Bravo Zulu
by Felicia Ferguson

Feedback (PLEASE--even if I have to get down on my
               knees!) triumvirate@hotbot.com
           *If nothing else, please tell me if I
            should continue to write on this....

Category:  JAG/XF crossover, slight MSR
Timeline:  In JAG, before Mr. Rabb Goes to Washington
               In XF, after Rain King, before SR 819
               In real life (what am I saying--those are real life),
               it takes place 1/99.

*It might help if you've read Passengers, but it's not necessary to
the ultimate story line.

Rating:  PG-13 mainly for imagery.

Disclaimer:  Not mine, wish they were (Boy, do I wish they were.  Can
you imagine the money I would have!)  JAG and all its characters
belong to CBS and David Bellisario.  XF and its people belong to FOX
and the folks at 1013.

Summary:  Mulder and Scully are once again called into help on a JAG
investigation.  What they find, however, is threatens more than their
careers.  The fate of America is on the line.

Bravo Zulu 1/?

FBI Headquarters
Washington, D.C.
0930 ZULU

The bull pen in the Hoover Building buzzed with life.  Agents dashed
around desks, paused and hovered collectively over files, then
separated once more to chase down new theories.  A rash of kidnappings
involving teenaged victims in D.C. had just recently been given the
FBI's full attention.  Twenty agents from the area had been assigned
to the case.

Unfortunately for two agents, their inclusion on the investigation was
deemed unnecessary by their superior.  Fox Mulder glanced around the
room, a look of disgust marring his otherwise handsome features.
'Scores of police detectives, more than a dozen field agents, two
profilers from the VCS, and what are Scully and I doing?' he thought
caustically.
"Frigging background checks.'

He let his breath out in a rush.  Hearing his frustration, Mulder's
partner, Dana Scully, looked up from the papers neatly stacked on her
nearby desk.  A flash of sympathy passed over her features before she
cautioned, "Mulder..."

He glanced over his shoulder at her and nodded his head resignedly.
They hadn't been out in the field in over a month and he was,
admittedly, getting antsy.  More than that though, this imposed exile
>from the X-Files was beginning to grate on his nerves.  They were
being brought to heel by their new superior, A.D. Kersch, and they
well knew it.  No more jaunts across the U.S. chasing down aliens or
madmen bent on devouring people for nourishment.  Instead, the pair
was now relegated to interviewing potential federal workers about
their marijuana use.  Amidst the mounting, and very tedious,
paperwork, Scully often found herself longing for a giant flukeworm or
two.

Ignoring the file on one Charlie Bingley, a young college grad with
aspirations of becoming an ATF agent, Scully allowed her eyes to drift
along Mulder's back, willing the tense lines she found there to
soften.  He could feel her soothing gaze trace over him, and,
incredibly, some of the tension did ease.  His lips curved ever so
slightly despite his current annoyance.  How she did that, he would
never know.  With one look, she could ease his worries, and then, a
second later, heat his blood.  At one time, he would have chalked it
up to their long-standing partnership, or their unusual bond.  But
lately, he had recognized his reaction was due to something else
entirely; something he was sure she had yet to realize.  Or at least,
didn't realize on a conscious level.  The truth had revealed itself to
him in the strangest of places: on a carrier ship in the middle of the
Atlantic Ocean.

The noise in the bull pen softened a notch, pulling Mulder from his
reverie.  He looked up and found the source of the interruption
standing before him, eyes hardened with irritated resolve.  "Mulder,
Scully.  My office. Now," Assistant Director Kersch ordered.  He
brusquely turned away, fully expecting the two agents to quickly
respond.  Scully glanced at her partner, both eyebrows raised as if
asking, "What did we do now?"  Mulder shrugged as he grabbed his jacket
>from the back of his chair, then gestured for her to precede him.  As
they walked in tandem toward the A.D.'s office, Mulder caught himself
staring at the cap of red hair, which gleamed in the fluorescent
light.  'Okay, so maybe I do gaze at her,' he thought wryly.

