UMBRA 2:ELLIPSIS
CHAPTER 6
By Dawson E. Rambo

Disclaimer : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any 
other tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris Carter 
remain his copyrighted property, the property of 1013 
Productions, and the property of Fox Television, a unit of 20th 
Century Fox, Inc. The author believes that the use of copyrighted 
characters in the forum known as "Fan Fiction" is protected under 
the "Fair Use" statutes of US Copyright law. No infringement of 
any copyright is intended.

Characters created by the author remain his property.

Archive Title           : ELLIPSIS 6/?
Posting Date            : 27 July 1998
Classification          : SRA/MSR[m]
Overall STORY Rating    : NC-17 (explicit sexuality, violence)
CHAPTER Rating          : R
Keywords                : UMBRA, Mulder/Scully, Thriller
Summary                 : Withheld at author's request.
Spoilers                : "Home", Umbra


ENJOY!
+=+=+=

Val-U-Rite Motel
Outside of Pave Creek, MT
Sunday Night

	Scully exited the bathroom, vigorously rubbing her wet hair
with a towel, to find Mulder on the bed idly flipping channels on the 
television.
	"Something just occurred to me," Scully said.
	Mulder put down the remote and folded his hands across his 
stomach.
	"Am I going to like this?" he asked, a teasing tone in his voice.
	"Probably not, but I'm going to ask anyway," Scully replied, 
sitting down on the end of the bed. "Most high schools, to my thinking, 
already have some sort of method for getting substitute teachers to 
cover for sick staff members. How are we going to make sure that we get 
called, Mulder?"
	"That occurred to me when Cruz gave me the original idea in the 
parking lot. When I spoke to our friend, I explained that we had to be 
able to get into the school with a minimum of questions asked, for 
obvious reasons.
	"The school district isn't large enough to support a staff of 
substitutes, so they use a temporary agency. They just call up and order 
a substitute -- like a pizza, almost. "One math teacher, extra calculus, 
light on the geometry." Like that."
	Scully dropped the towel into her lap. "And we've somehow reached 
this agency?"
	"Not us, but...yes, it's been reached."
	Scully nodded. "Guess I should have figured that."
	Mulder shrugged. "It's the little things, I guess, that we always 
forgot back when we were investigating X-Files. Sometimes it seemed we'd 
get so close to what we thought was the truth, and we'd get so caught up 
in the excitement of the chase, that we'd forget to ask those simple, 
stupid little questions. And then, the case would be over and the 
evidence and witnesses would go missing, and we'd have nothing."
	"Except the experience we needed," Scully pointed out.
	"Sure, we know that *now*," Mulder said.
	She turned to face him on the bed. "Mulder, we both know that... 
for whatever reasons, our friend feels that we would have somehow acted 
differently if we'd known then what we know now, and the experience 
would have been wasted."
	Mulder sighed. "I can grasp that intellectually. Emotionally, 
however, it's...hard. Hard to accept the fact that so many people were 
in on something that was engineered so long ago for this one single 
purpose. It drives me up the damn wall sometimes to think that all those 
cases...almost six years worth...were nothing but a mental obstacle 
course that I had to run in order to qualify for the main event."
	"Don't forget your father, or Melissa, or..."
	"I could never forget either of them, Scully. And believe me, if 
we run across Krycek during these little excursions, I will take great 
pleasure in arresting him and charging him with your sister's murder. 
*Great* pleasure."
	"If I don't shoot him first," Scully muttered.
	Mulder hesitated, and then asked a question he'd wanted to for 
some time. "Is it easier, Scully? To...do those sorts of things now?"
	"What? Shoot people?"
	Mulder nodded and waited for his wife's answer.
	She shrugged at first, her brow knitting with concentration as she 
considered the question. "In a way, yes. The UMBRA training was... 
complete, as you know. The hesitation that we used to feel, that split 
second when we consider if maybe there are other options... that's gone. 
Forever. Now, when I..." She trailed off, searching for the words. "Like 
in Phoenix, Mulder. When we dropped into that plane, I had no 
compunction about squeezing1 the trigger. Those six young men were dead 
from the moment they took over the plane. I was thinking like a commando 
at that point, not like a law-enforcement officer. They weren't going to 
be arrested. It wasn't an FBI mission, it was a military mission. And 
the difference is that when we operate as UMBRA members, we aren't 
constrained by certain aspects of the Federal Criminal Procedure Law. We 
don't have to identify ourselves as FBI agents, we don't have to yell 
"FREEZE!" or any other BS rules that we've been saddled with over the 
years."
	"BS, Scully?"
	"Yeah, Mulder, BS. Bullshit. They were bullshit rules and you know 
it. *We* always had to operate by them, but the bad guys never did. And 
I'm not just talking about these kids. I'm talking about all the bad 
guys people like us chase. The terrorists and the drug dealers and the 
rapists and the arsonists and the murderers. With forensic technology 
the way it is today, the Constitutional protections that were put in 
place to make sure no one got rail-roaded into prison are antiquated. We 
can, in almost every single case, prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that 
someone was at a crime scene, or came into contact with the victims, 
or...whatever. The police don't *need* to beat confessions out of anyone 
anymore. They don't need to coerce information out of people. So, those 
rules need to be examined and changed, Mulder."
	Mulder was silent for a moment.
	"Don't sugar coat it, Scully. Tell me what you *really* think."
