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.Feather Files	By : keithcompany Category: S through Z > X-Files Views: 2795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Files, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: This work is my own. Do not repost this story beyond the limits of the Fair Use standards of Copyright Law (quotes, examples, ‘you gotta read this’ excerpts, the usual).
The author is not making any kind of profit from this story.
This story contributes to the Featherstone cycle, which includes Therapy I and II, Reno 9.1, Pygmy and Pygmies, Reversal and Re-Reversal, Dolly and Dolled.
-----Scully entered the gymnasium with the general flow of agents. Mulder was already inside, standing at the small podium under the basketball hoop. Thirty folding chairs leaned against the wall behind him. A screen on the wall was illuminated by the computer projector beside the podium. Right now it was blank.
Sixty or seventy federal agents milled about on the court, and more were still streaming in. As usual, everyone was making small talk and jokes about what sort of task force this was created for.
Scully noticed that there was a distinct reaction when they saw that her partner was evidently in charge of this meeting. Some laughed more, joked about a search for Bigfoot. Some of them, though, laughed less.
Mulder gave her a small nod when they made eye contact. She moved to stand at one end of the three-point line and waited.
One of the senior agents in the room came to stand next to her, with another nod. “Agent Scully.”
“Agent Fornell.” He was coldly professional, but he was always like that. He’d never teased her or Mulder about their work on the X-Files. Dana wondered if he took them seriously, or if he just had no sense of humor.
He turned to face Mulder and assumed a patient stance. Meanwhile, several agents were checking their watches. Eventually, Mulder decided to start.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I’m Special Agent Fox Mulder. For those of you that don’t know me, I have something of a reputation.” He scanned the assembled agents, finally gesturing towards a tall man standing near the entry.
“Cantrell. You’ve always been kind of vocal about me. Care to share with the group?”
“Sure.” Cantrell turned to address the largest number of agents. “This is ‘Spooky’ Fox Mulder. He works in the basement. He investigates UFO’s and ghosts. He managed to turn a Head of State protection detail into a search for Bigfoot.”
Dana watched Mulder shake his head with a wry grin. That was a story she’d never heard…yet. Cantrell continued. “If He’s involved, it’s going to be something minimally in touch with reality, and way on the fringe.”
Some of the younger agents looked at Mulder with odd expressions, making the connection between the man and the stories. A slight murmur of conversation grew. Mulder started to raise his hand to regain control.
Scully was startled when Fornell stepped forward, hand raised.
“He has another reputation, everyone.” The room spun to face the new speaker. “When Mulder worked in Violent Crimes, he faced down a serial killer on his own, because the task leader discounted his theory. He was right, he was willing to risk his life for his convictions, and he was successful. If anyone here remembers the High Rise Killer, this is the man that brought him in.”
Fornell nodded to Mulder and stepped back to stand beside Scully. Once more, agents looked at Mulder with a new appreciation. Mulder nodded thanks to Fornell, turned back to the crowd.
“As a matter of fact, that’s why I got this task force. From both reputations. We’re looking for a very different sort of criminal. I’m the only agent in the building that they were sure would take the job, the evidence, and the threat seriously, and also would have the best possible chance of success.” He pointed to the chairs behind him.
“They’ve assigned me thirty agents. But rather than pick them, then replace them when they stormed out, I asked to pitch the force to all available personnel.” He pointed to the doorway. “Anyone wants to leave, at any time, you’re welcome to. In fact, I encourage it. Last thirty personnel in the room are on the force until we’re done.”
No one moved. Mulder looked around like he was trying to look every agent in the eye. “There are no repercussions for walking out. No threats, no marks on your record. No one here has been assigned to the TF yet, so there’ll be no entry about why you-“
Cantrell and the two agents standing beside him swept out of the room. Mulder waved. “Thanks for coming, Cantrell! Well, at least he heard me out.”
A noise drew his and Scully’s attention to a spot beside her. Fornell had two folding chairs he was setting down on the floor. He took one and looked a question at Dana. “I assume you’re staying?” She sat beside him with a soft thank you.
“Anyway,” Mulder went on, “we’re after an individual that has begun drawing attention to himself.” He touched the keyboard on the podium. Behind him the face of a handsome man loomed.
"Doctor Paul Victor Featherstone." As Mulder spoke, a number of pictures of Featherstone were displayed. Most were from security badges. Dana was sure that the assembled agents were noting the high-powered, high-tech companies the man had worked for, as much as they noted the face.
It was a friendly face, with movie star qualities. He was suave and striking, with warm eyes, a winning smile, a cleft chin. Dana and her partner had argued for a while about whether he looked more like Sean Connery or Roger Moore. It seemed to depend on who was Bond when you grew up.
The upshot was, this man could get right up next to you before you started to worry.
