"Umbra" 2/?
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.

Original Post  :  April 26, 1997
Archive Entry  :  Book I, Chapter 2
Classification :  Action Adventure
Rating         :  PG-13, Adult Themes
Summary	       :  Picks up where chapter 1 left off. Scully and Mulder
		  report to Skinner's office on his orders, and meet up
		  with Admiral Karn and Commander Matthew Stone, NIS.

Enjoy!
===================================================================

				       -2-


Office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner,
Federal Bureau of Investigation
J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington, DC


	Mulder turned to study his reflection in the glare of the window
directly outside Skinner's office, his hand moving automatically to
adjust his tie. Stork-like, he stood on one foot and quickly buffed the
toes of his shoes on the back of his pants legs.
	"Do you have any idea what he wants?" he asked Scully.
	His diminutive partner glanced over her shoulder back at him and
raised a single, silently sarcastic eyebrow. "No idea, Mulder. What do
you think he caught you doing this time? How many important pairs of
toes have you stepped on recently?"
	"Just the woman I went dancing with last night," he said with a
shrug. Scully's eyebrow arched a notch higher, but she wisely chose to
keep her mouth shut. She had little doubt that Mulder's claim of being
out on a date last night was, at best, an outright lie, and at worst,
the frustrated fantasies of a man who had spent the better part of his
adulthood with a `life' on back order.
	"Well," Mulder said, his voice sounding strangled and strange,
even to himself, "there's only one way to find out."
	Quietly, so only her partner could hear, Scully muttered, "Into
the valley of death rode the four hundred..."
	As she raised her hand to knock, Mulder whispered back, "I
wouldn't mind having the other three-hundred and ninety-eight as
backup..."
	Scully grinned and knocked in the prescribed FBI manner. Sharply,
twice, with all four knuckles.
	"Come," Skinner called. Pushing the door open, Scully entered the
AD's office, followed closely by her partner. They both noticed
immediately that their boss was not alone. Two US Navy officers sat on
the couch. Dana's practiced eye swept over the two men, cataloging and
judging in an instant. The older of the two was a three-star flag
officer, a Vice Admiral. He wore a chest full of ribbons, badges and
devices. He had his water-wings, which meant that he was qualified to
command a ship of the line, and judging by the small gold star above his
right breast pocket, he had once commanded such a ship. He wore the
requisite "I was there" ribbons that one would expect an officer of, oh,
about thirty years-worth of experience to wear.
	The younger one was more interesting, though. His Navy blue dress
uniform told a much different story. He wore almost as many ribbons as
his superior, but they were of a different kind. His was the first Naval
uniform Scully had ever seen that sported such an unusual collection of
baubles.
	Centered, alone on its own row, was the small purple and white
striped ribbon that signified that the owner had been awarded the Navy
Cross, the Navy's second-highest award for valor. Below that was the
Distinguished Service Medal, usually only awarded to Army personnel.
Below the ribbons, centered on the left breast pocket itself was a set
of Master Parachutists Wings, with a star signifying a combat jump. She
saw by the three gold stripes on his sleeves that the younger man was a
Commander, equivalent in rank to an Army Lieutenant Colonel. Only then
did Scully raise her eyes to the face of the man sitting inside the
uniform.
	There was something there, something behind his eyes that caught
her attention. A coldness, a sense of emotional distance. He sat with
his hands folded neatly in his lap, his legs crossed at the knee. Well
turned out, Ahab would have said, she thought. A fine young officer in
the peak of his career. Probably on the selection list for Captain. No,
she corrected herself, he's too young. He looks to be no more than
thirty-four or thirty-five years old. For that matter, he's too young
for the three stripes of a full commander.
	I bet there's a story in _that_, Scully thought.
	"Mulder. Scully," Skinner said. "Please come in." The two agents
advanced through the office to their customary position in front of
Skinner's desk, hands on the chairs they stood behind.
