DISCLAIMER- Mulder, Scully, Skinner and anything else even slightly X-files 
related belongs to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and FOX. John Clark 
and Ding Chavez and all associated characters belong to Tom Clancy and Jack Ryan 
Enterprises. JAG and all related characters belong to Bellisarius Productions. 
The Aliens belong to Twentieth Century FOX and Ridley Scott. Quiddis, Meyers, 
Soun, Paddy and Captain O'Byrn belong to Sean Smith, the author of "Etched". 
Point is, none of them belong to me. I'm only borrowing them for a story 
entirely in the interests of entertainment. I'm not making any money and can't, 
in fact. I don't even want to. So don't sue, please.

AUTHOR'S PLEA FOR FORGIVENESS: This story is an UNOFFICIAL sequel, meaning I 
don't have the permission of the author of "Etched". I'm very, very sorry. I 
really liked the story and tried to e-mail you to tell you so and suggest the 
possibility of me writing a sequel, but your e-mail address seems to be faulty. 
Or maybe it's my server. But anyway, if you don't like the story, just tell me 
so and I'll have it pulled. The address is briandubic@aol.com
AUTHOR'S NOTE: If anyone ever figured out why it's called "Etched", I'd 
appreciate it if they'd tell me. I'm used to vague title origins (Dean Koontz is 
big on them), but I'm not sure the word Etched was ever used. Let me know if you 
figured it out. Address is briandubic@aol.com. 

Remember, Comments to "briandubic@aol.com"  And feel free to archive this story 
wherever you like, just keep disclaimer, ect., attached. And if I invent any 
characters, feel free to use them. Just don't disgrace them, and I'd like it if 
you told me first.

*        *        *
Etched II- Etches
By Brian Dubick

Previously, on the "X-Files"

Mulder, Scully and a SEAL team investigate an oil rig that's lost contact with 
the mainland and may have picked up a falling space object. The possibility of a 
deadly virus is considered and prepared for. But instead of a virus, their enemy 
is much larger. Aliens, from right out of the movies "Alien" and "Aliens". After 
a series of bloody battles; in which Scully proves to be a good shot with an 
assault rifle, and Mulder winds up wandering unarmed, injured and alone in the 
Alien nest (killing Aliens with staple guns and Molotov cocktails); they're 
rescued and escape as the rig burns behind them. Only the Agents and four SEALs 
made it. But, right at the end, we learn one of the Aliens may have survived....

Prologue
AN ISLAND 50 MILES FROM OIL RIG 43
        The hissing, black shape moved it's limping, almost insectoid body. It 
could hear them, smell them, sense their movement. Humans, though it had no word 
for the species. The creature was badly wounded, in no condition to attack them 
while strong and armed, but it could surprise these people and drag one off 
before they could retaliate.
        It had brought with it several eggs, from which the little ones would 
hatch. The ones humans called face-huggers, though it didn't know that either. 
They would plant the embryos in the humans where they would grow and become 
adults, like itself.
        It watched the humans. Soon. Soon. The male and the female walked close 
together. Grab both at once? No. Too weak. Grab one. Which one? It didn't know. 
But it's mind was too primitive for thought on the subject, it went for the 
closest. The female.
        They never saw it coming. There was a rustling and an almost asthmatic 
wheeze. They turned to look, but it was already there. She barely had time to 
scream before it grabbed her and continued it's run. He tried to stop it, but it 
merely lashed out with it's tail, knocking him unconscious.
        It took her back to the makeshift nest, where the eggs were. It cocooned 
her, and then went back for the male. He was also cocooned. It was a few hours 
later when the eggs split open, almost flower-like. The face-huggers emerged, 
spider-like, but also like human hands, but the fingers were too long, and there 
were eight of them. Where the wrist would be, there was a whipping tail. It 
wrapped this around the neck of the victim while it closed it's fingers over the 
head.
        And it was done.
        The creature which had brought the eggs and captured the people laid 
down to die of it's wounds. It's work was done. It had been months since the 
destruction of the last nest, but it's species was ready to grow strong again.
        A pity it had so little intelligence, and could not comprehend, with a 
sense of either pride or horror, that it had put an entire world in jeopardy....

Chapter 1
FBI HEADQUARTERS
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
BASEMENT LEVEL

        Mulder had to face it. He was cursed.
        Or perhaps it was better to say he was a curse. A curse on other people.
        Look at his life. He was born. His sister was abducted by aliens and 
disappeared forever. His family fell apart. Jump twenty years into the future. 
His father is murdered. Mulder finds the killer three times, and he escapes each 
time. His mother has a stroke. At the same time, he learns that his mother may 
have been cheating, and his real father may be Cancer Man, his own worst 
adversary.
        And then there was Scully. Before she met him, she was an energetic 
young agent and doctor with a bright future. Then she was assigned to work with 
him. Her popularity and social life declined, for one thing. But that was 
nothing. She'd been shot at, beaten, kidnapped, and nearly had her liver ripped 
out by a psychotic mutant. And that was still just the minor, everyday stuff. 
She'd been abducted and disappeared for three months. And now they'd discovered 
that she had gotten cancer out of it. And it was his fault, despite what anyone 
said.
        He was still musing on how big of a curse he was when Scully stuck her 
head in the door. "Mulder? Jamison case is going down. You coming?"
        Mulder shook his head and stood up. "Yeah. Wouldn't want to miss how 
this turns out." He headed towards the door. "Are you? I'm not sure they make 
SWAT gear in 'petite.'" That comment earned him a classic Scully I'm-not-taking-
any-crap-today look. He'd been hoping she'd crack a smile.
*  *  *
ABANDONED WAREHOUSE
NIGHT

        The Jamison case was the kind of case that Scully wished they'd get more 
often. They'd been investigating some strange sightings not far from Washington. 
But instead of alien spacecraft, the UFOs turned out to be drug smugglers trying 
to use bright lights and sonic wave emitters attached to their helicopters to 
keep anyone from looking too closely.
        Unfortunately, the idea had already been done. A group of smugglers had 
pulled a similar but more elaborate stunt, but been uncovered and put out of 
commission by Navy JAG officers. (Note to readers: See "Sightings", first season 
episode of "JAG")
        So Mulder and Scully had set up a sting. A trio of local Narc detectives 
would show up, pretending to be buyers. Meanwhile, Mulder, Scully and the SWAT 
team were standing by to make the bust.
        The deal was being done in front of a warehouse in the middle of 
nowhere. Snipers were hidden in the surrounding hills, and a van-load of SWAT 
close range fighters were standing by.
        Up in the hills, Scully gripped the stock of a .50 caliber sniper rifle. 
Her eye was pressed up against the scope, watching for any sign that the 
suspects might harm the undercover cops. Laying next to her was Mulder, gripping 
an M-16. He was her spotter, protection if the bad guys got in close.
        They didn't commonly work as snipers, although they'd gone in with or 
behind SWAT whenever the Special Weapons Assault Team was called in on one of 
their cases. But it was something they'd been doing more often since their 
"incident" a few months ago on Exxon Oil Rig 43. Besides, the local SWAT was 
annoyingly short-handed due to another of those "blue flu" sick outs.
        A medium-sized  passenger car pulled up. Scully checked them out through 
the scope. Undercover Narc cops. She reached for her mike to radio in 
confirmation. "Sniper Two to Base. Our buyers have arrived."
        "Copy. Stand by."
        It was ten minutes later when another car pulled up. Three people got 
out. "Sniper Two to Base. Three suspects just pulled up."
        "Copy. Stand by. At the slightest threat, open fire."
        Scully focused on the shapes below her, hundreds of yards away. She was 
so focused that she didn't hear the twig snap behind her.
        Mulder did. He spun around, rifle up. Scully noticed the movement and 
turned in time to see a figure in dark clothing burst out from behind a tree, 
firing an AK-47. Mulder fired back and the charging figure fell to the ground.
        Sounds of a similar gunfight, only punctuated by three pistol shots, 
could be heard from the other sniper post.
        Down in the warehouse parking lot, the men who had been arranging a deal 
suddenly stopped and listened. The suspects reacted first, two pulled out 
pistols and one an Uzi. They covered the undercover cops who did their best to 
look like they didn't know what was going on.
        The suspects weren't buying it. Back in the SWAT van, the mikes hidden 
on each cop picked up the lead suspect saying, "I had a feeling this was a set 
up..."
        Scully didn't hear it, but she spotted the drawn weapons and figured the 
sting was blown. She picked her targets. Two of the perps seemed to be lined up. 
With a .50 cal, she might be able to pull it off. Her finger tightened on the 
trigger.
        Two of the suspect's heads exploded in a red burst. The third turned to 
stare in shock, and the cops jumped him. They went down in a tangle of limbs.
        Mulder figured they'd won and stood up to yell "YES!"
        But midway through, he spotted something in one of the warehouse 
windows. A bit of movement, a glint of light like the kind reflected of a 
gunsight.
        The reaction was instantaneous. He dove to the ground. He was halfway 
there when he felt a bullet thud into his back. //I guess they had a sniper of 
their own.//
        He landed with a crash on top of Scully. She had two thoughts going 
through her head. The first was, //Damn, Mulder's heavy.// The second was, 
//I've got to get him off me so I can get my rifle and nail that asshole!// The 
latter was punctuated by a small explosion from a bullet hitting next to her.
        Then there was a pair of muffled shots and the sniper in the window went 
down.
        Scully rolled her wounded partner off of her and keyed her radio. 
"Sniper Two to Sniper One. Thank you." Scully turned to Mulder. "How are you 
doing?"
        "I'm fine," said Mulder, shrugging off the bulletproof vest, "Except for 
some sore ribs. Talk god for kevlar, eh?" Mulder shot her a grin while rubbing 
his bruised back. "You've probably shot me worse."
        "All units, this is Base. Check in."
        Scully keyed her radio again. "Sniper Two OK."
        Mulder keyed his own radio. "Fine and dandy, if you don't count getting 
shot."
        "We'll get ambulance."
        "No, no," said Mulder quickly. "I'm fine. Hit me in the vest."
        "Sniper One here. My spotter's hit bad. Better get that ambulance after 
all."
        Mulder looked over at Scully. "Better get over there, *Doctor* Scully."
        She was already on her feet and running.
*        *        *
THE ISLAND
        It had begun. The creatures had hatched, bursting out of their victim's 
chests with bloody force. One, the Queen, grew larger than the man-sized worker. 
As it grew, it laid it's eggs, one, two, ten, twenty. The worker brought in the 
first host. A drunk caught wandering too far from the village. He was cocooned 
to the wall of the cave that had become their nest. The drunk was too 
intoxicated to even scream as the face hugger hatched from it's ovoid pod and 
closed it's finger-like legs on his face.

Chapter 2
FBI HEADQUARTERS
SKINNER'S OFFICE
TWO DAYS LATER
        Mulder and Scully sat in the mildly comfortable seats and watched as 
Assistant Director Walter Skinner read through the case report, both feeling 
that nervousness you get when the boss is checking your work.
        Skinner glanced up. "The report looks complete. Good work to both of 
you. May I ask the condition of the wounded officer?"
        "Stable, last I heard," said Scully. The kevlar vest had saved the 
unfortunate SWAT spotter's life, but hadn't protected him from injury when the 
7.62 millimeter rounds had crashed into his torso.
        "Good. And the captured suspect?"
        "Singing like a canary," said Mulder.
        "Seems like this case is a clean wrap-up. A welcome break for your usual 
work." Skinner closed the folder. "Well, dismissed."
        The Agents filed out quickly.
        "What do you suppose he meant by that?" Mulder asked Scully in the 
elevator.
        "He's probably just sick of all those unexplainable cases we keep 
getting and sending to him unfinished."
        "Hey," said Mulder, "It's not our fault the Mexican brothers with the 
alien fungus got away."
        "Of course," said Scully, "He's probably also sick of cases where the 
answer is so far out there that there's no way in hell he'd ever get *his* 
superiors to buy it."
        "That too."
        The elevator dinged and the door opened at the basement level. The two 
agents exited and headed to their cramped office.
        "So," said Mulder, "What was your take on this case?"
        "To tell you the truth, I wished we'd get more of these. Very straight-
forward. We investigated, exposed the hoax, solved it and caught some drug 
dealers."
        "Yeah," said Mulder, "And it's satisfying to get the truth and take down 
some crooks. But it was kind of a waste of our time. I mean, we've got 
conspiracies to crack. Who wants to waste time with hoaxes?" Mulder pulled his 
keys out of his pocket and fitted the office key into the lock. It turned with a 
slight squeak. //Time to get it oiled... again.//
        "Mulder," Scully said, "You can take the joy out of anything."
        "I try." Mulder shot her his trademark grin.
        I looked like the start of another uneventful office day. That was fine 
by them, the paperwork from the last five cases was getting excruciating. And he 
still hadn't completed the forms for his replacement sidearm, after leaving his 
last one in a pile of acidic alien blood. The memory of their little trip to Rig 
43 made his hand ache. //I never did manage to get one of those corpses. Just 
another alien encounter I can't prove.//
        He absentmindedly booted up his computer as he glanced over the blank 
spaces on the form. //Cause of destruction of firearm? I'll just say "acid". 
Witnesses to loss of firearm? An entire team of Navy SEALs. No, wait, that was 
after the team split up, and most of them are dead. I'll just say Lt. Quiddis.// 
As he wrote, he logged onto the Internet with his free hand. //Location of loss 
of firearm? Exxon Oil Rig 43. Not that they'd ever find it.// Mulder was 
interrupted by a prissy computer voice saying, "You've got mail." //Reason for 
loss of firearm? Knocked from my hand by ricocheting bullet.// He'd lost enough 
firearms that he wished the armory would just send him the replacement and lent 
him send in the paperwork afterwards. You never knew when you'd need one on 
short notice.
        "Mulder?"
        He looked up at his partner. "What?"
        "Who was it?" Scully asked.
        "Who was what?"
        "Your e-mail."
        Mulder glanced down at the computer screen. he'd completely forgotten 
about that. He clicked "Read Mail." It was from the Lone Gunmen, his favorite 
hacker/sources.
        "Mulder. Check the secure account. L. G. Men. P.S. Fonhike sends love to 
lovely partner."
        The last almost made him laugh outloud. Fronhike's infatuation with 
Scully was almost a running joke between Mulder and the other two Gunmen. Also, 
the initials could be mistaken for "little green men," which would throw off 
anyone snooping around.
        //E-mail from the Gunmen. Something must be up.// Mulder logged off that 
account and logged onto his secure account. It'd be harder than hell to trace 
back to him, since it was in the name David Barry. Screen name: Skullster. 
That'd throw them off even further by making them think it was Scully's.
        The message he found when he logged on left him with a deep sinking 
feeling in his stomach.
        "Spooky." (They liked to tease him with the FBI nickname over e-mail.) 
"A sparsely inhabited island in the Caribbean sent off a series of distress 
calls, first about an illness and missing persons, then about an animal attack. 
Last communication said they were under attack, but was cut off. No contact 
since. There were plans to build a base there in the sixties, but they were 
abandoned, along with what was already built. A passing satellite caught these 
shots. The island isn't that far from that oil rig you blew up a while back. 
Think it's related? Langley."
        There were pictures attached. Mulder downloaded the first one, and his 
blood ran cold. "Scully, you'd better take a look at this."
        She came over to see. It was a scene of a village, but it looked like a 
war zone. Several of the houses were in flames. Human silhouettes were seen 
running and firing weapons which looked like shotguns and rifles.
        Their opponents were a group of chillingly familiar armored shapes....

