From: mrkeller829@gmail.com   
      
   =====o============================o=====   
   "Chermera" by Mary Ruth Keller Part 38  of 45   
   E-mail: mrkeller@eclipse.net, mrkeller829@gmail.com   
   PG-13   X-File: Myth-arc   Disclaimed in Part I   
   Already sent to Gossamer   
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   Suola di Atene   
   Cambridge, England   
   Sunday, July, 19, 1998   
   8:17 am   
      
   "You must wear this one, Atrebates." Ap Gwinn was holding a grey-cowled robe   
   toward Mulder. "You have the right to enter, as none other of your colleagues,   
   but the Riata, do."   
      
   "Sheesh." The dark-haired agent grimaced at the thick wool. "I stayed as far   
   away from this stuff as I could at Oxford. Plenty of creative anachronisms   
   there." As he slipped into the deep sleeves, he sighed. {This one's for you,   
   Scully.} After engaging    
   the clasp at his throat, he reached back for the hood.   
      
   "No need to hide your face, Atrebates. You will be greeted eagerly." The Cymru   
   removed the silver rising sun from the right shoulder. "This was your Father's   
   garment, but, you do not walk beside the Slav. You have the signal honor of   
   attending on the    
   Riata." He was affixing a bronze half sun with twenty wavy rays in its place.   
      
   Mulder rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. We've had our chat at the Pony. I'm here   
   to rescue my partner, so let's get started."   
      
   Ap Gwinn's lips curved. "All is not as it seems, Atrebates. The form of one   
   thing often conceals the fact of another. You have seen much in your   
   investigations that tells you the same is true without the Suola as well as   
   within." He grasped the lever of    
   the door handle. "Follow me." With a twist, he pushed the barrier aside. As   
   they proceeded, the Cymru raised both arms. "We are many, we are one! The   
   Atrebates of the Riata is come into the Ekklesia!"   
      
   The whoosh of robes sliding off thirty-eight seats was followed by an echo of   
   the incantation and extended applause from the Fellowship, some in black and   
   some in grey.   
      
   Mulder found himself being embraced, touched by unseen hands, smiles and nods   
   appearing before his eyes. 'Brother! Brother!' sounded in his ears, whispered   
   by some, shouted by others. After initially feeling smothered, the dark-haired   
   agent was surprised    
   by how comforted he felt to be in the center of the assembly. If {Not if,   
   when, G-man} this worked, he would have a whole new list of teasing names to   
   throw at his partner during their debates. Two pairs of arms guided him to a   
   spot along the wall, close    
   to the front. The empty high seat, with its gilded finials and chalk banner,   
   stood in front of him.   
      
   The Cymru had ascended the dais, his arms still raised. "Brothers and Sisters,   
   I come to you to redress a grievous error we in the Fellowship have committed."   
      
   The Aborigine strode forward. "The Tribuno deceived us, did he not?"   
      
   "I feared it would be so." The Suebi was standing in front of his seat. "He   
   was too eager to apply Gradus Absoluta. He is all of war, none of reason. He   
   opposes the good offices of the Riata."   
      
   The Pict was leaning on his lion. "She was not offered the choice?"   
      
   The Cymru lowered his arms. "She was not. You have heard, no doubt, of the   
   events at the Embassy in Washington. I was gassed along with all the others."   
      
   The Mughal shook his turbaned head. "He has attempted to break the Fellowship.   
   That must not be permitted. Any action he promoted must be terminated."   
      
   Mulder snorted as he stepped forward. "Yeah, yeah, E Pluribus Unum, we are   
   whatever. We don't have all morning to decide how best to drop a whispering   
   demon-possessed ring in a volcano. I need to get to my partner before my   
   Father's killer puts a bullet    
   in her brain, too."   
      
   "You are your Father's Son, Atrebates. He was all action." The Suebi drew   
   himself up fully. "I deeply regret bringing that vulture among us. We know   
   what we must do. The Council of Ten must reassemble and deliberate. We must   
   rescind our vote."   
      
   The Slav strode over to stand beside him. "There is no question. I should have   
   had the wisdom to foresee the outcome of my decision. I have witnessed   
   behaviors over the past seventy-two hours I have not seen since the Communists   
   gave up control over my    
   country. I change my vote to persuasion. It is now eight of the ten in   
   agreement."   
      
   Ap Gwinn stepped off the dais. "Then, Brother Pict, Brother Suebi, Atrebates,   
   we must return. We have evil work to undo, and quickly."   
      
   --o-0-o--   
      
   Unknown place   
   Unknown time   
      
   Dana Scully's first sensation on awakening this day was of throbbing, of dull   
   pain. She lay still, trying to localize it, to determine its severity, but the   
   ache was all over her body. With a gasp, she remembered the pummeling of the   
   previous afternoon.    
   Her head both burned and itched, a single touch revealing why: a new wig had   
   been affixed to her scalp. {No ringlets of curls.} Her hair felt more like it   
   had when she was in college; one glance down at the faded jeans, UMD   
   sweatshirt, and running shoes    
   told that was exactly the stage of her life to be parodied today. {Today when   
   I try to escape, at least I won't fall.}   
      
   She rolled out of bed, quickly surveying the barred windows, {Ground level.   
   Those must be original.} the NSync and Hansen posters {Really? That's a miss.}   
   until she spotted the bathroom door. Relieve, clean, drink. As she left, she   
   noted the sharp edge    
   of the door latch. {That will do.} A third parallel line reddened her arm.   
   There was no activity yet, so she had time to plan. She quickly made up the   
   bed, just because; then, in these more comfortable clothes, put herself   
   through warm-up, stretching,    
   and isotonic exercises, her only tools for pain relief. Finally, she settled   
   at the creaking student desk by the window to think the day through. If they   
   held to their past pattern, they would be attempting to excoriate her for   
   giving the right answers    
   to Physics questions, but, there, she could at least control the pace and   
   timing of the negative reinforcement.   
      
   {I'll take a page out of your book, Mulder, giving them a silent, baffling   
   lecture that will leave their heads spinning.} Her forehead creased. Why did   
   she think of her partner right then? Was the coercive persuasion becoming more   
   effective as the    
   charade approached the years of her working life? Or, was it just that she was   
   preparing for the mental sparring at which he was so adept, that intellectual   
   thrust and parry they had engaged in so very, very often? A crack of paint   
   separating from paint    
   turned her attention back to the entrance to the room.   
      
   "Hey, you'll be late, come'on!" It was one of the grey-cowled 'boys'   
   pretending to be annoyed.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)