	"Have a seat," he offered, pointing with his pen. Mulder sat, and
Scully followed suit. Skinner finished reviewing the report on his desk,
signed it, closed the folder, tossed it into his OUT box, and finally
looked up at his two favorite agents.
	"We have a situation," he began. Mulder started squirming almost
at once, eager to find out what delicious, tasty treat Skinner was about
to throw in his lap.
	"You both noticed our guests. I'd like to introduce you to-" As
Skinner spoke, both Mulder and Scully stood and turned to face the naval
officers. "Admiral Jake Karn and Commander Matthew Stone." Mulder
extended his hand and shook with both Karn and Stone. Scully followed
suit, her hand lingering just a little bit longer in Stone's than it had
to. She looked into his eyes and saw that same something behind them.
	"Matt," he said softly.
	"Dana," she added, and then quickly withdrew her hand. My God, she
thought, am I actually blushing?
	Skinner stood amongst them and pointed to the conference table.
"Perhaps we'd all be more comfortable there," he said, leading the way.
The foursome, led by Skinner, quickly assumed seats around the table.
	"Perhaps it'd be best if I let Admiral Karn begin." The Admiral
shifted in his chair to face the two X-Files agents. "About three and a
half years ago, a man was killed in a car bomb explosion outside of
Little Creek, Virginia. Because he was assigned to a classified unit,
and had been on several missions of a sensitive nature, the matter was
quietly handled by both the NIS and the Little Creek police.
	"Now, that in and of itself is not exactly news. We've lost people
before to terrorist activity, but never in this country. Shortly after
that, an employee of another agency, with a very unique job description
was shot dead in an apartment in Sterling, Virginia. Again, considering
the nature of his job, it was not exactly something to trip any wires.
Again, because he worked in a sensitive job, the murder was handled very
quietly, very discretely."
	Karn paused, shifted in his seat, and began again. "I see now that
my decision to...take that course of action was motivated more out of
political concerns...the embarrassment it might cause an administration
that had way, way too many of them already than concern for my men."
Karn paused again. "I don't know how much either of you know about the
military, but the US Navy is very special in one specific way. When an
officer takes command of a unit, he takes complete and utter command of
the officers and men under him. He is responsible not only for their
military lives, but their personal lives as well. The lives of the wives
and children, and in some cases the husbands," he added quickly,
glancing at Scully.
	"My father was a career officer. Finished as a Captain," Scully
said. Matt Stone, who had been studying the table, looked up with new
interest in his eyes.
	Scully and Stone locked gazes across the table for a long moment.
	"Captain Bill Scully?" Stone finally asked. Silently, Scully
nodded. "I thought so," Matt said. "You have his eyes, if I may say so."
	Despite every effort to the contrary, Scully felt the blush
creeping up her neck again. She didn't answer him, however, and after an
awkward moment of silence, the meeting continued.
	"I'm glad to hear that, Agent Scully, because I feel horrible that
I let political considerations get in the way of being a good commanding
officer."
	"Be that as it may," Mulder said, interrupting with a snide tone
in his voice, "I fail to see how any of this is an FBI matter. Admiral
Karn, I believe you are the head of the Naval Investigative Service?"
	Karn nodded. "I've been the Commanding Officer for three years
now. I'm due to be promoted to CINC of the Sixth Fleet in about four
months."
	"....and this could hold up that `ol promotion, am I right?"
	Without knowing why, Scully kicked Mulder under the table. He
glanced back at her, and those silent, undetectable communication
channels opened between the two partners. I'm sorry, he thought to her.
	Play nice, she thought back.
	Chastised, Mulder turned his attention back to the meeting. Out of
the corner of his eye, Mulder caught a perplexed expression on Stone's
face. The commander had caught the silent exchange between he and
Scully, and was wondering what had just happened.
