"Umbra" 12/?
			       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 25, 1997
Archive Entry  :  Book I, Chapter 12
Classification :  Action Adventure, MSR
Rating	       :  R (Adult Themes, Violence, Adult Language, nudity)
Notes	       :  Adult sexual contact ahead. Be warned.
Antishipper    :  7 on a scale of 1-10.
Shipper	       :  8 on a scale of 1-10.
Casting	       :  William H. Macy  "Captain Newman"
	       :  John C. McGinley "Commander Jenkins"
	       :  Michael Behien "Officer of the Deck"
Timeline       :  4th year, prior to anything having to do with cancer.

Enjoy!
See the end for definitions of words that I use herein.
=======================================================================
Motel 6
Room 1013
Groton, Connecticut


	Mulder settled down next to Scully on the bed, closing his eyes
as his head came into contact with the pillow. Her hand was still on his
wrist, and she shifted on the bed, turning her back to him, bring his
arm across her hip to her stomach. He could feel the soft pressure of
her buttocks pressing against him through her top and his sweats. To say
it was distracting would be the same as saying that the sun was `warm.'
	To her credit, Scully seemed to know what she was doing to him,
and what she was capable of doing to him. She didn't move a muscle,
content just to have him close to her, next to her, his steady, even
breathing comforting her.
	Mulder was trying to piece his thoughts together. "Scully," he
said softly, "What's happening?"
	She thought of answering his question with a typical enigmatic
question of her own, something along the lines of `What do you want to
have happen, Mulder?' but decided that although it was a safe answer, an
answer that would put the ball squarely back into his court, it was not
a particularly fair question, considering the circumstances. She had,
after all, just about thrown herself at him. And that, she knew, was the
question he was actually asking. Why?
	"I'm...not sure," she admitted. "I can't tell you where this is
heading right now, here, tonight. I know that I want you beside me. I
liked waking up in your arms this morning."
	Mulder smiled in the near darkness. That had been a wonderful way
to start the day.
	"We've both thought about it," Scully said, and Mulder knew what
she meant. "We wouldn't be human if we hadn't."
	He chose to say nothing, letting her continue, letting Scully talk
it out. In all the years that he had known her, she always thought best
when she verbalized what was on her mind. He'd been her sounding board
(and she his,) for so long that it seemed unnatural to have a discussion
on any topic with anyone else until he'd shared his thoughts with her
first.
	"And, we've both come up with all the reasons we should, and all
the reasons we shouldn't."
	Mulder shifted on the bed, trying to get a little more
comfortable. His movements were not intended to excite or torment, but
they had that effect. Scully closed her eyes as she felt the obvious
evidence of his masculinity pressing against her tush.
	It took a monumental effort on her part not to push back against
him.
	He felt and heard her sigh deeply, and knew that the rarest of the
rare moments between them was about to occur. Dana Scully was going to
share what was really on her mind.
	"Wait," he said, moving to get up off the bed.
	"No, don't leave," she pleaded.
	"I'm just going to turn the TV off," he said. "Total darkness has
a way of bringing secrets out." His smile was warm and comforting, and
Scully loved him for it, for his concern, for his complete knowledge of
her feelings and her difficulty in talking about them. She reached over
to the nightstand on her side of the bed and found the remote.
	"Modern technology," she murmured. She thumbed the TV off and the
room went black, inky black. She felt Mulder settle in next to her
again, this time with a slightly larger amount of space between their
bodies. Good thing he can't see my face, Scully thought with a devilish
smile. She made as if she were fluffing her pillows, and when she
settled back down on the bed, she felt him against her backside again.
He moved, as if to shift away again, and quietly she said, "Don't."
	He froze.
	"Scully," he whispered, his voice ragged, his breath shallow,
barely controlled.
	"Can you just hold me, Mulder?" He tried not to sigh, tried not to
let her know how much this was affecting him. Being this close to her
was driving him insane. Slowly, deliciously insane. "Can we just be best
friends tonight, Mulder? A man and a woman? Not partners?"
	"We can try," he croaked. Scully smiled and snuggled a little
closer, trying very hard not to cross the line. How many times? she
thought. How many times have this man and I come up to that line, toed
the line, looked at the line, reached out and all but tweaked the line?
She remembered the times he'd been there for her, and the times she'd
been there for him. A hug here, a slight grazing of their hands there, a
look, a glance shot across their basement office, an arched eyebrow
raised against an insane theory, a soft, small smile offered as a gift
