Umbra 33/?
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 33/?
Classification          : MSR, Action Adventure
Rating                  : R (Adult situations, language, themes)
Spoilers                : None

Enjoy!
------
Department of Energy
Washington, DC

        Scully stepped out of the room, away from the CBX device,
before she attempted to radio Skinner. Despite Stone's assurances that
the device was inert, she didn't want to chance setting anything off
with a stray radio transmission.
        "Three, this is two," she called on the radio. A long moment
passed with no response, and Scully was getting ready to try again
when it squelched.
        "Three," Skinner's voice came back. "Took me a second to
remember who I was." There was a pause, and then, "How did I get to be
three, anyway?"
        There was amusement in his voice, and Scully frowned. This was
not the time for levity, no matter what Skinner thought. "Sir, our
friend from the coast has reappeared."
        There was a moment, and then Skinner came back with,
"Understood. Problems?"
        "Negative. He's being cooperative for the moment. Unit One has
fixed that problem at the hotel, and we've just found our device. We
discovered that it's inert, sir. It's a...fake, or something. A
diversion."
        "Roger that. Do you think mine is, too?"
        "Affirm, sir, but of course you'll have to check for
yourself."
        "Understood. What am I looking for?"
        "According to our friend, there should be some kind of way to
remove the barrier between the intermix chambers. If there isn't any,
then the device, as far as the primary concern goes, is inert. I'd
keep checking for a secondary concern, if you know what I mean."
        Almost immediately, Skinner came back. "Understood. Where's
Unit One?"
        "Aiborne at this time to my location. When he gets here, we'll
come to you."
        "Roger that. Three out."
        "Two out," Scully called, and then switched frequencies. "Unit
Two to One," she called.
        "One...go ahead."
        "What's your ETA?"
        "About two minutes. What's your status?"
        "The device is inert, One."
        "Affirm. Good work. See you in a few."
        Scully killed the radio and wondered what Mulder was going to
want to do about Skiner. She had an idea of what Mulder would propose,
and although she didn't agree with it on many levels, she knew that
it had to be done.
        The familer whop-whop of the chopper's blades caused Scully to
look at the ceiling. "Mulder's here," she called to Stone.
        "Wonderful. I'll alert the media."