Chapter 3
THE ISLAND
HOURS EARLIER
        Not only had the Aliens, for that was what they were, captured people 
and brought them back to the nest to be implanted, they'd also let several of 
the face huggers loose to attack people in their sleep.
        They attacked in force during the night. Several people were grabbed or 
killed before they could react. One stabbed an Alien with a carving knife, only 
to get a face full of it's acidic blood.
        Suddenly people were running and screaming everywhere. Everyone grabbed 
whatever weapons they could find. Shotguns and hunting rifles made up most of 
the arsenal.
        Stray shots hitting flammable materials and overturned fireplaces caused 
dozens of fires to break out. The Aliens could be seen charging and grabbing, 
silhouetted against the flames. People fought, sometimes being killed along with 
their enemy when hit by splatters of blood. The battle was short lived. The 
humans lost.

BACK IN MULDER AND SCULLY'S OFFICE
        Scully examined the photos again, closer. It was possible she was 
mistaken. 
        But not likely.
        "They're baaaaack," said Mulder without any humor in his voice.
        "Do you think we'll be 'requested' again?"
        Mulder shrugged. "Don't know. We are two of the only six people to see 
these things and live."
        "Nine," said Scully. "You forgot the chopper crew."
        "I have a photographic memory, Scully. I forget nothing. I'm just not 
counting them because they didn't get very close."
        "What do we do if we are called in?"
        "I don't know. Be better prepared, maybe. Maybe just suggest they nuke 
the place."
        "Mulder!" Scully's tone of voice was incredulous.
        "I'm serious. We should make sure we make a clean sweep of it this time. 
What these things reached a heavily populated area?" Mulder looked at the next 
picture. Same scene, except less humans.
        "So we recommend that they nuke the island? There could be serious risks 
of fallout, Mulder. Why not conventional explosives?"
        "That might work, too. Actually, I was going to suggest we send in a 
small strike team first. Maybe grab a few bodies. You know, so we'd have a 
little evidence this time."
        Scully tossed that question back and forth in her mind. If they 
recovered an Alien corpse and proved that it was a genuine extraterrestrial, it 
would be the key to getting to the truth they'd searched for for so long. On the 
other hand, the last encounter with those things had cost the lives of over a 
hundred people, counting the oil rig and Coast Guard Cutter crews and the SEAL 
team casualties. It wasn't worth it.
        She was opening her mouth to say so when the phone rang. She picked it 
up. "Scully."
        It was Skinner. "Agent Scully? You and Agent Mulder'd better get back up 
here. Now."
        "We're on our way, sir." Scully hung up the phone. "That was Skinner," 
she said in response to Mulder's unanswered question. "He wants to see us on his 
office. Sounded urgent. I guess you were right."
        Mulder just shook his head. "I wouldn't mind being right so often if I 
had more optimistic predictions."

Chapter 4
        At four separate military installations across the globe, four Navy 
SEALs received the same message:
        "The Rig 43 Epidemic has spread. Report to USS *Elliot* ASAP."
        Lt. Quiddis placed a hand on his forehead and muttered, "By Allah, it 
can't be."
        Corporal Soun's jaw dropped. "What the fuck!"
        Petty Officer Meyers jumped up from his chair. "Holy shit! No way. We 
toasted those dudes!"
        Paddy let out a low moan. "Oh God. Not again."
        All four were choppered to the cruiser *Elliot*, where they met again 
for the first time in months. The men traded a few stories, but they knew what 
they were facing. Death.
        Not that that ever stopped a SEAL.
*        *        *
FBI HEADQUARTERS
SKINNER'S OFFICE
        The Agents were expecting the news, but that didn't mean they took it 
any better.
        They entered Skinner's office and found exactly what they were 
expecting. A Navy Admiral was standing next to the desk.
        "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully," Skinner nodded to each agent in turn, "The 
Admiral here seems to have something he wants to talk to you about."
        "Agents," said the Admiral (or the man purporting to be), "I believe you 
recall when the military requested your assistance to deal with a possible 
epidemic on Exxon Oil Rig 43 several months ago."
        "How could I forget?" Mulder muttered, just loud enough for the Admiral 
to hear.
        "Well, it looks like the plague was not completely controlled. There's 
been an outbreak on a nearby island."
        Mulder had to fight to avoid laughing at the way they used terminology 
to make it sound like it really was a virus, not a psychotic Alien animal. He 
decided to test the Naval officer. "Are they sure?"
        "It's confirmed."
        "How," chimed in Scully. She knew where Mulder was going with this.
        "I don't know. I just know it's confirmed."
        So the Admiral was just a messenger. In the dark. Mulder decided to quit 
playing with him. "Where and when, sir?"
        "You'll meet with some of the other team members at Norfolk at 1400. 
From there you'll be flown to the Elliot where you'll rendezvous with the rest 
of the team. Any questions?"
        Mulder shrugged and glanced at Scully. She shrugged back. "Guess not."
        "Then I'll be leaving." As the Admiral grabbed his hat off the nearby 
coat rack, Mulder spotted the name "Chegwidden" on his uniform. "And Agents?" 
Chegwidden added as he headed towards the door. "Try not to get any more of us 
killed this time." He pointed at the SEAL insignia on his chest and left.
        "Who was that, sir?" asked Scully.
        "Rear Admiral A.J. Chegwidden. Head of Navy JAG." Skinner looked at both 
of them. "Well? What are you waiting for? You've got a flight to catch at two-
o'clock."
        "Yes sir." The Agents hurried out of the room for the second time that 
day.

JAG HEADQUARTERS
FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA
        They weren't the only partners being called into the boss's office that 
day. Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Major Sarah McKenzie were getting a 
speech from Admiral Chegwidden at that very moment.
        "You'll be meeting with two FBI Agents at Norfolk. From there you go to 
the Elliot, where you'll meet up with four survivors from the last SEAL team and 
a fresh one. From there, it's a chopper ride to the island. I don't need to 
remind you to be careful."
        "Aye, sir," said Rabb, "A class 4 virus is very serious." Rabb knew it 
wasn't really a virus they were up against, though. The medical reports didn't 
fit. Burns, cuts, bullet wounds, broken bones. And none of the survivors were 
wearing their Contam gear when they were picked up. And there was the matter of 
the first chopper.
        "You're smarter than that, Commander. We know that it wasn't any virus 
that killed those SEALS. You don't expend twenty magazines shooting at a 
microbe. I want you to find out what it really was and report back to me. And no 
heroics."
        "And if it was a virus, sir?" asked "Mac" McKenzie.
        "Then find out what the hell they were shooting at. Dismissed."
        "Sir!" Both officers left. Lt. jg Bud Roberts, their assistant and 
sidekick, was waiting outside.
        "Well, sir? Where are we headed this time?"
        "*We* aren't headed anywhere, Bud. Mac and I are going to a little 
island in the Caribbean. And judging by the fact that half a SEAL team never 
came back from last time, you're not going." Bud was a competent JAG officer, 
but he had no combat experience, having served his entire service in times of 
peace.
        "Well, good luck, sir, ma'am." Bud turned to go.
        "Hey, Bud. We're going to need a contact here in case we need 
information. And you'll get a chance to complete that overdue paperwork, and see 
Harriet."
        Mentioning Bud's girlfriend caused his head to shoot up. "Aye, sir. I 
pity you, really. Running through some sweaty jungle, probably going to be bored 
as hell." Bud typed something quickly on his computer, then motioned for Rabb to 
look closer. Written on the screen were the words, "SIR, THERE'S SOMETHING YOU 
SHOULD KNOW. A FRIEND SENT ME THESE SATELLITE PHOTOS OF AN ISLAND IN THE 
CARIBBEAN." Bud then opened a file. It was the same photo sent to Mulder. Houses 
aflame, guns firing, dark shapes charging.
        Rabb had a fleeting thought. //I guess we know what they were firing at. 
One question down, at the cost of a dozen new ones.// He nudged Mac, as if to 
say, "Are you seeing this?"
        The Marine just stared at the pictures. There was something familiar 
about the dark shapes, but she couldn't place it.
        Those SEALs definitely had some questions to answer.

*        *        *
NORFOLK
        Questions Mulder and Scully would have gladly  answered, had they been 
asked. After they confirmed that they weren't being bugged, of course.
        But no questions were being asked just yet. The agents pulled up to the 
gate, flashed their ID at the guard, and then were allowed to proceed on foot. A 
Marine guard showed them the way to the helo. A tall man, the same height as 
Mulder, and slightly shorter woman, both with black hair, were waiting nearby. 
The man had Navy khakis and the woman Marine olives.
        Harm and Mac spotted the agents approaching. The man was the same height 
as Harm, while the red-headed woman was nearly a full foot shorter.
        Both partner teams sized each other up. The JAG team had read Mulder and 
Scully's files and decided that they were probably on the up and up. The 
emphasis being "probably." But they had half a SEAL team's word that the FBI 
agents were honorable and good in a fight. Harm couldn't wait to hear how they 
knew that.
        Mulder and Scully had heard from their sources who the probable 
candidates to accompany them would be. The files on Rabb and McKenzie, and 
scuttlebutt, said that they were honorable, dedicated to the truth and had 
combat experience. They weren't taking any of it at face value. They trusted no 
one, US military especially.
        Thus two well known partnerships, both with the goal of finding the 
truth, met. And neither one trusted the other as far as they could throw them.
        "Agents Mulder and Scully?" Harm asked as soon as they were within 
earshot. He had to shout, the pilot had already started up the helo's engines.
        "No, we're Moldy and Scurvy, their stunt doubles." Mulder's comment 
didn't even have enough sarcasm to get a chuckle out of anyone present.
        "Funny. I'm Commander Rabb, this is Major McKenzie."
        "Trust me, by the end of this mission you're going to wish you really 
had sent stunt doubles," said Scully.
        "Why's that?" asked Mac.
        "We'll tell you when we reach the ship. Wouldn't want to scare you 
shitless when you still have a chance to back out," said Mulder.
        Scully shot him her classic disbelieving look, while Harm and Mac just 
stared at him like he was crazy. Harm spoke first. "I think you'll find we're 
just as hard to scare as you are. Now, I believe the *Elliot* is waiting for 
us."
        //The Elliot?// Scully was confused. Her uncle's ship again? //I guess 
they're bringing the old gang back to cut down on the witnesses.// The two 
dynamic duos climbed into the Huey, both more confused and suspicious than 
before.
        "Hey, wait up!" Everyone looked back to spot a tall blonde man and a 
short Hispanic man running up to the chopper. Both climbed in, and the tall one 
handed Harm a manila envelope. "Our orders." Harm opened it and spotted the 
signature at the bottom.
        "Clayton Webb!" said Harm, still yelling over the rotors. "I'm not 
taking any of Webb's spooks on this mission!"
        "We don't work for Webb! He just stamped the ticket!"
        Mulder stepped in. "This is a potential combat mission. If you can't 
fight, you can't come."
        "I was a SEAL in 'Nam," said the tall one, "And my partner here was a 
light infantry sniper. I think we'll make do. By the way, the name's Clark. John 
Clark."
        The short one extended a hand. "Domingo Chavez. You can call me Ding."
        "You got ranks?" Harm this time.
        "Master Chief and Staff Sergeant, respectively," said Clark.
        "Feel free to join the party, Chief." Harm nodded to Mac, who signaled 
the pilot to take off.
*        *        *
SOMEWHERE IN THE PENTAGON
        "He sent who?" Cancer Man lifted the cigarette to his mouth, puffed, and 
set it down.
        "Rabb and McKenzie. Chegwidden's best JAG trouble-shooters. Supposedly 
very dedicated to justice." SECNAV, the Secretary of the Navy, said.
        "Will they help us cover it up, if you order them?"
        "Possibly. We'd have to find a good reason, though. Prove that it would 
be a threat to national security and they'll keep their mouths shut. But if they 
think it's a cover-up solely for the sake of a cover-up, they'll spill the beans 
faster than you can say 'dismissed.' Lawyers are a lot harder to control than 
regular military. Especially that pilot, Rabb."
        "Well then, we'll just have to be ready to terminate them." Cancer Man 
took another puff. "We have an even bigger problem. Mary Pat over at Langley 
sent two of her paramilitary types along."
        "Christ!" said the third man, Well-Maincured Man. "If the CIA finds out 
about the Project, they'll tell the President, and he'll blow it out of the 
water."
        "Just two more people to silence, one way or another." Cancer Man 
grinned evilly. "Perhaps all six will merely fail to return."
        "Six?"
        "I would be glad for an opportunity to get Agents Mulder and Scully out 
of my hair."

