Chapter 1
"I've Seen Her Before…"
The bugs were coming. Scully watched in horror as the green mites began swarming into the jeep through the air vents, clogging eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. All-consuming animal panic overcame her and she flailed about, desperately trying to ward them off. She was peripherally aware of the others also scrabbling at their faces, trying to deny the inevitable. As the webs of the deathly cocoons began obscuring her vision, a deadly weakness came over Scully as she felt the life slowly drain from her body. Her head lolled, and with her fading eyesight, she searched the sky for some sign of daylight. Before lapsing into unconsciousness, Scully thought she saw a bright light appear from out of the woods, and a tall figure walking towards them, cradling the globe of light in her hands, long black hair whipping in the night wind and eyes that glowed icy blue. She brought the light closer, the glowing mites turning sluggish and ceasing their feast…
- X -
Scully jerked awake at the sound of her phone ringing at her bedside. Heart pounding with the aftereffects of the nightmare and the shock of waking up so suddenly, Scully picked up the phone.
"Hello?" she asked, hearing her voice shake.
"Scully? Are you okay?"
She smiled slightly at the reassuringly familiar voice. "Yes, Mulder, I'm fine. Just bad dreams."
"Yeah, I've had a few of those myself," her partner Agent Mulder replied. "Feeling any better?"
"Yes, a lot better," Scully said, sliding her feet into a pair of slippers. "I won't be winning any marathons, but I think I've recovered enough to handle a hike or two."
"Good. Since we've both got some leave coming up, how about a little trip?"
Immediately Scully's suspicion meter started blaring alarms. "Mulder," she said warningly, "you sound strangely pleased with yourself. What are you up to?"
Mulder's voice was a picture of innocence; she could almost see the mock surprised look on his face and the boyish twinkle in his hazel eyes. "Me, up to something? Don't be silly. Be at my place by ten." There was a click and Scully was left holding a silent line.
She stood, wrapping a robe around herself and headed to the kitchen to make some coffee. "Mulder," she muttered as she turned the facet on, "what kind of scheme do you have up your sleeve this time?"
- X -
"Is this what you meant by taking a trip?" Scully asked skeptically, surveying the small building that was the headquarters of The Lone Gunman, a magazine dedicated to uncovering government conspiracies and run by three of the most paranoid people she had ever met.
Mulder grinned what Scully called "the little-boy grin" and guided her towards the door. "Yeah, I know this isn't the most exotic locale," he said, "but trust me, this could be where we get our ticket."
"A ticket to where?" Scully asked as Mulder knocked on the door.
"You'll see," Mulder replied. He paused a moment. "Actually, I'm not sure where. Langly called me, which never happens, I might add, too afraid it might be traced, and told me I should come over. So, here we are."
Still skeptical, but keeping her silence, Scully stepped into the room. It was the same as she remembered the last time they had visited hoping to find information about experimental aircraft relating to Gulf War Syndrome. Pictures and news clippings of anything and everything that could be construed as possible evidence of a massive government conspiracy plastered the walls. Gadgetry and recording devices were heaped in corners or on tables and every square inch of any flat surfaces was buried in paper. It reminded Scully a little bit of Mulder's basement office at FBI headquarters…only multiplied by three.
"So guys, why the sudden urge to chat?" Mulder asked, settling down on one of the chairs that had not succumbed to the scrap pile. He sounded calm and relaxed, but Scully had been working with Mulder for over a year and she could see the wariness lurking beneath the genial tone and mild gaze.
Langly, his long blond hair as scraggly and unkempt as ever, leaned on the table behind him, an unusually serious, even concerned, look on his face. "Well, Mulder," he began, "we've gotten some info and we're not quite sure what to make of it."
"Information?" Mulder asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
"Well…not information exactly…" Langly trailed off, shaking his head. He took a breath, apparently trying to organize his thoughts. "For the past couple of years we've gotten some really good stuff from this one particular source. She called herself 'Cassandra'."
"Cassandra?" Scully repeated with a frown as she searched her memory.
"It's the name of a woman from Greek mythology," Mulder explained. "She was the daughter of the king of Troy when the Greeks came to attack. The stories say she had the power to see the future, but the gods had also cursed her with the fate of never being believed. She predicted the fall of Troy and warned the Trojans, but they didn't listen to her until it was too late."
Langly nodded, settling his thick glasses more firmly on his face. "That's right. At first it was just paper documents, photos, occasionally voice tape recordings. We checked into where they had been sent from and all of them came from different post offices. The only common factor is that they were signed 'Cassandra'. I'm not even sure how she found out exactly where we were. I mean we're always really careful about who we send our magazine to, and even then we take precautions Then we started getting phone calls with more intel, and man, this lady sure does know her stuff! Everything she's sent us has been genuine, but she's never asked for anything in return."