	"If you'll allow the Admiral to finish, Mulder, you might learn
why <I> think this is an FBI matter." Skinner was growling, his voice
holding a dangerous, steely edge. Both Mulder and Scully knew that tone,
and knew when it was possible to push Skinner that one extra inch.
	This wasn't one of those times.
	Karn coughed nervously and then continued. "The thing of it is,
Agent Mulder, that...well, this is kind of hard to believe, but there
is...physical evidence that leads me to believe that the murderer is the
same person."
	"Fingerprints?" Scully asked.
	Karn nodded. "Yes, a single print. Right thumb. Left at all the
murder scenes, and frankly, it looks as though the print were left on
purpose. At the first scene, the car bombing, the transmitter was wiped
clean, except for the single right thumbprint. At the second scene, the
one where a CIA employee was..." Karn trailed off, realizing his
mistake.
	"Sir," Stone interrupted. "If we're going to get these two agents'
help...it was bound to come out eventually."
	Karn nodded. "You're right, Matt. Anyway, as I was saying, the
second murder, a CIA employee, who was shot four times...the murder
weapon was a .22 Ruger pistol. The gun was wiped clean..."
	"Except for a right thumbprint," Scully finished.
	Karn nodded again. "Yes, Agent Scully. The same right thumbprint."
	Scully shrugged. "Is there a question as to who the print belongs
to? I thought that NIS had access to the NCIC."
	Stone began speaking, directly to Scully. "Yes, we do, Agent
Scully. And we know who the print belongs to. But that's the problem. It
can't possibly belong to who the computer says it does."
	Now Scully was confused. The concept that the NCIC would make a
mistake like that was unheard of. Despite the rash of stories in the
press highlighting the shortcomings of the once-vaunted FBI
criminalistics lab, it was neigh-on impossible to make a mistake with a
fingerprint. The querying department only had to ask for a hand-search,
and a FBI fingerprint technician would hand-compare the prints. And a
human never made a mistake like that.
	Never.
	"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say," Scully
said.
	Karn picked up the story again. "The fact of the matter is that
the man the NCIC says matches the print died almost thirty years ago in
Vietnam."
	Mulder interrupted. "How do you know this, Admiral?"
	"Because I was standing outside the hooch the man was in when the
VC began a rocket and mortar attack. I didn't look away, and I didn't
flinch. The rocket took the hooch dead on. Furthermore, I identified
what was left of the body, and since the man in question was one of my
best friends, I escorted the body back to the states for burial. I,
myself, was with the body from the time the rocket hit until the first
shovelfull of dirt hit the casket. And I'm telling you that the man the
NCIC says matches the thumbprint is dead. I watched him die. Is that
good enough for you, Agent Mulder?"
	Mulder sat back, rubbing the tip of his chin with the side of a
finger. "Good enough. Let me ask you a question. This may sound a little
odd, but what are the chances that someone may have removed the man's
finger during embalming?"
	Scully interrupted. "Mulder, it's impossible to keep a finger
viable enough to leave fingerprints for close to thirty years. It's just
not possible."
	Mulder turned to his partner. "As far as we know," he said out of
the side of his mouth. "Admiral?"
	"Not possible," Karn said, shaking his head. "I said I was with
the body every moment, and I'm not kidding. My own hoochmates brought me
a change of clothes and packed my duffel. The body was not out of my
sight for almost seventy-two hours, and after that, it was buried at
Arlington."
	Mulder switched tactics. "What are the chances that the body was
exhumed and then the hand or finger removed?"
	Stone stepped in again. "I thought of that, Mulder. As insane as
it sounds, I thought that...well, if you think about it, it's a very
good idea for someone who doesn't want to be found. Take a hand from a
dead body and leave fingerprints all over the murder scene. Send the
cops searching in circles. But when I went to Arlington and checked, the
grave had not been disturbed in any way."
	"Again," Mulder pointed out. "As far as you know."
	Stone sat up straighter, his eyes flashing in anger. "Let me tell
you something, mister..."
	Scully had a sudden thought, and was immediately ashamed.