	"Ha, ha. Very funny." She paused. "How about you? Is it easier for 
you now?"
	It was a fair question. "In one way, like you said, yes. But I'm 
still having problems dealing with the fact that my entire life seems 
manipulated. Everything. My birth, my childhood, the traumas that they 
subjected me to -- all of it, engineered to create the man that sits 
here before you. Even our relationship..."
	"Don't say that, Mulder. Never, ever say that," Scully said.
	"Well? Wasn't it? Our friend told us as much in that warehouse. 
That you'd been selected to become my partner, that..."
	"Mulder, he also said that our falling in love was *not* part of 
the plan."
	"But he also said that it was an unexpected *benefit*, Scully."
	She stood, tossing the towel underhand back into the bathroom. 
"So, what? You're saying that what we feel isn't real? Our marriage, our 
relationship is a fake? A fraud?"
	Mulder saw the pain and hurt in Scully's eyes and hurried to 
contain the damage. "No," he said, "I'm not saying that at all. We had 
no idea what was being done on our behalf when we fell in love. It's 
like when people get married in front of a fake preacher, Scully. Since 
they didn't know he was a fake, the marriage is valid."
	Mulder saw that his words hadn't had the effect he'd hoped.
	"Scully, I misspoke," Mulder said hastily. 		
	"Perhaps you'd better try again," Scully said.
	"Scully," Mulder said slowly. "Our relationship is real. It is not 
a fake and it is not a fraud. What I meant is that sometimes I feel 
betrayed by my mother and father, by all the people in my life that have 
conspired to bring me to this place. It's like I never had a chance!" He 
stood and walked to her, placing his hands gently on his shoulder. 
"Back...before, before the Graves case, I...I thought about you 
constantly. I thought about what it would like to be with you, as a man 
and a woman should be together, Scully. I thought about how wonderful it 
would be if I didn't have that damn quest, if I could come to you whole, 
intact, sane! I wanted so badly to be able to be in a relationship with 
you that didn't have us ducking the Consortium or hiding it from Skinner 
or your mother or the guys."
	He took a breath and continued. "And I knew, Scully...I knew then 
as I know now that there is no one else in the world I'd rather spend my 
life with. I'm just...can't you understand why I feel a tad 
manipulated?"
	Turning in his arms, Scully wrapped her arms around his waist, 
burying her face in his chest. "Yes, I think I can, Mulder. I had some 
of those same thoughts when we first found out the truth. But, that 
night, I sat up watching you sleep and I knew in my heart that it didn't 
matter what had been done to us in our lives. It didn't matter that we 
were forcibly brought together. We would have met, somehow, fallen in 
love and married, no matter what the circumstances." Lifting her face, 
Scully looked into Mulder's eyes. "And that's what keeps me going, 
Mulder. Knowing that you are the only man for me."
	Mulder kissed her once, softly, on the lips.
	"You're right," he said. "We would have met no matter what the 
circumstances. Because I know that I couldn't do what they're asking me 
to if you weren't right there by my side."
	"Oooh, good answer, G-man."
	He smiled, chuckling softly. "Let's go to bed," he said.
	"Even better," Scully whispered huskily.
	"Scully," Mulder said patiently, "didn't your brothers ever play 
football? Don't you know it's a bad idea to have sex just before the Big 
Game?"
	"Mulder," Scully said, placing both of her palms flat against his 
chest and pushing him onto the bed, "that's more bullshit. Vigorous 
lovemaking increases blood flow to all the vital organs, lowers the 
blood pressure, releases mood-elevating chemicals such as dopamine into 
the body, and contributes to an overall sense of well-being. Making love 
is the *best* thing that we can do before the Big Game."
	"I love it when you get all *scientific* on me, Scully. It's a 
turn on." Seeing the look of disbelief on her face, Mulder continued, 
"Really. Trust me."
	"I do trust you, Mulder."
	"Say something...*scientific*," Mulder said softly, whispering in 
the still room.
	"Acetycholine production," Scully said, and giggled.
	"Oooh, more, I'm getting hot..."
	"Magnetic Resonance Imaging," Scully said, and laughed again, 
louder.
	"Oh. My. God." Mulder said, his breathing ragged.
	"I can't believe this!" Scully laughed. "You *aren't* kidding!"
	"Don't stop, Scully," Mulder pleaded. "Please!"
	"Positron Emission Technology," Scully said, fighting not to burst 
out laughing. "The PCRs show a marked increase in the number of genetic 
mutations, Mulder; I think we should perform a branch-DNA test on any 
future..."
	Scully's voice trailed off as Mulder's hands slid up her legs, his 
palms capturing her buttocks. "You keep doing *that* and I'm not going 
to be able to form coherent sentences for much longer, G-man."
	"Keep talking, G-woman. Or I stop."
	"Uh..." Scully bit her lip, trying to think. His hands were 
distracting; deliciously so. "Um...genetic mutations are usually visible 
at the chromosomal level; all that's needed is a blood sample so that 
the...oooh, Mulder..."
	Mulder had, by that time, casually removed Scully's shirt and 
tossed it on the floor next to the bed. His hands were softly cupping 
her breasts, his fingers gently tracing their outlines, concentrating on 
keeping his touch light, teasing. He bit his lip, trying not to laugh as 
he watched his wife attempt to concentrate.
	"...what was I? Oh...microscope. Stethoscope. Slides. Gram stain 
analysis...oh..."
	Mulder's mouth had followed his hands and he was gently, softly 
licking Scully's left nipple.
	"Mulder," Scully pleaded. "Can I stop now?"
	"No," he said.
	"Carbon. Hydrogen. Oxygen. Neon. Chlorine. Soooooodium. Oh, yes, 
Mulder...don't stop..."

