Umbra 32/?
By Dawson E. Rambo

Author's Note : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any other
tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris Carter remain his
property and the property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television, a
unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are reserved and these characters
are used without permission. Any characters created by the author remain
his property.

Original Posting        : August 24, 1997
Archive Entry           : Umbra 32/?
Classification          : MSR, Action Adventure
Rating                  : R (Adult situations, language, themes)
Spoilers                : None

Author's Note : As many of you know, I had a 100% catastrophic disk
event last week. What this means to the technical neophytes amongst
you is that my hard drive, and all associated data (and I do mean ALL
associated data,) went the way of the dodo bird. Data heavan. Gone
forever. Zip, zero, zilch, nil, nothing left. So, I've had to
reconstruct the Umbra outline from hastily sribbled notes on legal
pads that were almost discarded four days before the disk crash. I
know the general outline of how Umbra is going to end, but if there
are any continuity errors, I beg your forgiveness and promise to fix
them before posting to the archive for eternity.

And yet more weirdness from Dawson: For those of you who REALLY
want to get into the mood of this chapter, I reccomend going out
and purchasing the soundtrack from "Con Air" and playing it as
you read. The music just about matches the pace and 'feel' of
this chapter better than anything I could have hoped for. How
do I know? I listened to the soundtrack three times through
as I wrote this chapter.


Umbra...Umbra...something to do with shadow, right? Just kidding -- we
pick up the story where we left off, with Mulder heading towards the
Watergate Hotel, Scully on her way to the Department of Energy, and
Skinner heading towards the Supreme Court.

Enjoy!
------

Washington, DC

        The smoking man studied the computer screen and frowned,
resisting the impulse to light another smoke. Things were progressing,
progressing further and faster than he'd expected. Mulder had
dispatched the Scully woman to the DOE, instead of keeping her with
him. Skinner, that insubordinate bastard, was on his way to the
Supreme Court. Mulder had done what was expected...to a point. He'd
made tough decisions, but not the kind of decisions that the smoking
man had anticipated. He'd hoped that Mulder would have decided to
sacrafice one of the three establishments in order to save one or two
of the others. And that had been the design from the start.
        Which would he chose? The Watergate was full of innocent
people, people that had no part in what was going on. Civilians, apart
from the fray, innocent. Or the DOE, with the vast amounts of
classified nuclear data, plans and designs for both nuclear weapons
and power-generating nuclear reactors. Or the Supreme Court, the
seat of justice in the country, the ultimate voice on what was allowed
and what was not according to the document that had framed this
curious country.
        Had he been a betting man, the smoker would have chosen DOE.
        But Mulder had made an even harder decision, according to his
psychological profile; he'd sent Scully out to operate on her own,
against all projections and predictions. What had happened on this
case? In the past, Mulder would have insisted that Scully stay by his
side, even going so far as to send her off on a "safe" assignment if
he wasn't able to convince her to stay with him.
        Had he figured out the game without even knowing it?
        Or had something else, something deeper, more sinister taken
place?
        The smoking man made a decision.
        He lifted the telephone and punched three numbers.
        "Control," a voice answered.
        "It's me," the smoking man said. "We have a situation."
        "I'm listening."
        "In about twenty minutes, a very heavily armed woman claiming
to be an FBI agent is going to attempt to enter the DOE building." He
paused, giving into the temptation to light another smoke.
        "What do you want us to do?" the voice asked.
        "Prevent her from doing so," the smoking man answered, and
then added, "By any means possible."
        There was a hesitation. "Do you mean-?"
        The smoking man nodded, even though he knew the other man
couldn't see him. "You have sanction authority. If she resists
attempts to prevent her entry to the building...kill her."

***
Washington, DC

        "Control to Baker six," a voice called on the radio.
        "Six," came the reply.
        "Uh...be advised, we have a report from C16 that a woman
claiming to be an FBI Agent will attempt entry to DOE in about twenty
minutes. Please respond."
        "Ten-four, Control, Six out."
        "Uh...six, come back."
        "Six."
        "Uh...six, we've been advised that the woman is to be
considered armed and dangerous, and that you are authorized to use
deadly force in preventing her entry to the building."
        "Uh...confirm that, Control?"
        "Remember Oklahoma City, six. You are cleared to use deadly
force. Gotta problem with that, six?"
        "Negative. Do we have a description of the woman?"
        Yeah, Matthew Stone thought. Redhead, about five two, five
three, and mean as a bobcat.
        Don't fuck with her, he thought. She'll kick your ass and eat
cornflakes out of your skull. Putting the car into gear, Matt Stone
pulled into traffic and headed towards the DOE, wondering where Mulder
and Skinner were.


