Title: Blessed Union of Souls II: Deep Water 15/17
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Category: SRA
Rating: R for language, adult situations
Spoilers: Through Season Six
Keywords: M/S UST, S/Other Romance
Summary: Sequel to "Not the Doctor." Their partnership on shaky ground, Mulder
and Scully are called in to investigate the mysterious death of two teenagers in
a Hawaiian cave. While exploring the crime scene and its vicinity, they are
trapped by a cave-in. Will they be able to find their way out--without killing
each other first?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and no
profit is being made.
*****
Blessed Union of Souls II: Deep Water
by Somogyi
somogyi02@yahoo.com
Epilogue Part 1
And you try to find yourself
In the abstractions of religion
And the cruelty of everyone else
And you wake up to realize
Your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive
Mulder did not hear the knock at first. His attention was focused on one of the
maps that were strewn across the desk in his hotel room. He had been
scrutinizing this particular sketch for the past half hour, but to no avail: it
was not giving him the information for which he was searching.
It was only when the knock was repeated more insistently that he finally noticed
the noise.
Uncurling his body from the hunched-up position in which he had been sitting,
Mulder stood up and tossed his glasses onto the pile of papers. As he made his
way over to the door, he stretched his arms and bent his head this way and that
to get the kinks out of his neck.
When he opened the door, his visitor greeted him with a familiar easy-going
smile.
"Hey, G-Man, what's up?" Even in the casual attire of a tee-shirt and jeans, the
athletic build and confident stance made the man's military training
unmistakable. The obvious five o'clock shadow--and perhaps the cocky, rebellious
glint in his eye--was the only hint that he was not a spit-and-polish soldier
from one of the more illustrious branches of the armed forces, but rather a
rough-and-tumble commando well-versed in the arts of unconventional warfare.
"Hi, Socks," Mulder replied, shaking the other man's proffered hand. "Thanks for
stopping by." He stepped back, and gestured for the SEAL to come inside.
"No problem. I headed over just as soon as I got your message." Socks looked
around as he entered. Taking in the size and splendor of the room, he whistled
in admiration. "So this is how the other half lives. Obviously you Feds get
better treatment than us military grunts."
Mulder chuckled. "Hardly. Believe me, this is the exception to the rule. It's
only because the father of one of the victims in the case we were sent here to
investigate owns the place. Otherwise, I'm sure we'd be staying in Hawaii's
version of Motel 6."
"Compared to some of the places I've had to sleep in my lifetime, Motel 6 would
be like staying in a penthouse suite."
Socks' attention was then drawn to the desk, and the piles of papers that were
scattered across its surface. Walking closer, he saw maps of the island of Nihau
and of the Lehua Caves, tourist brochures on the Hawaiian Archipelago, type-
written police reports, and a number of crime scene photographs. Off to one
side, next to the laptop whose keyboard was partially covered by paperwork, was
a tray from room-service with a meal that was only half-touched.
"Been busy I see," Socks remarked, picking up a brochure for a closer look.
"I've been going over these maps, trying to figure out where we were when the
cave-in separated us from Scully and Riskey--specifically, where the tunnel was
in relation to the cave entrance. Unfortunately, not much has been documented in
regards to charted pathways in the Lehua Caves. It would appear that most of
what was known about those tunnels died with our guide, Uncle Stu."
Mulder shook his head sadly at the recollection of Stu's untimely death. Feeling
partly responsible, Mulder had insisted to Detective Agbayani that he would
inform Stu's brother about the unfortunate accident himself. Stu's younger
sibling had taken the news surprisingly well; he seemed oddly comforted by the
fact that Stu would spend all eternity within the stony caverns to which he had
devoted his entire adult life and about which he could never stop talking
passionately. 'Maybe he'll finally meet one of his beloved Kahunas,' the brother
had said.
The sound of Socks' voice brought Mulder out of his reverie. "And you're looking
for this information why?"
Pushing away any lingering feelings of guilt, Mulder instead focused on the task
at hand. "Agent Scully and I were sent to Hawaii to investigate the mysterious
death of two teenagers," he explained as he rifled through his piles of papers.
"It seems the kids were wandering around the caves near the entrance when
something killed them--incinerated the flesh right off of their bones." He
handed Socks a photo from the crime scene.
The SEAL took it, stared at the image of two skeletons laying side-by-side on
the cave floor. Aside from a small frown, Socks' face betrayed no other emotion
at the gruesome sight of the victims' remains. There was little doubt that he
had seen far worse during his years as a soldier, that he had learned to harden
his heart to such horrendous sights. He wordlessly handed the photo back to
Mulder.
"How long were they missing before their bodies were discovered?"
"Less than twenty-four hours."
