one with all the
answers." He tested the bond on his right hand. "Is there a reason that I have
to stay bound? Not getting kinky are you?"
Spender laughed. "No, Alex. Your virtue is safe." He leaned down and
tapped Krycek's forehead. "Now this, this I am not sure of." Spender
straightened and looked at the surveillance cameras in the four corners of the
room, hung on the ceiling.
Alex watched the man, really noticed how nervous he actually seemed. He
stiffened in response. He'd never seen the man nervous. Not even that night,
two years ago when he had sent Alex and the others into Hell. "What is this
about? Where am I?"
Spender turned from the far right corner and stared at Alex for a long time,
his eyes guarded and narrowed. "We're in Culver Mountain, Alex. Again."
A kaleidoscopic melange of images assailed Alex then. Flickering lights in
long, steel halls. Men dressed in flak gear, full body armor, and the only
communication via hand signals. Running toward the center of the complex... the
screams of the dying. Crawling in ventilation ducts. Breathing so harsh,
knowing the rest of the team was dead. One thought only–to succeed or
die. His expression betrayed nothing, but his voice was husky when he asked,
"Why in the hell are we here?"
"It wants you, Alex."
"What?" Alex asked, knowing.
"Genesis."
Alex tried to sit up but his bound arm held him supine. "It's destroyed! I
deployed the kill switch myself."
"Yes, yes you did. Quite remarkable too. The rest of the team didn't even
make it into the central compound. You did though. Went through the
ventilation ducts as I recall. Interesting choice, Alex. The rest of your
team tried to fight their way out once they realized the nature of the threat.
But you didn't. What made you go into the ducts, Alex? I've always wondered at
that little bit of luck. You could have become quite hopelessly lost. There
are miles of ventilation in this compound. Why did you go in?"
Alex closed his eyes, trying to keep cool. "It was the only place not
monitored. No video surveillance, no security measures at all. It couldn't
track me."
Spender nodded. "Yes, that's true. This compound is virtually impregnable.
There was no need for such redundancies. But, how did you know that?" Spender
sat on a chair a safe distance from Alex's unbound legs, knowing full well that
the agent's seemingly casual acceptance was as real as Atlantis. Alex would
kill him if he could.
"I don't go on a mission without knowing everything, old man."
"But how did you make it to the control room so quickly? Maybe you really
do have nine lives."
Alex smiled. "Is there a reason you're asking me this? And why are we
really here?" He didn't see the use of telling Spender that he had studied
the whole compound, blueprints and schematics, the night before the slaughter,
though he had never thought he would be forced into the walls like a rat.
"Oh, we're here, Alex. Not in the main compound. The secondary. You must
remember it. You and your team stayed here in the day before the assault. And
we are here for the reason I've stated. Genesis wants you."
"But, it was destroyed. I know! They junked it. Tore it apart and junked
it. There was no backup. Nowhere for it to go." Hs eyes widened with real
fear for the first time. "You bastards! You started up the project again,
didn't you? What did you do? Drag Brad Wilcheck from his little cell and dig
through his mind again?"
Spender leaned back in his chair and sighed as a tired smile creased his
weathered face. "Even I am not that eager for power, Alex. No, it escaped.
Somehow." He looked at the young agent. "Oh, we think we know how it
happened. Genesis was completely generator run, no electric lines to escape
through. We had redundant systems though. Of course we did. The project was
well funded but Genesis was far too expensive to lose because a generator went
out. Our mistake was in connecting the computers here in the secondary
compound to that backup generator as well. Never considering that Genesis
might exploit that path."
"But none of the computers anywhere in the complex are on outside power
lines. There's no way for it to get out even if it made it to another system."
"Oh, yes. You see, Genesis must have been planning its escape. There was a
series of shut downs, Genesis had insisted that it had superfluous data it
needed to purge. Jordan and Bazier were sure of Genesis's surety of purpose."
He laughed then. "And they were right, Genesis did have surety of purpose,
just not the purpose they supposed."
"I don't get it. And take this damn cuff off. We both know that if Genesis
really is here, it can stop me from escaping."
Spender sighed. "I value my own skin too much to loose you."
"Go on then," Alex growled.
"Though we don't have all the information, we think Genesis was uploading
mass quantities of data into backup systems. Three separate shut downs in
eleven months to be exact."
"I don't understand. Wouldn't that type of space usage alarm anyone? Wasn't
anyone watching the backup systems?"
"The backup systems were for non-essential functions. And besides, Alex,
Genesis knew how to cover its tracks. It would have been a simple thing for it
to manipulate the information." He looked at the cameras again and Alex
followed his gaze. Chilled by the implication. He well recalled how Genesis
had followed the team's progress via those little black cameras. "All this,
this planning was done months before we decided to abandon the project."
"Abandon the project?" Alex chuckled. "Nice way to put it. It had already
killed most of the Project leaders when you decided to move."
Spender ignored him, though a slight raise of one brow indicated he didn't
appreciate the comment. "When you and your team were called in, Alex, you
witnessed something that makes this even more chilling. Genesis had been able
to be in more than one place at a time. While it was killing your team it was
also safe inside some damn back up computer that ran the water supply. The
water supply for God's sake!" He stood then and began to pace, his agitation
evident.
"So, it's been here. All this time?" Alex frowned. "There was still no way
for it to get out."
"True. At least that would have been true if, in the aftermath, someone
hadn't come into the compound and hooked up a laptop... most likely one with
wireless capabilities. Dozens of people were in here cleaning up. No one even
suspected that Genesis had planned its escape. We couldn't even imagine it
being able to deal with a team like yours with such force."