when he said or did something that was just so completely Mulder that
she broke her long-standing rule not to let him know just how inside her
soul he truly was.
	"I'm just so lonely, Mulder." The words shocked them both. Scully
felt her eyes widening in horror. She had no idea what had compelled her
to voice a thought, an emotion that was just beginning to bubble to the
surface of her own consciousness. She felt the hot, angry sting of the
tears building, the heavy, liquid sensation behind her eyes annoying and
relieving at the same time. Annoying because it was a loss of her
precious control, the tool she used to distance herself from the horrors
she was forced to witness every day of her life. Control was the only
thing that kept her alive, kept her sane, kept her functioning at a
personal and professional level.
	Control, she realized, that kept the most important people in her
life at a safe, comfortable distance. Control that made thousands of
nights long, lonely ordeals that she filled with writing reports and
reading medical journals.
	Mulder's fingers insinuated themselves between the buttons of her
top, his fingers finding and lightly stroking the smooth, soft skin of
her belly. He found her navel and circled it slowly. Scully closed her
eyes and tried to suppress an audible moan. She waited to see what
happened next, waited to see if Mulder's hands were going to rise to her
breasts or lower to her hips, to see if he was going to go exploring, to
see if he wanted to discover all the secrets she wanted to share with
him.
	But he did not. His touch was gentle, soft, comforting, but not
arousing. He wasn't trying to arouse her, she realized. He was just...
being Mulder.
	The fact that his touch burned Scully's skin didn't surprise her.
	"Is that why you..." He stopped, trying to find the words, and
discovered that there were none.
	"Matt?"
	He sighed in the darkness. "Yes."
	Scully shrugged. "I'm...not sure. He made it clear that he...
wanted me. As a woman. I can't remember the last time that happened."
She paused. "It felt good." Very good, she silently amended.
	His hands paused their movement for the briefest of instants, and
then started again. Scully felt his hesitation, his pause, and closed
her eyes. She'd hurt him by her actions with Matt, she knew. How deeply,
she had yet to discover.
	"I'm just sick of...being alone, I guess. Of not having anyone to
share with." She felt his hand pause again, and Scully decided to take
the offensive. She twisted in his embrace, turning to face him. His hand
got caught on a button lifted the top almost completely off her hips.
His eyes were wide, she could see them, his gaze locked on hers. Without
saying a word, Scully reached down and undid the last button, allowing
his hand to slide across her hip, into the dark warmth at the small of
her back. Scully used her hand on his arm to guide his touch to where she
wanted it, needed it. His fingers were inches from the gentle swell of her
buttocks, and Scully liked the feeling.
	And she realized with a sudden certainty that it was OK to like
the feeling of Mulder's hand there. He was Mulder. He would never
consciously hurt her. At times, Mulder was perhaps the most annoying,
confounding man that she had ever known. He could be selfish,
controlling, manipulating and egotistical in the extreme. His beliefs
were his armor against the world, just as icy self-control was hers. It
set him apart from and above those that he did not respect. But he could
also be the most wonderful man she had ever known. When he smiled at her
that one way, that one certain way, it sent shivers down her spine,
caused heat to blossom in the pit of her stomach (and sometimes even
lower, she thought.) When he touched her those oh-so infrequent times,
she felt whole, complete.
	"Scully," he whispered, and to her ears, it was the most wonderful
sound in the world.
	"I'm so scared, Mulder," she whispered.
	"Of me?"
	"No, of us. We could spend all night rationalizing about how there
is no `us,' how we're just friends and partners, how anything more would
be insane and dangerous, how our being together would be nothing but
ammunition for those that stand against us, but there is no denying that
you and I are...how this is meant to..."
	She stopped again, unable to say the words on her lips. Her hand
found his face, her nails lightly scratching the skin, her fingers
tracing the strong line of his jaw. His eyes closed at her soft, gentle
touch and he turned his face into it, his lips brushing against her
palm. Scully felt a tightness in her chest, felt it suddenly difficult
to breathe.
	"I...I've given you my trust, Mulder. There is no one else I trust
as much as you," she whispered.
	He opened his mouth to speak, to tell her that he trusted her,
too, but Scully's hand moved from his cheek to his mouth. She pressed
two fingers against his lips, silencing his words before they had a
chance to escape, before he broke the spell.
	"I've given you my trust, Mulder...I want to give you my heart."
	There.
	She'd said it. A long, comfortable silence enveloped them.
