"Umbra" 13/? 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 : June 1, 1997 Archive Entry : Book I, Chapter 13 Classification : Action Adventure, MSR Rating : R (Adult Themes, Violence, Adult Language, nudity) Notes : Some nudity, but no sexual contact. Antishipper : 7 on a scale of 1-10. Shipper : 8 on a scale of 1-10. Casting : William H. Macy "Captain Newton" : John C. McGinley "Commander Jenkins" : Tom Sizemore "Annapolis Detective" : Robert Prosky "Jail Guard" : Glenne Headly "Commander Maggie King" : Kyle Chandler "Yeomen Richie Anderson" : Val Kilmer "Commander Matthew Stone" Timeline : 4th year, prior to anything having to do with cancer. Enjoy! ---------------------------------------------------------- Aboard the USS Georgia (SSN-56) Berthing Space 32 US Submarine Base Groton, CT "Let's back up a minute," Mulder said, his mind racing. "You admitted a moment ago to being contacted about our arrival, and about being told to lie to us." Jenkins nodded. "Who contacted you?" "I don't know." Mulder's face showed his disbelief, and Jenkins hurried to explain. "Late last night, the Officer of the Watch came to my bunk and told me that I had a message waiting at the SUBGRU 2 operations desk. That's not rare, when we're tied up alongside the pier like this. "I went to get the message. All it had was a telephone number and a time to call. I was curious, so I called. The voice on the other end of the phone made it very clear very quickly that she knew all about the Article 32 board regarding Stone, and about my complicity in the cover- up. She told me that two FBI agents, a man and a woman, would be coming to visit me today to talk about the case, and that I was to lie through my teeth about it." Mulder and Scully exchanged a silent glance. "She?" Scully prompted. "The voice was female?" "That's what I said, isn't it?" Mulder leaned back, trying to figure the angles. If Major Haynes hadn't been currently occupying a drawer in the DC Medical Examiner's office, she would have been his first suspect. "What did the voice tell you to say?" Scully asked. Jenkins looked away, the color in his face deepening. "She told me to deny everything. Not that I was on the board, but that there was a cover-up, that I knew anything of substance about the Iraqi mission. She told me to tell you that there wasn't enough evidence to convene a General Court Martial, and so we had no choice under the UCMJ but to acquit." His voice was quiet when he finished; the man was obviously ashamed at what he had done. That was good, Mulder thought. He was not above using the man's embarrassment to further his own ends. "Ok, so you were told to acquit, or you would suffer adverse affects on your career. You think that the only reason you were told to acquit was to cover up a larger issue, the conspiracy involving members of the US military senior command structure to assassinate Saddam and then cover up the fact that they changed their mind in an effort to protect their budget." "That's correct," Jenkins said softly. Scully moved into action. "You'll have to do better than that, Jenkins. That makes no sense." Jenkins' head snapped up. "What?" "The military has never needed a concrete reason to ask for more money. This was during the Gulf War, remember? The government, the military, the citizens were all gung ho over the war. There was no danger in cutting the military budget. At that time, Bush was all but certain to be elected to a second term." She paused, unfolding the papers she held and clicking the button on her ballpoint. She leaned over the captain's desk, preparing to sign the papers. "He's not cooperating, Mulder," she said mildly. "I say we take him in." "Wait!" Scully paused and straightened. "You have something you want to add, Commander?" Jenkins looked between the two agents, his eyes wide and scared. "Sometimes...we need an enemy for more than the obvious reason, Agent Scully." "Such as?" "Promotion," he said softly. "Explain that, please," Mulder requested. "It might have been the budget, like I said. It was something I suspected. No one ever confirmed it. But...it also could have been for another reason. See...the Admirals and the Generals...they're all veterans of Korea and Vietnam, and before them, World War II. They were all company and brigade commanders, sometimes even Division commanders. By the time Grenada and Panama came around, they had entire Corps under their commands, entire fleets. And when it comes time for the new Generals and Admirals to be named, to be promoted, they want men with combat experience, men who have been the places they've been and seen the things they've seen. They won't trust command of the fleets and the armies to men who have only fought in a simulator. They need wars, Agent Scully, Agent Mulder...they need wars to prepare the men who are going to command the wars of the future." The two FBI agents exchanged another glance. "Are you telling us that the senior military leadership of this country purposefully kept a madman in power when they had the means and the legal authority to dispose of him? Just so that a few more officers could earn battle stripes?" Jenkins nodded his head. "It's not beyond the realm of possibility," he said softly. "I've seen it before. Look at Vietnam, Agent Mulder. Company and field-grade officers, Captains and Majors and Colonels who came in-country for the minimum 90 days of a combat command to earn their Combat Infantry Badge. They had no business leading troops in the field! But they knew, they knew! that if they didn't have that little blue and silver badge on their uniform breast that they'd never make General Officer. There isn't a General Officer serving in the Army today that doesn't have a Ranger tab, jump wings and at least one CIB. For God's sake, Mulder, the head of Army Logistics has a second award star on his CIB! He's never had a true combat command in his life, except for the two 90-day tours he did in Vietnam!" Scully leaned back against the door and crossed her arms again. "For a Naval officer, Jenkins, you seem to know a lot about the senior Army leadership." Jenkins nodded. "I know it sounds strange, hearing this come from a squid, but the same is true for the Navy. There are only so many boats out there, so many ships that can be commanded. In order to make Flag rank, you have to command a ship of the line. We only have 10 or 12 Aircraft Carriers in service right now, all the battleships have been decommissioned, and what...fifty or sixty submarines? We have two dozen Ageis-class and Spruance-class guided missile cruisers. But, we have over two hundred flag officers. Where are we going to find the men with combat experience to promote unless we give them combat experience? And you can't get combat experience without a war, Agent Scully." Scully's arched eyebrow communicated her skepticism better than any words ever could. "Look, think about it this way. A captain of any vessel has the boat or the