+=+=+=
Monday Morning

	The phone rang at just after six.
	Mulder rolled over and grabbed it, wondering what kind of evil 
villian would be on the other end, calling at this early hour. 
	"What?" he snapped.
	"Uh...I'm looking for Dana Scully," a timid voice replied.
	"Hold on," Mulder said. 
	Scully was asleep next to him, her back to his front, two hands 
tucked under her pillow.
	"Phone," Mulder said, unceremoniously dumping the receiver in 
front of her.
	"Scully," she mumbled.
	"Ms. Scully, this is Gloria Timmons, with the Montana Teachers 
Resource Agency?"
	"Hm?"
	"Uh, you've registered with us as a substitute teacher?"
	Scully was instantly, fully awake. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry. 
What can I do for you?"
	"We were calling to see if you could fill in for us today at Pave 
Creek High School. We need a math teacher."
	"Of course. Who will I be covering for?" Scully asked.
	"Angela Watters. Just go to the school office and tell them that 
you're there from Montana Teachers Resource. They'll tell you everything 
you need to know."
	"Thank you."
	"Our pleasure, Ma'am."
	Scully handed the phone back to Mulder. 
	He hung it up and reached for her.
	Ten seconds later, the phone rang again.
	"WHAT?" Mulder demanded.
	"Uh, Mr. Mulder?" the same voice asked.
	"I'm sorry," Mulder said, rolling his eyes at Scully. "Yes, this 
is Mr. Mulder."
	"Mr. Mulder, this is Montana Teachers Resource. I'm Gloria 
Timmons, and we were wondering if..."

