USS Vincent - Atlantic Ocean 

The carrier wasn't going anywhere except maybe to dry dock for repairs. The second aerial assault had seen to that, taking out the main navigation and communications systems and leaving enough holes in the steel hull, it would be a miracle if it didn't soon lay waste on the ocean floor. 

How the Escondido avoided being targeted, McGuinness didn't know, but he wasn't going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Maybe they'd been far enough away at the time of the attack that they went unnoticed. Maybe, because of their smaller size, they hadn't been perceived as a real threat. Maybe, McGuinness soon came to realize, the enemy had other plans for them. 

"Sir, we have them on radar. The ship's heading straight for us." 

So that's their plan McGuinness realized. The Musgrave would finish them off. No aerial assault when captives could be taken. Gibson had warned him about what would happen to them if the aliens took them captive. They would be altered somehow into what had Gibson call them? Super-soldiers. In essence, as humans, they would cease to exist. 

With the injured from the Vincent still being brought on board the Escondido, McGuinness was unwilling to stop now and make a run for it. Not to mention the Atlantis was still vulnerable to attack since the research vessel had no weaponry other than the handguns that had been issued to its crew. 

"Damn," he turned away, realizing too late that he never should have given those images to Admiral Scully when he had requested them. He should have left well-enough alone; he should have listened to his superiors and stuck to the mission, protecting the coastline from drug runners and foreign infringements along the eastern seaboard. 

But wasn't that exactly what he was doing? Protecting the U.S.? This alien force was a threat, not only to the U.S., but with no real defense against their technology, weren't they a threat to humanity? Damn straight! 

Now was the time to say to hell with orders, and take Mulder and his group seriously. He'd seen enough in that crashed alien spacecraft to know they really were fighting another life form. It was time to fight fire with fire. 

Perhaps Mulder and Scully knew the Admiral wouldn't believe them. McGuinness supposed Gibson had convinced them that he could be trusted to do the right thing - the very thing that might save their butts or land him in prison or worse, the loony bin. 

"Send the message," he ordered. 

"You mean..." 

"Yes. That's exactly what I mean, Private. Just like we did in the drill. Let them think we're surrendering without resistance." 

*** 

Below deck, McGuinness looked on as one-by-one the injured were brought aboard for treatment. Lieutenant Delony approached him and stood fast in complete support of the Captain's decision to appear defenseless. 

"The orders I gave you?" 

"In process as we speak, Sir." 

"And the Alvin?" 

"In place, remaining quiet until you give the order." 

"Weapon systems?" 

"Ready." 

"And the crew?" 

"Informed, Sir." 

"Very well." 

"Sir? Do you... well, do you think this will work?" 

McGuinness had been asking himself that very same question. 

"Are you a religious man, Lieutenant?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Good. Put your faith in that, and pray like hell it works because if it doesn't..." McGuinness never finished his sentence. 

Delony suspected he knew why. If it didn't work, they were dead men. 

Unit Storage Area 

Scully was at a near panic. The look-alike super-soldiers tightened the circle around her, pushing her towards the center of the stadium-sized room. With no obvious escape route, she couldn't help but think of Mulder, her Mulder. 

Not far away, Mulder was thinking of her. He too realized he was being herded towards the center of the room. Every time he tried to break through the circle, they forced him to move with them, a churning wheel bound where? 

Suddenly, they stopped and all but the innermost circle opened up and fanned out giving him the feeling that the super-soldiers were mere spectators to a boxing match. An uneasy feeling came over him, and he wondered when the games would begin. He didn't have to wait long. 

Looking past the circle of Scully's that surrounded him, Mulder saw himself. It was like looking in a mirror at a fun-house; no matter where he looked, the image was the same. Their numbers moved closer and stopped when they reached his circle. Time stood still for a moment until the entire mass opened up to reveal Scully, his Scully. He knew her instantly. 

"Scully!" he called, and she turned, searching for Mulder, but saw only herself. "Here," he shouted again, attempting to cross over to her. 

She turned towards him as he was thrown to the floor. 

"Mulder!" she started forward, but two super-soldiers grabbed her and held fast. 

"Scully, it's me," he confirmed. 

"They can shape-shift, Mulder," she shouted, not understanding why she'd stated the obvious, perhaps maybe to convince herself that she wasn't imagining things. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yeah. Any idea how to get out of this one?" 

"I'm working on it, but don't let my over-inflated male ego keep you from making suggestions. I'm all ears." 

"Perhaps I can help," a gravelly voice from their past sounded behind Mulder. 

The circle opened up enough to let a man enter. He was older now, but Mulder would have recognized him anywhere. The very sight of him stole Mulder's breath. 

"Surprised to see me, Fox?" the man asked as the circle closed behind him. 

"You're dead," Mulder said, not sure of his own words even as he spoke them. 

"On the contrary, Son. I'm very much alive." 

"No," Mulder refused to believe. "You're another one of Musgrave's henchmen... a super-soldier... just like the rest of these," he pointed. 

"Really?" the man shook his head. "Don't tell me you've believed me dead all these years." 

"They blew up the dwellings. You were in them. There was no way you could have survived." 

"Did you ever know me to leave myself vulnerable, Fox? Really now." 