ship, at the most, for only three years. They work and they work for years and years to get that little gold star. In the Submarine Service, once they get a boat, once they've commanded a boat, they go ashore for a staff position, and once they get promoted to the next level, they take over as commander of a SUBGRU or a SUBFOR. They don't get another boat. Getting a second sea command is almost unheard of in today's Navy. And if you want Admiral's stars, you're gonna need that combat command ticket punched. That's all there is to it. "So when I left the Article 32 board, I started thinking. Who benefits? Who would benefit from keeping Saddam in power?" Jenkins started counting on his fingers, ticking the various options off. "First, the Iraqis, or specifically, Saddam. He gets to keep his head, and stay in power. For that, he might give a ton of concessions to the US and the coalition forces. That wasn't forthcoming, so I disregarded that one. Second, the intelligence agencies. They get to impress on Congress how important it is to have human assets on the ground in hostile countries. We didn't have a single HUMINT source in Iraq, folks. Third, the military. For two reasons. Primarily, we get to have an enemy still in place, and still capable of causing trouble in the region. That lets us put political pressure on the Saudis and the other Arab members of the coalition forces to allow us to keep NSA listening posts and other covert intelligence operations going on their soil. It gives is a foothold in the region, allows us to expand our presence quietly, covertly. Secondly, it allows the military to go to Congress and cry and plead and beg for more money, for more manpower. Just as there are only so many ships in the Navy to command, Agent Scully, there are only so many senior commands in the Army and Marine Corps. Only so many Divisions and Corps. And from there, that thought led to how commands are granted, how the officers are picked. "Experience. Combat experience. And like I said, you can only get combat experience by fighting in a war. And keeping Saddam in power was the best way to make sure that another war will happen in that region of the world within the next ten or fifteen years. Enough time for the Lieutenants and Captains serving now to become Lieutenant Colonels and Colonels, commanding Divisions and Brigades, giving them the chance to earn their battle spurs and move on up to General rank. Enough time for the junior officers aboard this boat to move up through their shore assignments, through the senior staff schools...just enough time for them to take command of their own attack boats and go out and shoot some Tomahawks off at Saddam again next time." Mulder shook his head slowly, considering all the points that Jenkins had made. "Still doesn't add up, Commander. Why did Stone break radio silence? It was almost as if he knew ahead of time that they were going to call the mission off." Jenkins shrugged. "Is that so hard to believe? I can't speak for Stone, but I've known some other intelligence types over the years. They all love dealing in the gray areas, Agent Mulder. They get off on the duplicitous nature of their jobs. On knowing things that other people don't'. Having sources deep inside hostile governments. Stone was probably planning on breaking radio silence the entire time. He might have known that the mission was going to be scrubbed. Hell, he might have even asked that it be, and then come back to tell Graves that it had been called off. "They live in the shadow, Mulder. In the deepest, darkest shadows. In the umbra." Scully folded the papers she was holding and slipped them inside her jacket. "Thank you, Commander," she said, straightening up. "You've been a wonderful help." "Don't take my word for it," Jenkins insisted. "Talk to the other submariner. Commander Armfield." "The Chicago is at sea," Mulder said. "No, she put in last night." Jenkins paused. "I've already called Armfield. I left him a message, a rather cryptic message to anyone else that might read it, but he'll understand." "What was the nature of the message?" Scully asked. "That I was going to reveal the truth to you if asked directly, and that if he knew what was good for him, he would, too." "Where is the Chicago?" Mulder asked. "Pearl Harbor," Jenkins replied. Once again, the partners exchanged a glance. Mulder saw something in Scully's eyes, something close to amusement, and he could practically read her thoughts. Skinner's gonna love that, he thought. Scully reached inside her jacket and retrieved her cellphone. She dialed the FBI Travel Office, gave them her ID number and authorization code, and had two tickets from Hartford to Hawaii via JFK and LAX arranged within minutes. Disconnecting, she spoke to Mulder, who had been chewing his lip while he mulled all the information they had gathered. "Better call Karn," she said. Mulder nodded and held his hand out. Scully slapped her cell phone into his palm and turned her attention to Jenkins. "Here's what we want you to do," she started. "If your contact calls you back, leaves a message, anything, I want you to tell them that you told us nothing. You did as asked. You lied through your teeth. The cover story we're going to tell Karn, for now, is that the reason we need to get aboard the Chicago is to talk to Commander Armfield because you were unable to shed any more light on the subject, but you thought that he might. Understand?" Jenkins nodded. Mulder was speaking, and Jenkins struggled to overhear. "That's right," Mulder said. "I need the Georgia to put out to sea as soon as possible, with all hands. Today, if that can be arranged. Also, we need the Chicago held at Pearl for at least 24, maybe 48 hours. We'll need the same deal there that we had here; access to the boat and crew. What? No, I just think that Commander Armfield might be able to shed some more light on this entire business, that's all." Mulder paused and shot a look at his partner. "No, I haven't heard from Stone since yesterday. I'd check with the Annapolis police, though." Another pause. "Just a hunch. Thank you, Admiral." Mulder hung up and handed Scully back her phone. "We're set for the Chicago. Commander, you and the rest of the Georgia are going to put out to sea in the next two or three hours. Can you get the captain back in here? We need to talk to him before we leave." "Of course," Jenkins said, standing. He moved to the MC1 mounted on the bulkhead and lifted the phone, dialing the number "1" on the pad. "Captain, this is the XO. Our two guests would like-" He stopped in mid sentence. "Thank you, sir," he said after a moment, and hung up the handset. "The captain is on-" The door opened, and Mulder had to smile. A submarine was not a very large place. "Commander, thank you," Scully said, inclining her head towards the door. Jenkins looked at his Captain who nodded. "Dismissed, XO." Jenkins smiled gratefully and all but ran out of the Captain's