+=+=
Pave Creek High School
7:30am

	They each arrived in separate cars. Mulder had gone over the cars 
in the motel parking lot the night before, removing any external 
indication that they were, in fact, rental cars. He'd attached two 
Montana license plates to both cars, the plates having come from a 
special pool allocated to the federal government. Any law enforcement 
officer (or other curious party) who attempted to run the plates through 
Montana DMV would come up against a blank wall.
	Mulder arrived first, carrying a paper cup of coffee, and entered 
the office trying very hard to look like a substitute teacher eager to 
mold young minds.
	"Mulder, in for Mr. Grimes," he said to the secretary.
	"Oh, yes. I don't think we've had you with us before, Mr. Mulder."
	"Actually, it's Dr. Mulder," Mulder said. My one little vanity, he 
chided himself. Well, at least I didn't make them call me Colonel 
Mulder, or The Honorable Fox William Mulder, Esquire.
	"Dr. Mulder, then. Mr. Grimes' class is in room 222,"
	"No kidding?" Mulder said, flashing back to a case in Home, PA.
	"No," the secretary said, smiling. "No kidding. You have Western 
Civ first period. Second period, at 9:04, Junior European History. Then 
Sophomore American History at 9:48..."
	Mulder reached for the schedule. "I'm sure I can figure it out," 
he said. "If you'd just point me towards the teacher's lounge."
	"Bottom floor, room 117," the secretary sniffed.
	Mulder bumped into Scully as he left the office. "Excuse me," he 
said, winking at her.
	Scully approached the secretary. "Dana Scully, in for Angela 
Watters," she said crisply.
	"Yes, Miss Scully. You have Sophomore Geometry first period, then 
Junior precalculus second, Senior calculus third, basics of math 
fourth..."

+=+=
Teachers Lounge
Pave Creek High School
7:42am
	
	Scully found Mulder in the teacher's lounge, refreshing his store-
bought coffee from the huge stainless steel urn located on a folding 
table in the corner.
	Grabbing a small Styrofoam cup for herself, Scully joined Mulder 
at the table and waited her turn.
	"Mulder," he said, offering his hand.
	"Dana Scully," she said, taking it. "Don't you have a first name, 
Mr. Mulder?"
	He smiled. "I don't like telling people what it is," he said. 
	"Oh, a man of mystery?"
	"Something like that."
	Several of the staff teachers watched the exchange and smiled. Tom 
Owens, a physical education teacher, noticed the ring on Scully's finger 
and frowned.
	Too bad, he thought. She looks like the type that might go for a 
fine physical specimen like myself.
	Owens swaggered up to the coffee urn. "Tom Owens," he said to 
Scully. "I don't mind telling a pretty lady my first name."
	Mulder's eyes found Scully's and they shared a small smile.
	"Dana Scully," Scully said, offering her hand. Owens took it, 
squeezing hard. Scully winced.
	"Sorry," Owens said, his tone of voice indicating that he was 
anything but.
	"Mulder," Mulder said, offering his hand. 
	Owens took it, smiling like a shark. The smile vanished a moment 
later as Mulder applied pressure. After two seconds, Owens paled and 
tried to pull his hand back. 
	"Gym teacher, right?" Mulder said, nodding at Owens' shirt.
	"Y-yeah," Owens gasped.
	Releasing his hand, Mulder smiled. "Pleased to meetcha."
	Owens turned on his heel and left them alone.
	"You are *bad*," Scully said, sotto voce. "Play nice with the 
other children, Mr. Mulder, or you'll have to serve detention after 
school."
	Scully groaned inwardly at the light that suddenly shone in 
Mulder's eyes. She knew that at *some* point in the future he was going 
to bring her comment up again, and she wasn't giving odds on whether or 
not they'd be naked when the subject came up. She could just *see* 
Mulder begging her to make him "serve detention" with her as the 
glowering, disapproving schoolmarm.
	"Behave!" she hissed, and turned to go.
	"See you later," Mulder said, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

+=+=
Room 222
Pave Creek High School
8:05am

	"So," Mulder said, holding up Grimes' grade book. "How about I 
take the roll and then we talk for a while."
	"Mr. Grimes had a quiz scheduled for today," a student in the 
front row announced, to the groans of his classmates.
	"Well, Mr. Grimes is just going to have to give that quiz himself 
when he returns," Mulder replied.
	"But I studied all weekend!" the student complained. Judging by 
the looks the rest of the class gave him, Mulder felt sorry for the 
little bookworm.
	You were him, a small voice in Mulder's head announced. Always 
ready for the test, ready for a way to prove yourself against the rest 
of the class. Take pity on the little geek.
	"Well, what was the quiz supposed to be on?" Mulder asked 
reasonably.
	"German Industrialism Prior to World War I," the geek announced.
	"Fine," Mulder said. "Write me a thousand-word essay on the 
subject." The class, as one, groaned loudly. "No, no," Mulder said, 
holding up his hand. "Just him. The rest of us are going to talk about 
history, instead of writing about it."
	The geek nodded and opened his notebook, bent over it and began 
writing.
	Shaking his head, Mulder opened the gradebook.
	"Adams."
	"Here."
	"Anderson."
	"Here."

