"Umbra" 8/? 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 : May 7, 1997 Archive Entry : Book I, Chapter 8 Classification : Action Adventure, Scully/Other, Scully/Mulder, Mythology Rating : R (Adult Themes, Violence, Adult Language) Enjoy! See the end for definitions of words that I use herein. ====================================================================== "Violence is the quest for identity. When identity disappears with technological innovation, violence is the natural recourse." Marshall LcLuhan "You know what I think about violence. For me it is profoundly moral - more moral than compromises and transactions." Benito Mussolini "We are all shot through with enough motives to make a massacre, any day of the week that we want to give them their head." Jacob Bronowski "Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee Agreed to have a battle; For Tweedle Dum said Tweedle Dee Had spoiled his new rattle." Lewis Carroll -8- Apartment of Dana Scully 0620 Hours Scully woke slowly, enjoying that early morning sluggish-warm feeling. Slowly the realization dawned on her that she wasn't alone, and there was a moment of panic that was more telling than Scully would ever admit when she desperately tried to remember who, exactly, it was she was so comfortably snuggled up against. It was with no small relief that she discovered that it was Mulder. Rarities of rarities, he was actually asleep. She moved slowly, gently, not wanting to wake him right away, taking a few moment to study his slumbering features. She felt a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she realized that the lines of tension that were usually etched into his face during normal waking hours were not visible. His face looked relaxed, almost...happy. She lowered her head again, breathing deep the scent of the both of them. Had she been asked, Dana Scully would have scoffed or laughed at anyone who had suggested that she would ever find herself in the position of waking up, literally, in her partner's arms. Not that Mulder was a toad or a troll. Nothing could be further from the truth. But the fact of the matter was that their relationship, as rewarding, challenging and yes, even exasperating as it was, had limits. Self-imposed, specific, unspoken limits that neither one of them had been willing or ready to break. Until last night, that is. A very private thought slowly crawled across her mind, and she regarded it the same way an entomologist might a particularly interesting bug. Waking up in Mulder's arms was not exactly the worst thing that had ever happened to Scully. Not by a long shot, she realized. Scully enjoyed snuggling as much as the next person, but it had been a long time indeed since she had been held in this way. It felt good, comfortable...right. And that was a very scary thought. Almost as scary as her now- admitted slowly-growing attraction to Matt Stone. Memories of the discussion with Mulder from the previous night began trickling into her consciousness. He was right, she realized. There was no possible way for them to go back to the way things had been between them before last night. But Scully also wasn't sure where, exactly, they had found themselves, relationship-wise. Mulder had really opened his heart to her last night, had listened without judging, had accepted her feelings for Matt without any overtly hostile comments. But really, she thought, why should he care? We're friends and all, she thought, but not quite that... What? Scully found herself struggling to find the words, the concepts to apply to the nature of her relationship with Mulder. It just defied description. They were friends, partners, confidants. And what else? Scully remembered the crush days. Those first few weeks, working with Mulder for the first time, watching his amazing mind work, watching the way he took cases apart like a Swiss watchmaker. She remembered that feeling of almost worshipping him. And then, as the relationship grew and matured, and she realized that Mulder was, in fact, human and that he did make mistakes from time to time (more often than the damnable man would _ever_ admit,) that crush had slowly faded, replaced instead by profound respect and admiration. There was no doubt in Scully's mind that Mulder was her closest friend, and that their relationship was the most profound one she had ever experienced in her life. So, again...why not Mulder? She sighed softly, letting the lesser voices of her personality take over. Taking Mulder on as a romantic partner was just fraught with so much...baggage. He was a deeply damaged, haunted man. Part of that damage manifested itself in such a way that he seemed brilliant, driven, obsessed in his quest for the truth. And she admired that about him. But Scully had seen the dark side to that brilliance, the huge emotional price that Mulder had to pay to exist in the world wired the way he was. And as important as Mulder was to her, Scully wasn't sure she wanted to take that burden on. Mulder stirred against her, his hands tightening around her. Scully smiled, knowing that her