cabin, shutting the door behind him. "Get all you need?" Captain Newton asked. Scully answered for them both. "Mostly, sir. We just wanted to take a moment to talk to you about certain aspects of what happened here today. Commander Jenkins possessed information about a case we're working on. I wanted to impress upon you the fact that Commander Jenkins is a source, sir, not a suspect. He is a fine officer, one you should be proud to serve with." Her words were unnecessary, she saw. Newton was the kind of commander that really didn't give a hoot what other people thought about the men under him. Newton looked like the type that formed his own opinions, OERs be damned. "Very well." "One more thing," Mulder said. "I suspect that you might want to prepare to move out to sea. I have a hunch that you might be getting orders to get lost for a while." Newton turned his full attention to Mulder, his brows knitting with concentration, then alarm. "Just who the hell are you, Agent Mulder? How high does your influence go? Are you telling me that you can order a Naval vessel out to sea?" "No, sir," Scully interjected, flashing her partner an angry look. "It's just that...well, we're working closely with NIS, and the case is very...sensitive. We just feel that it best that Commander Jenkins be... unavailable for a few days, until this is all straightened out. Our contacts at NIS have made certain...arrangements." "Captain, radio," a voice called out. Mulder and Scully looked around, wondering where the voice had come from. Set below the MC1 was a smaller device, something that looked suspiciously like a Radio Shack home intercom system, only where the distinctive Radio Shack logo would have been, there was the equally distinctive emblem of General Dynamics. I wonder how much that cost, Mulder thought, trying to hide a smile. A ten-thousand dollar intercom. "Go ahead, Radio." "Flash traffic on the SATCOM," the comm officer called. "Decoding now." "Bring it to my cabin," Newton ordered, and then moved back to face the two FBI agents. "I assume those are my sailing orders?" "Uh..." Mulder said, clearly embarrassed that Karn could move so quickly. He was saved from further explanation by a knock at the door. A Lieutenant (jg) opened the door at Newton's bark of "Come!" and handed the captain the communication flimsy. Newton read it quickly, swore softly under his breath, and moved to the MC1, lifting the handset and punching several numbers. "Engine Room, this is the Captain. I want you ready to answer bells in two hours." He listened to the response and then broke the connection with his finger. He dialed again. "Conn, this is the Captain. Be prepared to get underway within two hours. Recall all sailors ashore at once, and prepare to take on stores. We'll need enough for a month of operations." He hung up without a further word and faced the two agents again. "I am impressed, Agent Mulder, I will say that." He handed the flimsy to Mulder, who read it quickly and then handed it to Scully. CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET - JULIET/QUINCY NOFORDIS EYES ONLY - NO COPIES - DO NOT LOG TO : COMMANDING OFFICER, USS GEORGIA (SSN 55) FROM: COMSUBLANT CC : COMMANDING OFFICER, SUBFOR ALPHA DATE: 17MAY97 1. BY ORDER, COMSUBLANT, YOU ARE ORDERED TO PUT TO SEA BY 1200 HOURS EST (1800 HOURS UT). 2. REF (1) ABOVE, YOU ARE ORDERED TO CONDUCT TRAINING EXERCISE CHARLIE BRAVO SIX THREE IN EXERCISE AREA 12-JULIET. 3. REF (2) ABOVE, THE EXPECTED TIME REQUIRED TO COMPLETE THIS EXERCISE SHALL NOT BE LESS THAN THREE (3) WEEKS UNLESS OTHER ORDERS ARE TRANSMITTED VIA ELF BY COMSUBLANT. 4. REF (1),(2),(3) ABOVE, ALL LEAVES ARE HEREBY CANCELED AND ALL ASHORE CREWMEMBERS ARE HEREBY RECALLED. 5. YOU WILL TRANSMIT ACK OF THIS ORDER WITHIN THIRTY (30) MINUTES OF RECEIVING IT. NO REQUESTS FOR RESCINDING OF THIS ORDER OR ANY CHANGES OF ITS OPERATIONAL SPECIFICATIONS WILL BE ENTERTAINED AT THIS TIME. FOR COMSUBLANT VICE ADMIRAL COCKLE, CHIEF OF STAFF Scully felt her eyebrows crawling up as she read it. Handing it back to Newton, she had a small smile on her face. "I'm sorry, Captain. But trust me...this is best for all concerned." Newton studied Scully's face for a long moment. "Let me ask you something," he said, just as quietly. "What if this boat hadn't been seaworthy? What would you have done then?" Scully turned to Mulder, who answered without hesitation. "I would have had Commander Jenkins temporarily transferred off this boat to shore duty. Somewhere far away, where his movements couldn't be tracked." Newton shook his head. "Do you have any idea what kind of impact that would have had on his career? Getting transferred out of an XO billet on an attack boat under suspicious circumstances under the direction and encouragement of the FBI would not have helped his career any." Mulder was unrepentant. "Do you have any idea what impact leaving Jenkins dockside might have had on his ?" Newton considered this and then nodded. "One final question, if you please." Both agents waited. "Will Jenkins...or either of you... ever be able to tell me what this is all about?" The two partners exchanged yet another silent, wholly communicative glance. Newton watched their faces work as they spoke volumes without uttering a word. God, Newton thought, they work together like the best crew I've ever seen! "Probably not, sir," Scully finally admitted. "But I will tell you this much. What Commander Jenkins did was probably one of the bravest things I have ever seen, and if medals were given out for that sort of action, he'd have a chestfull. Remember that when you write his OER." Newton nodded. "Very well. If you'll excuse me, I have a cruise to prepare for." He departed, leaving the two agents standing his cabin, unsure of how to get off the boat. Mulder pointed towards the MC1 with his chin. "Think we should call the porter?" "C'mon, Mulder...I've been on one of these before. I'm sure I can find my way off." Radio Room USS Chicago (SSN-220) Pearl Harbor Naval Base Pearl Harbor, Hawaii 0403 Local Time (1603 UT) CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET - QUINCY/FOX NOFORDIS EYES ONLY - NO COPIES - DO NOT LOG TO : COMMANDING OFFICER, USS CHICAGO (SSN-220) FROM: COMSUBPAC CC : COMMANDING OFFICER, SUBFOR DELTA DATE: 17MAY97 1. BY ORDER COMSUBPAC, YOU WILL REMAIN ON STATION AT PEARL HARBOR NAVY BASE FOR FORTY EIGHT (48) HOURS OR UNTIL FURTHER ORDERS ARE RECEIVED. 2. REF (1) ABOVE, YOU WILL PREPARE TO TAKE ON BOARD TWO AGENTS OF THE FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION ON 18MAY. 3. THESE AGENTS WILL BE CONDUCTING INTERVIEWS WITH CREW MEMBERS ABOARD THE CHICAGO. YOU WILL MAKE AVAILABLE TO THESE TWO AGENTS ALL CREW MEMBERS, INCLUDING O AND E-LEVEL. THESE TWO AGENTS WILL BE ASSUMED TO HAVE THE NEED TO KNOW REGARDING ANY CLASSIFIED INFORMATION UP TO BUT NOT INCLUDING CNWDI. 