TITLE: MOON AND MORNING STAR (1 of 5)

AUTHOR: DAVID HEARNE

CLASSIFICATION: X, Sequel to "The Kilembe"

RATING: R

SPOILERS: The mythology, not to mention "Orison."

DISCLAIMERS: "The X-Files" is the property of Fox and 10-13.

ARCHIVE: Yes

Send feedback to ottercrk@sover.net

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PART ONE
THE STORY SO FREAKING FAR

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You enter the bar and find only one person inside. This person is a black
man dressed in a Bugs Bunny t-shirt and a baseball cap divided into four
colors. He holds a bottle of beer in one hand and his feet are propped up on
a table. He is singing along with the jukebox, waving his bottle in the air.

"Be-bop-a-lula, she's my baby...Be-bop-a-lula, she's my baby..."

Then he notices you. "Oh, hey. You came a little late, didn't you? Well,
take a seat."

You sit across the table from him. The black man takes a swig from the
bottle as he watches you with his amused eyes. Then he tips his hat and
said, "The name's Eshu. I suppose you want me to explain what's being going
on."

He lets out a long breath. "That's not easy. There's one hell of a backstory
here. I'm not just talking about this particular tale. I'm talking about
everything that went on before it. *Everything*."

He looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds, then turns back to you. "Maybe
I should just confine myself to the borders of this specific tale. Fine with
you?

"Fine.

"The two main characters of our story are Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, both
of them agents for the FBI. That's Federal Bureau of Investigations to you.
These two specialized in cases centering about unexplained phenomenon --
that's a fancy term for ghosts and psychics and crap like that.

"Now, Mulder's main interest was in aliens. You see, his sister was abducted
by them when he was a lad. He would later find out...well, maybe we don't
need to get into that.

"Eventually, Mulder himself was abducted by aliens. This was pretty lousy
timing on their part because after seven years of unrequited longing...seven
years of sleeping alone...seven years of enough sexual tension to burn out
the ozone layer...Mulder and Agent Scully finally admitted that they were in
love with each other. His departure hit Scully pretty hard, especially since
she later found out that she was pregnant. Of course, that was odd because
she had been rendered barren by medical experiments...

"I *told* you there was a big backstory here."

Eshu swallowed another mouthful of beer. "Now let's shift to the continent
of Africa and the country of Zimbabwe. A few weeks after Mulder's abduction,
a whole wardful of AIDS patients disappear from a hospital. Among the people
working in the hospital is Charles Scully, Dana Scully's do-gooder brother.
He comes back stateside and tells Scully what happened. She decides to
investigate this odd occurrence. That's when she finds about something
called The Kilembe.

"Oh, by the way...someone else is in Africa. Nigeria, to be exact. This
one-armed guy named Alex Krycek and this blonde chick named Marita
Covarrubias are trying to build a gigantic shelter which various members of
the world elite will use to weather out the impeding alien colonization...

"Oops. Did I fail to mention that? Yeah, the little grey buggers are going
to colonize our planet in a very drastic way. Krycek and Covarrubias used to
be part of a human conspiracy that was negotiating with the colonists in
hopes of secretly sabotaging the aliens' plans. But then, the conspirators
were killed by a rebel faction within the colonists. K. and C. are the last
remaining members.

"Oh, and a former Nazi called Conrad Strunghold is still alive. He doesn't
like the idea of this shelter. Ve are not amused, you know. He doesn't like
the idea of the world's elite just sitting by and watching colonization
happen. So he's probably got his own little plans going there.

Eshu looks at his empty bottle. "'Scuse me a second," he says, then goes to
the bar and removes another bottle from a small fridge. He pries off the
top, gulps down another mouthful and says, "Now where was I?

"The Kilembe. Right. Well, The Kilembe are a pretty weird bunch. They're
comprised mostly of Africans who follow this white guy named Mwuetsi. Ask a
member of the Kilembe why they follow Mwuetsi and they'll tell you that he
has been blessed with divinity, he can perform miracles, he will lead the
world to a new era, blah blah blah. It's not exactly clear how Mwuetsi will
bring about a new era. However, people are leaving their homes and trudging
across Africa just to be with this man.

"People like Krycek and Strunghold know that there's something deeper going
on here. They know because there are alien abductees in The Kilembe --
abductees who had vanished around the same time Mulder did. Their return
indicates that The Kilembe is tied in with colonization. They just don't
know how.

"Well, *I* know how. I'm the only bastard around here who does know.

"Back to Scully...she makes contact with Doctor Amina Ngebe who had been
involved with Scully in another little tale I won't get into right now. It
does have some bearing on this story, though.

"Anyway...

"Ngebe gives Scully and her brother the lowdown on The Kilembe. Scully
decides to go see Mwuetsi who has made his unofficial headquarters off the
Gulf of Guinea. Scully and her crew find a whole damn settlement there
-- hundreds of people living in tents and serving Mwuetsi. They also find
one Billy Miles. He was one of the people taken with Mulder when he was
abducted. Only now he calls himself Fam and he has no memories of his life
before The Kilembe.

"You know, you will be tested on all this so I hope you're paying attention.

"Well,  Scully manages to get an audience with Mwuetsi -- the big man
himself.

"Guess who it is.

"Go ahead. Guess.

"Yeah, well, it's Mulder. Big surprise. And he doesn't remember anything
about his previous life either.

"At least, not in a concrete way. The more he's with Scully, the more his
repressed memories start to surface. Unfortunately, the first memory that
comes to him is of a rather questionable incident Scully was involved in.
That will be discussed later. When Mulder remembers it...or, rather, when
Mwuetsi remembers it, he denounces her and orders her to leave. Feeling like
she got punched in the gut, Scully does so. However, she does come running
back when a bomb goes off right under Mulder's feet."

Eshu takes another sip of beer, then taps the bottleneck with a finger.
"Let's see...is that everything? Mulder, Scully, the baby, alien
colonization, Krycek, the Kilembe...yeah, I think that's about it.

"Oh, well, there's me. I pop up every now and then. Of course, I'm not sure
if I'm comic relief or the deus ex machina." Eshu grins. "Maybe both.

"Anything else?

"Oh, yeah. Something is coming. Something big.

"Let's go further on. If you're confused, tough. A story -- like life
itself -- waits for no one."

Eshu turns to the jukebox and sings along with a new tune.

"And I wonder...still I wonder...who will stop the rain?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

TITLE: MOON AND MORNING STAR (2 of 5)

AUTHOR: DAVID HEARNE

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PART TWO
THE SECRET OF DANA SCULLY'S CHILD

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She ran with no intention of stopping. Those who got in her way were pushed
aside. She came running because even after Mulder had shunned her and ever
after she had finally confronted what was weighing down her heart, she was
still Dana Scully. To be Dana Scully was to be an FBI agent, a doctor and
the woman who loved Fox Mulder. That couldn't be taken away from her.