Mulder's hand started moving again, his fingers tracing her spine, his
touch dancing on her skin. Then his hand was moving lower, past her
back...she felt his fingers as they lightly, softly grazed the skin of
her buttocks, his hand finally coming to rest on her left cheek, his
fingers testing the soft, buoyant skin.
	Scully gasped, closing her eyes. It had been so long since anyone
had touched her there. She took shallow breaths, letting them out
heavily, gasping in the darkened motel room. Mulder's hand ascended
again, found the small of her back, and came to rest.
	"It's just...so much," he finally said. "Almost too much, Scully."
She lowered her gaze, tucking her chin into her chest, trying not to cry
in front of this man.
	"Look at me," he whispered.
	She raised her eyes.
	"I said almost, Scully. Almost too much." He paused. "I'm just
worried, that's all."
	He felt her stiffen, as if she was going to pull away. He smiled
in the darkness, a wry, rueful smile. He locked his elbow, preventing
her from moving at all. "Listen to me," he said softly, quietly. "Let me
finish."
	She relaxed, and he brought her slightly closer, her hand coming
up to his chest, her fingers softly stroking him.
	"I'm worried that...how can I say this? I'm worried that you may
be...a little...shaken because of what happened today. You're right,
Scully. I have thought about it...about us. You were right; I wouldn't
be human if I hadn't noticed this incredible person in my life, this
person that keeps me sane without even trying. This person that... fills
my life with warmth and...love." There. He'd said it.
	"I want to...explore this, Scully. You're too important to me to
just...rush into this. Today was a stressful, traumatic day, no matter
how much you'd like to deny it. Drawing a gun on a man you have feelings
for is not easy."
	"I know," she giggled, and Mulder remembered. Her hand moved to
the puckered scar on his left shoulder. She traced it with her fingers,
closing her eyes and remembering the moment, the only moment in her life
she ever considering shooting someone out of love.
	He sighed, pulling her closer. He felt one warm leg slide over
his, the skin smooth and hot against his. If they got any closer, it
wouldn't matter what he wanted, or what she wanted. Instinct, attraction
and desire would take over. And then something might happen that they
could both possibly regret for the rest of their lives.
	"When you told me that Stone had put his hands on your throat, I
wanted to kill the bastard. And not because you're my partner. I
mean...yes, you are my partner, and anyone that threatens my partner
threatens me. But you're also...so much more to me than just a partner,
Scully. We've always known that. We haven't said anything because...
well, because we are who we are. Both of us, stubborn, headstrong, sure
and complete in the knowledge that we don't need anyone, that we're both
on a solitary crusade, you to find the truth through science and
research, me, on the same hunt, the same crusade, but from a different
angle. Both of us...alone and together at the same time." She felt his
lips press against her forehead and she closed her eyes, savoring the
warm, gentle contact.
	"And here we sit, both of us struggling to contain the... desire,
that hungry ache we both feel for each other. It would be so easy to
give in, Scully. So easy to just roll over, take that top off of you and
do what we both want so badly, so desperately. The thought of...the
thought of taking you in my arms, of making love with you, of losing
myself inside you is so tempting, so...appealing that it's almost
impossible to describe."
	Scully smiled, tucking her head under his chin, her own chin
against his chest, turning her head slightly so she could hear the
beating of his heart.
	"But we gotta wait, Scully. We're in the middle of a case right
now. A case that involves things we're only just beginning to decipher
and understand. Our emotions are running high and tight, the mixture is
too pure, too rich. We risk flaming out and crashing and burning. And I
don't want to crash and burn, Scully."
	He withdrew his hand from under her shirt and used it to lift her
chin, to bring her eyes to his. "I don't want to start something that we
can't finish." He paused. "There's so much danger, Scully. I'm afraid of
losing you, of pushing you away when I get...the way I get. I'm not
exactly what any mentally stable woman would consider a `catch,'
Scully."
	Oh, you're just about as wrong as a person could be, she thought.
	"Can I ask you a favor?" she said softly.
	"Anything, Scully."
	"Will you hold me tonight? Just like this? Will you spend the
night next to me, let me sleep in your arms? I just need to be held,
Mulder. I can wait for the rest. We both can. But I want...I need this
contact with you, Mulder. When I'm in your arms, I feel so safe and
loved. Will you do that?"
	He laughed softly. "Sure, Scully. I'll even go one better. I'll
hold you any night you want. For now, that's about as far as we should
go. Deal?"
	She nodded, lowering her face to his chest again. "Deal, Mulder."