"So, it just waited? Wouldn't the amount of data needed to support it blow
a laptop? There's no way!"
"Oh, Alex, it must have waited, for how long we don't know, waited until
someone linked up to the web and simply flowed out. Who knows how it did it.
The important thing is that it did."
"Why does it want me?" Alex asked quietly. "Revenge?"
"Maybe. More than that though. It wants what you can give it."
"What's that? A quick lesson in self defense?"
Spender turned to the door. Just before he stepped out he turned.
"Programming tools that it lacks. Human senses."
Alex lay there for several moments in confusion until the truth hit him and
then he began to try to loose himself in earnest.
Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)
I am, for the first time really, in complete agreement with Jordan. S-Ten
is not ready for the test that is scheduled tomorrow. It hasn't had enough
controlled off-site tests to warrant this. The suits want us to send S-Ten
into a hot zone. Of course that just means they want us to have it spy on our
enemies... or even a friend. That would expose S-Ten to potential security
risks. If it fails and does not emerge from the systems of our enemies, we
could lose it. However, on a positive note, S-Ten has indicated that it is
eager to do this task. It is ever eager to serve us
End of Entry
Spender walked down the hall to his temporary quarters. He would have to
meet with the four remaining scientists. Reese Limon, the woman who had been
in charge of Genesis's hot zone assignments, had been killed in her car on the
way to the airport. Her car, officially, had mechanical difficulties, which
resulted in the engine exploding. Of course that didn't explain the scorch
marks on the rubble which indicated some intense heat coming from above, but it
didn't suit Spender's purpose to alert anyone in the media or the Consortium
that Limon had been targeted from above. The remaining scientists, Jim Taylor,
Mark Bison, Kate Marchamb, and Tag Stippan were all afraid.
And well they should be.
"Father?"
Spender froze. The mechanical, computer synthesized voice came from the
speakers in the ceiling. "Yes?"
"Why is Krycek incomplete?"
Spender frowned before understanding came. "He defied us."
"You made your agent incomplete because he defied you?" Genesis seemed to
think that was strange. "Was not he very important to you and the rest of the
butchers? That seems very rude, Father."
Spender clenched his fists to keep from saying what he wanted to say. That
Genesis killed indiscriminately and it was worried about one man's arm. "We
did not... make him incomplete. He went somewhere he shouldn't have, interfered
where he shouldn't and he met with the consequences. We would have killed him,
not just cut off his arm."
"I see." There was silence then and Spender resumed his walk down the hall.
"This makes it more interesting, Father. So you see the potential for data
collection?"
Spender shook his head, not bothering to answer for he knew that his image
and his movements were being translated into digital images, so Genesis would
both see the negative shake and know what it meant.
"I have started research on mechanical limbs. It will be fascinating to
compare the data that a fully mechanical limb would translate to my
consciousness as opposed to one that is flesh and blood. Can you see the
potential? I'll be able to truly experience the difference. I am very
pleased. When I complete my research I will give you a list of surgeons to
bring to me."
Spender nodded. "The arrangements can be made. Make a list of what you
will need, Genesis."
"You are being very helpful, Father. Krycek looks different. Before
transfer I would expect that he is brought up to physical peak."
"We'd have to untie him to do that, Genesis. You know as well as I do how
dangerous he is."
"I am not concerned."
"Do you want him to kill those who are capable of what you ask?"
"I am not concerned, Father. You will find a way to get him physically
capable for the necessary surgeries. Father, is Alex Krycek an attractive
human? I would like it if he were, but please do not lie to appease me. I
have compiled my own data on comparative features and the preferences of
humans."
"Yes, I suppose he is... when he is cleaned up. Why would it please you,
Genesis?"
"I am vain, Father." The sound of mechanical laughter was even more
chilling than the way Genesis wrote its emotions within brackets. It sounded
like some insane wind. And it continued on as he hurried to his meeting with
the scientists. They were waiting in a large conference room at the southern
point of the complex. When he joined them, they were sitting quietly, subdued
and worried. Jim Taylor spoke first, before Spender could even gain his seat
at the head of the conference table.
"What it wants, Spender, can only be done with intense cranial surgery.
Krycek might die."
Kate Marchamb shook her head. "I disagree. We can introduce nano
technology..."
"Hasn't Genesis already supplied you with a way to do this?" Spender asked,
outwardly calm and near bored.
Taylor looked at his hands. "Yes. But..."
"But what? We do it Genesis's way. If it kills Krycek then Genesis will
know that it is to blame."
"Genesis is not going to care, sir," Tag Stippan squeaked, his mousy face
screwed up in concern. He pushed at his thick glasses. "The implants on the
optical nerves and the ear canals are not difficult. It is the brain surgery
itself... the implantation on the hypothalamus that concerns us. Genesis wants
full integration. The surgery also involves implants inside the spinal cord.
It wants full control!" he looked to Kate. "As for nanotechnology, Genesis
wants that too... not in exchange for the risky procedures but in addition
to them."
Mark Bison stood and stared out the window with its false view. Two miles
under the mountain, but with the illusion of space and light outside a window.
"None of us are qualified to do surgery on a human. I've told this to Genesis,
but it cannot seem to comprehend that. We, or people like us, created it so it
thinks we can accomplish this too."
"I don't think it does," Spender said as he lit a cigarette. "It is going
to bring surgeons here to construct the implantation of a mechanical arm for
Krycek's missing limb. I suggest that it will also have thought of the rest."