4. REQUESTS FOR FURTHER INFORMATION SHOULD BE DIRECTED TO : COMMANDER, SUBMARINE FORCES, PACIFIC (COMSUBPAC,), COMMANDER, NAVAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE, OR THE JUDGE ADVOCATE GENERALS OFFICE. FOR COMSUBPAC RADM WATTS CHIEF OF STAFF Annapolis Police Department, City Jail 11:30AM EST Commander Matthew Stone stared at the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head, trying to count the cracks in the plaster. It was an exercise he had learned over the years, something he used to calm his emotions when they threatened to tear out of control. At the moment, he was barely containing his seething, overwhelming anger. The complete embarrassment of being arrested while sitting in his car outside Scully's apartment was nothing compared to the fact that this was, somehow, going to get out. He'd been forced by circumstances to give the cops Karn's name. He'd made the mistake of claiming that he was on an assignment for NIS when the Annapolis cops had pulled him out of his car, and they had done what they were supposed to: Asked for the name of his CO so they could check it out. And if Mulder or that bitch Scully had already told Karn that he was off the case, then he would really be off his case, for real. Karn wouldn't take well to his...what? Stalking? That's what the Annapolis pigs had called it. They'd booked him on a charge of domestic stalking and thrown his ass into a cell. They'd taken his weapon, his ID, his belt...even his shoelaces. As if he were some wretch that was so broken up over the loss of the Fair Scully that he was going to kill himself. Stone snorted in the dark, dank cell. Plenty of women worth killing for, he thought. Not one of `em worth dying for. There was movement at the end of the corridor. The Annapolis City Jail was made up of twelve cells, six on each side of the hallway. In deference to his military standing and rank, they had placed Stone in a cell by himself. Swinging his feet over the edge of the cot, he stood. A guard approached the cell with a huge ring of keys in his hand. Trailing him was one of the detectives that had interviewed him the previous night. The cop had a two-day growth of beard on his face, and a world-weary expression on his face. "Commander," the cop said. "Detective." "I have a message for you," the cop said. "We called your Admiral Karn, and he confirmed that you were working on assignment." Thank God! Stone thought, but said nothing, keeping his face carefully neutral. "But, he has ordered you to return to NIS headquarters at once. He informed us that if we found you skulking around Scully's apartment like some lovesick teenager again that we were to consider you `off the reservation,' and arrest you at once. Those were his exact words, Stone." Matt said nothing, his eyes boring into the cop's. After a long moment, Stone finally asked, "That mean I can get out of this hole?" "Sure," the detective said, nodding at the guard. The guard inserted one of the huge keys in the cell door and twisted it left. It took two full revolutions before he slid the door to the left. Stone stepped through, taking a deep breath. "And the charges?" "I wasn't able to get a hold of Agent Mulder or Scully, Commander. The charges aren't dropped...but they aren't pending, either. Admiral Karn made it clear that this entire situation was unusual. If Miss Scully comes down and signs these charges, then-" "Bullshit," Stone said around his famous shark's grin. "She won't sign anything." Ah, the cop thought. True love. Stone turned to leave and then stopped. "I assume my weapon and other personal effects-?" The cop motioned up the corridor with his hand. "At the front desk, Commander." Stone turned on his heel and left without another word. *** Standing outside on the front steps of the City Jail building, Stone blinked in the bright sunlight. He'd taken just enough time to thread his belt back into his pants and tuck his weapon into the small of his back. His shoes still did not have their laces, but he didn't care. He had things to do. And getting back to NIS HQ was not one of them. He glanced at his watch, trying to calculate the time he had. Five, maybe six hours. Not much time. It was Saturday, just before noon. Where would she be? Home, probably. She was always home when she wasn't working. She was predictable as clockwork, just like the rest of them. Whistling, Stone headed for the corner, trying to see if there were any taxis available. Apartment 15 323 Evergreen Terrace Annapolis, MD 1204 Hours EST Commander Maggie King, USNR, looked up, startled. The knock on her apartment door was unexpected; she hadn't even heard anyone walking down the hallway. Putting down the book she was reading, she headed for the door. Peering through the peephole, Maggie saw who was standing on her doorstep and gasped, stepping back. What the hell was he doing here? "Open up, Maggie. I know you're in there," Stone called through the door. Aboard Delta Airlines Flight 1027 Enroute to JFK International Airport 1230 Hours EST "Mulder," Scully said, breaking his train of thought. "Do you really think Commander Armfield can give us any more insight? It looks as though they were all told the same thing. Forget what you heard. Deny everything." "Obfuscate-" "Yeah, yeah," Scully said with a smile. Mulder's memory was so annoying sometimes. "But really-" "I'm not sure, Scully. Jenkins seemed to think so. And Karn reacted pretty quickly." Scully nodded, her expression troubled. "That's another thing, Mulder. All these TWXs he's sending out under our direction. The Navy is a small place, especially at the top. Someone's going to notice that NIS is ordering ships around like pawns on a chessboard, and someone is going to start asking questions pretty damn quickly. We could be telegraphing our intentions." "How so?" Scully sighed. "My father...did a bit of work in Naval Intelligence, and I remember a conversation I heard him having with my mother. He had sources everywhere, Mulder. He made a habit out of making as many friends as he could on as many bases as he could, on as many ships as he could. He loved the backchannel information. He said it was his private `fifth-column' of operatives." Mulder nodded, digesting this. "What else can we do, Scully? I might be able to dress up as a Navy officer and bluff my way aboard a nuclear submarine, but I doubt you'd be able to." A quick, delicious image of Mulder in dress whites, with a chestfull of ribbons danced across Scully's mind, and she pushed the thought away, wanting to concentrate on the task at hand. Later, she promised herself. "Yeah. There is that." They fell into a comfortable silence again. "Besides," Mulder said after a few minutes, "think of this as a Hawaiian vacation on the Bureau." Scully smiled. He had no idea. The FBI travel office had called her back just as they had descended the gangplank of the Georgia. They had wanted to know if, instead of two hotel rooms, a suite would be acceptable. Scully had asked a question or two, and it had turned out that Abbey, Skinner's secretary, was an old