Mulder awoke to chanting. Some kind of…Klingon verse?
Ka ve Ko-le-Ko
Ye' toCha MaLo
He rubbed his eyes, and drank in the site before him. The entire crew of the Tartus, still in dress uniforms, had formed a circle. And one by one, blue light engulfed them. Admiral Flint was still there, as was the Klingon, but several children had already disappeared.
Mulder dove to try to stop it, but found that he was handcuffed to the railing again. "Damn it!" He yelled, but no one turned around. "Stop! They're just kids! Let them go!" He screamed.
They acted as if they couldn't hear him. Finally, only two remained. Admiral Flint looked at Mo'Kor and said, "The time is at hand, Chancellor. I don't know if we'll see each other again, if the Klingon High Council beams you directly to a Bird of Prey, but it has been an honor serving with you."
"I agree, Admiral. It has indeed been an honor," Mo'Kor said. Without warning, the two vanished into blue, sparkly air. Then Mulder heard a noise. A rumble.
"Oh, Shit," he said, just as the ceiling came down on him.
"Reports of the collapse of an abandoned underground bunker have rocked the state. It is now confirmed that there were at least eight people, possibly more, who were illegally occupying the bunker when it collapsed. Sources indicate that amongst them was an undercover FBI agent, attempting to stop the cult from harming abducted children. Those rumors have not been confirmed, but the FBI has arrived on the scene."
The reporter turned when the cameraman indicated someone was approaching, and then beamed, "In fact," she said, "A person with an FBI jacket is approaching now. Ma'am, can we ask you a few questions."
"No comment," Scully said sharply, and continued walking.
"Is it true that an FBI agent was trapped in the bunker?"
"No comment," Scully said more forcefully.
"Why are you wearing a Starfleet uniform?"
Losing her temper, Scully said, "So I can attract little naked Ferengi posers at an F---ing Star Trek convention!"
The reporter stood, stunned, as Scully walked away.
"Can we air that?" The cameraman asked.
The reporter turned to him, and still shocked, said, "Absolutely."
Scully ran toward the collapsed ground, and flashed her badge at an officer who looked at her attire curiously. She approached the SAC for North Dakota's field office, and demanded, "Are you in charge?"
"Yes, Agent Jordan, at your service."
Scully shook the man's hand. "My partner's somewhere down there. Are you picking up infrared signatures?"
"We don't have a portable infrared scanner, Agent Scully. This isn't Washington D.C. We're doing this the slow way."
"Then hand me a shovel," Scully demanded, half sarcastically.
"We can't let you go in there. We have trained relief personnel working right now. I wasn't notified you had the credentials to perform this kind of rescue operation. We're looking at eleven or more people trapped under there."
"It's more than eleven. Every estimate you have is wrong. I have information for you, and you're not gonna get it until you let me go in there."
"I can't let you do that. But Agent Scully, you can't withhold information—"
"It's my damn partner in there!" Scully yelled.
"That doesn't mean I can let you risk your life—"
Scully didn't give him the chance to continue. She stormed over to the station where rescue personnel were donning knee and elbow pads, and picking up flashlights and hard hats. She was just about to suit herself up when she saw someone being carried up a makeshift ladder, and handed off to firefighters. He was stooped over, holding an oxygen mask to his face, but walking and very much alive.
Scully ran as quickly as she could, holding her breath until she saw it was really Mulder. And when she spotted the unmistakable, however dirty, Starfleet uniform he was wearing, she yelled, "Mulder!" in delight. Mulder looked up, his eyes at half mast, and smiled through the oxygen mask. The rescue worker put him down gently on a gurney, and a paramedic began examining him.
"Mulder where are the others?" Scully demanded as she crowded the paramedic's space, practically doing his job for him. She shone a light in Mulder's eyes, checked the mild cuts and scrapes she could find, and awaited his answer.
"They beamed up," Mulder said.
Scully stared at him, and then looked at the paramedic. "He needs to get to a hospital. He's obviously got a concussion—" Mulder grabbed her arm, and shook his head. "What, Mulder?" She asked.
"I'm not delusional. They beamed up, I saw it. Right before the building collapsed. Scully—I was handcuffed. When they found me, I was in the only pocket with air, far away from any spot to handcuff me. Explain that."
"I…Mulder, I can't guarantee what you say is true. You took a hit to the head. That much is obvious," she said, gently fingering the scrape on his forehead. "You could have imagined anything you saw."
"I didn't imagine this."
"Put that oxygen mask back on." Only when he obeyed, did she continue. "Did you see the children, Mulder?"
"All of them. And the Hermenez's, and the leaders of the Beamers. They left, Scully."
"Where did they go?"
Mulder pointed up, and Scully rolled her eyes. She pushed him back on the gurney and said to the paramedic, "Take him to the hospital. I'm coming with you."
The paramedic didn't even begin to argue with the strange, temperamental FBI agent with a very attractive Starfleet uniform on. He hopped in the back with her and her partner instead, and said, "Let's move," to the driver in the front.
He couldn't help sneaking a peak down that low-cut uniform the agent was wearing, but she didn't notice. She was holding her partner's hand, despite his annoyed glances at her, and seemed oblivious to the rest of the world around her.
Mulder slipped his dirty Starfleet uniform back on, adjusting his communicator so it was perfectly straight, and exited his hospital room. He had been discharged pretty quickly after the ER doctor confirmed that his only ailment, smoke inhalation, was clearing up nicely and that it was safe for him to leave. His cuts and scrapes were superficial, and he enjoyed rubbing it in Scully's face that he did not have a concussion.
They left together, and headed directly to the airport.
"So the kids were abducted again," Scully concluded. "The Beamers must have escaped with them and taken them to another location."
"I know what I saw, Scully."
"What you saw is absolutely ridiculous."
"That's what I thought before I saw it."
They walked past a few shops, and approached security. They didn't notice at first, but then Mulder heard the distinct tune and turned his head. They were standing next to a Sci-Fi shop, complete with action figures, model spaceships, and merchandise from every science fiction television show imaginable.
The tune to The Next Generation was on a loop, and they could hear it clearly right outside the door. Mulder looked at Scully, and smiled. "You know, Scully, I was gonna wait until we got back to tell you this, but…I bought you a jumpsuit, too. You can wear it tomorrow to the rest of the convention."
Scully's expression was indescribable for a moment. Then, she exploded. "You mean to tell me you sent me across the country in this damn miniskirt when I could've been in a jumpsuit!? Mulder!"
Mulder smirked. Just then, the television just outside the shop turned to the news, and they both recognized Scully's voice. "So I can attract little naked Ferengi posers at a Fing Star Trek convention!"
Mulder's eyebrows went up, and he grinned at Scully. "My, my, G-woman, I think you've finally grasped the Star Trek spirit."
Scully was the picture of embarrassment, her cheeks flushed as she rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger.
Mulder placed his index finger gently under her chin, and raised her head to look at him. "May I have this dance?"
Scully's eyebrow went up, but then promptly went down, and she said, "Mulder, I think if we were to boogie right here, it would be the most normal thing that's happened today."
"I think you're right," Mulder said, and they began to dance to the tune of Gene Roddenberry's show, as the Enterprise-D zoomed off into the distance.