"Umbra" 10/? 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. No infringement of any copyright is intended. Characters created by the author remain his property. Original Post : May 15, 1997 Archive Entry : Book I, Chapter 10 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. ===================================================================== Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC 1145 Hours Fox Mulder sat at his desk, working the phones. Maggie King had given him a ton of information, and he was desperately trying to make something out of it. Glancing at his watch as he dialed, Mulder tried to estimate how much time he had before Scully and Stone returned from the Pentagon. His other line trilled. "Mulder." "Hi, Mulder, it's me." "Hi, Scully." "Listen, Matthew and I were going to grab a bite to eat before we came back to the office, and we were wondering if you wanted to join us." God bless Scully, Mulder thought. With one simple sentence, she'd managed to convey several facts at once, and all of them under the nose of Commander Matthew Stone, USN. First, by calling him "Matthew" instead of "Matt," she was telling Mulder that while she stil had Stone's confidence, she was not falling back under his spell. Second, she was asking if he needed more time alone in the office. Third, she was telling him that she was with Stone, that he was right next to her, probably listening to her side of the conversation, without coming right out and saying it. Five years of working together had paid off, that was for sure. "How is the Commander?" Mulder asked, wanting more information about his whereabouts. "Right now he's sitting across from me trying to decide on a double or a triple burrito, Mulder. He followed me from the Pentagon and made me pull into this grease trap. I guess he figured since we've been partners for so long, I'd be used to eating food like this." Ok, that meant Stone couldn't overhear his voice. Good. "Keep him busy, Scully. I've got a pile of phone calls to make, and I want to get them done before he gets there. I need to ask you something; just say yes or no. Is the file on Haynes with you?" "No." "In the car?" "Yes." "Ok...here's what we need to do. We need to find a connection between Haynes, Stone, Iraq and Libya. I'm convinced they're releated somehow. I have some leads on some people that served with him in Libya, and some of the officers that sat on his Article 32 investigation board. Call me before you come back, ok?" "Ok, Mulder, but you're missing really good chili!" Mulder smiled in the dim light of his office. "I miss you too, Scully." He could hear Scully's answering smile. He decided to play with her...just a little. "Hey, Scully...what are you wearing?" Her answer was swift and fatal. "Oh, yeah, I can bring some back for you. What would you like?" Mulder laughed into the phone. "Two helpings? Extra hot? Ok, Mulder, but judging by the face Matthew is making, I don't think he believes you can eat all that. It's up to you to defend the FBI's honor!" Serves me right, Mulder thought. "Talk to you, Scully," he said, hanging up. He went back to working the phones. The name on his pad was Steven Hamm. According to the data King had given him, Steven Hamm was a 21- year Navy veteran, a mustang who had risen to the rank of Commander before retiring in 1985. He'd spent most of his career in Naval Special Warfare, starting out first as a frogman, then moving to the UDT teams, and then finally to the SEALS in 1974. He had a masters degree in International Relations from Auburn University, and was currently the sole owner and proprietor of Swimmin' Steve's Scuba Shop in Fort Pierce, Florida. In the back of Mulder's eidetic memory, he recalled that the UDT/SEAL Museum was in Ft. Pierce. He dialed quickly. "Swimmin' Steve's" a voice answered. "Is this Steve Hamm?" Mulder asked. "Yes. Who's this?" "My name is Fox Mulder. I'm a Special Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and I'd like to ask you a few questions if I could." There was a brief pause. Mulder could hear movement on the other end of the phone, and then, finally, "This is about that prick Stone, isn't it?" Mulder felt his pulse quicken. "Mr. Hamm?" "Call me Steve, Fox." Mulder bit back the urge to order the man to call him Mulder. Normally he would, but he needed Hamm, needed him badly. "Why would you say that?" Another pause. "I'm right though, aren't I?" Fox swallowed. It was bad interrogation technique to give too much away too early. But he had a gut feeling about this one. "Yes. Yes it is, Steve. I need to talk to you about Stone and Libya." "Mr. Mulder, you better move in some pretty high and powerful circles to have the fucking balls to call me about