Hello, and welcome to XDS (a.k.a., An X-Files, Due South, Star Wars Crossover).
Notes to the prospective reader (or, a few confessions that might give some indication as to whether or not this story is for you):
To my fellow Star Wars fans -- I am a devoted Luke aficionado. Do not be surprised, therefore, if he ends up getting a lot of spotlight or if scenes have a habit of filtering through his point of view.
To my partner X-Philes -- I am not a shipper, at least not in the sense that I want to see our favorite FBI agents become lovers. I maintain that Scully and Mulder are nothing more than friends (although I do hold that said friendship is uniquely close and consists of a definite love between them). Therefore, any innuendo you may find between these two is nothing more than that -- innuendo. Of course, I cannot prevent you from choosing to see more there than is actually intended (that is, to read between the lines). However, if you're looking for serious UST, then you might want to spend your time with someone else's fan fiction. Also, I do not go very far into the mythology issues of XF. I realize, especially when you're dealing with a setting of the galaxy far, far away that there is much potential for mythology issue exploration. However, that was simply not a prime motivation of my writing this story. Besides, others have already done that and, I think, far better than I could have! <Michelle tips her hat to the authors and contributors of X-Jedi 1 & 2>
To those friendly Duesers -- I adore both Ray and Fraser, albeit for different reasons. Therefore, I hope I have achieved the right balance between these two characters; the balance which I always appreciated in the television program. As a side note, I am also fond of Thatcher, and that probably has some influence on how I write Fraser. Now, Thatcher only makes the briefest of appearances in this story, so while not a factor to cause some to want to avoid this work altogether, it may be cause for you to at least want to skip that particular portion (and yes, you'll know when you get there).
One more confession. There are two MAIN reasons why I wrote this story. 1) These three pieces of entertainment (XF, DS, and SW) are my most favorite, and I have a great love for these characters. Therefore it seemed only natural that I would want to get them together in the same place for a while and see how they might interact. 2) While I do enjoy hearing/reading the ideas of others, I have always had my own opinions about Luke and a particular redhead. This story is just one such example of said opinions.
So there you have the motives behind this product. Considering the reasons why I wrote this, the fact that this story has any facsimile of a plot at all is probably nothing more than mere coincidence. To sum it all up, do not read this with too much seriousness, folks! (Remember -- it's a crossover!) Suspend your disbelief at the door, and just have fun!
For those of you who like to fit all of this into some kind of time line and avoid possible SPOILERS, I'll try to provide some answers. Per SW, this definitely takes place post-Black Fleet trilogy. Not sure where this falls in time related to the Corellian trilogy, but since I didn't much like that series I don't think it has any effect on this story anyway. And since I began this before Zahn's Specter of the Past was released, you won't see any references to it here. On the XF front, as I said before, I didn't feel up to the challenge of attempting to incorporate much of the XF myth into this story, so it may not make much difference where it falls in the time line. No dramatic spoiler references that I can recall. (Feel free to flame me later if you find one though.) Finally for DS, this falls post-second but pre-third season. So, although I like Stan, albeit in a different way than I like Ray, he doesn't exist.
Now it's time for the disclaimers, acknowledgments, and all that jazz. Surely you know these characters (not to mention the locations and props) do not belong to me in any way whatsoever. Just in case you didn't know, please let me assure you now -- I'm just borrowing them and I certainly will not be gaining any remuneration for this. To George and LFL, Chris Carter and 1013, Paul Haggis and those responsible persons at Alliance, please allow me to say "Thank you kindly!" for sharing your own ideas in the first place. Your creations have added much enjoyment to my life! And I promise that when I finish borrowing this stuff, I'll clean it up real nice before I return it. Trust me, you'll never notice your toys were gone... <grin>
I would like to acknowledge some people who've helped: To my editors, I could not have done this without you!
Gail -- thanks for your usual enthusiasm (particularly in reference to what I did to Luke), and for providing ideas about lighting and camera angles for that airport scene. <grin> Oh, and again I'm sorry I couldn't sneak Wedge in anywhere -- maybe next time.
Heather -- thanks for challenging me to rework/reconsider some things so that three sets of big leading characters could still exist in one story without any of them getting lost in the shuffle. Hope I pulled it off well enough.
Leah -- your comments were wonderfully thought provoking as always! I only hope I was able to take what you said and somehow put it to good use, with the ultimate goal of making this story a little better. Oh, and I'm glad you liked the wolf. <grin>
Sonia -- my kindred spirit, your part in this process was invaluable. After all, who else (after having listened to my ramblings for years) would not only read my story, but actually print it out and send me your edits in paper form (it was SO helpful to see this work on something other than my computer screen). You filled those oh so important roles, everything from grammar police to the one who laughs at my jokes. THANKS!
And now, if you've made it THIS far... well, you just might enjoy this after all.
Chicago, Illinois 3:07 a.m.
The customary sounds of a Chicago night played through the dark alley. There was the crash of a metal garbage can lid as it hit the ground, disturbed by a roaming feline, and a few blocks away, the drunken song of a pair of men as they exited a local bar. Somewhere in the distance a siren echoed. The moon, though full, cast only a dim stream of light into the street. It spilled over into the alley, casting shadows along the dirty, graffiti-ridden walls. There was nothing out of the ordinary.
Then, there was a hum, a barely audible hum. Something which, had anyone been present to describe it, was more felt than heard. Slowly, the humming increased -- not in volume, but a distinctive growing of intensity. And in one corner of the alley, a pale, blue-colored light was beginning to appear. It was circular, though not perfectly so, and no larger than six or seven centimeters in diameter. The blue light seemed to hang in the air, about half a meter above the ground. Suddenly, the humming ceased and the light exploded. It reached out as far as the edge of the street, rippling along the walls and piled up garbage. Then, just as suddenly, the light closed in upon itself, and was gone.
In its place stood a man. He was of average height and build. His dark hair was close cut and neat. Large, expressive brown eyes blinked once, then took in the new surroundings. The man checked the chrono at his wrist. Thankfully, it was working, the five-hour countdown ticking away steadily. Running his hands over the tailored, gray uniform to smooth wrinkles that did not exist, the man set his determination and stepped out into the night.
* * *
Rella
Mara Jade could hear herself screaming. She could see herself too. That was the odd part; as if she were watching a scene in a holovid. She was sitting there; or was she lying down? It was difficult to tell. Maybe she was dreaming. But dreams never hurt this badly. Even her dreams involving the Emperor had not been like this. Then Mara remembered.
No, it was not a dream. It was much, much worse.
Slowly Mara opened her eyes, an action she regretted instantly. The room, what little of it she could make out in the almost nonexistent light, reeled wildly, everything flashing in and out of focus. She closed her eyes again and groaned. She took several steadying breaths, willing the throbbing in her head to dissipate. It did not, but at least the dizziness eased.
Mara had no idea how many times she had gone through this scenario. It began with opening her eyes, then closing them again to stop the room from spinning, then attempting to figure out what had happened and where she was. Each time the result was only to pass out again before she could put all the pieces together. Maybe this time it would not happen.
With an effort, Mara began to sort through the labyrinth of images in her mind, searching for that point she could name as the beginning of this horrid nightmare. Eventually, it came to her. She had been on Miramar IV working deals with several other major traders. It was nearing the time she had planned to leave when a last minute deal had been arranged. At first she had been wary. She did not like hasty business arrangements. But the deal promised to be lucrative, and her curiosity got the better of her. The customer - she could not remember his name - did prove to be everything her source had said. And the deal had worked very much in her favor. The customer had sat at his desk, just about to give his final approval on her offer. And then there was a sharp pain at the back of her head. That was the last Mara could remember.
Unconsciousness beckoned, but Mara fought against it. She had to figure out more this time. <Concentrate!> she ordered herself.
The idea finally came to her, in all its simplicity. Someone must have struck her from behind.
But why had not she sensed it? It was true that Mara never used her Force abilities to gain an unfair advantage in her business dealings, but even if she had not been trying to sense anything directly she should have registered some level of danger.
Then it all began to make sense. There had been that oddly familiar sensation -- or rather, a familiar lack of sensation. There must have been ysalamiri, those creatures from the planet Myrkr that had the unique, self-defense ability of creating a bubble that blocked out the Force. It was the only explanation that made any sense. Mara also noticed, for the first time, that her Force sense was still absent. But why had all this happened? Where was she and why was she here? She strained to find some hint of understanding, but the hovering darkness was gaining strength. Mara passed out again.
Three months later FBI Headquarters, Washington DC X-Files Division 8:23 a.m.
Special Agent Fox Mulder read the final sentence of the file's report, completing what must have been at least his seventh or eight perusal that morning, before easing back in the chair. His gaze drifted across the desk to rest on a disheveled stack of papers, but the man's mind was elsewhere. The case did not appear to be greatly out of the ordinary, certainly not as strange as many of the others he had encountered over the past several years. Yet Mulder's instincts had not ceased buzzing from the moment he had gotten the call from an acquaintance at the E.M. Dirksen Federal Office Building in Chicago. This one would prove very interesting. He could feel it.
The agent's thoughts were cut short by a barely audible, but familiar, patterned clip-clap noise from the hallway. The sound of that ever-determined and, he estimated, size five and a half step, or perhaps more truthfully, the source behind it, brought the slightest hint of a smile to his lips. Just as he had a hunch about this case, likewise he had a hunch about what his partner's reaction would be. She would think he was absolutely crazy.
"Morning Scully," Mulder commented before the woman was even halfway through the door. "Have a nice dinner with your mother last night?"
Dana Scully hung her coat and crossed the cluttered office, easing her way into a comfortable sitting position on the corner of Mulder's desk. "Pleasant enough." She glanced with mild interest through the pile of morning mail. "Mom still wants to know if I've met anyone besides aliens or mutants lately," she teased good-naturedly.
Mulder refused to let the playful challenge pass without a jibe of his own. "Now Scully, you know it's part of her motherly duties to see to it that her daughter marry someone who is, preferably, not an alien or mutant. She's only got your best interests at heart."
The female agent deposited the mail on Mulder's desk and gave a slight wave of her hand, as if the entire concept were nothing more than a daily, trivial matter. "Yeah, I know. So I assured her that if I met a good-looking, charming, blue-eyed blonde who was neither an alien or a mutant, she'd be the first to know."
Mulder feigned a wounded expression. "And I thought hazel eyes were your preference. Alas, I've been deceived all along."
Scully rolled her eyes and gave a slight shake of her head, auburn tresses swaying with the movement. "By the way, Mom says, quote, tell Fox I said hello, end quote." Dana emphasized the use of her partner's given name and, as always, marveled at the fact that Margaret Scully was one of the few, if only, people who could do that and receive a smile in return rather than the customary scowl. "So, are you going to tell me about the case?" Scully asked.
"Case?" Mulder donned a perfectly innocent expression.
"Oh, come on, Mulder," Scully began, rising and moving to stand beside him. "You've got that look. It can only mean one thing." Her eyes, casually scanning the maze of piles and stacks on Mulder's desk, finally caught on the file in question. She picked it up. "So, you going to give me hints or do I have to guess flat out?"