"Sounds a little too neat," Scully said dryly.
"That's what we thought at first," said Byers, looking smart but agitated in his pressed suit as he paced back and forth, "but again, everything checked out, we never got any knock on the door from the police, and never once has Cassandra asked for information in return. Not once. She seems genuinely interested in our ideas and even gave a few good suggestions."
"Have you ever actually met this person?" Mulder asked. "I mean, a recorded phone conversation is all well and good, but she could be a plant to shut you down."
"That's when the weirdness begins," said Langly, moving over to the TV, a tape in his hand. "We were experimenting with a surveillance camera about two months ago when Cassandra showed up on our doorstep. Literally."
Scully couldn't keep the look of skeptical surprise off her face. "This mystery woman who went through so much trouble to keep her identity and location a secret just happened to walk in and you videotaped her?"
"Hey, even the pros mess up sometimes," said Mulder. "Can we see the tape?"
"Yeah," said Frohike from his seat behind the desk, "but after you see it, we're destroying it. This lady has done far too much for us to just leave evidence like this lying around."
Mulder nodded. "Fair enough."
Byers pulled the curtains shut, shrouding the room in semi-darkness. Scully tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder as her mind involuntarily flashed back to that night facing death in the woods of Washington State. Perceptive as always, Mulder patted her arm reassuringly and Scully nodded her thanks.
The TV lit up with the sight of the interior of the same room. The angle of the camera indicated that it was mounted up on the far wall so it looked down towards the door. Frohike's hands and bespectacled, stubble-covered face obscured most of the view and the two agents could hear the trio squabbling.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a sharp knock and there was a bit of confusion on the screen. The hands disappeared and the trio gathered near the door.
"Who is it?" Byers on the tape asked.
The audio on the camera was surprisingly good because both Mulder and Scully heard the reply through the door. "It's Cassandra. I have some information that you should know about, or that you should get to someone who can act on it."
The three men looked at one another. "How can we know you are who you say you are?" asked Byers.
"I have proof of my identification," replied the voice. "Now, will you please let me in? The longer I stand here, the greater my chances of detection."
There was another pause, and then Byers opened the door, letting in their unexpected visitor and closing it quickly behind her. On the tape, the ever-licentious Frohike let out a low wolf-whistle.
Mulder peered closely at the image. It appeared to be a woman in her mid-thirties, around his own age in fact. She pushed back the hood of her long raincoat revealing a very pale, but rather attractive face with high cheekbones, mobile mouth, and flashing blue eyes that seemed to absorb the details of everything around her at once. Long inky black hair tumbled down her shoulders, although the exact length could not be determined because it was tucked under her coat. Elegantly gloved hands brushed a few strands back from her face before she clasped them in front of her. The expression on her face was calm, unconcerned, and yet with a subtle wariness.
Beside him, Scully drew in a quick breath. "What is it?" asked Mulder.
"I've seen her before," Scully whispered, not taking her eyes off the woman's image. "I know I've seen her before…but where?"
Puzzled, but unwilling to miss anything on the tape, Mulder turned his attention back to the images, making a mental note to ask Scully about it afterwards.
The woman inclined her head slightly. "I'm sorry for coming here unannounced," she said, her voice soft and deeply melodious, "but I have come across some interesting intelligence and had to see that it arrived here without incident."
"First, prove that you're Cassandra," Langly challenged.
Once more, the woman inclined her head. "You are wary; that is good." She then swiftly rattled off some facts about the information that has been sent to them through the mail, the times and content of calls, and some other tidbits that only a sender of the information would have known. She also signed a slip of paper that Byers handed to her, and from the men's reactions, the signature must have matched the ones on the packages that had been sent to them.
"I know that is not enough to fully convince you," she said, "but that is all I can offer now. And as…collateral, I also offer you my real name: Tara Sternberg."
"Well, Miss Sternberg, since we're all on even footing, what is this information you say is so important?" Byers asked, straightening his jacket and looking just slightly more relaxed.
Tara hesitated a moment, then looked at them with calm, steady eyes. "Another alien ship has crashed in the wilds of Montana. The Army is moving quickly to retrieve the remains, and I believe that at least one of the occupants survived the crash."
The two FBI agents stared in disbelief. An alien ship? Could she mean…
"Are you trying to tell us that there's a UFO that landed in Montana?" asked Frohike.