an operation that never took place on an open fucking phone line!" Mulder gulped. Dammit! "Of course, Steve. Forgive me. Would it be possible for you to come to Washington?" "D.C.? Now? Today?" "Yes. My partner and I'd like to speak with you about Commander Stone." "If you know as much as I think you do, Mr. Mulder, the answer is staring you right in the face. But seeing as how you're probably one of them college boys who thinks too damn much with his head and not enough with his guts and his balls, I'll come up there and head-shed with you. What time?" "As soon as possible, sir. I can have a ticket sent-" "Forget it, Mulder. I'll pay my own way. Give me a number to contact you when I get there." Mulder gave him his cellular number and exacted a promise to have Hamm call the moment he touched down. Disconnecting the call, Mulder reached down and flipped to the next page of his notebook and prepared to dial again. *** In Fort Pierce, Florida, Steve Hamm stood in his scuba shop, staring at the phone in his hand. He tapped his nails against the receiver, making a decision. Grunting, he lifted the phone and began to dial. "It's me. I just got the call," he said. "We need to talk." *** El Terraro's Mexican Restaurant 14th and K Streets NW Washington, DC 1202 Hours "So," Commander Matthew Stone said, putting his fork down, "why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" Scully felt her stomach coiling and tightening, and she wished Mulder were there. She blinked that thought away, already mentally chastising herself. You're an adult, completely independent woman, Dana. You can handle this asshole. You've handled worse. Have I? She looked up into the eyes of a man who had all but declared his love for her the day before. She had no doubt in her mind that his so- called tacit admission was nothing more than a ploy to control her, to gain access to the information she possessed through her emotions. He had done the same with Heather and God only knew how many other women. She saw the flatness in his eyes; they looked like lizards' eyes. "Matt, it's not that anything's bothering me...it's just that..." she made a show of searching for the words, even going to far as to nervously twist her napkin in her hands, trying to make herself look like the typical nervous woman struggling with new, powerful emotions while basking in the presence of the Sex God himself. The thought, although amusing, was dangerous, because it threatened to bring a smile to a face Scully was desperately trying to keep straight. "The thing of it is...well, when this assignment is over...what happens then?" Stone dabbed at the corner of his mouth with the paper napkin, studying her. "I'm not sure what you mean, Dana." She tried to forget what his voice saying her name sounded like. "I mean, how much longer is your tour at NIS? I assume that eventually you'll be transferred to another duty station, and well...I'm an old- fashioned girl. I need to know that you'll be around." His eyes narrowed, his mind calculating. What the fuck was she trying to pull? She wasn't fooling him with her act. He knew women like Dana Scully, had been with his share of them all over the world, in more ports than he could count. They were all the same. They all wanted the same thing. "Listen to me, Dana," he said, his voice harsh, tight. "I told you how I feel, and I think you know what I want. And I'm used to getting what I want, when I want it, and who I want it with. Am I making myself clear?" Scully dropped all pretense of being the dutiful would-be girlfriend in a heartbeat. She instantly recognized how truly dangerous this man was, how insidious he could be. Her trained mind began to compute the statistics and probabilities. Her SIG was at the small of her back in a modified horizontal-draw holster. She had timed herself on the range at Quantico in a variety of different clothing combinations. She could draw and have the weapon in his nose in less than a second, she knew, even with the fork in her hand. She had practiced again and again until the movement was smooth, automatic, part of her. Mulder had insisted upon it, and for once, she had agreed with him. If this maggot of a man made any kind of move towards her, she'd give him something to think about. Stone could see the anger flashing in her eyes. Good, he thought. That will make her emotional, unpredictable. He liked it when they fought. Made it interesting. Exciting. Arousing. He could feel himself hardening under the table. He opened his mouth, sucking in a breath between his teeth. Scully saw his pupils dilating, saw his breathing change, and the doctor inside of her announced with prim precision that the maggot sitting across the table from her was