Socks scowled in disbelief. "No way is that possible. It'd take months for those
bodies to completely decompose."
"Well, Scott Robinson and Kilikina Ainalani were each seen alive and well by
members of their respective families several hours before they went missing. And
their remains were discovered early the next morning," Mulder said, gesturing to
the photo. "What's even more bizarre is the fact that their backpacks were found
against one of the cave walls, with not a singe on them."
"That's wild, man," Socks said, slowly shaking his head. "But what does it have
to do with the cave-ins or our little journey through the cave?"
"I think that canister you and your team were sent to retrieve is what killed
those kids."
For the briefest of moments, Socks' eyes registered his surprise. But just as
quickly, the reaction was gone, his expression once more nonchalant. "I don't
know what you're talking about," he said, crossing his arms. "Who said anything
about a canister?"
"Drop the cloak and dagger bullshit, Socks, because I'm really not in the mood,"
Mulder snapped. "Your commander already told Scully that the object was a
canister, and that it showed up on the government's sensors two nights before we
all met up in the caves--the same night Scott and Kilikina died. I believe in
coincidences as much as the next guy, but I've also been in this business long
enough to recognize when something is not due merely to chance. You said
yourself that the canister seemed to be the source of the cave-ins. If it was
able to cause all those quakes, I think it was powerful enough to kill those
kids."
This time Socks did not bother to hide the incredulous look from his face.
"Generating an explosion or a concussive blast that pulverizes rock is one
thing. But how could the same device do that to those kids' bodies?"
"I was hoping you could tell me," Mulder said with a small grin. "You're
probably much more up to speed on the latest in military technology."
"You're a real piece of work, you know that, G-man?" Socks chuckled. "You know I
can't discuss that kind of info--not even with a Fed."
"I'm not asking for details about the mechanisms. I just want to know if the
technology is even feasible."
Socks hesitated.
"Off the record," Mulder amended. "Just between you and me."
Socks sighed heavily. "Off the top of my head, I can think of at least a dozen
weapons in various stages of development that could cause the cave-ins. There
are a probably at least a dozen more that require higher clearance than my rank
allows. But none of 'em can melt the flesh off of bones. That sounds more like a
biological weapon. And even those would leave evidence--either on the skeletons
themselves, or the nearby surroundings."
"Is it possible for the two types of devices to be packaged together in a single
device?"
"Doubtful. I would think the components of each would be unstable, that the risk
of one affecting the other, or of setting off both, would be astronomically
high."
"So what you're telling me is that there's no device known to man that could be
responsible for both the manner in which those kids died and the cave-ins?"
Socks was silent a moment, considering. Finally, he shook his head. "To the best
of my knowledge, no, there's no such animal."
Mulder nodded, a small, knowing smile creeping across his face. "That's what I
thought you'd say."
"I don't get it, Mulder. If the technology doesn't exist, then isn't your whole
theory blown?"
"Not necessarily. Maybe the effects we witnessed were not due to man-made
technology at all."
"What, then?"
"Scully suggested that perhaps there was some sort of volatile chemical reaction
going off in the canister."
"In which case, the canister may be some sort of biological or chemical weapon?"
"That's what Scully thinks, yes."
"But you've got your own theory?"
Mulder nodded. "I agree it's likely that there was some sort of reaction going
on in the canister. But I don't think it was intended to occur. I think that
initially the canister was placed somewhere in the cave near the entrance,
perhaps to hide it. But around the time the kids entered the cave for their
little midnight tryst, the canister got damaged. Maybe whoever put it there
heard the kids coming, had to bee-line it out of there to avoid being
discovered, and didn't have enough time to secure it. Or maybe it had been
sitting there a long time unnoticed, but the kids managed to knock it over--say
when things started getting hot and heavy.
"Regardless of how it happened, the seal on the canister was broken. And
whatever it was housing must have been an unstable substance. I think that
whatever this substance was, it mixed with something in the cave environment
that served as a potent catalyst. Maybe it was the oxygen in the air, the
humidity, Kilikina's perfume, Scott's raging hormones--hell maybe it was the
goddammed bat guano or even a lingering Kahuna cave spirit."
Socks rolled his eyes. "I don't have to be a chemist to know you're reaching."
"I know, I know. But just bear with me a moment, will you?"
Grinning despite himself, Socks nodded for Mulder to continue.
"Let's just say that something in the cave interacted with the canister's
contents, and together they created a substance capable of turning those kids
into a couple piles of bones. But it didn't end there. In fact, maybe it was
just an intermediate stage of the reaction that made it capable of incinerating
flesh--otherwise, wouldn't we have met the same fate when we got close to it?