Charles Scully and Doctor Ngebe tried to keep up with her. Running alongside
them were other members of The Kilembe. All were headed towards the center
of the explosion. One bad feeling after another piled up inside of Charles.
He wanted to yank his sister out of the Kilembe settlement before the
inevitable yet unnamed disaster occurred.

If it hadn't already.

As of that moment, though, he couldn't even keep within touching distance of
her. She only stopped after she shoved through one last circle of people and
found ground zero of the blast.

The only remains of the tent were burning shreds of canvas. Its material
contents had been splintered and scattered around a new hole. As for the man
himself...

Scully knelt before the body. It was covered head-to-toe in ash. There were
no visible burns but it made not a single movement.

She pressed her fingers against Mulder's neck.

The arteries were frozen. No blood was flowing to create the needed pulse.
She kept her fingers against his neck and she thought, Oh, God, don't let
this happen, don't punish Mulder for my sin, forgive me, forgive me, forgive
me.

Then she felt a single throb. She waited for the next one.

It occurred after several seconds went by. So did the third one. Mulder was
alive but only in the loosest sense of the word.

She looked up at the people standing around her. That they were upset was no
surprise.

What was a surprise was how angry they also looked. Billy Miles was staring
at her with suspicious, mean eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A short time later, Conrad Strunghold was talking with Adolf Hitler.
Actually, it was somebody who just looked remarkably like Adolf Hitler. He
couldn't decide if this was meant to be a joke. However, he decided not to
press the issue. His relationship with this man and the group he represented
was tender enough as it was.

Their meeting was held in a small house located in Ijebu-Ode. Hitler's
companions were outside, keeping a close eye for any threat.

"Have you heard?" Strunghold said. "Someone exploded a bomb in..."

"We heard," Hitler said.

"Perhaps Krycek decided to go on the attack after all."

Hitler shook his head. "No. He couldn't have done it. Nobody could have. The
colonists have him too closely guarded. If it was possible to kill Mulder,
we would have done it by now."

"But then who...ah. I see."

"Yes. Mulder shall be well. The colonists have given him the ability to
survive an explosion. However, he'll be unconscious for an extended period
of time."

"Which is what the colonists want." Strunghold put his hands in his pockets,
looked down at the carpet and began to pace slowly.

"Mulder must be eliminated," Hitler said in a tone that allowed no
disagreement.

"I know. However, if you can't eliminate him in a physical sense, you need
to find a different kind of weakness."

Hitler was silent for a moment, then said, "The woman Scully."

"No. When they reprogrammed him, they surely took her into account. I
daresay that she was the first thing they expunged from his memory. We need
to use something else with a deep resonance for Mulder. Something he thought
he had resolved."

Strunghold looked up and snapped his fingers. "I know just the thing."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What did you do to him?"

At first, Scully had no answer for Billy Miles' question. She didn't know
any answer that would soften the rage in his eyes. It would have been
pointless to say that there had been no opportunity for her to plant a bomb
in Mulder's tent. All Billy knew was that their leader had been struck down
and she had been the last person to see him. She could see the same anger in
the faces of other Kilembe members -- an overwhelming desire to exact
vengeance for this crime. They felt helpless and a sacrifice was needed to
stop that feeling.

Charles saw how they were looking at Scully. He stepped in front of her as
if he could keep a hundred people from touching his sister.

"Now let's not do something we might regret..." he warned Billy.

"We will see retribution for this," Billy said, his voice low.

Scully finally spoke but she said the wrong thing. "Billy, wait..."

"MY NAME IS NOT BILLY!" the Shaman replied, then he pointed at Scully. "TAKE
HER! TAKE THEM ALL!"

Charles managed to knock one of The Kilembe in the jaw and the two women
managed to get in a few kicks. There were just too many, though. Scully,
Charles and Ngebe were pinned to the ground. As hands spread apart their
limbs and sunlight pressed against their faces, they thought of many
different things. Ngebe thought about God and wondered if He would save
them. Charles cursed himself for bringing his sister down here and
frightened himself with the idea that his mother might lose two more
children.

Scully held similar thoughts in her head. She also prayed for Mulder. In
that moment, he seemed as trapped as she was. The best part of his soul had
been robbed.  She felt a horrible certainty that the thieves had just
tightened their grip around him.

She had other concerns as well. Was that a rock in somebody's hand? Did she
just see the gleam of a metal blade?

"I speak as a Shaman," Billy called out to the hundreds of people gathered
around him. His voice, the rustle of wind against canvas and ocean surf were
the only sounds to be heard.

"Mwuetsi has been struck down. Those who delivered the blow must be
punished. For this crime...for this outrage...for this blasphemy...there can
only be one true response...

"Blood must be answered with blood."

Scully closed her eyes.

"All three shall feel the wrath of The Kilembe, starting with..."

"No."

Scully had never heard that voice before, yet it sounded familiar. A quick
run through her memory brought back images of a Mulder who wasn't Mulder
holding her by the throat in a hotel room. She also remembered being held
around the throat by another person who carried a stiletto. The tone of the
voice in both events had been one of cold, blunt authority. It was the voice
of a person expecting to be obeyed and nothing less.

This time, the person speaking was one of the African members of The
Kilembe. Scully turned her head and managed to see him. When she saw the
firm look in the African's eyes, she knew who he really was.

"You will not harm them," he said.

Billy stared at this upstart. "I am a Shaman," he said in disbelief. "My
word is law here."

"No."

The man's skin lightened, his cheekbones grew higher and his brow thickened.
Everybody gasped. Or screamed. A few even fainted.

"Jesus..." Charles whispered. Ngebe said nothing but her breathing became
louder.

Billy got down on one knee. Others followed suit. "Who are you?" he
whispered.

"I am from Mputu," the transformed man said. "I have to come watch over
Mwuetsi."

He walked over to Mulder, bent down on one knee and waved a hand over the
unconscious man's ash-covered face. No one saw the smile that passed briefly
over his lips.

Then he stood up and turned back to Billy. "Let these three go. They had
nothing to do with this."

No one waited for Billy's order. The three prisoners were released. They got
up slowly off the ground, watching the shape-changer like everyone else.

"An enemy of Mwuetsi did this," he explained. "He shall tell you who when he
awakes."

"He's alive?" Billy said in awe.

"He is Mwuetsi, is he not? No, he is only sleeping. Look over him and see
that no one disturbs him."

"It shall be done."

The shape-changer turned to Scully and her companions. "I will lead you from
Kalunga."

They were hardly in a position to say no.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"The bastards are moving faster than we thought."