				       ***

Motel 6
Groton, Connecticut
0615 Hours

	Mulder came awake slowly, aware that he had greeted the dawning of
a new day in the arms of his partner again. They had spent the night
much like it had started, in each other's arms. As Scully would shift
and turn and twist in the night, his body would move to find hers again,
his arms snaking across her hip, finding her stomach or her thighs,
pulling her against him, finding solace and warmth in her softness, her
heat. His eyes opened, sticky and heavy with sleep. They were on their
sides, snuggled together, two spoons in a warm, comfortable drawer. Her
eyes were closed, and he took the moment to study her features, losing
himself in her quiet, gentle beauty.
	He reached over and swept a lock of her hair away from her face,
gently tucking it behind her ear, the better to see the sweet line of
her jaw, the gentle arch of her cheek, the intriguing curve of her nose.
	Scully's eyes slid open, curtains parting to show him her soul.
Her head twisted on the pillow.
	"Morning," she said, her voice thick with sleep.
	"Morning," he replied.
	They smiled at each other for a brief second. "We have to get
moving," he said apologetically. She nodded, but didn't move.
	He moved first, withdrawing his arm and swinging his feet over the
edge of the bed, standing and moving towards his room.
	"Breakfast in an hour?" he asked.
	"Sure," she said, already missing him. He closed the connecting
door and leaned against it, letting out a huge, deep sigh. Scully, he
thought, and that was his only thought.
	Scully.

				       ***

	Scully snuggled back under the covers for five more minutes. One
of the things she was most proud of was the fact that she'd somehow
managed to convince Mulder that she needed an hour every morning to get
ready. In reality, it took her less than twenty-five minutes to rise, take a
shower, dress and apply the little makeup she wore. Truth be told, she
enjoyed that extra half hour of dozing in the warm, comfy bed.
Especially this morning, as the sheets and pillow to her left still
smelled like him, still held his warmth. She moved to them, drawing them
around her, wallowing in his scent.
	She drew the sheets to her chin, turning on her side to look out
the window. The sun was coming up, just peeking over the ocean, and
Scully tried to remember every single detail of the night before.
	She stayed that way for perhaps two minutes, remembering.
	Time to go, her mind said.
	Sighing, she scooted to the other side of the bed and stood,
stretching and yawning.
	A shower would feel wonderful.
	Her hands moved to her top, the fingers nimbly releasing the
buttons.

				       ***

	Shit, Mulder thought. The damn housekeepers forgot shampoo! There
was nothing in the bathroom except two miniature bars of soap, neatly
wrapped and left on the small shelf above the vanity. Running a hand
through his hair, Mulder considered just skipping it this morning, and
then decided against it.
	He grabbed his bathrobe and tugged it closed against his
nakedness, tying it closed. He moved to the connecting door, a small
smile on his face. Scully liked to sleep in, he knew, and glancing at
his watch he saw that he still had another ten or fifteen minutes by his
estimation before she got up. He knew that Scully thought she'd fooled
him. It was a secret that he loved keeping, because she took so much
pleasure in continuing the little white lie.
	He pushed the connecting door open and stepped through.

				       ***

	Just in time to see Scully drop the top and take a single step
towards the bathroom. She froze, her eyes wide, her mouth forming a
surprised little "O".
	Mulder froze.
	Time froze.
	He couldn't help himself. He felt his eyes leaving her face,
dragging themselves down her body, taking in the lines and the planes
and the curves of her form, drinking in the sight of her completely
naked body. Her tiny, perfectly formed feet, sleek, muscular calves,
smooth, warm thighs, the juncture protected by the curly auburn hairs,
the gentle swell of her stomach, two proud, high perfect breasts, her
slim, swan's neck, and then her mouth, still formed in that "O."
	Time started again, and Scully quickly moved again, her hand
reaching back to the bed, finding her top and drawing it against her,
two hands clutching the material and bringing it against her body,
holding it just above her breasts like a matador's cape.
	"Mulder," she whispered, her eyes wide and liquid.
	"Shampoo," he whispered. "Needed...shampoo." And then she saw it.
A medical doctor herself, Scully was no stranger to the physiology of
men. She knew that as they slept, their bladders filled with the output
of the kidneys, putting more and more pressure on the prostrate until
the inevitable happened. Most men awoke with a certain condition, a
pressing fullness below the waist that could only be relieved with a
shiver-inducing visit to the bathroom.
	But she'd heard the water sounds coming through the walls. She
knew that he'd already done his morning business. So that slowly growing
mass under his bathrobe was not the result of having drank too much
water the night before.
	No, she was the cause of that swelling, and it sent a shiver of
delight and anticipatory pleasure tingling through her body.
	She moved towards the bathroom, finding an extra bottle of shampoo
that housekeeping had left. Grabbing it, she turned back to Mulder,
facing him from the bathroom door, and tossed it underhand.
	It hit him square in the chest and dropped to the floor with a
soft thud. His eyes were still on her, and Scully realized that when
she'd turned to go into the bathroom, she'd shown Mulder her naked
backside. She saw that the lump under his bathrobe was even more
pronounced.
	Scully had a sudden wicked thought, and without further
contemplation, she acted on it.
	She dropped the top again, feeling it pool around her feet.
	Mulder's eyes widened even more, if that were possible.
	The lump shifted and throbbed.
	Scully felt her eyelids lowering, suddenly heavy and hot.
	"I love the way you look at me," she whispered, and then closed
the bathroom door.