“He’s been employed by the government,” Mulder was saying, “a number of times. His first degree was in physics, but he also has substantial knowledge in various aspects of molecular biology, automation, computing, communications theory, and engineering diagnostics. He was well on the way to becoming the next Rudy Wells.” For the last sentence, Mulder assumed a tone of voice that Scully associated with jokes that went over her head.
This one did, too. Some of the older agents smiled, though. Two of them walked over to select chairs and join Fernell.
“His Secret security clearance passed with no problems. His Top Secret upgrade, though, brought greater background scrutiny.” A new face appeared on the screen, a thin blonde male. “He apparently has had contact with this man: Julian Sark.”
As soon as the face appeared, a ripple of recognition went through several of the agents. Most of those that seemed to know who he was immediately moved to take chairs.
“Sark is an international terrorist who has attracted the attention of the FBI, CIA, Interpol, and a host of foreign law enforcement agencies. If he is interested in the technology that Featherstone may be able to offer –“
A tall woman across the room from Dana raised her hand to get Mulder’s attention.
“Just what is the technology, Fox?” The casual use of her partner’s first name drew significant attention from Dana. He didn’t even let his parents call him by that name. She tried to get a better view of the other agent, but couldn’t make out her face.
“I was getting to that, Till,” Mulder assured her. Dana was still trying to get a good look when Fornell leaned over to whisper.
“That’s Tilly Monroe. Another veteran of Violent Crimes. If you ever need really major backup, and the 101st Airborne is busy, you could do worse than call Till.”
Up at the screen, Mulder was calling attention to a new picture. A cow was showing, standing in a small room, but something about it was oddly off. It took a moment for most people to see what was wrong. Everything on one side of the animal was slightly larger than on the other side: legs, hip, ear, teats, even the animal’s face was slightly deformed.
“This cow was the subject of an experiment. We’re not sure what the experiment was meant to do, but it appeared to change Bessy’s scale.” He clicked the keyboard. The picture expanded to show that the room the cow was in was a box. A quarter was on the floor next to the beast.
Dana remembered making an estimate of the animal’s height based on the coin. She knew the other agents were performing the same calculations. On face after face, eyes bugged at the realization that the cow was about three inches tall.
“I assure you,” Mulder said, after giving them a moment to evaluate the image, “the picture is not a hoax. I’ve seen the cow. It died of complications from being shrunk, but it’s clearly a cow. Other examples of the technology –“
Everyone turned to a new voice, rising to interrupt Mulder’s presentation. Agent Rossi had barked a laugh and raised his hand. Without waiting for acknowledgement, though, he started talking.
“So, we’re here to stop a Mad Scientist from selling a shrink ray to international terrorists?” He looked around the group. Dana suspected Rossi was trying to see who thought it was as funny as he did. Or who thought HE was as funny as he thought he was.
“I mean, why bother? If they shrink themselves, they can slip through security, but then it’ll be like something out of a Tom and Jerry cartoon: tiny terrorists running around shooting people in the ankles. What do we do, wear thick boots and carry flyswatters?”
Scully watched her partner smile and nod as a giggle or two ran through the assembled agents.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “that’s the likeliest scenario. Or, maybe, just maybe, it’s reversible shrinking. So once they’ve slipped through security, they stand up tall and shoot you in the eye.” The giggles stopped as if a switch had been thrown.
“Or, someone swims up the Saint Mary’s river, and shrinks a Trident Submarine to the size of a golf bag. Then they smuggle 24 nuclear tipped weapons out of the country in the trunk of a Chevy.” Mulder stared at Rossi while the comedian reddened, driving home the point that this was a credible threat.
“Or, anarchists shrink one or all parties’ national conventions and let ‘fat cats’ onto the floor. On national television.
“Or, an animal rights activist shrinks all the people at McDonald’s corporate offices and lets a barrel of gopher snakes loose in the building.” At this point, Mulder stopped concentrating on Rossi, turning to make sure all the agents still standing understood his point.
“Then there’s the chance a Mafia hit man can hide in a special prosecutor’s hair until he meets with a Protected Witness. Or a fundamentalist shrinks the Gay Pride float in a parade, watching them get stomped to death by the marching band behind them.
“Imagine trying to arrest everyone in a terrorist cell when they can make their escape tunnel with a ¾ inch drill?”
He turned back to Rossi to say, “How about if Air Force One was small enough to fit in a Diplomatic Bag? I think I saw that Tom and Jerry episode. Where Tom was keeping world leaders in an ant farm on his desk?”
No one seemed surprised or sorry to see Rossi slip out the doors. Mulder never mentioned it.
“Okay,” he went on, “Anyone joining the task force will have the chance to see the shrunken items we’ve recovered from the site. If you’re not convinced it’s real, then share your reasons. Maybe you’ll put a lot of minds to rest about the threat.