These were the words that woke Alex Krycek from his sleep. He had been
taking a nap in a trailer set up on Ygdrasil's construction site. Last
night's work had extended into the first hours of morning. He needed the
rest he had been trying to get and he was close to screaming at Marita
Covarrubias for her loud entrance into his trailer.

However, he instinctively knew that she had come with important news. "What
are you talking about?" he muttered as he sat up on his cot. The short,
round piece of flesh extending from his left shoulder throbbed. Dammit, he
thought. It still hurts after all these years.

"Someone attacked the leader of The Kilembe."

That shook the weariness out of Krycek's head. "Is he dead?"

"No. But he was never intended to be killed."

"What do you mean?"

Covarrubias explained.

Krycek let out a breath. "Well...then they're moving to the next step."

"Right. And this is it."

Covarrubias held out a folder. Krycek accepted it with reluctant fingers and
opened it. He found photos of a black sky covered with stars. Each photo had
a white dot encircled with red ink.

"Some observatories have picked this up. They don't know what it is.
However, we have sources working in astronomy divisions who do know."

"So do I." He looked up. "Have they figured out its intended destination?"

"Yes. It's going to stop right in our back yard."

Krycek's weariness returned. "Damn. They are moving fast."

"Of course, this could only be the beginning of the process..."

"Or it could be the final step." Krycek tossed the folder aside and rubbed
his face. "We're not even close to being done on Ygdrasil yet."

Covarrubias hesitated, then said, "There's one more thing you should know."

"And what's that?"

"Mwuetsi...is Mulder."

Krycek stared at Covarrubias and considered screaming at her again.

Instead, he said, "I want you...to go outside...and tell everybody that I am
not to be disturbed for three hours. I don't care if Jesus himself wants to
see me. No one goes through that door."

Covarrubias nodded, then turned and left the trailer.

Krycek sunk back onto his cot. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep.

It didn't come.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As before, Charles' main goal was to get himself, his sister and Doctor
Ngebe as far away from Kalunga as possible. And as before, his sister was
keeping him from his goal.

The moment they reached the edge of Kalunga, Scully stopped, spun towards
the shape-changer and said, "What the hell are you doing?"

This defiant reaction shocked Charles and Ngebe. They were still trying to
get used to this stranger's existence but Scully treated him like an
obnoxious neighbor.

The shape-changer, however, appeared only mildly amused. "Saving your life,
I believe."

"In order to further your own agenda."

"How can that be?"

"Because everything you do is for your own agenda."

"Couldn't you say that about yourself as well?"

Before Scully could reply, Charles grabbed her on the arm. "Goddammit, Dana,
let's get out of here!" he hissed in her ear.

Scully yanked her arm away from Charles. "Not until I get some answers!" she
shouted back.

"I would like one answer," Ngebe said in a quiet voice. She looked at the
shape-changer and said, "Who are you?"

"I serve the colonists," the shape-changer replied in a casual voice.

"He's a bounty hunter," Scully snapped. "He does the dirty work for the
aliens."

"If you want to put it that way...yes. I do."

Charles took two steps back. He stared at the Bounty Hunter, feeling wobbly
on his legs. Ngebe was as still as a glass statue.

"What have you done to Mulder?!" Scully shouted at the Hunter.

"We have given him what all humans want -- godhood."

"You brainwashed him."

"We gave him a life much better than his last."

"Oh, so it was all for his own good?"

"It is also for our own good. The Kilembe will help to facilitate
colonization."

Scully's eyes were full of incomprehension at first. This was replaced in a
few moments by horror.

"You're not going to force colonization on this world," she said. "You're
going to trick the world into accepting it."

The Bounty Hunter nodded. "The original Project was to be conducted in
secret," he said, his voice calm and reasonable. "The sudden appearance of a
colonizing force might have resulted in a...negative reaction by this
world's inhabitants."

Charles let out a short, choked laugh. His eyes were dazed.

"Since those plans were ruined, we set about finding a new approach. Then we
observed that many of the abductees had added a religious dimension to their
abduction. People like Cassandra Spender, for example."

"So you're going to be gods now."

"Why not? Look at the things we can do. If we're not entitled to be gods,
who isn't?"

Scully hesitated, then said in a quiet voice, "Why Mulder? Why did you
choose him to be Mwuetsi?"

"That was partly circumstance. The genetic mutation Mulder had undergone
made his body easier to biologically transform. There is also a
certain...what do you call it?...charisma about him. He makes for a good
leader. And, finally, he wanted to be Mwuetsi."

"What do you mean, wanted?"

"A desire for power is an element of any driven personality like Mulder's.
There was also a deeply rooted part of him that longed for this kind of
transformation. He wanted to leave his life behind him and say good-bye to
all the pain he felt..." The Bounty Hunter looked at Scully. "...and all the
pain he saw in others."

Scully bit into her cheek.

"Lately, I have come to an understanding of the complexities in human
psychology," the Bounty Hunter said. "An understanding and an appreciation."

Scully kept quiet for a long time. Then she said ---

"Why did you save us?"

"To protect your child."

Scully took a step towards the Bounty Hunter. "You cured my infertility,
didn't you?"

"We enabled you and Mulder to procreate."

"Why?" Scully felt her heart beating faster. "Is my child a part of your
project, too?"

The Bounty Hunter tilted his head at a slight angle. "Do you believe that?"

"Why else would you do this to me? What's special about this child?"

"What's special?"

The Bounty Hunter walked forward until he and Scully were face-to-face.

"Nothing, Agent Scully. Absolutely nothing at all."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

TITLE: MOON AND MORNING STAR (3 of 5)

AUTHOR: DAVID HEARNE

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PART THREE
A GIFT OF DESPAIR

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He watched himself get taken away. His body had been hollowed out. The
pieces of his mind were being stored in a secret bag. An outline of a human
consciousness was the only thing left to him. It waited to be filled up
again.

He wondered if he should be more disturbed by this. There should have been
something grotesque about a person being so easily broken down. Instead, he
accepted his situation like a tired man accepts slumber.

Every once in awhile, though, a tiny flash would go off in the corner of his
vision. When he turned his head to look, hands would grab him by the ears.
You don't want to look at that, a voice said. Do you?

There were no opposing arguments that he could imagine. He stayed still and
waited to be given a soul again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're lying."

"I'm not. There's nothing unique about the child you're carrying. It has no
psychic powers, no advanced biological immunities, nothing. It's just a
healthy normal baby."

Scully looked into the Bounty Hunter's eyes. They looked back without
blinking.

She said, "But...why..."

"Consider it a gift."

She could get no words out but the disbelief in her eyes expressed
everything she wanted to say.

"If we are to be gods," the Bounty Hunter said. "then we will be gods not
without charity. We understand that you have suffered much due to your
involvement with the Project."

Scully raised a hand, then dropped it. The Bounty Hunter took no notice of
it.