As Scully began to peruse the file, Mulder launched in with a highlights version of the case. "The case itself is not terribly odd. It begins as nothing more than a few random sightings, in Chicago, of what is described as a very suspicious looking man. There are also a couple of reports regarding the strange disappearance of a similar character." Mulder pointed to a picture of a police drawing, which Scully had just turned to in the file. It depicted a somewhat attractive man, perhaps in his early thirties, with dark, neatly cut hair and large dark eyes. "That's the composite based on the reports. These reports only came to the notice of local police when actual crimes were committed."
"It says here that the suspect was often seen in various branches of local and university libraries?" Scully interjected.
Mulder nodded. "That's where the crimes come in, actually. It appears that several books and reference materials have been stolen. And then there's the problem with the computers."
Scully raised an eyebrow. "Computers?"
"That's where it begins to get a bit strange. The computer hardware itself remains intact, but something has happened to the software and computer files."
"In what way?"
Mulder shrugged. "The reports are vague on that subject, but it appears all the information stored on the computers has been effectively wiped away. In most cases, the cure has been nothing more than doing a restore. Time consuming, but with reliable back-up systems, the libraries have not lost any crucial information."
"Erasure?"
"Not exactly. All files were gone, but if it was simply erased it was not done so by any conventional means. According to a local expert at one of the libraries, there are interesting yet inexplicable side effects." Mulder seemed to pause for a moment. He already had a few ideas regarding the computer problem, but it was certainly too early to voice anything at this point. There were still too many variables to investigate first.
"There has to be more," Scully finally said when Mulder did not continue.
"Did you notice the comments from one of the witnesses about the blue light?"
Scully scanned through some of the pages again until her eyes rested on something she had missed before -- a brief paragraph and a small yellow post-it-note, with Mulder's familiar scrawl, attached as a flag.
While Scully read, Mulder waited patiently for the response. He did not have to wait long.
"You're absolutely crazy. You know that?"
Mulder gave a wide smile in return. "Feel like a trip to the windy city, Scully?"
"We're actually going? Mulder, what do you possibly hope to find?" Scully asked, knowing it was pointless to try and dissuade him.
Mulder, now headed for the door with coat in hand, turned and faced her, his face all serious now. "Answers." Pulling on his coat, he added, "our flight is at 9:55. Better get home and pack."
Chicago, Illinois 11:42 a.m.
The 1971 green Buick Riviera made a mad dash through the intersection, but not before the traffic light changed from yellow to red.
The passenger, Constable Benton Fraser, wondered briefly if he should, once again, make comment on his friend's less than perfectly lawful driving habits. "You mentioned there was new information about the case," he said instead.
"Yeah, and you're gonna love this one, Benny. They actually called in the feds."
Fraser nearly grimaced, remembering past experiences between the Chicago police department and federal agents. He cleared his throat. "Anyone we've worked with before?"
Detective Ray Vecchio caught his friend's reaction. "No, but do not consider that as good news. These two are coming directly from DC and they may be the worst we've seen yet."
Fraser pretended not to notice that they had just barely missed hitting a pedestrian. "Now Ray, I hardly see how we can pass judgment on these two agents based solely on our experience with other agents, or the mere fact that they are from the main office in Washington, DC."
"You haven't heard the rest of it." Ray threw a sideways glance at the Mountie and smiled. "These two work for something called the X-files Division. Do you have any idea what that means?"
"Well, if you are referring to the X-files Division itself, I believe that it's a section of the Federal Bureau of Investigation which handles cases, both new and previously unsolved, that deal with paranormal phenomena, including the possible existence of extra-terrestrials. And if memory serves, I believe J. Edgar Hoover opened the very first official X-file himself in 1946. But if you are referring to what this means in association with our particular case, then I haven't the slightest."
Ray rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. What it means is that we're about to get stuck with a couple of folks from la-la land. These two are a couple of weirdo alien chasers. We're talking definite strange characters here. Total geeks, probably with coke-bottom glasses. And I can guarantee you one of them will be short and pot-bellied and the other will be a tall beanpole. They hang out in big empty fields in the middle of the night watching for UFOs. I bet they even howl at the sky when there's a full moon."
The last comment received a distinct snide comment in the form of an offended half growl, half whine from the wolf in the rear seat of the car.
"Dief, I'm sure Ray did not mean that as a derogatory comment in general," Benton assured his canine friend before returning his attention to Ray. "Why has this case drawn the attention of agents from the X-files Division?"
"No idea about that one," the detective replied, pulling the Riv into the small parking area behind the police station. "But we'll find out soon enough."
Coruscant Imperial Palace
Luke Skywalker bolted upright, the startled cry dying away on his lips in the slow realization that comes with the beginnings of wakefulness. Luke blinked in the darkness, eyes automatically searching for the window that sat in the wall at his left. But the window was absent, and for a moment he was not certain where he was. Then he remembered. This was his room in the Imperial Palace. He had come to Coruscant to visit his family for a few days.
Luke threw back the light cover of his bed and swung his legs over, seeking the reassurance of the cool, solid floor beneath his bare feet. He knew the room was set at a comfortable temperature, but he was wet with perspiration nevertheless. His breathing was heavy. All the after effects of a typical nightmare.
If only this particular nightmare could be typical.
It was one Luke had been having for several nights, off and on for the past couple of months. Not always identical, but basically the same each time. Someone with Force potential was doing something. In the dream, Luke never could pinpoint who it was, or what the specific action was. He only knew that it was being done for the purposes of evil. There was something else there too. This person, whoever it was, was not particularly powerful in the Force, and he or she was somehow accomplishing this evil with the aid of another Force sensitive. Currently, that was all Luke had been able to conclude.
Pushing the last of sleep's haziness from his mind, Luke made his way into the kitchen area of his suite. Preparing a mug of warm tea, he sat at the table and once again tried to piece together the puzzle of his dreams. He had shared with Leia, about his nightmares, the evening before. He knew that none of the students at the Jedi Academy were experiencing these dreams, but he had been a little surprised when Leia admitted she had not either. Leia's skills and abilities were not as focused as his, but Luke had long ago come to realize that their blood relation gave them a unique tie through the Force. He had almost expected that Leia would be having similar dreams, but she had not. None of the Solo children had complained of troubling dreams either. There was also the fact that the nightmares were becoming more frequent, and more intense. Thus, Luke was beginning to wonder if it was more than a random occurrence of troubled sleep. Maybe the Force was trying to tell him something.
Not for the first time Luke wondered if perhaps Mara had experienced any dreams like this recently. But he had not seen her or heard from her in several months. He did not even have any ideas about where she might be. Luke held the half-empty mug between his hands and stared into the now tepid liquid. The tea was a somewhat common brew and Luke neither particularly liked it nor disliked it. It was Mara, actually, who had introduced it to him, since it was one she especially enjoyed. Thus he always kept some on hand in the event Mara ever happened to be around for a visit or on business. Considering how rarely their paths crossed these days, Luke wondered why he still bothered. Or, more importantly, why he often chose to drink it when she was not even around. Probably, Luke admitted to himself, because the brew reminded him of the feisty redhead he had come to call friend.
A not so random thought flickered into Luke's mind. He wished he did know where Mara was. He would very much like to discuss this whole nightmare business with her. Luke had racked his own brain trying to put together some kind of meaning to it all, only to continually come up empty. Mara had a way of viewing things, which often provided insights Luke himself would never have considered. It was just one of the reasons he had always believed they made such a good team. And it was times like this when he truly missed her helpful opinions and suggestions. There were, of course, other things about Mara he missed, and which also influenced his wish that he knew where she was. But such thoughts were never very productive, except in the result of usually putting him in a somewhat melancholy mood. Best not to even go there right now, Luke thought to himself as he rose from the table. He emptied and rinsed the mug, and trying not to ponder too heavily his thoughts regarding Mara, trekked back to bed.
Chicago, Illinois 27th District Police Station 11:46 a.m.
The female civilian aide glanced up from her casual lookout post at the file cabinet. Casting a quick check at the clock, she returned her gaze to the two men who had just come through the door. "Cutting it awfully close, Vecchio," she chided.
Her usual playful tone was noticeably absent, so the detective opted to drop the snide remark his mind had been forming. "Lieutenant upset?" he asked.
"Only if you don't get yourself in that office pronto. I was able to cover for you for a few minutes, but your time is running out."
"Thanks Elaine," Ray offered one of his flashing, genuinely appreciative smiles.
"Let's just say you owe me one. Again." Elaine shifted her attention to the detective's companion. "Welsh wants you in there too, Fraser."
"Ah. Thank you kindly, Elaine."
Without further conversation, the pair made their way into Lieutenant Welsh's office.
"Sorry we're late, sir," Ray began even before he was fully through the doorway.
"Save it for next time, Vecchio." Welsh stood and indicated the two other people in his office. "Gentlemen, Special Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully from the DC office of the FBI. Agents, this is Detective Ray Vecchio and Constable Benton Fraser." Pleasantries were quickly exchanged before Welsh sat again and continued. "They're here regarding the library case. Agent Mulder?"
The tall man with a stoic expression gave the slightest of nods. "We received information about your case, Detective, through the FBI branch office here in Chicago. Agent Scully and I work specifically with a division known as the X-files. Because of the work we do, this case has come to our attention."
"Excuse me," Ray interrupted as politely and professionally as he could manage. He was still perturbed about the FBI squeezing their way into his case, especially when it appeared to be such an insignificant one. "I understand that the X-files deals with, among other things, investigation related to the possibility of paranormal activity. I'm unclear about how this relates to my case."
The pair of agents exchanged a glance, Mulder's being slightly inquisitive while Scully's, after zipping through a variety of expressions, seemed to settle in something akin to resignation. The detective used the brief pause to inspect the agents closely. They were certainly nothing like the stereotypical absurdity he had postulated to Fraser earlier in the car, at least not in physical appearance. Well, so maybe he had gotten the one about their heights correct, but that was where any similarities ended. The man was dressed in what Ray immediately recognized as a very fine suit, that hung in a casual, well-worn sort of way on his frame. Still, it had "government employee" written all over it. Only the tie, which was garish to say the least, looked as if it belonged in some other fashion ensemble. The female agent was petite and dressed in a smart business suit. Everything about the woman's posture and general bearing seemed to ring out self-assurance. Ray noticed she had striking blue eyes, and suddenly found himself thinking how attractive she was. As he continued to watch the silent exchange between the pair, Ray was not certain just what to make of it, other than the fact that, without doubt, an unspoken communication had just taken place.
"I don't have enough information to make a conjecture at this time," Mulder finally replied, returning his attention toward the detective. "I can only say that I have an impression that this case may hold some interest for us."
Ray's displeasure at having his job trespassed by federal bigwigs was not appeased. "But it's only a case involving nothing much more than simple breaking and entering, and theft at some libraries. Why in the world would the FBI, a direct branch from the DC office no less, be interested in taking over this case?"
"Detective Vecchio, we're not here to take over your case," Scully interjected firmly. "We simply want to do some investigating of our own to determine if Agent Mulder's ideas are justified."
"And you are to offer any assistance these agents may require," Welsh added before Ray could comment again. "Is that understood?"
A flicker of disapproval remained in the American-Italian's eyes, but he conceded with a minimal amount of respect. "Yes, sir."
Welsh continued. "Constable Fraser, if you have no other obligations at this time, I would also like for you to offer any assistance to these agents until they have finished their investigations."