Chapter 5
        The Huey set down on the deck of the USS *America*. Six people climbed 
out.
        "Where to from here?" asked Scully.
        "From here we fly by plane to the *Independence.* From there we chopper 
to the *Elliot.*" Harm turned to Mulder. "How you holding up?"
        Mulder finished downing a sea-sickness pill. "Peachy. How're our 
friends?" He tilted his head towards Clark and Ding, who had engaged Mac in some 
idle banter.
        "Looks like they're doing just fine. I wish I knew who they were."
        "Yeah, I don't trust them. On the other hand I don't trust you, either. 
Hell, I literally can't trust my own mother. I'm not exactly the one you should 
be talking to." Mulder struggled not to laugh at the look Harm shot him. The 
Spooky act even worked on people who weren't in the Bureau. And it was true, 
too!
        Then Harm started laughing. "You go to a lot of trouble to keep that 
Spooky image, don't you? Hey, let me tell you about this case I had that 
probably would have been an X-file if it wasn't for the Navy angle."
        Scully, meanwhile, drifted over to Mac and the "friends" in question. 
They seemed to be getting along fine. Scully walked up just as Mac was saying, 
"Is that an offer for a date?"
        "Whoa!" said Ding, and both he and Clark stepped back.
        "Sorry," said Clark, "I'm married with three kids."
        "One of whom I'm engaged to," said Ding.
        "Talk about the in-laws from hell." Everyone turned and noticed Scully 
standing nearby.
        "Tell me about it!" Ding and Clark said simultaneously.
        Ding chuckled. "Trust me, you haven't known fear until you propose to a 
SEAL's daughter! I had to leave the engine running on my car in case I needed a 
quick getaway!"
        There was a general laugh around the foursome. Scully began to engage 
the two in conversation. As they talked, Mac slipped off to the comm room.
*        *        *
JAG HEADQUARTERS
        The phone rang. Chegwidden picked it up. "Admiral Chegwidden."
        "Admiral, it's Major McKenzie. I was wondering if you could pull the 
files on a John Clark, US Navy, and Domingo Chavez, US Army. They're getting 
sent along with us and it's got Webb's signature."
        "Yeah, he mentioned that some people would be joining you. But he says 
they aren't his."
        "Whose?"
        "Mary Pat's."
        "Who is Mary Pat?"
        "The Director of Central Intelligence."
        "Then we are dragging spooks along." Mac wondered where the spooks were 
now. She had to warn Harm and those Feds.
        "No, they're not spooks. They're paramilitary operatives. And everyone 
from the President down vouches for them. I've even got a signed letter of 
'honorability', whatever that is, from the Japanese Prime Minister."
        "You've got a what?"
        "Webb sent their files over. Chavez was a Sergeant in the Army. Light 
Infantry sniper. Retired a little while back, took up a job with the CIA. 
Clark's file looks made up, probably not his real name. But he's got a wife and 
kids and the basic information seems to be true." Chegwidden flipped to the 
picture. "Holy shit!"
        "What is it, sir?" Mac glanced at the door. She wanted to get the 
information she needed fast and warn her partner.
        "I know this guy. SEAL in 'Nam. Had a reputation for pulling solo rescue 
missions on the other side of enemy lines. But his name wasn't Clark."
        "What was it, sir?"
        Chegwidden thought for a moment. He decided to keep that under his hat 
for the moment. "Not important. I don't know what the guy's mission is, but he's 
probably going to be handy in a fight. Just don't turn your back on him." 
Chegwidden hung up, then stood and opened his office door. "Yeoman, find Lt. 
Roberts."
        "Right here, sir." Bud stuck his head around the corner.
        "Lieutenant, I want you to go to Records and get the file on a Kelly, 
John T. And keep it quiet."
*        *        *
        Mac slipped over to Harm and Mulder. Harm was in the middle of telling 
Mulder the "Sightings" story.
        "So Meg asks the little girl, 'Why did you want them to be ghosts?' And 
I say, 'Why did you want them to be aliens?'"
        "Yeah," said Mulder, "But imagine having me for a partner. My wild 
theories would drive you nuts in no time flat. The fact that they're usually 
right notwithstanding."
        Mac cleared her throat. "Ahem. Guys, we've got a little problem. Those 
two Webb sent along are CIA paramilitary operatives."
        "And damn proud of it!" called Ding's voice from across the deck.
        Everyone but Clark stared at him.
        "You knew we knew?" asked Mac. She immediately wished she hadn't, it 
sounded cliched.
        "You mean you didn't? It's not like it's hard information to obtain. Any 
bank we ever cashed a paycheck at knows it." Ding noticed that everyone was 
giving him strange stares, and Mulder and Scully were backing up and reaching 
for their holsters. Mulder stopped when he remembered that he wasn't wearing it 
because he still hadn't gotten a new gun.
        But before Scully's pistol could clear its holster, a yeomen stuck his 
head in. "Sirs, ma'ams, you plane's ready."
*        *        *
        So they were riding with two CIA paramilitaries. Just the situation 
Mulder hoped he'd never get into. He didn't doubt that as soon as he found proof 
that the things on the island were extraterrestrials, these two would toast the 
evidence, maybe with Harm and Mac's help. Scully also harbored suspicions of a 
cover-up, but wasn't so sure that aliens were what was being covered.
        Ding and Clark, for they're part, didn't know anything about aliens. 
They're opinions were rather neutral on the subject, the human race had enough 
problems with it's own species to worry about Mr. Spock just yet. If someone 
found proof of extraterrestrial life, they'd chalk it up with all the other 
scientific discoveries that were amazing but didn't affect their lives in any 
way. They'd been sent because the CIA brass didn't trust this part of the 
Pentagon. They wanted to know what was being covered up, and fast.
        Harm and Mac had no beliefs for or against aliens. Harm had encountered 
would-be "aliens" before that turned out to be nothing but drug smugglers 
looking for a cover. Their concern was finding out what killed those people, and 
making sure no more died.
        There was a sullen silence in the plane for half an hour. Then Scully 
and Mac managed to strike up a conversation about what it was like in their 
respective jobs. Ding and Clark chatted a little about Chavez's wedding plans, 
and how they both thought "Under Siege" was a comedy in their book. Harm and 
Mulder just watched the pair, before eventually chatting a little bit.
        A couple of hours (and several horror stories) later, the big debate 
began. Who'd had the most messed up childhood and family life.
        Mac started it. "My dad was a wife abuser. My mom left us. I was an 
alcoholic at sixteen. We had a car crash and my Uncle Matt took me in and dried 
me out. I idolized him, so I followed in his footsteps and joined the Marines." 
She shrugged. "Not a fun family life."
        Scully shook her head. "Nothing so traumatic in my childhood, but my 
adult family life more than makes up for it. I was a Navy brat. I grew up, went 
to med school and got recruited by the FBI. Threw my lot in with Fox Mulder..."
        "His name is Fox?" Mac almost busted out laughing.
        Mulder shot Scully a venomous look. "I'm gonna get you for that, 
Scully."
        Mac shook off her bout of the giggles. Hanging around Scully was making 
her act strangely. Maybe cause she didn't need a tough exterior to earn her 
respect. "You were saying?"
        "Well, I used to have a sister. Not since two years ago. Assassin's 
bullet meant for me got the wrong Scully."
        "I'm sorry."
        "If there's one thing I've learned to hate, it's when people apologize 
for things they had nothing to do with." Scully sat back for a while. "Just 
family life, or does life in general count?"
        "Are you telling me you actually want a 'who has the crappier life' 
competition?"
        "Not really." Scully said.
        Clicking of the intercom system. "Everyone please strap in, we'll be 
landing on the *Independence* in five minutes."
        All six hustled to strap themselves back in. The small plane flew low, 
then the back landing gear touched the deck. A hook attached to the underside 
caught the wire stretched along the runway, and the plane was jerked to a halt.
        The six undid the safety belts and climbed out of the plane. They 
automatically split off into their usual pairs, although the JAG officers and 
FBI agents were avoiding the CIA operatives for understandable reasons.
        The ship's protocol officer ran up to them. "Agents Mulder and Scully? 
These came for you." He handed Scully a bulging manila envelope.
        "What's that?" asked Mac.
        "Your files," said Scully. "Figured I'd find out who I was going in 
with." She opened the envelope and checked inside. Four files? Odd. "How long 
until we start off for the *Elliot*?"
        "Right now!" said Rabb. "Let's go, agents!"
*        *        *
        Mulder and Scully spent the helo flight going over the files. Rabb's 
seemed to scream "hero." F-14 pilot before night blindness caused a crash which 
forced him to transfer to JAG. He had an incredible success record in JAG, both 
in and out of the courtroom. Navy Cross for flight action over Bosnia. Mentions 
of various hand to hand shoot-outs while investigating cases. And a recent note, 
"Once fired a suspected murder weapon in courtroom."
        Mckenzie's was a little more subdued. Service in Bosnia. Courtroom 
record second only to Rabb's. More mentions of gunfights during JAG service. 
Both Rabb and McKenzie were noted for taking down a Colombian drug lord less 
than a month ago.
        The third file was for Harmon Rabb Sr. He was the father of the Harm 
Rabb accompanying them on this mission. An F-4 "Wild Weasel" SAM killer pilot, 
he was listed as MIA. More specifically, shot down over Vietnam. //Skinner must 
not have known which Rabb we were talking about, so he sent both.//
        The fourth was for a Lt. Meg Austin. That one confused them, until they 
noticed "USS *Elliot*" as the current posting. Her previous assignment had been 
with JAG. Partner: Harmon Rabb.
        That explained it.
        Mulder and Scully's musings were interrupted with a thump. The chopper 
had landed.
*        *        *
        Lt. Meg Austin, Second Weapons Officer, *USS Elliot*, was off-duty, 
lounging at her desk. There was a knock at the door. "Come in," she said.
        The hatch opened. "Hi, Meg. Long time no see," came the familiar voice.
        She spun around to face her old friend. "Harm!" She ran over. The pair 
hugged.
        "Harm, what are you doing onboard? We haven't had any mysterious 
incidents." Her grin faded. "You're not going to that island, are you?"
        "Yeah," said Harm, "But I didn't drop by to talk business. How have you 
been?"
        "Fine," she shook off the question and repressed her point. "Harm, 
listen to me. That island..."
        "What about it?" Harm stared into her eyes. "What's over there?"
        "I don't know. No one does, except the people who went to that oil rig. 
Most of whom didn't come back. We even lost the first rescue chopper. We had to 
divert a helo from the Buffalo Bill Exercise to pick them up. And those who did 
come back had stories of... of these things."
        Harm shook his head. "I'm sure it'll be okay. Can we move on to a 
different subject, please?"
        "Sure, Harm. How's this new jarhead partner of yours working out...?"

Chapter 6
        Mulder and Scully entered the forward hold and were struck with a sense 
of deja vu. It was too similar to the last time they were here. A group of eight 
men in the infamous SEAL black fatigues were working at one table, while four 
more waited nearby. The Agents recognized the latter group.
        "Hey everybody, the Feds are back!" The foursome of SEALs ran over.
        "Hey, Quiddis! I thought they'd buried you!" Mulder shook hands with the 
Lieutenant.
        "Oh, they tried. But they'll need our help for this one, eh?" Quiddis 
extended his hand to Scully. "How are you doing, ma'am?"
        Scully clasped the hand warmly. "Been better, ell-tee. But not often." 
There were a few chuckles from the group.
        "Hey, Doc, had to patch Feddie here up recently?" Soun gave Mulder a 
slap on the shoulders as he spoke to Scully.
        "A lot of patching for both, Soun," said Mulder, returning the backslap.
        "Yo, Dana! Good to see ya!" Meyers this time. The kid was definitely 
Californian.
        Paddy, still with the same brown mustache, shook hands with Mulder. 
"Good to see you, sir."        The JAG officers walked up next. "Lt. Quiddis? 
Lt. Commander Rabb. JAG sent me to figure out what the hell was going on out 
here."
        "You'll have to ask Commander Frenge over there. He's gonna be in charge 
on the island." Quiddis indicated one of the eight new SEALs. "Say, didn't you 
jump with that SEAL team down in Colombia?"
        "Yeah, actually."
        "When was this?" Mac asked.
        "Oh, before we met. This is Major McKenzie. Watch it, she's got an 
attitude, even for a jarhead."
        Clark and Ding passed through next. Clark went over to the three NCOs.
        "Hey, guys. John Clark. I was a SEAL back when it was actually a 
dangerous job."
        "'Nam vet, eh?" said Soun. "And the short guy?"
        "Ding Chavez. Sergeant Domingo Chavez, so I'd better see some push-ups 
out of you for that remark!" Ding laughed at the dismayed look on Soun's face. 
"I'm Army, guess that sets me apart, eh?"
        "Damn straight, Ding." Clark glanced at the weapons table. "What're we 
carrying for this one?"
        "M-16. What else?" The M-16 assault rifle was *the* weapon of the United 
States armed forces. "Except two guys, whose 16s'll have M-79 grenade launchers. 
Speaking of which, everyone gets a couple of grenades, too. And Soun here is 
going to be packing a SAW." 
        "Sounds like familiar shit," said Ding. "But I brought this along for 
myself." He reached into his duffel and came up with an MP-5 like he'd had in 
Colombia. Three fire modes: single, three shot burst and fully automatic. It had 
a large silencer attached to it and a powerful infrared scope. The perfect close 
range sniper/assault weapon.
        "Hey! Gather round, everybody!" Commander Frenge called the entire team 
over. "As you all know, we're going to hit the island in an hour. We've got some 
survivors of a previous encounter to tell us what we're going up against. Lt. 
Quiddis?"
        Quiddis stepped up. "First thing I've got to say. You've been told 
you're going up against a virus. Wrong answer. Nobody's gotten the chance to 
scientifically classify these bastards, but they're definitely some sort of 
animal. Stands about this high," Quiddis indicated a height a little above his 
own, "and it's very nasty. I'm not going to go into too much detail describing 
it, because you'll know it when you see it. It looks like it's straight out of 
hell." The SEALs were silent. "For a little more detail, Dr. Dana Scully, FBI." 
He waved Scully over. "Be real polite to her, guys, she'd kick the ass of any 
two of you, hands down."
        Scully shot Quiddis an odd look. "Thank you, Lieutenant, I think." A 
little laughter. "Our opposition is fast, strong, and quiet. Strikes out of 
nowhere, particularly in the dark. Intelligent enough to surprise you, but no 
technological intelligence. But the major risk is their blood. It's highly 
acidic. And I don't mean itchy skin acidic. I mean melt-a-fucking-hole-in-a-
metal-wall acidic. If you kill one, you'd better dive backwards real fast. These 
bastards could almost be described as giant bugs with acid blood. Not something 
you tangle with lightly. Anybody want to back out?" No response. "Good. Agent 
Mulder here has some information on how and why they act."
        Mulder stepped up. "When we spent a day tangling with these things back 
on Rig 43, they kept attacking repeatedly. Even though we kept killing them, 
they always came back for another round. And there's a good reason. They weren't 
attacking us for food or territory. They were attacking for the most basic 
reason an organism has. Reproduction."
        A SEAL called out. "You mean they're going to rape us?" Laughter from 
the group.
        "No, just use you to incubate their eggs. And when they hatch, they 
punch their way out forcefully. People don't usually survive that. It's like 
wasps with aphids, except this time the aphids have guns." Mulder grinned. 
        "So, SEALs, we gonna kick some ass?" called out Quiddis.
        "HOO-YAH!" The SEALs cried simultaneously.
        "All right," said Frenge, "Time for us to move out. Issue the newcomers 
some fatigues and make sure *everyone* gets a gun."
        More bustles of activity. Everyone got a M-16 and plenty of spare 
magazines. Hand grenades were handed out liberally. "Hey, everyone," Paddy 
called, "Hang on to one of your grenades. If they grab you, set it off and take 
a few with you." The SEALs were carrying some other bits of equipment, they knew 
from experience.
        Scully broke open the box of medical equipment. "I need to know who here 
has medical training." Two SEALs raised their hands. "Thank god, I'm not the 
only doctor going on this trip." She handed everyone a general purpose medkit, 
and the SEAL medics larger kits.
        Frenge checked his watch. "Quickly, people. Issue the radios."
        Everyone had a small radio for communication with the rest of the team, 
while there were two long range sets. Frenge took one and handed the other to 
Quiddis, who looked at it before handing it to Rabb. "Senior officers and all." 
Harm just strapped it on.
        "Thanks."
        The team filed out of the hold, but not before Mulder stopped to 
thoroughly examine the maps of the island. He'd made a promise after that last 
incident.
*        *        *
        The helo dropped down, touched ground quickly, and allowed the team to 
disembark. Then it shot back up into the sky.
        "Well," said one of the SEALs, "Now what?"
        "First we snoop around and find out if these bugs of Mulder's really 
killed these people. Then we get out of here." Frenge didn't mention that as 
soon as the team was off, the island was to be destroyed with the *Elliot*'s 
cruise missiles. These things weren't to be allowed to spread again.
        "Right after we get a genetic sample."
        Everyone turned to look at Mulder.
        "This time I want to confirm what these things are. And I need proof."
        "We'll include obtaining a sample on our mission objectives," said Harm. 
"Right below survival. I'm kind of interested in finding out what these things 
you described are too."
        "All right," said Frenge, "We'll split into two teams. Rabb, take 
Quiddis and his men, McKenzie, Mulder, Scully and Smith here." He pointed to one 
of the SEALs with an M-16 and grenade launcher. "Take the east half of the 
village. I'll take Clark, Chavez and the rest of my men and check out the west 
side. Snoop around a bit. Meet you back here in one hour."
        "Aye, sir." Harm motioned to the Agents, his partner and the five SEALs 
in question, then set off into the bush.
        Frenge gathered the others around him. "Come on. And keep an eye out for 
Mulder's bad guys."
        Unbeknownst to him, an almost eyeless head tracked their progress.