"Since we are removing Mulder from your life, it was decided to give you
something in return." He paused, then said, "Do you wish to keep the child?"

Scully stepped back and pressed a hand against her stomach.

"I'll assume that means yes. We have bestowed a miracle onto you, Agent
Scully. May it give you some happiness in the days ahead.

"Now...you should leave."

The Bounty Hunter turned and walked back to the settlement. He had taken ten
steps before Scully called out, "You know what?"

The Bounty Hunter stopped but didn't turn. "Yes?"

"If you are capable of doing kindness...but you hurt people most of the time
anyway...then that doesn't make you a god. It just means you're no better
than any other son-of-a-bitch in this world."

The Bounty Hunter remained unmoving as Scully and her two companions walked
back to the car. He heard the car drive away. Then he said --

"Perhaps."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Charles wondered if he was going to throw up. His head felt dizzy and his
skin tingled. He looked at Doctor Ngebe. She seemed calm enough though her
hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel.

He turned to Scully in the back. She looked beyond calm -- she almost looked
dead.

He had to say something, but what? "Oh, so that guy was an alien, huh?"
"Hey, Dana, your boyfriend is the leader of a cult that's going to pave the
road to an extraterrestrial colonization. How about that?"

He decided to say, "It was the colonists who set off the bomb, wasn't it?"

The car was silent for a moment, then Ngebe said, "That's what it looks
like, yes."

"I imagine that... Mulder was able to protect himself through whatever
powers the aliens gave him. So he was never in danger."

Ngebe nodded.

"So now he's going to be out of it for awhile. His followers will wait,
expecting a miracle. And when he comes back..."

"He'll be even more powerful than before."

"Yeah." Charles paused, then said, "So what are we going to do now?"

"Nothing."

Scully was the one who said that. Charles turned. Ngebe looked in the
rearview mirror.

"We're going to return to our families," Scully said. "We will do what we
can to protect them. That is all we can do."

"What the hell are you taking about?" Charles shot back. "The least we can
do is tell people what is happening and find some way..."

"This is the last time I'm going to tell you this, Charles." The harshness
of her voice was a tone that Charles wouldn't have expected to hear from his
worst enemy. "You are a late-comer. I've been on the frontlines of this war
for longer than you can imagine. I've even been a casualty. After looking
over our situation, my final assessment is that we've lost. We never had a
chance to win."

With that, she closed her eyes. As they drove back to Lagos, neither Charles
or Ngebe could think of any means to contradict her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She hadn't meant to be so angry.

Yes, she had. She wanted to make Ngebe and Charles understand the
hopelessness of any effort. They had to know that the battle was over.

Maybe they need time to realize that, she thought. Fine. I'm out of here in
any case. They can stay in Africa and shake their fist at the skies. After
finding out that no one believes you, Charles will learn...

God, what will I say to mother? I left Charles back in Africa because...

Because I don't care anymore, mother. I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of the
burden that was dropped on my shoulders without me asking for it...

But no one ever asks for any burden...

No, I just don't care. I don't care for Charles or mother or...

Scully went to a mirror and pulled up her shirt. She looked at the extra
inch added to her stomach.

I didn't ask for you, either, she thought. Wait, that's a lie. I did ask but
then I found out...

I wasn't worthy.

She sat on the bed. A half-hour ago, she had left Ngebe and Charles to make
their own decisions. For her own part, she had gone to her hotel room in
order to pack. Instead of doing that, however, she had wandered around her
room and looked out the window.

Now she was on the bed.

Ten minutes went by. She still hadn't moved.

Then someone knocked on the door.

"Room service!"

She let out a tiny sigh.

The man knocked again. "Room service! I have an order for Dana Scully!"

"I didn't order anything!" Scully called out.

There was a moment of silence, then --

"Room service!"

"I said, I didn't order anything!"

"Room service!"

"Go away! I didn't..."

"Room service! Room service! Room..."

Scully marched to the door in a half-second. She yanked it open and
screamed, "I DIDN'T ORDER ANY..."

Then she saw the hat. The man was dressed in a formal white suit but his
pith helmet was painted with four different colors -- red, black, yellow and
white. He stood behind a table tray on wheels. A covered dish was on the
tray and a slip of paper was in his hand.

He looked at the slip and said, "Really? Because I've got an order here for
a silly pregnant woman who is wallowing in her self-pity. I believe that's
you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

TITLE: MOON AND MORNING STAR (4 of 5)

AUTHOR: DAVID HEARNE

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART FOUR
TIME TO LOOK FURTHER

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Scully felt the single most profoundly weary moment of her entire life. Then
she said, "Who are you supposed to be?"

"The name's Eshu..."

"No, I mean what are you? An alien? A ghost? Some kind of gremlin?"

"Uh...may I use one of my lifelines?"

"Well, whatever you are, I'm not interested."

"You haven't..."

"Go away."

Scully slammed the door. When she turned around, she saw Eshu sitting on the
bed with a leg crossed over a knee.

"What I *am*, Agent Scully, is someone who has kept a close watch on this
soap opera you're involved in. I have to tell you that whatever happens in
the future, none of it will affect me. The humans could die out, the aliens
could cancel their plans or the whole lot of you could expire in a big
mushroom cloud...it doesn't mess up my schedule."

Eshu leaned back on his elbows. "Nevertheless...I care a lot more than you
do."

Scully's shoulders drooped. Eshu waited for her to speak.

"It's not that I don't care..." she said, then looked away with a painful
expression.

Eshu stood up from the bed. He tucked his hands into his pockets and said,
"It's that you don't feel worthy."

Scully gave no reply but the look on her face confirmed Eshu's observation.

"Agent Scully," Eshu sighed. "you're not the Virgin Mary. Neither are you
Massassi, one of the Fates, Kuan-yin or even Xena the Bloody Warrior
Princess. You're just a person. But you are a brave, intelligent,
compassionate person."

"So compassionate that I killed a man in cold blood?"

Eshu walked up to Scully. "Look at me," he said.

She didn't until he pressed a gentle finger under her chin.

"Donnie Pfaster pushed you as far as anybody could have. And you had been
pushed far enough already. Maybe you did the right thing. Maybe not. But if
you decide to give up here, then Pfaster will have his final victory over
you. That can't happen. Not now. You are needed."

"Why? What can I do?"

Eshu frowned and pulled his finger away from Scully's chin. "Hm. Well,
that's a good question." He thought about it for a few moments, then lifted
his hand again. A business card was between his fingers.

"See this woman," he told her.

Scully hesitantly took the card out of Eshu's hand. She read the information
on it, then looked up. "How will she...?"

Eshu was gone.

Naturally.