actually getting sexually aroused at the idea of...what? Raping her? Bet me! Scully thought. "You listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch. You stay the hell away from me. As of this moment, you are off this investigation! Do you understand me? Take your little pretty-boy uniform, all your shiny medals and badges, and get the hell out of here! If I see you on FBI property, you'll be arrested and prosecuted for obstructing justice. Now...get out of here." Scully felt the snarl on her face and her anger towards Stone deepened. His smile was infuriating. "You won't do that," he said. He reached for her hand. "You want me. I want you. You know it, I know it. Stop fighting it, Dana!" Scully saw his hand coming towards her and she reacted without thinking. She caught his middle finger with her hand and bent it back savagely. She smiled an evil, satisfied smile when she heard the tendons creaking in protest. To his credit, Stone did nothing, didn't yell, didn't scream. His face paled as he looked down at his hand. "You BITCH!" he hissed. "Believe it, Stone," Scully whispered, her voice dead, flat. "I'm telling you one last time. Get out of here. Go back to Little Creek. I don't care what you tell your Admiral, but you and this investigation are through. We'll communicate the final report to you through channels. You come near me or my partner again, and I'll arrest you myself." She lowered her voice even more, leaning across the table, using the leverage to bend his finger back even more. Scully knew with the slightest of effort, the tiniest little bit of force, she could break the bastard's finger. "And if you think that a big, bad SEAL like you can't be taken by a little redheaded FBI agent, you just try me, Stone? You give it your best shot." She released his finger and reached for her fork, intending to finish her meal. The anger was flowing through her system, the blood pounding in ears, her breath coming in quick, shallow gulps. Stone pulled his arm back, slowly turning his hand from side to side, inspecting his finger. It had to hurt like hell, Scully thought. Good. And then she saw it coming. Time slowed to a crawl. Her gun hand was wrapped around the fork. Instead of losing precious moments by putting it on the plate, she just opened her hand, letting it fall to the floor. She saw the grimace on his face, saw the snarl behind his lips, saw the darkening in his eyes, felt the white hot heat of his anger. She could read his mind, sense his thoughts. The fork had fallen half an inch at that moment; by the time it had fallen another inch Scully's arm was moving, sweeping her jacket back, her other arm coming up and across her body. But Stone was fast, almost as fast as she was. She'd had the advantage of knowing what he was going to do before he did. His right arm came across the table, a runaway freight train heading straight for her. She felt his arm go under her own, his fingers reaching for her throat. His hand found the soft skin there, and she felt the fingers gripping, squeezing, cutting off her breath. He was growling now, the anger and hate and rage flashing behind his eyes. God, I thought I liked this man? The thought raced across Scully's mind in the time it took the fork to fall another half inch. Her right hand found the butt of her gun, her thumb finding and releasing the hammer-break. She felt the sudden give of the weapon from the holster and came around, her shoulder and elbow swiveling at the same time. The fork was six inches from the floor, turning lazy end-over-end circles. No one in the restaurant was aware of what was happening. Yet. The motions were complete. Scully felt herself being jerked out of her chair by the throat at the same time her gun cleared her jacket. She brought it up and around, her thumb working the safety in the space between two nanoseconds. Just as Stone brought her closer, so close she could feel his hot, sour breath on her face, the SIG was in play. She caught him in the orbital arch, the barrel placed directly against his eye socket. "Let me go, you fuck!" she wheezed. She felt his fingers tightening, and she knew she was going to have to kill him. She tried one last option, thumbing back the hammer of her SIG. Stone knew that she only needed to apply 1.2 pounds of pressure to the trigger for it to break. "Now," she added. She felt his hands slowly relax, and then she was free. She sat back, her free hand moving to her throat. She was going to have a bruise. And Mulder was going to want to kill Stone. Truth be told, she wanted to kill him herself. She slowly pulled the gun away from his face, the barrel never wavering. "Get out," she said softly. "Get out of my sight, Stone." "You're pretty good