closeness and warmth were somehow comforting to Mulder as he slept, and was glad that she could be there for him in this way. It was another step, she realized, another tiny fraction of an inch gained in the Trust Olympics, a seemingly never- ending game between them. As difficult as it was for Mulder to trust anyone, she knew he trusted her, just as she did him. Implicitly. Completely. Without reservation or question. Can't say that about Matt, her mind replied. Scully made a fist and plopped her chin on it, watching him sleep. They would have to get up soon, and then it would be the Morning After. The questions would hang in the air, unasked, unanswered. If this night had happened four years ago, Scully wasn't sure that the partnership would have lasted much longer. But it had happened at the right time, the right moment in their trip through this life together, she thought. We can handle this. We've handled worse. Mulder woke, his eyes opening. He saw Scully staring at him, and he knew that she'd been doing it for a while; her eyes were clear, bright, awake. No sleep-puffiness, no early-morning glaze to give away the fact that she'd just woken. "Morning," he croaked. "Morning," she answered, softly. "We-" "I know. I have to get back to my place. Shower, change clothes, the usual." Having said that, they were both reluctant to move. Scully spread her fingers and rubbed Mulder's chest through his shirt. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he was already moving, using his leverage to sit them both upright on the couch. Running his fingers through his hair, hair that looked like a deranged chef and a MixMaster had gotten a hold of it during the night, Mulder looked pleasantly rumpled. He stood, looking for his jacket. So many thoughts were rushing through his newly-awake mind. He was trying to sort through them all, to categorize them, prioritize them, trying to find a handle on at least one single, discrete thought that he could concentrate on. Scully stood to walk him to the door. Mulder shrugged into his jacket, found his gun, slipped it into his holster, and tried to find something to say. Anything. She walked up to him, very close, inside his space. He liked it when she was there, inside his zone, her head titled up to look into his eyes. She visibly wanted to say something, and Mulder wanted her to, but was afraid to hear what she would say. "Thanks," he said softly. He watched as the expected eyebrow-arch occurred. "Thanks? Mulder, I should be thanking _you_!" He chuckled. "Scully, last night was the first time in a long time that I actually got some sleep. Thanks for...being there," he said, full well knowing that he was taking her off the hook, letting them both deal with what had happened as something that he'd needed. With a single sentence, he'd defused the situation, and to tell the truth, he was kind of pleased with himself for doing so. Scully wasn't buying it, but she decided to let it slide. If that's what made it comfortable, palatable for Mulder, she'd go with it. She quickly leaned up on her toes and kissed the side of his mouth, aiming for the cheek and catching about a quarter of his lips. "You're welcome," she said, turning to open the door. Mulder caught her elbow, using his thumb to turn her back to face him. Without knowing why, he leaned down, tilting his head, moving for her mouth. "Was that a proper good morning kiss?" he asked. Scully's mind froze; she did not know what to say, how to react. All she saw was Mulder's mouth moving towards hers, his eyes slowly closing, all she felt was the tickle of his breath against her cheek, her chin, her nose. And this time it was her, she who acted without knowing why, who felt her own eyes drooping slowly closed, her own head and mouth moving towards his. The contact was brief but electric. He kissed her softly, gently, a swift, tantalizing brush of lips against lips. As chaste a kiss that had ever existed, she thought. And then he was moving past her, reaching for the knob himself, turning it, twisting it, opening the door and stepping out. He turned to look over his shoulder at her, his trademark leer back in place, and Scully knew that it was fake, that it was an act. She knew that that single, gentle, soft kiss had affected him just as much as it had her. She had only to look into his eyes to see that. He smiled and waggled his eyebrows once, a facial shrug that said nothing at all and spoke volumes in the same instant. She raised her hand to shoulder height, spread her fingers and waved, her other hand moving to her mouth, her mind trying to decipher the reason why her lips tingled so. He reached back, his hand finding her shoulder and squeezing once, twice. And then Mulder turned and left Scully alone with her thoughts. She closed the door, turning at the last moment to use her butt to shut it. Oh, Lord, she thought. We're in trouble now! *** Mulder got into his car, moving as quickly as possible. He wanted to get as far away from Scully's apartment as possible as quickly as possible. It wasn't that he was upset, angry, ashamed