She rubbed her thumb over the card. It was the only moving part of her body.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Had he ever felt soft hands? Had he ever known the touch of a person who
didn't hold onto him with a hard grip? Was there any person he knew who did
not seek to control him? All of these questions had the same answer -- no.
He had only known the touch of his creators who had made him out of light.
They were loving creators but they tolerated no disobedience. This was to be
expected. They were from Mputu and the world was theirs to shape. Why should
they treat him any differently?

Still he longed for soft hands.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So at what point are you going to make up your goddamn mind?"

"Right now," Scully answered.

"Okay," Charles said, his hands tightened into fists. "You are going to stay
in Nigeria."

"Yes."

"Then I'm staying."

Scully shook her head. Charles wanted to cross the hotel room and shake his
sister. He had come to her room, expecting to see her packed. Now she was
giving him this new brand of shit. In her own way, she could be more
infuriating than Bill. At least you knew what motivated him. What was going
on in his sister's head?

"Sorry," he told her. "If you stay..."

"You might get killed."

Charles closed his mouth. When he opened it, he said, "And you can't?"

"I'm not sure what's going to happen to me, much less what can."

"Is that what I'm supposed to tell mom?"

"You tell her...that she didn't raise her children to flee their
responsibilities."

"Well, you're my responsibility. I'm not going to..."

"Charles, stop."

He did. He had no choice. When he had entered the hotel room, he had found
an introverted woman sitting on a bed and holding a business card. Now she
was Dana Scully -- the middle school student who would correct her  teachers
when they made a mistake, the daughter who told her parents that she was
going to Quantico and that was final, the woman who had faced a hundred
dangerous situations in her life. When she spoke, you better listen.

"You brought me this far and I'm grateful for it. But there's no need for
you to go further. I'm not putting you at risk." She paused, then said,
"We've already lost one Scully."

Charles could give no argument, no rebuttal, not even a response. Scully
walked over to him and took ahold of his limp hand.

"I mean it, Charles. Go home. You have to look after your family, not to
mention our mother."

"And what about your family?" Charles said in a quiet voice. He looked down
at her stomach.

For a brief moment, Scully's stern look wavered. Then she said, "You can't
help me there, either."

"Oh, thank you."

"I'm sorry. But that's the way it is."

"Well, I don't like it." Charles looked at his sister. "But I have to accept
it, don't I?"

Scully squeezed Charles' hand. He squeezed back in return.

"I hope to see my future nephew," Charles commented. "Or niece. Someday."

"I hope so, too."

Charles shook his head. "I can't believe that I'm leaving you alone."

"I'm not alone."

He gave her a puzzled look. Before he could ask what she meant, she kissed
him on the cheek and said, "You better go now."

That's what he did. It would be a long, long time before Charles ever saw
his sister again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He asked why they were doing this to him. Their answer --

"To prepare you for the great task."

What is the great task?

"You shall be the bridge between two worlds. You shall allow the spirits of
Mputu to merge with the people of Ntoto."

Why must that happen?

"To purify Ntoto. To make it a better world."

Is Ntoto so corrupt that it needs purification?

"You know the answer to that already."

He did. The people of Ntoto had poisoned their world and degraded
themselves. He had just met a woman who had...

The woman...

Why had she committed her evil deed? Why did she kill a man?

Instead of asking the questions to the spirits of Mputu, he asked them to
himself. Answers slowly became visible as he caught loose memories. He
remembered that the woman had been hurt, that she had tried to do good all
her life but had been rewarded with torment, that she...

"Think no more of this. Rest now."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Doctor Ngebe came to Scully's hotel room in the late of night. She found
Scully sitting by the window. The FBI agent seemed to be waiting for
something.

"Are you all right?" Ngebe asked.

Scully turned to Ngebe. There was a smile on her face. Ngebe didn't know
whether to be pleased or worried.

"Define 'all right,'" Scully replied.

"Yes...well...under these circumstances, 'all right' could mean a lot of
things."

"It could mean not wanting to throw yourself out a window."

Ngebe cleared her throat, then said, "So...are you all right?"

Scully didn't say anything, but she remained smiling. She held out a hand.
Ngebe walked over and grasped it.

"What about you?" Scully asked.

"I'm frustrated."

"That's understandable."

"No. You can't understand."

Scully's smile disappeared. "Why not?"

"Because you're a participant, not an observer."

"Oh. Is that what I am?" Scully's voice wasn't sarcastic. If anything, it
sounded distant.

"I've always sensed that life is driven by more than what we can see and
measure. For life to be created at all needs so many different events to
occur...so many factors to come together as one. It can't be just an
accident."

Scully nodded.

"Now, for the first time, I am close to the forces behind that creation. But
I can go no further." Ngebe looked at Scully. "You can."

"Maybe. But I'm not sure I want to."

"Why? What are you afraid of?"

Ngebe waited for an answer. Eventually, she realized that she would get
none. She also noticed the business card clutched in Scully's other hand.
She was tempted to ask about that but knew that no answer would be
forthcoming there, either.

Instead, she asked --

"What do you need to go forward?"

Scully let out a long breath, then said, "I don't know. I hope it comes
soon."

"Well...at least, you can still hope."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Day-o...day-o...I am the G-E-O..."

He couldn't get this odd little song out of his head. It was a melody he
associated with sparks, broken glass, the scent of candles, a woman's blank
face turning shocked. He didn't know why. At first, the song had aroused
feelings of disgust. Now he wanted to sing it himself as if it could raise
the corpses of his dead memories. He had been robbed of something precious.
This was certain. However, every time he demanded to know what it was, the
voices said --

"Don't look any further."

Then he would tremble in the darkness. He was trapped, facing the knowledge
that he would forget these worries; that he would be a god again; that he
would forget the pleasure of soft hands.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After Ngebe had left, Scully remained by the window. She stayed there past
midnight. Even as the clock reached two o'clock, she felt untired. Instead,
she was fully awake and ready for one particular moment. She didn't know
what that moment would be but...

It was coming...

Two-forty-five...

Soon...

Three-twenty...

She could...

When she heard a new knocking at the door and heard a familiar voice, she
jumped from her chair, ran across the room, flung the door open and embraced
the man on the other side.

Walter Skinner hadn't been expecting this. He had antcipating Scully to be
surprised and maybe even irritated by his presence. Getting a strong hug
from the woman hadn't been forseen.

After his initial surprise, though, he folded his arms around her in return.
He didn't know the reasons behind this intense greeting but he could tell
that she needed comfort. That's why they held each other in silence for a
long time.

Finally, Scully said with a voice rough with restrained crying, "I need..."

"I know. I know."

Then a voice said, "Can I have a hug, too?"

Scully turned and saw a young boy. It had been nearly two years since she
had last seen him but he looked even older than that. Then, again, he had
always seemed like an old soul in a child's body.

He was still a child, though. Scully gladly bent down and hugged him as
well. "It's been awhile, sweetie," she whispered in his ear.