“For now, though, we’re going to operate on the theory that Featherstone has shrink tech, and that there’s a risk he’ll either sell the tech to foreign agents, or perhaps perform services at their direction.
“Our priorities,” and he swept a hand towards the growing gallery of seated agents to indicate ‘our,’ “are to acquire control of the tech, or at least limit the number of people that have it; to arrest Featherstone; and finally, if the opportunity arises, to arrest any contacts we can identify.”
He smiled to the remaining agents. “Am I the only one who read The Avengers as a kid, and wanted to grow up to arrest Mad Scientists?”
An hour later they moved out of the gym. Dana led the task members to team room. An agent from another federal agency, the mysterious Office of Scientific Investigation, waited there. Mulder introduced the Special Agent to the task force.
“Colonel Austin is our liaison to OSI. Today, as a bonus, he’s brought some of the shrunken items and specimens from the OSI collection. Examine those until you’re satisfied, then we’ll start breaking into discrete teams.”
“Why,” an agent near Scully whispered, “didn’t he bring this guy, and his evidence, to the recruiting drive?”
“Because,” Fornell replied, not bothering to whisper, “OSI interest doesn’t always enhance the subject credibility. They investigate mad doctors, telepaths, Bigfoot and the Fountain of Youth.” Both Mulder and Austin nodded to Fornell but made no comments on his remarks.
Mulder had no idea on how to find Featherstone. But he did have a clear vision on how to organize the search. One group of agents was dedicated to profiling him; another tried to find evidence of Sark being INCONUS, or any activity amongst his known or suspected financial assets. Others looked into the technology; yet another examined missing persons. Lastly, Mulder set a small group of agents to reviewing the tabloids for sightings of shrunken persons or things.
For his own part, Mulder seemed to belong to each and every group. He would swing through the offices, gathering the status of each effort with a few insightful questions, offer a suggestion or a point of contact and then move on.
Dana was certain that her partner was going to assign her to tabloids. He had that sort of a sense of humor. She could almost hear him jimmy up some sort of justification: her time on the X-Files, her ability to think outside of the box, her innate intelligence, her speed-reading…. But she suspected it would have more to do with her taking the last Choco-taco out of the vending machine.
To her relief, however, she ended up profiling Featherstone’s background. Mulder put Agent Monroe in charge of the team. After a brief fly-by introduction, Dana found herself alone with the other woman. She looked up at the taller agent and found herself under scrutiny.
“So,” Scully started, “you remind me of someone.”
Till smiled and gave a small laugh. Dana got the impression she didn’t smile much at all, at least on the job.
“A lot of people tell me that I remind them of Worf’s girlfriend on Star Trek.”
“No,” Dana replied. “But now that you mention ‘Trek,’ I figured it out: Dr. Selar, in sickbay.”
“I don’t remember her,” Monroe shrugged. “But it figures that a doctor would remember a doctor character.”
The two set to work creating a text version of Featherstone. His Background Investigation was useful, both for clues to his personality and further points of contact to flesh it out.
The more they found, the scarier the man got. Dana entered the office to find Tilly running a hand through her hair, staring at her phone.
“Seems a college roommate knew he used to torture stray animals. Never mentioned it to investigators out of shame that he didn’t try to stop him back then.”
“Why,” Dana asked, “did he mention it now?”
“Oh, he’s in AA. It’s part of the program, making up for past crimes and offenses. He told me all about it, and started to confess to cutting corners on his Master’s thesis.”
“Heaven forbid,” Dana said, shaking her head and sitting down. “What was his thesis?”The other agent shrugged. “I didn’t find out. I gave him the URL for online confessions and hung up.”
“Ladies of the Task Force,” Mulder announced at the doorway, holding a tabloid paper proudly, “I bring you what the boys down in the press office call: A Clue.”
“If you’re going to call ME a lady,” Tilly threatened, “you’d better have a flower behind that paper.”
He turned the newsprint around, to show that a page sized advertisement of some sort showed a large flower in bloom.
“Close enough,” Scully announced. She reached for the paper, noting that Monroe reached at the same time. Mulder smiled at the two of them, then revealed that he had two copies of the issue.
They both turned to the page Mulder directed. The story read that a retired school teacher had been abducted, presumably by aliens.
“’Investigators scoff,’” Tilly read aloud, “’but will not actually deny early reports of tiny little footprints at the scene.’ Well, that’s enough for me. How about you, Dana?”
Dana had called up a file on her laptop, though. The name of the teacher had sparked something in her brain. “Estelle Latham, the abductee, was Featherstone’s 12th grade English teacher. She gave him his only grade that wasn’t an A that year.”
The glint of humor in Monroe’s eye faded quickly. “Revenge would certainly fit into this guy’s character.”
“Therefore,” Mulder announced, “if you both agree that this ‘clue’ has potential, I need to find a team to send on a follow up."
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