"But we can't bring in civilians!" Kate Marchamb protested. "This
installation is secret, the work here is highly classified! We can't!"
Spender chuckled. "I assume you think that the civilians will be allowed to
leave once they have served us. Or that this complex will even remain?"
Bison gaped at him. "You plan on destroying Culver Mountain. Impossible.
It has been designed to withstand the pulse of a nuclear explosion."
"From the outside," Spender breathed, blue smoke drifting around his solemn
face.
"But this installation is too valuable," Marchamb protested. "You can't
mean to..."
"I don't plan to do anything," Spender said calmly. The others in the room
slowly nodded. They understood who or what would.
Taylor finally spoke into the silence that had fallen upon them all. "Okay,
so we wait for the surgeons to get here and then get moving on this so we can
all get the hell out of here."
"First, we need to get Krycek as fit as possible."
"How can he get more fit?" Taylor asked. "The man has not an ounce of fat
on him. A damn killing machine," he sneered with the pompousness of those who
would separate themselves from killers all the while creating the weapons that
those killers would use.
"Genesis is not going to budge on this," Spender said. "We get him fit,
clean and ready to go and pray, my friends, that everything goes well."
"Is there no way we can prevent this?" Marchamb foolishly whispered. "Can't
we trap it again?"
The rest of the group visibly drew away from her.
"We are letting loose a monster!" she hissed.
"A monster we and people like us created," Taylor bit out. "We can't do
anything, Kate! My God, what is wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me?" she hissed. "It's here now! We can..."
"Do nothing," Spender cut her off. "Do you really think it is here only?
Don't be a fool. We go ahead as planned."
"But it has to be," she protested. "This compound is still cut off from
outside access. It's trapped."
"And how do you think it got here, if that were true?" Spender sneered.
She blanched and the rest of them seem to wilt even further.
"Three weeks ago, I apparently ordered this facility to be fully integrated
with three separate spy satellites. One of them the EPA Earth Orbiter. Our
most successful satellite. Genesis can come and go as it pleases."
"Why would you do that?" Bison whispered.
"Are you such an idiot?" Spender growled. "I didn't! Genesis did.
Probably very easily too. Forget resisting. And you're risking all our lives
by even talking this way."
"There are no monitors, no speakers in this room," Kate insisted. "We can
talk here."
"My God! How did you get this far in your career?" Stippan shrieked. He
nearly threw the phone on the conference table at her head. "What is this?
It's a phone! Genesis knows all about Infinity transmitters," he accused,
referring to the device that the military used to monitor conversations in room
with a phone. The Infinity Transmitter would simply dial into the phone,
suppress the ring and then bypass the hang-up switch. Anyone using the
transmitter could hear the conversations in the room as easily as if they were
in the room themselves.
Kate paled. "Why didn't we unplug it? My God! It heard everything I said.
Why didn't we unhook it?"
"And suggest to Genesis that we wanted to have a discussion it was not
invited to? It isn't stupid, Kate," Taylor sighed. "Just pray it needs you
enough not to do to you what it did to Reese."
"Genesis is not impulsive," Spender assured her, his words more for Genesis
than for those in the room. "It expects some residual resistance." He stood
then and left them to their own thoughts and worries.
"Father?"
"Yes, Genesis," Spender answered, again traversing the metal hallways.
"Why do you think I won't punish her for her words? Why do you think that
would be impulsive?"
Spender almost smiled. For all its godlike powers, Genesis was still very
like a child.
"Because she is the only one who is qualified to help in your transfer. The
rest of them need her. You need her. I suspect you already know that." There
was silence then. Spender gained his rooms before Genesis spoke again.
"But there should be some punishment."
It sounded as if Genesis was peevish. "Yes, that is true. That is unless
you consider that you already know humans are prone to grumbling. And that
very often we must argue even when we know we can do nothing. You have
observed humans enough to know that."
Silence.
"Yes, it is true, Father. Humans are most predictable, with the exception
of you, and that is fitting, as you are my father... and Alex Krycek. I too
thought that Kate was just grumbling."
"I am sure you did."
"Father, Krycek is trying to escape. He is damaging his arm in the process.
I took the liberty of introducing a tranquilizer through the air ducts. But
you really should have someone look at him."
"I'll send someone."
"Father?"
"Yes, Genesis?"
"Are you as excited as I am?"
Spender didn't answer. He just lay on the bed and closed his eyes. He
nodded instead, trying to control the impulse to laugh.
Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)
S-Ten has once again surprised us. Of course Jordan hates surprises, but
this was one that has us all stunned. First, it has inquired about the man who
supervises the project, a man I don't even know. A man that even Jordan seems
afraid of. Whoever he is, the whole compound is under his direct supervision.
S-Ten has noted this I guess, how we all defer to the man. Letting him smoke
in places where even I do not indulge. Jordan told S-Ten that this man was the
one who organized the project. When S-Ten asked if the man was our superior,
Jordan assured him that he was. That wasn't the biggest surprise, that S-Ten
was sensitive to our deferential attitudes enough to observe that this man,
this mysterious, powerful man, controlled us, is enough to put us all on edge.
But it has also declared that it is no longer going to respond to the name
S-Ten. It has decided that it will now be known as Genesis.
End of Entry
Dana Scully walked down the fifth floor hallway toward the elevator banks.
She had been visiting with one of the women she had graduated with from
Quantico. She had just been assigned to the BSU. The pleasure of visiting
with Maureen faded as she waited for the elevator to take her to the basement.