Chapter 7
        Rabb's team was moving through the east part of the village. Many of the 
houses were either burnt or had holes in the walls. They'd found a couple of 
severed arms and legs, but hadn't stopped to look too closely. They found their 
first whole corpse ten minutes into their search. It had a fist sized hole in 
the chest. Scully crouched down to examine it closer. It definitely appeared 
that the hole had been caused by something inside blasting its way out.
        "It's them," said Mulder, "That's the fate of anyone who gets caught by 
these things. That's why Paddy told you to keep a grenade handy."
        "Let's move on," said Harm. "I get the feeling we don't want to spend 
too much time here."
        "You got that right." Mulder scanned the nearest trees. He knew their 
basic strategy. Let the victims go in, then attack them. "We should be on the 
lookout. They're going to attack before too much longer."
        "I agree," said Quiddis. "There's only two things they could be waiting 
for. Us to get in too deep to go back, or darkness." He pointed at the setting 
sun. "Both will happen before too much longer. We should leave, sir."
        Harm turned to look at Quiddis. This wasn't the SEAL gung-ho he was used 
to. Was Quiddis making a tactical decision like any officer, or did these things 
scare him? But Harm looked Quiddis in the eye and saw no fear. He decided it was 
the former. "All right, let's snoop around a little more. If we've found nothing 
after a while, we just leave and send a burial detail." He looked over at 
Mulder. "Deal?"
        "Fine by me." Mulder could guess what was going through Harm's head. 
Rabb knew the SEALs respected the Agents greatly, and he knew he was in 
unfamiliar territory. He wanted the experts' opinions on what these things, if 
they existed, would do. He also didn't want any divided loyalties. Mulder had 
read Harm's service record, and while Rabb's job choices usually made a loner or 
part of a two or three man team, a pilot or a lawyer, he could command. But he 
didn't trust the Agents any more than they trusted the military.
        But this just flashed through his mind in an instant. Which was good 
because they only had an instant.
        Because even as Mulder said that Rabb's plan was fine by him, black 
skeletal arms wrapped around Paddy and dragged him into the remains of one of 
the houses.
        Everyone turned to look as the SEAL screamed. And they saw the first 
Alien. Black and armored, with a smooth head and snarling jaws.
        Paddy could be heard saying, "Not again!" Then a grenade pin went flying 
away, Paddy was heard to yell, "DIE!" And an explosion blew the old structure to 
pieces. 
        In seconds Aliens were charging from every side. The humans all opened 
fire. The creatures screamed, green acid blood splattered on the ground, burning 
holes.
        The team seemed to automatically fall into a circular formation, guns 
outward. Smith fired at one crawling on a nearby roof, and the acid splashed 
down on him. His M-16 went flying.
        Harm was firing at the attackers, while Mac yelled into the radio on his 
back, shooting her own M-16 and holding the earpiece between her cheek and 
shoulder. "We need a helo now! We're under attack, dammit! No, I won't hold! 
Fuck!"
        Mulder fired his own weapon at one of the charging attackers. Hit and 
kill. He spotted two more. He fired, hit one. Then his rifle stopped firing.
        //Out of ammo. These automatics go through rounds like crazy.// Mulder 
hit the clip eject. It didn't eject. He grabbed the magazine and tried to pull 
it out. No use. The creature was charging. Mulder dove for Smith's M-16 where it 
laid on the ground. He whipped it up, but the thing was too close. He'd get a 
face full of acid blood. There was a grenade launcher slung under the barrel. 
Mulder grabbed it and pumped the handle, chambering one. What had Scully said? 
It worked just like a shotgun. A really big shotgun. The Alien was a yard away. 
He fired.
*        *        *
        Frenge's team knew nothing of the attack on Rabb's. It heard a faint 
explosion then some popping sounds. "Those are M-16s. The other team's under 
attack!" Clark yelled.
        Then the radio on Frenge's back crackled. "Team One, Team One, this is 
Team Two. We're under attack." The voice was female. Major McKenzie.
        Frenge grabbed the earpiece. It always annoyed him how much it looked 
like a phone. "Copy. Type and size of attacking  group?"
        "They're Mulder's monsters, and there's a lot of them. We called the 
ship, but I don't know if it got through." Over the radio, there was gunfire and 
screams. An explosion.
        Then Chavez spotted something in the bushes. "Hey, ell-tee." It irked 
Frenge when Chavez called him that, and Ding knew it. "Something over here... 
SHIT!"
        It came at them, screeching. Chavez fired a three shot burst from his 
MP-5. The thing went down.
        "Good shooting, Ding," said Clark.
        "Everyone, take cover!" yelled Frenge. There was enough available cover 
nearby for them to make a circle and stand back to back. The Aliens had picked a 
bad place for an ambush. Or perhaps they hadn't planned to strike yet, but 
Chavez had upset their plans.
        Then the creatures struck. Weapons fired. Black shapes died, spraying 
acid.
        Over the radio there were still yells and gunfire from Rabb's team. They 
heard Mac yell, "Oh my God!" Then there was a loud thump and the creature's 
asthmatic hiss was heard way too loud and close. McKenzie yelled, "Harm!"
        The radio died in a hiss of static. Or was it that thing breathing? 
Frenge dismissed the question. //Count the bodies after the fight's over,// he 
thought, firing his assault rifle at another of the Aliens.
*        *        *
        Scully was right, it was like a shotgun. A really big shotgun.        
        The recoil knocked the crouching Mulder the rest of the way to the 
ground. But the impact of the grenade knocked the Alien back. Even before it hit 
the ground, the explosive detonated, turning the deadly killing machine into a 
fireball.
        Scully glanced down at Mulder. "Grenade launcher, huh?" Then she 
returned to the fight.
        Ten feet away, Mac was still yelling into the radio. She'd switched 
frequencies, and was talking to Frenge's team. There was a yell of "SHIT!" from 
the other end, followed by MP-5 fire and someone else saying "Nice shooting, 
Ding." Then, "Everyone, take cover!"
        Back on their end, an Alien leapt at the JAG officers. Mac dropped the 
earpiece and dove right. Harm dove left. The Alien chose left, and jumped on 
Harm's back. It dug its claws into the radio set. Mac aimed her rifle at it, 
then swore. The acid blood. She charged in and struck it with the butt of her M-
16 just as the creature was opening its mouth to strike. The blow knocked its 
head to one side, and the second set of jaws lashed out and snapped shut inches 
from Harm's head.
        Rabb reacted too, unsnapping the straps that held the radio on. After 
Mac's hit caused the creature to miss, he tossed the pack off, Alien and all. He 
turned, bringing his gun up as Mac reversed her grip, grabbing the trigger 
again. They both pumped a dozen shots into the creature.
        Between the bullets and the acid blood, the radio was unsalvageable.
        It was a moment before they noticed that everything was silent. The 
attack was over.
        The three remaining SEALs stood, guns in hand. Scully was kneeling over 
Smith checking for a pulse. Judging by the grim look on her face, there wasn't 
one. Mulder was nearby, gripping the M-16 and scanning for trouble.
        Harm and Mac walked over. "I don't suppose I even need to ask if that 
was it," said Harm.
        "If you mean were those the things that attacked us on Rig 43, then yes. 
If you mean, was that all they had to throw at us, then no." Mulder kneeled next 
to Scully and took Smith's ammo and equipment. "They'll be back, and in greater 
numbers."
        //Isn't that a Star Wars quote?// Mac shook the thought off and checked 
her watch. She had an incredible sense of time, able to tell how much time had 
passed, and never off by more than thirty seconds. But the fight had screwed her 
up, and she'd lost track.
        "The radio's toasted. Still got your handheld?" Harm grabbed the radio 
Mac handed him. It would reach the other team, and they could get Frenge to try 
and call for the helo.
        If Frenge's team made it.
*        *        *
        Frenge's team did indeed make it. Unscathed. The location of the fight 
had turned it in their favor, allowing them to stay hunkered down and shoot the 
charging Aliens. The only injury was an acid burn on one SEAL's arm. One of the 
medics was tending to it now.
        Frenge didn't waste time thinking how many he might have lost if Chavez 
hadn't spotted one skulking around.
        Then Clark's radio crackled. "Team One, this is Team Two. Come in 
please. Team One, this is Team Two. Frenge, reply, dammit!"
        Frenge held out his hand. "Can I have that?" Clark tossed it to him. 
"Frenge here. Good to hear you, Rabb. Thought we'd lost you for a second, 
there."
        "No, I'm still here. Are you okay?"
        "Yeah, we drove them off."
        "They'll be back." Harm's voice had a dead certainty in it. "Lose 
anyone?"
        "No, surprisingly enough we're all still here. You?"
        "I lost two people."
        "Who?" //I wonder if... naw, I'm not that lucky.// Frenge dismissed the 
thought.
        "Smith and Paddy."
        "Damn!"
        "Yeah, look, our radio's gone. We need you to signal for a pickup."
        "I'll radio for the helo. You take your team to the LZ, we'll meet you 
there."
        "Aye, sir." Harm switched off the radio and gave it back to Mac. He took 
one for himself off Smith. "Mulder, trade guns with Meyers." That way the SEAL 
would have the grenade launcher. "Lt. Quiddis, you've got pallbearer duty. We'll 
take Mr. Smith back with us for burial at sea." //I'm not about to leave another 
body for them to use as a nursery.// "We're headed to the LZ for pickup. After 
we get back I say we bomb the place. Anyone have a reason we shouldn't?"
        "Nope." Mulder held out a bag containing bits of the Aliens' carapace. 
"I don't think there's anything here worth staying for."
        "Then let's move out." The team marched off.
        "Mulder," said Scully, leaning in to talk to him, "What exactly do you 
plan to do with that?"
        "Run genetic tests, determine whether or not it's extraterrestrial in 
origin, reveal my findings to the world, the usual. Why do you ask?" Mulder 
wasn't showing the odd giddiness he had whenever he'd had a chance to prove 
alien existence before.
        "And then what?" asked Mac. The Agents stared at her. "The Nobel Prize? 
Money? Oprah?" It was hard to tell if the Marine was serious.
        "I just want to find the truth," said Mulder. "That's all I've cared 
about since starting the X-Files."
        Mac shrugged. "Just wondering."
*        *        *
        "*Elliot*, this RIPLEY." RIPLEY was the team's radio code name, after 
'Ripley's Believe it or Not.' "Request immediate pickup from primary LZ. Repeat, 
request immediate pickup."
        Lt. Commander Rolondo keyed the mike. "Copy that, Strike Team. *Elliot* 
is sending helo to primary LZ. ETA in twenty minutes."
        "Roger. Warning, the LZ is hot. Hover until we get there."
        "Copy that, Strike Team."
        Rolondo switched off the radio and leaned back. He reached into his 
pocket for a cigar.
        "AREN'T YOU GOING TO TELL THE CAPTAIN TO PICK THEM UP, FOR GOD'S SAKE!"
        Rolondo spun around and stood up as Meg Austin stormed into the comm 
room. Her blue eyes screamed, "danger."
        "Of course, ma'am I was just about to call the bridge..." He spotted the 
Lieutenant's bars on her collar. "Hey, you're just a Lieutenant. You can't give 
me orders!"
        "Tell you what," said Meg. "You don't tell the Captain about me chewing 
you out and I won't tell him about you nearly getting twenty people killed 
because you felt like a cigar." She grabbed said cigar from his pocket. "And a 
Cuban, too. Those are illegal, you know."
        "All right. I'm on my way." Rolondo shook his head. It wasn't going to 
be easy to do his job with her around. At least she'd assumed he was lazy, 
rather than realizing what his real motive was. //This used to be the second 
best investigator in JAG?//
        "I think I'll go with you, Commander. Make sure you don't get 
sidetracked again." //I don't trust this man. The way he "forgot" to mention 
that distress call seemed a little too deliberate to me.//