***
United States Postal Service Headquarters
Corner of D and 12th Streets
Washington, DC

        Mulder glanced down and saw that they were still about fifty
or sixty feet from touchdown. He was standing on the right skid of the
UH1-N, the MP5 still cradled in his right hand, the butt against his
ribs. His left hand held onto a rail mounted to the chopper's
bulkhead. He waited until the pilot was about five feet from the
ground and then jumped.
        "Get out of here!" he called to the pilot. The pilot nodded
and twisted the collective, dropping the nose and speeding off. With
luck, Mulder thought, no one would notice the chopper and call police
asking why a US Navy aircraft had almost landed in the middle of
metropolitian Washington, DC. It was a slim hope, but it was all
Mulder had at this point.
        He started walking towards the building and was met halfway by
Scully and Stone.
        "Good work," Mulder said to Scully, ignoring Stone.
        "It was a diversion," Stone said.
        "What?"
        "The device would never have detonated." Quickly, Stone filled
Mulder in on the intermix chamber limitations. Mulder nodded, his brow
creased thoughtfully as he absorbed the information.
        "I wonder if they are all fakes," he said. "Diversions to keep
us busy until the son of a bitch tells us where the real one is."
        "Whatever's going on, we have to get this Skinner mess
settled," Scully said.
        Mulder nodded. "Yeah...that's a problem."
        "What Skinner mess?" Stone asked.
        Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance. Scully shrugged. Mulder
scowled.
        Mulder handed Scully his MP5 and drew his sidearm in one
smooth motion. Stepping foward, he placed the barrel against Stone's
forehead.
        "What the fuck-!" Stone screamed.
        "Do I have your attention?" Mulder asked.
        Stone's gaze locked with Mulder's, and the Navy SEAL saw
something he never thought he would: The flat, dead eyes of a killer
peering out from Mulder's face.
        I underestimated him, Stone thought wildly.
        "Do I have your attention?" Mulder repeated softly.
        Stone nodded. "Undivided."
        "If I find out you are working for Graves, I will shoot you. I
don't care if I die, Stone. If you are working for that son of a
bitch, you will die." He paused, then thumbed the hammer back. "Do I
make myself clear? You have one chance to come clean, and this is it."
        "Why...what the hell did I....what the fuck is going on?"
Stone asked quickly.
        "Answer me, Stone. And be convincing. Because if I think
you're lying...I will shoot you where you stand."
        Stone looked to Scully. Her face was just as impassive as
Mulder's, and she held her own MP5 lightly in her hands, the barrel
pointing as his gut. He saw with some concern that her finger wasn't
lying alongside the trigger guard, but was inside it, curled softly
around the trigger. Four pounds of pressure and I'm a dead man, he
thought.
        "Guys..." Stone started, opening his hands. "Listen to
me...I'm on your side, I swear to God."
        "God isn't listening," Mulder said. "I am. Convince me, Stone.
Convince me that you're not working for Graves."
        "I don't know what I can say-"
        At that moment, Mulder's phone rang. Mulder didn't flinch.
        "Scully," he said softly. She reached into his pocket and
retrieved it, flipping it open.
        "Scully," she said.
        "It's Maggie. Where's Mulder?"
        "He's otherwise involved right now. What can I do for you?"
        "He asked me to have Karn run Skinner through the NCIS system.
I just heard back from the Admiral."
        Scully covered the phone. "It's King; she's got Karn's reply
about Skinner."
        Mulder turned his head slightly to the side, never letting his
eyes drift from Stone. "Talk to me," he ordered.
        "Go," Scully said into the phone.
        "Skinner's career in Marine Corps Intelligence is filled with
gaps. Most of it is marked as classified, but when Karn tried to
access the files, he hit a brick wall, even with his security
clearance."
        "Is that all?" Scully asked.
        "No...there is evidence that Skinner's alligences might be
questionable."
        "Details, Maggie. Give me details."
        "Karn has believed for a long time that there is a group
within the government, but not answerable to it, that...does things.
Things outside the control of the elected and the appointed, outside
the view and scope of the military. Karn has always called them the
Council or the Group in his private memos. He's managed to identify
some people that might be members of the group. Skinner has had
contact with some of those members." Maggie paused. "And so have you
and Mulder, Scully."
        Scully's mouth dropped open, her mind racing.
        "What?"
        "Does the name Alex Krycek mean anything to you?"
        Scully put it together in a heartbeat. "Are you telling me
that there's evidence that Skinner has had contact with the people
that Krycek works for in his capacity with Marine Corps Intelligence?"
        At the mention of his nemesis, Mulder almost tore his eyes
away from Stone's face.
        "You got it, Scully. It looks like Skinner knows the people
that Krycek used to work for."
        "Any connection between Krycek and Graves?" she asked.
        "Only the most tangential. They were both assigned at one time
or another to a common unit, but never at the same time. Something
called the 12th Signals Group. As far as I can tell, it's not a
military unit in the strictest sense. Kind of like what Phoenix was
during the Vietnam war; a psuedomilitary-intelligence unit, staffed by
military members, career intelligence officers and contractors. But
they were never there together, never at the same time. That's the
only connection that I can find."
        "Any connection between Stone and Graves?" Scully asked.
        There was a pause. "Surely you don't suspect Matt of being
part of this?" Maggie said.
        "Maggie, how can you of all people even ask me that question?
Of course I do!"
        Again Maggie paused. "Listen to me, Scully...remember those
pictures we found in Stone's apartment."
        "Could be plants," Scully pointed out. "Left there for you or
someone to find to clear him. That doesn't prove anything."
        "You know Matt," Maggie insisted. "You may not like him, and
you may not agree with his methods, but you know him. Remember that
Graves killed every single member of his GOBLIN team. Do you think
that Matt could have been a party to that? And why would he bring you
in on an investigation that would end up implicating himself?"
        "Alibi. Again, that proves nothing. He could have brought us
into this so that he'd be in the clear. Serial murderers do it all the
time, insinuating themselves into an investigation so that they know
where it's headed, so they know what the authorities know. Maggie, do
you have any evidence that links Stone and Graves, and most
importantly, any evidence that exculpates him?"
        "I'll look into it," Maggie said, "and call you back."
        Scully hung up.
        "Skinner's involved...somehow. The links are tenuous at best,
but he's in league with the smoking man," she said.
        Mulder nodded. "We knew that a long time ago, Scully."
        She sighed. "Yes, but we always thought that it was based
around his career in the Bureau, that it was related to the X-Files
and us. Maggie's uncovered evidence that Skinner has dealt with the
smoking man and his cronies in his capacity with Marine Corps
Intelligence. And...Graves and Krycek served in the same unit at
different times."
        Mulder nodded. "Makes a strange sort of sense, you know." He
sighed, lowering the gun. "My arm is killing me."
        Stone stepped back, letting out a breath he hadn't been aware
he'd been holding. "Shit, I am so <sick> of people pointing guns at me
and questioning my motives!"
        Scully and Mulder ignored him, turning their attention to each
other. As Stone watched, he saw an amazing conversation taking place
without a word being spoken. The words were body language, questions
asked with facial expressions, queries answered with shrugs and hand
motions. It took only a few seconds and then it was over.
        "Yeah," Scully finally sighed. "We have to find out for sure."
She hesitated and then giggled, a totally unexpected sound. "We must
be the only partners in the FBI that have ended up drawing down on our
boss not once, not twice, but three times."
        Mulder smiled. "Hey, Scully...I never promised you a rose
garden."
        Stone glanced around. A few passers-by had stopped and were
pointing at the three heavily armed, body-armored people standing in
front of the DOE building. Questions were bound to be asked, questions
that Stone didn't want to answer.
        "Let's get out of here," he said.
        Mulder nodded. "For once, I agree with you." The trio headed
towards the Suburban, still parked by the sidewalk. Scully'd taken
three steps when she stopped and looked around.
        "Where'd they go?" she asked the air.
        Stone stopped in his tracks. "Yeah...where <did> they go?"
        "Who?" Mulder asked.
        "The FPS agents. There were four of them, handcuffed to their
truck!"
        "No time for questions," Mulder prodded. "Let's get to the
Supreme Court. We have some questions to ask Walter S. Skinner."