They passed by Kersch's secretary silently, sparing her only a glance
as they entered the man's inner sanctum.  He was seated behind his
Bureau-issued desk, his eyes narrowed with irritation.  The pair moved
to stand in front of him; no offer was made for them to sit down.
Scully darted a look at her partner.  'This can't be good.'  Mulder
responded in kind, 'Don't look at me.  I haven't done
anything...lately.'

Kersch cleared his throat and pursed his lips.  "An incident has
occurred at the Office of Naval Research and I have been <requested>
to assign two agents to help with the JAG investigation," his normally
deep voice had taken on a biting edge.  "Specifically, you two."  He
glanced from agent to agent with a quick flick of his eyes, noting
their lack of response.  "Apparently, the Navy's Judge Advocate
General was impressed with your previous work--a matter concerning a
Lt. David Anderson."  A sour expression crossed his face as he glanced
down at the file on his desk.
"You'll receive further information from the JAG lawyers as soon as
you get there."  He paused and stared hard at each agent.  "I need not
tell you that I am not overly pleased with this circumstance, but it
seems that my objections have been overruled."

Mulder shot a sideways glance at Scully, his surprise evident only to
her.  This, indeed, was interesting news.  Scully answered him with a
barely perceptible eyebrow lift.

"The paperwork is finished and you two are free to go as soon as
possible.  Your current assignment can wait until you get back."  With
a curt nod and a stern, "That will be all," the two agents were
dismissed.  Mulder caught his partner's gaze as they moved toward the
door.  Their eyes tossed ideas back and forth as to why Kersch's power
was so suddenly usurped.  The subject of their ardent discussion of
sorts interrupted them just as they reached the door,  "Agent Mulder.
Agent Scully."  They both turned back to the seated man.  "Behave
yourselves," he admonished
sternly as if speaking to two errant children.

Mulder's lips tightened into a slight grimace as Scully opened the
door.  His hand settled into its usual place at the small of her back
as the two left the room as soundlessly as they had entered.
***

VA Hospital
Arlington, Virginia
0948 ZULU

The steady beat of the life support machines lulled the man awake.
'If I can just be quiet.  Maybe it won't know,' he thought
desperately.  Suddenly, an agonizing pain seized through him, racking
his body with spasms.  'Oh, God!  Oh, God!  I can't do this!  I can't
take any more of the pain!'  His mind knew he was screaming.  His lips
had even formed the words.  Yet, no sound emerged.

He could hardly even breathe.  With every shuddering intake, his lungs
burned, his throat ached.  He could feel it devouring him.  Could
almost feel the tiny rips slicing his cells open against their will;
the invader eating away at their insides.  Munching on DNA, slurping
up cytoplasm, then picking the ribosomes out of its "teeth" with a
leftover mitochondria.
Was this how they had felt?  Those brave SEALs who had only asked to
serve their country?  Had they been as
terrified by this thing they couldn't fight?  Couldn't even see except
by high-powered electron microscopes?

And the pain.  Oh, God, the pain.  He had given and received high
doses of Demerol, Phenobarbital--and eventually, Morphine--in an
effort to dull even just a bit of the pain.  Nothing had worked.  And
so he lay there, just as those soldiers before him had, the pain
slowly killing him; stealing his will to live.  'He's going to win
now.  With this he can rule the world.'

It had all been so simple, so clear.  He had understood.  And now, it
was...what was it?  He bit his lip as the spasms racked his body once
more.  When the pain ebbed, he noticed a metallic taste in his mouth
and slipped his tongue out to lick away the blood he knew he would
find.  But this time, it wasn't there.

