Julia 
Chapter Five

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Undisclosed location
West Virginia Mountains
June 3, 2000
9:45 a.m.


"He said he was negotiating with the aliens. 
Our cooperation in return for no further release
of the bees."

Scully and the Gunmen sat around the two by six
folding table, dissecting the Appointing
Authority's message, taking every word apart.

"Now that tells me something," Scully continued,
shifting her head to look at her friends in
turn.  At their bemused expressions, she
explained.  "It tells me that the Invasion
didn't quite go as planned."

"But our contacts around the world speak of
gestation," Frohike said.  "Humans being
digested by the virus."

In the three days they'd been holed up, the
Gunmen had managed to make contact with others
like them.  People hidden in basements and
sewers, root cellars and bomb shelters.  At the
moment, ham radio was the only way of
communicating.  The Gunmen assured Scully that
very shortly, they'd have secure modem access. 
Satellites still orbited the Earth; they could
ricochet signals off so many of them that no one
would ever be able to trace the source.

"Yes, but why negotiate?" she pointed out.  "If
it was such a success, why are the aliens
willing to make any concessions at all?"

"Good question," Langly murmured.  "Maybe they
never meant to succeed."

Never meant to succeed... never meant to.... 
Krycek's recent words echoed in her mind.

"Jesus."  Her whisper was faint but heartfelt.

"What?" Frohike asked, but all three leaned
forward at the realization on her face.

"Krycek said it himself a couple of days ago. 
Cancerman never wanted success.  Krycek thought
he never meant to succeed in keeping Mulder away
from the ship... but that's not the only failure
the old man had in mind."

"You mean - he *wanted* colonization to fail?" 
Byers' question was incredulous.  "But why?  I
thought that was the goal of the Project all
these years.  To facilitate colonization."

Scully shook her head at her own disbelief, but
as she thought about it, it made more and more
sense.

"It was... the goal of the *Project.* But the
Project is no more.  Cancerman's been operating
on his own for quite some time now.  Who's to
say he didn't decide he wanted it all?  All the
power in the world."

It sounded like a plot to a second-rate James
Bond film, even to her ears.  But why not? 
Power... lack of it, hunger for it, maintaining
hold of it... *that* was what motivated men like
Spender.  All the riches in the world paled in
comparison to knowing that there wasn't one
person alive who would dare say 'no' to you.

"Uh, Scully?"  

Frohike's mutter made the gears in her mind slow
down for a second.  An eyebrow raised, she gave
him her attention.

"We seem to be forgetting one important detail."

"What's that?"  Impatience made her reply short. 
She stood, anxious to prove she was right about
this.

"Invasion, infection, whatever you want to call
it... it still happened.  People are still
dying.  What's the use of being in charge if
there's no one to order around?"

"I'm right, I know I am," she replied, "I just
need proof."  She chewed on her bottom lip, her
mind back to full speed.  "You said your
contacts spoke of gestation?"

All three nodded, though with some wariness, as
if they knew where she was going with her line
of questioning.

"I want proof.  Pictures, video... even a body -
dead or alive - should be sufficient."

"A body?" They spoke in unison, their fright at
the prospect making them pale.

Scully headed off the potential argument by
saying, "Enough.  All right, I don't need a
body.  Video would be good.  Think you can swing
that?  And see if there's anything else on that
disc of Krycek's.  Maybe there's something we're
missing."

"Sure," Frohike answered, looking at the other
two who nodded in thankful agreement.  "What do
we tell Krycek?"

"Nothing, unless he asks.  All he's interested
in at the moment is getting even with his old
boss.  I'll deal with Krycek if the need arises. 
I've done it before, I can do it again."

"Damn straight she can," she heard Frohike
mumble as she walked through the door.


**********


Washington D. C.
January 29, 2001
6:30 p.m.


Behind the door was her future.  She and Eliza
waited patiently under the curious gazes of the
Guardsmen that flanked the elevator.

Eliza had been wrong back in the bus station. 
It had hurt, the worst form of torture Julia had
ever experienced.  The physical pain had not
bothered her; it was a mere discomfort compared
to the emotional humiliation she'd had to
endure.


**********


Fourteen hours earlier


Julia never left the building as Laura escorted
her to the sixth floor.  She found out it was
called 'The Infirmary,' although she didn't see
any sick or injured in the cubicles lined up
against the walls.  Eliza was made to wait
outside the main treatment area, much to her
relief.  Julia didn't want her back there,
anyway.  The less Eliza knew about Julia, the
better.

Laura followed the medical personnel surrounding
Julia into a large chamber off from the main
treatment area, murmuring what were supposed to
be calming words.  Julia tuned her out quickly,
the roar of unwelcome fear in her brain blocking
all sound very efficiently.