with that thing," he said. "How'd you know I was going to...?" "Same reason I know shit stinks, Stone. That's all it's capable of." Stone stood, brushing imaginary lint flecks off his uniform. "Are you comparing me to a piece of shit, Agent Scully?" he asked. Scully grinned up at him. "No. Not at all," she said. Her smile was anything but warm, and she waited a beat before finishing her thought. "Shit has a purpose." She watched his eyes darken in anger again, and she regretted her words instantly. She'd already proven that she wasn't like the other women in his life. No need to add insult to injury. "Bitch," he hissed again. Scully said nothing. "You'll be sorry," he said softly, urgently. Scully had the feeling that Stone needed her to be afraid, that he craved the feeling in his women. He needed the control, the complete and utter domination of his conquests in order to feel...what? More like a man? The thought that this...thing thought he was a man turned Scully's stomach. Instantly, her thoughts flew to Mulder. The dead skin that flaked off the bottom of Mulder's feet was more manly than this turd in a uniform. Stone turned without a further word and left quickly, glancing over his shoulder at Scully. Scully watched him go, watched as he got into his car and departed the restaurant, tires squealing. Reholstering her gun, Scully held both hands out, fingers spread. They were rock steady. Good. Grabbing her cell, she dialed the Hoover building security office first. "This is Special Agent Dana Scully. Until further notice, building access for Commander Matthew Stone is hereby revoked. If he attempts to gain access to the building, hold him for questioning and page me immediately." The security office promised they'd keep an eye out for Stone. She called Mulder next. *** Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC 1207 Hours Mulder hung up the phone and smiled. His Texas contact had also agreed to come to Washington to talk about the Stone matter. There were four names left, the four officers on Stone's Article 32 board. The first one was attached to CINCPACFLT in Pearl Harbor. The second one was currently the Naval Attache to Japan. The third officer was on sea duty aboard the USS Chicago, a fast- attack submarine. The Navy was not forthcoming about the locations of its submarines while at sea, so Mulder crossed him off the list. The fourth was also on sea duty, assigned to the USS Georgia, another fast attack boat. Only the Georgia was in dry dock at Electric Boat in Groton. Six hours by car, or a 39-minute shuttle flight and then an hour drive. No contest. Mulder had picked up the phone to dial the travel office when his second line rang. "Mulder." "Hi, it's me," Scully said. There was something wrong with her voice, and Mulder was instantly on guard. "Scully, what's wrong?" "Nothing, Mulder, I'm fine." Sure, Mulder thought. Sure you are. "Talk to me, Scully." "Stone and I had a falling out at lunch. He didn't take it well. He made the mistake of trying to put his hands on me in...well, what can only be described as in a rather...aggressive manner." Mulder had an interesting habit. When he was on the phone, unless he was writing something down, he picked an object in the immediate vicinity and focused on it, losing himself in the details. It helped him on cases, because he could tell you that a standard Stanley-Bostich stapler held exactly 125 staples in it. He'd counted. He'd been staring at his Rolodex during this call. The view of the Rolodex was replaced with a blinding red haze the moment Scully's words sank in. "He WHAT?!" Mulder said, standing up. "Relax, Mulder. I handled it." Mulder was suddenly very happy that he'd insisted that Scully drill with her weapon until drawing it under any circumstance became automatic, instinct, second nature. "Jammed your piece in his face, didn't you?" There was just enough of a pause to answer Mulder's question. "Good for you," he said. "Felt good, didn't it?" There was another pause as Scully tried to decipher Mulder's question. Surely he couldn't mean that it felt good to come within a quarter-inch of blowing the bastard's head off, could he? No, he was probably asking if it felt good to know that if push came to shove, she'd be doing the pushing and the shoving. "Yeah. Listen, have you got anything? Because if not, I was thinking of heading home to go over the Heather Haynes file." Home. Mulder's heart leapt into his throat. If he knew Stone, and he thought he did, the sick bastard was probably waiting for Scully at her place. "Nope. Sorry, Scully, we have a change of plans. You have a bag packed in the trunk?" She groaned into his ear. "Where are we going?" "Groton, Connecticut.. You're about to become