Chapter 8
        Rabb's team was moving towards the LZ as fast as they could. Everyone 
had their eyes and guns pointed towards the nearest trees, expecting another 
attack. Mulder tried to remember how long they were usually given between 
attacks. A few hours or so, but that was then. The island was an entirely 
different situation. Assuming every human living here had been captured and 
cocooned, there were easily hundreds of Aliens. Far more then on the oil rig. 
And they wouldn't have to climb through that damned maze of metal.
        A shape ran across their path. Harm tracked with his rifle, but Mac 
knocked it aside. Flashlights were switched on, showing why.
        It was a human. A man, about six feet tall. The hair was black and 
unruly, and he obviously hadn't had a chance to shave recently. In his hands was 
a pump action shotgun.
        "Thank God. People." The man's English was flawless, with no 
recognizable accent. "Are you Americans?"
        "Yes. Lt. Commander Harmon Rabb, United States Navy."
        "Oh? SEALs?"
        "You bet your ass!" said Meyers.
        Mulder decided to take over the conversation. "Are you alone out here?"
        "If you mean out here, yes. If you mean on the island, no. There's over 
a dozen of us holed up in that old base over there."
        The entire team exchanged looks. "Take us there!" Harm pulled the short 
range radio off his belt. "Team One this is Team Two. We've found survivors. 
Hold the chopper for us."
*        *        *
        The base looked like any of a dozen military bases they'd seen before. 
With the exception that it was never finished. The twenty foot chainlink fence 
only went three-quarters of the way around. And those three quarters were full 
of sections with acid burns where snooping Aliens had had run ins with the 
barbed wire at the top.
        Only three buildings and what would have been the airstrip had been 
built. There were barracks off on the other side of the compound and a hanger by 
the runway. The third building would have been the main HQ, but it was never 
completed.
        "Where are we headed?" asked Harm. His bet was the barracks.
        "This way." The stranger headed towards the unfinished HQ.
        They entered through the main door. The stranger stopped just inside and 
shined the borrowed flashlight across the threshold, illuminating a thin taunt 
wire strung across. Some old cans were dangling off it. "Our early warning 
system. Since they probably don't know to step over, if they were here the wire 
would be broken. And the cans would rattle, alerting the others."
        "Ingenious," said Mac. There was a touch of sarcasm.
        "Wasn't meant to be groundbreaking, it was meant to be effective." The 
stranger stepped over the knee high wire. "Be careful you don't touch it."
        Harm muttered to Quiddis, "You three stay here," before he stepped over 
after him.
        From there they went through the first floor to the stairway. The 
stranger took a small running start and jumped half the flight down. The others 
merely shrugged and jumped down after him. The stairs U-turned and went down 
another half flight. They jumped that too.
        "You know," said the stranger, "You didn't have to do that. I just jump 
the stairs for the fun of it."
        All four faked a groan and slapped their foreheads.
        They jogged down the next few flights until they hit the bottom level. 
From there they walked down a tunnel that looked rather rough hewn.
        "What is this?" asked Scully.
        "Well," said the stranger, "Back in the sixties there was something 
called the Cuban Missile crisis..."
        "Bomb shelter," said Mac.
        As if on cue they came to a heavy piece of steel blocking the corridor. 
The stranger called out, "Hellllooooo!"
        "Identify," said a voice from the other side of the barricade. It had 
the tinges of a Spanish accent.
        "You know who the fuck I am!"
        "Identity first, then the password!" The voice was barely holding back 
laughter.
        "Burke, Brian."
        "Don Juan de..."
        "Marco," snapped Burke.
        "Polo!"
        "Alright, now open the door!"
        A small opening appeared in the metal plate. A dark skinned man stuck 
his head through, along with another shotgun. "All right, everyone through. 
Quickly, quickly."
        The five crawled through. Five feet from the piece of metal was an 
enormous vault style door. The entrance to the bunker. The darker man spun the 
handle and pulled. "Everyone watch out, now!" The door swung outwards, revealing 
the concrete interior. As they stepped through the entrance, they couldn't help 
but notice the incredible thickness. It had been designed to survive a multi-
megaton nuclear warhead. No doubt it had lived through the Aliens without 
trouble.
        Two people, one with a shotgun and the other with a hunting rifle were 
on either side of the door. Their weapons were pointed, but relaxed when they 
saw that they were humans.
        The count had been accurate. There were about ten or twelve people holed 
up in there. Most had the darker skin and hair common to this region, except for 
one blonde woman sitting against the wall with a machine gun and a bandage on 
her leg.
        "Commander Rabb, meet the survivors of Isla Torento." Burke made a 
sweeping arm gesture. "And a few visitors who happened to get dragged along for 
the ride." He pointed to himself and the blonde woman.
        Scully crouched down by said woman and glanced at the bandage. "Acid 
burn?"
        "Yeah." The woman held out a hand, which Scully shook. "Kathryn Aflon."
        "Dana Scully." Scully unwrapped the previous bandage and checked the 
wound. It wasn't too deep, and it didn't look like any toes had been burned off. 
"Looks okay. You should recover fully except for a scar."
        "I'll add it to the collection. You a doctor?"
        "Yes. I haven't actively practiced in years."
        "Not counting corpses and patching me back together after shoot-outs," 
called Mulder.
        "I'm with the FBI. That's my partner, Mulder." Scully wound a fresh 
piece of cloth around the injured leg.
        "FBI? I figured the military."
        "Well, the others are Navy SEALs. We're just here because we know 
something about the subject."
        "Well, then, Agent Scully. What are we up against?"
        "I think that's a question for Mulder." She shot her partner a "mind 
handling this" look.
        "We know they have acid blood. We know what they look like and how they 
move. I think I may know why they act the way they do. But as for what they 
are...." Mulder shrugged. "I don't have proof, but do you want to hear a 
theory?"
        "Sure," Burke's voice was a surprise, they'd forgotten he'd been 
standing nearby.
        "I think that they're Extraterrestrial Biological Entities."
        "Aliens?" Kath and Burke asked at the same time.
        "I know it's a little off the wall..."
        "Actually," said Burke, "That's not unlike what first ran through my 
head. Actually, I thought they looked like those things from the Sigorney Weaver 
movie 'Aliens.'"
        "Of course!" All four turned to look at Mac, who had wandered over. "I 
thought those things seemed familiar."
        "Hopefully," said Mulder, "When we get back we'll know for sure."
        "Please tell me you aren't planning to bring one of those things back." 
Kath's grip on the large machine gun shifted infinitesimally.
        "No," said Mulder. He shivered at the thought of what those things could 
do if they got loose in a major population center. "Not alive, anyway." A corpse 
couldn't hurt anyone. And he wasn't bringing back a whole body anyway. Just some 
armor fragments.
        "Good." Kath relaxed again. "What would you do with whatever you do 
bring back?"
        "Run genetic tests, find out what it is." Mulder had a gleam in his eye. 
"If it is an alien, the people deserve to know about it."
        "Crap, the way he talks you'd think he was bringing home the cure for 
cancer." Both Mulder and Scully froze at that remark, but no one noticed.
        "Proving the existence of alien life is Mulder's life-long goal," said 
Scully.
        "Not life long," replied Mulder, "Only since I was twelve."
        Harm joined the small group. "The chopper won't wait for us forever, 
people. Can she be moved?"
        Scully remembered that before the conversation got started she'd headed 
over to check Kath's wound. "She'll be fine. You're right. We should leave." 
Scully checked the other refugees with a glance. Three of the twelve were 
children. Two of the other adults had claw wounds that had been bandaged. 
Everyone else had either a shotgun or rifle, except Kath, who had that machine 
gun.
        The door swung open suddenly. A dozen weapons swung to point at...
        Quiddis, Soun and Meyers. "Hey, come on guys! The helo's gonna be here 
soon."
        "What the hell are you doing down here?" Harm asked. "And where's 
Smith?"
        "Frenge showed up and relieved us of door watching duty. Told us to get 
down here and get you. We handed the stiff over to his team."
        "Well, then, sounds like our ride's here." Harm glanced back. "Everyone 
ready to go?"
        Burke nodded. "We've been ready to book out of this hole for days, 
Commander." He turned to the refugees. "Let's move, people!" The population of 
Isla Torento practically ran out the door, carrying the wounded, children and 
weapons.
        "Soun," Scully said, "What if what happened to the last chopper happens 
to this one?"
        The memory flashed through Soun's mind. The Alien attack, the pilot 
being dragged off, the other pilot punching out with an Alien hanging off him. 
The rotors flying off. The helo's engine blowing up. "Ell-tee, we'd better make 
sure that helo isn't sitting there unprotected."
        Quiddis nodded. "Sir?"
        "Agreed," said Harm. He thought back to his pilot days. He wouldn't have 
wanted to be waiting on the ground with those things around. "Mulder, get up 
there and tell the pilot to hover at least thirty feet off the ground."
        Mulder nodded and ran towards the stairs.
        Burke was trading Kath weapons. He hefted the machine gun like a pro, 
and she seemed to carry the shotgun with disturbing familiarity. "Hey, Scully," 
he called, "There's some ammo on the top level. Grab it, would you?" He pointed 
to a nearby ladder."
        "Sure." Scully walked over to the ladder.
        Burke started helping Kath limp towards the stairs. Harm took her other 
arm. As they were leaving he called back to Mac. "Keep an eye on the Fed, would 
you?"
        Mac nodded and went after Scully.
*        *        *
        Mulder came shooting out the front door of the HQ. "Commander Frenge!"
        "Yes, Agent Mulder."
        "You've got to tell the chopper to wait at least thirty feet above the 
ground so it won't be attacked."
        "I already did, Agent Mulder." //What, does he think I'm an idiot? I'm a 
SEAL team Commander!// Frenge thought.
        Mulder relaxed. Then he spotted a smoking hole in the ground. "What's 
that?"
        "We killed one of the fuckers, and its blood burnt it's grave for it."
        "That's right over the bunker!"
        Then they struck. Alien wave two. SEALs fired at the incoming dark 
shapes. It was over quickly, but Mulder was sure he spotted two Aliens drop into 
the hole.
*        *        *
        Scully stepped over the top rung of the ladder. The bomb shelter had the 
strangest design of any she'd ever seen, but she hadn't seen many. The ammo 
should be here somewhere....
        There was a smoking hole in the ceiling. It was matched by a hole in the 
ground, making the cause undoubtable. At the edge of the hole were the acid-
melted remains of a metal box. //The ammo!// "Damn!"
        "What is it?" Mac's voice filtered up from below. She was halfway up the 
ladder.
        "Acid hole. The ammo's gone. I'm coming down." Scully walked back 
towards the ladder as Mac dropped from it to the floor. //I guess the shelter 
wasn't as good as they thought. I guess the designers never considered acid. 
Good thing we're leaving.// Scully glanced over her shoulder at the hole. No 
telling what might have come down it. Good thing there were SEALs topside to 
keep them out.
        Was that gunfire she heard?
        Then a black insectoid shape climbed out of the hole and landed on the 
platform not ten feet from Scully.
        The reaction was instantaneous. Scully's rifle whipped up and three 
rapid shots blew the monster apart. Acid burned through the platform, and it 
buckled as it's structural support was weakened.
        Mac snapped around as the shots rang out in the deserted bunker. The 
hiss of acid and screech of metal made it clear what had happened. "Agent 
Scully! Are you okay?"
        "They're coming through! Get out of here, now!"
        At the same moment Scully's feet hit the top rung of the ladder. Her gun 
was trained on a second Alien that had climbed through the hole, but was, for 
the moment, holding it's distance. In return, Scully held her fire for fear of 
weakening the platform any more. //If I could kill it with as little splatter as 
possible....// She continued to climb down slowly, using her rifle to keep it at 
bay. It obviously understood that the gun was dangerous. How? Mulder's 
suggestion after the last time of telepathic communication came to mind, but was 
quickly squashed. She had better things to do.
        Like try to stay alive.
        There was a large rectangular light fixture hanging from the ceiling. 
//That's a dumb place for it.// Didn't the architect realize that it would be 
shaken loose during a nuclear impact?
        Or the impact of a few 5.56 mm bullets, for that matter. Scully swung 
the rifle up and fired a three round burst. One piece of the light fell past 
her. Mac leaped back to avoid being hit as it crashed by the foot of the ladder.
        Another piece smashed down on top of the Alien. It leaped back, 
snarling. Green, acidic blood flowed from cuts on its head.
        Scully was climbing down the ladder as fast as she could. The Alien was 
charging forward again. //It looks like time's up.// She raised her rifle one-
handed, preparing to fire her final few shots.
        Someone else fired first. A voice yelled, "Scully, look out!" //Major 
McKenzie? What's she still doing here?// Shots whizzed by her head. The Alien 
went down, spilling acid blood.
        Right where the ladder attached to the platform. Scully realized then 
that this was turning quickly into a no-win scenario. With an exasperated sigh, 
she let go of the ladder and jumped the last fifteen feet to the ground.
        Her right foot hit first, but hit wrong. The ankle twisted. Scully fell 
backwards, her eyes tracking the falling ladder and her mind fighting the 
perverse urge to yell, "TIMBER!"
        She didn't spot the jagged piece of broken glass under where she was 
landing.