"Anyway, the reaction continued, perhaps changing from a substance
capable of melting only organic material to one able to eat through solid rock.
The canister fell deeper into the cave, eventually ending up near the ledge
where you later discovered it on your sensors. And while it was there, it
continued the irrevocable chemical reaction that had begun near the cave
entrance. Only by then it was transformed into a product that was capable of
producing explosive force. This product was the source of the cave-ins that we
all witnessed during our various hikes through the caves. Until, ultimately, one
of the blasts it created buried it beneath tons of rock."
As Mulder concluded his narrative, Socks' brow furrowed. He looked over at
Mulder thoughtfully. "That's all well and good. Heck, it would make for one hell
of a sci-fi flick. Only problem is, there is no such chemical known to man."
"No chemical known to or made by *humans*, you mean."
The room fell silent as Socks tried to make sense of Mulder's statement. At
first, he thought Mulder had been correcting him for not using a more P.C. term
that included the fairer sex. But then, as he recalled what he had recently
learned about the nature of the cases Mulder and his partner investigated, it
became suddenly apparent that the agent had been referring to _Homo sapiens_ as
a species.
For several moments, Socks stood staring at the maps as he pondered the
implications of Mulder's latest theory. Then, as Socks lowered his head, his
shoulders slowly began to shake. Before long, he let loose with a loud, raucous
peal of laughter.
"Oh, that's rich, man. That is so rich." He ran a hand across his mouth as he
tried to quell his chuckles. "You really think that some little green men left
that canister in a Hawaiian cave?"
Mulder forced a smile. "I don't know who placed it there, or for what reason,
but whatever's in it--I don't think that substance is of earthly origin. I know
you have no reason to believe me, Socks. But if you had seen all the things I've
witnessed over the years, you'd--"
"Hey, hold on a sec," Socks said, holding up a staying hand. "I never said I
didn't believe you. As far as I'm concerned, without the actual canister to
analyze, your explanation is no more right or wrong than your partner's or
anybody else's."
This time it was Mulder's turn to stare at Socks incredulously. "You're kidding
me, right? You're not dismissing my theory right off the bat as--"
". . . completely out there?" Socks suggested. "Hell, man, it sure as hell beats
the idea that some terrorists or right-wing extremists put it there." Chuckling,
he gave Mulder a friendly slap on the back. "I'll just bet that Scully usually
gives you hell for all this alien talk."
"How'd you guess?"
"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that you and your partner exchange a
healthy dose of differing opinions."
Mulder had to smile at the accuracy of Socks' assessment. "That's putting it
mildly."
"So does Scully think you're totally off your rocker for what you're proposing
about the canister?"
"No more so than usual. As I've come to expect, she refuses to commit to any
particular explanation without definitive scientific proof. Which is actually
where you fit in."
"Me?" Socks looked utterly taken aback. "What the hell do I have to do with
anything?"
"Well, when that canister was buried, so were our chances of ever proving what
happened to those kids. But with your help, I think I can make a decent case for
my theory."
"Okay, Mulder--I'll bite. How do you think I can help your cause?"
"Did you bring the data I asked for?" Mulder asked, walking back toward the
desk.
"Yup."
"Well, where are they?" Mulder asked, looking at the empty-handed SEAL
expectantly.
"Right here," Socks said, tapping his temple with his index finger. "Anything
you need to know is stored in the ole noggin'."
"You're kidding, right? You've memorized the coordinates for our little hike in
the cave?"
Socks laughed. "You forget that I'm usually the point man for Team Alpha. I
can't very well carry around and refer to a cheat sheet when rappelling down a
cliff, deep-sea diving, or trudging through a muddy jungle in the dead of night
in the midst of pouring rain. And believe me, RB'd have my hide if I led us in
the wrong direction."
"Yeah, but couldn't you have brought a print-out of the data your tracker
collected during your mission?"
"That data is no longer in my hands. Besides the fact that technically the info
you're asking about is classified."
Mulder had been afraid of this. Fearing the worst, he had been prepared to
accept that the commander's admitting to Scully that the object was a canister
might be the extent of the information revealed by the members of Team Alpha.
"I understand," Mulder said, reaching for one of the many charts that littered
the desktop. "How good are you at reading maps?"
"I'd say I can hold my own," Socks said, walking closer. "And since I just so
happened to look over all the data the tracker compiled before my team's
debriefing, and since I just happen to remember the coordinates, I don't really
see the harm in taking a look at these maps and maybe pointing to some landmarks
here and there."
Mulder smiled. "Socks, buddy, you are the man."
"And don't you forget it." He picked up one of the maps. "So, what exactly is it
you want to know?"
"The location of the canister when it registered on your tracker in relation to
where the bodies were found."