				       ***

	Mulder stood there for a good twenty seconds, and then stooped to
grab the shampoo. Sluggishly, dumbly, he moved back to his room and into
the bathroom. Cranking the shower handles, he waited until the water was
sufficiently warm to enter, and then stood under the spray, staring at
nothing, his mind whirling with images of Scully's perfect nakedness.
	The level of intimacy, of closeness needed for Scully to do that
was amazing, Mulder thought. Her trust in me...in us was just about the
most incredible thing he had ever experienced. He knew she'd seen his
reaction, his body's automatic response to her incredible, breathtaking
beauty.
	Still blown away, Mulder started washing himself, only realizing
after a few moments that he'd forgotten to take the wrapper off the
soap.
	The way I look at her? he thought.

				       ***

	Scully turned the water off and exited the shower. Grabbing a
towel and quickly dried herself and then dressed. Glancing at her watch,
she realized that Mulder had been in the shower for almost twenty
minutes.
	I wonder if...she thought. If he's...relieving himself?
	He's been in there too long, she told herself. I'd better check on
him to see if he's all right.

				       ***

	Mulder glanced down at his hands and saw the skin beginning to
prune up, and realized he'd been standing under the hot water for close
to half an hour. He was running late. He cranked the handles off and
swept the shower curtain back with his arm, reaching for a towel.
	That was when he saw Scully.
	Standing in the doorway to his bathroom, arms crossed, one eyebrow
arched.
	He froze.
	Scully smiled, the knowledge in her heart that she had come over
for a single reason: To stand in frank appraisal of his body, her mouth open,
the blood pounding in her ears (and other body parts,) and just...enjoy.
	"Fair's fair, Mulder," she said, and then turned, leaving him
alone.

				       ***

	Mulder was standing in front of the mirror, fighting with his tie
when Scully re-entered the room. She'd finished applying her makeup and
stood, arms crossed again, watching her partner fumbling and swearing
softly to himself. He could feel her gaze on him, her eyes crawling up
and down his body.
	"Here," she finally said, reaching out a hand to his arm, turning
him towards her. "Let me."
	He considered protesting, but instead let his arms drop to his
sides, taking the opportunity to look down at Scully as her nimble
fingers made quick work of his tie. Tightening the knot, she slid it
against his collar button, and then used her fingers to smooth it flat,
tucking the tail neatly behind the label.
	"There," she said softly, her task finished. She looked up and saw
his eyes, his gaze, the depth of emotion swimming in them.
	"I like the way you look at me," he whispered.
	"Oh!" Scully said, more a gasp than a word. His face was lowering,
his mouth aiming towards hers. She lifted herself, reaching for his
mouth with her own, sighing into him as they made that first, electric
contact.
	The kiss was soft, brief, and when they pulled apart, she could
see the stain of her lipstick on him. She reached up with a thumb and
wiped it off, smiling at him.
	"When we go out there," she said, tilting her head towards the
door, "We can't..."
	"I know, Scully. But that doesn't mean I won't be thinking about
it in my free time."
	Scully grinned. "Me, too."
	"Let's go," he said softly.