Fraser, who had remained silent and still in a back corner of the office, responded with a quick nod. "Understood, Lieutenant."
The apparent necessities taken care off, Mulder plunged ahead. "We'd like to begin by checking out some of the libraries where these disturbances have taken place."
"Okay," Ray replied with a resigned sigh. "Let's get to it."
"Interesting pair," Scully commented dryly, as the rental car pulled from it's parking place to follow the green Buick.
Mulder popped a sunflower seed into his mouth before commenting. "That was just his professional pride flaring up a bit because the feds have come onto his turf. Vecchio's got a sharp mouth, but I don't think he's going to give us any trouble."
"You're probably right, Mulder. But what do you make of the Constable?"
"A little quiet, probably considered rather attractive by the female gender considering the solid build, dark hair, and blue eyes. And no doubt he's polite to a fault. He is, after all, Canadian."
Scully's mouth drew into a sarcastic smirk. "Very funny. I meant why do you suppose a member of the RCMP is working with the Chicago Police Department."
"Anybody's guess," Mulder replied, discarding an empty sunflower seedpod into the pocket of his suit jacket. "There is a Canadian Consulate in Chicago. Perhaps they simply work together on cases of mutual interest. Considering the Library of International Relations is one of the places on our list, this might be one of those situations. Besides, those two obviously have some sort of loosely understood partner arrangement. Maybe the good Constable is just the only one in all of Chicago who would work with someone like Vecchio."
"I don't suppose it matters anyway," Scully admitted. "It just seems odd, that's all. And did you notice the dog?" She paused, thoughtfully. "At least, I think it was a dog."
"Don't worry, Scully. I doubt he'll be a problem either."
The female agent nodded, and an amused smile began to work its way across her face as her mood lightened. "I just hope the Mountie doesn't break into song at the first available opportunity," she joked.
"Interesting pair," Ray commented sourly as he pulled his beloved Riv into the flow of traffic.
"How do you mean?"
"I tell you, Fraser, there's just something about those two. They're being awfully secretive. And did you see that look they gave each other when I asked them why they were so interested in this case?"
"Yes. It's obvious they do share a unique sense of unspoken communication. Probably a result of working together so closely in extremely intense situations over an extended period of time. As for their secrecy, well, they are special agents of the FBI, Ray. I would imagine much of their work involves top secret information. If we need to know, I'm sure they'll inform us."
"What?" Ray asked incredulously. "You mean Little Red and G-Man? Give me a break, Fraser. This case must have some importance or such hotshots wouldn't even be here. They're gonna use us, treat us like peons the entire time, and when they're finished we'll never get so much as a thank you from them."
"Now Ray, perhaps you're overreacting. I know you don't like having the FBI step in to work with us, but we're just going to have to make the best of it. Besides, they seem friendly enough. I don't think we have anything to worry about."
Ray continued to drive in silence, fighting against the urge to let his initial irritation simmer to a boil. Fraser was right. The agents had not given him any reason to be angry other than the fact that they were joining in his case. At least they had not immediately come across in a condescending manner as all his other FBI acquaintances had done. The more he considered it, Ray had to admit that neither of the X-files agents were anything like what he had expected, a thought he now shared with his friend. "Although G-Man does seem a little odd." He paused, searching for some way to describe his feeling. "Not sure how to say it other than something about him just seems spooky."
"Now Ray, you're just being silly."
"Doesn't matter anyway," the detective went on, "because his partner more than makes up for it. You know, just looking at those two you might think he walks all over her. But I bet Little Red holds her own. A spitfire, that one. Not bad looking either."
Any further conversation on the matter was stifled as Ray pulled the Riv into a parallel parking space in front of the Chicago-Kent College of Law.
Night's silence had settled easily throughout the upper residential levels of the Imperial Palace, disturbed only briefly by the occasional droid or security personnel making scheduled rounds down one of the numerous hallways. One particular member of the latter category was beginning his usual trek down the familiar path of a corridor when he distinctly heard the sound of a male voice crying out in alarm. The lieutenant momentarily froze, his brain automatically processing the source of the sound. It was coming from behind a door not far down along the wall. Immediately he was running down the corridor, drawing his blaster even as his feet skidded to a halt before the door. Searching his memorized files of information, the guard quickly cataloged this area as being a part of the Jedi Master Skywalker's suite. Cautiously, he listened for any further sounds. There was nothing but silence. A bit hesitantly, he moved to knock on the door.
Even before the guard's raised fist made its first strike against the surface, the door opened to reveal a figure clad in pajama pants with tousled hair and a calm, but alert expression.
"Oh, excuse me, sir," the lieutenant began, obviously caught by surprise. "I'm sorry to disturb you but I, ah... I though I heard a cry, sir."
Luke looked somewhat chagrined, but managed a smile. "I believe the apology is mine to make," he cast a quick glance at the security guard's name below his insignia, "Lieutenant McCallum. It was nothing more than a dream, but I admit I did cry out. I'm sorry if it caused you any alarm."
Now it was the guard who displayed a slightly embarrassed expression. "Oh, no problem at all, sir." The man, who stood nearly an inch shorter than Luke, shuffled his feet once or twice as his own blue eyes faltered away from the Jedi's gaze. "I'll just be on my way then, if there's nothing else, sir."
Luke shook his head and thanked the lieutenant once again. He closed the door and stood against it in the dimness of the room, listening absently as the guard's footsteps slowly drifted away down the hall.
A familiar presence swept across his consciousness. <Luke, is everything alright?>
Luke made his way in the darkness to one of the oversized chairs that occupied this area of his suite and practically fell into its folds. <Yes, Leia, I'm fine. Sorry I woke you.>
There was the briefest of pauses. <The dream again?>
The Jedi sighed. <Yes. And the worst one yet. Apparently, I even cried out in my sleep. Gave one of the security guards in the hallway a little excitement for his evening rounds.>
He could feel Leia's amusement at the last part, but then she was all seriousness again. <Want to talk about it?>
Luke had to fight to suppress a shudder as his memory flashed again with parts of the nightmare. This time all the pieces had finally fallen into place. This time he knew what was going on. <We definitely need to talk, but it can wait until morning.> He could feel Leia's uncertainty and hesitation as it mixed with her overwhelming concern for her brother. <I believe I know the meaning behind these dreams, but I need a little more time to think, to gather all my thoughts. I'll be ready in the morning.>
<Okay, if you're sure.> There was another brief pause. <My first meeting isn't until 0900. Why don't you join me for an early breakfast?>
Luke sent a positive reply.
<Goodnight, Luke. I love you.>
<Love you too, Leia.>
In the meditative silence that followed Luke allowed his mind to work through the dream again. While it had not laid out everything in specific detail, it had given clues that led to certain undeniable conclusions. And it had provided a face, a face with a name: Soren.
It was still fairly early, but all about Coruscant there was evidence of another day gearing up to full progress. Traffic, both pedestrian and motorized, was steadily increasing. Soon, the various places of business would open and begin their morning routine. At the Imperial Palace, droids and staff were already busy bustling about, wherever responsibility led them. Before long, those seated in high offices of government would be forced to jump into the fray of one more day in the life of the New Republic. However, in the Presidential Suite, one particular member of that later category was already deep into the fray; indeed, had been for some time. As morning rays of Coruscant's sun shone through the multiple windows, casting a pleasant glow across the small breakfast nook, Princess Leia Organa Solo sat at a small table. The domestic droid had cleared the last of the dishes, and her brother had just finished giving the final pieces of information about his dream.
"Soren," Leia said with a questioning tone. "That name isn't familiar. Do you know him?"
Luke shook his head. "I didn't recognize his face either. He is Force sensitive, but as far as I can tell he's never had any contact with me or any of the students from the Academy."
The Princess leaned back in her chair and spread her hands out across the table. "Okay, let me make sure I understand everything correctly. From these dreams you've been able to deduce that someone named Soren, using the Force, has been able to open a doorway of sorts. Although Soren has some level of mastery, he's not very strong in the Force and so he's found another Force adept to aid him in the opening of this doorway. At this point you do not know who this other person is. Also, you do not know where this doorway leads, or why Soren is even using it. All you know is that he is undoubtedly doing it for evil purposes." Leia paused and received a positive nod from her brother.
Her next question was not one Leia particularly wanted to ask. But, she could not ignore it; for while the heart of the old Empire had been defeated, there continued even in the years afterwards to be the occasional Imperial faction which would rise and clamor for attention. "Do you believe Soren is working for or with the Imperials?"
"Soren considers himself an Imperial, of that I'm sure," Luke replied. "But I believe he works primarily alone. I got the feeling there was only himself, the other Force adept, and possibly one other person, an aide or some sort of assistant. So whatever he's planning, it's being kept low key in that respect."
Leia nodded, chewing absently on her lower lip as her mind worked out the possibilities. "What do you think is the overall danger of all this? I mean, if it's just a few people,... I just don't think I'm seeing the potential of this the same way you are."
Luke understood his sister's hesitance, and he doubted, even with their connection through the Force, that he could fully convey to her the nearly overwhelming sense of dread that his dreams had stirred. "Leia, I'm not sure what the potential danger is in terms of how it affects the New Republic, or even any specific part of the New Republic. But I know there is more here than it seems. And my worst suspicion is that by whatever means Soren has learned to open this Force doorway, it's having terrible consequences. I contacted the Academy this morning, before I came here. Some of the students are beginning to complain of sleep disturbances now, as well as just negative Force premonitions in general." He took hold of Leia's petite hands and fixed her with a steeled gaze. "I don't pretend to understand all this, but I'm certain of one thing. Soren has to be stopped, and soon. If he isn't, then the repercussions could be far worse than I care to imagine.
Leia shuddered involuntarily. She had seen that expression on her brother's face a few times before. She knew what it meant. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to try and figure out how Soren is using the Force to open this doorway. And then I'm going to go through it."
"Are you crazy?" Leia nearly shouted. "You spend all of this morning trying to convince me how dangerous all this is and now you tell me that you want to try it yourself?"
"I have to figure out what Soren is up to, to try and find out where he's going, and why."
"And so you think doing this little Force doorway trick is the only way to do that?" she retorted. "I can't believe such nonsense."
"Leia, I know this probably is not the best way, but I honestly don't know what else to try."
"But what else have you tried?" Leia pleaded. "There has to be another way to find Soren."
The Jedi shook his head. "I was meditating practically the entire night after I woke up from the last dream. I tried everything I know in an attempt to find Soren through the Force, or to find some trace of what he was doing, or why. Believe me Leia when I say I've tried to think of every other possible alternative. I just don't think there is any other way."
A heavy silence held between them. Luke knew Leia was struggling, engaging in the constant battle of her feelings between knowing what is right and her devoted concern regarding those she loved most.
"I trust you to do what's best," she finally managed. Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she squeezed Luke's hand for added assurance. "And I trust that if this Soren and his doorway are as big a threat as you believe, then you'll find a way for us to stop him."
The man reclined on his bunk, finding an odd comfort in the thin, stiff mattress. Certainly sleep would not come, but the physical part of his body would gather some sense of refreshment from this brief rest. Filling his lungs with a deep, relaxing breath, Soren closed his eyes, and allowed his mind to run wild. Immediately, he was immersed in thought, contemplating the knowledge that the final stage of his plan would soon come to pass.