the first woman to board a nuclear submarine." "When?" "Come by the office. I'm still making plans." "Be there in a few," Scully said, disconnecting. Mulder quickly called the travel office and made reservations for them. He scheduled them on the 4:30 shuttle flight out of Dulles for LaGuardia, a rental car, and two motel rooms in Whitestone, Queens. They'd fly out this afternoon, stay overnight, drive up to Groton tomorrow morning and fly back tomorrow night. Mulder flipped his notebook back a few pages, looking for another telephone number. He dialed it, wondering if Stone had taken any steps yet to burn this particular bridge. "Karn," the voice said. The Admiral had given Mulder his private back-channel line. "Special Agent Mulder, Admiral." "Mulder! How's it going?" So far so good, Mulder thought. "Very well. Listen, need a favor. Two favors, actually. First, I need to get aboard the USS Georgia in dry-dock up in Groton. Second favor is...don't ask why." There was a pause. Mulder knew that he was giving something away; Karn would immediately recognize that if Mulder was coming to him with this request instead of Stone that something had happened. "How deeply is Stone involved in this mess, Mulder?" "Pretty damn deep, sir," Mulder answered. He'd decided to trust Skinner's judgment on this one. He and Karn went back over twenty years. "Very well. What's his status?" "Uh...sir, I'm going to be brutally honest with you. Commander Stone and Agent Scully had a falling out of sorts. She's removed him from the case. He's persona non grata around here." Another pause. "What about the killer? What if the killer comes for Stone?" Mulder. "Sir, without giving too much away, I think the killer is sending Stone a message. I'm not sure he wants to kill Stone quite yet. After my trip to Groton tomorrow, I'll have a better idea of how to proceed." "This is most unusual, son, but considering the circumstances, I'll approve it. I assume you and Agent Scully are both going?" "Yes, sir." "Very well. A woman on an attack boat. Will wonders never cease? Anyway, do me a favor, Mulder. The captain of that boat is an old friend of mine, Daryl Douglas. Do me a favor and say hi to him. Mention my name. That should get as much cooperation as you need. Also, ask Daryl for some of his coffee. He makes the best coffee in the fleet." Mulder couldn't resist. "Which fleet is that?" "Why SUBFORLANTFLT, of course." Mulder tried to hide the smile in his voice. How these men could push all those letters together and make them into a sound was beyond him. Karn's words had come out as "sub for lant fleet." "Thank you, sir." "No problem, Mulder. You just call me if you need anything else, you hear?" "Thanks again, sir." *** Teletype Room USS Georgia (SSN-55) 1220 Hours EST 1820 Hours UT CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET - UMBRA NOFORDIS EYES ONLY - NO COPIES - DO NOT LOG TO : COMMANDING OFFICER, USS GEORGIA (SSN 55) FROM: CINCSUBFORLANTFLT CC : COMMANDING OFFICER, SUBFOR ALPHA DATE: 16MAY97 1. BY ORDER, CINCSUBFORLANTFLT, YOU WILL PREPARE TO RECEIVE TWO (2) REPRESENTATIVES OF THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION, SPECIAL AGENT FOX WILLIAM MULDER AND SPECIAL AGENT DANA KATHERINE SCULLY ON 17MAY97 AT GROTON SHIPYARD ABOARD USS GEORGIA. 2. REFERENCE IS MADE TO (1) ABOVE. YOU WILL GRANT AGENTS MULDER AND SCULLY ACCESS TO ANY NONE-CLASSIFIED AREA OF USS GEORGIA. IF AGENTS MULDER AND SCULLY REQUIRE ACCESS TO CLASSIFIED AREAS IN THE COURSE OF THEIR INVESTIGATION, THEY ARE ASSUMED TO HAVE THE NEED TO KNOW UP TO BUT NOT INCLUDING CNWDI-LEVEL STATUS. 3. AGENTS MULDER AND SCULLY WILL BE CONDUCTING INTERVIEWS WITH MEMBERS OF YOUR CREW, BOTH O-LEVEL AND E-LEVEL PERSONNEL. ALL HANDS, REPEAT ALL HANDS NOT ON SICK LEAVE WILL BE PRESENT, ACCOUNTED FOR, AND AVAILABLE FOR INTERVIEWS. 4. ANY QUESTIONS REGARDING THIS MESSAGE, ITS CONTENTS, ITS INTENT OR ANY MATTER HAVING TO DO WITH THIS MESSAGE SHOULD BE DIRECTED TO THE OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR, NAVAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE, LITTLE CREEK, VIRGINIA OR THE OFFICE OF THE JUDGE ADVOCATE GENERAL, PENTAGON, WASHINGTON, DC. FOR CINCSUBFORLANTFLT, VICE ADMIRAL COCKLE, CHIEF OF STAFF *** Office of Special Agent Fox Mulder Federal Bureau of Investigation J. Edgar Hoover Building Washington, DC 1230 Hours Scully pushed the office door opened and stepped inside. Mulder was instantly up from his desk, moving towards her. She pinned him with a glance and he shrank back. "Just give me a minute, Mulder. Don't mother me, and I'll tell you the whole story, ok?" He just nodded, retreating enough to sit on top of his desk. Scully dropped her briefcase on her desk and turned to face