"Oh, is that all?" Socks dead-panned as he began to scrutinize the maps more
closely. Sitting down behind the desk, he continued to examine the various
sketches and charts, attempting to correlate the memorized coordinates with the
ink drawings. Mulder stood by watching patiently, until Socks was finally ready
to announce his conclusions.
"To the best of my knowledge, I'd say that the crime scene is located only about
a hundred feet above the ravine where the canister lit up the tracker's
sensors," Socks said. "Maybe there was another sink hole around that it fell
through."
"Or maybe it made its own path for the journey through the rock."
"Maybe," Socks conceded. He ran a hand across his short-cropped, curly black
hair. "Anything else I can help you out with?"
Mulder thought a moment. "Not really--unless you can tell me what was in that
canister, who wanted it, and for what purpose."
Socks grinned as he got to his feet. "Sorry, man. No can do. I'm just a lowly
Lieutenant. You want any more info, you need to hassle someone with more
security clearance--like RB."
"That's okay. I think I should probably quit while I'm ahead," Mulder muttered.
"Thanks for all your help, Socks," he said, holding out his hand.
"Sure thing," Socks replied, shaking it. "So now we even for my slugging you?"
"No problem," Mulder said, clearing the papers off of the laptop. "I should
probably be thanking you for knocking some sense into me."
"Yeah, well, don't kick yourself about it. Life-threatening situations tend to
bring out the worst in all of us."
"Except for those of us who thrive on them," Mulder mumbled.
"Come again?"
"Nothing," Mulder told Socks as he opened a file on his computer. He was
relieved to find that Socks let the subject drop.
"So, you think the close proximity of the crime scene and the canister will help
your investigation?"
"We'll see what happens when my boss reads the case report."
"Think this info will at least help convince your partner about the link between
the deaths and the canister?"
"Maybe. I'll have to run it by her tomorrow, during the plane ride back to D.C."
"I take it she's not as into this whole alien canister theory, huh?"
"No, I think pondering the true nature of a mysterious, unknown chemical of
purported extraterrestrial origin is probably about the furthest thing from
Agent Scully's mind tonight."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should follow her lead. If this is your last night in
Hawaii, you sure as hell shouldn't spend it cooped up in a hotel room, buried
beneath a stack of papers. You're staying on an island paradise. You should get
out there and enjoy it."
"I've never really been a big fan of the beach."
"You suits work too hard," Socks chastised with a disappointed shake of the
head. He glanced at his watch. "Ah, geez, I need to get going."
"I'll walk you out."
"Man, this Robinson Resort is the way to go," Socks remarked as they made their
way to the door. "You must have an awesome view of the ocean."
"I guess," Mulder shrugged.
Socks glanced past him, saw that the drapes on the far wall were drawn. His eyes
swept once more across the room, passing over the cluttered desk and half-eaten
meal. As they came to rest once more on Mulder, Socks took note of the subtle
slouching of his shoulders, the downtrodden cast of the other man's eyes.
"Thanks again," Mulder said, opening the hotel room door.
"My pleasure," Socks replied as he began to leave. He was part-way through the
doorway when he turned back. "Hey, Mulder, I'm on my way to meet Toller at this
beach-side bar. You wanna join us for a beer?"
For a moment, Mulder seemed to consider the idea. "Thanks, but I think I'll
pass."
"C'mon, man--you look like you could use the fresh air."
"Like I said, I'm not a big beach fan. Besides, I need to finish up my report."
"All right. Suit yourself. We'll probably be there for a while. If you change
your mind and decide to join us, it's called Pacific Spirits."
"Will do."
"You take care of yourself, G-man."
"You too, Socks. Good-night."
With a final nod and a smile, Socks took his leave.
Closing the door, Mulder made his way back across the room. He had been headed
for the desk, but stopped instead in front of the drapes. He reached for the
cord, slowly pulled them apart, revealing full-length glass doors. Unlocking
them, he stepped outside onto the balcony. He walked over to the steel railing
and gazed out at the long strip of beach. The sand glistened almost white in the
bright light cast by the moon. He could practically taste the mild, salt-filled
breeze as it blew past, its feather-light touch calm and soothing on his skin.
Mulder watched as a young couple strolled by hand-in-hand below him. The woman
pushed her wind-tossed golden tresses out of her eyes as the man bent closer to
whisper to her. She smiled, and they laughed happily as they continued down the
beach. Mulder gripped the railing tightly even as a shiver ran through him.
With a weary sigh, he turned away and walked back inside. He locked the door and
drew the drapes before sitting back down at the desk. Moving the computer
closer, he found himself staring at the screen. It was a good hour before he
finally began to type.