He tried to pull his tongue back, but his mouth was suddenly filled
with blood.  And that awful, rending pain as more cells joined the
ranks of their dying or dead comrades.  He tried to scream; one more
rage against an unfair killer, a killer who used guerilla tactics to
its advantage.  Once again, nothing.  The only sound echoing through
the empty ICU room was the steady tone of the life support as it
heralded a flat line.
***

JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, Virginia
1040 ZULU

"Look at it this way, Mulder," Scully soothed as the pair rode the
elevator up to the third floor.  "At least he let us out of the
building for a few days. <And> it's official so there's no threat of
an ass-chewing when we get back."

"Ooh, Scully, are you offering?" Mulder leered as he leaned closer to
her, his nose just grazing her temple.  Scully held perfectly still,
the whisper-light feel of his breath danced across her cheek.  A
moment later, he pulled back, seemingly unaware of his effect on her.
"At any rate," he continued, "I wonder who the higher authority was."

Scully had recovered from her breathless state enough to reply, "The
admiral maybe?"  She looked up to the numbers, which lit up the floor
levels.  This elevator was taking way too long.  She moved slightly
away from her partner, praying he wouldn't notice and thereby be hurt
by her subtle, but desperate action.  She had to do something; these
close confines heightened her senses to an almost dangerous level.
Normally, the effect of his close proximity was something she could
pigeon-hole into a small part of her brain and force herself to
ignore.

Ever since that kiss on the carrier, though, things had taken a
subtle, but definite shift.  As if both knew the inevitability of
their partnership's eventual progression, but neither wanted to force
the issue.  To bring to light something that would be impossible to
pigeon-hole and ignore once started.  Especially since neither was
certain their feelings were requited.

"Harm mentioned that Chegwidden had a lot of clout, but I didn't
realize it would extend to the FBI."  The elevator dinged as the doors
slid open, forestalling any answer Scully might have given.  She moved
toward the glass doors boasting "Judge Advocate General." Mulder
followed slightly behind and to the left of her, his hand planted
lightly at her back.  Even this gentlemanly gesture now held more
feeling, more heat, than in all the previous years. Scully reveled in
the warmth imprinted at the small of her back.

The room's atmosphere, though less frenetic than the one they had
recently left, still moved at a steady pace.  Scully approached a
blonde woman who peered intently at a file.  The agent greeted,
"Excuse me, we're from the FB--" her words died as the officer turned
to answer.  "Tara?" Scully asked, confusion evident on her Irish
features.  "What are you--"

The woman looked blankly back at the red head and apologized, "I'm
sorry, I'm Ensign Sims, um, Harriet.  You must be the FBI agents."
She smiled easily, the glow of pregnancy radiating from her face.

"No--uh--yes," Scully stammered, "I'm, um, mistaken, but you bear a
striking resemblance to my sister-in-law."

Ensign Sims' eyebrows lifted with surprise.  "Really?  I'll have to
tell Bud that one."  She grinned once more at the pair, then gestured
to the far door.  "The admiral's waiting for you.  He told me to get
Lt. Commander Rabb and Major MacKenzie as soon as you two got here.
Go on in."  The woman left the pair standing in the middle of the room
off in search of the two lawyers.  Scully's jaw was still slightly
agape, not having fully recovered from her shock.  Mulder softly
whistled the Twilight Zone theme behind her.  His partner took a deep
breath and mentally shook herself.  'That was just too weird,' she
thought as her eyes followed the ensign's path to Mac's office.

"Come on, we mustn't keep the admiral waiting.  After all, he <is> the
one we have to thank for springing us," Mulder urged as he lightly
gripped her elbow, steering her toward the door.
***

JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
1058 ZULU

Admiral A.J. Chegwidden savagely poked the speaker button on his phone
to disconnect the most recent call.  'Damn you, Webb!' he silently
cursed.  'My people are not assigned to clean up detail!'  Clayton
Webb was ostensibly a representative from the state department, though
A.J., and most of the office, suspected some link to the CIA.  The
admiral shook his head as he heaved an exasperated sigh.  'Damn the
man.  If this case wasn't hard enough already, I now have <him>
breathing down my neck.'  Closing his eyes, he took in a calming
breath and willed his pulse to slow.
Although he was in excellent shape, it wouldn't do to have a heart
attack just because Clayton Webb was annoying.  A.J. wouldn't give him
the satisfaction.