She tried to overcome her fear, though,
observing all she could in the makeshift
hospital.  But there was nothing to see.  No
patients, no testing, no laboratory.  The walls
were lined with filing cabinets and stainless
steel wardrobe cases.  She doubted anything of
any significance went on here.

They would be foolish to house the
administrators in the same building where a
chance of viral contamination existed.  But that
didn't mean the labs weren't nearby; her guess
was they were in one of the other cloaked
buildings.  But which one?

However, *one* important piece of equipment
hummed nearby, and Julia's eyes darted to it for
a pleased second before looking away.

A computer.  She tucked the image away, filing
it for future use.

A short, white-coated man was vigorously
scrubbing his hands at the sink in the corner. 
He didn't even look up at their arrival. 
Obviously, he was to work on her.  If he was
even a doctor.  A shiver ran up her spine at the
thought that he quite possibly wasn't.

Her musings were cut short by the two nurses,
one of whom barked at her to undress.  She
blanched when she saw the examining table.  It
was something she'd seen before, in flashbacks
and dreams she'd never acknowledged as the
truth.  The truth came to her in a rush as she
looked at the shiny stirrups and velcro
restraining straps.

Her eyes shifted nervously to and from the
bindings.

"We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, dear,"
Laura said.  "In addition to the muting
procedure, you will also undergo sterilization."

Sterilization?  Just how fast did they work? 
She knew that women could be sterilized these
days in an outpatient capacity; all it involved
was the severing of the fallopian tubes.  But it
was laproscopic surgery nonetheless, an incision
had to be made.  Which meant time to heal.  And
she didn't see any surgical instruments
prepared.

"Painless, my dear, though we will sedate you,"
Laura supplied, seeing her curious gaze and
misinterpreting it for panic.  "The colonists
have taught us a great deal.  All incisions are
minimal and immediately healed with no scarring.
Isn't that right, doctor?"

The balding man in the corner grunted
impatiently, then turned back to the sink to
finish prepping.

Julia felt anger temporarily replace the fear. 
She'd wanted to shout to this haughty woman that
she was already sterile, thanks to the men that
now lived liked royalty.  But she wouldn't give
them that satisfaction; let them find out for
themselves.

Laura's eyes hardened to ice blue chips.  "We
have to make sure, dear.  Wouldn't want any
unwanted pregnancy, now would we?"

Sorrow tore through Julia.  A picture of a sandy
haired toddler, framed by birthday balloons,
came to the forefront.  She'd had to leave it
behind in the rush to escape.  Many of her
memories were abandoned in her mad journey out
of the city that horrible day.

What followed were several interminable hours of
poking and prodding, during which time Julia
never once cried out, even though the doctor was
not gentle with her.  Especially with the pelvic
exam.  Julia was tiny, and the feel of his
fingers inside her could only have been likened
to the pain and humiliation of rape.

"She's in good shape," he'd said to Laura at the
end of the exam, then turned to Julia with
narrowed eyes.  "No venereal disease, no anemia,
not even head lice.  Were you a test subject?"

Julia nodded, unable to even give voice to the
finality of his words.

"Excellent," Laura purred, though Julia knew
Eliza had told them about Julia's status
already.  But Laura looked like the type that
needed reassurance, and the doctor had just
given it to her.  "You, my dear, are saving us
lots of time."

Laura could hardly contain her excitement. 
Julia knew the sooner she was in place, the
sooner Laura would earn her bonus.  The
Appointing Authority was obviously extremely
generous when he was pleased.

The only time she became really nervous was when
they took an inordinate amount of time
scrutinizing her x-rays.

"There's an implant here." He held up the film
and brushed a gnarly hand just below the space
between her eyes.  Then he picked up another and
pointed out, "And here," his fingers skimming
the white line of her vertebrae at the base of
her neck.

Laura mused over the pictures for a second
before replying.  "Julia was a test subject, she
confirmed it herself.  Priority One, actually,
from what Eliza told me.  That would account for
the implants."

"You said the Appointing Authority was pleased
with her?"

"Extremely."

"Well, I suppose we can let it go.  Although if
she begins to exhibit signs of implant rejection
we'll have to pull her, you know that."

"I know," Laura agreed reluctantly.  "Let's just
hope it doesn't come to that, okay?"  She looked
pointedly at Julia.

Julia knew that a certain percentage of the test
subjects experienced 'implant rejection.'  Many
developed violent, irrational behavior; they
were put down immediately, like unwanted
animals.

