Krycek swam along beside him, and Mulder was thrilled at the closeness, the trust he was being shown. Everything he touched and showed to the merman was studiously inspected and sometimes tasted. Krycek checked out the overhang above the observation windows that mimicked a small beach. Mulder had asked for that special feature to be included, it would be more comfortable if Krycek wanted to be on dry land for whatever reason, and would allow him to haul himself out of the water easily.
Mulder could feel himself grinning under the mask. He must look like a complete idiot to the audience, but he couldn’t get over the amazement of actually swimming with a real live merman. He could feel the warmth from its body when it swam close, and was amazed by its grace and control as it swam over and around Mulder.
Everywhere in the tank, apart from the small cave, would allow the public to see Krycek. The small cave was fitted with motion detectors and a camera that would let the staff and Mulder know when Krycek was in there. There were as many interesting things in the tank as Mulder could think to include, things to keep an animal with such a large brain capacity interested.
Mulder was starting to build a theory that the mermen were not of the same limited capacity of intelligence as most animals, that they in fact had as much basic intelligence, or capacity for reason and abstract thought, as human beings. But that their total lack of education and apparent lack of language capacities kept them ignorant of everything except basic survival and instinctive knowledge.
He didn’t voice that opinion, however. He knew he was skirting the bounds of pure science, and that a tendency to anthropomorphise Krycek could be incredibly dangerous.
Someone was tapping on the glass, despite the large, obvious signs warning against it. Morons everywhere, thought Mulder, but it didn’t appear to bother Krycek. In fact, the animal had swum over to the windows, staring back at the people with as much interest as they displayed in him. The people had frozen in wonder as he’d approached him, and he slowly turned upside down, viewing them as if they had been provided for his amusement, not the other way around. The young woman started to tap again, tentatively trying to get his attention. She jumped back a mile as he tapped back, his claw copying out her exact rhythm.
How very interesting, thought Mulder. He also swam to the glass, and tapped out a distinctive beat: bum dabum bum. Krycek copied it exactly, before turning away, investigating the sandy floor of the enclosure.
Well, thought Mulder, it appears we may finally have a potential key to communication...
Mulder watched in fascination as Krycek used his strong hands and sharp fingers to remove a part of the display, dislodging a large flat rock that had been cemented to the side. Mulder didn’t mind the damage. If Krycek wanted to pull things apart, that was fine with Mulder. But he was somewhat dismayed as Krycek then used the rock to pound a sea anemone into pulp.
Okay, you don’t like sea anemones, fair enough, they do sting. And it’s your new house... if you want to redecorate, you redecorate!
He left Krycek trying to bury the anemone remains in the sandy floor, and swam back up to the examination platform, hauling himself up to sit, feet in the water, and enjoy his pet’s new outing.
As soon as he was settled, he jumped at the feeling of a cold, hard hand encircle his ankle. The announcer’s voice chatted on in the background, spouting nonsense for the visitors, as Mulder stared down into huge green eyes. There was a firm tug on his leg and he wondered if he was going to be pulled back into the water, but the merman seemed content to hold his ankle and stare up expressionlessly.
Mulder picked up the microphone beside him, preparatory to the first inane question the audience would direct to him via the announcer. It was hard to focus on the questions with those inhuman eyes focused on him so intently. He took a deep breath and looked away. It was time to make the punters happy.
"No, he’s not just some guy with a tail. The merpeople are different from human beings in many ways. Their entire lung structure is different. Although Krycek has lungs that can breath air, indefinitely from what we have seen, he has an extra organ in his chest, almost the size of a lung, that converts water into oxygen before it reaches the lungs. A complex system of alveoli prevents sea water from ever actually entering the lungs. The salt is filtered and passed out through the scales and membranes."
"No, as far as we know, he cannot ‘sing like a siren’, at least, he hasn’t shown that ability since he was brought in. He hasn’t got vocal chords like humans, although he could make sounds, they wouldn’t be more than whispers."
"We don’t know exactly what he’ll eat yet. He likes crustaceans and kelp, but won’t eat fish.
"No, sir, he doesn’t eat ice-cream. Ice-cream and sweets are not part of the diet of sea going creatures."