"Aw, hell," he murmured softly as he rested his chin on his fist.  He
glanced at the clock on his desk and noted that Mulder and Scully
should have been briefed by now.  He reached for the intercom to page
Tiner just as someone rapped twice on his office door.  "Come!" barked
the admiral as he moved his attention from the phone to a pile of
papers scattered over his desk.  The door quietly opened revealing the
two FBI agents.  They remained in the doorway, waiting until they were
invited in.

"Sir?"  Agent Scully prodded, her military upbringing evident in her
bearing.  'I wonder how many times she said that word before gaining
entrance into her father's office?' the admiral pondered idly.

"Yes, come on in.  It's good to see you two again," Chegwidden
greeted.  "I must say that getting you assigned to this detail was
like breaking into Fort Knox.  I actually had to call in a favor with
the Attorney General."

'Mystery number one solved,' Mulder thought wryly.

"We've been reassigned.  Our new supervisor would like to keep a close
eye on our performance," Scully responded diplomatically.

Mulder glanced down at her sardonically, 'That's one way of putting it.'

Her eyes drifted upward, caught his gaze, and the debate commenced.

'We're not saying any more than that, Mulder.'

'The man had to use a favor from the Attorney General!  How ridiculous
can this <reassignment> get?'

'We're here now.  Let's concentrate on this case.  Kersch will be
waiting when we get back.'

'Unfortunately.'

Chegwidden watched the pair silently battle their way to a compromise.
 Though, by the looks of Mulder, Scully won more of the war.  The
admiral opened his mouth to comment on the situation when someone
knocked on his door. Instead of voicing his observation, his mouth
formed the word, "Come!"

The door was opened once more.  This time, Rabb and MacKenzie stood at
the threshold.  Their stances reminiscent of those so recently held by
their FBI counterparts.  Chegwidden had to smother a grin as he
gestured for the lawyers to join them.  "Rabb, MacKenzie.  You
remember Agents Mulder and Scully."

Mac smiled warmly at the pair as Harm nodded his head briefly.  "I
have once again requested some external help.  On this case, Agent
Scully's expertise as a forensic pathologist will come in handy.  This
is a high priority and completely classified until further notice.
The information is 'need to know' only."  He paused a moment, allowing
the situation's gravity to thoroughly sink in.  The admiral looked
down at the papers on his desk before continuing, his tone stark, "The
Office of Naval Research has had an accident in one of their labs.
One scientist is dead; three are in ICU in critical condition."  He
took in the shocked faces of his officers and was intrigued by the
curiosity found in the agents' eyes.  'I forgot. This is nothing new
to them,' he thought, suddenly very glad he had chosen a career in the
military instead of
following his first urge to enter the FBI after his years as a SEAL.

"Prior to the official beginning of Desert Fox, an elite team of Navy
SEALs was sent into Iraq to recon several of Saddam's laboratories.
They were hoping to give the Navy commanders better information about
their targets and, therefore, further decrease civilian casualties. As
you know, America isn't very popular in the Arab states.  We wanted to
move quickly and decisively, but also carefully so as not to further
alienate the people.  Our conflict is with Saddam, not necessarily his
people."

Mulder inwardly smiled, thinking how accurately the admiral simulated
the recent soundbytes, which now echoed in space. The officer
continued, oblivious to the agent's idle observation.

"As you know, Saddam was long suspected of having rebuilt his chemical
plants after Desert Storm.  Satellite surveillance detected suspicious
evidence that the facility in Bayji was rebuilt on the old foundation.
 The men were sent in to confirm the plant's production abilities and
surprised a group of scientists, who just happened to be working late.
The Iraquis, to defend themselves from a potential assault, released a
substance, which is thought to be Saddam's latest experimental
biological weapon."  Chegwidden paused once more.  He watched silently
as Mulder's brow furrowed and Scully blinked once in surprise, then
looked at her partner to determine if she really had heard the admiral
correctly.  The lawyers shared an equally shocked look.

