Many hours later, Dr. Scully comes to. She no longer wears her medical attire. Her face mask and surgery glasses are both gone. Her latex, too, has been robbed of her two feminine hands; ones that a certain FBI agent, no doubt, has had wet dreams of. He's surely not alone there.
Nearby, Indigo Beetle sits. He attends to her. Telepathically, he and his Reach scarab play a psionic game of chess. As one might expect, the scarab usually wins these.
"Check," Beetle keeps muttering. His muttering of this word is infrequent. But then, such is the nature of how often a chess player's king is put into check by his opponent...if his opponent is an army commander of tomorrow, that is. And the Reach, as CADMUS might as well know, is very militaristic. In an alternate timeline where the Reach had better luck with the scarabs, all of the Beetles of all colors would've hijacked Earth for them. Alas, it seems the scarabs have more human talents than the Reach could know...Earth-native, though, the scarabs are not.
Near him, Scully wakes. She starts to stir, a bit, each time her attendant says the word "check."
She sits up and rubs her eyes. "Pardon?"
The Beetle blinks and postpones his telepathic chess game with his more militaristic half. "Sorry," he mutters. "It's just something that I do with my powers."
She looks around. "Where's my patient? How did I fall asleep?"
"Uh... We use chemicals here. You must've had a whiff of one that was too much for you."
This is all just a cover story, of course. For certain reasons, the people who run CADMUS (and this would include HOPE, the AI) seem to think that Dr. Scully would be better off if she remained ignorant of alienkind's existence. Hence, the thought-beast didn't just knock Dr. Scully out; the Doctor now has no memories of having treated her.
"Chemicals?!" Scully rubs her eyes. "Should I be concerned?"
"Not to worry; you've been treated. You should be fine."
She scoffs. "I guess that makes me the one of the worst patients; for I'm a doctor."
He smiles politely. "Not to worry; you didn't give us any trouble that we couldn't rise above. We're CADMUS; we have a reputation for surmounting the insurmountable. Anyway, to answer your first question, Dr. Veritas came back from Alaska early. And for personal reasons, she wanted to do the job herself. We're sorry it took her such a long time to make this choice, but sometimes that's just how some people work."
She scoffs. "You don't have to tell me twice. I spend a lot of my time working with a deluded FBI agent who keeps acting like he can't tell fantasy from reality. If one didn't know better, one would say he didn't know reality even existed. I'm almost sad that the Sandman hasn't recruited him yet." She scoffs. "But of course, it would help if he was younger...and not already an FBI agent...much teasing, he's already getting from other FBI and DEO agents who don't believe in aliens anymore than I do."
"Your car's still parked in the front lot. Do you need for me to show you the way?"
"No, that's okay; I've broken the codes of higher-tech mazes in the past." She studies him. "That's not to say, of course, that I've ever been a lab rat."
Beetle scoffs. "If only my scarab could relate to that..."
She studies him. "Your what?!"
He shakes his head. "Never mind. Have a nice day. We'll let you know how your would-be patient rebounds...or if they rebound. She's in good hands now, but that might change. And we might need you to redo the job..." He corrects himself. "We might need you to do a follow-up to Dr. Veritas's most recent work on her."
She looks around. She seems confused. "Are you sure I got knocked out by a cleaning chemical? Something still feels weird..."
"We didn't say it was a..." Again, Beetle corrects himself. "Never mind. Just so you know, you're not the first person who's come here that this has happened to. You've no need to feel shame."
She scoffs. "Well... I'd certainly like to do some digging, for all of those people's medical files, to see what their health was like. Is...there any way I could get their names?"
Beetle sighs. "Sadly, we have a policy here. A lot of people who come here sign agreements of anonymity with us. Hence, we can't release their medical info without risking breaking their confidence. Plus, it's kind of in the contracts. On one hand, there are very few lawsuits that can cripple us. On the other..." He blinks and shakes his head. "Let's just say that this is too complicated, and that I'm not the one who you should be asking about this."
"Very well; I won't press the issue harder than it's been. Anyway, thanks for everything...however much of it I probably slept through." She shakes her head. "I'm still confused. I almost NEVER pass out, when I'm not in bed... I volunteered for a few medical experiments at Stanford in which I submitted to a few sedatives, but..."
"I have a security detail to man. So if you can make better time departing, than..."
"Of course; I'm sorry. Have a nice day. And thanks for... Never mind; I said that already."
At this, Beetle freezes, a bit. He's almost worried that the thought-beast did too much work, when she modified Scully's memories... And yet, at the same time, it's like the thought-beast didn't do enough... With luck, though, Dr. Scully will remain passive about this affair. Best case scenario, she'll start laughing about it, if anyone ever tells her that it had anything to do with aliens...or, "X-Files," as the FBI seems to prefer to call certain cases; criminal cases, specifically.
With Scully departing, the Indigo Beetle spreads his wings, and retakes flight. He continues to fly his patrols around the CADMUS facilities. It just so turns out that this isn't the only nearby facility who's paying him to be on guard duty. Certain parties in Anvil, a town in Texas, also have stake in him. A major family in Muerto County in the same state, too, has stake in the Indigo Beetle.
From aloft, he watches as Dr. Scully takes her leave. She's stopped at the gate. There, guards search her vehicle. This is wise; every now and then, a captive at CADMUS tries to use a visitor's car as a Trojan horse to make an escape. The extradimensional octopoid martians, for sure, wouldn't have to try very hard to master this feat...if only they were any more capable of escaping from their cells than any of their fellow inmates already aren't.