friend of the secretary in the travel office, who was in turn an old friend of the secretary of the hotel's manager. A suite was cheaper than two separate rooms, and the word had been spread to ease the way of she and Mulder on this mission. Scully had thought about it for all of two seconds. She'd agreed to the suite without exactly knowing why. If it ever came up, she would deny the conversation ever took place and blame it on a booking misunderstanding, just as she was sure Mulder would if he were ever asked. It was a surprise she was saving for Hawaii, and she couldn't wait to see his face. Apartment 15 323 Evergreen Terrace Annapolis, MD 1207 Hours EST "Maggie," Stone whispered through the door, "if you don't open up right now, I -will- kick this goddamned door down. I need to talk to you, NOW!" Maggie looked around her apartment, wondering if she had anything to defend herself with. At that moment, Yeoman Richie Anderson walked out of her bedroom, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Maggie swore under her breath. If Stone found out about Richie- "Maggie!" the voice on the other side of the door called. The knob rattled, and then there was a whump! as he threw his shoulder against it. "What's going on?" Anderson asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "Nothing. Go back to-" And then the door burst open. Commander Matthew Stone, USN, stood in the doorway for a moment, glancing up and down the hallway to see if anyone had noticed him breaking the door down. Satisfied that he was unobserved, he took a step inside the apartment and froze, spotting Anderson. "Get out, Richie," he growled. "Now." Yeoman Anderson saw the look on Stone's face and nodded. He ran back to the bedroom and grabbed at his clothes scattered at the foot of the bed. Turning and dashing back to the living room, he passed Commanders King and Stone, clutching the clothes to his chest. "I'll call you-" he said to King as he passed. She wouldn't return his gaze. She stared at the floor, chewing her lip. The same thought kept repeating itself in her head: My career is over. Stone owns me, and I will not do anything that this bastard wants, she thought. He's got me by the short-and-curlies. If I don't do what he wants, he'll turn me in to NIS. I'll be court-martialed and forcibly retired with a dishonorable discharge. The papers will be full of the story of the thirty-something single female naval officer who had seduced the young, naive yeoman farmboy. I'll be the laughing stock of the Navy, she thought. Goddamn him! And then another thought occurred to her. How did Stone know Richie's name? Stone shut the door, taking care not to make the damage any worse. "I'll pay for that, of course," he said. Maggie held up a hand. "I don't care, Matt. Whatever you want, you can forget it. I will not be a pawn in one of your little power games." Matt moved to take her in his arms, the charm already ratcheting up. "No, Maggie, you don't understand. That's not it at all. I just want to talk, I swear." King nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. The last time Stone had `wanted to talk' they had ended up in her bedroom, rolling around on top of the sheets like a couple of horny teenagers. Her body flushing with the memory of the pleasure that Stone had given her that long afternoon and night, Maggie moved away from him, trying to put some emotional and physical distance between them. "No, Matt...I know the way you work." Stone stopped his advance. "Fine. I won't touch you. Go sit on your couch, and I'll stand here. All that I ask is that you listen to what I have to say. I'll leave, and you can get on with your life. You can even continue sleeping with your little pal Richie. I won't say a word to anyone." Maggie desperately wanted to believe him. Richie had come to mean a lot to her. What had started out as a harmless flirtation between a superior and a subordinate had taken on a decidedly interesting turn over the last six months. Richie had seemed infatuated with her, with her body and her experience as a woman, and he had made it clear that he wanted to be with her every moment that he could. He was insatiable, always taking Maggie to new heights, to places she had never dreamed she would go with a man, any man. And then she remembered that Stone had known his name, and with a sudden certainty, she knew why Richie had `wanted' her so badly. "Oh, you son of a bitch," she whispered. "You're running Richie, aren't you? He's one of your sources!" "No," Stone said, holding up his hands. "I swear, he's not one of mine." "Then how the hell do you know his name?" Stone grimaced. Think fast, he thought. "His nameplate. On his desk. It says Richard Anderson." "So why didn't you call him Richard, Matt?" Maggie was close to tears now. "Because I heard you call him Richie once," Stone lied. It was just enough of a lie, a tiny little tidbit that he tossed her, and Maggie snapped it up gratefully. He saw her eyes clear, saw the hitching motions of her shoulders slowing and then stopping. "He's not one of yours?" "No," Stone lied. "I swear it. On my mother's eyes." Shakily, Maggie moved to the couch. "Fine, Matt. For now, I'll believe you." She sighed, leaning back against the cushions, running her hands through her hair. "Tell me what you came here to tell me." Corner of Evergreen Terrace & Willow Lane Annapolis, MD 1215 Hours Richie Anderson dialed the number from memory. "What?" "It's Richie Anderson," he said this time, wanting to establish himself immediately. The last time had been embarrassing. "Of course. What do you have for me?" "He's up there with her now, sir." "Perfect. Just as I planned." The voice paused. "How are things between you two, anyway?" Richie wondered if he should lie to this man, and decided against it in an instant. "Wonderful. She thinks I'm in love with her." "Are you?" Again, Richie paused. "I think I might be." "Be careful, Richie. Remember...you are working for me. Remember what I told you. Failure is not acceptable. You cannot become too close to this woman. She must trust you as she would trust a lover. But no further." Richie nodded, feeling stupid because he knew the man couldn't see him. The man's next words turned Richie's blood to ice. "That's right. I see you nodding. Have a nice day." The line clicked, and Richie hung the payphone up with shaking hands. Who this man? Was he everywhere at once? Apartment 15 323 Evergreen Terrace Annapolis, MD 1210 Hours EST "...so the mission was," Stone continued, "...to find Saddam and take him out." "You've already told me that much," Maggie pointed out. "I know, I'm getting to it!" Stone said, a little sharply. Softening his tone, he continued, "Let me finish, ok? Then I'll answer any questions you have." Maggie nodded, not sure where it was going, and not sure she wanted to know. "The thing of it is...we had someone. Someone inside. Very close to Saddam. The commander of his protection detail was in