Before they could recover enough to bombard him with questions, the
admiral continued.  "At the time of the recon, none of the officers
showed immediate effects.  The scientists were subdued, the operation
was successful, and you know the outcome of the mission.  It wasn't
until a month later that the men started dropping dead, literally, in
their tracks.  They had been boning up on their weapon diffusion skills
when the group's leader, Lt. Cmdr. George Knight, suddenly collapsed.
He was taken immediately to the VA hospital where multiple and
comprehensive tests were done.  What the doctors found, quite frankly,
scared the hell out of them."

Scully raised an inquiring eyebrow, eager to hear the results.  The
others, though less educated in the field of medicine, were equally
curious.

"I'm not a physician, so I think, Agent Scully, we would be better
served by you explaining the findings."  Chegwidden picked up a few
loose pieces of paper.  The large scrawl of a physician's hand branded
the bottom of each page.  The woman moved forward to take the
proffered items, and froze as her eyes were drawn to a black and white
image.  Her brow furrowed as she looked at the file, then looked
again.  She skimmed the next few pages and, with each page turn,
her jaw dropped a fraction more.	

"Oh my God..." she murmured softly, "Mulder."

"What?" he asked just as softly as he moved closer to her, trying to
see what she saw.

"The report.  And...and...this picture.  This is a tissue cell from
the man's abdominal wall.  The destruction is massive.  More so than
any type of cancer.  It's almost as if it's..."

"What?" he prodded.

"Mulder," she looked up from the paper and locked her eyes with his,
"he was eaten alive."

"Repeat that again?" Mac prompted, her eyes wide with shock.

Scully nodded slowly.  "I'll have to look over the test results and
see some of the samples myself, but according to the naval doctor who
examined him, whatever did this, acted quickly and effectively.  If I
were to design something to attack and destroy the body, this is
exactly what it would be."  She pointed to a series of black and white
photos of small, white disc-like shapes.  "I'm not sure how much you
know about human physiology, but these are healthy tissue cells."  She
moved her finger to the next frame.  "This is what happened when
whatever it was attacked them."  Scully traced around what looked to
be floating, white fragments.  "It literally tore the individual cells apart in
a matter of hours.  It says in the autopsy report that his abdominal cavity
was a mass of blood.  Not even the remains of organs were found.
Cancer cells can take months, up to years, to infect on this large a scale.
And even then, this level of destruction never happens."

"What do you mean?" Harm asked.  "I thought cancer cells ate their way
through the body."

"That's just it.  'Cells,'" Scully explained, launching into lecture
mode.  "With cancer, when cells are created, the parent cell goes
through a process known as 'doubling,' in which an exact copy is made.
 Sometimes, however, outside factors, such as the use of carcinogens,
or even, potentially, biology, activate the genes which are
predisposed to cancer.  These cancerous cells then multiply just like
a normal cell."

"What about a virus?" Mac asked, peering over the agent's shoulder to
get a better look at the file.

Scully shook her head. "Viruses infect by taking over cells and
multiplying. What we have here," she continued, indicating the photos,
"is a systematic destruction.  The cells are physically ripped to
shreds."

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" the admiral asked, his
face intent.

Scully slowly shook her head, "No, sir.  Never."  Her gaze shot to
Mulder and, seeing the obvious question there, said, 'No, it's not
what infected the firemen in Dallas.  This is different.  This is
worse.'  He nodded, accepting her analysis.

"So what are you saying?" Harm asked, his eyes narrowed.