+=+=+=
Room 213
8:07

	"Ok," Scully said, standing in front of the class. "Listen up. I 
am Dana Scully, substituting for Mrs. Watters. You treat me with 
respect, and I will do the same for you. No roughhousing, no BS, and 
today will just fly by. Questions?"
	Twenty four students, each of them equally cowed by Scully's 
attitude, shook their heads.
	"Fine. I don't feel like calling the whole role, but I might 
somewhere down the line. So, tell me now: Who's not here?"
	"Danny Koss," a voice from the back said.
	"Probably at his shrink appointment," a voice closer to the front 
snickered.
	"That's enough!" Scully snapped. "Koss, is that it?"
	The class "um-hummed" as one.
	Walking to the board, Scully grabbed a piece of chalk and asked, 
"Ok, where did Mrs. Watters leave off on Friday?"

+=+=
9:01am

	The first shot was muffled, a soft little "whump!" that didn't 
raise a single eyebrow in Mulder's first period class. Mulder, in the 
middle of discussing German Industrialism, paused in mid-sentence and 
glanced at the clock.
	He'd almost forgotten.
	Teaching the class had been so distracting, so fun that he'd lost 
track of time.
	Mulder glanced at his watch, reconciling the difference in time. 
He had about...two minutes.
	"Let's start to wrap this up," Mulder said. "If there aren't any 
questions...."
	No one had any, not even the geek in the front row.
	"Ok, I'm going to let you go a minute or two early," Mulder said. 
His original intention had been to have the room as clear as possible 
when it all went down, but then he thought better of it. If the kid with 
the AK-47 ran into a wall of his classmates, there was no telling what 
would happen. "...but I'd probably get in trouble," Mulder finished 
after a pause. "If Mr. Grimes assigned you any homework, I'd suggest you 
have it done for him tomorrow, as well as being ready for that quiz your 
classmate mentioned."
	And of course, at that exact moment, Danny Koss entered Mulder's 
classroom, brandishing an AK-47.
	Mulder turned to face Koss. 
	"Second period doesn't start for another four minutes," Mulder 
said.

+=+=+=
Cafeteria,
Pave Creek High School
9:09am

	Koss and his two friends had ushered the entire sophomore class, 
all one-hundred and sixty two of them, into the cafeteria at gunpoint. 
Mulder and Scully ended up in the back, seated at a table with seven 
other teachers.
	Seated across from his wife, Mulder had the best seat in the house 
to watch Koss and his two friends.
	Outside, the sound of sirens could be heard, as well as the 
"whomp-whomp" of helicopter blades. Either the cops were much better 
equipped for this sort of thing than Mulder had originally thought, or 
the press had already gotten wind of the situation and was now 
broadcasting live pictures to the world.
	Koss stood at the front of the cafeteria, his weapon cradled 
loosely in his arms.
	He looks like he knows how to use that, Mulder thought. And on the 
heels of that: <He does. He's been trained.>
	"Listen very carefully," Koss said to his classmates. "I don't 
want to hurt any of you. I have a mission, and as soon as that mission 
is accomplished, you'll all be going home. But if any one of you 
attempts to interfere with that mission, then I will be forced to take 
drastic steps."
	<That sounds rehearsed,> Scully thought.
	"Are there any questions?" Koss asked.
	"What's your mission?" a student shouted from the back.
	"That's none of your business," Koss answered evenly. "None of you 
can help accomplish my mission. It depends on the folks out there. It 
depends if they believe that I'm ready to do what is necessary to 
accomplish it. If they don't believe me, if they try and take this 
building, then people are going to get hurt. Some of you are going to 
get hurt. We're just going to wait until they try and contact us."
	"What if they don't do what you want?" a girl near the front 
asked. She was pretty, wearing a cheerleader's uniform, and she looked 
scared out of her wits.
	"They will," Koss assured her.
	"They're *adults*," the girl said, her tone making it clear what 
she thought of them.
	"They will," Koss said again. "They have no choice."

