"You wouldn't believe the shitstorm that kicked up," Seven 
confirmed. "We believed the man thought that just because he was 
on a first name basis with the Prime Minister that he could ignore us. 
The Overseer who was handling recruitment in those days was all 
set to authorize a coercion operation to ensure Sir James' 
cooperation when we found out that the Chaos Insurgency had 
beaten us to the punch." 


"Oh?" asked Harper. 


"They sent a squad of a dozen ex-black-ops thugs to abduct him in 
the middle of the night," Seven said. "According to our intel - and the 
GOC's intel agreed, by the way - he was home alone. Nobody 
knows for sure exactly what happened, or how Sir James pulled it 
off, but three days later the heads of each of the hit squad members 
arrived in the mail to each of the various organizations dealing with 
the paranormal (the Insurgency, the Foundation, the GOC, all of 
them)." Harper gagged slightly - he had a strong stomach, but this 
had come out of left field. Apparently, Seven had heard him, 
because she continued, "It gets better. Each parcel had a hand 
written note from Sir James, stating that he was not interested in 
working for a particular organization, but would 'happily consult on 
any puzzles we have that struck his fancy." 


The counterintelligence officer massaged his temples. If the world 
made sense, such behavior would have been nipped in the bud. 
Working for the Foundation, however, quickly hammered home that 
the world does not make sense. "So then what?" he asked. 


"Everyone backed off," Seven replied. "Cooler heads prevailed in 
the Foundation and GOC, realizing it wasn't worth the loss of 
personnel and resources to bag this guy when he openly admitted to 


being willing to consult, while the Serpent's Hand and Chaos 
Insurgency were both sufficiently cowed by his rather spectacular 
display of cruelty to stand down." 


“For this has to be noted," Harper quoted, "that men should either 
be caressed or eliminated, because they avenge themselves for 
slight offenses but cannot do so for grave ones; so the offense one 
does to a man should be such that one does not fear revenge for it." 


Seven chuckled, "| see you've read Harvey Mansfield's recent 
translation. Most people would quote the better known verse: 'The 
response is that one would want to be both the one and the other; 
but because it is difficult to put them together, it is much safer to be 
feared than loved, if one has to lack one of the two.' Sir James has a 
first edition of the original in his library." 


Harper moved the conversation from the philosophical and historical 
back to the business at hand, "While that is interesting, and perhaps 
explains the apparent arrogance of the professor's demand, what is 
the problem with double-oh-six? Besides the Foundation's general 
policy of not handing SCPs out?" A policy, Harper didn't say (since 
both were aware), the Foundation was willing to overlook if the 
circumstances were sufficiently dire or the price was high enough. It 
was a dirty little secret known only to the tiniest of the upper echelon 
of the staff; a secret remarkably well protected, considering the 
gossip such things would normally attract in a bureaucracy. Of 
course, it probably helped that the Foundation essentially never 
actually broke the stated policy. And that the slightest whisper of a 
rumor about a time when the Foundation did give an SCP to 
someone else generally resulted in the person doing the whispering 
being purged so thoroughly Lavrentiy Pavlovich Beria would have 
been proud. It is unwise to make an organization controlling reality- 
warping entities decide that it would be best if you no longer existed. 


There was brief silence on the line as the Overseer considered her 
answer. "Mr. Harper, SCP-006 is one of the most dangerous items 
the Foundation controls. Its existence is only known to a select 
handful of Level 5 personnel and the staff directly involved in 
handling it. Only the current Overseers are permitted to know the 
exact details of zero-zero-six," she explained. "Here is what you 
need to know: you should consider it Keter. Over time it produces 


limited quantities of one of the most deadly toxins known to 
humanity. This thing is so dangerous any procedure in which liquid 
is acquired from zero-zero-six requires at least three Overseers to 
sign off on it, and any personnel who come into direct contact with 
either the liquid or the item itself have to be terminated by 
incineration." 


"In short, it is nasty stuff," Harper said. "So, what could Sir James 
want with this?" 


"Whatever it is, it's not good," Seven said. She sighed. "I'll talk with 
the other Overseers about this. I've had a number of dealings with 
Sir James before myself. | don't trust anyone with this stuff, but | 
suspect he's less likely to abuse it than most. In any case, it's a 
moot point. Because of my dealings with him, I'd need to recuse 
myself from the release authorization: so, unless none of the other 
leads he gave you pan out and | can convince three other Overseers 
to approve and the rest of the Council doesn't veto it, the professor 
will have to do without." 


"And that is about as likely as six-eighty-two keeling over from a 
heart attack," Harper remarked dryly. 


"In the meantime, Mr. Harper, | want you to go check on five-five- 
seven and one-four-four-zero," Seven instructed. "You'll be on the 
next flight to Research Site-29 in Oman." 


Harper quietly objected, "With all due respect, ma'am, tomorrow is 
Christmas, and the tenth anniversary of my family's passing.” 