				       ***

United States Submarine Base
Groton, Connecticut
0900 Hours

	Mulder pulled up to the gate and offered the guard his FBI
credentials. "Special Agents-"
	"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully," the guard said, stooping down to
peer across the car at Scully. "We've been expecting you, sir, ma'am."
He pointed with his arm as he gave directions. "Take this road two
miles, and then make a right onto Independence Road. Take that two
miles, and you'll be at the Georgia's berth.
	"She's in dry-dock?" Mulder asked.
	"Sort of. She's tied up alongside. She just got out of dry-dock
four days ago after a refit. That's as much as I know, Mr. Mulder.
You'll have to ask her captain for any more details."
	Mulder thanked the man and waited as the gate was opened
electronically. He drove through and found the guard's directions easy
to follow. Ten minutes later they pulled into a parking space on the
Georgia's berth.
	The USS Georgia was a huge boat, Mulder saw. Hundreds of feet
long. There was a gangplank leaning towards the deck, with an armed US
Marine standing stiffly at attention at the bottom. Mulder could see a
man in the tan summer officer's uniform standing on the bridge.
	They got out of the car and walked towards the gangplank. The
Marine turned towards them.
	"Can I help you?" he asked.
	"Special Agents-"
	"Mulder and Scully. Of course. Please go aboard." Mulder lifted
his foot to step onto the gangplank and felt Scully's hand at his elbow,
staying his motion.
	"Allow me," she whispered. Turning her attention towards the man
on the bridge, she called, "Permission to come aboard?"
	The man snapped to attention. "Permission granted," he called
back.
	To Mulder, she whispered, "Tradition. They just don't like you
romping on their boats without permission."
	"Oh," he said. He followed her up the gangplank, his thoughts a
thousand miles away as he watched the gentle sway of her hips.
	At the top of the gangplank, Scully stopped. The man had climbed
down from the bridge and was waiting for them slightly forward of the
sail.
	Scully held out her ID, as did Mulder.
	"Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI," she said. Hooking an elbow
towards Mulder, she added, "Agent Mulder, my partner."
	"Welcome aboard the Georgia, sir," the man said, all but ignoring
Scully. "The Captain has been expecting you. If you'll just follow me."
He turned and moved towards the forward weapons loading hatch. He
scampered down it. Scully and Mulder quickly followed suit.
	They emerged into the Control Center of the USS Georgia. A
training mission of some kind was obviously underway, because the
control room was crowded with people, both officers and enlisted men.
More than one of the crew looked up in surprise as an attractive,
smartly dressed female FBI agent violated what had been until that
moment a male-only bastion.
	"Diving officer, make your depth six zero feet!" a tall,
distinguished man called out.
	"Six zero feet, aye," another called. That man turned to the two
enlisted men that sat behind what looked like a huge replica of a car's
steering wheel. "Two degrees down bubble," he ordered, loudly. "Come to
depth six zero feet."
	"Conn, sonar," a voice called out, and Scully turned to see
another man facing a bank of computer screens. Sonar readouts, she
thought.
	"Sonar, Conn."
	"Contact, bearing two zero two, range...twelve thousand yards.
Sounds like an Oscar running on top, sir."
	"Conn, aye. Start a track on that, Sonar, call it Omega one.
Weapons, I want a shooting solution yesterday. Come to new heading two
zero zero, ahead one third."
	"Aye," another voice called out.
	The officer that had greeted them on deck turned and whispered to
Mulder, his gaze never touching Scully.
	"They're running a simulation of tracking a Russian Oscar-class
SSBN. We have computer tapes that allow the crew to train dockside
without having to leave the ship."
	Mulder nodded and then pointedly turned to Scully. "What's an
SSBN?"
	Thank you, she thought. Mulder always knew how to put idiots in
their place.
	"Ballistic missile submarine, Mulder. This is a fast-attack boat,
charged with finding and neutralizing boomers."
	The officer of the deck's eyes widened as Scully moved into
lecture mode. "This is a Los Angeles-class, or 688-class, fast attack
boat, built by General Dynamics at the Electric Boat shipyard about two
miles away. Sixty two in total have been built. They each carry Mod 4
and ADCAP Mark 48 torpedoes, as well as Tomahawk cruise missiles. She
can dive to a depth of about nine hundred and fifty feet and move at
about thirty knots." Scully glanced directly at the officer of the deck
and continued. "She is one of the quietest attack boats ever built, and
radiates less sound than the surrounding ocean."
	"That's right, Agent...Scully, is it?"
	"Yes," Scully confirmed. "My father was Captain Bill Scully, and I've
been around the Navy in one form or another for all my life. This isn't the
first submarine I've been aboard, Lieutenant."
	There was a new respect in the man's eyes as he turned back to
watch the exercise unfold. It took about ten minutes before the Weapons
officer announced, "Shooting solution, sir."
	The captain nodded. "Match bearings. Flood tubes one and two."
	"Flood tubes, aye," the weapons officer called.
	"Engineering, I'm going to need flank speed in about sixty
seconds," the captain called.
	"Tubes flooded."
	"Fire one."