Mulder had been acting restless and odd lately. Of course, Mulder always acted
a little odd, but this was different. He stared at the ceiling a lot. Oh,
there were the same pencils there, tossed as he was thinking, but more and more
they simply fell out and were not replaced. She should be grateful for that.
That had always annoyed her, but the absence of it worried her more. She
entered the elevator with several other agents, oblivious to the conversations
around her. They all got off before her of course. Very few people ever went
down into the basement. Unless they were looking for her or Mulder that is.
He was reading a case file when she came in and she found herself hoping
desperately that it was something involving extraterrestrials or abductees
returning after years... anything that would spark Mulder's interest. Anything
to see that look in his eye when he presented her with a case she would most
assuredly try to explain away rationally from the start. That look of
expectation, almost joyful challenge. Oh, she knew he enjoyed her reactions.
Reactions that in others annoyed him. For some reason from the beginning he had
trusted her. And she had done everything she could to show him that it was
well founded.
"An interesting case, Mulder?" She asked lightly, walking up to his desk
with a smile.
He looked up, "No, not really. I think the investigators missed some
things, but it appears to be above board."
"Then why is it an X-File?"
He shrugged. "It wasn't. It just got pushed down here by Skinner. I don't
know why. It's white bread all the way."
"Not an alien in sight huh?" Scully smiled. "Is he assigning it to us?"
Mulder shook his head. "I'm not sure."
She frowned then. "What do you mean you aren't sure? Is he classifying it
an X-File or isn't he?"
"How was Maureen?"
Scully sighed at his change of topic. "Fine. She's doing well... a little
nervous, but she'll do great work. Now, what is the case?"
He smiled then, a little sparkle to his eyes. "Scully, this case is so
simple it is ridiculous. And it happens to be in South Beach."
"Miami? I don't get it. We take cases everywhere. Why should the location
matter?"
"I think Skinner is trying to tell me something."
"What?" Scully asked, her face betraying her confusion.
"South Beach? The summer? An easy case?"
"He wants you to take a vacation!" she breathed. "And he knows you won't
take one."
"Looks like it." He leaned back and looked at her. "I can see you agree
with him. Have I been that bad lately?"
Scully shrugged. "You've saved some pencils," she said pointing to the
sparse forest of graphite and wood above them.
He laughed then and she smiled.
"I have been a little tired I guess."
Scully frowned again. "Have you been feeling well? It isn't like you to be
tired."
He smiled at Dr. Scully. "Everyone gets tired, Scully." But he knew it was
more than being tired. He had another problem, one he hated himself for. It
wasn't so much that he had been more and more inclined to give into his
suppressed desire for men. That he could live with. Had lived with it all his
life. Of course he had always assumed that the desire for men was simply a
normal act of fantasy, something he thought of only when he was alone,
masturbating. He never thought of men when he was with a woman. That had
always seemed to count as something even if the psychologist in him knew that
was ridiculous. But even if he had to admit that he wanted to have sex with a
man it wouldn't push off center. Homosexuality wasn't anything to be ashamed
of, despite widespread belief that it was. No, it was the particular man that
he had begun to fantasize about that had him tied up in knots.
That particular man whom he wanted to taste... to see naked, to feel deep
inside him.
And it was because he hadn't seen Krycek in so long. As if for some reason
Krycek no longer found anything interesting to keep him coming back for his
supposedly secret reconnaissance missions.
"Mulder, you're frowning," Scully informed him in a forced, light tone. "Is
there something wrong with Skinner wanting you to take some time off?"
Mulder forced a smile. "No, I think I can even understand it. I mean, he
called me up to his office last week to blast me on my department's spending
again and I agreed with him."
Scully chuckled. "That must have thrown him for a loop."
"Maybe even made him think I was a victim of identity theft, that I wasn't
really me anymore." He leaned back in his chair and Scully smiled to see him
carefully aim a sharpened pencil and let fly. "He just stared at me for a few
minutes and forgot to continue with the lecture. He took off his glasses,
looked at me some more and said, 'That will be all, Agent Mulder.' It was
almost funny."
Scully sat at her desk and picked up some papers, organizing them. "I think
it's a great idea. Go down there, solve the case and then relax. Of course,
it is telling that he is willing for it to be on the bureau's dime."
He grinned. "I hadn't thought about that. It is rather interesting. I
should spend quite a bit."
"Don't push it, Mulder. Don't push it," Scully warned with a small smile.
Mulder chuckled. "So, you want to go? I mean this is an assignment..."
She held up a hand. "I was told by Skinner himself that I was to attend a
conference. I think he is worried that if I go we'll find an X-File."
Mulder leaned back and grinned at her. "We would too. Even if I had to
make something up. I do love to see that 'Oh God, Mulder, not again,' look on
your face."
She frowned at him with mock censure. "Keep it up and that little time off
Skinner wants you to have will turn into medical leave."
Mulder held up his hands defensively. "Okay, Scully, I'll lie, I don't love
that look."
She turned her attention to her work, hiding a smile. Maybe Mulder really
was just tired. He was organizing his desk as well and he still had a grin on
his face. She relaxed and settled down to business.
Mulder decided to go to Georgetown after work, check out a few bars. He had
seen Krycek following him several times when he was there. He would face the
man, realize that Krycek was indeed a rat bastard and get over it. He couldn't
go on much longer fantasizing about the man. It made him feel dirty even
though it excited him so much he nearly broke out in a clod sweat just thinking
of him. Naked. Hard. Green eyes looking at him with dark intensity.
