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A New War #30: Adrenaline Rush
by Lianne Burwell
January 2000
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Mulder was amusing himself by wadding up pieces of paper and using the 
sink in the corner as a make-shift basket. He'd had enough practice by 
now that his success rate was four out of five attempts landed 
successfully in the sink. Every so often he'd go over and collect the 
balls of paper before starting over again, throwing out the ones that 
were too soggy to keep using.

He was doing his best to delay providing his captors with anything 
usable, even though he knew he was going to have to produce, much as he 
hated the idea: Scully was counting on him. Still, he was doing his best 
to waste as much time as possible by rereading files, jotting down barely 
helpful questions and ideas and making a production of playing the 
eccentric genius, thinking deep thoughts while shooting makeshift hoops.

He'd been in the cell for more than a week now and he was finally seeing 
some signs of outside life, although he wasn't sure that it was much of 
an improvement. He'd had three visits from a man who was probably more 
deserving of the nickname 'Cancerman' than Spender was. The man hadn't 
provided him with any information, not even his name. Instead, it was 
just demands for results and veiled threats of what would happen if he 
*didn't* produce them. It would be laughable if it weren't so damned 
scary.

Mulder's face twisted into a bitter expression. At his best estimation, 
he only had a couple more days before he would have no choice in the 
matter. He wasn't even sure why he was delaying, other than the fact that 
he liked the Jarod he'd seen on paper. And perhaps there was still a 
small part of him that thought a miracle could still happen, rescuing 
him, Scully and the others.

He snorted. He wasn't usually this much of an optimist.

He was starting round seventeen of his paper basketball game when 
something unusual happened, catching his attention and make his pulse 
race, although he couldn't identify it at first. It wasn't much, just a 
sound. A sound vaguely like an electrical arc. Glancing around the small 
room, his eyes fell on the latest addition to his cell, a very obvious 
security camera mounted in one corner near the ceiling. He figured that 
they had decided that the old pickups and cameras were too subtle.

It was the camera that confirmed that something was going on. The little 
light that said it was working had gone dark. Mulder moved to stand below 
the now-dead camera, staring up at it. His breath started to quicken in 
anticipation.

He glanced around again and moved to pile up the Jarod files, moving 
quickly. Something was happening and his mind insisted on assigning the 
name 'Alex' to it. If that was right, he wanted to be ready.

He was starting to seriously pace when the alarms started to shriek and 
he heard the sound of running footsteps in the hallway.

"Back, Mulder!"

Mulder moved back fast, a grin spreading across his face. It *was* Alex!

A moment later there was a small explosion and the door swung open, the 
section around the bolt now missing. On the other side was Alex, a small 
bag slung over one shoulder, Kincaid and a stranger whose face matched 
the photographs in the files sitting in the middle of his cell, Jarod.

"Let's go, Mulder," Alex urged, still watching the corridor. He was 
intense. He was focused.

He was the most beautiful sight Mulder had ever seen.

He headed for the door and the waiting man, then he paused, a thought 
occurring to him. "You got any more of those little bombs?" he asked.

Alex frowned. "Mulder..."

"Could you blow up the room and everything in it?" Mulder asked hopefully.

Alex looked like he was going to protest, then sighed, obviously deciding 
that arguing would waste more time than just going along with the 
request. He pulled a small ball from his bag, twisted the top and rolled 
it to the middle of the room. "*Now* can we go?"

Instead of answering, Mulder headed through the door at a run. They were 
halfway down the corridor when the concussion of the blast behind them 
tried to knock them off their feet. It didn't slow them down.

* * * * *

The second transport was a little easier than the first, now that he knew 
what to expect. Harrison didn't end up on his knees and Paul's eyes 
recovered faster. But even before the sparkles had faded, Paul knew that 
wherever they were, it wasn't abandoned.

Around him he could hear the hum of machines and the low gurgle of voices 
speaking a language never meant to be formed by human throats. Paul 
looked around, and his breath caught.

They were in some sort of base, and one that was well-maintained and 
heavily manned, unlike the one they'd just come from. All around them was 
equipment that he couldn't even *begin* to guess the purpose of, with a 
handful of expressionless men and women doing equally incomprehensible 
tasks. A couple of them looked up curiously at the new arrivals.

"Move."

Paul spun and found Katara standing there, a device in her hand that 
while not exactly gun-shaped was close enough to make his throat close up 
and his expression turn angry. So much for her claims of wanting to help 
them. But why now? Why not earlier?