***
Watergate Hotel

        Mulder pulled into the wide semi-circular drive in front of
the hotel and jumped out of the Suburban. Without pausing, Scully
climbed into the driver's seat and punched the gas, sending the huge
vehicle screaming out of the driveway.
        A bellboy, noticing Mulder's attire, and more than noticing
the deadly looking MP-5 the agent cradled in his hands, approached
slowly.
        "Um..may I help you?" he asked.
        "FBI," Mulder replied. "Get the head of building security down
here, now."
        "It's Sunday," the bellboy protested. "Mr. Sanchez isn't here
today."
        "Who's in charge of security in his absence?"
        "Miss Griswold...but-"
        "But what?"
        "She's at breakfast. She's not here."
        "Damn!" Mulder muttered. "Ok, listen up, and listen very
carefully. We have a situation here. There's a small device that I'm
looking for, and if I don't find it in the next..." He checked his
watch and grimaced. "...six minutes, a lot of people are going to
die."
        The bellboy gulped.
        "I'm just summer help," he protested. "I go to Georgetown, and
I...I...don't..."
        Mulder patted him on the shoulder. "It's ok. I'm sure they
never told you what to do in this kind of situation. What I need you
to do is find the highest-ranking member of the staff you can and have
them join me at the front desk right away. Try and get as many people
out of the lobby as you can without attracting attention."
        "How-?"
        Mulder thought about it. "Announce a free breakfast on the
other side of the hotel or something -- just get them out of there.
Gas leak. Anything. Be inventive...but be convincing."
        The bellboy nodded and ran off. Mulder took a quick glance
around, trying to orient himself. A series of steps led up and into
the hotel's foyer. He glanced up; twenty-four stories of hotel, about
sixty rooms to a floor. He grimaced; it could be almost anywhere...
        Then he had a thought.
        Running into the hotel, he found a desk clerk talking
excitedly into a phone.
        "That's right!" she was saying. "The FBI! A bomb!"
        "Excuse me?" Mulder said. She waved at him with an arm,
twisting her body so she could listen to whomever was shouting over
the phone.
        "I don't know!" she insisted. "Billy just told me that an FBI
agent had-"
        "EXCUSE ME!" Mulder said, pointing to his body armor.
        She noticed who he was and pulled the phone from her ear. "Are
you the FBI Agent?" she asked.
        Mulder thought about a typical snide reply, and immediately
discarded it.
        "Yes," he said, "Mulder. FBI."
        "Here," the woman said, holding out the phone. "My boss wants
to talk to you."
        Mulder took the phone and spoke as rapidly as possible.
"Sorry. Can't talk now. Bomb. Goodbye." He hung the phone up and
turned to the clerk.
        "Dumb question," he started. "Do you have a package for a Fox
Mulder?"

***
Aboard Park Air 1

        "Supreme Court...and step on it," Skinner ordered. The pilot
nodded, changed course and added some speed. The chopper sped across
the Metro DC area, the scenery whizzing by in a blur.
        "What the hell is going on?" the pilot shouted above the noise
of the engine.
        "Bombs. Six of 'em," Skinner replied.
        The pilot nodded and gritted his teeth, adding as much power
as he dared.