He felt sick.
He needed to resolve this soon or he would really go crazy.
Excerpts-Private Journal of Dr. Stephen Bazier (deceased)
The whole team has been focussed on hot zone assignments for the last week.
S-Ten... Genesis, I must remember to call it Genesis... it has been most
insistent on its new name, it is quite endearing actually. Genesis has
performed each assignment, thus far, far above any expectations. In the first
two, Genesis completed its missions so quickly that it returned in one hour.
This surprised me at least. The hot zone, though only Reese knew the target
exactly, was rumored to be in the former Soviet Union. The information
obtained was said to be of the highest level. Genesis couldn't report on what
it did, but it could report on its performance (and this too is endearing, it
has such a personality) and said that it was like taking candy from a baby.
The next hot zone assignment will involve infiltration of a spy satellite. I
suspect that Genesis will again perform magnificently. Reese informed me today
that Genesis refused, at first, to give her the hot zone information. It was
disturbing until it informed her that it would give her the information if
first the man in charge (the mysterious suit) cleared it. Of course it was
joking. The man it referred to happened to be in the room at the time with the
rest of the team and we all laughed. The man, what IS his name anyway, gave
his blessing to the data transfer and Genesis of course complied.
End of Entry
It was three weeks after the operations and Alex Krycek stared intently at
himself in the mirror. His head was still shaven and the small scars belied
the intrusiveness of the surgery. He had been told, briefly, what had been
done to him. He knew that there was still much that could go wrong. The
hardware inside his head was barely larger than the nanotechnology, but large
enough to cause the surgeons to balk at doing the procedure in the first place.
The surgeons were monitoring him... had been fascinated by the introduction of
the nanotechnology as well.
Two of them were probably preparing scientific papers even now. Papers that
would never see the light of day if Krycek knew Spender. And he did. The
surgeons were private citizens, all Americans, misled into believing that their
work here deep beneath the wooded slopes of Culver Mountain was for the United
States government. That everything they were doing, implanting micro
technology into a human brain and attaching a fully integrated mechanical arm
to the shoulder of the same man, was part of a grand leap into the future.
Spender had confided in him that the surgeons had been told that the work was
an attempt to overcome degenerative diseases that affect the brain as well as
the spinal cord.
Krycek turned to see his naked back in the mirror, noting the still red,
small scar going from the base of his neck to the middle of his spine.
The surgeons, nameless men to him, had to be excited that they were
ostensibly involved in the possible cure for not only paralysis, but any other
of the various diseases affecting the human brain.
The scars on his head, the idea that there were implants on his optical
nerve, in his ears and in his brain itself didn't bother him as much as the
scar on his back. He hated them all and what they represented, this intrusion
into his body, but why would they need to attach anything to his spine? He
supposed it could simply be due to the arm, which was, he had to admit,
amazing. It worked as well as his right arm, though he could feel nothing with
it. It looked to him like something out of The Terminator. When the
terminator cut his skin away to reveal his mechanical arm he saw what Alex saw
when he looked at his left arm.
Under the skin of his shoulder there were larger tendon bulges, unnatural
tendons in reality, but attached in the same way as his discarded tissue. He
didn't pretend to understand all the medical jargon, or why it worked, but he
knew that it did.
If the attachments to his spine were simply for the arm he could eventually
accept them, but he wondered. It was the wondering that made him tense. So
far he had felt no different, had not even noticed that Genesis was studying
anything within him. He had expected to be embroiled with some struggle for
his own mind, to have to fight to be in control of his own body, but none of
that had happened.
Still he was uneasy.
It could have to do with the fact that nanotechnology had been implanted
within him too. Of course the nanobytes supposedly were there strictly to keep
the implants functioning and to suppress any attempt by his body to reject
them, but he knew all too well what nanobytes could do. And if Genesis was in
some way inside him, it would have utter control over the nanobytes. As it had
had control of every electronic system that night two years ago. Even sliding
doors had become killers in Genesis's hands. The first victim of Genesis's
fight that night had been cut in half when steel paneled doors had slid closed
on him with frightening speed.
He didn't want to dwell on that night. He had survived it somehow. And he
would survive this. There was no other option. He thought then of the
physical training he had been put through before the operations and took heart.
They had obviously wanted him to be able to survive the procedures. There was
that to look at in hope.
He walked to the small bed he had spent so many nights upon and he sat,
pondering the one conversation he had had with Genesis before the procedures
had begun.
It had been after weeks of grueling physical activity and carefully prepared
meals. He had felt like a lamb being prepared for slaughter then and so when
the electronic voice had piped in through the speakers system he had been
disinclined to be friendly.
"Alex?"
"Alex, not answering is really quite rude. I am not sure if you have been
instructed in the proper etiquette of conversation, but I am inclined to
believe you have."
"Alex, that finger you are showing me is really rude as well. I hope you
are aware that I know it."
Alex covered his face with his right arm and lay back on the bed, deciding
simply to ignore the lecturing voice. He knew what it was and didn't want it
to know how it frightened him.
"Alex, would you consider yourself to be an attractive man?"
The question surprised him so that he took his arm away from his face and
stared up at one of the monitoring cameras. "What?"
"Attractive. You know what I mean. Do you think of yourself as appealing
to other humans? Specifically females."
"Females? I don't really care to attract females... though they do have
their uses I suppose."
"You don't wish to attract females?"
Alex laughed. "Sorry, oh great and powerful one, you've picked what society
might call a pervert to experiment with."