"This way," she said, waving them towards a doorway leading out to a long 
hallway.

Not having much choice in the matter, they did as they were told. 
Harrison was cursing under his breath while Suzanne was just white. Paul 
was cursing too, but not out loud. Somehow, despite himself, he'd 
believed the woman when she'd said that she wanted to help Earth escape 
whatever fate her people planned for it and he was calling himself nine 
kinds of fool for it.

"In here," was the direction, and they went through the indicated door.

Inside was a large room with a glowing circle seemingly inlaid in the 
floor. Controls of some sort were set into the walls. There was something 
overwhelmingly... familiar about it.

A man stepped from the shadows, saying something to their captor in the 
alien gurgle. He looked angry, or at least as angry as any of this race 
seemed to get.

Without a word, she shot him.

Suzanne gave a little shriek, and Paul couldn't help jumping too. The man 
when down in a shower of sparks, revealing that he was also an android. 
While they watched, something black and viscous, like tar or extra-thick 
oil, oozed from the mechanical remains. Paul watched in horrified 
fascination as whatever it was slipped across the floor, heading towards 
the door.

Another blast from the not-gun turned the liquid in a greasy black smear 
on the floor, and Harrison moved over to prod it with his toe, 
considering it with a scientist's mind. "Is this what you really are, 
inside that form?" he asked, open curiosity in his voice.

"There is no time for this. You must work fast."

'Doing what?' Paul wanted to ask.

But he didn't. He was already moving to the controls left of the door 
they'd come in and was tapping in commands without thinking about it.

* * * * *

The race to escape the facility had all the earmarks of a nightmare as 
far as Mulder was concerned. Alarms wailed, making conversation 
difficult. The regular lights had all blinked out, replaced with 
emergency lighting that washed everything with a sickly red glow. They 
could already hear the shouts of security heading their way.

As they headed up a flight of steps at a run, Alex was glued to his side. 
On one of the landings, Mulder finally found the breath to shout over the 
alarms, "Scully?"

Alex snarled, then shouted back, "She's waiting for us! Stop worrying and 
concentrate on running!"

Mulder still had worries -- not to mention questions -- but that was the 
most important one. The others -- like what about Harrison and the 
others, how did Alex find him, how did Alex find *Jarod* -- all could 
wait until they were safely out of there. Besides, he didn't think he 
could find the breath to ask those questions

Mulder was a little taken aback when they left the stairwell through a 
door labeled "SL-14," implying that they were still well below ground. 
Only the confidence of his rescuers kept him from protesting, but he did 
wonder where the hell they thought they were going.

Gulping for air as they ran, he was caught off-guard when Alex grabbed 
his arm and dragged him into what looked like a storeroom.

An even bigger surprise was the man waiting there for them, and by Alex's 
reaction it wasn't just a surprise for Mulder. He recognized the man, 
though. It was his unauthorized visitor from a few days after he'd been 
delivered to this facility, wherever it was.

Alex and Kincaid obviously didn't know the man; they both drew weapons on 
him. The poor man promptly dropped the package he was holding and started 
to babble barely coherent explanations for his presence.

Jarod stepped between the man and the guns pointed at him. "Broots, what 
are you doing here?" Alex promptly groaned and lowered his gun. Obviously 
the name meant something to him, even if the face didn't.

"I wanted to get this to you before you left," Broots said, crouching 
down to pick up his package while trying not to take his eyes off of 
Alex. He obviously recognized the assassin as the most dangerous man in 
the room. "Here," he said, thrusting the small bundle at Jarod.

"What is it?" Jarod asked, turning it over in his hands.

Before Broots could answer, there was a shout from the hallway. 
Immediately, Kincaid moved to push one of the filing cabinets at the back 
of the room out of the way, revealing a hole in the plywood paneling. 
"Time to go," he said, almost diving through the opening. Alex pushed 
Mulder after him, following closely behind.

"Come on, Broots," he heard behind them.

"What? I can't... I have to get back to my workstation!"

"Too late. If you stay here, they'll catch you for sure. You don't have 
any other choices. Come on!"

"Just what we need," Alex muttered under his breath. Mulder ignored him, 
too busy trying to keep to his feet as they headed up through the rough-
hewn passageway.

Inside, although he was relieved by the rescue, he was dreading what 
would happen next. As soon as they were safe, he was going to have to 
talk to Alex, and he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with that 
confrontation. What was worse, he knew that he deserved whatever Alex was 
going to throw at him for breaking his promise, back at Cheyenne Mt.