	"Firing one." There was no sound, no motion to indicate that an
actual torpedo had been fired, but Mulder still felt the excitement in
the air. "Fire two," the captain called.
	"Firing two."
	"Conn, sonar. Both fish are in the water, and are tracking. Going
to active sonar...now."
	The ship was filled with the sounds of a phantom torpedo tracking
a submarine that was not there. "Range to target, eleven thousand
yards," a voice called.
	It took almost six minutes.
	"Range to target, five hundred yards. Impact in twelve seconds."
	"Four hundred."
	"Three hundred. Six seconds."
	"Two hundred."
	"One hundred. Impact!"
	"Come to new heading, zero zero zero, all head full," the captain
called.
	"Sir, we have hull-popping sounds and...breakup. The boat is
breaking up, sir. Direct hit."
	There were smiles of satisfaction at a job well done all around,
the captain stepped down from the periscope pedestal, clicking a
stopwatch he'd kept hidden in a pocket.
	"Forty two minutes to acquire, solve and fire, men. Very good
job." He turned to another man who had been repeating all of the
captain's orders. "XO, you have the conn."
	"XO has the conn," the man repeated, taking formal control of the
boat.
	"I'll be in my cabin," the captain continued, turning and walking
aft, trailing the OOD, Scully and Mulder behind him. They all entered
the cabin.
	"OOD, that will be all," the captain said. The young Lieutenant
looked crushed at not being included, but he turned on his heel and let
himself out of the captain's cabin, shutting the door behind him.
	"Now," the captain said, turning to face the two agents. "What is
all this about? I got a TWX from COMSUBLANT telling me to give you two
total access to my boat and my crew. What interest does the FBI have
with my boat?"
	"Actually sir," Scully started, "We have no interest in the
Georgia. We do want to talk to a member of your crew about a case we're
working on." She paused. "I'm sorry, but the nature of the case is
classified."
	The captain, whose nameplate read "V. Newton," nodded. "I
suspected as much. Which one of my men do you need to see?"
	"Commander Jenkins, sir."
	The captain's eyebrows rose. "Oh. I see."
	"Is there a problem?" Scully pressed.
	"No. I just assumed it was one of the men, not an officer."
	Mulder spoke up. "Captain, I hate to impose, but we will need a
place to conduct the interview. Might we...?"
	"Of course, Agent Mulder. You may use my cabin for as long as you
need. I'll have Jenkins sent down."
	The captain reached over Mulder's shoulder and grabbed a red
telephone. Lifting it to his ear, he spoke quickly. "XO, report to my
cabin immediately."
	He hung the phone up without waiting for an answer.
	"I will leave you two alone. Please come see me before
disembarking."
	"Yes, sir," Scully said.
	The captain of the Georgia left his cabin just as Jenkins arrived.
Commander Peter Jenkins looked the part of a submarine officer. He had
that vague, pale computer-wonk look that all nuclear engineers had, and
in the nuclear navy, most of the SSN CO's looked like Jenkins.
	"Sir? Ma'am?"
	They held up credentials again. We should have them tattooed on
our hands, Scully thought. "Special Agents Dana Scully and Fox Mulder,
Federal Bureau of Investigation. Come in and have a seat, Commander."
They put their ID away, shifting easily into interrogation mode. Their
roles were well known by now, each of them attuned to the other's
movements and body language. Scully crossed her arms and leaned against
the door, blocking Jenkins' exit. Mulder sat down on the captain's bunk,
facing the man, his face wide, open, inviting. It was a technique that
had been perfected by generations of police officers, the classic "Good
Cop/Bad Cop" ploy. Mulder and Scully had elevated it to a new level,
because most suspects and interviewees would expect Scully, being the
female, to be the easy, gentle one.
	"We need to talk to you about something that you were involved
with during the Gulf War," Mulder started.
	"I had shore duty," Jenkins started, confusion etching his
features. "I was assigned to COMSUBLANT as a staff officer. I wrote
papers...?"
	"Not only that," Mulder continued, his voice even, steady,
soothing. "You sat on an Article 32 board."
	The change was almost instantaneous. In a flash, Jenkins' body
language shifted. His expression darkened, and Scully watched as the muscles
in his jaw tightened. Crossing his arms across his chest, Commander Jenkins
might as well have made a locking motion at his lips and then tossed the
imaginary key over his shoulder.
	Mulder decided that it was time to play the only card they had.
"We know you've been contacted, Jenkins. Take a look at my partner."
Jenkins glanced at Scully. She was holding several sheets of paper,
folded lengthwise in one hand, and a pen in the other.
	"That's an Article 16 request for your transfer to civilian legal
authority, specifically the Justice Department. If you don't cooperate
with me right now, she will sign that, and I will present it to your
captain. We'll take you off this boat in shackles in front of all your
men. Your chances at promotion will dry up, even if you are acquitted of
the charge of obstructing justice. You will never get your own boat,
Commander."
	Jenkins visibly considered that outcome. His arms dropped from his
chest and he wiped the palms on his legs. "What do you want to know?" he
asked, the tone of defeat clearly evident in his voice.