"I don’t know why he’s hanging on my leg, madam, I think that feet and legs are very strange to him, we probably all look like we have two tails."
"Ah, yes, I am now aware that he has stolen my swim fin."
"No, he isn’t dangerous... or at least he hasn’t tried to harm any of the attendants at the aquarium. We are not letting the public too close though. We don’t know enough about these creatures yet."
"I’d say he’d be the comparable age of a human male... late 20s early 30s, from what we know they age at the same rate as humans."
Mulder fixed his plastic smile a little firmer at the jokes and idiot questions from the audience, telling himself they were just excited, and knowing what that was like.
He felt a solid bump against his leg and the soft ridges of fins and tail as Krycek swam past, gnawing on the stolen swim fin. Mulder watched trails of shimmering blue slide and dip through the water, ignoring the next question until it was asked again.
"Sorry? Oh... yes, one day we’d like to get another, but we do fully intend to return Krycek to the ocean."
"Yes, there are leg bones similar to a human’s in his tail, but they are not functional."
"Yes they do... mate male-to-male, but no, that’s not ‘weird’. It’s probably part of a natural evolutionary population control. Much like baboons or dolphins or ducks, it’s quite natural. It keeps the males at the prime of their sexual prowess and gives females a choice of potential fathers for their offspring."
"Yes, they do come in a range of colours."
"No, you cannot have one."
-oo0oo-
The air was warm, his skin slightly damp with easy sweat, the moonlight reflected on water black like oil. Mulder stripped down to his shorts and slid his body into the water. He could see nothing below the surface, and facing away from the observation windows, he could have been sliding into the wide oceans, the moonlight kissing the details away. The tank was as wide as they could make it and still keep it clean. He rolled onto his back and imagined the walls away.
The merman had slid into the small cave they’d provided as darkness fell, and Mulder had watched the videos until the water turned to ink and the picture to infra-red, fascinated as the long tail curled around the almost human torso and Krycek slept. He’d had one question answered then, as the cave roof prevented the merman floating to the surface. He had typed out his observation that the merman’s lungs operated like a fish’s swim bladder, and he had to work at sinking down and against floating naturally towards the surface.
Now he barely moved, not wanting to disturb Krycek’s sleep on his first night. But he found he couldn’t stay away, and just being in the same water let him connect, feel connected.
He felt the solid bump, lifting him a good foot out of the water before sinking down again, and couldn’t resist smiling. He flipped over, and grabbed the last of the tail as it slid past, holding his breath as he was dragged under water and towed along.
Krycek flipped him off, turned and surfaced directly in front of Mulder, face two or three inches away. Mulder smoothly trod water, feeling awkward as Krycek barely twitched to maintain his position. Mulder stared into eyes dark green like ancient oceans, expressionless, reflecting nothing but moonlight and Mulder’s own deathless curiosity.
Click, rattle. Krycek’s mouth moved, Mulder could see the vibrations in his throat, but couldn’t be sure if it was language, or just noise. Perhaps there were accompanying Sonics? He made a mental note to bring in sound measuring equipment sometime.
"Are you trying to talk to me?" he whispered.
Krycek’s head on one side, judging Mulder, finding him lacking, backing off a few inches.
"Hey... don’t go..."
...And then the merman started to sing. The sound of wind through trees... but no leaves or branches to interfere with the cold clear sound. One long continuous note, it chilled Mulder in the warm water until he felt his bones turn to ice, his flesh turn to eschar.
Held in thrall, Mulder stopped moving, but though frozen in place he couldn’t sink, even the water seemed to gel around him – holding him prisoner.
There was no release from the sound that pierced through to his very soul. He could feel it pulling his heart from his chest, no longer beating but growing until it felt like it would explode through his rib cage. His head throbbed, not with pain, but with the need to follow the sound, to become a part of it, while a small part of his mind realised he’d stopped breathing as the sound had started. He was getting light headed from lack of oxygen.
Then the singing stopped, not quickly, but fading away to a sad and gentle sigh.
