General Musgrave's Medical Bay 

The physician worked around the clock as ordered by General Musgrave to find a way to incorporate the boy's DNA into the biochemistry of the super-soldiers. Being one himself, he didn't tire, didn't need to stop for coffee breaks, sleep or bathroom breaks. He worked feverishly and with intensity in the pursuit of perfection among his race. Now if he could just get it to work, nothing would be able to stop the sleeping army of super-soldiers. Nothing. 

He looked up from the microscope he'd been peering through, observing the blood sample on the slide. A faint sound had rousted him from his observation and brought him around in his chair. There was nothing behind him except for the boy who remained unconscious, lying on the metal table. 

Rising to his feet, the physician moved towards the boy. He took no precaution since he feared nothing. The sound caught his attention a second time. Something was in the room, but what? He stopped, looked and listened. 

Will's hand twitched ever so slightly. The physician noted it immediately. He walked closer, his eyes drawn to the hand where the needle had been secured beneath the boy's skin, administering the sedative to hold him captive. But what was that near the needle, near the surgical tape that held the needle in place? 

As he approached, the physician grew puzzled by what he saw; a tiny bee had lighted on the boy's hand near the needle. He watched with interest. The insect seemed oblivious to his presence. It was more interested in the tiny droplet of blood that had formed during the puncturing of the skin. As if the pin-pricked skin were a flower, the bee moved its legs all about the blood, coating them in the same manner it would pollen. The physician didn't know why it would do such a thing. It was so uncharacteristic of the insect, and so he watched with interest until the bee determined enough was enough. It stopped, looked at the physician and flew directly at him. 

Casually, the physician swatted at the bee, sending a slight brush of air that sent it away from him. It cut around to one side and came up behind him, landing squarely on his neck. Without hesitation for its own life, it sunk its stinger into the rigid skin at the top of the second protrusion. Flying quickly away, it disappeared into the ventilation shaft. 

Feeling a tingling on his neck, the physician reached back and rubbed the area. Something had punctured his skin and when his fingers identified it, he pulled it out, bringing the tiny stinger under closer observation. 

Next, he experienced a tingling sensation that made its way upward into his brain. While evaluating the situation, he dropped to his knees, losing strength with each passing second, trying all the while to understand what was taking place. 

But there would be no understanding, no comprehension as to why his brain was being pulled inward - pulled magnetically by the mixing of the boy's DNA with that of the bee. It really didn't matter because the combination of the two had an amazing affect. 

*** 

Moments later Will's eyes blinked open and closed in an attempt to focus in the brightness of the medical bay. The antiseptic smell quickly keyed him in to the fact that he was no longer on the battleship. Tilting his head to one side, his brain began to register what had happened. He shot up quickly - too quickly in fact and in no time at all, he was head down over the far side of the table, vomiting as a result of the sedative. 

He lay on his side, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass. The next time he sat up, he did so more cautiously than before. Wiping his arm across his mouth and wishing the bitter taste would leave him, he spit on the floor. It wasn't going to make any difference, seeing as the contents of his stomach had already settled there. 

Blinking, he tried to clear the fog that had taken up residence in his brain. That wasn't going to happen as long as the sedative continued. Slowly, he peeled back on the piece of tape, wincing as the hairs on his hand protested being torn from their follicles. He realized that pulling it slowly wasn't the wisest choice, but seeing as he didn't want to risk breaking the needle in his efforts, he took his time. 

With the tape removed, Will carefully brought the needle out of his hand, and tossed it aside. He pressed on the tiny puncture and waited there for some time in a daze as the sedative slowly began to free him. As if coming awake for the first time, he looked about the room, noticing the body lying face down a few feet away. 

With pressure still on to his hand, he swung his legs to one side, letting them dangle over the edge of the metal table. Carefully, he slid off the table, unprepared that his legs gave out beneath him, landing him hard on his knees. He stayed there, knowing he didn't have strength enough to get up just yet. 

"Mister?" he said, licking his dry lips. "Hey, Mister," he repeated, but the man didn't respond. 

Will mustered up the energy to crawl towards the doctor whose back was to him. Beside him at last, he grabbed the shoulder with every intention of shaking the man to rouse him. But when he touched him, he pulled his hand back, startled. It felt like the man was made of steel - cold, hard steel. 

With some hesitation, he tried the shoulder again, but he was unable to wake the man. He didn't want to know why there had been no response, but curiosity would not let him rest. One last time, he pulled the man by the shoulder, rolling him onto his back. 

Had the man's face still been in place, he would have been staring towards the ceiling, belly up. But there was no face to speak of. Shocked by the sight, Will found energy he didn't know he had, and he scrambled backwards on his butt, pushing with his sneakers against the slick tile floor. He stopped only because he drew back against the legs of the table he'd been laying on. 