or afraid. He just wanted as much time as possible before the work day began to go over the night before in his mind. Like Scully, he'd never thought that what had just happened ever would. He twisted the key in the ignition, automatically checking the mirror before pulling into traffic. A flash of light caught his eye, something he recognized from another time, another place. It wasn't recent enough to trigger an instant recall, and it took him almost forty seconds to realize what it was that he'd seen. Sunlight. Reflecting off the highly-polished lenses of a pair of very powerful binoculars. Mulder knew who it was. He had no doubt. His first impulse was to reach for the phone and dial Scully and tell her. She would be furious with Stone. It might actually be the straw that broke the camel's back. Mulder's fingers curled around the bulk of his cell phone. He had removed it from his jacket and was already turning it over in his hand, his thumb moving towards the STO button before he thought better of it. There was a better time, a better place for such a discussion. Mulder dropped the phone on the seat next to him. And began to whistle. *** Office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC 0830 Hours Scully and Mulder arrived at the same time. He had showered and changed, as had she, and they shared a private moment in front of Skinner's door. Without thinking about it, Scully reached up and straightened Mulder's knot, using the fingers of her left hand to smooth the silk flat. Finished, she looked up and smiled primly. It was a very...possessive thing to do, and it filled Mulder with a sense of warmth and comfort. Scully knocked. "Come!" Skinner called, and they entered his office. Matt Stone was already there, in dress blues, as was Admiral Karn, who was wearing khakis. The three silver stars of his rank glittered on his collar point, and Scully wondered if he'd worn the uniform as a way of imposing his will on the situation. Those stars were hard to miss. And there was something different about Stone, too. His dress blues had been updated since the previous day. He was wearing his wings of gold, and his Budweiser in addition to his medals and Master Blaster wings. "Mulder, Scully, come in," Skinner said, standing. "We're just about to get started." "Commander, Admiral," Scully said. Karn smiled and nodded. Stone did not. He moved stiffly to the conference table and sat, refusing to meet Scully's eyes. Confused and more than a little hurt, Scully moved to the other side and joined Mulder. "The purpose of this meeting is to discuss the current situation regarding this investigation, and to make a decision regarding the FBI's continued involvement," Skinner began. He had a pen in his hands and he turned it over and over as he spoke, staring down at the pad of paper in front of him. He was clearly uncomfortable, and Scully had the feeling that Skinner had been undergoing an ass-chewing of epic proportions since last night. The FBI Brass did not like opening the Washington Post to stories about how they had managed to let someone under their protection die. "The investigation into how the person or persons responsible for the murder of Major Haynes is continuing," Skinner continued. "Sir," Stone said, interrupting. "I may have some new information about that." Skinner sat back, using his open hand to indicate that Stone had the floor. "Please, Commander, by all means." Stone looked Mulder directly in the eyes. "Last night, after I dropped Agent Scully off at her home, I did some investigating on my own. There exists technology to defeat the FBI technical surveillance gear. While not exactly common knowledge, it is not that hard to come by if one knows where to look. And if nothing else, the killer has proved that he is a capable operative within the clandestine world. It would not be beyond the realm of possibility for him to have obtained such equipment and utilized it to facilitate the murder of Heat- Major Haynes." Mulder gritted his teeth, watching as Stone out maneuvered him. Mulder would look silly going to Scully now and claiming that the man had been watching her apartment all night. Scully caught the vibe passing between Stone and Mulder and tried to suppress a sigh. She knew, a small part of her had known, that it was eventually going to come to this. Alpha males, trying to establish dominance. Whether it was about the investigation in general, or her specifically, something was going to have to be done. "Very well," Skinner said. "For now, that's the hypothesis we'll work with. The question is...what to we do next?" "If I may," Scully said. "The playing card presents some very interesting angles. As I'm sure the Admiral and Commander Stone are aware, Navy fighter wings all adopt nicknames. One of the units, VF-221, has long been known as the "Blackjacks." I'm of the mind that Commander Stone and I head over to BUPERS and see if we can dig up anything on pilots or crew assigned to VF221 the past." Scully used the oblique threat to capture Stone's attention, and she saw that she had it. He was