cahoots with the senior members of the military. They saw what the bombers were doing to the troops on the line. They knew that once the ground war started, if something wasn't done to stop Saddam, they'd lose their entire Army to us. "A message was sent to me through backchannels. Four senior members of the Iraqi army had agreed to set Saddam up for assassination. We'd insert a team, they'd tell us where he was going to be and when, and then a GBU-25 would take care of the rest. It was the fastest mission planning I'd ever seen. Texas Instruments changed the electronics package on the bomb in less than a week. Hughes Aerospace built three of them almost overnight. We tested one at China Lake, and the other two were shipped to Saudi. Then we were inserted. Everything looked good to go. The mission was on. It was a go. "But I had a safety built in. My contact knew a frequency that our STU's could pick up, but not transmit on. He was to send a coded, repeating signal, like Morse code, if the mission was still a go. If Saddam wasn't going to be there, or if the mission profile changed, he would inform us by that code." "Why?" Maggie asked. "Because...if Saddam wasn't going to be where he thought he was, and we dropped a new weapon on him, he'd know that someone close to him was a double-agent, and we'd lose our source. Saddam would have killed anyone he even suspected of having anything to do with it. And that source was too valuable to waste." Maggie nodded. It made sense, in a sick sort of way. It made sense to the shadow warriors, she thought. "So I check for the message about 12 hours before H-hour, and there's nothing. No signal, nothing at all. Which can only mean one thing. My source had been discovered, and was dead. I called the NMCC on the SATCOM and got our action officer on the line. I explained what had happened, and he scrubbed the mission. I told Scott that the mission had been scrubbed, but he didn't believe me. He wanted to go on. I offered to let him talk to the NMCC, but reminded me that we had strict radio silence orders. He was going to take the team in, no matter what." "Didn't he know about your source?" Matt looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "It wasn't my decision," he said softly. "Danny wasn't deemed to have the need to know." "But he was the commanding officer!" Matt nodded, still not able to meet her eyes. "I know. The tactical commander. When it came time to shoot and loot, he was the best. But intelligence wasn't his strong suit." Maggie digested that and waited for Stone to continue. "Anyway...I had no choice. You know what happened next. I won't go over that again. When we got back to the states and went through the debriefing, it came out that Saddam had discovered the traitor." Matt paused, thinking quickly. This next part was dicey. The story had to have just the right amount of truth to it. Just enough for Maggie to buy it. "Saddam found the traitor, somehow, and tortured and then executed him. Then he sent a message to Washington through the Syrian embassy. Saddam told Washington that if any attempt was made on his life, that he would launch the sixty SCUD missiles he had pointed at Israel." Matt paused again, and then thought of a particularly delicious way to end the story. "Those sixty SCUDs were specials, Maggie. They all had chemical warheads." Maggie took a ragged breath. "So by killing Danny, you're claiming that you saved all those lives, is that it?" Stone tried to control his frown. "Well, I might not have put it that way, but-" "Sure you would, Matt. You're always the first one to blow your own horn. I wouldn't put it past you to do something that...cold." Matt decided to change tactics. "I remember a time when you didn't mind blowing my horn." Maggie looked up, disgusted, feeling her face twisting with revulsion. And then she saw him, saw him sitting there, his face wide and open, his eyes clear and honest. It was a look the damn man had perfected, a look that he had practiced in front of the mirror for countless hours, and she remembered. Maggie remembered the hours they had spent in her bedroom, doing things and...experiencing things that she had never thought she was capable off. She remembered the heights this man had taken her to, remembered the way he had touched her, stroked her, moved her along slowly until she had been reduced to a writhing mass on the bed, pleading, begging for release. And then he would take here there, push her gently over the top, into that deep, dark abyss of pleasure. And that was the exact moment her body betrayed her. Her body didn't care about moral issues and intelligence objectives. Her body only remembered the pleasure this man had given her, and to Maggie's utter horror, she felt herself become aroused at the memories of her times with this man. She felt her nipples hardening and knew without looking down that they were visible through the thin cotton of her Annapolis T-shirt. Of all the mornings not to wear a bra, she thought. And then Stone was moving. He'd seen his chance and knew what he had to do. As distasteful as it was, he saw his opening. He was beside her on the couch, his hands moving towards her head, capturing her cheeks, turning her face to his, leaning down, his mouth reaching for hers. "I've missed you so much," he whispered, and then kissed her. Maggie King moaned, lost in his kiss, lost in this man's embrace, lost in the feeling of lust and hunger his touch caused inside her. I'm lost, she thought. I'm his. Dammit. She broke the kiss and stood, turning to walk to her bedroom. Standing at the foot of the bed, she removed her T-shirt and dropped it at her feet. Barefoot, and wearing only a pair of cotton hiking shorts and panties, she moved to the bed, turning to face the doorway where Stone stood. He was unbuttoning his uniform jacket, a wry grin plastered across his face. "Maggie," he breathed. And for the second time in as many hours, Maggie King took a member of the Naval service into her bed, both members leaving her with the feeling of being utterly and totally used. *** After, Maggie was on her back, staring at the ceiling. "Why?" she asked. "Why what?" "Why did you come here?" "Maggie-" "Don't bullshit me, Stone. I know you didn't come here because you think I'm the next Cindy Crawford. You knew you could get me into bed with that damn smile of yours. Well, now you've had me. I hope your happy. And I know the other shoe is about to drop, so let's just get it the hell over with, ok? Tell me what you want." If Stone was hurt by her accusation, he didn't remark about it. "Karn. I need you to call Karn for me. Tell him that...tell him that you've been in contact with me, and that everything is not as it appears." "Why?" "Because he's ordered me back to Virginia, and I have somewhere else I need to be." Maggie rolled over, giving Stone her back. "Fine," she whispered, feeling the tears starting. "Go, Matt. Get out. I'll call Karn in a few