An anticipatory smile crept upon Soren's mouth. What had begun as nothing more than a vague notion was now about to become full reality. When the idea of being able to open some sort of vortex between time and space, using nothing but the power of the Force, had first dawned in his mind, Soren initially considered himself delusional. Yes, he was a genius, but Soren knew he had his limits. Still, it was too intriguing a concept to be abandoned. And after months of research, meticulously culling the few writings of the Emperor he had found, Soren finally convinced himself it was possible. The only problem had been his own Force powers.
Soren had long ago accepted the fact that his ability with the Force was mediocre at best. He had learned to use it to the fullest of his potential, and combined with his extreme intelligence and other gifts, Soren had gone farther and done more than most with similar abilities would have. But he realized it would never be enough. Soren simply was not powerful enough to open this vortex, this doorway on his own.
That was when Soren recalled something from the Emperor's writings, an obscure reference that he had initially discounted as insignificant. The reference mentioned something known as the Emperor's Hand. It had taken Soren a while, but persistent thought and a little investigation had finally led him to determine that the Emperor's Hand was someone who was Force sensitive. The Hand acted as a direct extension of the Emperor's will, doing his bidding, answering his call whenever and wherever it came. It had taken longer still to determine who the Emperor's Hand was. Research and inquiry via his most trusted means had provided little information. Then, it had all clicked into place, based simply upon one, stray memory.
It was during his years at the Imperial Academy, when the Emperor had begun to take an interest in him. Soren had answered a personal summons, and was waiting outside the huge, ornate doors. It was to be his first face to face meeting with the Emperor. Even now, Soren could clearly recall all the sights, sounds, smells of that moment. He was wound up with intense excitement. And while maintaining all due respect for his proper place, he was also feeling terribly cocky.
When the signal came, and the doors opened, Soren calmly stepped inside. He strode into the room, intent to display the proper balance of determination and obeisance before his Emperor. He had known that entering this grand throne room for the first time, there would be plenty in the surroundings to draw his attention to distraction. So Soren had promised himself that he would focus immediately upon the sole source of his intentions, the powerful man who would be seated at the highest and most central point. Soren may have been aggressive, but he also understood the importance of making a positive first impression.
As young Soren neared the central dais, he stopped at the foot of the stairs, noticing that the Emperor was speaking with someone. His eyes were immediately drawn to the figure, and he felt his breath catch in his chest. It was a woman, probably no older than himself, and there was unmistakably something about her. There was nothing extraordinary about her features, and yet Soren could not shake the sensation that she was undeniably lovely. He had heard rumors of the Emperor's concubines, and wondered if perhaps she was one.
The woman stood very still, extremely attentive. As the Emperor finished speaking, she gave one curt nod, and turned on her heel to leave. Soren found himself following her with his gaze as she moved towards an exit. Her movements were amazingly graceful, yet powerful in the same instant. Her lithe figure was like that of a dancer, or a finely trained athlete. Lustrous red-gold hair was pulled back in one, practical braid down her back.
Even as Soren stared, he knew he should pull his eyes from her, but he felt powerless to do so, even after she had soundlessly exited through a secret passage among the shadows. Finally aware of the heavy, expectant silence, Soren turned his eyes back to the Emperor. He realized his mistake too late, knowing full well that the powerful man could kill him in one swift instant. But the Emperor only smiled, a dark, knowing smile.
Now Soren knew that young woman had been Mara Jade. And though no longer known as the Emperor's Hand, her skills and abilities in that former position would serve Soren perfectly. When Soren had made the discovery, he was genuinely pleased that his path would cross with Jade's again. But, unfortunately, he had also discovered that Mara Jade was no longer serving in any Imperial capacity whatsoever. In fact, many of her past associations since the Emperor's death involved those traitorous Rebels. Soren realized Jade would never join him, or accept any part in his plan, of her own free will.
Still, Soren had worked his way around this slight inconvenience. Capturing Jade had proven simple enough, and the ysalamiri and drugs were keeping her as cooperative as was necessary. Drawing from her power in the Force, Soren had been able to open the doorway easily. And now, after several months of sending his second-in-command, Vaughn, through the doorway, Soren had gathered a great deal of information about that small, blue-green planet known as Terra. Yes, Soren did not intend to make the same blind mistakes his Emperor had. When he took power, Soren knew it would be complete. And Terra offered the perfect opportunity. The planet was ripe with potential, just waiting for a superior leader to step in and take control. Using the information Soren had gathered about the planet's history, the workings of its governments, he knew it would be easy prey.
A soft but insistent beep sounded, and Soren knew time for his short nap was over. Rising from his bunk to a standing position in one fluid motion, Soren stretched to assume his customary, perfect posture. He absently ran a hand to smooth his dark hair and paused, catching sight of himself in the full-length mirror. A self-satisfied smile took form on his face, and lingered. Soren had always been aware of his handsome features. The dark hair set a striking contrast against his pallid skin. Pale, gray eyes held the power to captivate. And a thin-lipped smile had proven useful in every means from melting a lady's heart to squelching the last remnants of an enemy's futile resolve.
Repressing a sigh, Soren turned away from his reflection. While pleased with his appearance, in all honesty it meant little to him. The fine quality of his mind had always been of far greater importance. And while that too had proven valuable against his enemies, it had often proven a stumbling block in other areas. Soren smirked at the irony of it. His looks, his charisma and alluring mystique, as well as his power, all could have won him the favor of any female he chose. What a pity they were all such wearisome imbeciles.
Soren had engaged in a small number of affairs during his youth, often winning the attention of ladies for which many of his superiors would have killed. But he had quickly grown tired of the childish games, the complete lack of even the least bit of stimulating conversation, and the sheer boredom of it all. Eventually, even the thrill of intimate, female companionship held little appeal for him in light of everything else he had to endure. In the end, Soren had decided that celibacy was preferable to suffering the stupidity of the female mind.
Besides, Soren mused as his gaze traveled over the rows and rows of books along one wall, there were other pleasures in life, many far more engaging than the opposite gender. Moving closer, he reached out and ran a finger along the spines of several books, walking along and reading their familiar titles. Certainly these works could have been more easily stored and accessed on a few datacards. But Soren preferred keeping these, his favorites, in their antiquated form. There was simply something about being able to hold a book in your hand, to feel the pages as you slowly turned them, one by one. Pausing at a particularly cherished book, Soren smiled and pulled it from the shelf. His fingers ran lovingly over the cover, a fine animal hide that was beginning to show signs of wear. The book easily opened to one of his favorite passages. Soren read silently, allowing the words to speak by their own power. His eyes seemed to caress the words as he read, their tones and syllables coming alive. He could almost imagine the smell of the ink on the paper. Soren finished the passage, and with a contented sigh replaced the book to its rightful place among the others. He never ceased to be amazed at how sensual mere reading could be for him.
Shifting his attention to the computer console at another wall, Soren strode to a particular panel and pressed a small, nondescript switch. One of the screens flickered to life. The image that immediately focused was one Soren had witnessed before. A quiet, patient man was slowly spooning a yellowish substance into the mouth of his female ward. He was careful to wipe away where it spilled over from her mouth. The woman's eyes were open, staring ahead vacantly. But they were not totally empty. The barest hint of fire still burned, like emerald embers.
Adjusting the view slightly, Soren zoomed in on the ashen face. As lovingly has he had caressed the book, Soren ran a finger along the outline of the woman's jaw as it appeared on the screen. A predatory smile tugged at his mouth. Here was a woman who proved somewhat the exception to his rule. Certainly Mara Jade did not possess an intellect anywhere near equal to his own, but Soren felt she was far above average -- far enough that it would be easily bearable. And she had many, many other positive attributes to help constitute the balance. Among them, Soren noted, was her fine beauty. It was not the striking beauty of some, but rather a more subtle, and therefore far more alluring magnificence.
The image of the woman on the computer screen suddenly jerked, as Mara vehemently spewed out the final bite of sustenance her caretaker was so patiently attempting to provide. Soren chuckled. And then of course, there was that famous Mara Jade temperament, an attractive quality all its own. Sighing, he reached out and shut off the screen. What a shame, he muttered to the empty room. Aside from her annoying sense of right and justice, Jade was nearly perfect.
Soren spent the next few moments viewing scenes displayed on other screens, monitoring the nearly empty streets outside, the completely empty corridors inside, and the delicately stabilized environment of ysalamiri. The signal from his personal comm buzzed at precisely the second Soren had anticipated it would.
"Enter." Soren's rich voice filled the entire room effortlessly.
The door of Soren's private sanctuary opened, and the man from the image on the screen earlier stepped inside. Within two steps he executed an exact military halt, and bowed.
Soren turned with the identical precision of his second, and offered a slight nod. "How is our guest?"
"Ms. Jade finished most of her meal. She is resting."
Soren's hands clasped causally behind his back as he began to slowly pace, considering the information. As usual, Vaughn was sparing in his report. But Soren heard every hidden message. The fact that Mara had eaten this time meant she had grown too weak and hungry to fight against it. Not surprising, considering she had not eaten anything during the previous eighteen hours. And by resting, it could either be inferred that Mara was sleeping or had fallen unconscious again. Either was just as likely, and for Soren's purposes it did not matter which it actually was.
"Good," Soren finally said. He stopped, and turned to face the other man. The hint of a smile began to form. "The time is near."
The man merely nodded in response.
Soren did not bother to hide his growing enthusiasm. He strode toward Vaughn, resting hands firmly on the second's shoulders. "Vaughn, my dear and faithful friend, you have proven invaluable to me. When we step through the doorway, for the final time, to claim Terra as my own, I will reward you as I have promised. You will stand by me, as it should be."
Vaughn's voice was reverent. "It is honor enough to serve you, my lord."
Soren nodded appreciatively at the praise. "And that moment is coming. But first, there is one more mission I request of you." Soren paused, stepping away to retrieve a datacard. "I must send you back, to one of the locations where you've already been. This datacard indicates the information you are to retrieve."
Vaughn accepted the datacard without question. "Yes sir."
Soren fixed the man with a firm stare. "Your orders are as they have always been. If you should be captured, you know what you must do."
"I do, sir."
Soren considered him for a moment in silence. Vaughn had proven himself faithful over the years, and his intelligence was advanced enough that he had even provided some sense of equitable companionship to Soren from time to time. So close to ultimate success, Soren would hate to lose him.
"Come," Soren said finally. "I will open the door while our guest is resting. She fights against it less then, and it will be easier for her as well as me."
Chicago-Kent College of Law 12:38 p.m.
At the corner of Adams and Clinton, a rental car pulled into a parking space a few slots behind the Buick Riviera. Within a few seconds, two FBI special agents, a Chicago police detective, and a Royal Canadian Mounted Police constable were making their way into the ten-story building that housed the Library of International Relations. Diefenbaker, much to his chagrin, had been forced to remain in the car. But he faithfully stood his post, surveying the area as best he could from his limited viewpoint, even as his companions disappeared from sight.