"Right," Seven apologized. "I'm sorry, Mr. Harper. | had forgotten. | 
know this is not a pleasant thing to ask of you. | also know 
Christmas is the only day of the year you ask to take off. And | hope 
you know that | am deeply sorry for your loss. But this conspiracy is 
a very serious threat to the Foundation, and by extension—" 


"—To everything else," the counterintelligence officer acknowledged 
sadly. He sighed. He knew, in its own way, that a conspiracy like this 
one was as large a threat as the Foundation ever faced, even if the 
science types thought a rampaging gecko was a bigger concern. 
Taking a deep breath, he said, "Alright. But | will arrange my own 


SCP-609: Dr. Wondertainment's Ontological 6-Balls® 


Item #: SCP-609 
Object Class: Keter 


Special Containment Procedures: SCP-609 is to be stored in 
individual opaque containers inside a locker at Research Facility 5. 
All personnel must conduct Protocol 94-Wegner-Gyatso before 
observing any number of SCP-609-1 to ensure a clear and focused 
mind. Agents who locate instances of SCP-609-1 are to immediately 
break visual contact until the object is contained. UPDATE / / : 
SCP-609 has been transferred. It is now to be contained in opaque, 
locked bins at Storage Site 32. 


Because control of SCP-609-1 is highly difficult due to ironic-process 
theory, only trained researchers with Level 2 Clearance and above 
are permitted to view it for experimental purposes. 


SCP-609-A is to be secured in Storage Locker 11 at Research 
Facility 5. Viewing the text of SCP-609-A, in whole or in part, 
requires permission from the head researcher. 


Description: SCP-609 is a collection of identical green billiard balls 
in the American pool style which measure 57.15mm in diameter and 
are believed to exist only as immaterial manifestations of a concept. 
Instances of SCP-609, designated SCP-609-1, are unbound by 
physical laws. Each instance is impervious to damage, undetectable 
except by the naked eye, and unable to conduct heat; instead, they 
always feel cold to the touch. 


SCP-609-1 can be manipulated by thought. When a sapient creature 
is in direct visual contact with SCP-609-1, it will emulate the actions 
the user imagines, including motion, duplication, and instantaneous 
manifestation at a visualized location. Observers cannot alter the 
physical appearance of SCP-609-1 or erase it from existence. 


flight. | am going to take time to stop by St. Paul's Cathedral to light 
a candle for my family, since | can't do it at the National Cathedral 
like | do every year." 


"Very well," Seven acquiesced. "Who knows when you'll next be 
near a Church. I'll pass along your update to Mr. Muir and Ms. 
Daniel, and have them attempt to track down SCP-1440. Good luck 
in Oman." She disconnected. 


Putting down the receiver, Harper leaned back in his chair, rubbing 
his face with his hands. This sort of thing brought back bad 
memories: putting work before family. 


In the next room, the office staff wondered what had caused the 


visiting Level 5 VIP to swear so loudly they could hear it through the 
soundproofed walls. 


« Part IV | HUB | Part VI » 


Conspiracy, Part VI 


The Hunt 


Foundation Research Site-29, Northwest Oman 
Sunday, 25 December 1988, 0300 hours local time 


The helicopter touched down at the edge of the base camp for 
Research Site-29. It wasn't much to look at, just a standard 
perimeter fence, a few large tents, and a prefabricated watchtower 
with a searchlight and heavy machine gun. Razor wire anda 
minefield fifty meters deep had been deployed around the perimeter. 
These security measures would be improved as the site was 
developed further. According to the file, the site had only been 
constructed a few months before, after SCP-557 had been 
discovered by an investigation into a missing geological survey 
team. 


Harper stepped off the helicopter and was met by two men. One 
was a short man with glasses, dressed in khakis and clutching a 
Stetson to his head. The other was an enormous, barrel-chested 
Arab wearing an impressive black beard and desert camouflage. 


"You must be the VIP | was told to expect," shouted the shorter 
man, an American, based on his accent. "Dr. Nick Ford, Site 
Director. This is Colonel Ali El-Hashem, Site Security Chief." 


"Tim Harper, Foundation Counterintelligence," yelled Harper. He 
followed the two men into the nearby command tent as the 
helicopter shut down. 


The tent was mostly empty (unsurprising, given the hour); a radio 
operator sat in the corner reading a book. "Lieutenant, go get a cup 
of coffee," boomed El-Hashem in a deep, resonant baritone. The 
tech jumped to his feet and scurried out. Rounding on Harper, the 


Colonel asked ominously, "Is there a problem with my security?" 


"Now, Colonel,” objected Dr. Ford, "that's no way to welcome our 
guest. I'm sure that's not why—" 


"The Hell it's not!" bellowed El-Hashem. "Why else would a Level 5 
counterintelligence officer arrive at my site at oh-dark-thirty?" 