	God, he's handsome.
	"...I went to Arlington, and I exhumed the body myself. The seals
that Graves Registration puts on all the caskets was intact. I took the
seals off, replaced them with new ones, and had the damn glue on the
back analyzed. According to your own labs, Agent _Mulder_, the glue was
dated at 1970. So, no, no one opened the damn casket and took the hand."
	Mulder sat back this time, slouching in his chair, his eyes far
away. Skinner made a motion towards Stone with his hand, a "leave him
alone" gesture that was unmistakable. Mulder could be a total pain in
the ass sometimes, but Skinner knew "Spooky Mode" when he saw it. Mulder
was gone, had left for some other point in his own personal existence,
and was busy connecting dots and drawing conclusions where no rational
investigator would be able to see any. It was amazing, sometimes, but
the emotional and political cost was sometimes very high.
	Skinner felt that this might be one of those times.
	Scully took the time to study Stone obliquely. Her earlier thought
had not gone away, and she realized with a start that she was attracted
to the tall, muscular naval officer.
	Muscular? Where had _that_ thought come from?
	And then Scully did what she always did. She took the feelings,
turned them over in her mental hands, examined them closely the way a
child might look at an especially shiny or smooth stone, and then
skipped it across the pond in her mind, letting them sink to the bottom
of her consciousness. Best not to have thoughts like that, Dana, she
thought. Unprofessional. Dangerous.
	Arousing.
	"Well," Mulder said, coming out of his now-famous trance, "there
are only a few possibilities. First, the man that died in the hooch was
not the man you thought he was, Admiral. Someone had assumed the
identity of your killer. Second, someone did manage to get the finger or
the hand from this man, and has managed to keep it viable enough to
leave fingerprints for thirty years. Third..." Mulder trailed off.
	"Let me ask you a hypothetical question, Admiral."
	"Go ahead."
	"First...how much do you know about zombies?"
	Four mouths dropped open at Mulder's question, and eight eyes
turned and focused on him.
	"You _can't_ be serious!" Karn protested.
	"No, no," Mulder said, holding up a placating hand. "Let me
finish..."
	"Mulder, that's enough." Skinner straightened. "As of this moment,
the FBI is joining the investigation into this...matter. Agent Scully...
Mulder, Commander Stone, who himself is a Special Agent of the Naval
Investigative Service, will be joining the investigation as an equal
partner. He is to be given all that he needs." Skinner sighed. "Mulder,
you're in charge. Find out what the hell is going on here, and find out
fast."
	"Don't want to lose that fourth star, do we?" Mulder said
insolently. Skinner gritted his teeth, knowing that it was the price he
would have to pay for Mulder to give the case his full attention. He was
such a pain in the ass, but once he got his say in, he would dive into
the case with both feet, making sure that no stone was left unturned and
no toes left untrod-upon.
	"Yes, if that's the way you want to look at it, Mulder. But you
have to admit that it _does_ fit the profile of an X-File."
	"That, or the second coming of Christ," Mulder remarked dryly. He
sighed deeply. "Very well..." Turning his attention to Commander Stone,
Mulder asked, "I'll need all your source material, Commander."
	Stone nodded at Mulder's courtesy of using his military title. "I
brought slides," he offered.
	"Cool," Mulder replied, his face splitting in a wide grin.
	"I'm prepared to give you a full briefing as soon as this meeting
breaks up."
	Scully rolled her eyes. Boys and their toys. A slide show. Just
what Mulder needed to _really_ sink his teeth into this case.

***
Office of Fox Mulder
FBI Headquarters
J. Edgar Hoover Building

	"Need any help?" Mulder asked, moving to stand from behind his
desk.
	"Nope," Stone said, fiddling with the slide projector. "Almost got
it." He twisted the circular carousel left, then right, and felt it
snap! into place with a satisfying solidity.