boring holes in her eyes, trying to discover what she knew by the sheer force of his will. We'll talk, her eyes promised, and he nodded, accepting it. "Good idea," Skinner agreed. "At this point, I'm going to remove myself from day-to-day oversight. I don't want to micromanage this investigation. Admiral, Commander, these two agents are perhaps the best investigative team the FBI has right now, and the brass has made a decision. We've gotten in so far now that to pull away would be political suicide for the Director. Therefore, he's ordered that Mulder and Scully, with Commander Stone's help, be given full reign." Turning to his two agents, Skinner continued. "Mulder, Scully...this is unusual, but for the remainder of this investigation, you will not be filing daily status reports. I will be your point of contact if you need anything, manpower, overtime, anything. But you will be on your own until this case is solved, or you hit a dead end that you cannot surmount. Your travel expenses, if needed, have been preapproved." He paused. "If there aren't any more questions, the Admiral and I have some other issues to discuss." Mulder and Scully exchanged an incredulous glance. What Skinner had just announced was completely, totally unheard of inside the FBI. Two relatively low-level field agents being given complete and utter control of such a sensitive, potentially explosive investigation just did not happen in Federal law enforcement. Mulder was elated. He wouldn't have to go to Skinner anymore to explain his theories, wouldn't have to reveal the information he'd dug up about Stone (or, for that matter, any subsequent information he might come across) until the time was right. Released from the confining ropes of investigative policy and procedure, Mulder was free to do what he did best: take the ball and run like a man with his ass on fire. "No, sir," Mulder said, standing. "No more questions." Scully rose with her partner and followed him out. After a moment, Stone also rose and departed, leaving Admiral Karn and Skinner alone. The door securely shut, Skinner faced his old friend. "You said you had something for me." "Yesterday, DTSA detected two unauthorized accesses to highly classified records dealing with Commander Stone. One was an after action report on a mission that is still so highly classified that I was not given any information about it. The other access was a basic background check, although it was a very sophisticated attempt." Skinner chewed the stem of his glasses. "What do you think it means, Jake?" "It means that my Commander Stone may be in this deeper than I thought, Walter. He may actually be involved. When I called DIA to try and pry some information about the operation out of them, I was told by a two-star piss-ant to go jump in the lake." Skinner grinned. "Couldn't you order him to reveal the information?" "No, doesn't work that way. That little twerp holds my security rating in the palm of his hand. And without a top secret security clearance, I would be out of a job." "Try the back door." "I will. My daughter is married to the J2 over at JCS, a Brigadier General Paul Jiggs. I may place a bug in his ear about this and see what happens." Skinner nodded. "I have to tell you, Jake, I'm taking a lot of heat over this entire investigation." Karn nodded. "I'm aware of that, old friend. As am I. CNO has left me an email requesting my presence in the Tank this afternoon for a little chat. I can only guess what the topic of our little discussion will be, but I will keep you informed as to the outcome." Karn paused. "I just hope they can catch this bastard." Skinner grunted. "Trust me, Jake -- if this asshole can be caught, those two will do it." *** Sixth Floor Mens' Room Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC Mulder checked under all the stalls before dialing. "Lone Gunmen." "It's me. No names." "Mulder! Use a landline!" Mulder grimaced. "I said no names, Frohickie!" Realizing what he'd just done, Mulder smacked his own forehead. "What can I do for you, Mulder?" "I need a name. No arguments, no bullshit. This is the biggest thing you can imagine, Frohickie. I need the-" "Commander Maggie King, BUPERS. But she doesn't know we know who she is, so tread carefully." "Thanks, Frohickie," Mulder said, ending the call. As he hung up, Commander Matthew Stone entered the bathroom, moving to a urinal as he unzipped. "Personal call?" he asked. "Something like that," Mulder said. "Listen, Stone, I have an errand to run. You and Scully going to be ok for a few hours?" Stone finished his business, zipped and turned to face Mulder. "We'll be fine," he said, a snide undercurrent in his voice. Mulder thought about saying something, but decided that he wanted to find out a lot more about this man before confronting him. Mulder pushed past him. "Mulder," Stone called. He turned. "Be careful." There was no mistaking the malice in Stone's voice, and for a moment, Mulder saw the killer inside Stone, saw the face that those thirty soldiers had seen in the Libyan desert. "I will," Mulder