hours." She felt his hand on her shoulder, tugging her back to face him. His expression was dark, unreadable. "Listen to me, Maggie. You may have me pretty well figured out. But you don't know every damn thing. And trust me on this...you are doing the right thing. If I don't get to San Diego, a lot of people are going to die." Maggie looked in his eyes, searching for the truth. She thought she saw it, and she seized on it. "Fine, Matt. Just do me a favor, ok?" "Anything," he said, and then added, "If I can." "The next time you need me to do something, just ask me, ok? Don't fuck me twice. Once will be enough." Aboard Delta Airlines Flight 203 Bound for Oahu, Hawaii 2100 Hours Local Time (0900 UT) "Ever been to Pearl?" Scully asked. "No, you?" "Once. Mom brought all of us out to visit Dad one Christmas." Mulder grinned. "You and Missy in Hawaii. Now that's a thought." "Mulder, I said `all of us.' Bill and Charlie were with us!" "Oh, right. The two brothers that I've never met and exist only in faked photographs and your overactive imagination." Scully grunted, deciding not to reply in kind. It would only encourage him. "Well, Pearl's such a beautiful place," she started. "Yeah, I've seen pictures," Mulder remarked. "Oh?" Scully asked. "Sure, Scully. Pearl Harbor started off as a coaling station in the late 1800's. We signed a treaty with King Kalakaua in about 1887 or so to get exclusive rights to the harbor. We built a shore establishment in about 1900 or 1901, and it was added to the 14th Naval District shortly after that. It now ranks-" "Enough, Mulder. God, do you remember every single thing you read?" "Yup," he said. "The Navy's real big in Hawaii. In addition to COMSUBPAC, there's CINCPACFLT and CINCPAC, all sorts of commands out there." "Mulder, you are a never-ending fount of knowledge, you know that? If there was only a attached to that mouth..." "Oooh, Scully...feisty. I like that." They locked gazes for a long moment and then Scully tore her eyes away, looking instead out the window. It was night, so there was nothing to see but the wing, but she needed the moment to get her breath back. I could fall into his eyes, she thought. Fall in and never come out. If she tried very hard, Scully could almost forget how much of a fool she had made of herself over the past few days with Matt. She had no idea yet how much it had hurt her partner. She felt his hand close over hers, the thumb stroking her skin softly, gently. There was fire, electricity where their skin touched. She gasped. "Penny for your thoughts, Scully." "I was thinking about the ocean-" "Nuts to that, Scully. What's on that enigmatic mind of yours?" She sighed. Trying to lie to Mulder was like trying to lie to God. "Matt. You. Me. Us." "Hmmmm," was all he said, encouraging her. "I...want to apolo-" "Wait," he said, squeezing her hand. "Tonight, when we get settled, I'll come to your room, or you can come to mine, and we'll talk about it." He paused. "For as long as you want." His smile, when she turned to face him, was sweet and gentle. The Mulder she had fallen in love with sat next to her, offering her his strength. What? Fallen in love with? Scully felt her expression change at the words flooded through her mind. She was saved from having to say anything more by a flight attendant stooping over their seats, holding a plastic trash bag. "We're almost ready to start our descent," she said, "and I'm collecting all the trash..." Mulder handed her his plastic cup and napkin, and Scully followed suit. A moment later the captain's voice filled the cabin as he confirmed the flight attendant's claim. The huge airliner banked slowly to the left and descended into Oahu. Holiday Inn Oahu - Front Desk Oahu, Hawaii 2330 Hours "Yes, Mr. Mulder, your suite is ready. We kept it on a late hold-" "Excuse me?" Mulder said, not sure he'd heard correctly. "I said your suite-" "Suite? Not two rooms?" The night manager looked up in horror. "Uh, no sir...the reservation came in as a suite." "That's unacceptable," Mulder said. "We'll need two-" He felt a touch on his elbow and he glanced down at Scully. All he needed to see was in her eyes. "Never mind," he said, turning his attention back to the manager. "The suite is fine. Where do I sign?" The manager slid the check-in card across the counter, wondering what the hell was going on. The small billing code at the upper left hand corner of the card indicated that the bill would be paid by the Justice Department. They had a standing account with the hotel. But, as all hotel employees know, the night manager had seen more than his share of strange goings-on in his lobby over the years. This was just one more to add to the list, and a minor one at that. "Front!" he called, reaching for the bell. Mulder stayed his hand. "That won't be necessary," he said softly. Together, Mulder and Scully turned from the front desk and walked to the elevator. Once the doors closed, Scully hesitated a moment and then moved, sliding her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest. "I wanted it to be a surprise, Mulder..." she started. "The suite?" She nodded against him, loving the feeling of his warmth against her. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, soft, almost afraid. "I got us a suite...in case you didn't want to...hold me tonight... you could have your own room." Mulder wished she would look at him so she could see the expression on his face. The thought of being able to hold Scully all night long was not exactly a horrible one. "Shhhh," he said instead. "I promised we'd talk, and we will." Mulder looked at the lights above the doors and realized that the car wasn't moving; he'd been so tired he'd forgotten to push a button. Digging the key out of his pocket, he looked down to find the room number. "Hey, Scully, what's "P" mean?" "Give me that." Her voice was eager. Wordlessly, he handed her the key. She moved to the panel and studied it for a moment. At the very top there was a small slot. The plastic tab that held the room key had another, smaller key on it. Holding her breath, she slid the smaller key into the slot on the panel. It fit. She turned it, and the car lurched upwards. "Oh my god," she whispered. "What?" "It's the penthouse, Mulder!" *** They stood in the doorway, looking at the suite. Scully made a mental note to send Abbey a dozen roses in the morning. If Skinner ever found out...God, she hoped they were being billed at a normal suite's rate. She walked to a small table in the foyer and lifted the phone. "Operator," a voice said. "Front desk, please." Two clicks later a voice answered, "Front desk, Night Manager." "This is Dr. Scully in the Penthouse...uh, I was under the assumption-" "Think nothing more of it, Dr. Scully. Our friend at the Justice Department explained everything. The room is being billed at the normal rate. Enjoy." "Thank you," Scully said and hung up. Explained? Explained what? Mulder had taken the opportunity to explore the