"It's aliens."
“It’s not aliens, Mulder.” Scully retorted, sweeping the beam of her flashlight across the deserted park. Someone had called in suspicious activity--something about heavy wind and lights in the sky. "It's never aliens."
"Lights in the sky are one of the most classic tells," Mulder argued, angling his own light into the grass. "If there's smoke, there's fire. Plus a heavy wind? In the middle of San Francisco? Localized to the Golden Gate Park?"
She rolled her eyes. "Not all fires come from little alien engines."
"No, look at this," he insisted. "This indentation in the grass over there. It's weird." He began to walk toward it, his long legs eating up the ground.
Scully glanced his way, unimpressed. "That could be anything. Someone set up a volleyball court too hard." She resumed her casual study of the trees, off to the left.
Mulder didn't reply. Uncharacteristic. Scully looked over again, and--
"Fox!"
He was lying crumpled on the ground.
Scully was an expert at running in heels. She was by his side in no time. She knelt down, training the flashlight on his face. A cut was dripping blood down the side of his forehead.
"Mulder," he murmured. "It's Mulder."
He was awake, at least. Scully swallowed her initial distress and put on a business-like air. "What happened?"
He waved a hand vaguely. "Air's solid."
"Air isn't solid."
"This air is." This time his hand moved further before stopping abruptly. Scully heard a thud.
"I don't understand," she said, reaching out one hand tentatively herself. "Are you talking about some kind of electromagnetic field?"
"It's a wall," he replied, sounding drowsy. "An invisible wall."
Scully's searching fingers found--solid. She stroked along it. It was cold and had the distinct texture of metal.
"I don't understand," she said again, mostly to herself. "It's a trick of the light. It has to be."
She found herself reaching for her sidearm.
Bright light spilled over her from above, and her arm jerked upward to shield her eyes. "What?!"
A door was taking shape a few feet up and to the right. She squinted at it, uncomprehending.
"A wall," Mulder repeated happily. "'S got a door and everything."
Three figures resolved in the doorway. They began to float--or, no, to walk?--down. Scully had dropped her flashlight, but she fumbled for it with one hand and unholstered her pistol with the other.
"There's no need for that," one of the figures said. They were at the bottom of the invisible ramp now. As the three of them turned toward Scully, she swept her flashlight across their faces. Three men, one of them a little shorter than the others. They were wearing some kind of uniform, though in two different colors. One of them, in blue, had some kind of square device in his hand.
But it was the other one dressed in blue that Scully had a hard time taking her eyes off of. His face was wrong. Human-like, but different. Dark eyebrows swept dramatically up above his eyes. Pointed ears curved up along his temples. His face was emotionless.
The yellow-shirted one was smiling. He was the one who had initially spoken. "It looks like your friend is a little out of it. Can my doctor take a look at him?"
"I--I suppose so," Scully said, finding herself at a loss for words.
"Bones," the man who seemed to be the leader of the group said, "go ahead and patch him up. I don't want to leave anyone worse off than they were when we leave."
Bones (what an odd name for a man) strode forward briskly, holding his rectangular object. Scully put out a hand. "Don't bring that thing near him."
He ignored her. "This is a tricorder. I can see from here that he's bleeding, but he's probably concussed."
"An alien," Mulder said, wonderingly.
"I'm a doctor, not an alien," Bones retorted acerbically. "Now, Spock over there is as alien as they come." He moved Scully to the side, not ungently, and knelt over Mulder's prone body.
"Half alien," the other blue-shirted man corrected. His tone was as emotionless as his face. "My mother was a human. My father was a Vulcan. Admiral, a concussion is far from fatal. There is no reason to compromise our camouflage."
"Nonsense, Spock." The admiral smiled at Scully. "You heard them. They were looking for us. Why, they found us. We might as well have a chat."
Spock tilted his head. "Jim."
"Perhaps they'll know something about whales," the admiral--Jim?--added.
Scully was not keeping up with this discussion. "Whales? Like the mammal?"
"Ah! I see you're educated. Many people of this time seem to consider them fish."
"Illogical, as they are warm-blooded and nurse their young," Spock murmured. "They are clearly not fish."
"Yes, well." Jim extended a hand to Scully, and she realized that she was still kneeling on the ground. Defiantly, she rose by herself.
He retracted the hand, still smiling. "How is the patient, Bones?"
"He's concussed, Jim," the doctor replied. "It's not brain surgery, but I'd like to keep him under observation for the next day or so."
Jim seemed delighted by the news. "Then I will invite you to accompany me into the ship, Miss--"
Scully realized that she had not introduced herself. "Special Agent Scully," she replied. "And this is Special Agent Mulder. I'm with the FBI."
"The FBI," Jim said, sounding thoughtful. "Weren't they something to do with food inspection?"
"You are thinking of the FDA, Jim," Spock corrected. "The FBI were one of the American government's primary security and law enforcement agencies."
Jim's smile fell slightly, but then it brightened again and he clapped his hands together. "Well then, I'll have to introduce you to Pavel. You can share security tips."
"I haven't said I would come aboard," Scully said, feeling the need to exert some agency. "If Mulder is concussed, I should take him to a hospital."
Bones made an extremely rude sound from where he now stood, having gotten up. "A hospital? In the 20th century? They'll butcher him. Absolutely not. No patient of mine would be caught dead in a hospital."
Scully dug in her (metaphorical, seeing as her literal heels were already quite well dug into the grass) heels. "I don't know you from Adam," she insisted. "Why should I trust you with Mulder?"
"Jim," Bones said, with a meaningful glance at Jim.
"Doctor McCoy," Spock began, with a meaningful glance at Bones.
Jim ignored them both. "He will be in the best hands here," he assured Scully. "I would trust Bones with my life. Indeed, on many occasions, he has saved many of my crew, including myself and Captain Spock."
Spock's meaningful glance was now directed at Jim, but it was a different flavor. These men are very important to each other, Scully decided.
But it was time to start putting the puzzle pieces together. "Captain?" she asked. "Admiral?"
Jim beamed. "Yes! Welcome to the--well, this isn't the Enterprise." The smile faded again. "Welcome to this Klingon warbird. I am Admiral James T. Kirk, and this is, er, Captain Spock. We are Starfleet officers."
"Starfleet," Scully repeated. "And you're from--where, exactly?"
"Earth," Jim replied, at the same time as Spock said "Vulcan."
"Earth doesn't have a Starfleet," she protested.
Jim held up a finger. "Earth of today doesn't have a Starfleet. Earth of the twenty-third century?"
If it weren't for the door open in the sky, Scully would have laughed in his face. "Time travel? And aliens?"
"Alien," Jim said. "Singular. Half, really, on his father's side. Shall we?" He gestured in the direction of what, if Scully remembered correctly, was an invisible ramp.
Mulder would never forgive me if I said no, she thought, with a sigh. "Might as well, if the truth is in there."
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