From drjudd@rainbow.net.au Fri Aug 30 08:50:16 1996
OFFSPRING
DESLEA R. JUDD
drjudd@rainbow.net.au
Copyright 1996

DISCLAIMER

This book is based on The X Files, a creation of Chris Carter owned by
him, Twentieth Century Fox, and Ten-Thirteen Productions. Fox Mulder,
Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and a number of lesser characters including
Bill Mulder, Mrs Mulder, Samantha Mulder and her clones, Maggie Scully,
Melissa Scully, Captain Scully, Sharon Skinner, Kimberly Cooke, the
Cigarette Smoking (Cancer) Man, the Well Manicured Man and his offsider,
Frohike, Quiqueg, Gautier, Jean Gautier, Ellen, and Alex Krycek remain the
intellectual property of those parties. A number of other characters are
the author's creation and are copyright, and may not be used without her
written permission. These include but are not limited to Dr Karen
Koettig, Agent Grbevski, Melissa Samantha Scully, Grace Skinner, Clone 1
(Cynthia), Clone 3 (Carolyn), Clone 4 (Catherine), Dr Sam Fieldman, Dr
Paul Sturrock, Dr Marion Pieterse, Wendy Tomiris, Serena Ingleburn,
Amarette, Dr Jillian Maitz, Hallie, and Emily Trent. Any queries
concerning ownership of minor characters not mentioned here should be
directed to the author.

(See Pt 1 for complete spoiler, content, and comments info).

A few spoilers from Pilot, Duane Barry, Ascension, One Breath, Colony,
Endgame, Anasazi, Blessing Way, Paper Clip, Nisei, 7.31, Piper Maru,
Apocrypha, and Avatar.

I've rated this book R just to be on the safe side, but I think it's more
PG-13, in truth. There's some low-level sex (three scenes, more
emotional than anatomical), low-level bad language, low-level violence,
and that's about all.

Comments, good and bad, are welcome; but make sure they're constructive,
please! My e-mail is drjudd@rainbow.net.au, but don't worry if you see
something else in your "reply" header like magna.com, because Rainbow.Net
shares a server with another ISP called MagnaData. And if you think my
work's worth stealing, I'm flattered; but don't even think about it.
Archivists, feel free to add this to your collections; but be sure to let
me know.

OFFSPRING BY DESLEA R. JUDD (11/18)

FIVE CONTINUED

5th Floor
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, D.C.
February 6, 1997

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," Scully called, not looking
up from her computer.
A diminutive brunette entered pushing a small trolley. "Good
morning, Agent Scully. How are you?"
She raised her head then. It was Amarette, the junior mail clerk.
Scully liked Amarette. She was only seventeen, and her youthful
enthusiasm was a nice change from the jaded cynicism of the more
experienced officers. Her occasional lapses in protocol were more amusing
than anything.
"Hi, Amarette. I'm well. Yourself?"
The girl flashed a dazzling smile. "Just great. It's a lovely
day." She looked in her trolley. "Not much for you today. But there was
a courier just now." She handed over a small pile of envelopes and
packages.
Scully smiled, taking them. "Thank you, Amarette."
"Well, see you later." The younger woman moved on, the door clicking
shut behind her.
Scully perused the envelopes. Most of them were internal; results
from pathology made up a large number of them. The important ones she
already knew about; the remainder she set aside. A few memoranda were
similarly set aside, and a couple more went in the bin. There was one
from Personnel advising that pays from February 1 would not be processed
until February 3 due to a computer error. Considering it was now three
days later, the warning was somewhat overdue. Scully tore that one up
with a wry grin. It was inefficient, but it was typical.
She came to the courier parcel, and almost dropped it when she saw
the GenTest Centre logo in the corner. Her work forgotten, she tore it
open and drew out the two reports - the analysis of the DNA of the genetic
mother, with a number of sectors omitted; these, she knew, were the ones
which had originally been labelled <> The second contained
those sectors with Fieldman's speculations as to their original
composition. Rising, Scully went to the door and opened it.
But then her hand fell away from the doorknob, her natural caution
coming to the fore. If she made an urgent request on this, it might come
to the attention of those who would like to know about it. She couldn't
risk it. It had to seem routine. She returned to her desk, dug out
another non-urgent DNA comparision, and clipped the three together with a
<> form. It pained her to do it, but she
ticked the box marked <> put it all into an internal envelope,
and set it down in her <> tray.
She tried to return to her work, but it was no good; her gaze kept
drifting to the envelope as she waited impatiently for Amarette to return
and pick it up. She opened her e-mail, hoping Mulder had sent her
something of interest to distract her. <> she typed in
impatiently at the prompt, followed by her current password, <>
<> the screen declared with a chime as though it
had done a rather special trick. She scanned the twelve entries,
dismissing most of them for the moment on the basis of their headings.
One of them intrigued her, however. The sender panel was blank; the
subject panel read, <> She clicked on the open button.
The message window contained just three words: <>
Scully went to her preferences and selected, <> She
returned to the message window, expecting to find the name of the server
from which the message had originated; or at the very least her own
server's name. But the path panel, like the sender panel, was blank.
Frowning slightly, she exited e-mail and telephoned computer support.
It took only a few seconds to confirm what she suspected: such an
error should not have occurred; but given that it had, the information
didn't seem to be recoverable. They could try, the technician said
doubtfully. Scully told them not to bother, and hung up. Her brow
creased, she sat back, wondering:
<>