***
United States Supreme Court
Constitution Avenue & 1st Street
Washington, DC

        Walter S. Skinner, Assistant Director, Federal Bureau of
Investigation, Lieutenant Colonel, USMCR, Infantry, detailed to
Military Intelligence, glanced at the device in front of him and
wondered what the <fuck> was going on.
        Just as Stone had predicted, this device was a dud. The
barrier in the intermix chamber was in place, and there was no visible
way for it to be removed. He'd carefully investigated the remainder of
the device and had discovered that there was no charge to this one,
either. No way for it to explode or do anything even remotely
dangerous, except perhaps beep or blink or something. It was a dud.
        A diversion.
        He unhooked all the electronics and closed the suitcase again,
carrying it downstairs and out the front door. The Deputy United
States Marshal who had let him into the building eyed the suitcase
warily.
        "That it?"
        "Yup."
        "What are you going to do with it?"
        "Take it to the FBI lab," Skinner said. "Tomorrow morning,
several dozen FBI agents are going to be swarming all over this place
asking questions. You might want to prepare your people for it;
there's going to be an investigation, Deputy, and whomever is
responsible for letting this thing get into the gowning room is going
to be spending a great deal of time in prison."
        The Marshal nodded. "Glad it wasn't me. Six months until
retirement...I don't need this in my life."
        Skinner's radio squelched. "Unit One to Three," Mulder's voice
called.
        "Three," Skinner said after touching his throat-mike.
        "Status?"
        "Inert, as you said. I'm on the steps in front."
        "Our ETA is about four minutes. We're turning onto
Constitution now."
        "Affirm." Odd, Skinner thought. Mulder's voice sounded
strange, tight.
        "Your ride?" the Marshal asked.
        Skinner nodded. "Yeah, two of my best agents and a NCIS
investigator."
        "Why weren't they here?"
        Skinner said, "They were working on another...device."
        The Marshal's eyes grew. "How many of them are there?"
        And at that moment Skinner knew why Mulder's voice had sounded
to strange. He remembered telling the chopper pilot that there were
six devices. And somehow, as he always did, Mulder had found out.
        Shit.