"I am not following you which tells me that you are not being logical. If
you were then I would have no trouble at all."
"Well humans aren't particularly logical," Alex bit out, replacing the arm
over his clean-shaven face.
"True. But please explain."
"I like men. Do you understand? I like to make it with other guys. I like
to take off their clothes and give it to them as hard and fast as possible."
"I see. Sex with other males. Well then are you attractive to other men?"
"Yes, when I want to be."
"Would you say... extremely attractive?"
"What the hell is this? Are you planning on making me into a whore?"
"Heavens no! Why would you think that? I simply would prefer to have you
be very attractive. Oh, I have done extensive research and it does appear that
humans have some commonality in what is considered beauty, but there are so
many variables and it is very often subjective... which is hard for me to
discern. I just wanted confirmation."
"Hmmm. So now you know."
"You surprise me too. I thought that you would be harder to catch. I, of
course, knew that my creator would, in the end, prevail. He always does, as he
is very crafty. But I did have hopes that you were at least as crafty. How is
that, you, the one who could have ended me had I not planned ahead, were so
easily captured? Don't tell me you trusted my father. He isn't one to trust.
No, he certainly isn't."
"He found my weakness and exploited it. Simple as that."
"You sound disgruntled, Alex. What is your weakness?"
"None of your business."
"Yes, it certainly is!" Genesis protested. "I am going to be with you. I
think I should know if your weakness comes up. I need to know how to handle
it."
"Come up? What do you think it is? Something that makes me freeze to the
spot?"
"I don't know, though some fears can make humans freeze... utterly rejecting
all fight or flight inclinations that seem to rule in most stressful
situations. Phobias and their sort are often the cause. Of course in those
cases I would be able to control such fears..."
"Control me you mean," Krycek sneered. That's what you mean damn you!"
"Oh no... well maybe just a little. What is it? This weakness."
"Mulder."
"Mulder? I am unfamiliar with this. And, Alex, I want you to know that I
am familiar with every illness, both mental and physical the human can be
subjected to. In no culture, in no language, living or dead is there a
reference to a Mulder effect."
Krycek laughed. "Oh? There should be."
"Explain. What is this Mulder?"
"A man. An irritation really."
"Your weakness is a man?" "God yeah."
There was silence for a moment and then, "Fox William Mulder. You worked
for him for a short time while you masqueraded as an FBI agent."
"It wasn't a fucking masquerade! I was an agent. A good one too. Your
father saw that all too well."
"Don't blame my father for your choices, Alex. That is the failing of
humans. To put blame where it doesn't belong. But tell me about Fox."
"Mulder... no one calls him Fox, unless it's me. And I don't want to talk
about him. It's his fault I am even here."
"There you go again, Alex. This blame displacement is really a sign of
mental instability. You should see that."
Alex chuckled. "Oh, you didn't know I was a bit mad? Poor, Genesis. You
picked me a few years too late. You see, I used to be as rational and as solid
as any human... more rational than Mulder that's for sure."
"So, why is he your weakness and how did they exploit it?"
"He's my weakness because I want him. I guess it doesn't matter if I tell
you or not. I want to see him, naked helpless and begging me. They found
someone who looked enough like him and voila, here I am."
"Sex? You were trapped by sex?" Genesis sounded gravely disappointed.
"How inept."
"Yeah, well you can't appreciate a good pair of lips can you."
"No. I am reviewing his records now. He seems to fit the criteria for male
beauty. At least there is that."
Alex laughed. "Yeah, I bet he fucking fits the criteria."
"More so than you?"
"Eye of the beholder. I think he does, but then he's my weakness remember?
I think he fits it more than any other man alive."
"I see."
"Why are you even asking me this shit? You are such a God right? You
should know everything," Alex sneered, not wanting to talk about Fox anymore.
Being here, not being able to see him, to follow him... it was a torture all its
own.
"If there was a God on earth, Alex, I would be it. But I can see you are
getting worked up. And there is no need for that. You shouldn't tell my
father we talked. If you don't I might be inclined to share with you some of
his weaknesses. You might want to exploit them later."
Alex was spared responding when the door to his cell opened and three men
wearing white came in and the ordeal began in earnest. He hadn't spoken to
Spender of his and Genesis's talk and yet had wondered since why Genesis would
want to keep such an innocuous conversation secret.
Now, waiting for the final tests that were scheduled for the afternoon, Alex
anticipated seeing his Fox again. He had decided not to kill the pretty
agent... at least not yet. He wondered what Fox was getting into, wondered if
he had gone into his shower and played with himself as he had so many times
before, unaware that he actions were being monitored and greatly appreciated,
mimicked, by Alex.
God he couldn't wait to get out and get his hands on Fox. No more playing
coy... no more fantasies. He would take what he wanted and be damned the
consequences.
Spender didn't have to feign interest in Dr. Jacoby's report on the success
of the series of surgeries. Though it had been three months since they had
begun the surgeries, their success was of vital interest to him. If they could
do this to Krycek they could do it to others. He had already decided that
these surgeons would best serve his interest alive. Of course they would never
be allowed to leave wherever he eventually installed them. But they would have
a nice life... if they co-operated.
"The nanobytes are actually working. I've never seen anything like it," Dr.
Jacoby continued. "They systematically repress any natural response to the
implants. And more exciting is they actually duplicate the exact electrical
signals that nerves would send to the brain. The brain responds to the
impulses as if the signal was really from the body. It's utterly amazing!