End Epilogue Part 1
*****
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Category: SRA
Rating: R for language, adult situations
Spoilers: Through Season Six
Keywords: M/S UST, S/Other Romance
Summary: Sequel to "Not the Doctor." Their partnership on shaky ground, Mulder
and Scully are called in to investigate the mysterious death of two teenagers in
a Hawaiian cave. While exploring the crime scene and its vicinity, they are
trapped by a cave-in. Will they be able to find their way out--without killing
each other first?
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other characters
associated with the series are the property of Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions, and the Fox Network. Characters are used without permission and no
profit is being made.
*****
Blessed Union of Souls II: Deep Water
by Somogyi
somogyi02@yahoo.com
Epilogue Part 1
And you try to find yourself
In the abstractions of religion
And the cruelty of everyone else
And you wake up to realize
Your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive
Mulder did not hear the knock at first. His attention was focused on one of the
maps that were strewn across the desk in his hotel room. He had been
scrutinizing this particular sketch for the past half hour, but to no avail: it
was not giving him the information for which he was searching.
It was only when the knock was repeated more insistently that he finally noticed
the noise.
Uncurling his body from the hunched-up position in which he had been sitting,
Mulder stood up and tossed his glasses onto the pile of papers. As he made his
way over to the door, he stretched his arms and bent his head this way and that
to get the kinks out of his neck.
When he opened the door, his visitor greeted him with a familiar easy-going
smile.
"Hey, G-Man, what's up?" Even in the casual attire of a tee-shirt and jeans, the
athletic build and confident stance made the man's military training
unmistakable. The obvious five o'clock shadow--and perhaps the cocky, rebellious
glint in his eye--was the only hint that he was not a spit-and-polish soldier
from one of the more illustrious branches of the armed forces, but rather a
rough-and-tumble commando well-versed in the arts of unconventional warfare.
"Hi, Socks," Mulder replied, shaking the other man's proffered hand. "Thanks for
stopping by." He stepped back, and gestured for the SEAL to come inside.
"No problem. I headed over just as soon as I got your message." Socks looked
around as he entered. Taking in the size and splendor of the room, he whistled
in admiration. "So this is how the other half lives. Obviously you Feds get
better treatment than us military grunts."
Mulder chuckled. "Hardly. Believe me, this is the exception to the rule. It's
only because the father of one of the victims in the case we were sent here to
investigate owns the place. Otherwise, I'm sure we'd be staying in Hawaii's
version of Motel 6."
"Compared to some of the places I've had to sleep in my lifetime, Motel 6 would
be like staying in a penthouse suite."
Socks' attention was then drawn to the desk, and the piles of papers that were
scattered across its surface. Walking closer, he saw maps of the island of Nihau
and of the Lehua Caves, tourist brochures on the Hawaiian Archipelago, type-
written police reports, and a number of crime scene photographs. Off to one
side, next to the laptop whose keyboard was partially covered by paperwork, was
a tray from room-service with a meal that was only half-touched.
"Been busy I see," Socks remarked, picking up a brochure for a closer look.
"I've been going over these maps, trying to figure out where we were when the
cave-in separated us from Scully and Riskey--specifically, where the tunnel was
in relation to the cave entrance. Unfortunately, not much has been documented in
regards to charted pathways in the Lehua Caves. It would appear that most of
what was known about those tunnels died with our guide, Uncle Stu."
Mulder shook his head sadly at the recollection of Stu's untimely death. Feeling
partly responsible, Mulder had insisted to Detective Agbayani that he would
inform Stu's brother about the unfortunate accident himself. Stu's younger
sibling had taken the news surprisingly well; he seemed oddly comforted by the
fact that Stu would spend all eternity within the stony caverns to which he had
devoted his entire adult life and about which he could never stop talking
passionately. 'Maybe he'll finally meet one of his beloved Kahunas,' the brother
had said.
The sound of Socks' voice brought Mulder out of his reverie. "And you're looking
for this information why?"
Pushing away any lingering feelings of guilt, Mulder instead focused on the task
at hand. "Agent Scully and I were sent to Hawaii to investigate the mysterious
death of two teenagers," he explained as he rifled through his piles of papers.
"It seems the kids were wandering around the caves near the entrance when
something killed them--incinerated the flesh right off of their bones." He
handed Socks a photo from the crime scene.
The SEAL took it, stared at the image of two skeletons laying side-by-side on
the cave floor. Aside from a small frown, Socks' face betrayed no other emotion
at the gruesome sight of the victims' remains. There was little doubt that he
had seen far worse during his years as a soldier, that he had learned to harden
his heart to such horrendous sights. He wordlessly handed the photo back to
Mulder.
"How long were they missing before their bodies were discovered?"
