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Kill Switch

“But the government keeps those records secret, for fear of sabotage.” “Gee, you guys know anyone that works for the government?”

If she weren’t already annoyed, she certainly would be now, watching Mulder and the Gunmen practically falling over themselves to assist their raccoon-eyed, cyberpunk goddess in distress. It wasn’t jealousy, no matter how much it may have looked like it from the outside. She just didn’t care for Esther’s attitude, had no patience for being jerked around or told she “wouldn’t understand.”

She was a goddamned medical doctor. She did not appreciate being treated like an idiot.

“All right, those would be, what, FCC records?” Mulder was asking.

Langly nodded, and Byers and Frohike followed suit like lemmings, all of them looking eagerly at Esther for approval. Scully rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I’ll go see what I can find. In the meantime, Scully, why don’t you two lay low here? This is as safe a place as any to keep Ms. Nairn confined until we have a better handle on whatever it is we’re up against.”

“You honestly believe we need to hide out from this, this computer program?”

Why were they all looking at her like she was a moron when she was apparently the only one in the room who could recognize the difference between reality and science fiction? She bristled.

“Fine. Why don’t you stay here if you’re so concerned, and I’ll go look up those records?”

“Yeah, that’s a good plan,” Esther muttered, and as Scully opened her mouth to tell the other woman just where she could stick her opinions, Mulder met her eye and tilted his head toward the back corner of the room.

“Can we have a word?”

Sighing, she followed him away from the others, then put her hands on her hips as she waited. He leaned forward so his forehead was close to hers, and he pitched his voice to nearly a whisper when he spoke.

“I don’t know what more you need to see to convince you of what we’re dealing with here, but if the strength of the evidence isn’t enough for you, then can you please trust me? Trust my judgment?”

“Mulder, you have been taken in by an elaborate ruse. We haven’t got a bit of proof for any of the fantastic claims Esther Nairn has put forth. I don’t care who she is or what game software she designed that has the four of you drooling at her feet. If there’s anything we need to watch our backs around, it’s her, not some artificial intelligence.”

“Okay, then you keep an eye on her while I go try to figure out whether or not she’s telling us the truth about this A.I. having some sort of physical nexus somewhere. Can you do that?”

She scowled as he turned and walked out, leaving the room shrouded in awkward silence as the boys stared unabashedly at Esther, who looked around the room with measured disdain. Scully folded her arms tightly across her chest, wondering how she was going to tolerate hours more of this embarrassing display. Frohike finally broke the silence by clearing his throat.

“So, who’s hungry?” he said. “I make a mean pan of chilaquiles.”

Esther raised her eyebrows. “You cook?”

“Si, mi chica bonita.”

“Only if you like Mexican and Cuban food,” Langly added. “It’s all he can make.”

“Says the man who can’t even manage Top Ramen,” Frohike said, pointing. He turned back to Esther. “I spent some time in Miami. Plenty about that I’d like to forget, but at least I left there knowing how to treat a lady to a fine meal.”

“Fascinating,” Esther said, dryly. She shrugged. “Whatever, I could eat.”

With an eager grin, Frohike bustled off toward the kitchen without another word. Scully may as well have not been there at all.

***

True to his word, Frohike could make a mean pan of chilaquiles. Scully felt her mood improving, slightly, as she finished the plate of food in front of her and settled herself on the couch. She shook her head, listening to the awkward rise and fall of Frohike’s attempts to impress Esther with piecemeal bits of Spanish, but now she was more amused than annoyed.

Maybe it had something to do with Esther, still handcuffed to the desk and unable to escape his ridiculous peacocking, looking as though she’d rather be pecked to death by an actual peacock.

The combination of a warm, full stomach and having been hauled out of bed at two in the morning started to catch up with her in fairly short order. It wasn’t long before, in spite of her best intentions, she found herself nodding off.

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