"Commander, Colonel," Chegwidden said.
"You are familiar with the recent incident aboard the Eisenhower?"
"A pilot—Lieutenant
Adam Richards, is charged with assaulting a guard and accessing violating
a secure area," Mac said.
"Not entirely," Chegwidden
said. "The victim of the assault hasn't pressed charges. And there does
seem to have been sabotage on the Number 2 Reactor. Which raises the question
of how Lieutenant Richards knew of it."
"Is Lieutenant Richards
a suspect for the sabotage?" Mac asked.
"If he wasn't involved,
he's the best lead on who was," Chegwidden replied.
But what is Al
doing here? In the present—the present Al? Sam thought. And where's
my Al? he wondered. And as if on cue, he heard the imaging chamber
door slide open. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hologram Al
double-take on seeing Present Al.
"Curiouser and curiouser,"
Hologram Al said, waving a smoking cigar that probably smelled as bad as
the one Present Al was smoking. "What am I doing here?"
Good question,
Sam thought. Maybe one that ought to be asked.
"Excuse me, sir," Sam
said.
"Commander?" Chegwidden
replied.
"May I ask what Admiral
Calivicci's involvement is in this case?"
"I'm glad someone
asked, Harm," Present Al said.
Mac glanced sidelong
at Sam. Do you know him? she mouthed.
"Yes," Hologram Al
said. "You—I mean he—I mean the person you've leaped into—is the son of
a pilot I served with in Vietnam."
"AJ, if you don't mind?"
Present Al asked.
"Go right ahead, Admiral,"
Chegwidden said.
"All right," Present
Al began. "Basically, there is suspicion that this was an attempted terrorist
act. As such, the FBI has taken a special interest in this case. Two agents
will be joining you on this investigation. You are to escort them, and
keep them from certain secure information."
"Wouldn't that be standard
operating procedure in a case such as this, Admiral?" Mac asked.
"We don't think that
this particular FBI team is actually interested in investigating terrorism,"
Present Al said. "We believe that they may actually be interested in investigating
certain top-secret Navy projects."
"Why do you say that,
sir?" Sam asked.
"One of the agents—Fox
Mulder—has been attempting to investigate this particular project for a
while," Present Al replied. "He's on some sort of quest to uncover the
'truth' behind everything from telepathy to UFOs—"
I did uncover the
truth about UFOs… Sam thought. At least, he thought he did. He remembered—
Maybe he leaped out at the last minute. He thought there had been something
there… But the quest for truth—wasn't that his also? And Al's? "To dream
the impossible dream…" Sam muttered.
Present Al did a double-take
at that. For a moment, he peered directly into Sam's eyes.
Hologram Al peered
at Present Al peering at Sam. "Just back away slowly," Hologram Al said
to his counterpart. "Just don't go there…"
Present Al broke eye
contact.
"In any case," Chegwidden
broke in, "the two of you will accompany these two FBI agents to the Eisenhower.
You will assist them in finding those responsible for this attempt. And
you will see to it that their investigation is limited to that. Dismissed."
Sam and Mac saluted
Chegwidden, and left the office.
Flight Deck—USS Eisenhower
The helicopter set down on the flihgt deck
with a slight thud—or perhaps more than a light thud—Scully couldn't quite
tell, through the thick headphone/ear protectors they were made to wear.
A crewmember opened
the helicopter door, and motioned for Mulder and Scully to get out. Two
officers were waiting for them on the flight deck.
"Special Agent Mulder,"
Mulder yelled over the helicopter noise. "This is my partner, Special Agent
Scully."
The shorter officer
replied—in a female voice—"Lt. Colonel Mackenzie. This is Commander Rabb.
Let's got belowdecks so we can talk."
Mulder and Scully followed
the officers off the flight deck, and they changed out of their flight
suits.
Soon, the four of them
were sitting around a conference table. The Colonel was a youngish woman,
with dark hair and dark eyes and an unmistakable air of self-confidence.
The Navy officer, however,
was another matter. A man in his late thirties—dark hair, striking blue
eyes. Scully noticed—because it seemed out of place on a JAG officer—the
aviator wings pinned to his duty whites.
She looked over at
Mulder, who was no doubt making his own observations of the officers. He
seemed to pause just a beat too long on the Colonel.
Mulder spoke first.
"So, Commander, Colonel. How far has you investigation extended to this
point?"
"We only arrived shortly
before you did, Agent Mulder," Mackenzie replied. "We've been instructed
to share all of our non-classified findings with you, and rest assured,
we will."
"And what's classified,
and what's not classified?" Scully asked.
"Generally speaking,
anything related to the personnel involved will most likely not be classified,"
Mackenzie explained, "As opposed to certain aspects of the ship and ship's
systems, which are."
"Are you saying that
we will have no access to any physical evidence from the crime scene?"
Mulder asked.
"Not exactly," Mackenzie
replied. "Commander Rabb and I can collect physical evidence, which, if
the evidence itself isn't sensitive, we can share with you."
"And who determines
what's 'sensitive'?" Mulder asked.
"The Navy," Mackenzie
replied.
Mulder nodded in response
to her answer. But his eyes were fixed on Rabb, who remained silent. Finally,
Mulder nodded. "Fine. Would it be possible to interview this Lieutenant
Richards?" he asked.
"Absolutely," Mackenzie
replied.
"I think it would be
most efficient if we split into two teams—with one person from each department
on each—to question the suspect, and one to inspect for physical clues."
"Agreed," Colonel Mackenzie
said. "Agent Scully, I understand that you have a background in the sciences."
"I am a medical doctor,"
Scully replied.
"That might be helpful,"
Mackenzie said. "You and I should take a look at the engine room. Commander
Rabb—who appears to know how to speak to pilots in their own language—will
debrief the suspect."
Scully and the Colonel made their way through
the bowels of the ship toward the reactor room.
"Have you and Agent
Mulder been partners long?" the Colonel asked.
"More than six years,"
Scully replied. Six very long years, she thought. "And you and the
Commander?"
"Oh. Well, we're not
really partners so much anymore," Mackenzie replied. "More often than not
these days, the Admiral puts us on opposite sides of the courtroom—facing
off against each other."
"And through that,
you remain friends."
"Yes. Very good friends."
The Colonel shrugged. "It's nothing new, really. We've always disagreed,
about many things. I mean, basically, I'm a Marine, and he's a naval aviator.
We sometimes seem to disagree on everything. But I trust him. And I respect
him, despite that. Do you know what I mean, Agent Scully?"
"As a matter of fact,
Colonel, I think I do," Scully replied.
They came to a bulkhead
that was under guard.
The guards saluted
the Colonel, who returned the salute.
"Ma'am, I am to escort
you into the reactor room," one of the guards said to Mackenzie. "And the
civilian will have to wait here."
Scully nodded, and
waited while Colonel Mackenzie inspected the scene. Ten minutes later,
she emerged looking confused. She handed Scully a piece of notepaper, on
which was written "Ziggy C1459: 9E0WV0AIV"
"Have you ever seen
anything like this, Agent Scully?" she asked.
"Where did you get
this?" Scully asked.
"It was written on
a surface in the reactor room."
"No," Scully said.
"I haven't seen a code like that before."
TO BE CONTINUED