"It's quite alright," Harper said quietly. "| am not aware of any 
inadequacies in your security measures, nor am | aware of any 
problems with your staff." The giant Arab deflated, but looked 
slightly relieved. 


Dr. Ford asked, "So, Agent Harper, what does bring you out to 
Research Site-29 in the middle of the night?" 


"Just 'Mister’," Harper corrected gently. "I'm not an agent. I'm here 
because | have reason to believe a person-of-interest is intending to 
use SCP-557-1 in a plot against the Foundation." 


Ford and El-Hashem shared a worried look. "Dash-one isn't 
contained," Ford said. "We aren't even sure what it is." 


"Wasn't that in the file?" El-Hashem asked. 


"| read both the files on SCP-557 and Research Site-29 on my 
flight," Harper explained, "but they both only had preliminary 
findings. I'm going to guess they haven't been updated yet, since the 
site's so new." 


Ford nodded, "That makes sense. | suppose | should go ahead and 
give you the nickel tour." He and Harper left the command tent and 
strode across the compound. At the center, there was a stone 
structure maybe ten meters in height. They entered through a rough 
hole in the side, perhaps two meters tall. 


The room was an ancient library. Dusty shelves lining the walls held 
rolls of papyrus. A table had been set up in the middle of the room, 
where researchers could examine and translate the scrolls and other 
artifacts. "This is Level 1," explained Ford. "There are five 
underground levels total, which is unusual for structures of this 
design. The structure itself is an Umm an-Nar era tomb, which we 


think was built somewhere in the twenty-fourth century BC. We've 
not had a chance to do a thorough sweep of the surrounding 
countryside yet, so there may be more ruins out there. Historically 
there was a trade route through this area and a (now lost) city 
named Ubar or lIrem, depending on the language. The desert 
eventually swallowed both the city and the trade route. Now, the 
scrolls we've found here on Level 1 are written in a number of 
ancient languages. So far, we've identified Greek, Old Egyptian, 
Sumerian, and Akkadian. We've only begun translating.” 


"Anything about dash-one?" asked Harper. 


"Maybe. We're still working on translating. We've pulled all the 
records we can identify that we think might refer to dash-one and 
are prioritizing those," Ford replied, gesturing to the several dozen 
scrolls littering the work table. He searched for a second, found a 
specific sheet of modern loose-leaf paper, and handed it over. "This 
is the translation of the only document in here written in Greek. 
Radiocarbon dating indicates it was the most recent addition to the 
library, from around 300 AD." 


| will write in Greek, so that any learned man who finds 
this place will understand. | am the last of the Keepers, 
and | will be dead soon. The sands are taking this place, 
and perhaps it is for the best. The prisoner must not 
escape, and the gateway to the dark must never be 
opened. | do not think the gate can be moved, but who 
knows of the prisoner? Not even the Gods could kill it, 
and it was only with their help that he was secured. 
Without the rituals, | do not know. Secure the door the 
best you can, and never move the stone. 


"That's charming," Harper remarked after finishing the note. 


"Yep," Ford agreed. "We don't know if that's talking about dash-one, 
but it could be. Dash-one wasn't the only thing held here." He 
paused. "Anyway, in the several rooms on Level 1, there are living 
quarters and Bronze and Iron Age weaponry for a relatively large 
contingent of individuals, possibly the 'Keepers' mentioned in the 
note. We only found two skeletons on this Level, so we think the 
facility was abandoned over time." 


Ford led Harper down a flight of stone stairs. A long corridor with 
small stone cells stretched into the distance. "This is Level 2. 
According to the records, Levels 2 and 3 were a prison for ‘heretics 
and sorcerers.’ We didn't find any evidence of the cells being 
occupied. They seem to have not been used for perhaps a thousand 
years before the structure was abandoned." 


"Any idea who these heretics and sorcerers were?" asked Harper. 


"None whatsoever," Ford replied as the two men descended to 
Level 4. "We don't even know who the Keepers were." 


Level 4 looked similar to Levels 2 and 3, except there was more 
evidence of the Foundation's archeological team. "This is Level 4, 
described by the records as ‘a place for the abnormal.’ This appears 
to have been used up though the facility's abandonment," Ford 
explained. 


"What sort of abnormal?" Harper inquired. 


"Well, we've found a variety of skeletons in the cells here, which 
match several known SCPs. Dr. Bhala has positively matched 
remains to what looks like SCP-439, SCP-610, and a couple of 
beasties that crawled out of SCP-354 - oh, don't worry, all the 
remains are completely inert," Ford said, seeing the mixture of 
concern and horror on Harper's face. "There are also a number of 
skeletons unlike anything my team has seen before. From what we 
can tell, each cell was custom-fortified for its occupant, unlike the 
cells in the upper levels." 


"Sounds like someone doing our job," Harper remarked.