Chapter 9
        The first gunshots coming from the hole in the ground left no doubt that 
the two Aliens who'd slipped through had run into Scully and Mac. Mulder and 
Harm turned and ran for the HQ main entrance.
        "Where do you think you're going?" said Frenge.
        "My partner's down there!" both replied.
         Three black shapes suddenly shot from the nearest tree through the 
door. Harm and Mulder both stopped suddenly and brought up their weapons, but 
they were already gone.
        "They're in the building!" Their second simultaneous statement in the 
past minute. Neither of them noticed as they ran for the door.
*        *        *
        Scully mustered the strength to open one eyelid. When neither fire and 
brimstone nor the pearly gates greeted her, she decided she was still alive.
        Sharp pains in her leg and arm confirmed this a split second later. 
Scully's medical training came back to her. //Feels like a stab in the right 
leg. Broken glass. In the thigh, off-center. Flesh wound. Probably bleeding like 
a son of a bitch.// She tried moving her head. It ached like crazy, she'd 
probably hit it on the floor when she fell. //The arm feels broken. Shit. Never 
tried putting a splint on myself before. Oughta be fun one handed.// Scully 
turned to look at her left arm. Instead of seeing it bent at an obscene angle or 
buried under debris, it was in a splint. Major Sarah "Mac" McKenzie was tying it 
up.
        Mac looked up from her splinting. "Awake, I see. Ladder fell on your 
arm. It's broken."
        "So I figured. I do have an M.D., remember." Scully mentally chastised 
herself for her attitude. "As long as you're up, I think I may have a laceration 
in my right leg."
        Mac stepped over her and checked. The puddle was as red as Scully's hair 
and spreading slowly under her leg. "Shit," muttered the Marine.
        "Knew it," said Scully. She levered herself up on her good arm for a 
look of her own. Then she stopped suddenly as the headache and dizziness not 
only intensified, they were joined by a new annoyance. "Everything just went 
black and white," she said, squinting her eyes.
        Mac remembered a similar experience up in the Appalachian Mountains, 
from a leg wound of her own. "It's blood loss. I've got to get you bandaged 
while you're still conscious."
        Scully took in her surroundings. "We're still in the bomb shelter?" 
There was an edge to her voice that suggested danger but not fear.
        "Yeah, I figured you shouldn't be moved until I figured out how bad it 
was." Mac got a solid grip on the broken glass buried in Scully's leg. Another 
memory from the Appalachians flashed through her mind, stabbing that poacher 
when he'd attacked her. The blood on her hands. She'd killed before that, she 
was, after all, a Marine. But never that close. And the look in his eyes when 
he'd died. It'd freaked her out a little, but she'd recovered. She tugged on the 
glass. Scully's face scrunched up and she growled in pain. The chunk of glass 
came out, accompanied by an increase in the blood flow. Mac grabbed a bandage 
out of the medkit she'd taken off Scully and slapped it over the wound.
        "While that's usually what I'd recommend, in this case I'd have 
preferred it if you'd carried me back to the helicopter first. Speaking of 
which, how long was I out?"
        "Not very long. The helo's still there. I doubt they'd leave us behind. 
Hell, even when I ask him to leave me behind he still has to try and carry me 
out." Mac stood and extended a hand. "Need help up?"
        Scully shrugged and let Mac haul her to her feet. "I doubt Mulder would 
leave me behind, either. He owes me for pulling him out of the fire so many 
times." Scully threw an arm over Mac's shoulder for support. "I think the door's 
that way."
*        *        *
        Mulder and Harm charged through the door, but then came to a halt. One 
of the Aliens was standing right there. Both snapped their M-16s up and leaped 
back as they fired. Acid splashed around, but the two narrowly avoided injury.
        They resumed their forward charge, leaping over the corroding patch of 
floor. They stopped again and turned in opposite directions to check for the 
other Aliens. No sign of them. Mulder led the way towards the stairs.
*        *        *
        "Holding up, Scully?"
        "Just fine, Major." It was a blatant lie and they both knew it. Scully 
was suffering from blood loss and broken forearm bones. The arm was splinted but 
not in a sling, so she could conceivably fire her rifle, but she wouldn't make 
any bets on her aim. Her SigSacuer pistol was strapped to the back of her waist, 
but previous experience showed that sidearms were ineffective, to say the least.
        Mac and Scully had reached the top of the stairs and were heading 
towards the door when Mac stopped suddenly. She set Scully down against a wall. 
"You've lost a lot of blood, Agent Scully, and you're really slowing me down 
here." Mac opened the medkit and found a bag of blood plasma. "You coherent 
enough to use one of these?"
        Scully grabbed the bag, uncapped the needle and inserted it into a vein 
on her arm. She squeezed the bag gently to force the plasma out. "Thanks."
        The sound of a footfall was heard. Mac raised her rifle in that 
direction and warily called out, "Harm?"
        "Mac!" Harm came running through a nearby door into the room. Mulder was 
right on his heels.
        "Scully!" The FBI agent kneeled next to his partner and glanced at the 
blood on her pants. "That time of month again?" Now that he saw she was out of 
immediate danger, he felt a need to joke.
        "Cork it, Mulder," was the only response he got.
        "How bad?"
        "Not as bad as you were back on the rig. I'm still conscious, but I'll 
have a hell of a time walking or aiming this gun worth shit." Scully raised her 
left arm to show him the injury.
        "Here, throw an arm over my shoulder." Mulder helped her up.
        Harm glanced at his watch. "Can we get going, people? There are still 
two more Aliens in the building, hundreds on this island, and the helo won't 
wait forever."
        Mulder nodded and the group headed towards the door. It was blocked by a 
tall, hissing shape.
        Four assault rifles pointed at the creature in the door, but didn't fire 
yet. Letting loose it's acid blood in the doorway would have a decisively 
negative effect on their exit.
        It took a single step forward, and all four of them fired. The acid 
blood splattered around, melting the doorframe and floor.
        "I guess we find another way out." Harm stated the obvious. "Split up, 
head for the door. Watch out, there's one left in here somewhere."
        Mulder and Scully went right, out a side door. Harm was turning for a 
door to the left when Mac grabbed his arm.
        "Harm, why not go over it?" She pointed at ladder leading into the 
ceiling. The construction workers hadn't cleaned up too well after themselves 
when they'd pulled out all those years ago.
*        *        *
        Mulder's photographic memory and his look at the blueprints back on the 
ship helped he and Scully find the exit quickly.
        Surprisingly, Frenge and the SEALs were still waiting outside.
        "You guys are still here?" Scully raised a questioning eyebrow.
        "They wouldn't let us leave." Frenge pointed towards where Quiddis, 
Soun, Meyers, Clark and Chavez were leaning against the wall.
        "Well, we can't leave just yet. Rabb and McKenzie are still in there."
        "Yeah, well we dropped the civilians off at the helo and told it to 
leave if we weren't there in..." Frenge glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes."
        "How long will it take to reach the LZ at a dead sprint?" asked Chavez.
        "Seven minutes."
*        *        *
        The crawl space between the ceiling of the first floor and the floor of 
the second reminded Harm of the one in "Jurassic Park." Small, dark and 
metallic. He and Mac crawled through it, glancing down any vents they passed.
        When Harm glanced down one, something glanced back. He barely had time 
to jerk away as the head of the third Alien crashed through the vent. It's 
clawed hands grabbed the inside of the crawl space and it snarled right at Harm. 
He and Mac both raised their weapons, then lowered them. They'd both be killed 
in the acid spray.
        Harm reached for the knife in his boot when the thing grabbed him by the 
shirt and started to drag him down. Mac charged (crawled, really) forward and 
grabbed the alien by the head. Her reward was a hit in the gut from its tail. 
She held tight, grabbed its chin with one hand and the long crest with her 
other. She twisted sharply.
        They were lucky. It had vertebrae, and when she twisted its head they 
broke, and severed it's spinal cord. The Alien died instantly of a broken neck.
        They let the body fall. There was no blood, so they dropped down after 
it. "The door's this way," Harm pointed.
        They ran.
*        *        *
        Out front, Frenge's patience and time was up. "Look, if we want any of 
us to get off this island, we will have to go soon."        Quiddis, Clark and 
company were shocked. What happened to "never leave a man behind"? Although even 
SEALs had to think realistically now and then.
        Harm and Mac came charging out of the door. "Sorry we're late," said 
Mac. "Had a run in with Alien number three."
        "So I guess that's not Commander Rabb's drool on your shirt," said 
Mulder.
        Mac glanced down. There *was* some of the Alien's drool on her shirt, 
and more on Harm's. "No, it's not." Her voice was instantly hard-edged.
        Mulder shrugged.
        "Alright, SEALs!" Frenge yelled at the team. "Let's go. We're going to 
have to run to the chopper."
*        *        *
        They emerged running into the clearing. The Blackhawk helicopter was 
hovering thirty feet off the ground. As soon as they came into view, it began to 
descend.
        Dozens of black shapes ripped through the foliage after them.
        The SEAL team turned and fired back. Soun blasted away with his SAW, the 
way it mowed down the incoming probably gave it its name. The others fired the 
M-16s. Aliens fell, more were there to take their place.
        Mulder fired at two of the incomings. One went down, but his gun ran out 
of ammo before he could hit the other. He ejected the clip, thankfully it worked 
this time. He took another from his belt pouch and snapped it into the rifle. He 
glanced up. It was close. Too close.
        Half a dozen bullets tore up the ground just to the left of it. Mulder 
heard Scully curse her injured arm and turned to see her shift her aim and fire 
again. It hit this time.
        Mulder raised his rifle and began firing again.
        One of the SEALs let an attacker get in too close before he killed it. 
The acid splattered over him and he collapsed, screaming.
        Another turned to look at his screaming comrade and an Alien grabbed 
him. He yelled as well as it dragged him off.
        The team backpedaled as they fired, moving towards the helicopter at a 
slow but steady rate. The aircraft was still hovering, ready to drop when the 
team was near.
        Four Aliens charged in a tight pack. A launched grenade from Meyers' 
rifle exploded in the center of them, killing all four in a small explosion.
        The helicopter began to lower, reaching the LZ at the same time as the 
SEALs. Mulder was about to hop in when he realized that with the refugees, there 
wasn't room for the SEAL team.
        "Shit!"
        Rabb glanced back and saw it too. He turned to Frenge. "There isn't room 
in the chopper for everyone."
        Frenge's face clouded over, but he didn't stop firing. "So, what do you 
you suggest we do?"
        "We could do it in two trips." Frenge and Harm both turned to look at 
Clark. "Send the civilians back, then have the chopper come back and get us."
        "All right," said Frenge. "Do i-" An Alien leaped at him. Frenge, Harm 
and Clark jumped out of the way as they shot it, narrowly avoiding the acid 
blood.
        "Do it! And make it fucking quick!" Harm needed no second urging. He 
headed back to the chopper's front end.
        "Listen up. I want you to take the civilians back to the *Elliot*, then 
come back here and get us."
        "With all due respect, sir, no can do. Lt. Austin said she'd tear me a 
new asshole if I came back without you."
        Harm grinned. That sounded like Meg, all right. "Tell Meg I'm going over 
her head. I'm ordering you to go back and tell her I'm ordering her to leave 
your ass alone. A shot to the head is acceptable, though, so don't forget to 
come back and get us."
        Mulder nosed in on the conversation. "When you get back, I need these 
people isolated and CAT scans run. I want to make sure they aren't breeding 
anything." Mulder's comment could have meant a virus, but Harm knew he meant 
that they might have Aliens growing inside them.
        "Aye, sir." The pilot frowned at the strange order. "Sir, there's room 
for a few of you in the back...."
        Mulder nodded. "I'll try to convince Scully to get on." //Is it even 
worth trying, though? You know how tenacious she is.//
        He decided it was worth a shot. Speaking of shots, the gunfire had 
ceased. The SEALs were standing around, sweeping the empty field. The attack had 
been driven off.
        "Scully...." he started as he walked over.
        "I know Mulder. There isn't room for us on the chopper." Scully 
shrugged. "We'll wait for the next one."
        "Scully, there are a few seats left on the chopper. I want you on it."
        She shot him the look, and cut him off before he could continue. 
"Mulder, you know me better than that."
        "Look, Scully," Mulder wanted to get his partner and friend off this 
island of hell. Now he had to rationalize it scientifically enough to convince 
her. "You're injured. If I was injured, you'd force me to get on that 
helicopter."
        Scully sighed. He had a point. But she wasn't about to leave *her* 
partner and friend here, either. "I'll go if you do."
        Mulder shrugged. He guessed he could live with that. Besides, it wasn't 
like he was a vital part of the team. The SEALs didn't need any help profiling 
the things now. They knew what they were dealing with.
        "You're going back anyway, Mulder," Harm said as he butted in on them. 
"Civilians first, and you qualify."
        Mulder sighed and threw an arm over Scully's shoulder to help her limp 
to the helicopter.
        Then it struck.
        The Alien charged fast at one of the SEALs. He turned to fire at it, but 
it struck him first, knocking him to the ground. The monster opened its mouth 
and its second set of jaws lashed out and crunched down on the hapless soldier's 
face. His scream was cut short.
        Harm and Mac pumped shots into the Alien. It fell to the ground, but 
between the crushing of the skull and the acid blood, the SEAL was beyond help.
        More struck. The SEALs fired, but they were blindsided. The Aliens 
attacked from the opposite side of the chopper than the one the SEALs were on.
        There was a long burst of machine gun fire. Burke had opened up on the 
attackers. Shotgun blasts filled the air as the other refugees added their fire, 
and two Marines also on board fired their M-16s.
        Harm waved to the pilot to take off. "Go! Go!" The pilot needed no 
further urging, and the aircraft lifted off the ground. Mac dove to her stomach 
and fired under the rising chopper at the Aliens' knees.
        Burke and the refugees continued to provide cover fire, but his gun was 
soon out of ammo. The shotgun fired stopped because the range was too great for 
an accurate shot.
        The Marine's continued to provide fire from their M-16s, but the chopper 
was leaving fast. It was pointless trying to help anymore.
        The team was on its own.
        //Like hell!// Burke clawed his way forward to the cockpit and took his 
ID from his pocket. His military ID.
        "All right, Lieutenant. We're going back for one more pass." Burke 
showed the pilot his ID.
        "Aye sir!"
        The helo swung around and went back. In the clearing they'd left twenty 
seconds earlier, thirteen people stood their ground, firing at dozens of 
charging dark shapes. The Aliens were steadily advancing, they couldn't be held 
off forever.
        Especially since the ammo would only last so long.
        The nose of the helicopter angled downward and a mini-gun slung under 
the nose fired into the Aliens.
        The pack began to break up, then regrouped and began charging again.
        "What else have you got?" Burke could see the mini-gun wasn't enough.
        "Nothing, sir. All we brought was the main gun and the Marines." The 
pilot fired again into the pack. Again it broke up, then tried to regroup and 
charge again.
        "Sir," said the copilot, "We only have enough fuel to stay here another 
minute if we want to make it back to the *Elliot*."
        "Actually," said the pilot, "We could hook up the auxiliary tank."
        "Auxiliary tank?" Burke punched the floor plating. "All right, take us 
over them one more time. Make it count." Burke climbed back to the other 
refugees. "Grab the backup tank, and any Styrofoam you find."
        One of the survivors pointed to a twenty gallon drum. The others 
scratched their heads. Styrofoam?
        "Forget it, Brian," said Kath, "We don't have time to make homemade 
napalm."
        He shrugged and hauled the fuel drum towards the open door. The mini-gun 
was cutting into the Alien pack, adding to the rifle fire from the team. They'd 
be passing over the pack soon.
        "Flare gun," Burke said, holding out his hand like a surgeon. Kath 
slapped it into his hand. "Tell me," he said, "Ever see the movie 'Courage Under 
Fire'?"
*        *        *
        The team had given up on standing their ground, and fired as they ran. 
The only problem was that the Aliens ran faster.
        The helicopter's return broke up the charge long enough to buy them a 
few more yards, as did the second pass.
        The helicopter flew overhead a third time, raking machine gun fire into 
the creatures. //I wonder how long they can keep this up,// thought Mulder. 
//Enough passes and we might actually get away.//
        During this pass, M-16 and shotgun fire added to the chopper's 
firepower. But the clincher was a dark object that fell from the back of the 
aircraft into the pack.
        It was followed half a second later by a miniature fire streak.
        "Missile" was the first thing that occurred to them, but it was Mac who 
realized what it was first. A flare.
        The flare caught up with the fuel a split second after it reached the 
ground. The flammable petroleum product instantly turned itself into a fireball.
        The helicopter flew home to the *Elliot*, but they would be back.