Gibson Praise frowned. "Don't call me that."

"Sorry," she said with a smile. She pulled back and studied his dirty
clothes, the tape holding his glasses together, the unkempt hair on his
head. "Where have you been?" she asked.

"Hiding. Moving around."

"You mean, you've been alone for these past two years?"

"I haven't been alone. I had a friend."

"Who?"

"You know who."

Scully looked up at Skinner. He had the kind of sturdy look only a former
Marine could have but it was taking considerable effort to maintain. "This
young man has quite a story to tell," he said with a deadpan tone.

"Is that why you've come here?"

"That and because this young man contacted me with information. He says
that..."

"Something is coming," Gibson said.

He said nothing more than that but Scully nodded. "I imagine so."

She looked at the business card. It was still in her hand, wrinkled and
bent.

Then she stood up and said, "We have to go somewhere."

"Where?" Skinner asked.

Scully showed him the business card. Skinner blinked twice and said,
"But...why there?"

"Because that's where we can help Mulder."

"Mulder? What do you mean...?"

"He's here," Gibson said. "In Nigeria."

Skinner looked like he had just been hit with a baseball bat. "Here?"

"Yes," Scully said.

"Tell me everything."

"I'll tell you on the way."

"Agent Scully, I have just come off a long trip with this young man. I'm
tired. So are you, I gather. I would like to know why we should..."

"The man in the funny hat told her to do it," Gibson said.

Skinner flashed a look of annoyance at Gibson. "Would you mind not...?"

He felt Scully place a hand on his shoulder. "Walter," she said. "Let's go."

Skinner's large body seemed ready to collapse. Then he straightened himself
out and said, "Aw, hell."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eshu watched Scully, Skinner and Gibson leave the hotel. After waving their
hands for awhile, they got the attention of a late-night taxi. As they drove
off through the streets of Lagos, Eshu cracked his knuckles and said, "Let's
dance."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

TITLE: MOON AND MORNING STAR 5

AUTHOR: DAVID HEARNE

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

PART FIVE
A LITTLE SONG, A LITTLE DANCE

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We have to kill Mulder."

Ibrahim Hurana sighed. "From what Krycek has told me, that is impossible.
There is no way to reach him."

Karl Lagerlof shook his head, causing his flabby chin to quiver. "Anybody
can reached."

"We are not talking about ordinary security here," Krycek said in a firm
voice. "We are talking about shape-changing aliens who are nearly impossible
to kill. They'll have Mulder completely surrounded. Any assassin will be
killed before he even had a chance to terminate Mulder." He looked at every
person gathered in Haruna's office -- Lagerlof, his body taking up a lot of
space on a couch; Thomas Dern looking strange in his white suit, large belt
buckle and cowboy hat; Ch'en Yu-hsiu who was the only one standing as he
slowly paced around the office with his arms across his chest. Dern and
Lagerlof looked back at Krycek, each expressing mistrust in their own way.
Lagerlof sweated and Dern's mouth was pinched into a tight line. Ch'en kept
his eyes on the floor as if all the possibilities of the future were etched
down there.

"I am not inclined to standin' around and doin' nothin'," Dern said in his
heavy Texan accent.

"Nothing is not what we're doing," Krycek assured him. "Ygdrasil proceeds
ahead."

"From what I understand, that place ain't gonna be ready by the time...well,
you-know-what shows up."

Krycek and Haruna glanced at each other. Then Haruna's smile went up and
said, "Before we start to panic, we should keep in mind that we may not
necessarily be looking at the final stages of colonization."

"Yet we have much reason to believe that we are." That was Ch'en. Everybody
turned to look at him. He remained pacing and staring at the floor.

"The human collaborators managed to keep the aliens at bay for a long time,"
he observed in a quiet voice. "After all these years, they must be eager to
enact their plans."

"Exactly," Lagerlof said. "That's why we must strike at The Kilembe and..."

"Don't any of you understand?" Krycek snapped as he stood up from his chair.
Now all the attention was on him. Even Ch'en stopped pacing and looked up.

"It's over for us -- over for human domination of this planet. Any hope we
might have had of disrupting colonization has long since passed. If you want
to protect yourselves and your families, then concentrate on Ygdrasil.
That's the only place where you'll be able to survive."

The room was quiet for a moment, then Ch'en said, "But that's the problem,
isn't it? Ygdrasil won't be completed in time."

Without the slightest hesitation, Krycek said, "Not to house our original
capacity, no."

He didn't bother to follow that comment up. The implication was as obvious
as his prosthetic hand.

Lagerlof yanked out a handkerchief and patted his forehead. "I can't believe
this..."

"Son," Dern said. "I have been to a fair number of angry shareholder
meetings. Those could be pretty damn rambunctious. I can't imagine what
would happen if we started excludin' fellow investors from this project."

Krycek replied, "When the day comes, I think you'll find it easy to say no."

Another brief period of silence passed. Again, it was Ch'en who ended it.

"We should start drawing up a list of the people we need."

"God," Lagerlof said. "God."

It took them eight minutes to complete the list. Then the meeting was
adjourned. After Lagerlof, Dern and Ch'en left the office, Haruna said,
"There are two other names we should consider dropping off the list."

"Is Lagerlof one of them?"

Haruna smiled. "I believe Dern and Ch'en would say yes."

"Then they must also know that we need the fat bastard's resources for now.
Let him believe he's still in the loop. Who is the other person?"

Haruna looked at a corner of his desk. "Miss Covarrubias," he said as he
brushed dust away. He turned back to Krycek who had become motionless.

"Well?" Haruna said. "Lagerlof has a higher standing than her. Why should
she be among the chosen ones?"

"Lagerlof is being excluded because he's weak. We need survivors and
Covarrubias is definitely one."

"You're not saying that out of any lingering affection for past days, are
you?"

Krycek smiled. "You know me better than that, Ibrahim."

Haruna gave Krycek a close look before laughing. "Quite right. Speaking of
the past, just what went on between you and Mulder anyway?"

Krycek stopped smiling. "I would rather not talk about him."

"Ah. All right."

"Time is short and we have work to do. I couldn't care less about Mulder."

"Whatever you say, Alex. Whatever you say."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Maryam Dankabo did not share her magic with just anyone. It wasn't some
tawdry product to be sold in the marketplace. What she sold there were
trinkets made to look convincingly 'exotic.' Those were bought by people who
were gullible enough to believe they were 'authentic' magic charms. (The
customers were usually white.) Every once and awhile, a customer would call
them out for the frauds they were. Maryam would lean over and whisper, "Very
good. Would you like to see some real ones?"

In the days of The Kilembe, her monopoly on magic was very thin. Even though
she lived miles away on the north side of Lagos, she could sense the power
building in Kalunga . A great event was about to occur. She watched and
waited, unsure as to whether her own magic would protect her.