"Less than twenty-four hours."
Socks scowled in disbelief. "No way is that possible. It'd take months for those
bodies to completely decompose."
"Well, Scott Robinson and Kilikina Ainalani were each seen alive and well by
members of their respective families several hours before they went missing. And
their remains were discovered early the next morning," Mulder said, gesturing to
the photo. "What's even more bizarre is the fact that their backpacks were found
against one of the cave walls, with not a singe on them."
"That's wild, man," Socks said, slowly shaking his head. "But what does it have
to do with the cave-ins or our little journey through the cave?"
"I think that canister you and your team were sent to retrieve is what killed
those kids."
For the briefest of moments, Socks' eyes registered his surprise. But just as
quickly, the reaction was gone, his expression once more nonchalant. "I don't
know what you're talking about," he said, crossing his arms. "Who said anything
about a canister?"
"Drop the cloak and dagger bullshit, Socks, because I'm really not in the mood,"
Mulder snapped. "Your commander already told Scully that the object was a
canister, and that it showed up on the government's sensors two nights before we
all met up in the caves--the same night Scott and Kilikina died. I believe in
coincidences as much as the next guy, but I've also been in this business long
enough to recognize when something is not due merely to chance. You said
yourself that the canister seemed to be the source of the cave-ins. If it was
able to cause all those quakes, I think it was powerful enough to kill those
kids."
This time Socks did not bother to hide the incredulous look from his face.
"Generating an explosion or a concussive blast that pulverizes rock is one
thing. But how could the same device do that to those kids' bodies?"
"I was hoping you could tell me," Mulder said with a small grin. "You're
probably much more up to speed on the latest in military technology."
"You're a real piece of work, you know that, G-man?" Socks chuckled. "You know I
can't discuss that kind of info--not even with a Fed."
"I'm not asking for details about the mechanisms. I just want to know if the
technology is even feasible."
Socks hesitated.
"Off the record," Mulder amended. "Just between you and me."
Socks sighed heavily. "Off the top of my head, I can think of at least a dozen
weapons in various stages of development that could cause the cave-ins. There
are a probably at least a dozen more that require higher clearance than my rank
allows. But none of 'em can melt the flesh off of bones. That sounds more like a
biological weapon. And even those would leave evidence--either on the skeletons
themselves, or the nearby surroundings."
"Is it possible for the two types of devices to be packaged together in a single
device?"
"Doubtful. I would think the components of each would be unstable, that the risk
of one affecting the other, or of setting off both, would be astronomically
high."
"So what you're telling me is that there's no device known to man that could be
responsible for both the manner in which those kids died and the cave-ins?"
Socks was silent a moment, considering. Finally, he shook his head. "To the best
of my knowledge, no, there's no such animal."
Mulder nodded, a small, knowing smile creeping across his face. "That's what I
thought you'd say."
"I don't get it, Mulder. If the technology doesn't exist, then isn't your whole
theory blown?"
"Not necessarily. Maybe the effects we witnessed were not due to man-made
technology at all."
"What, then?"
"Scully suggested that perhaps there was some sort of volatile chemical reaction
going off in the canister."
"In which case, the canister may be some sort of biological or chemical weapon?"
"That's what Scully thinks, yes."
"But you've got your own theory?"
Mulder nodded. "I agree it's likely that there was some sort of reaction going
on in the canister. But I don't think it was intended to occur. I think that
initially the canister was placed somewhere in the cave near the entrance,
perhaps to hide it. But around the time the kids entered the cave for their
little midnight tryst, the canister got damaged. Maybe whoever put it there
heard the kids coming, had to bee-line it out of there to avoid being
discovered, and didn't have enough time to secure it. Or maybe it had been
sitting there a long time unnoticed, but the kids managed to knock it over--say
when things started getting hot and heavy.
"Regardless of how it happened, the seal on the canister was broken. And
whatever it was housing must have been an unstable substance. I think that
whatever this substance was, it mixed with something in the cave environment
that served as a potent catalyst. Maybe it was the oxygen in the air, the
humidity, Kilikina's perfume, Scott's raging hormones--hell maybe it was the
goddammed bat guano or even a lingering Kahuna cave spirit."
Socks rolled his eyes. "I don't have to be a chemist to know you're reaching."
"I know, I know. But just bear with me a moment, will you?"
Grinning despite himself, Socks nodded for Mulder to continue.
"Let's just say that something in the cave interacted with the canister's
contents, and together they created a substance capable of turning those kids
into a couple piles of bones. But it didn't end there. In fact, maybe it was
just an intermediate stage of the reaction that made it capable of incinerating
flesh--otherwise, wouldn't we have met the same fate when we got close to it?