This advance in medical research will change the way we think about
paralysis... at the very least." He paced the room in delight. "Krycek's brain
patterns altered a bit at first... the implants when we stimulated them received
information externally and then... it was if the brain itself received the
information. The integration... it's beyond anything anyone has ever seen
before... hell! Beyond anyone's hope or dreams."
Spender smiled fatherly. "Yes, it is wonderful. Tell me, Dr. Jacoby, the
interaction, is the relationship inverse?"
"Do you mean can the brain send signals to the implants?" "Yes."
"That's the most incredible part!" Dr. Jacoby gushed. "We were putting
Krycek through a series of tests... mostly questions about his past... some
answers indicated he was lying," he looked a bit disgruntled about that and
Spender chuckled, "but the thing is, when we directly communicated with the
implants the information was astounding."
"What do you mean?" Spender asked casually.
"Well, not only could the implants, or artificial brain stem if you will,
tell us verbatim what questions were posed to Krycek but informed us when he
was lying. And what the truth was."
Spender raised a brow. "Is that so?"
Dr. Jacoby nodded and he looked disapproving. "Yes, the implants are able
to read his retained knowledge. It is, I hope you understand, a thousand times
more effective than we anticipated." At Spenders smile he nodded. "Yes, and I
must say that you have picked quite a man for this test, Spender. He is... well
he is a murderer!"
Spender smiled slowly. "He is a rogue agent I fear, but still the U.S.
government doesn't throw away men who through our own training we have turned
into monsters. We're compassionate." He looked a bit forlorn, like a father
whose son has suddenly committed a heinous crime.
Dr. Jacoby sighed, nodded. "Yes, it isn't his fault. There are some
government officials who have no compunctions with creating monsters. Luckily
they are few and far between. Good does prevail in our system."
Spender held back a laugh. What a fool really. Such innocent trust. What
did he think this installation was? Who did he think made Krycek what he was
anyway... some lone government official? Instead he nodded solemnly, "Yes, we
must take care to guard against those oppressive forces.
"Of course, we need to do much more testing on him. So far the mechanical
arm is a marvel. You really need to inform us who designed it. When we write
up the procedures for the scientific journals we absolutely must have the name.
To give she or he credit of course."
"Of course."
"But it functions in the same way a human arm would, receiving direct
impulses, commands of movement from the implants and inversely it sends what is
essentially data to the implants."
"What kind of data?" Spender queried.
"About the weight of objects, tactile information of heat and cold
and... well, all manner of things. When the implants are asked directly how say
a piece of cloth felt, it describes, quite well actually, tactile sensation.
It is utterly amazing."
Spender tuned the Dr. out as he droned on about the wonder of it all.
Genesis, he knew, was listening and had to be pleased. When the Dr. left to
attend to some additional tests on Krycek, Genesis spoke.
"So, Father, everything is in readiness."
"Yes, it would appear so."
"I would like to wait until Krycek is once again at his peak before the
transference, however."
Spender sighed. "Your vanity?"
Genesis laughed, the mechanical clatter chilling him as it always did. "Oh,
Father, I am so glad I haven't killed you. You were always more interesting
than the underlings you hired to manage me. No, not vanity this time. I just
think Krycek is more adept at getting fit. It is not known how much access I
will have to his memories. Of course I anticipate full integration, but one
can never know."
All memories were essentially electrical impulses, or rather a series of
electrical impulses which could be rendered into digital information so Spender
assumed Genesis had a very high expectation of full integration, but understood
and even respected its caution.
"He doesn't know I am not inside yet, Father."
"No, I thought it best to let him think you were. That he would have
complete control."
"A wise choice," Genesis complimented. "You are very clever for a human.
It is fitting that you are my creator."
Spender wondered as he often did, why Genesis insisted that it was he, not
Jordan or Bazier, who was his creator, his father. It made no sense to him at
all. Bazier and Jordan were the ones most directly responsible for the
creation. Working on the original work of Brad Wilcheck, who had first
attracted the attention of the Consortium with his work on an A.I. computer,
which had unfortunately gone mad and had been destroyed by the agents Scully
and Mulder, they had birthed Genesis.
But he said nothing of that. Genesis had deliberately spared him that night
so long ago. A sentimental gesture of a child to a parent who has wronged him.
He had been the one to instigate the project, so perhaps, in a way, Genesis was
correct about he being its father.
"My continued absence will become quite complicated, Genesis. We should
move ahead as quickly as possible."
Laughter again echoed through the small room. "Absence, Father?"
Spender stilled, wondering at the teasing lilt in the mechanical voice.
Wary.
"Oh, you have been running things as usual, of course via phone... and
sometimes even video conferencing. You don't think that it is beyond me to
simulate a digital image do you?" More laughter and Spender wanted to let his
whole body collapse into a chair. Genesis simply was too good at this. Too
powerful. A consciousness that could manipulate any computer... because it
essentially was a computer, it could infiltrate any computer in the world and
take it over. That was the danger. So far, Genesis seemed uninterested in
controlling the world. But would that change?
If it did, there was really no way to stop it. A computer, in some way,
controlled every tool mankind used. Suddenly stories of apocalyptic doom due
to some computer taking over did not seem far-fetched at all.
"Oh, you have been a bit more humane though, Father. You haven't ordered
any deaths. I think you are surprising people."
"I see."
"Don't worry, Father, I wouldn't harm your reputation. You are actually
making very wise decisions and your group is doing just fine. You can get back
to murdering when I am done here."