"The Library of International Relations began as a private library founded by Chicagoan Eloise ReQua, and then joined the Chicago-Kent College of Law at the Illinois Institute of Technology in 1983," Fraser was quoting from one of the many obscure files in his memory. "The library contains international reference materials in history, economics, and business, as well as law. As a depository library for the United Nations, the European Union, and GATT, the Library receives current periodicals from more than 100 countries. It contains over 100,000 volumes of treatises, serials, periodical literature and more than 750,000 documents of international organizations and agencies."
The entourage entered one of the elevators on the first floor and Ray noticed the somewhat bewildered expression Scully passed to her partner. Ray leaned in slightly, his five foot eleven inch height nearly towering the petite agent. "His grandmother was a librarian. He tends to be a bit overzealous about these sort of things."
Scully nodded, accepting the explanation if not entirely understanding it. Completing their elevator travel in silence, the group arrived at the Library of International Relations. Mulder was out first, already in direct route for the information desk. Scully hurried to keep up. Vecchio followed nonchalantly while Fraser walked almost daze-like, in a seeming sense of rapture, as one once lost who had suddenly found his way home.
The woman seated at the information desk perfectly fit the description of the stereotypical librarian. Late middle-aged, plain brown hair pulled back in a fastidious bun, a knit sweater draped precisely about her stern shoulders, she peered over the top of horn-rimmed spectacles. "May I help you?" she asked in a prim, schoolmistress voice.
Mulder withdrew and displayed his FBI identification, speaking politely but pointedly. "I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder. I'd like to speak with a Miss Joy Lewis."
The woman studied the identification with a practiced eye. "Yes, I believe you'll find Miss Lewis in one of our computer areas on the seventh floor."
With a quick thank you, the group moved on. They soon found the area they were looking for, a medium-size room containing several tables with computer stations of various kinds. Mulder spied a figure amidst multiple computers and computer related machinery in one corner and quickened his pace.
"Excuse me, Miss Lewis?"
The figure paused and looked up. The smiling face that now greeted them was as much a contrast to the typical librarian as the first receptionist had been the stereotype. She had a perfectly proportionate face and features that seemed to naturally burst forth with expression. Hazel eyes glinted with a starburst effect and a mass of blonde hair, obviously with a mind of its own, fell in an unruly but not unflattering manner, cascading down around her shoulders.
"Yes, may I help you?" The voice was a pleasant alto.
The FBI identification and badge flashed again. "I'm Agent Fox Mulder, this is Agent Dana Scully." He paused, casting a glance over Scully's shoulder to see their two companions. The Mountie wore what Mulder guessed would be his usual, pleasant expression. The detective's expression held the hint of a challenge, daring Mulder to even consider not recognizing their presence. "And these gentlemen, Detective Vecchio and Constable Fraser, are with the Chicago Police Department. We'd like to ask you some questions."
The young lady's brows furrowed slightly. "This is about the recent break-in, isn't it?"
Mulder gave a definitive nod.
"Alright. Give me half a minute to start this program I'm working on." Her attention returned to the computer monitor in front of her, fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. One last light stroke to the enter key and the woman stood. "Why don't we move over to the table where we can all sit down?"
They followed to the opposite side of the room where a rectangular table sat surrounded by several chairs. After everyone was seated, Scully began the interview. "Miss Lewis, why don't you tell us what you remember about the incident."
Joy Lewis gave a detailed account of her story. As both a law student and a part-time employee of the library, she had been in the building after closing hours, doing research for one of her projects. She had just been finishing a final computer search when suddenly everything on her screen went blank. A quick investigation did not reveal any sign of the reason why. There did not appear to be any problem with the equipment and there was no power shortage as other systems in the library were still running. Joy had then decided to check the main computer terminals of the library, which were here on this floor. Just as she entered through the front door she saw a figure exiting through the back. Only then did she recall having heard reports of break-ins at two separate university libraries in the city. She quickly called the police to inform them of the situation and then checked the computers. Just as reports of the other two incidents had indicated, all information on the computers had been erased.
Mulder nodded. So far her story was perfectly consistent with the police report. "And you noticed something out of the ordinary about this erasure?"
Joy screwed her features slightly, as if puzzling over the best possible way to answer. "It's not something I could explain easily. I mean, unless you know upper level programming you wouldn't even be able to understand what I was talking about. But as I got into the system it was clear to me that something strange had happened. The files had been downloaded, and in process it had also erased everything. But it was not by any method I'm familiar with nor was it something I could even begin to figure out. And that's the strange part, you see. I don't like to say much about it, but the fact is I've always been pretty gifted in the area of computers. The technology and the way things work, it just comes to me. That's one of the reasons why I was able to get the job part-time here in the library working with the computer systems operations. And I'm quite certain that whatever that fellow did to get our files was by some means of technology that was way beyond me, or anything I've ever seen or heard about."
A silence held in the air. Scully, who had been taking notes, glanced at her partner. He had that expression which she knew all too well. He was already beginning to file the pieces of information into his odd system and working out possible theories, farfetched though they may be. And she knew that any questions that came next were not likely to be the average, investigative type.
Meanwhile Fraser had been following the interview with unwavering attention. Realizing that the process was primarily in the hands of the FBI agents at this point, he did not feel inclined towards interrupting. But he had also read the police reports thoroughly and he simply could not shake the feeling that this young woman was omitting something of importance. Clearing his throat, Fraser leaned forward across the table. "Miss Lewis, you mentioned the culprit exited this room through the rear entrance, there?" He pointed toward the door in the wall to their left.
Joy looked to the door, as if needing to verify its existence. "Yes, that's correct."
Fraser opened his mouth to say something, but then caught a glimpse of Agent Mulder's expression. At first he thought perhaps Mulder was, justifiably, upset about his interrupting the questioning. But on second thought it looked as if Mulder was trying to mentally predict what the Mountie was going to say next, almost as if the agent knew Fraser's thinking was along a similar line as his own. Fraser met the young woman's gaze. "Miss Lewis, are you quite certain about that?"
"Of course." Outwardly Joy remained calm and assured, but her voice was more hesitant than before.
"If we are to take your account as true, Miss Lewis, then I must comment that it would be quite impossible for you to have seen anyone exiting by that rear door. Considering the placement of the front entrance door, where you would have been standing at the time, anyone who was within two feet of the rear entrance would not have been in your field of vision."
As Fraser gave this little bit of information everyone looked back and forth between the front entrance, the rear entrance, and the design of the room between. He was absolutely right.
Joy bit at her lower lip and her gaze faltered. But she said nothing.
"How much, exactly, do you know about the incidents at other Chicago libraries?" Mulder asked.
"Only the basics, what was printed in the papers and on the news. And I've a friend who works with the computer system at the Newberry Library. We've spoken over the phone and through email, but mainly discussing the computer problem. He doesn't understand programming quite the way I do, but he agreed with me about this being something out of the ordinary."
Mulder nodded, knowing his next question would involve information that would not have been in the public records of the library break-ins. "Miss Lewis, we know you did not see the culprit leave by the rear door, but I do believe you saw him exit this room. Why don't you tell me what you really saw."
Joy only managed to hold the agent's penetrating gaze for a few seconds before turning away, nervously fingering one of the rings on her slender hands. "I told the police everything, when they arrived that night. But when I spoke about the light, I knew they didn't believe me." She leveled her gaze on Mulder again, her voice cold. "They didn't laugh at me, but they might as well have."
The agent smiled ever so slightly. "You might find I'm a bit more open to your story than the police have been."
Joy sighed heavily. "When I neared the entrance I could hear that someone was in the room, so naturally I proceeded cautiously. The door was cracked, and I could just see inside. A man was bent over one of the computer terminals near the center of the room. As odd as it may seem, the first thing that struck me was the man's attire. He was wearing what looked to be some type of uniform, but it wasn't anything I recognized. Certainly nothing affiliated with the university here. If I had to compare it to something,--" Joy paused, seemingly hesitant. "Well, to be honest, it reminded me of the kind of costumes I saw at a science fiction convention once. And I saw him retrieve a disk from the computer, but then he also pulled something from the side of the main box. I don't know what it was, I couldn't really see it well. But it looked small, no bigger than the man's hand. He stood and glanced at his wrist, like he was checking his watch. He was just standing there, facing away from me, when all of a sudden I could hear this strange humming noise. It was coming from the middle of the room, near where he stood. The noise seemed to be getting louder, although it wasn't really. I mean, it was more like you could feel it growing in intensity rather than actually hear it getting louder. Then, out of nowhere, this bluish-colored light just seemed to explode from the center of the room. It startled me alright, but it was not so bright that I needed to look away. The light actually appeared to be reaching out, across the room."
There was another, brief pause before Joy continued. "I could almost feel it, like it was a living thing or something." She shivered, just visibly, before meeting Mulder's eyes straight on again. "And then it was gone, and so was the man. He had simply disappeared. The whole thing couldn't have lasted more than two or three seconds."
Mulder and Fraser exchanged a glance. This time they knew they had gotten the whole truth.
"I didn't imagine it," Joy went on. "I know I can come up with some pretty outlandish ideas sometimes, but I know what I saw that night. There was a light and that man did disappear into it."
"I believe you," Mulder said. "I can't tell you what it means, but I want you to know I appreciate your honesty about this."
"It helps with your investigation, then?" The hazel starbursts brightened.
The agent nodded and stood. "Thank you, Miss Lewis." He offered his hand, and Joy shook it. Mulder pulled a business card from his coat pocket. "If you think of anything else, feel free to give me a call at this number."
"Thank you. I will."
The rest of the group bade their farewells and then followed Mulder to the elevator. The doors had barely closed before Ray attacked.
"Okay, you guys going to tell me what all that mumbo-jumbo was about?"
"I'd like to hear this one myself, Mulder," Scully piped in, donning an all too familiar skeptical expression.
"It's still too early for me to say, but I am working on a theory."
"A theory?" Ray exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "Oh man, I knew it. I just knew it. What did I tell ya, Benny? I may have been off on the physical description, but these two are definitely what I said they'd be."
"Excuse me?" Mulder said, his usual monotone taking a slightly defensive inflection.
"Now Ray," Fraser began in an attempt to deter his friend from saying something they would all regret.
But the detective would have none of that. "Exploding blue lights and humming noises? Just the type of thing I'd expect a couple of X-file, weirdo alien chasers like Little Red and G-Man here to go for."
Mulder, anger sparking quickly, took a step toward the detective and then nearly fell into him when there was a sudden jolt of the elevator. All eyes turned to where a short redhead stood, obvious displeasure etched on her face, one finger firmly depressing the emergency stop button.
"Detective Vecchio," Scully began with a strained calmness. "I believe you need to get something clear. The work that Agent Mulder and I do is thoroughly legitimate. While Mulder's ideas may often take a more eccentric path than most, they are always well thought out and analyzed. And as I have stated before, we are not here to take over your case. We're supposed to be working together on this, hopefully for the same aim -- that the perpetrator will be caught and held accountable for his crimes before more damage is done or, worse yet, before someone gets hurt. But if you find you cannot muster enough professional courtesy and/or respect to work with us on this case, then I suggest you remove yourself now and take up the matter with Lieutenant Welsh. Have I made myself understood?"
A heavily tense silence held before Ray finally managed a reply.
"Clearly understood, Agent Scully." His voice was plainly laced with annoyance, but at least the sarcastic edge had fallen away.