***

        The Suburan screeched to a halt and the back door opened. "Get
in!" Scully called. Skinner took a deep breath and trudged towards the
truck, carrying the suitcase.
        He got in and tossed it in the cargo compartment, slamming the
door shut behind him.
        Once the door was shut and the tinted windows kept curious
eyes from seeing inside, the weapons came out, just as Skinner knew
they would. Stone's was first, an evil-looking Glock that was pointed
directly at the bridge of his nose. Scully's piece was levelled at his
throat, and Mulder's at his left eye.
        "Talk," Mulder commanded.
        "It's not what you think," Skinner said. "Trust me."
        "As you well know," Mulder said dryly, "trust is something I
have in rather short supply these days. You'll have to do better than
that, I'm afraid."
        "It's complicated!" Skinner insisted.
        Scully felt her anger and sense of betrayal threatning to
overwhelm her. She leaned foward, catching Skinner's chin with the
front sight blade of her pistol. "Answer the question, Skinner. Are
you working with Graves?"
        "NO!"
        "Then how did you know that there are six devices?"
        Skinner hesitated.
        Scully thumbed the hammer back on her pistol, as did Mulder
and Stone.
        "Unofficial channels," Skinner finally replied.
        "Is that bastard in on this?" Mulder asked through gritted
teeth.
        "Yes, but not the way you think. He wants...wants you to
succeed," Skinner said, thinking quickly.
        "I find that hard to believe," Mulder observed. "Considering
that he's tried to kill me half a dozen times."
        "Not generally, Mulder." Not yet, anyway, he silently added.
"Just on this mission. On this mission, you and he have the same
objectives." In a roundabout way, he thought. "He wants you to stop
Graves just as much as I do."
        Mulder tilted his head. "You know, for someone that claims he
can't get ahold of that black-lunged maggot when I need him to, you
seem to be a wealth of information about his wants and needs. Care to
explain that...sir?"
        Skinner could hear the venom dripping from Mulder's voice, and
could see the same thing in Scully's eyes. Stone...Stone was just
along for the ride at this point.
        "Trust me, Mulder...this all has a purpose."
        "Which I'm sure you're going to share with us," Mulder said,
and then added, "That is...if you want to live."
        Skinner saw his life flashing before him, all the choices that
he'd made, all the sacrifices that he'd endured over the years in the
name of this and all the other 'projects' that the Guardians had
handed him.
        "I can't," he said sadly.
        "Oh yes you can," Mulder said, leaning foward, jamming his
pistol against Skinner's left eye socket. "And you will."
        "Mulder!" he shouted. "I can't!"
        Mexican stand-off, Mulder thought. He's betting that I won't
kill him. He's betting that there's some kind of loyalty left in me
towards him for all the things he had done for me over the years. All
the times he's looked the other way when I've begged him, pleaded with
him. He's betting that I don't have the capacity for cold-blooded
murder inside me.
        He's right.
        "You're lucky," Mulder said. "I don't have it in me to kill
someone that's not directly threatning my life." His eyes flicked
towards Stone, who caught the movement, glanced at Mulder and nodded.
        "Sadly," Mulder continued, "my pet Navy SEAL here doesn't feel
the same way. Do you, Mr. Stone?"
        "No, SIR," Stone said, glad to have someone in charge who knew
the effectiveness of intimidation, of fear, of the threat of direct,
personal physical violence.
        "Now, I could ask Mr. Stone here to take you away to a dark,
cool place and slowly extract the information from you a piece at a
time. I'm sure that the SEALs and the GOBLINS have taught him
very...effective ways of extracting information. Isn't that right, Mr.
Stone?"
        "That's an affirmative, SIR," Stone said, an evil light
appearing in his eyes.
        "But we don't have that sort of time, I'm afraid. Mr. Stone,
do you have a way of getting the information quickly and effectively?"
        "I'm sure I can think of something, sir," Stone said, moving a
little closer to Skinner and lowering his pistol.
        Now, Skinner thought.
        He moved faster than anyone in the car would have thought
possible. His right hand came out and found Scully's wrist, twisting
it sharply to the right, enough to cause pain, but not enough to break
it. Scully, unprepared and untrained to resist, cried out and dropped
her pistol. As he was doing that, Skinner reached with his left hand
and grabbed Mulder's wrist, repeating the action. Mulder fought the
pain for a moment and realized that if he didn't let go, Skinner was
going to break his wrist.
        Skinner lashed out with his foot, catching Stone in the gut,
and when the SEAL doubled over in pain, Skinner applied a healthy dose
of knee to Stone's nose.
        The crack! was loud in the closed confines of the suburban,
and Stone fell back, his hands moving to his face, blood streaming
from between his fingers.
        Skinner sat up, Mulder's gun in one hand and Scully's in the
other.
        "Now then," he said softly, "Let's talk."