She looked intently at each of the officers, her gaze finally resting
on her partner.  "I'm saying that this man died a horrible, and very
painful, death.  His body was ripped apart down to the very molecule."
***

JAG Headquarters
1105 ZULU

Lt. jg Bud Roberts, a law student who aided Rabb and MacKenzie in
their research and investigation of cases, scurried over to his wife
as she walked back to her desk from Major MacKenzie's office.  The
major and Commander Rabb had just finished knocking on Chegwidden's
door and were commanded to enter a moment later.

"Harriet!  Do you know who that is?" Bud whispered excitedly,
indicating the suited pair who were now visible as Harm and Mac
entered the office.

"They're FBI agents," she remarked, puzzled by her husband's reaction.

"They're not <just> FBI agents!  That's Fox Mulder!  He works on the
X-Files.  He investigates UFO sightings.  I read a profile of him in
last month's edition of 'The Lone Gunmen.'"

Harriet rolled her eyes with exasperation.  Now she would never hear
the end of this.  She loved him dearly, but the man went overboard
whenever someone mentioned his favorite past-time: UFOs.

"That's his partner, Dana Scully.  She wasn't profiled, but she was
mentioned in the article.  She's a medical doctor.  Oh, I can't wait
to meet them!"  Bud hopped anxiously from one foot to the other like a
child desperate for a glimpse of his favorite movie star.

"She's a doctor, huh?  Maybe she needs to get her eyes checked.  She
thought I was her sister-in-law."

Bud's brow furrowed as he looked around the room then leaned toward
her to whisper, "Are you?"

"Bud!"

"Because you know these things could happen.  They could even be here
to investigate you!"  He stepped away from her, his eyes wide.
"Where's the real Harriet?" Bud asked, his voice raising a notch with
slight panic.

Harriet, sensing she wasn't going to convince him with words, grabbed
her husband's hand and lay it on her stomach.  She placed her other
hand behind his neck and firmly pulled him closer to kiss him lightly.
 He pulled away a moment later, basking in the sheer happiness that
enveloped him.  "No," he sighed, "you're definitely you."

Harriet gazed at him fondly, a slight bemused smile tickling her lips.
 "Oh!  Bud, did you feel that?" she asked as she pressed his hand
harder into her belly.

His face lit up as he felt the movement.  "The baby?"

Harriet nodded excitedly, "Mm hmm.  Wait!  There he--" she stopped
with a shy smile "--or she--goes again!"  Bud's grin widened until his
face was nearly split in two.

The sound of someone clearing his throat broke the parents-to-be from
their awe.  Harriet jerked her head toward the source, her eyes
widened with recognition.  "Oh!  Sorry, sir," she shyly glanced back
down to Bud's hand, which still rested on her abdomen, the returned
her gaze to the admiral.  "The baby just kicked."

Try as he might, Chegwidden was not proof against such complete and
utter happiness.  His slightly disapproving gaze softened--just a bit.
 It made his task somewhat harder to do.  A.J. knew the ensign worked
hard to keep her pregnancy from interfering with work.  This, however,
was one instance when he would not be swayed by arguments from her or
husband.  "Lieutenant, Ensign, I know you two usually assist Commander
Rabb and Major MacKenzie in their investigations.  In this case, I
think, your pregnancy might be at risk."  He noticed their concerned
faces and relaxed as he continued, "I'm assigning both of you to an
AWOL case.  Lt. Roberts, you'll be lead counsel.  Ensign Sims, you'll
assist at trial."

The elation on the younger man's face was, naturally, nothing compared
to his earlier joy, but A.J. felt he was pleased nonetheless.  Ensign
Sims' pride in her husband beamed through as she watched his reaction.

"I won't let you down, sir," Roberts swore solemnly.

With a slight nod of his head, the admiral replied, "See that you
don't."  He turned before his slight smile could turn into a
full-fledged grin and caught sight of the retreating backs of his two
offices and the agents.  His smile faded to a grimace.  'Dear God,' he
thought, 'let them find out what the hell is going on.  For that
baby's sake.  For everyone's sake.'

***
end