promised. *** Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC Mulder entered quickly, using his butt to shut the door behind him. Scully was at her new desk, tapping away on her laptop. "Stone is on to us, I think," he said. "What do you mean, `us'?" Scully asked. "I think he knows we've been checking up on him. That's why he's wearing his wings and that other thing." "His SEAL badge?" "Yes, whatever." "You noticed?" Mulder smiled and took a step towards her. "If I could do what I wanted in this office, Scully, I'd take your face in my hands and tell you that I don't miss anything. Especially when it comes to you. I know Stone's important to you, Scully. Just...be careful, OK?" Scully was touched. She suddenly wished Mulder _would_ take her face in his hands and kiss her again like he had that morning. Mulder smiled, seeing that thought in her eyes. "Maybe later, Scully. I'm off to BUPERS." He turned to go, then stopped. "Whatever decision you make," he said, speaking to the door so he wouldn't have to look at her, "I'll support." "What should I tell Stone?" she asked. Mulder was secretly pleased that she wasn't calling him `Matt' anymore. "Tell him I went hunting for the truth. Actually, tell him I went to DCSPERS to check up on Haynes. That will buy me some time." He had the door halfway open before her voice caught him. "Be careful, Mulder." "I will. Call me." Mulder had been gone for all of ten seconds before Stone made his appearance. "Good morning, Special Agent Scully," he said, formally. "Good morning," she said, arching and eyebrow, asking the silent question with her face: What's wrong? "Sleep well?" he asked. For a trained intelligence officer, he sure as hell gave away a lot with his face. And then she knew. She pursed her lips so he wouldn't see her jaw clenching. The son of a bitch had actually stalked her! "Very well, as a matter of fact," she said, her gaze suddenly chilly. Stone let the silence build between them before finally speaking. "Well, I suppose we should go to BUPERS." Scully suddenly realized that was where Mulder was heading. "No. Let's go to DCSPERS first. I want to do some checking on Heather first. Then we can go to BUPERS." Stone's gaze narrowed. "Sure," he said. "I'll meet you there, if that's all right. I have...an errand to run on the way over." Scully nodded. "Of course." She grabbed her trenchcoat and they left together, heading for the garage. *** Matt watched Scully's Camrey pull out of the FBI lot, his hand already reaching for the cell phone. He dialed quickly. "BUPERS, Commander King, sir." "Hi, Maggie. It's Matt." *** Office of the Chief of Naval Opertions, Bureau of Naval Personnel (BUPERS) Federal Office Building #2 Washington, DC Commander Margaret King, USNR, hung up the phone and promptly said a very unladylike word, a word that rhymed with `brother-trucker.' Of all the people she had never expected to hear from again, Commander Matthew Stone was very high on the list. He was also very high on the list of people that Maggie King never wanted to hear from again. Six years. Six years and the bastard calls as if we're old friends. Like the last time we talked, the last time we saw each other was yesterday! And he had the gall, the unmitigated audacity to ask her to lie. To lie to an FBI agent investigating him in an official capacity. When pigs fly, she thought. Her intercom buzzed. "Yes, Anderson?" Her yeoman spoke through the intercom. "Ma'am, there's a Special Agent Mulder from the FBI on line three for you. Should I take a message?" "No," Maggie said quickly. "I'll take it." With pleasure, she thought. "Commander King speaking, sir," she said, using the proper military protocol for answering a phone. "Commander, my name is Fox Mulder, and I'm a Special Agent with the FBI. I was wondering if I might have a few moments of your time." "Of course, Agent Mulder." "I was wondering if we could meet somewhere." That was an interesting request, she thought. "How about my office?" "Ma'am, with all due respect, this is a matter of some sensitivity. I would appreciate meeting some place public." Matt must be in more trouble than he's letting on, she thought. "Very well. Where would you like to meet?" Mulder named a popular breakfast restaurant in Alexandria, and Maggie quickly agreed. She'd always wanted to eat there. "One more thing," Mulder said before hanging up. "I know a friend of yours, and he asked me to mention him to you. Sort of way of establishing the...sensitivity and need for discretion in this matter." Now Maggie was interested. "Who?" she asked. "Well, you probably know him by a different name than I do. You know him as LoneGunGuy." At the mention of her online friend's screen name, Maggie almost dropped the phone. This Mulder character knew LoneGunGuy! Maybe she could finally learn something about him! "I'll be there in half an hour," Maggie said, dropping the phone back into the cradle without even saying goodbye. She stood, reaching for her jacket, and then stopped. Reaching under her blotter, she found the well-worn, dog-eared envelope and tucked it into her pocket. Grabbing