Tara nodded.
The trio burst out laughing. "This is what you came all the way here for?" gasped Langly.
Blue eyes flashing with suppressed anger, Tara pulled a small envelop from beneath her coat and tossed it on the table. "Photographs," she bit out sharply, "of the craft after the crash. Is there anyone you know who can be trusted to take care of this matter?"
"No offense, Miss Sternberg, but you're going to need more than a few fuzzy pictures," said Langly through his laughter.
"Man, you sound like Mulder with all this talk of aliens and crashed ships…" added Byers.
The woman twitched, eyes widening. A sort of slow, deadly stillness overcame her, like frost creeping over the ground, and the sudden change in attitude was strong enough to make the three men abruptly stop laughing. "Mulder?" she asked softly. "Fox Mulder?"
"Yeah." said Byers, suddenly suspicious. "Why, you met him?"
Tara's eyes were shadowed and she seemed to be looking far away. "No," she said quietly. "No, we have never met before." The woman looked up, her eyes made more intense by the paleness of her face. "Tell me, does he deal with incidents of this nature?"
"Mulder gets himself into all sorts of crazy shit," Langly replied.
"Is he in Washington?"
"No, he and his partner Scully are out on the west coast working on a case."
"Scully, Scully…red haired woman with a golden cross?"
"Yeah…how do you know that? Have you met her?"
Tara smiled slightly. "In a manner of speaking, but Lady Fire-Sprite wasn't in any condition to talk. Do you know when they will return?"
Langly scratched his head. "Probably won't be back for a couple of weeks."
She seemed to shrink in on herself. "It will be too late for him to act by then…" she murmured. There was a pause as Tara's eyes seemed to turn inward, searching for the right course of action. After a moment she looked up, black hair swirling, and pulled a card out of her pocket. "When they return, please, give Agent Mulder this, and tell him that if he ever needs any information regarding...unexplained phenomenon, come visit me. I'll see what I can do to help him, but don't show anyone but him that card."
Byers took the card and looked at it suspiciously. "Why are you so interested in Mulder?"
Tara's mouth tightened into a grim line. "Let's just say we share a common interest in the occult and the possibility of extra terrestrial life."
Byers tried again. "But that still doesn't explain—"
The woman abruptly jerked her hand, motioning for silence. Her whole body was tensed and she looked upward. "Don't move," she warned. "Don't make a sound."
Nervous and confused, the three members of The Lone Gunman obeyed. Tara remained frozen, looking intently at the ceiling as if expecting someone to come crashing through. Her blue eyes narrowed and she drew back her lips from her teeth in a slight, silent snarl. After what seemed like an eternity, but could have only been a few moments, she relaxed.
"What the hell was that all about?" Langly demanded, still twitchy.
"Some potentially unwelcome company," Tara replied grimly. She looked at the three men. "I must go. My presence here is putting you in danger. When Mulder returns, give him the card." She scooped up the small envelope of photographs and turned towards the door.
"Gee, and people call us paranoid," muttered Frohike.
Tara paused and looked back, a slightly sardonic smile on her face. "Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they aren't out to get you," she quoted softly, and then glanced significantly at the camera. (1) With another enigmatic smile and a swirl of long black hair, she was gone.
Langly stopped the tape and Byers pulled the curtains open again.
"What do you think?" Scully asked Mulder in an undertone.
"I think we might have something," Mulder replied. He looked at Langly and said, "Do you have the card?"
Langly nodded and pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Mulder. The two agents examined it. The words, "Ask for Cassie Schubert at the Red Rock Rumble in Lakeview, Montana. Be prepared for some hiking; my home is not readily accessible from any roads," were printed on a small, white card, the image of a light blue star superimposed on the background.
Scully glanced at Mulder. He had that look on his face that told her he was going no matter what. Knowing better than to argue, she decided to beat him to the punch. "So," she asked, "when are we leaving?"
Mulder looked up from the card, slightly surprised. "You don't think it's a trap?"
"Of course it could be a trap," Scully retorted, "but we aren't going to find out here, and since we have leave time, it's a good bet we won't get bugged if we take a vacation to Montana."
Pocketing the card, Mulder stood and shook hands with his three watchdogs. "Thanks guys, I appreciate it."
"Anytime, Mulder," Byers replied. "We figured this would be right up your ally."
With another grin, Mulder and Scully left the headquarters of The Lone Gunman, heading for the airport.
- X -
(1) This line is a quote from Ilaron Highborn, main character from an excellent book called "Son of Darkness" by Josepha Sherman. It was too good not to use here. Read the book; it's very good! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!