***
Department of Energy

        Scully brought the Suburban to a halt by the front entrance of
the DOE building, jumping out before the transmission had time to
unspool into park, carrying the MP5 at port arms. She'd taken two
steps when the voice called out to her.
        "HALT!"
        She turned and saw four very heavily armed and armored Federal
Protective Service officers swarming towards her, their own CAR-15's
levelled at her chest.
        "FBI!" she called.
        "Drop the weapon!" one of them ordered, bringing the CAR-15
to his shoulder. She saw his finger slid from the frame into the
trigger guard.
        The MP-5 hit the ground with a harsh metallic clatter.
        "FBI!" Scully insisted. "There's no time-"
        That was all Scully had a chance to say. Two of the other FPS
officers jumped her, twisting her body to the ground. She felt first
one arm, and then the other twisted behind her back. She felt the cold
metallic clasp of the handcuffs closing around her wrists, faster than
she would have thought possible.
        "But-" Scully started.
        "You are under arrest," one of the FPS agents said. "You have
the right to remain-"
        "I know my DAMN RIGHTS!" Scully screamed. "Call the Hoover
building! Ask for AD Skinner's office!"
        All calls to Skinner's office were rerouted, she knew,
directly to Maggie King's home.
        "Tell it to the judge," the other FPS agent muttered, lifting
her to her feet.
        "FREEZE!"
        The four FPS cops froze, turning to the sound of the voice,
bringing Scully with them.
        Scully snorted. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever
thought that she would be glad to see Commander Matthew Stone, USN,
standing on the sidewalk with a very nasty Uzi SMG levelled at the
four officers.
        "Drop your weapons," Stone ordered. "And then uncuff her."
        Grumbling, the FPS officers dropped their weapons and did as
Stone had ordered. Scully gathered the CAR-15's together and
approached Stone. "What the hell are you doing here?" she demaned.
        He gave her an eyebrow. "Not happy to see me? I could have let
those nice gentlemen do their job, you know."
        She nodded. "I'm not ungrateful. But you are off this case,
and you know it."
        He turned to her, careful to keep the Uzi pointed at the four
FPS officers. "Listen to me, Scully. You couldn't take me off this
case any less than you could prevent the sun from rising today. You
have two choices -- you either include me in your little party, or
I'll turn you back over to them and do it myself. Your choice."
        Scully nodded. "Ok, fine. Whatever. But I am in command here,
Stone. You do what I say, when I say it, or I <will> take you out."
        He nodded. He had little doubt that she was both capable and
prepared to execute that particular threat.
        "Cuff 'em," he said, nodding towards the FPS officers.

***
Washington, DC

        The smoking man frowned. He'd heard the radio call when Scully
had pulled up, and then nothing for close to ten minutes.
        Surely one woman hadn't taken down four of his best men?
        He lifted the phone. "Report," he ordered.
        A moment later, there was a squawk, and the radio squelched
on. "Control to Baker Six."
        Long pause.
        "Six," came the reply.
        The smoking man sat upright, shock written over his lined,
craggy face. He knew that voice!
        "Status report."
        "Suspect in custody. Code four."
        The smoking man frowned. He knew that voice, but couldn't
place it.
        "Ah...ten four, six. ETA to the house?"
        "Ah, we've got some DC police on the scene making trouble,
bitching about jurisdiction -- give is a few, Control."
        "Roger that. Need a supervisor to come down?"
        "Negative, we have it in hand. Six out."
        The smoking man sat back, lost in thought. Who was that voice?