Soon, though, Dr. Scully is past the guards. She turns and makes her way up a highway. Satisfied with appearances at last, the Indigo Beetle does a half-roll, turns, and resumes his patrol.
On the ground and on the highway, Dr. Scully seeks out the highway's speed limit. She's en-route to an FBI field office, where she's the medical examiner on staff. Kory Anders was once an intern and her coworker there. Since then, alas, Dr. Anders has moved on. What's even weirder, right before she quit, she said something that still, to this day, doesn't make sense to Scully; something about "titans..." If she was even being serious... Funny, though; Scully's pretty sure she would've been able to tell, if Dr. Anders was trying to tell a joke...
Alas, her telecomms ring. The US Department of Justice, it seems, is trying to reach her. Via voice command, she addresses them.
Nights ago, an object fell from space. Authorities haven't found it yet, but they're pretty sure that it landed in a Northwest New Mexican wood, not too far from here. The local Navajo, Scully is warned, have stake in that wood. Reports say that ARGUS, Checkmate, and ACME have already sent scouts to the wood to look around; so far, though, neither agency has followed up on these known reconnaissance missions.
In the distance, Scully thinks she can see...some sort of streak. It begins on the horizon, and rises high into the sky, past the ozone... Either that, or whatever left it was traveling in the opposite direction... And according to the navigation software in Scully's car, that spot would, in fact, be northwest of where she currently is...
Curious, Scully drives forth, and seeks out a place to bring her car about. For once, she's going to try to get to an X-File before the rest of the FBI can.
This is a wood in Northeast New Mexico. The Rockies are never too far to the East.
Among uphill trees, a crater has been made in the night. It still generates a lot of heat...and a little smoke. But of course, the Earth's exosphere is not known for its lubrication.
In the crater's center, the pod lies. It's barely dented. But then, Kryptonian blacksmiths were never known for their tolerance of error. Little on Krypton, in fact, ever was. And yet, the apocalypse happened anyway.
Inside, the host still sleeps. He won't so for much longer. The interior of his sleeping chambers still glows with harlequin-green light... One day, the harlequin kryptonite inside will be depleted. But it won't be anytime this year...or even this decade. Good thing L-Corp doesn't find it. Good thing the Bureau of Normalcy doesn't, either.
On the hull, the dwarfstar remora still rests. He hasn't flinched much since the landing. He hasn't flinched much more since attaching himself here to begin with. He's a long way from a space dolphin...if he's even looking for one.
The pod's AI inspects the area, to see if it's inhabitable by the host's species. All tests pass. Hence, the pod opens.
For the first time, the kryptonian youth emerges from the pod. At first, he's in the buff. The pod's instruments, though, soon weave, for him, a pair of short harlequin-green shorts. Now he's decent...
Slowly, the boy's gaze turns towards a rod of sunlight, spotlighting part of the forest. For some reason, that rod of light makes him feel...empowered, in a way...
So, he makes way towards it. It doesn't take him long to get there...used to walking, though he is not. Even if not, he wouldn't take long to learn. Even now, his intelligence expands.
Within his gestation pod, the harlequin-green kryptonite still glows... It will, surely, for over a century. It's been known to have a variety of affects on pre-apocalypse kryptonians...with the most common one being getting stoned. With that said, there are a lot of psychedelic rock bands on this planet who'd probably benefit from having some of this kryptonite empower their amplifiers.
Now, he stands in the center of it. She spreads his arms, and leans his back backward, slightly. He opens his mouth and closes his eyes. He maintains this posture, for a bit.
The sun empowers him. He becomes faster. His five senses become sharper. His reflexes quicken.
Near him, he hears something. He opens his eyes and looks around.
A rattler sits coiled, way too close. He's ready to strike.
Here, the boy gets to prove his new reflexes...by clinching the snake, by its neck, while it's striking. Next, he gives it a flying lesson, by tossing it into a nearby pinyon pine. Too bad he's not one of those Chrysopelea snakes from Southeast Asia...
Around him, certain beasts of the woods approach him. Mule deer do. Cottontail rabbits do. Kit foxes do. Ringtails do. Kangaroo rats do. Doves do. Blue grouses do. Chachalacas do. In a subtle demonstration of state patriotism, roadrunners do, too.
It seems this boy can also induce emotions such as acceptance, trust, and admiration. Submission and love, too, he could induce. If he's not careful, the Harlequin Lantern Corps might come down from space to recruit him...
From over the horizon, a pillar of smoke rises. Drums and chanting, too, can be heard from the direction where it rises... They're not likely coming from a duck-footed dum-dum...better though that would be, if they were. In that village, duck-footed dum-dums get abused a lot more often than kittens under cars do.
He sees it. Curious, he makes way towards it. Around him, the beasts of the wood disperse.
He's entered a new world. Courtesy of the harlequin kryptonite, he can honestly say this has been one of the best experiences of his life...albeit the first. But then, at least he and the perfect bird chick have common ground; they've both hatched to benevolent circumstances worth bonding with. Alas, the boy's inhibitions are low...if existent at all. And this wood is only so known for its hospitality. Naturally, he's never seen a horror movie. Good thing, then, that ET isn't his first.