	"Dim the lights, please?" he asked Scully. She was standing
against the door, arms crossed across her chest. Nodding, she reached
over and flicked the switch, throwing the room into darkness. A moment
later the slide projector clicked on. The first slide was obviously an
official US Navy photograph.
	"Tony Calandra, US Navy. Assigned to SEAL Team Six. Killed by a
car bomb in Little Creek, Virginia, May 20, 1995. Forensics show that it
was a fifteen-ounce shaped Semtex charge under the driver's seat.
Expertly designed and detonated. No external damage to any other car,
pedestrian or passerby. Blew out both windows, but aside from killing
Calandra, that was the only damage. Right thumb print was left on the
rear of the radio transmitter, found in a rented loft sixty feet from
the bomb. "
	Click!
	"Geoff Sanders. Contract hitter for the Central Intelligence
Agency. Killed in a girlfriend's apartment on July 25, 1997. Shot twice
in the heart, twice in the head. Murder weapon was a .22 Ruger with
subsonic, soft-nosed killing rounds. Right thumb print matching the
print at the Calandra murder found on the grip."
	Click!
	"Gerald Smith, US Army Ranger. Assigned to the 1st Ranger
Battalion. October 10, 1995.Discovered in his car, parked, in the lot of
a 7-11 in Dunwoody, Georgia while on leave. Neck broken in four places.
Forensics shows that the killer used a move that has been taught to the
Rangers since World War II for silent, quick killing."
	Click!
	"Marty Dorsen. US Army Special Forces. Master Sergeant. Speaks
English, Spanish, Farsi, Arabic, and oddly enough, Russian. Cross
trained in communications and demolitions. Sergeant Dorsen was also a
diabetic. Someone put the dormant agent of a binary poison in his
insulin. When the second agent was introduced, probably by osmotic skin
absorption, he had a massive heart attack and died. Originally
classified as natural causes by the local police department. Killed on
October 19, 1995."
	Click!
	"Jose Montoya. US Army, Delta Force. Sniper. Captain. Won a bunch
of thousand-yard matches before joining the service. Participated in the
Iranian hostage rescue attempt. Killed while hunting in upstate New York
on November 19, 1995." Stone paused, trying to hide the irony in his
voice. "Killed by a .306 round fired from over six hundred yards away.
Single shot, on the bridge of the nose. Classified as a hunting accident
by local authorities."
	Click!
	"Mel Adams. United States Air Force. Major. Qualified fighter
pilot. Flew F-15 Strike Eagles for both the Grenada and Panama
invasions. Broke a leg playing polo in West Palm Beach in 1989.
Grounded. Joined the Air Commandos, became a specialist in Escape and
Evasion. Also killed while hunting in Bear Creek, Colorado."
	"Shot?" Scully asked.
	"No. Garroted from behind. Took about three-quarters of his head
off."
	"Oh," she said quietly.
	Stone put down the projector remote and walked into the light.
"These six men, on the surface, have nothing in common except for the
fact that they are all military officers. However, they do have
something in common, something that is not very widely known." Stone
paused, gathering his thoughts. "What I am about to tell you is very,
very highly classified. Word of this cannot leave this room.
Understood?" He looked at Scully, who nodded, and then at Mulder, who
hesitated but finally nodded as well.
	"Very well." Stone stepped back behind the project and reclaimed
the remote.
	Click!
	"Heather Haynes. Major, US Army. Military Intelligence. Analyst.
Currently assigned as liaison between the Defense Intelligence Agency
and the US Army Deputy Chief of Staff for Intelligence. She is not dead.
But she has the same thing in common with all the men that they have in
common with each other."
	Stone paused for a very long moment and then pressed the button on
the projector one final time.
	"Matthew Stone, US Navy," he began, almost stopping when he heard
Scully gasp behind him. "Former Navy SEAL, currently assigned as Special
Agent, Naval Investigative Service." He paused, and then added with a
laugh, "Also not dead. Yet."