Basement
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, D.C.
February 15, 1997

The cellular phone rang.
Juggling her coffee mug precariously in the crook of her arm, Scully
dug it out of her pocket and flipped it open. She set down the mug as an
afterthought. "Scully."
The reception was rotten. She moved to the window. The improvement
was slight. "Agent Scully, it's Agent Grbevski. How are you?"
The man's booming enthusiasm was annoying. "I'm fine, Grbevski -
very well. Yourself?" she asked impatiently.
"Good, Scully, real good," he boomed. "Listen, I ran that DNA you
gave me against our records. I didn't find a perfect match with anyone
we've got, nor anyone we're cross-referenced with."
Scully's heart sank. "That's okay, Grbevski. It was a long shot, anyway."
Grbevski made a noncommittal sound. "Maybe not such a long shot,
Scully. I did find one very close match with the incomplete readout you
gave me, although it does have some points of dissimilarity with the full
one. It's not him - the DNA you sent was XX, female - but it's not
impossible for your real match to be a close relative - a sister, I'd
say. The similarity is striking. I doubt it would stand up in court
without the actual match, but hell, it's a lead." Mulder knocked, and she
beckoned him in.
"Have you got an I.D. on this guy?" she was saying.
There was a shuffling of papers. "Sure have. He's one of ours,
actually. Got some perspiration and some blood from a murder scene a bit
over a year ago - retired State Department guy called William Mulder. The
sample was from his son. Fox Mulder. Special Agent. They call him
Spooky - into paranormal cases and all kinds of weird stuff. Based here
in Washington. Know the one?"
Scully's heart was beating very fast. "Yes," she said, her voice
strained. "I know." She paused, thinking frantically. "He was on the
scene with a relative. Bum steer. But thanks for following up."
Grbevski boomed, "That's what I'm here for. You sure I can't
interest you in dinner?"
Scully grinned. Some things never changed. "Some other time, Grbevski."
"I'll hold you to that," he warned.
"Damn you, you will, too, won't you?"
Grbevski just laughed, and rang off.
The laughter in her voice died as soon as the phone clicked, and as
she put it away, she sat down with a thud and stared up at Mulder.
<>
<>
<>
"So what did our infatuated Texan friend have to say for himself?"
Mulder grinned. "I'd love to see his face if he knew you were seeing the
Assistant Director." His emphasis on the word <> left no doubt as
to the word he would have liked to substitute.
Scully snapped, "You could just as well tell him I'm pregnant to you,
Mulder, or so I hear."
Mulder, understandably puzzled, gave her a quizzical look. "Come again?"
Scully sighed and motioned for him to have a seat. "Grbevski found a
close match on the DNA reading Fielding gave us." She wasn't sure if she
meant 'us' in the sense of her and Walter or her and Mulder or all three
of them, but Mulder read it to mean her and him. It was automatic. They
were a team.
Mulder's eyes widened. "Thank God, we've got a break at last,
Scully. Who is it?"
Scully shook her head hopelessly. "It just leads straight back to
where we started, Mulder. The abductions."
"Meaning?"
Scully leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. "Meaning, Mulder,
that the close match is you." Not waiting for comment, she continued,
"The actual match is almost certainly a close relative of yours. A
sister, most probably." She paused. "Mulder, I'm sorry. It seems like
every time we have a case we get a lead on her - hell, we know more about
what she's doing than she does, I think - but we never get close enough to
find her."
Mulder had flopped down into the chair in front of her. "Samantha."
His voice was stunned. He looked up at her, hopefully. "Samantha was
alive six months ago."
Scully looked dubious. "Not necessarily, Mulder. They can freeze ova."
"But they usually don't, do they?"
"No," Scully admitted, cautiously. "You've got to be much more
careful than with embryos. An embryo can survive minor damage, but
because an ovum is a single-cell organism, any damage at all will kill
it." She paused. "You've also got to be sure that the chromosomes split
into twenty six pairs before you do it, otherwise the resulting infant can
have chromosomal disorders." She looked at Mulder. "But it can be done,
and done for long periods. These people are like mad scientists. They
probably would freeze them without concern for those sorts of
considerations."
Mulder went on. "Not with those sorts of risks, not after all the
trouble they'd gone to to engineer the DNA in them. The ova must have
been fresh."