her Navy-issue purse, she headed for the door. *** Patty's Pancakes Alexandria 0940 Hours Mulder stood when he saw Commander King enter the restaurant. He motioned to her, and she hurried to join him. Sliding into the booth opposite him, she leaned forward, her hands together, her eyes bright and alive. "Before we talk about Commander Stone, I have to ask you a question." Mulder was taken completely aback. "How did you know this was about Commander Stone?" "He called me about five minutes before you did, asking me to cover up for him. But that's not important right now. I'll tell you anything you want to know about him. But first-" "What?" "LoneGunGuy. Do you _know_ him?" "Yeah, for about eight years," Mulder said. "Oh, good!" Maggie said. "Tell me about him. Tell me all about him." Mulder felt his world spinning. "Uh...why?" "Because he's just so...wonderful!" Maggie said. "Excuse me?" Maggie reached into her pocket and withdrew the envelope. Sliding it across the table to Mulder, she said, "Wouldn't you say that a man that can write that kind of poetry is wonderful?" Poetry? Mulder thought. I must be dreaming. Frohickie? Poetry? He took the envelope and opened it, sliding out some folded pages. Unfolding them, Mulder saw that they were laser-printer pages. The first one jumped off the page at him: Alas!, how light a cause may move Dissention between hearts that love! Mulder forced his face into a stony mask. He could not laugh. He would not laugh. Only Frohickie would plagiarize Thomas More to seduce someone on the Internet. He turned the page. Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth, Before we grow old and die. Great. William Butler Yeats. He turned the page again. "He sent me that one the first time we went to a private chat room." Mulder was absolutely sure he didn't want to hear any more about _that_. He read: Love, all love of other sights controls. And makes one little room an everywhere. Mulder sighed. Well, at least his taste in poets was improving. John Donne this time. "So?" Maggie insisted. "What's he like?" "Uh-" "I assume he does something terribly secret for the government." Mulder felt his eyebrows crawling up his face in disbelief. He had no desire to mislead this woman, but he needed her, needed her desperately. "He works outside the normal channels, that much is true. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you more than that." He hated himself, but he had to say it. "It might put his life in danger. You understand." "Oh yes, of course!" Maggie said, blushing. "If you talk to him tell him that...tell him I said hi." "I'll be sure to do that," Mulder said, feeling the waves of laughter that had been threatening to explode slowly receding. "Now, about Commander Stone?" Maggie sighed, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "That bastard. What do you want to know?" "Everything," Mulder said. "Well, a lot of it is highly classified-" "Commander Stone is...involved in a murder investigation. A multiple murder investigation." "Is he a suspect?" Maggie asked. "I'm not at liberty to say. But his involvement is...substantial." Maggie nodded. "It was bound to happen." "What?" "His taste for blood. It was bound to catch up to him eventually." Mulder felt like he was one huge ear, a virtual recording device. His photographic memory was on full RECORD mode. "Could you go into a bit more detail?" Maggie sighed, sitting back again. "How much do you know?" "I know that he was in Libya in 82, and that he was charged with the unlawful taking of human life. But since he's still in the Navy, and I can't find any record of him having served a moment of time, I assume he was acquitted." "No," Maggie said, her eyes far away. "The charges were dropped. But that's not the worst part." Mulder said nothing, using the old interrogator's trick of letting the subject fill in the silent spaces. "The mission profile was complicated. This isn't in his official records, Agent Mulder. I got this from him via...other means." Pillowtalk, Mulder thought, but said nothing. "The mission was related to the nuclear arms program that was being jointly developed by Libya and Chad. A clandestine mission to destroy the processing plant that Libya was using to develop weapons- grade plutonium. Matt was the Air Commander for the mission. He was flying an F-14 in a close-air support mission. Navy SEALs were the ground element. "When the SEALs arrived on scene, a Libyan transport plane showed up, dropping airborne troops. Or, what looked to be airborne troops, anyway. Stone was given the weapons-clear order by the action officer, and ordered to kill as many of them as he could. "He used his 20 millimeter cannon, Special Agent Mulder. He made six passes, using the Vulcan like a firehose. The Libyans dropped over three hundred troops. They also had a unit of troops on the ground that we didn't know about, a small special operations-style force. They had Stingers that had been purchased from Afghanistan. Matt was shot down. He ejected, and came down right in the middle of it all. "There were about sixty