***
Watergate Hotel

        "Why...yes, yes we do," the clerk stuttered. "It's in the
back. Should I-"
        "No! I'll get it!" Mulder said. "Just show me where it is."
        The desk clerk led him back into the office, and then through
a small door into what looked like a vualt. There were bank-quality
safety-deposit boxes, and a waist-high floor safe. "It's in the safe,"
she said, pointing.
        "Open it," Mulder ordered. The clerk nodded nervously and bent
to the safe, quickly working the lock.
        "There," she said, standing back. "It's unlocked."
        Mulder nodded and moved next to her, reaching out and opening
the door. There was the device, waiting inside an aircraft-metal
briefcase. Lifting it out, he gently laid it on top of the safe and
opened it.
        The laptop was there. He flipped the screen up.
        02:34, it said. Just over two minutes.
        Password, he thought. Password. Watergate hotel. Dick Nixon.
Truth. Lies. Tapes. Missing minutes. The beginnings of America's
distrust towards it's leaders. Vietnam. He wracked his brain, looking
for a password that made sense to his mind.
        01:50, the monitor chided.
        China? No, too obtuse. Nothing to do with what was going on.
        What was Nixon's problem? He lied. About everything. About
Watergate, about Vietnam, about Laos.
        Gritting his teeth, Mulder leaned foward and typed TRUTH and
then hit ENTER.
        The clock stopped at 01:02.
        He turned to find the desk clerk peering in from the doorway.
        "Is it...off?" she asked.
        "Disarmed...yes," Mulder replied.
        She ran into his arms, sobbing. "Oh, thank you! Thank you!"
Mulder pushed her away and looked at, a sudden fear running through
him. She was overreacting completely.
        "Liberty Bell," he said, and saw the change in her eyes. She
was one of them, she was a Graves operative. He spun her around
instantly, pushing her up against the wall, kicking her legs apart.
"You're under arrest," he said slowly, reading her the Miranda
warning.
        "You'll never stop him!" she hissed. "He's a genius!"
        "Right, sure. Genius. Whatever," Mulder said distractedly. He
reached down and toggled the push-to-talk button on his radio,
speaking through his throat mike.
        "Unit One to Unit Two...come in."
        No response. He looked down and checked. The radio was on. He
hit the transmit button again, and the small red light on the radio
glowed. It was transmitting...why-?
        Of course. He was in what amounted to a vault. It was probably
sheielded or something. Reaching into one of his thigh pockets, Mulder
found a pair of white flexi-cuffs and quickly applied them.
        Guiding the clerk out of the vault, he waited until he was
outside the vault before transmitting.
        "Unit One to Unit Two..."
        A moment later, a breathless Scully came back. "Two, go
ahead, partner."
        "Watergate is secure. How are you doing?"
        "We're still searching."
        We're? Mulder thought. Who the hell is "we?"
        "Scully...?"
        "Our friend from the coast showed up, Mulder."
        Mulder swore loudly before responding. "Is he giving you any
trouble?" he asked.
        There was a pause, and when Scully retransmitted, it sounded
as if she were...smiling.
        "Negative on that, Mulder. As a matter of fact, he got me out
of a pretty sticky situation. Someone's onto us, someone aside from
this Graves nonsense. When I showed up at DOE, there were some Federal
Protective Service types waiting for me, but they were unlike any FSP
officer's I've ever met. They arrested me, or at least they tried to.
Matt showed up and...convinced them to let me go. We have only a few
more minutes before they figure out that it was Matt who answered
their radio message a while back." She paused, releasing the transmit
button in case Mulder wanted to say something.
        Unlike the movies, you can't have a two-way conversation over
the radio.
        Mulder was fighting the mixed emotions that were moving
through his mind; on the one hand, he was very glad that Stone had
been there to save Scully's bacon. On the other, he was fighting a
tremendous amount of jealousy over the fact that she was calling him
"Matt" again.
        "Ok...have you heard from Unit Three?"
        "Negative."
        "I think I'm too far away...why don't you give him a call?"

***
Department of Energy
3rd Floor

        They'd searched the first two floors quickly, hoping against
hope to stumble across the damn thing. Scully glanced at her watch and
realized they had about nine more minutes before the device was set to
go off. She motioned with her hand to Stone. "Go ahead...I need to get
a hold of Skinner."
        Stone nodded and moved down the hall, a CAR-15 he'd liberated
from the FPS men in his hands.
        "Unit Two to Unit Three...."
        No response.
        "Unit Two to Unit Three...Come back."
        After a very long moment, the radio squawked back.
        "Uh...hello?"

***
Aboard Park Air 1
Supreme Court of the United States
Parking Lot

        The pilot of Air 1 held Skinner's radio in his hand. It had
started making noise only seconds after the muscular, balding man
who'd identified himself as an FBI agent had departed the chopper for
the Supreme Court.
        "Identify yourself," a female voice on the radio commanded.
        "Scott Ryan," the pilot replied, and then added, "I'm the
pilot of the helicopter."
        There was a pause. "Where's your passenger?"
        "He just went into the building to look for...a bomb, I
guess."
        "Very well."
        Scott hesitated and decided to risk it. "Did you get all of
them? All six, I mean?"

***
Department of Energy
3rd Floor

        Six? Scully thought. A sudden dread filled her.
        "Scott, this is Special Agent Dana Scully with the Federal
Bureau of Investigation. I have an extremely serious question to ask
you, and I need you to be absolutely sure of your answer."
        There was a pause, and then a tenative, "Go ahead."
        "Did Mr. Skinner recieve a telephone call while he was aboard
your helicopter?"
        "Come again?"
        "Skinner has a satellite cellular phone with him. Did he use
it at any time while in your presence?"
        "Negative."
        Scully thought about it. "Did he say that there were six
bombs, for sure?"
        "Yes, he said 'bombs. Six of 'em.'"
        Scully chewed on her lip. Unless Graves had called Skinner
while he was on the ground in Arlington, while he'd been out of the
pilot's line of sight...
        "When you were at Arlington, was there any time that you
didn't have Skinner in your sight?"
        "Yeah, for about six minutes."
        Time enough, Scully thought. "Ten four, thank you Air 1.
Scully out."
        She opened her satphone and dialed Mulder's number quickly.