+=+=
11:09am

	Sheriff John "Bud" Adams glanced around at the three-ring circus 
the situation had somehow become and wondered why the hell he'd ever 
decided to seek the office he now held.
	When the report of "shots fired" inside the school had first come, 
the Pave Creek Sheriff's office has responded in force. Of course, "in 
force" for a 21-member department wasn't a very impressive display of 
law enforcement might. Even with the off-duty deputies responding, it 
was still way beyond their capabilities to control. Which, of course, 
meant that the Montana State Police and the Bureau of Criminal 
Information (BCI), the State's detective division, had also responded, 
and each agency had tried to take control of the scene. The "staties" 
had already called in their Quick Response Team. The BCI folks had 
called a negotiator, and he'd shown up within the hour, arriving by 
helicopter.
	Contact had been established with the...
	Adams couldn't bring himself to call Danny Koss a terrorist.
	A misguided, emotionally disturbed kid, perhaps.
	But not a terrorist.
	Contact had been established with Koss, and Koss had made his 
demands.
	Delivery of something called a MindWalker.
	Whatever the *hell* that was.
	Adams felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself 
staring at one of the most imposing men he'd ever met.
	"Sheriff Adams?" the man asked. Fed, Adams immediately thought. 
The man was dressed in a suit and tie, wearing an ankle-length trench 
coat. His shirt was white, his tie was dark and his shoes fairly gleamed 
in the soft morning light.
	"Yes."
	"Special Agent Pete Nelson, FBI," the man said, offering his 
credentials.
	"Of course," Adams muttered. "I assume you're with the Billings 
office?"
	"No, sir," Nelson said, taking Adams' arm and guiding him away 
from the small crowd of cops and reporters. "I'm actually assigned to 
Washington."
	"What can I do for you?" Adams asked. "I assume you're here to 
take this situation over?"
	"No, sir. Not exactly." And then Pete Nelson told Sheriff Bud 
Adams what Adams could do for him.
	Exactly what.

+=+=
12:10

	Koss hung up the phone and turned to the students.
	"I've just given them fifty minutes to meet my demands. I've also 
told them that if they don't deliver unto me that which I demand, 
starting at exactly thirteen hundred hours, I will begin executing 
hostages at the rate of one per minute until such time as my demands are 
met. If they attempt to rush the building, I've told them that I will 
immediately begin executing hostages without thought or care for my own 
well-being." He paused, and then continued. "See, what that means is 
that normally, if the cops sent the SWAT team in, the hostage taker, 
that's me, will be more worried about dying than killing any of his 
hostages, and so you all would be safer. But that's not the case today. 
I know I'm going to die. I'm either going to die when I say so, or when 
they say so. If they rush the building, or attempt any type of action, I 
will begin killing you all. As will my two friends."
	The other two gunmen nodded grimly. One of them was smiling in a 
very strange way. He'd focused all his attention on the pretty 
cheerleader who'd asked a question at the beginning of the ordeal, to 
the exclusion of the other students.
	Mulder had already mentally written her off.
	He was calculating the odds. He knew that if he were to start 
shooting from where he was now, that at least ten, perhaps as many as 
twenty students would die before he and Scully would be able to get to 
all three gunmen.
	So he had to get closer. Close enough to be able to take his three 
shots as quickly as possible.
	Then, of course, there was the problem with the students. At the 
sound of the first shot, they'd stampede. Mulder would have bet his life 
on it, and he realized he was betting more than just his life, more than 
just Scully's life on that fact.
	So they *both* had to be in a good position to begin shooting.
	Mulder came up with a plan in the space between two heartbeats.
	It might work.
	It had to work.
	"What are your demands?" a student asked.
	Koss smiled. "Well, they've agreed to two out of the three. In 
about half an hour, they're going to send a camera crew in from one of 
the local TV stations. Now, I'm sure they're going to use the camera to 
get a look. To see how we've set up so they can start designing their 
assault. But I have a surprise for them. I won't allow that camera to be 
used against me, so I'm going to turn it off. All I want is the 
microphone."
	Scully closed her eyes and swore softly.
	Mulder's finger tapped the table.
	Opening her eyes, Scully glanced at him, her face asking the 
question: What?
	[Ok,] she heard in her head. [Here's what we're going to do. Just 
after the broadcast is finished, I want you to ask for a drink of water. 
He'll turn you down. Make like you fainted, and I'll rush to your aid. 
I'll pick you up and start heading towards the vending machines. He'll 
tell me to put you down. I'll get as close as I can before putting you 
down. When I do, reach under my jacket and get my pistol. I'll reach 
under yours and get your pistol. When I release you, fall away, low, as 
if you were still unconscious. As soon as you have a clear shot, take 
it. Got it?]
	Scully thought about the plan and nodded. It made sense. It would 
minimize casualties.
	[Got it.]
	[OK. All we do now...is wait.]

+=+=+=+=
END CHAPTER 6