***

        Mulder sat back, rubbing his wrist. "Is this where you shoot
us all and you and Graves walk off hand in hand into the sunset?
Because frankly, sir, Graves never really struck me as your type."
        "Shut your fucking mouth, Mulder."
        "Fuck you, SIR!"
        Skinner sighed. It was so hard to believe that this man was...
chosen.
        Skinner looked at the two pistols in his hands and then
snapped his wrists foward, catching the barrels in his palm. He held
them out to Scully and Mulder.
        "Take them," he offered.
        Stunned, both agents took back their weapons.
        "Now listen to me, the two of you. I can't tell you much,
because it is not my decision. If it were my decision, I would tell
you everything I know, which isn't much. It's a lot less than either
if you think or suspect I know. But...you are going to have to trust
me, the both of you." He paused, searching for the words, looking for
a way to tell them without actually revealing anything.
        "We're listening," Mulder said. Scully nodded, following his
lead.
        "This mission...is only one piece in a larger puzzle."
        "Which mission is that, sir?" Scully asked.
        "The entire thing. From the beginning," Skinner said softly.
"The moment you entered my office the first time Stone and Karn were
there."
        He wanted to tell them that the entire X-Files was nothing but
a piece in the larger puzzle, but dared not. The ramifications of
revealing <that> particular piece of information before it was time
had been made more than clear to Skinner, and he wasn't willing to
risk the future of the entire planet on it, not when he didn't have
to.
        "And you knew about it?"
        "Bits and pieces, yes."
        "Are all our cases like that, sir? Puzzle pieces?"
        Skinner sighed. He should have known better. "Some of them,
yes. Not all of them." Liar, he thought.
        "Who's puzzle?" Mulder asked.
        "I don't know," Skinner said. That much is true, he thought.
        "What would cause you to serve nameless, faceless masters?"
Scully asked. "I know you, sir. That's not who you are. That's not
what you're about."
        "It's complicated, Agent Scully. And I can't tell you all of
it. And if Mr. Stone here decided to try and get it out of me, he
wouldn't get anything. That is the strength <my> convictions. Just as
strong as yours or Mulder's."
        "Sir-" Scully said softly.
        Skinner's phone rang. He moved to answer it. "FREEZE!" Mulder
shouted, reaching for the phone. "I'll just get that if you don't
mind, sir."
        He opened the phone and hit SND and listened, saying nothing.
        "Skinner?" the voice hissed.
        Mulder said nothing.
        "I'm in position," the voice said again. Mulder's eyes flicked
to his bosses, calculating, his eyes narrowing.
        "Are you there, Skinner?" the voice asked again. "Dammit man!
Say something!"
        "Mr. Skinner can't come to the phone right now," Mulder said
evenly. "But I'll be happy to take a message, Graves."
        Silence.
        "Bravo," Grave said, and Mulder heard hands clapping in the
background. "I applaud you, Mr. Mulder. You are quite the adversary.
Finally, someone to challenge my talents."
        "So, you're in position, Graves. Where might that be, if I may
ask?"
        "Oh, you may ask, dear boy. And this time, I will tell you,
since there's no way in hell you'll be able to get to me or the device
in time."
        Mulder waited, saying nothing.
        "Here...listen. You may be interested in what's about to
happen next."

