Fighting his own horror, Mulder struck the cryopod with his flashlight, smashing it against the icy covering again and again: nothing. Remembering the cryolitter in the distance he ran to it, grabbed one of the oxygen tanks from its lid, and raced back to Scully. Grunting with effort, he raised the tank and drove it repeat-edly against the cryopod.
With a muffled crack the pod shattered. Ice and slush pooled onto the ground, and for the first time he saw Scully clearly, her body shrouded with frost. With shaking fingers he unzipped his jacket and felt for the envelope in the inner pocket. He pulled out the syringe and ampoule, wrestling with the rubber cap and squinting to see the needle in the darkness.
Then he jabbed it into her shoulder.
Almost instantly, viscous amber fluid oozed from the tube in her mouth, thick as melted tar. Then the tube began to shrivel, the desic-cation moving from where it entered her mouth all the way to the cryopod that had enclosed her. At the same moment the tunnel shuddered. Mulder lurched and nearly crashed into the wall. He steadied himself, then yanked the tube from Scully's mouth.
Her eyes blinked, her lips moved as she tried to suck in air. Rapture gave way to fear as her eyes rolled, trying to focus, and still the air would not reach her lungs.
"Breathe!" Mulder cried. "Can you breathe?"
Before him she strained, her expression desperate, like a swimmer struggling to come up for air. Then amber liquid suddenly poured from her mouth. She began to cough and gag, taking huge gulps of air as her eyes finally focused on Mulder, as though he were a phan-tom—or a miracle. Her mouth worked as she tried to speak, whispered words that Mulder couldn't discern.
"What?" He leaned into her tenderly, putting his ear against her cold mouth. The softest sound imaginable came out.
"Cold—"
"Hang on," said Mulder grimly. "I'm going to get you out of here."
Gently he pulled her from the cryopod and laid her on the floor, then began peeling away the outer layers of his own clothing—his socks, his hooded parka, his protective outer pants— and put them onto her.
Inside the ice station the room began to shake. The Cigarette-Smoking Man hurried past row upon row of computers where men sat, their eyes fixed on the blinking screens. In front of one monitor, a man looked up worriedly as the Cigarette-Smoking Man hastened to his side.
The man pointed at the screen, where a complex system of graphs had suddenly changed, numbers and levels skyrocketing. "We've got a contaminant in the system," he said.
The Cigarette-Smoking Man stared expres-sionlessly at the screen. "It's Mulder. He's got the vaccine."
Without another word he turned and hurried for the door. Around him men were running as they began evacuating the ice sta-tion. The Cigarette-Smoking Man ignored them and headed for his tractor.
There he was met by a gaunt man whose close-cropped hair was almost hidden beneath his parka hood: the man who had shot Mulder. He flung open the door of the tractor and clam-bered inside.
"What's happened?" he yelled.
The Cigarette-Smoking Man swung into the cab alongside him. "It's all going to hell."
The snow tractor began to pull away. Behind them steam vents erupted on the sur-face. Beneath the ice station, hot air blasting from the ducts was causing the ice shelf to melt and collapse.
"What about Mulder?" the other man shouted.
The Cigarette-Smoking Man glanced behind them and shook his head. "He'll never make it."
The tractor began to pull away. Behind them, mist rose like smoke from the domed structures.
• • e
Hundreds of feet below, the narrow passages of the buried spaceship filled with foggy conden-sation.
Mulder swung his flashlight before him, trying vainly to pierce the mist with its feeble beam. In his arms was Scully, her limp body poised awkwardly in a fireman's carry. She wore Mulder's snow parka and nylon outer pants, and her face grazed his shoulder as she tried to lift her head to speak.
"We've got to keep moving," Mulder said hoarsely. He was laboring to get her up the interior of the steep, curving spoke that tra-versed the dome's center. All around them rivulets of water streamed from the hanging cryopods, pouring down to form pools and rushing brooklets on the circular central floor.
The entire structure vibrated as Mulder strug-gled on, fighting his own flagging energy as he half-carried, half-pulled Scully as quickly as he could down the fog-shrouded corridor.
Approaching the place where Mulder first slipped down into the passage, the walls were now slick with running water. When they reached the end of the passage, they found the base of a tube and began to climb. At the top, they found themselves in the upper corridor where Mulder had first seen the prehistoric man.
Its body was no longer encased in solid ice. Through the layers of ice and translucent skin the embryonic creature inside could be glimpsed, turning very slightly as though coming awake. Mulder gazed at it transfixed, then quickly turned and stared up at the ceil-ing.
"Scully, reach up and grab that vent."
She did not respond. He looked downward and saw that she had lost consciousness. With gentle urgency he laid her on the floor. "Scully, come on, Scully—"
He hastened to unzip her jacket, his fingers moving across her neck as he sought a pulse. "Scully—"
She strained harder to breathe as he thrust his fingers into her mouth, clearing her pas-sageway.
"Breathe, Scully." He straddled her, palms flat against her chest as he pumped hard, forcing air into her.
One. Two. Three.
He leaned down and put his mouth against hers, feeling how cold her lips were, and her cheeks. He breathed into her, turning his head away and listening for the telltale gurgle of air in her lungs.
Nothing.
He pumped her chest again, his move-ments growing more and more frantic as her eyes bulged and her face darkened from scarlet to nearly purple.
One. Two. Three.
His mouth against hers, breathing; his ear against her chest.
Still nothing.
Behind him, unseen, the embryonic crea-tures thrashed within their hosts, as the ice around them began to fall in chunks to the floor. At the sound, Mulder turned and saw them striving to escape, and realized their urgency was even greater. With new haste Mulder continued CPR, oblivious to anything but Scully. Abruptly he drew back from her.
Then beneath him she suddenly moved. A shudder as she sucked in air, and then began to cough. The awful bruised color drained from her face, as did that dreadful panic. She gazed at Mulder, eyes focusing on his, and her lips parted.
"Mulder—" she said in a pained whisper. He lowered his face until it brushed hers, lis-tening raptly.
"Mulder—
"Had you big time."
The faintest grin flitted across his face. Before he could reply, a loud chunk echoed from behind him.
Mulder whipped his head around.
"Holy shit—"
Through the haze of fog he could just barely make out dark forms moving in the cor-ridor. Spindly arms and legs thrust from the cryopods, as their three-fingered hands beat and shattered the crumbling ice.
The creatures were beginning to hatch.
Mulder whirled to look the other way. The same scene greeted him: slush pouring from the pods as the creatures' powerful feet kicked holes in their icy tombs. He turned back to his partner.
"Scully! Reach up and grab that vent—"
Her mouth moved but no words came out. With all his remaining strength Mulder stooped and lifted her, turning to where the vent opened in the wall above them. He propped her against his shoulder and pushed her toward the vent. She grabbed it and pulled herself up, and then disap-peared through the opening. Behind her Mulder jumped and found a handhold, propelling himself by kicking at what was below. With a hoarse cry a creature burst free from its cryopod. First one hand, then the other shot out, ripping through what remained of the host body. The jellied flesh slid to the floor in a gray heap as the creature grabbed at Mulder's foot. He kicked at it furiously as its claws slid down his legs. Just as it stumbled from its pod, Mulder yanked himself from its grip and in one smooth motion swung himself up and into the vent.