Chapter 10
        Scully hauled herself of the ground with her one good arm. Between her 
arm injury and her bad leg, she was less than successful. Mulder had managed to 
pull himself up and offered her a hand. She swallowed her pride and accepted it.
        The first thing they noticed was the massive fire burning in the center 
of the field. Burke had aimed his flare just right, taking out the main body of 
the Alien pack and scattering the others. Mulder added a note to his constantly 
updated Alien profile: Aliens hate fire.
        The Aliens had been using abnormally primitive strategy, just charging 
like that. But their numbers had been enough to overwhelm the SEAL team before 
very long.
        And who wasn't to say that more hadn't been coming around from behind? A 
giant pincer, with one side taking the hits while the other jumped them. Mulder 
shook the question off. It no longer mattered.
        "We should control that fire," said Frenge. "Use it to keep them back."
        "Well then, Commander, your team should start gathering rocks." Harm 
turned towards the direction of the village. "We'll find the fuel."
*        *        *
        The first place they went when they returned to the village was the gas 
station. It was a crater, destroyed when the Aliens had first attacked the 
island.
        Next, they went to the local bar. Most of the people had come running 
out of it when the fighting started, so it was relatively unscathed.
        Mulder, Harm and Mac searched the small building quickly. Harm found a 
bottle of heavy liquor under the bar and handed it to Mulder. "To sterilize 
Agent Scully's wounds." He turned to Mac. "How are you holding up?"
        "Fine, Harm." She went into the back.
        Mulder thought he was just asking how she was, usual conversation 
between partners. But the timing was odd. Then he remembered. Recovering 
alcoholic.
        Mac came back out of the back with a crate of beer. //Seems Commander 
Rabb's worries were justified.// Mulder decided to wisecrack. "Hey, Major, I 
know it's Marine tradition, but now really isn't the time."
        She shot him a nasty look. "It's for the fire, Agent Mulder." She swung 
her head to glare at Harm, who was chuckling. "And it wasn't that funny."
        "Suit yourself." Harm was halfway to the door when Mulder stopped him.
        "Let me check something first." Mulder went up to the door and pointed 
his rifle upwards, then fired. After three shots he leaped backwards. Acid blood 
splattered on the ground outside the door, followed by a dead Alien.
        "There's always one on the roof...." muttered Harm.
        Another Alien appeared at the door. Mulder fired again, and it dropped. 
A scaly shape came crashing through a nearby window. Harm dropped it with five 
automatic shots.
        "We're surrounded!" Mac set the crate on the bar and raised her own 
rifle.
        Then the wall came crashing inward and something very big came through.
*        *        *
        Scully had been basically left behind at the fire with the SEALs. She 
was understandable unhappy with the arrangement.
        //Dammit, Mulder, I may be injured, but I'm not invalid! I damn well 
intend to stay near my partner.//
        With her limp slowing her down, though, she couldn't keep up with Mulder 
and the JAG officers. Then she spotted something that the others had missed. 
There was an old pickup truck sitting by the side of the road. Scully couldn't 
believe Mulder had missed it. //Maybe he just didn't realize its usefulness.// 
The driver's side door was open, the vehicle's occupants probably abandoned it 
and ran during the attack.
        Scully climbed in and found the keys in the ignition. She turned it and 
the engine started up with a cough. She used the foot on her bad leg to hit the 
gas and the truck lumbered off after the others.
        Scully caught up to them at the bar. There were half a dozen Aliens 
outside.
        Shots from inside took out the one on the roof over the door. Scully 
literally put the pedal to the metal and aimed dead at the nearest Alien. It 
turned to see the truck coming too late. The bumper nailed it in the midsection 
and it flew over the hood at the windshield. Scully turned left sharply and the 
Alien smashed the glass on the passenger side before falling off onto the ground 
below.
        Another Alien next to the door was hit from inside. Scully took the 
wheel in her left hand, ignoring the protests from her broken wrist. Her right 
raised the assault rifle and fired through the hole in the windshield. She 
couldn't get much accuracy one handed, but one of the Aliens went down.
        Another of the creatures jumped through the window into the bar. Scully 
hoped those inside got it before it got them.
        There was no chance she could stop the truck outside and get inside fast 
enough. And if she did, they'd never make it back to the truck before the Aliens 
got to it. That left one option, and she prayed to God that it would work.
        She aimed the truck at the wall of the building. Just before impact she 
hit the brakes and ducked below the dashboard. The truck smashed through the 
cheap construction work, and two by fours smashed through the windshield. //Good 
thing I ducked.//
        As the truck smashed into the bar, Mulder dove out of the way. It 
skidded to a stop in the middle of the room. Scully pushed the boards out of the 
cab and stuck her head out the window. "Need a lift?"
        Mulder picked himself off the floor and ran around to the drivers side 
and opened the door. "Thanks, Scully. Scoot over, would you?" Scully obliged and 
Mulder hopped behind the wheel.
        Harm and Mac put the crate on the back of the truck and hopped on with 
it. Mulder hit the gas and the truck shot through the other wall. Bereft of half 
its support structure, the building collapsed behind them.
        The Aliens were hot on their heels as soon as they came out. Harm and 
Mac fired back at the charging creatures, dropping both of them.
        There was a thump on Scully's door and she looked out in time to see a 
snarling Alien looking back at her.
        She barely had time to duck as its inner jaws lashed out and snapped 
shut where her head had been.
        Quicker than she'd ever thought she could move, her right hand grabbed 
the the second mouth before it could retract. //It got sloppy, left it hanging 
where I could grab it.//
        The thing slashed her arm with its clawed hand, causing her to lose her 
grip and her advantage. She retaliated by grabbing her rifle and swinging it up 
like a baseball bat into the things jaw. It's head snapped back and it fell all 
the way back out the window. Its hands, however, continued to grip the window 
sill and its feet stayed planted on the running board.
        Scully grabbed her pistol off her belt and fired at point blank range 
into first one hand, then the other. The Alien lost it's grip and fell off.
        With a sigh of relief, she stuck the SigSauer back it its holster and 
picked her rifle back up. She glanced at Mulder, to find he was paying no 
attention at all to the road. He was pointing the rifle, one handed, at the 
window. "I'm fine, Mulder. Watch the road."
        Mulder let out his own sigh of relief and lowered the gun. He returned 
his gaze to the road, but pulled the liquor bottle out of his pocket and handed 
it to Scully. "Here."
        "Trying to tell me something, Mulder?" Scully stared at the bottle with 
a bemused expression.
        "Disinfectant, Scully. Also, we're out of morphine."
        "When did we run out of morphine?"
        "When somebody dropped a medkit full of glass bottles off a ladder," 
threw in Mac, sticking her head in through the back window. "The LZ's up ahead, 
could we hurry, please? I'd rather not get there and find a camp full of 
corpses."
        The memory of a few times that had happened in the past made Mulder 
shiver, and put more pressure on the gas pedal.
*        *        *
        The camp was still there when they arrived, and the fire still burning. 
The SEALs had been busy, placing a circle of rocks around the flames and using 
bayonets attached to their rifles to clear away the area around it. They'd also 
made a ring around the large fire with two lines of stones, and were now placing 
brush and branches in it. The idea had been Clark's, make a wall of fire to keep 
the Aliens off.
        They'd know how effective it was soon.
        Mulder parked the truck a good ways away and the foursome hopped out, 
Harm and Mac carrying the crate.
        There was a three feet wide opening in the "firewall" which would be 
used to enter and exit. Soun's SAW and Meyers' grenade launcher would be set up 
there to keep off unwanted guests.
        The second Soun spotted the crate of beer, he ran over. Quiddis grabbed 
him by the collar. "You're on a mission, Soun."
        "I wasn't going to drink it, ell-tee. Give me some credit. 'Sides, I owe 
you enough beer in side bets you'd probably get the whole crate!" The two SEALs 
laughed at the inside joke. Soun had a habit of betting a few beers with Quiddis 
and then making sure he lost to boost morale.
        Harm and Mac, meanwhile, were pouring the beer on the wood piles to help 
it ignite easier. Mulder decided that now was as good a time as any to do 
something he should have done some time ago.
        Two members of Frenge's team had been medics. One was dead, the other 
was helping to haul firewood. Mulder found him and asked him to take a look at 
Scully's leg wound.
        Scully herself was on watch, covering the nearby treeline with her rifle 
in case of another attack.
        When Mulder and the medic found her, she took one look and guessed what 
they wanted. "The answer is no, Mulder."
        "Scully, be reasonable. You need to have that leg checked out. And you 
need a better job on that arm." Mulder was about to continue with a "you'd make 
me if the situations were reversed" speech like he'd used back when he'd tried 
to get her onto the chopper, but she held up a hand.
        "Oh, that. I thought you were going to come on to me. Sure, whatever." 
Scully limped along between the two, chuckling at her ill-timed humor. 
//Turnabout's fair play.//
        The operation consisted of Scully lying on her stomach while the medic 
removed the old bandage, swabbed the wound with liquor to disinfect it, and- 
giving Scully a swig of the drink as a painkiller- stitched it up. She kept a 
tight grip on Mulder's hand, squeezing whenever it hurt (and a few times when it 
didn't, just for fun). Mulder was the first one to yell.
        Clark and Chavez watched and thought it was hilarious.
        "Get used to it," said Clark, "You're going to go through that every 
minute for several hours at a time if you ever have kids. Trust me, I've had 
three."
        Chavez grunted. "I'd better get ready. I'm going to be going through 
that before too much longer."
        "Oh, so now you not only plan to marry my daughter, you plan to knock 
her up, too?" Clark grinned to show he was jesting.
        "Hey, Mr. C. You want grandkids or not?"
        "God, there's a morbid thought. I may be a grandfather soon and I'm 
still running round the world with a gun in my hand."
        "Excuse me," said Mulder, "But if you're going to make fun of me could 
you at least pop this bone back into place?"
        The pair of CIA operatives laughed their heads off, and Scully popped 
the bone back into place. "Least I could do," she said, "I did dislocate it."
        "At this rate, we're going to get each other killed within a month," 
Mulder muttered.
        "Get each other killed or kill each other?"
        "Both."

Chapter 11
        Around this time, they lit the fire wall. One of the SEALs tossed a 
marker flare into the circular pile of wood and alcohol, and it immediately 
ignited. The marker flare was green, so the flames had a greenish tinge.
        Frenge shrugged. "It'll pass. And in the meantime, maybe it'll be so 
strange that it'll scare 'em off."
        "Or maybe they understand that we're giving them a green light," said 
Mulder.
        It was only then that the question on everyone's mind was raised. "Why 
the hell hasn't the helo come back for us yet?"
        Harm shrugged. As the only pilot in the group, he was the one to ask on 
the subject. "Maybe they didn't make it back. Maybe it's just taking a while to 
get it ready again. Maybe they're waiting until daylight."
        "Maybe," said Mulder, "One of those things got on board. In one of those 
people, maybe. And the reason the *Elliot* isn't sending help is because they 
sunk it like they did the *Prometheus*."
        "It's possible," said Quiddis, "The reason we had to wait for a new 
helicopter last time was because if we called the *Elliot* in closer and swam 
over, they'd probably swim over with us."
        "I'm trying to keep morale from getting lower than a Russian's paycheck, 
and you aren't helping." Harm shook his head. "Any other possibilities?"
        "One more," said Frenge. "I haven't been able to raise the *Elliot* for 
a while, they might think we're dead."
        "Well, then we just inform them of their error," Mac said.
*        *        *
USS ELLIOT
HOURS EARLIER

        As the helicopter touched down on the back of the *Elliot*, Meg Austin 
felt a sense of relief. She knew she was probably making a nuisance of herself, 
but she was off duty and if she wanted to watch the helicopter with her friend 
on board land, she could.
        The helicopter door opened and a tall man with dark hair climbed out. 
Meg didn't recognize him as a member of the team. He helped a blond woman with a 
bandage on her leg climb out and handed her over to a waiting medic. There had 
only been two women on the team, and neither had been blond.
        //These people must be survivors from the island. So where's the team?//
        A full dozen people were offloaded and handed over to the medics and 
Marines. No sign of the team. Meg walked over to the pilot, who was talking to 
the deck crew. "I need my bird refueled and rearmed as soon as possible."
        "Lt. Parker!" Meg stepped in. Parker was a Lt. jg, so she was his 
superior.
        "Ma'am!" Parker snapped to attention. //I'm dead. Maybe if I'm lucky 
she'll make it clean. I wonder what it'd be like to be a petty officer again.//
        "Where's the team, Lieutenant? You were ordered to airlift a SEAL team 
out of a hot LZ." Meg's face was stone, but her stomach turned. Her friend and 
former partner, where was *he*?
        "Ma'am, I'm really sorry. Commander Rabb's team found civilian survivors 
and there wasn't room in the chopper for everyone, so we decided to make two 
trips. But we've got to hurry, they were under attack."
        "And you left? Your helicopter was equipped with a mini-gun...." Meg 
didn't blame the pilot, but she wanted to know why he didn't try to help.
        "It's not his fault, Lieutenant Austin." Meg spun around to face the man 
who'd been first off the chopper. "Brian Burke," he identified himself. "I was 
one of the survivors. We were low on fuel. We made a few strafing passes, and 
used the spare gas tank to bomb 'em, they should be okay. We need to hurry. But 
we also need to be careful. How long do you suppose it'd take to get a new 
chopper if we lose this one?"
        "Too long," said Meg. She turned to the deck crew. "Get this helo combat 
ready. You have ten minutes, tops. I'll get authorization from the captain." She 
headed towards the door. Burke followed her.
        "Mind if I come along?" He showed her his military ID.
        "No, sir!" She snapped to attention and was halfway through a salute 
when he stopped her.
        "Times kinda short. Lead the way to the bridge please, Lieutenant."
        She shrugged and lead the way. They sprinted there.
*        *        *
        Captain Kane O'Byrn felt a lot of tension ease when that helo landed. He 
had been friends with Bill Scully, so when Bill's daughter had shown up on his 
ship twice in a row and gone into dangerous missions with SEALs, it worried the 
hell out of him. And both times he was glad to see them return. //At least there 
were no complications this time. The chopper didn't blow up. And my dead 
friend's daughter is safe.// O'Byrn set down his cup of coffee. He wouldn't need 
it now. He could get some sleep.
        There were running footsteps, and a blond woman in khakis can charging 
in and skidded to a halt in front of him. Following her was a man in civilian 
clothing, but judging by the tears and bloodstains, he'd just come from the 
island.
        "Sir!" Both people said and snapped to attention. Now that the woman had 
stopped moving, he recognized Lt. Austin. //Figures.// The man didn't look like 
either Commanders Rabb or Frenge, who should have been here to check in if they 
returned unharmed.
        "At ease, Lieutenant. Who's this?"
        Burke flashed his military ID for the third time that night. On it was 
written "Major Brian Burke, Special Assault/Recon Division." And a note that he 
had access level 10.
        "Major Burke, sir. I was vacationing there, just passing through, 
really. I'm one of about a dozen people who are the sole survivors of Isla 
Torento."
        O'Byrn looked at Austin.
        "That's who was aboard the chopper, sir. Commander Rabb sent the 
civilians back first because there wasn't room for everyone. We need to go back 
for the team."
        "Sir!" All three turned to see Lt. Cdr. Rolondo enter the room. "I just 
got a message from Commander Frenge. I taped it, you might want to hear this."
        Rolondo led Captain O'Byrn, Meg and Burke to the comm room. He went over 
and stuck a tape in and hit play.
        "USS Elliot, this is strike team. We're under attack. Repeat, we are 
under attack." Gunshots in the background. Screams. An explosion. "We've been 
massacred. There's only five of us left. The Feds and those JAG officers are 
gone, so's Quiddis' team." Meg stifled a gasp. Harm, dead? Shit. More gunfire 
and a long, loud scream. "Make that four. I suppose some of them might only be 
injured, but it's looking hopeless. We're pinned down. I'm planning to let them 
get in close, then set off my grenades. Don't give up on us just yet, but if you 
don't hear from us, don't send rescue. They were good warriors all, but they're 
gone...." The signal ended in static.
        "I just got this right before I came up to the bridge, sir. I'm sorry." 
Rolondo hung his head.
        Burke looked at Rolondo and squinted his eyes. Something didn't feel 
right. He had a feeling of deception. Rolondo raised his head and their eyes 
met. //Now I'm sure of it.//
        "Keep listening, Commander," said O'Byrn. "Inform me if you hear 
anything." O'Byrn left the comm room, Meg following close behind. Burke shot 
Rolondo one last "I know and now you know I know" look before he followed.
*        *        *
(Authors Note: To the best of my knowledge, there is no such thing as a Special 
Assault Recon Unit or UEDC. It's a story, and making up government organizations 
is X-Files style. Just thought I should mention that since JAG and Clancy fans 
will be expecting accurate military info.)
*        *        *
THE OFFICER'S MESS
0013 HOURS