He shook with fear, his eyes locked upon the remains of the pitted metal face. The flesh had melted - literally melted! The eyes were hollow, having sunk deep into their sockets. The teeth displayed a malicious grin. As he sat watching, a thick silvery pool of blood began oozing from the man's ear. No one had to tell Will that he was looking at a shadow man - a super-soldier as Mulder called them - one that somehow had met with a bad case of implosion from within his own head. 

Knowing that the shadow men he killed at his home in Fox Canyon had not really died, Will suddenly feared that this man too would soon return to life. Using the table for support, he pulled himself up, wavering briefly. When he caught his breath, he side-stepped the body and hurried towards the door, but before he could enter the hallway, he plowed into a man standing in the threshold, prepared to enter the room of Will's exit.

Slowly, the boy's eyes moved up past the loose fitting shirt that was untucked at the waist and past the scar that adorned the man's throat. His gaze continued upwards until he looked into the face of a man he knew only one thing about. 

Somewhere deep inside of him, Will's spirit screamed, not because it was afraid, but because evil had a face. 

Underground Facility - Atlantic Ocean 

Mulder sensed William's fear the moment he stepped out of the elevator. His eyes shot past the Gunmen and settled on Gibson. Seeing the expression on the young man's face, Mulder knew he was not imagining things as the two exchanged concerned looks. 

"Mulder?" Scully said, tugging at his arm and alerting him that General Musgrave stood before them. 

"General," Mulder extended his hand in the military officer's direction. 

"Mr. Mulder," the General took his hand, pulling Mulder close enough to hear his lowered voice.

"We must hurry. He knows." Stepping away from Mulder, Musgrave turned to the sergeant on duty. "Sergeant," he spoke, bringing Yannone to his feet. 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Carry on." 

"Aye, General." 

Musgrave led the group out of the computer room and into the hallway where the other shape-shifters waited. As soon as the door closed behind them, the guards and Musgrave morphed back into their true forms - BJ, Sam and Jeremiah. 

"I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing that," Grant said to Doggett off to one side. "It just isn't natural." 

"You're telling me," Doggett agreed, thinking about how far military technology had come. 

Gibson shot a quick glance at Doggett knowing his thoughts. After all the man had seen, he still believed everything they faced was of human origin. Even after Jeremiah had healed him of the gunshot wound he'd received in the helicopter while trying to rescue Will, Doggett refused to acknowledge anything alien. He was in for a huge awakening. 

Wasting little time on good-byes and only a brief exchange of well-wishes for success in each of their missions, they split into three groups and went their separate ways with a shape-shifter among each group. They'd walked the ship and knew the facility. In a way, they were living maps, and the knowledge they had gained would be an asset or so they hoped. 

Jeremiah led the Gunmen to Level One. Dressed in military uniforms, their appearance was relatively identical to every other soldier on duty. Even Langly, who swore he'd never shed his blond locks, didn't flinch one bit when he sacrificed them to the sheers. They all took on regulation attire and actions, knowing it would aid them in their main objective, setting explosive devices in each of the tunnels leading to the various continents and also in key areas of the facility. Acting as a military maintenance team, their initial stop took them forty levels down to the main transport area where they rigged explosives within key stairwells and elevators. 

Looking around at the constant movement of man and machine, Jeremiah reminded the Gunmen that ninety-five percent of those they would encounter were human. Super-soldiers seldom held menial jobs that could be accomplished by hired hands. Tasks such as vehicle maintenance, housekeeping, drivers, cooks etc., all were performed by humans. For the most part, they were unaware of the real mission, the alien re-colonization. Most, like Grant had been in it for the pay, and they followed their orders having been led to believe they were preparing for an internal assault on U.S. soil. 

Super-soldiers like Musgrave, held higher positions of authority, ensuring they stayed on track and didn't deviate from their goal. These were men who wouldn't be questioned by the lower ranking personnel simply because of their positions of rank and power. They supervised the process of securing human hosts for the growing alien army inside the ship. They oversaw the creation of super-soldiers and continued to strive for improvement in the machine-like race. They met to discuss the re-colonization efforts in detail, planning strategies and scenarios for every possible counter-move. Had the humans been aware of their most recent success, they would have cause for concern, realizing that there might not be a way to win at this game.

Entering the tunnels at ground-level was no small feat. It wasn't that they were hard to gain access to. On the contrary, they were completely accessible and after stealing a truck from the maintenance bay on Level 2, their task became a little easier. The problem was, there were twelve tunnels in all, and they would have to work at an accelerated pace to complete the work in the allotted time frame. Six hours was pushing it, but it's all the time they were afforded before the Navy would be back at the pad site for pick up. They knew it was impossible to accomplish everything they wanted to do in that short amount of time, but they had no choice. It was a life or death situation... theirs.