	"Why was he acquitted?"
	"Stone? Because we were told to acquit him."
	Scully moved from the door. "Told? By whom?"
	Jenkins shook his head. "I don't know. I saw his face, but I don't
know who he was. The chair of the Article 32 board met with him in
private, and then with us in his chambers. We were told that for reasons
of national security, we were to find acquit him on lack of evidence and
to forget that we'd ever heard anything about the case." He glanced at
Mulder, his eyes haunted. "And until this morning, I'd made a pretty
good stab at forgetting."
	Mulder moved in for the kill.
	"Forgetting what, Commander? What did you hear? What evidence was
presented?"
	"The mission...the details about the mission....we got a briefing
from someone at CIA. It wasn't evidence. Two of us...me and another
submariner...we didn't want to acquit. We were told that it would
jeopardize our careers if we didn't. We asked why. What. What was going
on? They told us enough. Enough, Mr. Mulder, to make me almost resign
from the Navy."
	That brought Mulder up short.
	"Were you contacted? Before we arrived, were you contacted?"
	Jenkins nodded. "Yes. I was told to...lie. To tell you a story
about what happened."
	"What happened?"
	"The mission," Jenkins repeated. "Why it went...south."
	"Why did it go south?"
	"They were ordered out. The mission was scrubbed. The CO didn't
want to take the orders, because Stone had broken radio silence. It was
outside the parameters of the mission profile. They weren't supposed to
take any orders within 12 hours of the launch time. But Stone broke
radio silence, got in contact with the NMCC and got orders to scrub, bug
out and exfiltrate. Graves didn't want to do it. Stone killed him.
Battlefield execution." Mulder nodded. I knew that. Except for the `why' part.
Why did Stone break radio silence?
	"What was the mission?" Scully asked softly.
	"Saddam. Kill Saddam."
	"With a woman on the team?" Scully prodded. Jenkins' eyes widened
even further. "You know about that?"
	"Yes. We know most of it. Do you have anything to add? Why the
mission was scrubbed?"
	Jenkins took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I
can think of only one reason, Mr. Mulder." Scully decided to ignore the
fact that she had asked the question.
	"If you know the makeup of the team, then you know that there was
only one way they were going to be able to get close to Saddam.
Intelligence had a source, someone in Saddam's inner circle that was
setting him up to be executed. Assassinated. The only reason they were
pulled out is because someone changed their mind. Someone didn't want
Saddam killed, and the team was ordered out."
	"Do you know who?" Mulder asked.
	"No," Jenkins said, shaking his head. "But it had to be someone
pretty high up. The order came from the NMCC direct. There's no record
of the communication in the NMCC logs. None at all."
	Scully was confused. "Why would they order the mission scrubbed?
Especially if they knew where Saddam was?"
	Jenkins replaced his glasses. "Remember your history, Agent
Scully. I don't know this for a fact, but I do have some suspicions."
	Scully crossed her arms and leaned against the door again. "And
those would be...?"
	"We needed Saddam, Agent Scully. We needed someone in the area
that was a threat. The military budget was in danger of being cut. You
have to remember...the mission took place sixteen hours into the ground
war. It was obvious by that time that the coalition forces were going to
kick Saddam's army out of Kuwait. Someone realized that if the public,
if the Congress saw how easy it was for our forces to swat Saddam like a
fly, they would have justification to downsize the Army, shrink the Navy
and Marine Corps, and decimate the Air Force. Why would we need all that
expensive hardware if we could just run roughshod over people?
	"Saddam was allowed to live because we needed a credible threat in
the area, so we could come back again. So we would be able to keep the
military the size it was, with the manpower, staffing, equipment, and
all those wonderful pork-barrel projects that the Generals and Admirals
seem to love so much."
	"Let me get this straight," Mulder said. "You are telling us-"
	Jenkins straightened in his chair. "I am telling you, Mr. Mulder,
that someone in the Pentagon decided to halt all offensive covert
actions against Saddam so that they could send more American boys and
girls to die in the name of protecting their budget!"

======================================================================
END CHAPTER 12

End Notes : I was talking with another author via email the other day,
and we mentioned that we both like to `cast' stories in our head as we
write them, that is, imagine what actor would play the parts of
characters that we create. Starting with this chapter of "Umbra," I
will attempt to cast the actors that I imagine playing the supporting
and guest-starring roles in my stories. That's what the "Casting" line
means in the header of this and all subsequent chapters. If the heading
says "None," that means that only characters that we have already seen
on television will be appearing in that chapter.

USS Georgia - For those of you in the Navy, or who were in the Navy, I
know that most, if not all, 688I-boats are named after cities and not
states. I hadn't completed my research into Los Angeles-class SSN's when
I wrote chapter 11, and so that's why she was named Georgia.