Krycek turned away and slipped under the surface, disappearing with nary a ripple, and Mulder realised he’d been tested somehow. Tested and found wanting. He had no idea how or why, and he shivered, aching right down to his bone marrow as he swam what seemed miles to the edge to haul himself out of the pool.
-oo0oo-
There were questions the next day. The skeleton staff who worked at the aquarium at night, and people who lived nearby – or not even so nearby - had heard the noise. There’d been a crowd gathered within minutes, and the security guards had been unable to disperse them for hours.
Mulder told no one where the noise had come from, but the speculation had already started.
Siren.
They who lured sailors to their deaths, destroying many lives, using their song as bait.
He’d have to tell Scully; he’d have to write it up in his daily reports, but right now he didn’t want this becoming public knowledge. People were afraid of the unknown, the different, and he’d do or say nothing that would put Krycek in jeopardy or force his early release.
He sat by the edge of the pool, feet dangling into the water, and watched warily as the merman streaked up from the depths, grabbed the edge of the platform and plopped himself down beside Mulder, emulating the human’s position. Sitting up like that Mulder felt he should hand the guy a beer like a couple of pals out for a day’s fishing.
"What was all that about, Krycek?" he asked, not expecting an answer. He could feel the aching still, although now it had settled down to a sad yearning. Every cell in his body still leaned towards the noise, despite the hours since he’d heard it. "I guess you’re going to keep on surprising us, aren’t you."
Mulder reached out and ran his hands over Krycek’s face, across the almost-hair that blended with dorsal fins. "Lie down, it’s time for physio." He manoeuvred the merman onto the platform properly, and then started to gently rub down the site of the wounds. The scarring was barely more than a disturbance of scales now, and Mulder manipulated muscle, bone, and cartilage until any stiffness was gone. While he worked, Krycek curled the great tail up and started to groom himself. Mulder watched in fascination as Krycek’s long fingers manipulated scales and fins, sorting out any itchy spots, parasites, getting his fins just how he wanted them.
"What’s he doing?" Scully’s voice interrupted Mulder’s fascination.
"Squeezing the barnacles on his butt," Mulder joked.
Krycek turned to look at Scully, still sitting on his folded tail. The end of the tail slapped the ground hard.
"Was that irritation, like a cat’s tail twitching, or more like a dog wagging?"
"I really don’t know, Scully. I wish he’d show more in the way of facial expression."
"He’s not human..."
"I know, but cats have plenty of facial expression, as do dogs. But then, I guess fish and cetaceans don’t. It’s probably not a requirement of underwater communication."
Krycek’s tail hit the floor with another thump, then he turned to Mulder and started sorting through Mulder’s hair.
"Ah... looks like I’m being groomed now."
Scully couldn’t help laughing as Mulder was pulled this way and that, his hair combed back, then his nose, ears, and mouth were inspected and prodded with long fingers.
"Turn about’s fair play, I guess I was doing this to him earlier..." Mulder mumbled around a mouthful of fish fingers. "I fink he’th tryig to check my teef..."
"I dare say they look strange to him." Scully leaned her elbows on the platform, still standing on the main walkway. She had more sense than to get close to the merman. "We open in ten minutes, you wanna get him into the water?"
"He wants to sit in the sun for a moment. Do you want me to just shove him in?"
"The people like to see him swimming. At $20 per adult we want to give them what they want."
"He’s worth a lot more than just the takings at the gate you know."
"I know," she smiled indulgently. "Later today cetacean language experts from Seaworld are going to come around. They want to see if he can be taught simple signs and signals."
"I think it would be more to the point if we learned his language, his methods of communication, rather than imposing our own structure on him."
"Like that sound last night?"
"You heard that, huh."
"I think everybody in a five mile radius heard that. What caused it?"
"I don’t really know. One moment he’s swimming, the next... it’s that... wailing. Do you think that’s what the sailors describe as the siren song?"
"It’s possible, Mulder. The sirens supposedly killed people. Will he?"
"He displayed no signs of violence, he was just... calling. Perhaps to me or perhaps he’s lonesome for his own kind. He wasn’t threatening. And all the sirens did, if I remember, was to lure sailors to their deaths, not actually kill anyone themselves."