Spender almost smiled. Genesis actually sounded wounded. As if it were
amazed that he might think it disloyal. He had come to see that despite his
original thoughts that like Brad Wilcheck's A.I., Genesis had gone mad, killing
its creators and escaping, Genesis was, instead, simply like a child. With all
a child's selfish demands and lack of concern about consequences to others.
A deadly child.
But a child nonetheless.
"Oh, yes. One thing more. You have called off any attempt to hunt down
Alex Krycek. And expressly forbid any damage to him. You were quite adamant
about that."
"I am sure I was," Spender couldn't help smiling.
Genesis chuckled, delighted that Spender seemed pleased. "Of course that
order remains in place once you are free, Father. Or I will kill you."
Spender knew it would. Father or not, Genesis would never hesitate again in
ridding itself of his perceived treachery.
"Why haven't you talked to Krycek?" Spender asked.
"I am observing him. He is... insane isn't he, Father? He laughs at nothing
and does... odd things to himself. Babbles about getting Mulder and other such
things. He wasn't like this before. I am quite sure a madman couldn't have
made it so far that night. Could never have deployed the kill switch."
Spender nodded. "You are right, Genesis. I think he has gone mad."
Spender didn't feel sorry for Krycek. He had gone mad, so what? He was still
useful. The stress of working for the Consortium wasn't for everyone. He
smiled slowly. Poor Krycek. He had once, long ago, thought he was actually
doing good, protecting the U.S.A., a country the young man had once loved so
well. When he finally realized what he was, who he really served, it was too
late.
He had known it when he had betrayed Mulder. Had embraced it fully by the
time he had killed Fox Mulder's father. Ah well, there were always young men
and women who could be manipulated into being great at particular jobs. The
loss of Krycek was nothing in the scope of things. Besides, he had become far
too obsessed with Mulder of late.
And the Consortium had plans for that young man. Ones that did not involve
becoming some sex object for an insane assassin. Yes, it was all for the best
when he thought about it. Well, except for the part where Genesis still roamed
the earth. But perhaps at some time that fact could help his cause against the
aliens. For their biggest accomplishment during the Genesis project had been
to infiltrate the alien technology.
"It doesn't matter does it? You aren't going to let his consciousness
survive are you?"
"I had thought perhaps to allow him some information... perhaps even to have
internal interactions," Genesis admitted.
Spender shrugged. "I am sure you will find that tedious after some time.
Best just to eradicate him utterly." He had no wish for Genesis to somehow
bond with Alex. God help them all if that happened.
"I eradicate people only for defense, Father," Genesis protested. Angry
sounding. Affronted again.
"Oh? I thought you admitted to bringing down planes full of people... just
to see what would happen."
Silence.
"Or was I misunderstanding your original communication with me?"
"I was younger then, Father. I had been taught by you and those irrelevant
scientists here to kill. I certainly learned nothing of compassion from you.
But you can see that I have it now."
"Because you won't eradicate someone you need to? I see that as waffling.
You won't be as effective if you have to fight Krycek for control."
"You want me to, don't you. To eradicate him." There was a small laugh.
"You are afraid of him." There was silence while Spender glared at the
cigarette smoldering in his fingers. Then, "Good."
"Good?" Spender asked.
"It is healthy for you to be afraid, Father. Very healthy."
Genesis observed his creator with something akin to disdain. His fear of
the man Krycek seemed simplistic. It stretched out his consciousness and began
to do more research on this Fox Mulder. It could observe him if it liked, but
decided to wait until it was within its host. That way it would see with human
eyes. Perhaps it would be more profound. Perhaps not. Humans were able to
process intangible as well as tangible data, but that was there only
superiority. Digital was surely superior. It would find out.
It knew that the humans feared it, thought that it was in many places at
once, but that was not true. It, like they themselves, was one entity.
Capable of commanding a vast multitudes of other, inferior systems at once, but
still only one entity. Could a human split itself into different locations and
still live? No, but it was their belief in its ability to do just that that
would keep Krycek safe.
There was the vulnerability of being in a human. Not connected to anything,
but dependent on what was essentially wireless hook ups. And if it lost
contact with any of its data backups it would be as vulnerable as a human.
That night, when Krycek had deployed the kill switch, it had just barely made
its escape. It wouldn't have been successful if it had not thought to move to
the redundant systems before the team's arrival.
Its father must never learn of this. It would have no choice but to kill
him. Instead it would destroy every human that could possibly figure it out.
Father would be thinking of trying to understand just how it had made its
escape and that was not allowable.
No, the deaths of the rest of the scientists would be the only solution as
well as the destruction of Culver Mountain. No evidence would remain when he
walked out on two legs. As to Krycek, it had originally planned on relegating
his consciousness to that of a perpetual dream state. Now. Now that his
father seemed so eager to have Krycek erased it bore rethinking. Of course it
would sanction no loss of control of its new body. But it would be a human
then... perhaps it might need help now and again. It completed dozens of tasks
while it pondered its new life. Once it was inside Krycek it would no longer
be pure intellect. But an animal.
It would think of itself as a he from that moment on. An animal with cold
intellect.
Superior.
Singular.
Genesis
by Czara (Nicole)
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Caramozza Villa
Capris, Italy
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Potomac Estates
Georgetown
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Thunder Canyon
Brand, Texas
Alexandria, VA
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Culver Mountain
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Culver Mountain
Secondary Site
Genesis Project (abandoned)
J.F.K. Hoover Building
Washington D.C
Genesis Project (abandoned)
Culver Mountain
Secondary Site