***
Watergate Hotel

        Mulder was talking to a captain of the DC Police department
when his satphone rang.
        "Mulder."
        "We have a problem," Scully said. Turning and walking away
from the DC cop, Mulder frowned.
        "Talk to me."
        "Skinner may be in on it." Mulder stopped dead in his tracks.
        "Come again?"
        Quickly, Scully explained that Skinner had said there were six
bombs when in reality they were only aware of five. "But the pilot
didn't have Skinner in his sight for about six or seven minutes when
he was on the ground at Arlington."
        Mulder nodded. It was possible that Graves had called during
that time. But if he had, why hadn't Skinner mentioned it?
        "Scully...find your bomb and call me back when it's over."
        "Ok...any idea what the password for this one is?"
        Mulder chewed it over. "No...not yet. Call me back when you
find it. I'll think about it. But be prepared to disarm it."
        "Roger that," Scully replied, and then added, "Watch your ass,
Mulder. It's a nice one. I'd hate to lose it." And then she was gone.
        Mulder keyed the radio. "Unit One to Base..."
        "Go, One."
        "Any news on the chopper?"
        "I called Karn. A Navy Bell UH1-N should be there within five
minutes."
        Mulder twisted his head. He heard the far off whop-whop of the
blades. "That's an affirm; I hear it coming now. Good work, Maggie. Do
me a favor, though. Call Karn back and ask...stand by. I'm going to
call you."
        Mulder switched to the satphone and dialed Maggie's home
number. She answered after half a ring. "Hello."
        "It's me. Do me a favor. Call Karn and ask him to run Walter
Skinner through their intel computer. I want anything and everything.
Have him fax it to you. Radio me when you have the information, and
use the phrase 'parcel.' Just tell me you have the information on the
parcel, ok? Then I'll find a quiet place and call you."
        "You think he's in on it?" she asked.
        "Pays to be safe," Mulder replied.
        King asked, "Should I run Scully?"
        Mulder didn't even blink. "Of course not. I trust her
implicitly. There is no way she's involved in this."
        "Ok, Mulder...you got it."

***
Home of Vice Admiral Jake Karn

        "You want me to WHAT?" he asked.
        "You heard me," Commander Maggie King replied. "Mulder was
very specific. Can you help us out?"
        Karn sighed. He'd known this day was coming.
        After all, he was a Guardian, too.
        "Of course. Give me your fax number."
***
Aboard US Navy Bell UH1-N Tail Number N934882

        "Where to?" the pilot asked.
        "Department of Energy. Put me down right in front."
        The pilot twisted in his seat, an incredulous look on his
face. "Are you insane? That's a public thoroughfare!"
        "I know. But we have no choice and less time. Go!"
        The pilot shrugged and twisted the collective pitch control;
his orders had been specific. Pick up an FBI Agent at the Watergate
Hotel and transport him wherever he wants to go, no questions asked.
When you got an order from a 3-star Admiral, you did as you were asked
and forgot about questions until it was all over.