***
The White House
East Entrance

        The Secret Service Uniformed Division officer saw the truck
with the tinted windows approaching and frowned. Glancing down at his
clipboard, he saw that there were no scheduled visitors today.
Grabbing the clipboard, he stepped out of his shack and approached the
truck, noticing that it did have a White House parking sticker on a
magnetic placard mounted on the front bumper.
        "Welcome to the White House," he said as the window slid down.
"Can I help you?" The guard noticed that the driver was alone and that
he was talking on a cellular phone, although it was unlike any
cellular phone he'd ever seen before.
        "Good morning, officer," Danny Graves said. He handed over his
ID.
        The guard glanced at it, his eyebrows rising. He'd heard about
these passes but had never seen one. It was quite rare. Six purple
stripes ran diagnoally from the upper left corner to the lower right.
The picture was of a military officer in a Colonel of Marine Corps
uniform. The organization field identified the bearer as a member of
the National Security Council, with 24-7 access to the White House.
That much was near-normal for the White House. But the small green
triangle in the upper right corner with the number 99 was something
that the guard had never seen before.
        It meant that the bearer was entitled to enter the White House
without being searched or molested by him, by any Secret Service agent
or any other federal or military employee. It meant that his vehicle
could not be searched. Someone with a 99 clearence could smuggle a
nuclear missle into the White House, and there was nothing that the
Secret Service could do about it.
        "The Man's on vacation," the guard pointed out.
        Graves smiled. "I know. I have a package for the National
Security Advisor."
        The guard nodded. "He's in there today," he agreed. "Ok, sir,
normally I'd stop and search, but..."
        "It's all classified, I'm afraid," Graves said.
        "Understood sir. I guess you know your way around then."
        "Affirmiative, son. Have a nice day."
        "Good day, sir."
        The guard stepped back into his shack and hit the gate release
button and waved as the truck drove past him.
        Nice man, he thought.

***
Supreme Court

        "Did you get all that?" Graves asked.
        "Yeah," Mulder said, cupping the phone. "Graves just waltzed
into the White House." Scully's head snapped around, her eyes wide.
        "Thirty minutes, dear boy. And then the White House goes
boom."
        "Bullshit. All the devices were fakes. You're bluffing."
        Graves smile could be heard over the phone. "Maybe I am and
maybe I'm not. Your choice, Mulder. By the way...I'll be in the
National Security Advisor's office. You have...ooh, twenty-nine
minutes and forty-six seconds. Ta."
        The line went dead.
        Mulder twisted in his seat and keyed the ignition, barking
orders. "Stone...call Karn. Get SEAL Six spooled up. Tell them they
have twenty minutes to get to the White House. Scully, call Maggie.
Have her pull every string she can at the Secret Service. I want a
platoon of agents waiting for us at the East Entrance. Make sure she
makes it informative enough that they're scared and listening, but not
specific enough so they go looking for Graves."
        Stone was dialing when he asked, "What is Six going to do?"
        "They're going to give me the diversion I need. They always
have an alert platoon ready, right? Sixteen men?"
        "Two boat crews," Stone confirmed.
        "Fine...warm 'em up, and have 'em hold until Karn hears from
me. I want them in the air, but outside of visible and audible range
of the White House until I call. They're going to divert the Secret
Service while Scully, Skinner and I go in."
        "I'm gonig in?" Skinner asked.
        "Sure," Mulder said over his shoulder. "That way, when I kill
Graves, I won't have to walk so far to kill you, too."
----------------
END CHAPTER 33