Scully removed her finger from the stop button and the elevator resumed. The remainder of the trip was conducted in absolute quiet. When the elevator reached the bottom floor and the doors opened both Ray and Mulder rushed out, but Fraser touched Scully's elbow, indicating a request for her to remain behind for a moment.
"Agent Scully, I would like to apologize on behalf--"
Dana held up a hand to silence him. "Constable, I admire your devotion to your partner, but that won't be necessary. I've worked with people like Vecchio before and the best thing you can do is simply face them down from the very beginning."
"Yes ma'am, I can see the logic in that, and I agree that in this case it was probably the best solution. But I wanted to say that I'd greatly appreciate it if you did not completely set your opinion about Detective Vecchio just yet. You see, he's had -- well, that is, we've both had, actually -- some less than positive encounters with other FBI agents from the Chicago office. And the only other time we've had any association with someone who claimed to have an encounter with extraterrestrial beings was an affair with a Canadian gentleman by the name of Ian. Of course, his claims about aliens proved to be unfounded, but you see, any mention of Ian or anything associated with Ian tends to be a terribly touchy subject as Detective Vecchio's first 1971 Buick Riviera comes into play, and so--"
"Constable, what exactly are you trying to tell me?" Scully finally cut in, barely tempering her exasperation.
"Just that I'd like you to give Ray another chance. He's a fine detective and a good man." Fraser paused, a somewhat bemused smile lighting his face. "It's just that the majority of his strongest qualities do not become apparent until you've been around him for a while."
Something of the Mountie's sincerity broke through and Scully sighed. "I meant what I said, Fraser. Neither Mulder or I will tolerate petty behavior that might interfere with this case. But, I will consider what you've said and hold my final judgement for a while longer." Without waiting for any further comment, she turned and went to join Mulder.
Mara had finally regained consciousness long enough to piece together what had happened. But the discovery was almost enough to make her wish she had simply died, or at least succumbed to a coma instead. She had indeed been kidnaped and was being held against her will. She appeared to be physically unharmed, although her body ached as if every muscle, every cell, had been strained beyond their limits. She was half lying, half sitting in an inclined chair, with her wrists, arms, ankles, thighs, and midsection securely bound to the chair. Ysalamiri were still nearby, effectively blocking all her perception of the Force.
Mara stared vacantly towards the ceiling of her cell, exuding animosity. This had been her state for... what? She could no longer remember. She had attempted to keep track of the time, but the constant bouts of unconsciousness in addition to the drugs she had been given soon made that impossible. All Mara knew was that it seemed, now, as if this had been her existence forever. She was being used, for evil purposes she was certain, although she had no idea what the specifics were. And she was, as she had never been before, in a predicament of total helplessness. It made her feel utterly wretched.
The only thing that had kept her alive this long, Mara reasoned, was that she was still fighting. As she lay, almost in a daze, Mara could not pinpoint what exactly she was doing to fight back, but some part of her knew that she was. She had always been a fighter. Her spirit simply refused to quit. And one of the things that fed her spirit during these long periods of isolation in her cell was that Mara's mind was free to wander. Under the influence of the drugs' side effects, her thoughts seemed amplified in her own mind at times. Also, without the Force, she no longer felt the need to bridle them. And so, without fail, her thoughts worked their way back to one subject in particular: Luke Skywalker.
Mara groaned, and the sound of her own voice echoed painfully in her ears. "Skywalker," she whispered to the empty cell, "won't you ever leave me in peace?"
Mara's feelings toward Luke had undoubtedly changed over the years. She had gone from despising him and desiring his death, to trusting him as a friend. And although she had fought desperately against it, Mara knew she had eventually had fallen in love with him. This last she had also fought desperately to keep hidden, not only from Luke but from everyone else as well. Living with a constant denial of her true feelings had simply become the norm.
Mara had never been certain how, or when, her feelings had changed. If she recalled that time in Jabba's palace, when she had actually seen him for the very first time, Mara had to admit that even then there was something about him. He had an undeniable sense of calm, but he hardly appeared the great threat about which the Emperor had warned her. That impression had proven severely incorrect, and when Luke had eventually brought about the Emperor's death, he had also destroyed Mara's life. Thus she had vowed to seek revenge and fulfill her master's last command -- to kill Luke Skywalker.
Then, sometime between her finding Skywalker stranded in space some five years later, and the necessity of their combined efforts to defeat Jorus C'baoth at Wayland, Luke had befriended her. It was a matter she did not take lightly, especially considering her hatred toward him at the time. How she could possibly have gone from desiring his death to considering him a friend, Mara had never been able to completely comprehend. It was more than the fact that killing the Luuke clone had ceased the horrible voice of the Emperor haunting her. It was more even than what Luke had done in trusting her, helping her to rescue Talon Karrde, and saving her life on several occasions. Mara had never been able to explain it, but the more she was around him, the more she simply liked him.
There were, or course, particular memories which Mara always called to mind whenever she was thinking along these lines. And as residual traces of the drugs she had been given continued to cloud her senses, to encourage her mind to wander, almost by reflex these memories came to her now.
In her mind's eye, Mara could see Luke, lying asleep on the forest floor of Wayland. She had just been conversing with one of the Noghri bodyguards. That conversation had brought her to a startling realization -- that Skywalker was actually Darth Vader's son. For seemingly inexplicable reasons, she could not help thinking of him a little differently after that. She thought about all the expectations everyone had of him, the last of the Jedi Knights. Yet he had confided in her his fears and uncertainties about becoming a Jedi teacher. She thought about what he had been through, all the suffering and loss that had brought him to where he was. And how despite all that, he continued to take the risk of offering himself to others; even as he was beginning to offer friendship to her.
The images flashed in her mind again, to another night. It was during the time she still worked as a liaison between the New Republic and Karrde's Smuggler Coalition. Her and Luke's paths had briefly crossed earlier in the day, quite by accident. Noticing his slight despondency, she had convinced herself to go and talk with him later that evening. She found him, alone, on the Imperial Palace roof. There he confessed the reason for his mood -- it was the anniversary of Anakin's death.
Luke had talked a great deal that night, while Mara simply listened, and a new feeling of respect and admiration began to stir within her. And there was something else, something she did not want to admit. Luke had noted her pensive stare and asked what she was thinking. In a daring impulse, she had spoken from her heart.
"What kind of man discovers that his father is his most vile enemy, but rather than seek to destroy that monster, simply loves him and then risks all to reclaim him?"
Even now, through her clouded delirium, Mara could see his sincere expression, could feel how his eyes pierced almost through to her soul.
"I suppose the same kind of man who meets the woman who most wants to kill him and chooses her to be one of his dearest friends," he had replied. Then, sensing the sudden tension of the moment, Luke managed a smile and steered the conversation away with a slight shrug. "But at least Vader called me by my first name."
The recollection of this long-standing joke between them brought yet another memory to Mara's mind. She had been working on repairs of her ship when Luke happened by and offered help. Mara gratefully accepted, but she soon found herself in a jocular mood. She began to order him around and give him a rough time in general. Although Mara could see her good-natured sparring was getting to him, she continued. At one point, she voiced one of her orders with an impatient "and get it in gear, Skywalker." It proved to be the breaking point.
Upon hearing the unmistakable clang of a heavy tool being thrown to the ground, Mara's head emerged from the pit of her gutted engine. There he stood, the tool at his feet, fists clenched at his side, nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling with the distinct breathing of a controlled anger, and an uncharacteristic glare coming from narrow, blue eyes. When he spoke, his tone was low and definitely measured.
"Blast it Mara, I do have a first name, you know."
Mara stared at him, a bit dumfounded. <Where did that come from> she wondered. Worried that her jibes had genuinely upset him, she tentatively brushed his sense with the Force. Luke was incensed, but surprisingly not for the reason Mara suspected. Instead, he was more irritated with himself for allowing someone to get to him, and not a little disturbed in knowing who was the cause of his being so riled. Mara suddenly found Luke's thoughts mirroring her own: why was she seemingly the only person who ever affected him this way? She did not feel any more comfortable than he did with that particular line of questioning. Mara pulled away, thankful that Luke, for whatever reason, had not sensed her probe.
Simultaneously sensing how awkward the atmosphere had become, Luke and Mara nevertheless continued to stare at one another in silence. Finally it was Mara who managed a reply.
"Anyone ever tell you how adorable you are when you're mad?" Mara never knew what possessed her to say such at thing at that moment, but it proved to be just what was needed. Luke smiled as the mood returned to some semblance of normal, and Mara ducked back inside her ship, barely missing the grease stained towel that was lofted at her head.
Even in her current imprisoned state, Mara managed a feeble smile at the fond memory. Suddenly, a loud noise from the far side of her cell interrupted any further reminiscing. Struggling to focus her perception back on the present, Mara blinked as a dim light brightened along one, thin line. Her cell door had just been opened.
Chicago, Illinois 5:12 p.m.
The investigative team spent the remainder of the afternoon questioning various persons at other local and university libraries where break-ins had occurred. As evening approached, there was only one library remaining that they had not visited. And as Agent Mulder had expected, all responses thus far verified what the police reports had said. The mysterious man supposedly responsible for the break-ins had been seen, at least briefly, by several people. But no one else reported observations of any strange humming sounds or odd blue lights as Joy Lewis had done. Mulder did not really anticipate the next stop producing any different results.
The strain that had developed earlier between Ray and the two agents was beginning to ease, primarily because Ray had chosen to more or less sulk along and keep his mouth shut. On the other hand, Fraser and Mulder were beginning to develop a unique sense of camaraderie. It was becoming apparent that, at least in some respects, these two men thought very much alike, often coming to similar conclusions at the same time. They were still quite distinctive in their manner of presenting such conclusions, however. It was true that both often went into elaborate detail about things, almost, it sometimes seemed, to the point of absurdity. But Mulder always did so in his low, half-spoken, half-mumbled monotone while Fraser never spoke in anything but a precise voice complete with flourishes of both tone and physical motion. As for Scully, she was content to let the ‘boys', as she now personally referred to them, have their fun. She had also learned that Fraser's wolf, Diefenbaker, who had refused to remain in the car after their first stop at The Library of International Relations, had grown rather fond of her.
"And just where do you think you're going?" Fraser directed to his canine companion.
Diefenbaker, who had squatted with as much determination as any wolf could beside the passenger door of the agents' rental car, replied with a most matter of fact woof.
"That is entirely out of the question," Fraser responded in kind. "You have already harassed Agent Scully beyond all point of common courtesy, much less decency, even to the extreme of attempting to sit in her lap on two separate occasions. You certainly are not going to be allowed to ride with her in their car."
This resulted in a plaintive whine as Dief sunk on his belly, head hung pitifully between two front paws.
"And don't try to take that attitude with me, because you know it won't do any good. You're not doing anything but embarrassing yourself."
Scully knelt by the animal and gave him a comforting rub between the ears. The fondness, it appeared, was mutual. "That's alright, Fraser. Dief is welcome to ride with us."
"He is?" Mulder asked in a tone which left no doubt about his own feelings on the matter. "Nothing against your wolf, Benton, I like him just fine. I'm just not overly fond of having canines for travel companions."
Another mournful whine echoed forth.
"Diefenbaker, you're making a scene," the Mountie said with some annoyance.