        Meg Austin drank another beer. It was how one in the military handled 
losing a fellow officer. You drowned your sorrows. And she didn't have to worry 
about being drunk on duty tomorrow, Captain O'Byrn had given her the day off. 
"Since you knew Commander Rabb and the other JAG officers better than anyone 
else on board, you'll probably want to inform his family and CO," he'd said. 
Then he'd mention knowing Dana Scully's father, and Scully herself. "I have the 
unhappy duty of telling Mrs. Scully that she's lost her last daughter."
        She and Harm had been best friends as well as partners, and they'd 
briefly been lovers. For a year they's worked side by side, saving each other's 
asses more times than she could count, at least while drunk, anyway. Why was it 
she could survive getting shot in the back of the head at point blank range, but 
he couldn't make it off that island. Was it some sort of twisted luck?
        //Don't think about that,// her alcohol slowed mind told her, //Or 
you're going to wind up feeling guilty for stuff that isn't your fault.//
        That time she'd been shot in the head by the assassin Hemlock, Harm had 
felt some guilt for not being there. But he'd ruthlessly hunted down and killed 
Hemlock, and been there when she woke up. They had been partners, they'd watched 
out for each other.
        She had gotten drunk, truly blitzed, a handful of times. This was the 
first time while at sea. She hoped fleetingly that her dinner tasted as good on 
the way up as down.
        Burke walked into the mess and spotted her drinking over in the corner. 
How she got into the liquor stash was a mystery to him, the enlisted men usually 
didn't let officers in on such things. Especially since they'd probably be 
saving it for the wake, if there was one, which probably wouldn't be for a week.
        He took the seat next to her. "You trying to get reprimanded, Lt. 
Austin?"
        "I'm not on duty tomorrow. And since everyone's heard by now that my ex-
partner's dead, I'm catching some sympathy." Meg took another swig of beer.
        "I'm not so sure he's dead," said Burke.
        "I'm not sure either. But I'm going to get drunk now, just in case." Meg 
finished the beer and opened another bottle.
        Burke glanced at the three unopened beer bottles left. At least she 
couldn't get too drunk. But he'd best keep her hangover headache to a minimum. 
"Can I have one of those?"
        Meg shrugged and slid one over. "Trying to deplete my supply, Major?"
        "You'll thank me when you have less of a headache in the morning."
        "Is that a sexually tilted line? Should I give you a yellow light? Or 
maybe a green?"
        "No to all three questions. I'm committed."
        "Oh? Which asylum?"
        Burke laughed. "No, I mean I have a girlfriend. Funny, we got together 
through circumstances not unlike this. She was drunk, I carried her home. She's 
a blonde, too. She's down in sickbay right now, having her leg checked out." 
Burke took a drink.
        "Sounds like a nice girl. What's she do for a living?"
        "The same thing I do. She's my partner."
        Meg damn near did a spit take. "Doesn't the Special Assault/Recon have a 
problem with that?"
        "Who says they know?" Burke looked her straight in the eyes. "Rumor has 
it you have some familiarity with the subject."
        "And you believe rumor?" //Does he know?//
        "A gut feeling, as well. The way you behave about each other. I didn't 
know Commander Rabb... Harm... long, but he had that look when your name was 
mentioned." Burke took another swig. "Am I right?"
        "Yes." Meg lowered her head. "You're the second person to figure out 
about that, the other learned as it happened."
        "Yeah, well I love a good mystery." Burke plucked the beer bottle from 
Meg's hand. "What do you know about Special Assault/Recon?"
        Meg made a playful grab for the bottle and missed. "They're not really 
military, but part of the QED... I mean GMC.... I mean UEDC." She was drunker 
than she looked and sounded.
        "Yup. The United Earth Defense Corps. All the UN's best defense 
organizations. You remember Operation DARK MATTER?"
        "Never heard of it." Meg narrowed an eye suspiciously.
        "Good, you're still coherent enough to deny black ops. I was on the 
backup team for that op. We didn't get there in time to help, but we did the 
clean up. You and Rabb did good work."
        Meg made another grab for the bottle. He let her catch it. "Whatever."
        "I have very good reasons to suspect Rabb's still alive. And I plan to 
rescue him tomorrow. But I need you clearheaded for that. That means you need to 
go to your quarters and sleep." Burke folded his arms across his chest. Judging 
from the half dozen empties she was already looking at a killer hangover, it was 
highly alcoholic beer and she had low body weight.
        Meg was listening intently. "If there's a chance he's alive, I don't 
need to get drunk anyway." Meg put the bottle down and stood up.
        Burke also stood up and put one of Meg's arms over his shoulder. "Come 
on, Meg. I'll help you back. But I'm not sleeping with you." He grinned.
        "Damn. And I had such high hopes."
        As they left, Burke glanced over his shoulder at the galley chief. "You 
can have your booze back, Chief. Better hide it fast, or we'll have a shitload 
of drunken sailors on our hands."
        The Chief chuckled as he watched the two leave.
*        *        *
BACK ON ISLA TORENTO
SOON TO BE RENAMED ISLA INFIERNO (HELL ISLAND)

        The SEAL team bedded down for the night. There were sleeping bags in 
their packs, and the fires kept things plenty warm. Two SEALs stayed up and 
watched the entrance, Soun's SAW mounted on a bipod and ready to fire at a 
moment's notice.
        The other eleven slept, or tried to. Their weapons were within easy 
reach. Some obvious groupings appeared in their sleeping arrangements. Mulder 
slept not far from Scully, Harm not far from Mac.
        Mulder stared up at the stars. Beautiful things, stars. Lots of people 
wrote about them. Mulder felt that good could come from the stars. 
Unfortunately, so did evil. The Reticulans, these things.
        //Will the fire really keep them back?// Mulder hated fire, but he took 
comfort in this one. //If it does keep them back, how long will it last?// 
Mulder could only do his best to sleep, and be ready should they be attacked. 
How long did they have before they attacked again? No way of knowing.
        For what felt like the millionth time, he wondered how he kept dragging 
Scully into this kind of crap. No time to think about it, he was drifting off to 
sleep....
*        *        *
        He was only asleep a few hours when he was snapped awake. He sat up. The 
fire was out. All the fires were. Mulder turned his head to the right.
        There was a severed arm lying there.
        Mulder leaped up off the ground and grabbed his rifle. They were here.
        Since when was the barrel of his gun bent at a ninety degree angle?
        Mulder tossed the useless weapon away and picked up another, the chewed 
hand still tangled in the trigger guard. The barrel of this one was melted by 
acid.
        Yet another useless gun tossed. A quick survey of the area showed dead, 
mutilated corpses. Quiddis, Frenge, Soun, Meyers, Rabb, McKenzie, Clark, Chavez, 
the medic, two others. Eleven in all. There had been thirteen of them.  Subtract 
one for him and you left one unaccounted for. Scully.
        He turned his head to the left where she'd been laying. She was there. 
He dropped to his knees next to her.
        Blood flowed from a dozen wounds. Her right arm was *gone,* it lay a few 
feet away gripping the M-16.
        But she was alive. Just barely.
        "Mulder... Mulder, how could you...."
        "How could I what? What happened?"
        "How could you... bring it here... and kill us all...."
        Mulder didn't understand. He'd brought the Aliens here?
        Then his eyes fell upon the sample bag. It was ripped open, and it 
looked suspiciously like it happened from the inside.
        //I brought it here. I intended to use the samples to prove 
extraterrestrial life, but I killed all these people instead. My quest for the 
truth has led to their deaths. I killed them.// He looked at Scully. //I killed 
her....//
        The snarling screech snapped him out of his angst. He turned to see the 
Alien. Huge, vicious, ugly, deadly. Destroyer, butcher, killer, monster. The 
thing that had killed his best friend.
        He wanted nothing in the world as much as he wanted to kill it.
        Every gun in the camp was destroyed, either bent or melted. A glance 
accounted for all twelve M-16s, and the SAW. The grenade launcher was smashed.
        Mulder grabbed for the grenades on his belt, but they were gone. His 
hand snapped reflexively to his side for his Smith & Wesson, but he had lost it 
before coming here.
        Scully had a pistol. Mulder dove for her body, but the monster got there 
first, placing one foot on her neck.
        It was choking her, crushing her windpipe underfoot.
        Bastard.
        Mulder dove at it. He hit and bounced off with no effect. He punched it 
in the face, once, twice, dozens of times. His hands were bloody. The creature 
didn't even twitch. He could have punched a marble statue and gotten more 
effect.
        "Dammit! Why don't you kill me!" He had struck the Alien for five 
minutes straight, but it hadn't hit back.
        The creature just lowered it's head to stare at his stomach. Mulder 
looked down and realized what it meant.
        A lump appeared in his stomach, then disappeared. And again. And again.
        There was one inside him.
        There was no time for any more thought on the subject. Blood appeared on 
his shirt, and then a head ripped its way out.
        Mulder could do nothing but watch. The Alien turned and looked him 
straight in the eye. There was a split second of understanding. He *understood* 
that this thing only existed to destroy and to breed more to destroy more. It 
*understood*  that he understood.
        Then it lashed out suddenly, its jaws closing around his face, giving 
him a good view of its throat as he died.
*        *        *
        Mulder snapped awake with a shock. He glanced around. Everything seemed 
fine. The fires burned, the SEALs slept.
        He heard Scully's voice, "Rough nightmare?"
        The worst he'd had in years. But all he said was, "Yeah."
        "Does he do this often, Agent Scully?" muttered Harm.
        "You know, I am here. You could ask me." Mulder laid back to try and 
return to sleep. Not likely. He'd volunteer for the next watch. "Or are you on a 
fishing trip, counsel?" Mulder stressed the last word to remind those 
participating in what was soon to be an argument that Harm was a lawyer. "Next 
you're going to ask about natural hair colors."
        "What do you mean by that, shrink?" Harm hadn't even considered asking 
if the two shared a bed. Mulder had misinterpreted the question, which Harm 
chalked up to the other's psychology degree. "I just wanted to know if you were 
going to keep waking us up. You seem a little touchy on the subject. Hiding 
something?"
        "Objection. Badgering the witness." Heads turned. Mac had jumped in.
        "Oh, so you're defending him?" Harm wondered how this got started. They 
needed sleep so they could get the hell off this island tomorrow.
        "I like him." The Marine was also wondering, about how she could end it.
        "You seem a bit aggressive on the subject, Commander. Something you're 
hiding? The jarhead or the blonde?"
        "WHAT!!!!" This was from Mac, surprisingly.
        Harm was frozen for a second. He had once slept with Meg Austin, who'd 
been his partner at the time. How had Mulder even gotten an inkling? He decided 
to cover with a smartass comment. "Gee, Mac, from your reaction you'd think I 
looked like Frenge over there."
        This one was met by a simultaneous "HEY!" from Frenge and laughter from 
everyone else.
        Mac rolled her eyes. "I have strict rules about fucking my coworkers."
        "Only on Tuesdays?" said one of the SEALs.
        "You know, I have a gun."
        Dead silence.
        "Anyway," said Mac, "I'm a little cranky because two idiots are arguing 
over who *hasn't* fucked who and it's keeping me awake!"
        "That was just for fun."
        "Excuse me," said Harm, "But can we just settle the matter? Mulder, if I 
ask you a question, will you answer truthfully?"
        "Of course."
        "Have you ever slept with your partner?"
        "I have never had sex with Dana Scully, no."
        Harm shrugged. "Then it's settled."
        "Not quite. Have you ever slept with your partner, Commander?" Mulder 
wanted to win this argument and go to sleep. But he wanted to win the argument 
more.
        "I have never had sex with Sarah McKenzie. Satisfied?"
        "Is that the only partner you've ever had?"
        Harm froze. Mulder had guessed about Meg, and wanted to bring it out so 
he could win the ego fight.
        But there wasn't a chance for that to happen. Frenge's voice cut in. 
"All right, since you two obviously aren't going to give this up, I'm breaking 
it up. Rabb, Mulder, since you two seem determined to stay awake and have woken 
the rest of us up, you can take this watch."
        Both grumbled as they climbed out of their sleeping bags and walked over 
to the "entrance," where the SAW was set up. They also had their rifles and Harm 
had his sidearm, so there was enough firepower to keep some nasty intruders 
back.
        They sat, watching, for half an hour in silence. Then, when everyone 
else was asleep, Harm decided to find out a question that had been annoying him 
since the argument.
        "Mulder, how did you know about me and Meg?"
        Mulder shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I didn't. The possibility 
crossed my mind, your reactions filled in the blanks."
        "What do you mean 'the possibility crossed your mind?'"
        "Well, I noticed in your file that you two had an excellent solve rate, 
but your partnership was broken up after only a year. Something must have 
happened. She transferred to the *Elliot*, so it's possible that she just got an 
offer for a good position and took it. But that Hemlock incident's on file, so I 
doubted it. That suggested either a falling out or intervention from higher up."
        Harm nodded. He'd always worried about that particular paper trail of 
deductions, but it wasn't really worth worrying about. "And from there you went 
to a hop in the sack?"
        "I actually didn't think about it until I saw you on the *Elliot*. I 
accidentally spied you in some less-than-platonic activities, and that got me 
thinking."
        "Which activities would that be?"
        "Take your pick. Let's just say Scully would never let me kiss her like 
that." //And that's why I'll never be in your shoes. She wouldn't let me.//
        "Oh? And how would she let you kiss her?" Harm grinned. Mulder'd left 
himself wide open for that shot.
        "In my dreams. In a comforting, platonic manner. Probably on the 
forehead."
        "Copy that." Harm sighted along the SAW barrel, tracking and searching 
for movements. Nothing. "The way it happened with me and Meg, well we were good 
friends. Dropped some wisecracks and flirts, but nothing major. I was attracted 
to her... I mean, you've seen her. I guess she was attracted back. This one 
time, we came back from a dangerous mission. Someone who worked with us got 
killed, and so we were a bit down. And then it happened." Harm reached into a 
pocket and withdrew a cigar. He'd brought one along, but this was the first time 
he felt like smoking it. He held the tip in the fire to light it. "I never 
thought that sort of stuff happened, but one night we just did it. And so we 
started making a habit of doing it."
        "And you got caught." It wasn't a question.
        "Yeah. Admiral Chegwidden noticed something different about how we were 
acting around each other, so he called us in on it. We tried everything from 
subtle manipulation of words to outright lying, but eventually he got it out of 
us. So he split us up. Meg had been offered a position at sea, along with a 
promotion, so she took it. The Admiral kept the real reason under wraps, so we 
just continued our careers."
        "But," said Mulder, "Once you were in different chains of command, you 
could have continued seeing each other legitimately."
        "We didn't get too many chances to see each other. She was at sea, I was 
traveling all over, investigating and prosecuting." Harm took a puff on the 
cigar. He knew the things were dangerous, but so was his line of work. It was 
cigars and not the even deadlier cigarettes, and he kept his usage down. And 
most importantly, they were part of his fighter pilot image. //I should still 
quit. Aw, screw it.//
        "You know," said Mulder, disturbing Harm's thoughts, "You can go to 
sleep. I'll man the gun, and I'll never get back to sleep after that nightmare 
anyway."
        "Bad one?"
        "Just your typical 'wake up and find everyone dead' dream."
        Harm shrugged. He'd had his share of bad dreams. "You might as well. I 
couldn't see the bad guys coming with this night blindness, anyway."
        Mulder nodded. Poor bastard. Mulder didn't think he could ever let them 
force him into a desk job. "You ever miss flying?"
        "Only every day of my life. I still manage to get in some flight time 
here and there, but...." Harm shrugged. "What can I say? It's not the same."
        Mulder grunted as he took Harm's place at the SAW. "I know the feeling. 
I could never be dragged away from the X-files. Look on the bright side. There 
are more pilots to take your place, but it's just me and Scully snooping around 
the mysteries of the unknown."
        "Mulder?"
        "Yeah?"
        "Shut up and let me go to sleep."
        "Whatever."
        Twelve people slept as one stood awake to guard against the evil that 
surrounded them.