"Anyway, the reaction continued, perhaps changing from a substance
capable of melting only organic material to one able to eat through solid rock.
The canister fell deeper into the cave, eventually ending up near the ledge
where you later discovered it on your sensors. And while it was there, it
continued the irrevocable chemical reaction that had begun near the cave
entrance. Only by then it was transformed into a product that was capable of
producing explosive force. This product was the source of the cave-ins that we
all witnessed during our various hikes through the caves. Until, ultimately, one
of the blasts it created buried it beneath tons of rock."
As Mulder concluded his narrative, Socks' brow furrowed. He looked over at
Mulder thoughtfully. "That's all well and good. Heck, it would make for one hell
of a sci-fi flick. Only problem is, there is no such chemical known to man."
"No chemical known to or made by *humans*, you mean."
The room fell silent as Socks tried to make sense of Mulder's statement. At
first, he thought Mulder had been correcting him for not using a more P.C. term
that included the fairer sex. But then, as he recalled what he had recently
learned about the nature of the cases Mulder and his partner investigated, it
became suddenly apparent that the agent had been referring to _Homo sapiens_ as
a species.
For several moments, Socks stood staring at the maps as he pondered the
implications of Mulder's latest theory. Then, as Socks lowered his head, his
shoulders slowly began to shake. Before long, he let loose with a loud, raucous
peal of laughter.
"Oh, that's rich, man. That is so rich." He ran a hand across his mouth as he
tried to quell his chuckles. "You really think that some little green men left
that canister in a Hawaiian cave?"
Mulder forced a smile. "I don't know who placed it there, or for what reason,
but whatever's in it--I don't think that substance is of earthly origin. I know
you have no reason to believe me, Socks. But if you had seen all the things I've
witnessed over the years, you'd--"
"Hey, hold on a sec," Socks said, holding up a staying hand. "I never said I
didn't believe you. As far as I'm concerned, without the actual canister to
analyze, your explanation is no more right or wrong than your partner's or
anybody else's."
This time it was Mulder's turn to stare at Socks incredulously. "You're kidding
me, right? You're not dismissing my theory right off the bat as--"
". . . completely out there?" Socks suggested. "Hell, man, it sure as hell beats
the idea that some terrorists or right-wing extremists put it there." Chuckling,
he gave Mulder a friendly slap on the back. "I'll just bet that Scully usually
gives you hell for all this alien talk."
"How'd you guess?"
"It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that you and your partner exchange a
healthy dose of differing opinions."
Mulder had to smile at the accuracy of Socks' assessment. "That's putting it
mildly."
"So does Scully think you're totally off your rocker for what you're proposing
about the canister?"
"No more so than usual. As I've come to expect, she refuses to commit to any
particular explanation without definitive scientific proof. Which is actually
where you fit in."
"Me?" Socks looked utterly taken aback. "What the hell do I have to do with
anything?"
"Well, when that canister was buried, so were our chances of ever proving what
happened to those kids. But with your help, I think I can make a decent case for
my theory."
"Okay, Mulder--I'll bite. How do you think I can help your cause?"
"Did you bring the data I asked for?" Mulder asked, walking back toward the
desk.
"Yup."
"Well, where are they?" Mulder asked, looking at the empty-handed SEAL
expectantly.
"Right here," Socks said, tapping his temple with his index finger. "Anything
you need to know is stored in the ole noggin'."
"You're kidding, right? You've memorized the coordinates for our little hike in
the cave?"
Socks laughed. "You forget that I'm usually the point man for Team Alpha. I
can't very well carry around and refer to a cheat sheet when rappelling down a
cliff, deep-sea diving, or trudging through a muddy jungle in the dead of night
in the midst of pouring rain. And believe me, RB'd have my hide if I led us in
the wrong direction."
"Yeah, but couldn't you have brought a print-out of the data your tracker
collected during your mission?"
"That data is no longer in my hands. Besides the fact that technically the info
you're asking about is classified."
Mulder had been afraid of this. Fearing the worst, he had been prepared to
accept that the commander's admitting to Scully that the object was a canister
might be the extent of the information revealed by the members of Team Alpha.
"I understand," Mulder said, reaching for one of the many charts that littered
the desktop. "How good are you at reading maps?"
"I'd say I can hold my own," Socks said, walking closer. "And since I just so
happened to look over all the data the tracker compiled before my team's
debriefing, and since I just happen to remember the coordinates, I don't really
see the harm in taking a look at these maps and maybe pointing to some landmarks
here and there."
Mulder smiled. "Socks, buddy, you are the man."
"And don't you forget it." He picked up one of the maps. "So, what exactly is it
you want to know?"
"The location of the canister when it registered on your tracker in relation to
where the bodies were found."