***
Department of Energy
3rd Floor

        "Found it!" Stone radioed to Scully.
        "Location," she replied.
        "End of the hall, last door on the left. The director's
assistant's office."
        Scully moved to where Stone was, her mind running a thousand
miles an hour. As if they needed this, wondering if Skinner was
somehow involved. Knowing Mulder, he was working on discovering the
truth in the middle of all this. His ability to do such things never
ceased to amaze her.
        She found Stone in the office, standing over an aircraft-metal
briefcase, a matte-black construction that looked stealthy and deadly
on the desk.
        "Any idea about the password?" she asked.
        "None. Any ideas?"
        "Well, Mulder figured out the password on three others...I'll
give him a call."
        Stone turned to face her. "How many of these damn things are
there?"
        She shrugged. "Five that we know about."
        "What is this?"
        "Four."
        "Where's the fifth?"
        "Supreme Court. That's where Skinner is. Mulder just finished
one at the Watergate. If I know him, he's on his way here."
        Stone nodded. "Call him." He frowned. "How did he figure them
out?"
        "Somehow, these are all connected to him. For some strange
reason, Graves is using Mulder's history as a basis for all the
passwords."
        Stone's expression changed and Scully took a moment to
decipher it. She was amazed to see...jealousy?
        "Matt? Are you...jealous?"
        "No, no. Of course not. That's insane. It's just..."
        Scully suddenely understood. "You've been chasing him for
fifteen years, and he decides to use Mulder during the endgame."
        Stone nodded. "Pathetic, huh?"
        "And totally human." She reached for her cellphone and dialed.
        "Mulder!" She could barely hear him over the noise of the
helicopter engine.
        "Mulder! Scully! We found it! I need a password!"
        Long pause. "Beats the shit out of me, Scully! Try for a
manual disarm!"
        She cupped the phone. "He says we should try for a manual
disarm. How much time?"
        Stone lifted the laptop screen. "Just over four minutes."
        "Can you do it?"
        "I'll sure as hell try," he replied, frowning.
        "Stone's going to try," Scully said into the phone. "Where are
you?"
        "Enroute to your location. ETA is about seven
minutes...Scully, get the hell out of there."
        Shocked, Scully responded immediately. "Never! Mulder, how
could you even-"
        "Sorry," he said. "Automatic response. I'm...I'll be there
shortly. Good luck."
        "Thanks, Mulder."
        "Scully?"
        "What?"
        "Watch your ass. It's a pretty nice one, too."
        She smiled and hung up, moving to Stone's side to check his
progress. He had the laptop seperated from the rest of the device. He
glanced at the laptop, then at the complicated innards of the device,
back at the laptop, and froze.
        "What the fuck?" he asked.
        "What?"
        "This is a CBX device, right?"
        "So we've been told...why?"
        "Gimme a minute." Stone reached inside a pocket and came back
with a small screwdriver. He poked around inside the device, making
Scully incredibly nervous.
        "Uh...Matt..."
        "SEALs trained me in EOD," he said softly. "I know what the
hell I'm doing."
        "Glad to hear it. What the hell are you-"
        "I said to give me a minute!"
        Scully glanced at the laptop's screen. "You have three of
them. Use them wisely."
        Stone muttered something under his breath.

***
Washington, DC
Undisclosed location

        The smoking man frowned as the report came in. Control
reported that a passing DC police car had found his four operatives
flexi-cuffed togeter and then cuffed to the door handle of their
Expedition, all of them disarmed. They'd reported nothing to the DC
cops, claiming that it was a prank of some sort. The DC cops weren't
buying it, and the situation was rapidly careening out of control. The
DC police had discovered the Suburban driven by Scully and had quickly
traced it to the Secret Service, who were reporting that it had been
"leant" to a Walter Skinner, Assistant Director, Federal Bureau of
Investigation.
        Which meant that both the Secret Service and the Metro DC
Police were now involved.
        Not good.
        The smoking man lifted the telephone.
        "Graves."
        "It's me. We have complications. Things are not going
according to plan, and I've had to make some decisions that have
regretfully only made the situation worse."
        "What do you want me to do?"
        "We need to escalate things a bit. What is your status?"
        "I'm approaching the White House now."
        "Very well. Please call me when you're next to the device.
After that, contact Director Skinner and give him the good news."
        "What good news?"
        "That you are going to vaporize the White House and there is
nothing that he can do about it."
        "I am?"
        "Yes," the smoking man grinned. "You are."

***
Department of Energy
3rd Floor Director's Office

        "I don't fucking believe it!" Stone whispered.
        "What?"
        "See this?" Stone pointed. Scully leaned in and peered to
where Stone was pointing with the small screwdriver.
        "What am I looking at?"
        "An inert device."
        "Inert? As in...won't go off?"
        "Correct. See, the barrier between the intermix chambers
doesn't have any way to...be removed. Normally, there's an electrical
selnoid, something to remove the barrier so the electronic pumps can
force both pairs of the binaries into the intermix chamber. Even if
this clock reaches zero, this thing won't detonate." He straightened.
"It's a fake..."
        "Diversion?"
        Stone cocked his head, thinking about it. "Maybe. But we can't
take a chance. Radio Skinner; tell him to look for the barrier between
the intermix chambers. If it's like this one, he can ignore it and we
can move onto other issues."
        Scully nodded. She had a few "other issues" she wanted to
discuss with Skinner herself.
--------------
END CHAPTER 32