suite. He came back, his eyes wide with boyish excitement. When he looked like that, there was nothing that she could deny him. "Pretty cool, huh?" "Cool?" he asked. "Scully, there's only one bathroom!" "So? We can share?" She saw the look that crossed his face and had to hide a blush of her own. That's not what I meant, Mulder, she thought. Was it? They carried their bags into the separate rooms. She took the one closest to the ocean. There was a sliding glass door in her room that opened to a small cement deck, and she stepped out, breathing in the salt air. She could see the moon hovering over the water, and it was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever witnessed. All that was missing was someone to share it with. Scully smiled as she felt Mulder come up behind her. His hands found her waist, holding her gently from behind, almost as if he were afraid to do anything more. Scully took the initiative. She reached down and grabbed his wrists, drawing Mulder's arms around her like a jacket, leaning back into him. "Nice view," she said. "Yes. The moon's nice, too." She laughed. Every once in a while, he said something that was just...perfect. She felt her eyes growing heavy, and realized that she was still on DC time. It was almost morning back in Washington. "Time for bed, Scully?" "Yeah," she whispered. They stood there for another minute and then turned to go back inside. That is, Scully turned, and Mulder stood where he was until she was facing him. He spoke: "Luna the goddess smiles down from a dark sky touching everything she sees with silver fingers of love." Scully felt a warmth in her chest, and then a moister heat somewhere south of her heart. "Donne?" she quizzed. "No," Mulder said, blushing. "Someone else." "Who?" His eyes slid from her face to find the ocean again. "I forget." Now she knew he was lying. "Mulder...did you also forget who you're talking to? You don't forget anything. Now give...who wrote that?" Instinctively, she knew the answer before he spoke. "I did." "Oh!" Scully said. His head moved a fraction of an inch towards hers, his entire body asking a question. She moved closer to him, also by a fraction, silently giving permission. The first brush of their lips was soft, yet electric. Mulder knew what she had been through with Stone, and was trying to show her that he was not that man, that he did not take what was not offered. She moved against him, showing him that she was offering, asking, pleading, begging for his touch, his kiss, his gentle warmth. His arms slid around her, and hers around him. He felt her petite heat against his body and it inflamed him. The kiss deepened, and then smoothed out. They lost themselves in it for a single, perfect moment in time, and then broke apart, moving inside, arm in arm. Reluctantly, he let her go and moved towards the bedroom door, intending to change in his room. "Mulder." Her voice was quiet yet...hungry. It's tone stopped him in his tracks. He turned. Scully had shed her jacket and was nimbly unbuttoning her blouse. "Scully...what-?" She glanced up at him, imploring him to be silent as she shared this with him for the first time. Yes, he had seen her naked before. He knew what she looked like, how the planes and curves of her body filled and shaped the light around her. There was only one light on in the room, and it cast a soft, warm glow around her. He knew what she looked like, but this was different. Mulder saw the message in her eyes and kicked the door shut behind him. He moved to her overnight bag and unzipped it, reaching inside for her blue pajama top, his eyes never leaving hers; he found it by touch, something that amazed Scully. Scully shrugged out of her blouse, her hands moving to her pants as she toed off her flats. Mulder felt his mouth go dry as he took in the vision of Scully standing there. Her pants were open, the zipper lowered, revealing her silky panties. She leaned down, giving him a dizzying view of her cleavage as she hooked a finger into her knee-highs and slid them off her tiny feet. Standing, she wiggled her hips and the pants fell in a single slide to her ankles. Stepping out of them, she approached the bed, her arms going butterfly-style behind her back to release the catch on her bra. He heard the snap! It was loud, he thought. Very loud. She did something with her arms and the bra floated to the floor. Mulder tried to swallow and found that he couldn't. Scully hooked both thumbs into her panties and slid them down her legs and over her feet, standing to face her partner. His eyes never left her face. He lifted the pajama top out of the overnight bag and moved to her, opening it, lifting it over her head like a magician's cape. She slid her arms inside, and he sat on the bed, turning her to face him, his fingers adroitly closing the buttons, covering her body from his gaze. "Scully," he whispered as he felt her fingers running through his hair. "That was...incredible." "Mulder...you talk too much." He was going to retort, and had even lifted his head to show her the amusement in his eyes. She silenced him with another kiss, her hands moving to his jacket. She undressed him slowly, letting her eyes drink in his form, running her fingers over the muscles in his chest. She was careful not to touch parts of him. She knew it, and he seemed to sense it: this was a tease, nothing more. A delicious little game that they had both agreed to play without speaking. At that moment, if Mulder had moved to take her to the bed, to roll her over and slip himself inside her, Scully was sure that a word of protest would not escape her lips. But she knew, as he did, that it was not the time for that yet. Soon. But not tonight. He stood, wearing nothing but his boxers. They shared another soft, gentle kiss. They moved to the bed, each going to an opposite side. They slid the covers back and climbed in. Scully turned the light off, and the room was filled with the soft moonlight and the gentle sound of waves breaking on the shore below. They moved as one, finding the position they enjoyed the most; Scully on her side, her back to him, spooned together. His arm came around her hip again, his fingers sliding under her top to find the soft swell of her belly. "I want to apologize." Scully started, frowning in the darkness. Those had been her words on the plane, and now Mulder was- "Why?" "For not giving you what you needed, Scully." He laughed in the night, sure that she would get his next joke. "For forcing you into the arms of another man." Scully smiled, getting it. Then she turned serious. "Mulder, I was never in his arms. That's not where I wanted to be." Mulder chose not to pursue that topic. "Where did you want to be?" he asked, already anticipating the answer, but wanting to hear her say it. "Here," she whispered. "Good night, Scully," he said softly, kissing her ear. "Good night, Mulder." --------------------------------------------------------------- END CHAPTER 13