survivors, and the action officer ordered them all executed. Some of the SEALs refused, and Matt offered to do it. He killed thirty of them himself." Mulder nodded. "That much I was aware of." "Well, you probably don't know this part. It was not exactly a diversion, but it was a setup. The troops? OpSec had been broken; Qadaffi knew we were coming, and he set us up. Set us up to take the blame in the international geopolitical arena. They weren't airborne paratroopers. "They were children, Mr. Mulder. The oldest one was perhaps fifteen years old. Commander Matthew Stone, USN, personally executed thirty children in the furtherance of his country's foreign policy." ====================================================================== END CHAPTER 7. Werdz -n- Stuff Budweiser - The distinctive Navy SEAL badge, called so because of its visual similarity to the beer company logo of the same name. The SEAL badge depicts an eagle straddling a trident (pitchfork), clutching a musket-style pistol in one talon and several arrows in the other. BUPERS - US Navy Bureau of PERSonnel. The "Human Resources" agency of the US Navy. CNO - Chief of Naval Operations, the highest-ranking uniformed member of the US Navy. DIA- Defense Intelligence Agency. Pentagon agency charged with collecting and analyzing military intelligence for the US Military. DCSPERS - Deputy Chief of Staff, Personnel. The US Army department that provides the same function as BUPERS does for the Navy. DTSA - Defense Technical Security Agency. Agency responsible for information security (on a day-to-day basis) of all US Military computers. The NSA (National Security Agency) is responsible for setting policies and procedures, but DTSA provides the investigation and enforcement arm of the US Military for computer break-ins. (Pronounced "DIT-SA") J2 - Joint Intelligence. In the US Army, G1 is Personnel, G2 is Intelligence, G3 is Plans & Operations, and so forth. At the JCS (Joint Chiefs of Staff) level, where the four services interact, the staff positions are signified by the letter "J". At the division level, it is "S1" and "S2" and so forth. JCS - Joint Chiefs of Staff. The six member committee made up of the Chairman, the Vice Chairman, and the heads of the four branches of the US Military. (Chief of Staff of the Army and Air Force, the Chief of Naval Operations, and the Commandant of the US Marine Corps.) What many people do not realize is, by a matter of LAW, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs has no military authority over any of the services; his role (by law) is that of `chief military advisor to the President, the Secretaries of Defense and State, and the Congress.' It is only by tradition that the CJCS wields as much power as he does. Khaki Uniform - The Navy Dress Blue uniform is worn with a white dress shirt. There are no rank insignia on the white shirt, and the dress blue jacket, instead of having the stars of an Admiral pinned the epaulets (as in the Army, Air Force and Marine Corps,) the Navy uses a series of wide and narrow gold bands to signify rank. In the dress blue uniform jacket, the gold bands are positioned on the cuffs of the sleeves. For the uninitiated, it's very hard to determine the specific rank. A single thin band signifies an Ensign (the lowest rank of officer,) while four wide gold bands signify a Captain (highest rank in the Navy before Flag, or Admiral, rank.) For those that care about such trivia, you can also determine what the specific officer does for a living by looking at the sleeve. A gold star signifies an Officer of the Line, meaning an officer who is in the chain of command with respects to war fighting units. Legal officers (JAG, anyone?) have a different insignia, as do doctors and supply/logistics specialists. Master Blaster Wings - Master Parachutists' Wings. The only difference between a normal pair of parachutists' wings and the Master rating is a star inside a silver wreath mounted on top of the parachute. OPSEC - Operational Security. The process of trying to keep the plans and specifics about an upcoming military action secret from your targets. SCIF -Special Classified Intelligence Facility - super bug-proof bubble room. TANK - The SCIF dedicated to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Tank is a bugproof conference room in the Pentagon used as a Situation Room and secure conference room. USNR - United States Naval Reserve. Naval officers can be commissioned by Congress either into the `regular' Navy or into the Naval Reserve. Reserve officers can apply for Extended Active Duty Tours, and serve as if they were `regular' officers, ie, up until legal retirement age. The number of `regular' Navy officers is set by legal statute, and in times of force reduction, USNR officers are the first to go since they serve `at the pleasure of the Congress.' Water Wings - The badge worn by US Naval Officers that signify they have completed the Surface Warfare School, which also means they are qualified to conn (drive) a ship of the line. Silver water wings are worn by enlisted men, gold by officers.