her partner, the man she- What? Loved? Yes, in a way. Right now, she loved him like a brother, like a best friend. Maybe later there could be more, but for right now, there was only this. "Stone is a possessive, woman-hating asshole," she started softly. "He seems to think that just because he happens to be good-looking and mildly charming that every woman he takes a liking to should promptly fall on her back and spread her legs. He put his hands on me, and it was almost the last thing he ever put his hands on." She looked up and saw the pain and fear on her partner's face. "Mulder, I handled it," she said, even more quietly. "I know," Mulder whispered. "Don't ask me not to care, Scully, or not to worry, or not to want to put a bullet into Stone myself. I'll try and handle this as best I can, but don't ask me not to feel." Scully smiled at him, a warm, comfortable feeling washing over her. She watched as Mulder stood and walked over to her. His hands came up from his sides and he asked softly, "May I?" She nodded. She felt his fingers tracing her jaw, tilting her head gently to the side. Where his fingers touched her skin, Scully felt warmth, fire, electricity. It was like that every time Mulder touched her, even through her clothes, even that ubiquitous hand at the small of her back as he guided her through the halls of the Hoover building, even that touch through her business suits, Scully could feel. Mulder was much closer now, in her space, his head moving so that he could see the already-fading finger-marks from Stone's hand on her throat. He touched the soft skin there, and she winced, remembering his fingers closing, tightening. "Sorry," he muttered. He dropped his hands, as if afraid to touch her, afraid to hurt her. His eyes began to brim over with tears, and Scully's heart slowly tore. "No," she said, reaching for his hands. "I want you to touch me, Mulder. Please touch me." Under any other circumstance, Mulder would have taken the opportunity to make one of his trademark unctuous remarks. He said nothing this time. He just gently, slowly took her in his arms. She buried her face against his chest, inhaling his scent. Scully had never felt so comfortable, so protected, so safe. Her arms went around his waist, underneath his jacket, pulling him to her, tighter, closer. "I almost shot him, Mulder," she whispered against his chest. "Remind me never to piss you off," he said, his tone light, trying to get a smile, a laugh...anything. "Damn straight," She said, pulling away. Mulder looked down at her. "I can't be with you every moment of every day," he said, "and I know you don't need me to protect you. But if I'm with you, and something like that happens again, I'll kill them. No one had better-" She smiled. "Mulder...right now, if you ask me right now, I never want anyone to touch me again, ever. Except you." "Scully!" Realizing what she had just insinuated, Scully blushed. "You know what I mean!" "Yes, I do. And you'd better remember that, because we leave for the airport in about twenty minutes. Then we're going on board a submarine full of nothing but manly men in the full bloom of their manhood. A dish like you needs to be able to protect herself." Scully's head snapped back. "A dish? You think I'm a dish?" Mulder smiled. "A delectable taste treat, a veritable cornucopia for the senses!" He grinned wider and leaned down, his mouth moving towards hers. Scully saw his mouth coming and moved towards him, wanting the kiss, needing the kiss, but he stopped an inch from her lips. "Probably not a good idea at the office," he whispered. "Tonight," she added. "The motel." Holy shit, Fox thought. =================================================================== END CHAPTER 10 Werdz -n- stuff CINCPACFLT - Commander In Chief, Pacific Fleet. The four-star admiral that commands all Navy personnel and equipment in the Pacific Ocean theater of operations. See also: CINCPAC CINCPAC - Commander In Chief, Pacific - Supreme US Military commander of all forces in the Pacific, CINCPAC outranks CINCPACFLT and is one of "the magic seven" CINCS (Commanders in Chief) CINCSUBFORLANTFLT - Commander in Chief, Submarine Forces, Atlantic Fleet CNWDI - Critical Nuclear Weapons Design Information. The blueprints on how to make a nuke. Electric Boat - General Electric's submarine shipbuilding division. Groton - Location of GE's Electric Boat division, a shipyard in Groton, Connecticut. Mustang - US Military slang for an officer that was formerly an Enlisted Man, a man promoted from the ranks either via a battlefield commission, a wartime reserve commission, or by attendance in an OCS program or via ROTC. OCS - Officer Candidate School. SUBFORLANTFLT - Submarine Forces, Atlantic Fleet