"Listen people," Ray interrupted. "This is not the sort of thing that calls for a papal decision you know. If the wolf just has to be with Agent Scully then they can ride in the Riv with me and Fraser can ride with Mulder." Without waiting for disagreement or consent, Ray got into his car and closed the door.
A few questioning glances were exchanged. Mulder and Fraser both shrugged. Scully considered, sighed, and then with a nod to her new friend, headed for the Buick.
Once inside the car, Dief positioned himself behind Scully, his head firmly on the back of her seat, his muzzle resting mere inches from her face. "Are you sure this is okay?" Scully asked.
"Trust me," Ray replied with a slightly spurious smile. "This is just peachy." Then to the wolf he added, "just do not drool on the upholstery, or you're outta here."
The drive was conducted in silence. Though no longer tense, it was far from comfortable. Ray drove in a state of something akin to autopilot while his thoughts plagued him. He had not exactly gotten off on the right foot with these agents and for some reason that was bothering him. When they had made their stop at The Library of International Relations, his sense of pride had still been bleeding slightly. That, compounded with the crazy story of Joy Lewis, had been enough to flare his Italian temper. He was not even sure why he had spoken the way he had in the elevator. Perhaps it was just to see if he could push their buttons, as he had always tried to do with other FBI agents. But these two were so unlike the goons he had been forced to work with before. In the short time they'd been working together this afternoon, he had realized that these agents respected his value as an actual part of the investigative team, although he had actually gone out of his way not to get much involved. They were professional and, at least it appeared thus far, competent. And from what he could follow of Mulder's thinking, he realized that Scully was right. Mulder's ideas and methods did take a more eccentric path than most, but they were well thought out and analyzed. Ray concluded that this case could actually prove to be something interesting if he was willing to do his part.
"Agent Scully?" Ray began after traveling several blocks.
"Yes?"
Ray risked a sideways glance. The agent was looking at him but her expression was unreadable. Might as well plunge ahead, he thought. "I want to apologize for my behavior earlier today. I should not have said those things about you and Agent Mulder, back in the elevator. It's just that " he paused. Her expression was still blank "Never mind the excuses. It was unprofessional and just plain rude. I'm sorry."
Scully turned to look out the front window, but not before Ray caught the hint of a smile that had tugged at one corner of her mouth. "Apology accepted, Detective."
It was quiet again and Ray debated over what to say next. It was not apologies that gave him trouble, it was this awkward period that always came immediately afterwards. He simply hated it.
Scully saved him the trouble of dealing with the dilemma, asking suddenly, "So Detective Vecchio, what are your feelings about the case so far?"
"Well, I have to admit that I don't always see where Mulder is going with his questions. But Fraser seems to, and for now that's good enough for me. And I won't pretend to understand why relatively minor crimes are of such importance to someone from the FBI. I mean, all the information that's been taken from the libraries is stuff that's free to the public in the first place. Why hasn't this guy just come along and researched the information like anyone off the street would do? Why bother to break in and steal it at all?"
"I'm not sure about that myself," Scully admitted. "As to why this case is important to the FBI, it's more a matter of why this case is important to Agent Mulder."
"He believes there's some sort of paranormal involvement," Ray finished for her.
"Yes."
After a pause, Ray asked her pointedly, "what do you think?" He noticed the agent seemed to shift slightly in her seat, and he caught the sound of a resigned sigh.
"I've seen a lot of things in my experience working with Mulder. I've not always been able to find a fully satisfactory, logical explanation for some of those things. But that doesn't mean he and I see things from the same perspective. We often come to the same conclusions, but I still choose to believe there's a rational explanation behind those conclusions. Mulder's purposes for choosing this case are his own, but I've also learned to trust his instincts. And the farther we move along here the more I get the feeling there's more behind this occurrence of simple library break-ins than is immediately obvious. I don't know what it is yet, but the answer is there. And I believe we'll find it."
Ray could not help but chuckle slightly.
"What's so amusing, Detective?"
"Do you always provide such elaborate, drawn out answers?"
"Well, actually, I suppose I do tend toward that method," Scully acknowledged with a modest smile. "But sometimes I just tell Mulder he's crazy and leave it at that."
"If it's any consolation, I know what you mean," Ray sympathized. "Benny can be quite the character sometimes."
"So I gathered."
"Don't get me wrong, though. Fraser is without a doubt the best guy I've ever known. And he's certainly the best friend I've ever known. Despite his peculiarities, I wouldn't trade him for the world."
Scully glanced out the rear window to where her partner and the Mountie were following in the rental car behind, and smiled. "I know exactly what you mean, Detective."
"Hey, listen," Ray began affably. "You can drop the ‘Detective Vecchio' stuff. It's just Ray."
Scully replied with a warm, friendly smile, but further conversation was halted when the police radio suddenly crackled to life.
"Sounds like the beginnings of a reasonable theory to me," Fraser said after having heard the agent's ideas. "But I get the impression Agent Scully may not be so quick to agree."
Mulder smiled. "You pegged that one my friend. But, that's part of what makes her such an invaluable partner. She keeps me balanced and keeps me on my toes at the same time. I imagine you know what I'm talking about."
"Ray?" the Mountie inquired. "Yes, I understand what you mean."
"If you don't mind my asking, how did you two end up working-- what is he doing?"
Ahead of them the green Buick had just pulled a sudden U-turn in the middle of the street, amidst a loud cacophony of screeching tires, honking horns, and a few audible curses. Mulder worked the wheel of the rental car to quickly follow, gathering their own share of colorful complaints from people on the street. As he pulled behind the Riviera again, Mulder noticed a flashing police light was now emanating from the dash of the detective's car. The two cars continued racing down the Chicago streets at dangerous speeds. Mulder maintained close pursuit, not daring to loose sight of the Buick.
"Do you know where he's headed?" Mulder asked.
Fraser did a quick survey of the scenery as it flashed past. "It looks as if we're coming into the Hyde Park area, which if I'm not mistaken is near the University of Chicago."
Mulder nodded as some of the landscape became recognizable to him as well. They'd been at the University of Chicago earlier that afternoon, questioning the library staff. After several more turns, and a couple of close calls, the pair of automobiles came to an abrupt halt in a nearly empty parking lot. Fraser and Mulder vaulted from their car, running after Ray, Scully, and Dief who were already half-way up the stairs.
"What's going on?" Mulder asked when he had caught up with his partner.
"We got a call over the radio," Scully explained as they entered the building. "A sighting of someone who fits the description of our suspect. Although he's already targeted this library before, he returned, and one of the librarians recognized him."
Mulder took that in, and realized that a mere sighting of the suspect would not have been reason enough for the wild chase they had just finished. "He's still here?" the agent asked excitedly.
"Yeah," Ray picked up the explanation as they all piled into the elevator. "Campus security has him. Apparently he was unconscious for a bit."
Upon arrival they discovered why. When the librarian had recognized the man as the suspect, she had called campus security. Before security could arrive, the librarian had also called upon the assistance of a student who happened to be in the library at the time. The student just also happened to be one of the larger members of the University of Chicago football team. They found the suspect, conscious now but quite subdued, the mammoth football player still holding the man's arms tight behind his back. One look was proof enough the man did indeed fit the description of their suspect. His features of close-cut hair and large, dark eyes were identical to that of the police composite drawing. And he also wore the oddly tailored gray uniform, complete with black knee boots, that Joy Lewis and other eyewitnesses had described. Detective Vecchio read the man his rights, arrested him, and they all headed to the police station.
The foursome that had gathered in the center room of the Solo's living quarters were not newcomers to the activity in which they now found themselves engaged. Their years together had seen more battles, exploits, dangerous missions, and what some might even consider adventure, than any of them cared to admit. And while each could not deny the stirrings of that hidden craving for the excitement of such activities, each was also well aware of the stirrings of apprehension. They were family, and had been through entirely too much together not to feel some sense of worry over such matters. And it was in this spirit that they had worked out their plan.
"You don't have to like it," Han said firmly in response to Chewbacca's rather ardent comment of disapproval. "You just have to do it. Luke's already said he doesn't know exactly where this Force doorway will open up, and since we don't know what we'll be walking into, we can't take you along."
The Wookie loudly voiced his opinion that the fact they did not know what they were walking into was precisely the reason he wanted to go along.
"Chewie," Luke interjected calmly. "The best thing Han and I can do once we get through the doorway is keep a low profile. Not knowing where we're going, it's possible that a Wookie would attract unwanted attention. We know Soren's human, so it's fairly safe to assume humans won't appear out of place. I know you want to be there, to help protect us, but you have to trust me on this one. It's best if you stay behind."
Luke understood the Wookie's sense of honor to his life-debt family, and the feeling that he was letting them down. The Jedi met the expressive blue eyes of his friend and sought to offer some sense of assurance that things would be okay. Finally Chewbacca gave a mournful grunt of acceptance.
Then Luke turned to his sister. "You haven't said very much about any of this."
Leia looked to the two men she loved dearly, unsuccessfully hiding the turmoil of emotions that displayed themselves in deep pools of brown. "What's to say? I don't want you to go, but I know you have to do this."
So you'll stick out your chin in that proud way you do and bear up under it, as you've always done, Luke thought silently. Not silently enough, he realized, when he saw Leia smile and defiantly raise her chin.
"You know we'll look out for each other, Sweetheart," Han said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"You'd better, you scruffy-looking nerf-herder, or you'll both have to answer to me when you get back," she lovingly teased.
"Speaking of when we get back, I'm not entirely certain when that will be," Luke admitted. "For one thing, I'm not sure how quickly we'll be able to find out any information. And secondly, opening this doorway is going to take an immense amount of energy. I'm sure I'll need some time to recoup my strength before I can open it again, from the other side."
No one had to voice the possibility that Luke might not be able to open it again from the other side, or that regardless of how long they were gone neither Leia nor anyone else would have any way of contacting them.
"Have you decided where you're going to try and open the doorway?" Han asked.
Luke nodded. "My meditation chamber. That's a place where I know I can feel comfortable and focused."
"And will you come back to the same location?" Leia asked. "If I can't know when you're coming I'd at least like to know where to be watching for you."
"I don't know," Luke replied honestly.
An uncomfortable stillness settled for a moment.
"When are you leaving?" Leia asked finally.
"I want to take some time to rest and meditate, but I should be ready by midday," Luke answered. When no one said anything more, he stood. He gave his sister an affectionate embrace and noticed she clung to him a little tighter than usual. They said nothing upon parting, not wanting to voice their good-byes just yet. Luke left to return to his own quarters, and his thoughts of what lay ahead.
Chicago, Illinois 27th District Police Station 12:28 a.m.
"This is ridiculous," Ray declared, fatigue evident in his voice.
He was leaning against the back wall of the small room adjacent to the interrogation room, watching Mulder and the man they had arrested through the two-way mirror. It had been over six hours since the arrest, and they had questioned the suspect using every technique known among the four of them, including a few methods they had improvised on the spot. They had questioned him in alternating pairs, individually, and even with all four of them in the room at the same time. They had played every role, every routine, and neither Ray's ‘bad cop' attitude, Fraser's meticulous observation, Scully's imperturbable demeanor, nor Mulder's esoteric mind games had brought any results. The man had not even spoken so much as his name.
Ray banged his head lightly against the wall. "How much longer can this guy hold out?"