Scully laughed suddenly. "So to speak. You may be right, Mulder,
but don't forget, the ova - and presumably the sperm which we presume was
implanted - had been genetically altered. We can't be certain that the
normal rules apply." She paused, suddenly grave. "I don't want you to
get your hopes up, Mulder. We just don't know. And even if we did, we
can't know where she is now, or whether she's still alive."
Mulder shook his head suddenly. "She's not dead, Scully. I'd
know." There was no response she could make to that, so she remained
silent. Suddenly, he grinned. "Scully, I'm going to be an uncle."
To his surprise, Scully rose from her chair and walked to the
window. She put her hands absently over her swollen stomach. Mulder
glanced at the door, cautiously. It was closed. "You know, Mulder, it's
funny." She bit her lip. "It seems like everyone has a claim on this
child except me. Skinner's her father, you're her uncle, Samantha's her
mother - hell, even those bastards who did this helped create her. I'm
carrying her in my body, and I feel her when she moves and kicks, and God
help me, even when she has the hiccups - but what am I to her? I'm
nothing." Her body suddenly slumped in defeat.
Mulder went to her then. He touched her arm and turned her to face
him. "That's not true, Scully. Samantha and those people-" (<> he added mentally) "-gave her cells. You and Skinner gave
her life. They're donors, if you want to be kind about it, or
witch-doctors if you don't. You're her mother." He searched for words
that would speak to her, mean something to her, and found them. "They
played God, but in continuing with this pregnancy, you've returned to God
what is God's - the power over life and death. Believe me, Scully. You
and Skinner are her parents in every way that counts. She'll grow up to
know that."
"Assuming she lives to grow up," she said bitterly, looking away.
She looked back at him, her gloom gone as suddenly as it had arisen. She
gave him a smile. "Thank you, Mulder."
"All part of the service."
She gave him a gentle smile, and returned to her seat. Mulder did
the same; then, remembering what it was he had wanted to discuss with her,
handed her a file and began to speak.
Scully listened, but there was something nagging at her in the back
of her mind. It revolved around the idea of Samantha. <>, her mind played over and over again - why
was she so hung up on her full name? <>
Scully sat bolt upright. "I'm an idiot!" she cried, slamming her
hand down on her desk.
Mulder started. "What?"
Scully looked at him, reluctant to get his hopes up. But she
couldn't lie to Mulder. "Samantha Ann Mulder," she said slowly. "S-A-M."
They had argued about SAM before. Scully, desperately clutching at
straws, had wanted to believe in the mysterious e-mail. Mulder had been
sceptical - for once. What if it was a trap? Now, torn between logic and
his own need to believe, his brow puckered. "Why would Samantha conceal
her whereabouts on the system? Why would she be so cryptic - why not give
us an exact location? And why would she e-mail you, and not me?"
Scully considered. "Maybe she was concealing her activities from
people at her end, not ours. Maybe that's why she contacted me instead of
you. Maybe she doesn't even know exactly where she is, or where the
railroad is. That territory isn't mapped, remember. Mulder, if this was
a trap, they'd give us more than this."
Mulder winced. He had said almost exactly the same thing the last
time they'd received a mysterious e-mail. That had led to a group of
mysterious women who appeared to be clones, women with green blood that
corroded whatever it touched. "I wish you wouldn't use my own arguments
against me," he said crossly. Scully grinned at him. "Besides, I was
wrong that time. It was a trap."
Scully's grin faded. "Touche. All right, let's consider it
suspect. But we still have to check it out."
Mulder nodded. "Okay. But let me put Frohike on it, all right? I
don't think it's a good idea for you to go walking into what is quite
possibly a trap."
"You're getting protective again," she reminded him good-naturedly.
She was right, but Mulder shook his head. "It's more practical than
that. What if you walk into this, and it is a trap, and you get taken
again. Do you want to risk them taking you and finding out that you're
pregnant?"
Scully bit her lip. "Of course not."
"Then you'll let me hand it over to Frohike and stay out of it?"
It was against the grain, but he was right. The risk was too great.
Scully hesitated a final moment, then said softly, "Okay."

Coming In Part 12: Scully And The Sphygmomanometer/A Friend Indeed

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