When the three white people came to her house, insomnia had already been
keeping her up. Darkness still held sway over the sky but the sun would rise
in a few hours. What will rise with it? she wondered as she stood at the
doorway of her house and smoked a cigarette.

The taxi's engine was the only sound in her neighborhood. It bounced over
the lumpy stone road and stopped in front of her house. The three white
people stepped out, looking rattled and weary but also determined. After the
taxi driver was paid with a hefty fee, he drove off. They turned to the
house.

They saw a tall old woman dressed in a red robe. She saw a thickly-built man
with glasses, a ragged child and a short, red-haired woman.

It was the woman who got Maryam's attention. She looked like a person who
had just walked through hell but wanted to make a return trip.

Maryam took a puff on the cigarette and blew smoke in her visitors'
direction as they walked up to her doorway. She wasn't smiling.

"Are you Maryam Dankabo?" the white woman asked.

"Do you think that I am?"

Scully looked at her, then said, "Yes."

"You would be right then." Maryam blew out another cloud of smoke. "So why
have you come at this ungodly hour?"

"Eshu sent me here."

Maryam leaned against the doorframe. "Did he now?" she said with a
dispassionate voice.

"And...I chose to come."

For the first time, Maryam smiled for her visitors. The smile wasn't big but
it was evident. "Better answer." She motioned to the boy and the man. "What
about them?"

"They are with me. I need them."

"Are you sure? You should not make any journey with unnecessary companions."

Skinner interrupted. "Now hold on..."

The old woman stopped smiling and gave Skinner a look that clamped his mouth
shut.

"I am not sure why I need them," Scully said. "But I do. Maybe because they
are my friends."

"Ah," Maryam said. "Well, I can't argue with that." She tossed her cigarette
onto the ground, stepped aside and welcomed her visitors in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

You held onto her next to an empty hospital bed...

"This did not happen."

She held onto you as you cried over the death of your mother...

"You never had a mother. We created you."

She said that if she could save you, let her...

"You already have been saved. By us."

But why do you remember...

"Your mind has been poisoned. Soon you will be Mwuetsi again and these
dreams will plague you no more."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They sat on creaky furniture, surrounded by walls built out of mud. "So,"
Maryam said, her face barely visible in the light of a kerosene lamp. "what
do you need from me?"

"I don't know," Scully answered. "I don't even know what you're capable of
doing."

"Well, perhaps a better question is -- what *do* you need?"

Scully let out a tiny laugh.

"What's funny?"

"I need quite a lot, to tell the truth."

"Then let's narrow it down. What do you...why are you looking at me like
that?"

Maryam was addressing Gibson. Ever since he had first seen the old woman,
his expression had been surprised and fascinated.

"I don't know what you're thinking,"he replied.

Maryam looked the boy over and said, "Ahhhh. You're a dream-watcher, aren't
you?"

"Something like that. I can look inside people's heads. But...I can't look
inside yours."

"That's because, young man, I made sure nosy little fellows like you can't
do so." She said this with an amiable smile. Gibson returned the smile.

Maryam turned back to Scully. "So...what would you want most of all?"

What other answer could there be?

"I see," Maryam said after Scully had given her answer. She folded her hands
and closed her eyes.

Skinner looked at her, then at Scully. The agent had her attention focused
on Maryam. That's when Skinner felt his strength give way to his weariness.
He bent his neck forward and rubbed the back of his head. This was not a
situation he was trained to accept. For him, a problem was solved by the
most direct means at hand. He hated all these riddles and ambiguous people.
He especially hated when nobody told him...

Maryam clapped her hands together. Skinner jerked himself up, looking like a
schoolboy woken by a teacher.

"Mr. Skinner," she said.

"Y-yes?"

Maryam stood up. She pulled on a carpet to reveal a trap door.

"Would you open that for me? It's terribly heavy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Through a rain of sparks, Marita Covarrubias watched the body get carried
away. She was one of the few at the site who permitted themselves to watch.
After it had been verified that Mlilo Nyagumbo was dead, the supervisor
ordered one team to take the body away and everyone else to go back to work.
No one defied his orders. They were too well paid or too intimidated or
both. Pipes continued to be fitted, cement went on being poured, the welders
resumed their shower of sparks and Nyagumbo's corpse was hauled off.

Covarrubias heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Krycek also
wearing protective goggles and a helmet.

"One of the workers fell from a platform," she said. "He's dead."

The bright lamps illuminating the site seemed more expressive than Krycek's
face. As if Covarrubias had reported nothing extraordinary (and it wasn't --
two workers had already died in accidents at the Ygdrasil construction
site), he said, "We're going to be cutting people out of the shelter."

She wasn't very surprised. Still she needed a moment to keep herself
controlled. "I suppose that the list has already been made," she said in an
even voice.

"It has. You're in."

She didn't say "thank you." She just nodded.

"Haruna wasn't sure that you should be allowed to stay in."

"I don't see why. If it weren't for you and I, then Ygdrasil wouldn't even
exist."

Krycek made no comment. He looked towards the partially built building. It
had the appearance of a gigantic broken tooth. Through the gaps in the
walls, he could see the computers, beds, gun racks and refrigeration units
being assembled inside.

"Scully is here in Nigeria," Covarrubias said.

"Why am I not surprised?" Krycek replied without missing a beat.

"It's...very unclear as to what she's doing. But she does know about
Mulder."

"Undoubtedly she'll start banging her head on that particular wall."

"Would it be a wall for her?"

Krycek was looking at her now. "You think she can reach him?"

"I imagine if anybody could, she could."

"Does that make you envious?"

"No," Covarrubias said. "It's been a long time since I've given a thought to
Mulder. Whatever he might have meant to me once has no more relevancy for
me."

"I kind of said the same thing to Haruna."

There was a moment of silence.

"I suppose there's something liberating about cutting away your past,"
Covarrubias said.

Again, Krycek had no response. Both of them watched the sparks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The only light available was the flickering glow of the kerosene lamp
upstairs. It scattered illumination through the open trap door, providing
scarce means for Scully, Gibson and Skinner to see in the cellar. Maryam had
gone ahead of them on the ladder that descended past the door. Then she had
vanished into one of the cellar's dark corners. At first, the others could
only hear her breathing.

Then she said --

"Now let's begin."

The trap door slammed shut over their heads. In a darkness so thick that you
couldn't even see your hands, they heard the carpet roll back into place.

"I am much stronger down here," Maryam told them.

As if to illustrate her statement, a fire erupted at their feet. Everyone
except Maryam jumped back. The new light exposed the bewilderment on the
visitors' features and the calm on the old woman's face.