"Mulder or the suspect?" Scully responded. She too was watching the scene on the other side of the mirror, and at present it appeared as if Mulder and the man were locked in the midst of some school yard version of a staring contest. After a few more seconds Mulder stood, his chair nearly toppling over with the suddenness of the move. Scully immediately picked up on all the nonverbal cues that tense, lanky body was giving off as her partner walked out the door. She turned away from the mirror and gave a warning look toward the detective. "I don't think that did anything to help Mulder's mood."
As if on cue, the FBI agent burst through the door. "This is so absolutely pointless, it's asinine!"
Dana stood, arms crossed casually across her chest, projecting an image of calm, cool, and collected, despite the fact that she felt like she was ready to drop. "I think maybe we all need to take a rest. We've been in the process of questioning the suspect, nonstop, for over six hours now and it's not having any evident effect, at least not on the suspect. But we've got him, and he's not going anywhere. I suggest we give him a few hours of isolation in a nice private cell and then go at it again in the morning."
The suggestion was perfectly logical, but Dana had personal as well as professional reasons for voicing it. She had not taken a break ever since Mulder had informed her about the case this morning. Upon arrival in Chicago they had barely paused long enough to check into the hotel and drop off their luggage. Scully was tired and hungry. She also knew the best thing to do for her partner right now was get him out of this police station for a while. "Besides, I don't know about you guys but I'm starving."
"I'm not hungry," Mulder mumbled from the corner where he had just recently sunk into a sitting position. His chin was resting on the tops of his pulled up knees. He was obviously sulking.
Scully raised an eyebrow at him. Yes, she thought to herself, definitely time to get him away from here.
"Oh come on, G-Man," Ray said encouragingly. "I know this wonderful little Italian restaurant and they are, fortunately, open way past midnight. Trust me on this one, you and Little Red will love it."
Scully did not miss Mulder's glaring scowl, but she smiled in spite of herself. The nicknames that had once been used derogatorily were now used as Ray's way of showing friendship and acceptance. Scully also knew that Mulder had forgiven Ray the little outburst earlier in the day, he just was not feeling particularly cooperative at the moment. But two could play that game. "We're not going without you, Mulder," she said adamantly.
Before Mulder could reply the door opened and Fraser stepped inside.
"Hey Benny, we were just making dinner plans," Ray said.
"Sounds wonderful. Where were you thinking..." Fraser's unfinished question grew slower and slower with each word until finally dying off altogether. Unlike the others, he was standing facing the mirror and thus was the only one who saw the man sitting on the other side slowly lean forward and then fall out of his chair into a slumped heap on the floor. The Mountie was moving toward the interrogation room in an instant, his companions close behind.
Scully squatted beside the fallen body. Expert fingers found the precise spot along the man's neck and noted the absence of any rhythmic beating. She turned a stunned face up toward her partner and new found friends. "He's dead."
Chicago Morgue Later that morning
A preliminary examination of the body gave a fair indication regarding the cause of death. Scully had located a minuscule puncture mark along the man's neck. A small, thin piece of what appeared to be some type of needle had been found still clutched in the dead suspect's hand. And Fraser had noticed the one spot along the left cuff of the suspect's uniform that had been deliberately unraveled, apparently from where the suspect had retrieved the hidden needle. Blood samples were collected and sent to the lab, and Scully arranged for time at the local morgue to conduct an autopsy. With nothing else to do, she had finally convinced Mulder to call it a night and they had retreated to their hotel sometime after two o'clock.
Mulder had little success attempting to get some rest, and soon after dawn had returned to the library at the University of Chicago to search the area where their suspect had been arrested. What he hoped to find Scully did not dare imagine. But she knew this was one of his specialties; combing an area after all others had finished and finding seemingly insignificant, obscure clues, then putting them together into whatever fantastic puzzle he was building. After his visit at the University of Chicago library, Mulder was to meet up with Ray and Benton to visit the last two libraries on their list.
On the other hand, Scully had slept soundly for a few hours, and felt quite refreshed when she began the part that was one of her specialties of their investigative teamwork. She was just finishing the initial findings of the autopsy as noon rolled around. The fact that it was nearing lunch did little to phase Scully, as the autopsy was proving so interesting. But the sound of the door opening did manage to pull her attention from the specimen on the table before her. Not too surprisingly, it was Mulder, the Detective and Mountie in tow.
"Find anything of consequence?" Scully asked, although the expression on her partner's face was evidence enough of the answer.
Mulder shook his head. "How about you?"
"Well, I've made some discoveries, but--" she broke off, uncertain just how to classify what she had found.
Mulder met her eyes. "What?"
"I received the lab report and our theory of the cause of death proved correct. This man did puncture himself in the neck with the object he had hidden in his cuff. The substance was an immediate acting poison. He was dead pretty much the moment it hit his blood stream."
"If the conclusion of your examination is that straight-forward, then why are you wearing that look?" Mulder asked.
Scully was not certain which specific ‘look' he meant, but she guiltily lowered her eyes a fraction. She had a few explanations about some of what she had found, but not everything. And already she had a strong suspicion that it was all going to fit into whatever absurd theory her partner had by now formulated.
"Would you two like to explain to the rest of us what's going on?" Ray spoke up.
Scully met the three expectant stares and took a deep breath. "The lab was able to analyze the substance and to determine it was extremely poisonous, although the exact chemical composition was unfamiliar, and one of the chemical compounds was totally unknown." Scully paused, watching their faces as they began to take that in. She could practically see the lightbulb go off in Mulder's head. And she knew that bulb was about to get a lot brighter.
"That's not all. I received the report on the copy of the man's fingerprints we sent to DC, and not only are his prints not on record, they fail to match, in several ways, any typical print file on record. Also, the suspect's blood composition is abnormal, and it does not match any known blood type. His body temperature has remained an average of four degrees below what it should be. Everything else about the man appears to be healthy and normal except for the fact that several of his organs appear to be abnormal in size, two of his organs were in the wrong place entirely, and I located a completely unknown organ in the upper right side of his chest cavity."
"An unknown organ?" Fraser asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
Scully noted Mulder's enthusiastic gaze. "If I had to speculate, based on my observations thus far," she hesitated. Mulder was practically beaming. "I'd say that the organ most closely resembles a human heart."
Mulder, no longer able to contain his excitement, broke into a broad grin. "Am I hearing you correctly, Scully? Two hearts? Does this mean we should start looking for a TARDIS?"
Scully merely glared in response. The bombshell was coming. She just knew it.
Mulder dropped it. "So in your medical opinion, would you say that this man is, in fact, not entirely human?"
"No, I would not say that," she replied honestly.
Mulder paused, reevaluating his approach. "Okay, would you say this man is humanoid, but not specifically human?"
This time Dana's gaze faltered slightly. She never could lie to her partner. "Yes. I would say that."
"Excuse me, but I still don't understand what you guys are talking about," Ray spoke up again.
"What do you say we get some lunch," Mulder suggested suddenly. "You're about finished here, aren't you Scully?"
The female agent sighed. This was it. Mulder was finally ready to share his theory. "Give me a few minutes to clean up and we can go."
I'm the only one who thinks this is totally ludicrous, Dana thought to herself as they sat over lunch. Mulder had indeed shared his theory with them. Not to her surprise, Fraser believed and supported it wholeheartedly. But even Ray, after hearing Mulder explain it in detail, had admitted it was believable. As usual, she was proving the skeptical doubter.
Scully went over it in her mind one more time. Mulder had concluded that their suspect was actually someone from a different plane of either time, or space, or both. While the man's outward appearance was convincingly human, his unique internal differences indicated a possibility that the man was either slightly alien or someone from a future species, farther along the evolutionary ladder than contemporary humans. For reasons that Mulder had not fully determined yet, the suspect had traveled to this place and time to collect information -- information about our culture, our laws, our history. The means of this travel, Mulder had surmised, was the explanation of the mysterious blue light. It was a doorway. Some type of portal which opened, by what means Mulder did not know, and allowed beings to travel across time and/or space.
"You have a more logical theory?" Mulder asked after Scully had been quiet for some time.
Dana just looked at him. More logical theory? She nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. There was not anything logical about someone stealing information and resource materials from a library and then killing himself when apprehended in the first place. The most likely answer at this point was probably that the criminal had been psychotic, delusional, or just plain crazy. As far as she could see petty crimes had been committed, but no serious damage had been done, and now the culprit was dead. The case was over. But that, obviously, was no longer the point. "You have no evidence," she finally replied. "Where do you possibly hope to go from here?"
Mulder smiled. It was not a reassuring sign. "I don't think he was working alone."
"You mean Mr. Humanoid back at the morgue?" Ray asked. "What makes you think so?"
"Remember from Joy Lewis' account, she noticed that the man looked at something, like a watch, just before the blue light appeared. And although no one else has described anything like our man disappearing through colored lights, a couple of the ones who'd seen him did make mention that he was constantly checking his watch."
Scully tried not to think about the fact that the ‘watch' was another factor in Mulder's ideas. The man had been wearing a watch when they had arrested him. But when they had inspected it, it clearly was not a watch like she had ever seen. It looked more like a mini computer interface of some kind. Obviously alien or future technology, Mulder had said.
Fraser, having picked up on Mulder's line of thought, was finishing the explanation. "So the doorway was only to open at certain, specified times. If the criminal was so concerned about not missing that time, then he was not the one capable of opening the doorway. Meaning that someone, or something, was opening it from the other side."
"And was expecting our man to arrive back on the other side of that doorway at those times," Mulder continued.
"And that someone is gonna know something's gone wrong when his partner didn't show up," Ray added, happy to be following the bizarre plot line again.
"Exactly," Mulder said. "And that someone may come looking."
Which means we're stuck in Chicago waiting for who knows what for who knows how long, Scully thought to herself. She racked her brain. There were no other pressing assignments, no unwritten reports, nothing she could think of that required their presence back in Washington. And Skinner knew where they were. If something important came up, he knew where to reach them. Scully sighed, and resigned herself to what lay ahead. She tried to satisfy herself with the knowledge that at least she could do further study of the body back at the morgue. "Two days. That's all I'm giving you, Mulder. Then I'm taking a flight back to Washington."
The excited gleam in Mulder's eyes dimmed slightly, and Scully knew that she had hurt him. She was tempted to remind him that a couple years ago she would not have given him two minutes, let alone two days, but she did not say anything. Then she realized she did not have to. The brief cloud of disappointment lifted from her partner and he smiled, accepting her terms.
"The first thing I want to do is go back to the library and do some research of my own," Mulder said. "Anyone who wants to come along is welcome."
"We'll be glad to help," Fraser responded and Ray nodded his agreement.
With even Ray looking so interested, Scully found some comfort in knowing that ‘the boys' just might be able to handle this one on their own. With Ray and Benton there to encourage him, Mulder would not miss her assistance quite so much. "If it's alright, Mulder, I'd like to go back to the morgue. I want to do some further study on our deceased friend."
"Good idea," Mulder replied. "About the library research, I can explain what I'm looking for once we get there. But first I need to go back to the hotel room and get some of the files I have there. It won't take but a few minutes."
"We'll follow you there," Ray said. "You can leave the rental car with Little Red and we'll all go on to the library in the Riv."