	Mulder nodded at Scully, who turned on the lights. "Ok," he said.
"You have my attention. What's the connection?"
	Stone took the only chair in the office not occupied and crossed
his legs. "This is the classified part. Are you familiar with Goblin
Teams?"
	Mulder's mouth opened and he stood. "Dammit, I should have known
it would be something like that!" Stone was obviously surprised at
Mulder's reaction.
	"What's a Goblin Team?" Scully asked.
	"Hit teams," Mulder said, spitting the words at Stone. "High-level
intelligence agents, commandos, trained killers sent out by the
government to do its' dirty work. Denied at the highest levels, but they
exist, as we've just seen." He paused, trying to catch his breath. "They
take the best of the best, Scully, the cream of the crop. And train them
to be brutal killers, train them to get the job done, no matter what.
Send them out on missions...assassinations. Murders."
	Scully frowned and looked at Stone. "Is this true?"
	"Yes and no," he said uncomfortably. "True, we have been assigned
to...sanctioning projects-"
	"Oh, is that the phrase they're using now?" Mulder demanded.
"Terminate with extreme prejudice has such a nice ring to it! What
happened?"
	"It got overused," Stone said quietly. "Anyway...we did get
assigned...wetwork-"
	"Just say it!" Mulder demanded. "Just say the word, Stone."
	"Fine, Mulder. We were tasked with assassination projects. Are you
happy?"
	"No."
	"Excuse me," Scully interjected. "But government-sponsored
assassination is prohibited under an Executive Presidential Order signed
by Ford. We don't do that anymore. This country isn't supposed to be in
the assassination business!"
	Stone nodded. "Except for the fact that Bush signed another order,
a order so classified that not a single copy of it exists outside of the
one that lives inside the personal classified documents safe that
belongs to the Director of Central Intelligence. We got our hunting
license back in time for the Gulf War."
	"Wonderful," Mulder muttered.
	"Anyway..."
	"You were on this team?" Scully wanted to know. Stone twisted in
his seat to face her. "Yes," he said quietly. "I was the Executive
Officer of Goblin Team Twelve."
	"They're TWELVE of those teams?" Mulder exploded.
	"Actually, twenty-five."
	Mulder just sat back, his mouth hanging open in surprise. "I can't
believe this. This is a nightmare. That's it. It's a nightmare. I'm
going to wake up..on..my..couch..right..now....."
	"So let me see if I get this right," Scully said, walking over to
the screen, where the image of him was still displayed. "All the
victims, excepting you and Heather, were on Goblin Team Twelve."
	"That's correct."
	"And someone is killing all of the members, one by one."
	"That's also correct."
	"Has anyone warned Major Haynes?"
	Stone started to squirm. "Not exactly."
	"Why the hell not?" Scully wanted to know.
	"Admiral Karn wants us to...the thing of it is, Scully, that Karn
thinks the three of us, if we do this right, can catch this son-of-a-
bitch when he makes a try for Haynes. He wants us to stake her out and
grab this asshole."
	Scully nodded, accepting the logic. "But, still, couldn't we warn
her?"
	Stone shook his head. "Our target is a trained intelligence
professional. He would know if we'd told her. She would act different,
somehow. He would sense it, and then vanish into the wind."
	"How can you be so sure?" Scully insisted.
	Stone said nothing, but stood and walked over to the projector. He
grabbed the remote one more time and clicked the button.
	The image changed.
	Scully turned and faced the screen. As the image came into her
view, she heard Mulder swear softly behind her. "Oh. My. God." He said.
	Up on the screen was another image, this time of a man in his
early thirties. He was tan, fit and trim, and was smiling at the camera.
Scully looked at the image on the screen and then back at Matt.
	"Matthew Stone, Jr.," Stone confirmed. "My father. The right
thumbprint recovered at the scene belongs to my father, who was
apparently killed in action at Da Nang airbase in 1970 by a VC rocket."

*******************
End Chapter 2