"Oh, is that all?" Socks dead-panned as he began to scrutinize the maps more
closely. Sitting down behind the desk, he continued to examine the various
sketches and charts, attempting to correlate the memorized coordinates with the
ink drawings. Mulder stood by watching patiently, until Socks was finally ready
to announce his conclusions.
"To the best of my knowledge, I'd say that the crime scene is located only about
a hundred feet above the ravine where the canister lit up the tracker's
sensors," Socks said. "Maybe there was another sink hole around that it fell
through."
"Or maybe it made its own path for the journey through the rock."
"Maybe," Socks conceded. He ran a hand across his short-cropped, curly black
hair. "Anything else I can help you out with?"
Mulder thought a moment. "Not really--unless you can tell me what was in that
canister, who wanted it, and for what purpose."
Socks grinned as he got to his feet. "Sorry, man. No can do. I'm just a lowly
Lieutenant. You want any more info, you need to hassle someone with more
security clearance--like RB."
"That's okay. I think I should probably quit while I'm ahead," Mulder muttered.
"Thanks for all your help, Socks," he said, holding out his hand.
"Sure thing," Socks replied, shaking it. "So now we even for my slugging you?"
"No problem," Mulder said, clearing the papers off of the laptop. "I should
probably be thanking you for knocking some sense into me."
"Yeah, well, don't kick yourself about it. Life-threatening situations tend to
bring out the worst in all of us."
"Except for those of us who thrive on them," Mulder mumbled.
"Come again?"
"Nothing," Mulder told Socks as he opened a file on his computer. He was
relieved to find that Socks let the subject drop.
"So, you think the close proximity of the crime scene and the canister will help
your investigation?"
"We'll see what happens when my boss reads the case report."
"Think this info will at least help convince your partner about the link between
the deaths and the canister?"
"Maybe. I'll have to run it by her tomorrow, during the plane ride back to D.C."
"I take it she's not as into this whole alien canister theory, huh?"
"No, I think pondering the true nature of a mysterious, unknown chemical of
purported extraterrestrial origin is probably about the furthest thing from
Agent Scully's mind tonight."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should follow her lead. If this is your last night in
Hawaii, you sure as hell shouldn't spend it cooped up in a hotel room, buried
beneath a stack of papers. You're staying on an island paradise. You should get
out there and enjoy it."
"I've never really been a big fan of the beach."
"You suits work too hard," Socks chastised with a disappointed shake of the
head. He glanced at his watch. "Ah, geez, I need to get going."
"I'll walk you out."
"Man, this Robinson Resort is the way to go," Socks remarked as they made their
way to the door. "You must have an awesome view of the ocean."
"I guess," Mulder shrugged.
Socks glanced past him, saw that the drapes on the far wall were drawn. His eyes
swept once more across the room, passing over the cluttered desk and half-eaten
meal. As they came to rest once more on Mulder, Socks took note of the subtle
slouching of his shoulders, the downtrodden cast of the other man's eyes.
"Thanks again," Mulder said, opening the hotel room door.
"My pleasure," Socks replied as he began to leave. He was part-way through the
doorway when he turned back. "Hey, Mulder, I'm on my way to meet Toller at this
beach-side bar. You wanna join us for a beer?"
For a moment, Mulder seemed to consider the idea. "Thanks, but I think I'll
pass."
"C'mon, man--you look like you could use the fresh air."
"Like I said, I'm not a big beach fan. Besides, I need to finish up my report."
"All right. Suit yourself. We'll probably be there for a while. If you change
your mind and decide to join us, it's called Pacific Spirits."
"Will do."
"You take care of yourself, G-man."
"You too, Socks. Good-night."
With a final nod and a smile, Socks took his leave.
Closing the door, Mulder made his way back across the room. He had been headed
for the desk, but stopped instead in front of the drapes. He reached for the
cord, slowly pulled them apart, revealing full-length glass doors. Unlocking
them, he stepped outside onto the balcony. He walked over to the steel railing
and gazed out at the long strip of beach. The sand glistened almost white in the
bright light cast by the moon. He could practically taste the mild, salt-filled
breeze as it blew past, its feather-light touch calm and soothing on his skin.
Mulder watched as a young couple strolled by hand-in-hand below him. The woman
pushed her wind-tossed golden tresses out of her eyes as the man bent closer to
whisper to her. She smiled, and they laughed happily as they continued down the
beach. Mulder gripped the railing tightly even as a shiver ran through him.
With a weary sigh, he turned away and walked back inside. He locked the door and
drew the drapes before sitting back down at the desk. Moving the computer
closer, he found himself staring at the screen. It was a good hour before he
finally began to type.
End Epilogue Part 1
*****