It also exposed the drawings on the stone walls of the wide cellar. Outlines
of figures with limbs and torsos bent in improbable positions danced around
Maryam. They chased after gigantic horned cattle with bows and arrows. One
person was drawn with long lines making up the lower half of his body.

Maryam pointed at Skinner. "You." She indicated the wall at her right. "Sit
over there."

The large man did as she commanded. After he sat down, he noted an object
lying against the wall. It was a smooth ball made of clay with a stick
jutting from its bottom.

"Sit over there," Maryam told Gibson, indicating the left-hand wall. He
found a similar object waiting for him as well.

Maryam turned to Scully. To the FBI agent, the old woman's eyes were
brighter than the circle of wood burning between them. Scully instinctively
checked on the ladder.

It wasn't there anymore.

"Have you ever heard of the San?"

Scully turned back to Maryam. "No, I...I'm afraid I haven't."

"They are better known to the world as the 'Bushmen.' Among the special
rituals of their people is Tcheni -- a sacred dance."

Maryam sat down on the ground, dust seeping into the folds of her robe. She
examined Scully as if to convince herself that the white woman was ready.

Ready for what? Scully wondered.

Maryam lifted her hands.

She clapped.

She clapped again.

She clapped a third time.

And on and on, creating a steady rhythm.

Her eyes shifted towards Skinner. He looked back in confusion. Then he
remembered the object at his side. He picked it up and gave it a tentative
shake.

Beads rattled inside it. He shot a look at Scully. Her expression told him
that Maryam was in charge here.

He let out a breath, then shook the rattle in time with Maryam's clapping
hands. Gibson picked up his own rattle and did likewise.

Scully realized what was expected of her. This is ridiculous, she thought.
The world is coming to an end and I'm being told to dance.

The old woman continued to clap. Her unblinking eyes promised that she could
keep this up forever.

Ah, hell, Scully thought.

She started to dance.

At first, she felt ridiculous. This was because she looked ridiculous. Her
jerky limbs and stiff shoulders were straight out of an awkward
middle-school social. Maryam's clapping hands also reminded Scully of a
piano teacher's annoying metronome. On top of all that, the heaviness in her
stomach put her in no mood for dancing in any situation.

Yet she continued. The others watched. Skinner would have laughed at
Scully's inelegant movements if the situation weren't so pathetic and weird
at the same time.

Gibson didn't feel like laughing at all. He knew something was going to
happen. He felt it as surely as he felt the iron walls around Maryam's
thoughts.

He was right.

Scully didn't know when she started to lose herself in the dance. The memory
of the exact moment was as vague to her as the memory of a knockout punch to
a fighter. All she could have told you was that at some point, the dance
became serious. She lost her hesitancy. Her neck loosened and her shoulders
rolled. There wasn't a whole lot of grace in her flaying arms and kicking
legs but the abandonment was a sight to behold. Even her inflated womb felt
as light as smoke. She danced around the fire with her eyes closed, throwing
dust up in the air with the sparks breathed out from the fire.

Skinner couldn't pinpoint the exact moment of transformation, either. His
mind had been absorbed by the clapping of hands and shaking of rattles. When
he finally noticed Scully's shaking body, he was tempted to halt the dance.

Maryam began to sing. That's when he knew that everything was out of his
hands. The song was in charge -- a melody older than most countries. It had
remained preserved in memory despite the corrosive effects of time. Just as
it had done in the light of fires lit three thousand years ago, it had taken
ahold of the dancer and wouldn't let go.

Scully could hear another song. She was the only one who could hear it. The
singer was invisible but she knew that he wore a multi-colored hat.

"Confusion in her eyes that says it all...
"She's lost control...
"And she's clinging to the nearest passer-by...
"She's lost control..."

She seemed to be watching her body from a distance now. It convulsed and
spun and trembled. This didn't concern her, though. Instead her worries were
centered on a man in a coma.

"And she gave away the secrets of her past and said
"I've lost control again..."

She turned away from her body and called out to him. Her voice was
nonexistent to any human ears but it echoed over unseen lands.

"And of a voice that told her when and where to act, she said..."

If I can save you...

"I've lost control..."

...let me.

"...again..."

Scully collapsed, just a few inches from landing in the fire. Neither Gibson
or Skinner did anything. They only noticed Scully's fall when Maryam stopped
singing and clapping. They continued to shake their rattles for a few more
beats after that. Then their faces twitched.

Skinner dropped the rattle and scurried to the fallen woman's side. His
throat clenched when he saw her face.

Blood was pouring from her nose.

"How is she?" Maryam asked.

"She's unconscious," Skinner said in a grim voice. "We need..."

"I wasn't talking to you."

Skinner jerked his head up. As before, his impatience was tamed by the stern
expression on Maryam's face even though she wasn't looking at him.

She was looking at Gibson. He was concentrating on Scully with his strange
eyes.

"She's okay," he told the others. "She's just gone away."

"What is she doing right now?"

"Talking with a giant bug."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He no longer resisted the sleep. As others tinkered with his mind, he
contented himself with the euphoria of being unconscious. Why should he have
ever considered being awake? He had forgotten his reasons for fighting, just
as the voices had promised. From now on out, nothing but the spirits of
Mputu could disturb his slumber.

"Mister Mulder!"

Twenty sets of eyes greeted him as his own eyes snapped open and his chin
leapt from his chest. All of the eyes were amused except for one set. Those
eyes were both amused and irritated.

They belonged to a man dressed in the stereotypical garb of a college
professor. He had leather patches on the elbows of his tweed jacket,
gleaming shoes on his feet, spectacles on his nose and a pipe in his mouth.
The tweed hat decorating his head looked typical as well except for the fact
that it was divided into four different colors.

"Have you acquired sufficient rest, Mister Mulder?" the professor asked.
"Can we depend on the benefit of your insights for the remaining time of our
class?"

Mulder squirmed in his chair. He glanced down at the notebook resting on the
long curved table before him. The words "mythology" and "archetypal hero"
were written between the lines.

On the other end of the classroom and facing the long white tables arranged
in front of him, the professor removed the pipe from his mouth. "Well?" he
said. "Do you wish to remain here or not?"

Mulder looked at the door.

After a few moments passed, he turned back to the professor and said, "No,
sir. I wish to stay."

The professor slowly stuck the pipe back in his mouth.

Then he nodded and smiled. "A wise decision. This is where we get to the
good stuff."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


AUTHOR'S NOTES:

What happens next is the subject of the next installment tentatively named
"Jumping Over the Fire."

Song used in "Moon and Morning Star" are "Be-Bop-a-Lula" by Gene Vincent,
"Who Will Stop the Rain?" by Creedence Clearwater Revival, "Don't Look Any
Further" by John Hiatt and "She's Lost Control" by Joy Division.

Again, any misrepresentations of African culture is purely my fault.

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