Mulder didn't know what to think. He recalled that day in New Mexico when this man, his father, had laughed at him, knowing full well that he'd passed along the date of re-colonization. He rubbed it in Mulder's face - rubbed it in that he'd won, that Mulder had failed, that the re-colonization would take place despite all of Mulder's attempts over the years to uncover the truth and stop it from taking place. Had he really survived the attack on the ancient Navajo dwellings? Was it even an attack at all he began to question himself, or had it all been another one of Cigarette Smoking Man's elaborate schemes to keep the truth shrouded? 

"Not so sure of yourself? Starting to doubt what you saw? What I wanted you to see?" he taunted. 

Mulder shifted his stance. He glanced through the circle at Scully. 

"Don't believe him, Mulder. That bastard was killed that day. We both know it." 

"Ah, Agent Scully. Do join us," he motioned, and Scully was pushed into the circle where Mulder caught her before she hit the floor. 

"You okay?" he asked her quietly. 

"I am now," she squeezed his hand. 

"Oh, please, spare me the pathetic emotional reunion," the man displayed his disgust. 

"It's not him, Mulder. He was killed." 

"Far be it for me to contradict you, Agent Scully... oh, I stand corrected... Doctor Scully," the man's arrogant, self-assurance hadn't waned over time, "but I'm very much alive."

He lit a cigarette and took a long drag from it, an action they had witnessed more times than could be counted.

"When Krycek tried to kill me, I survived. When you had the chance to kill me," he directed at Mulder, "you weakened, and I survived. When the Rebels torched the Syndicate, I escaped. Ask yourself this, Fox. How?" 

"You were lucky," Mulder said. 

"I was smart. I was a step ahead of everyone at every bend in the road. For what, forty years or more, I never lost sight of what I intended to gain." 

"You let everyone else do your dirty work for you," Mulder's voice rose in anger. "You blackmailed everyone that stood in your way!" 

"It was preferable to losing." 

"You lied no matter what the cost, just like you're lying now," Mulder shook his head. "I don't believe you. You're just another shape-shifting son of a bitch." 

The circle opened. Gibson stumbled forward. 

"Tell him, young man. Tell Mulder the truth." 

Gibson didn't have to say a word. The look on his face and in his eyes confirmed the truth, and it rocked Mulder. He'd written the bastard out of his life years ago, believing he would never again have to cross paths with him. He was satisfied that the man had come to a fitting end. But now, once again, the lies he'd believed all these years had come back to haunt him. Enraged, Mulder charged, his hands quickly finding their target. He began to squeeze, hoping to crush the old man's throat but no sooner did he have him in his grasp, the room spun around him, his grip broken by the super-soldier that knocked him down. Almost instantly, Scully was at his side, warning him. 

"Let it go, Mulder," she pleaded. "He's not worth it. He never was." 

Mulder brushed her aside and stood up, waiting for the faces around him to stop spinning. Scully stood beside him, a hand to his chest in anticipation of his striking out again. 

"Save it, Mulder," Gibson spoke telepathically. "You can't beat him... not here anyway." 

"Listen to him, Fox," his father suggested. "Go on. Talk some sense into him young man. He always was a bit of a loose cannon." Mulder and Gibson looked at one another. "Surprise," the old man laughed again, enjoying this game all too much. "How on earth did I know what he said?" 

Scully looked at the three of them, unsure of what he was talking about. 

"Oh, Fox. How soon you forgot," he threw a crumb to Mulder. "Don't you remember? Don't you remember the little incident where we extracted some of your brain matter? Where did you think it went?" he said, tapping his own temple with his finger. 

Mulder recalled that day - the day he woke up to the feeling of Scully's tears upon his cheek, his head pounding from a surgical procedure. He'd never really known why. The only thing he really knew was that this man had something to do with it. 

"Oh, that special day when you shared your alien DNA with your old man. It has served me well, Son... served me well indeed. Now we can communicate just like the aliens can. In fact, if it wasn't for your little contribution, I never would have been able to join with them. It's the reason why I've survived all that I have," he smiled, knowing he was striking a great blow. 

Mulder lowered his head and closed his eyes, wondering how this man could be his father - a man so evil - a man so opposite of everything he himself was. His mother had confirmed that. He didn't even know his real name. For years, they'd called him by a variety of names:  Cancer Man, Cigarette Smoking Man, CSM for short and the one and only written identity, CGB Spender. He'd prided himself on remaining elusive. What a shock it had been when Mulder learned the truth, that this man he'd spent years hating was his father. 

Scully could see the pain and defeat in Mulder's expression, the heartache brought on by Smoking Man's resurrection. She hated everything about the man and everything he represented. But the irony of the situation was... without him, Mulder wouldn't exist. He was Mulder's father from an affair with Teena Mulder, a planned affair, no doubt, on Smoking Man's part. He knew of Teena's alien DNA. He simply wanted a child so that one day, he would be able to rob from that child, and he'd done just that, robbed from Mulder time and time again. 

"So, what is it this time," Mulder opened his eyes to face his father. 

"Son?" Smoking Man questioned. 

"What do you want from me?" 

Smoking Man grinned and moved in front of Mulder and Scully. 

"It's not what I want from you, Fox. It's what I want from both of you," he smirked. "Quite simply put... I want my grandson," he gloated. 

"You think that I would give you our son?" Mulder smirked as he moved closer to his father. "Over my dead body," Mulder defied him. 

Smoking Man smiled again, took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke in Mulder's face. 

"I think that can be arranged."