"So, Julia," the doctor wheezed, "are you one of
the lucky ones?  Will you live forever?"

She closed her eyes on his sarcastic smile.  No,
she wouldn't.  One of the chips he'd pointed out
would soon do its job - it was only a matter of
time now.

The last procedures were done under mild general
anesthetic.  When she woke, she felt no
different.  She wondered if they'd discovered
she was sterile, then decided not to ask.  What
did it matter anyway?  Her ova was missing;
unless they were looking specifically for that,
they wouldn't have found it.  They would have
just gone ahead with the procedure as planned.

She may not have felt different, but she soon
discovered she *was* different, after opening
her mouth to test her voice.  She could no
longer speak.  She'd assumed the nerve to her
vocal cords had been severed in some way, but
the actual procedure had apparently not involved
invasive surgery, just like the sterilization. 
A vague tickle in the back of her throat was the
only reminder now.  That, and the swelling in
her chest of a million words that could now
never be spoken.

<I was born on February 23, 1964.>

<I had a mother and father once....>

<I'm fine.>

She was fine, now.  She would soon complete her
mission.

<Mulder, it's me.>


**********


6:35 p.m.


A soundless sob broke from her lips.  That
wouldn't do, no sir.  Stop it, Julia.  Beyond
that door is the man you....

He's not Mulder.  He's the Minister of Justice.

Eliza stopped her pacing long enough to step up
behind her.  "Julia?  What's wrong?  I thought
this was what you wanted?"

I thought so, too, her heart wept.  Her eyes,
however, met Eliza's with calm determination. 
She smiled and made a circle out of her thumb
and forefinger.  Okay.  I'm okay.

The loud rap of voices through the door made
them both back away from it.

"I *told* you I didn't want another one!"

Dear Lord, Julia thought, her heart seizing in
her chest.  She'd know that voice anywhere.

"Fox, I really think you're going to like this
one."

Cancerman.  Although now he held the esteemed
title of 'Appointing Authority.'  It made no
difference.  A chicken in peacock feathers was
still a chicken.

"Like the last one, who was so repulsed by me
she killed herself?  Or the one before that, who
fucking nearly killed me?  Or should I say,
nearly killed me while fucking me?"

So it was true.  Eliza and Julia looked at one
another in shock.  As long as it had been a
rumor, it wasn't quite so frightening.  Hard
facts, on the other hand, were more terrifying,
the stuff nightmares were made of.

"Fox, there's something you're not considering
here...." The voice lowered to a murmur.  They
could no longer hear what he was saying to
Mulder.

"I think he's calming him down," Eliza whispered
shakily.  "Here, let's take a final look - it'll
be any moment now."  She turned Julia to face
the gilded mirror at the end of the hall.

Julia was pale and the champagne colored
lipstick did not help matters any.  Though she
had to admit to herself that she'd never looked
better.  The weeks spent with Eliza had worked
wonders for her sagging health.  She was toned
and lean; her physical well-being rivaled days
past, when she worked out daily at the gym.  The
golden satin dress draped low in the front and
plunged modestly in the back.  Her arms were
bare and if not for the blast of heat from the
vent above, she was sure she'd be sporting
gooseflesh.

She walked toward the mirror and unwillingly
admired the way the material of the dress clung
to her hips and thighs before falling to the
floor.  The cling of the fabric prevented her
from wearing underwear; besides, what escort
would wear underwear?  Just one more thing that
stood between him and his pleasure.

But no shoes.  Eliza had simply raised a brow
when Julia had motioned to her feet in the midst
of preparations.  "We can't have you running
away, now can we, dear?"

She felt truly naked without shoes.  For years,
the heels had been empowering, raising her to
equality in a man's world.  Sadness descended
upon Julia as she realized just how enslaved she
had become.  Barefoot and dressed to please. 
Women brought to an all-time low, living again
in almost medieval times.

"You look fabulous," Eliza breathed.  "Simply
gorgeous.  He's going to love you."

Julia crossed her fingers and waved them in
front of Eliza, hoping she'd added enough
twinkle in her eye to satisfy her friend.

"We're ready for you."

The two women snapped around at the voice. 
Laura stood in the open doorway, a trickle of
smoke seeping through above her head.  She
raised a brow and pursed her lips as if to say -
*now.*

"Good luck, Julia."  Eliza gave her a quick peck
on the cheek and moved back, but not before
brushing her thumb in a final cleanup.  "There -
perfect."

Yes, Julia thought, everything's perfect.  Just
what the Underground wanted.  A mole steps away
from the Appointing Authority, poised to bring
about his downfall.

Just what I wanted.

Fox Mulder's head on a silver platter.



End Chapter Five