And worst of all, Scully was out there waiting for *her* shot at him too.

* * * * *

As he worked, Harrison stole glances at the circle in the floor. He 
didn't even need to look at what he was doing, his hands obviously knew 
what to do. Instead, his mind was focused on the puzzle of what was going 
on.

The alien woman was standing guard at the door, watching for the no-doubt 
inevitable wave of resistance from her own people. Alarms filled the air 
with a noise that set his teeth on edge. Across the room, Suzanne and 
Paul were both working feverishly.

As he worked, bits of information floated to the surface of his mind like 
flotsam. It told him that the circle he saw was evidence of large amounts 
of equipment beneath the room. This was the sole conduit through which 
the aliens were moving into this world. He wasn't sure *why* it was the 
only one -- it didn't seem to make much tactical sense, he knew -- but it 
was.

Something started pounding at the stout doorway that was all that stood 
between them and a base-worth of aliens, and Harrison picked up speed. He 
wasn't sure what he was doing, or how he knew to do it, just that it was 
important that he finish quickly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw 
Paul's hands drop to the side and the man stepped back from his control 
panel. Then Suzanne did the same.

And then he felt a sense of completion and he stepped back, just as the 
door flew open and figures poured through.

Harrison watched, drained, as weapons came up to fire the blasts that 
would kill them all. In his mind he felt only resignation, as though this 
moment had been inevitable since the knock on his door, only a few weeks 
earlier. At least if he had to die, he'd had these last days with Paul, 
repairing the emotional damage of years without him.

Then a whine filled the air, and he winced and raised his hands to his 
ears. He watched in amazement as the figures of their attackers started 
to glow, then one by one... vanished? Then more appeared, out of thin 
air, then disappeared again. And more, and more...

Finally, only two were left, two of the original wave of attackers. They 
stared in shock, leaving themselves open to the blasts from Katara's gun. 
These two didn't explode into sparks like the other one. Instead, they 
went down with screams and started to bleed a green substance that hissed 
and smoked as it was exposed to air. Harrison watched in disbelief as the 
bodies slowly dissolved into nothing. They hadn't been machines.

A moment later, they were alone in the room with their... savior? She 
lowered the gun and nodded to Paul. The military man stepped forward 
stiffly and tapped one last command into the panel in front of him. Then 
Suzanne did the same.

Immediately, all of Harrison's hair started to stand on end. Static 
electricity filled the air and he could hear the sound of electronics 
shorting out. Streams of smoke started to pour from the panels on the 
walls.

Katara nodded slowly. "It is done."

* * * * *

After what seemed like an eternity of climbing, Mulder finally saw a pale 
grey light up ahead and sighed in relief. They'd had plenty of flashlights 
to light their way at the start, but most of them had been turned off when 
they'd heard the hidden entrance to the tunnel discovered, although Mulder 
wasn't sure why. After all, it was pretty damn obvious where they'd gone, 
considering how well sound was carrying. But all Alex allowed them was a 
single dim flashlight, barely enough to keep them from walking into the 
tunnel walls. Mulder's bare feet were bruised and battered already from 
the rough ground.

But they'd finally reached the end of the line, stumbling out into the 
pale pre-dawn light. Mulder collapsed against a tree, breathing heavily. 
The last week or so of enforced inactivity had left him feeling 
completely out of shape. He desperately needed exercise. He wasn't sure 
how Alex kept going, considering that the man had been shot only a week 
earlier.

Instead, the man still looked fresh. He turned to face the tunnel exit, 
tossing his now-empty bag aside. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he 
pulled out a palm-sized device and extended the small antenna. He stared 
into the tunnel, a fierce grin on his face. They could hear the sounds of 
pursuit getting closer. Then he pressed a button on the device in his 
hand.

A moment later, there was a deep, rumbling sound, followed by a cloud of 
dust and debris belching out of the tunnel. Mulder drew a deep breath, 
realizing what Alex had done. He'd planted explosives during their escape 
and he'd just blown the tunnel with their pursuers inside. Then Mulder 
remembered what he knew of the facility -- and the people who'd been 
holding him prisoner -- and found that he couldn't work up much outrage 
at Alex's actions.

Kincaid was equally unconcerned, but both Jarod and Broots looked 
shocked. Thankfully they didn't say anything, though. Mulder could just 
imagine what Alex would say in response to any criticism.

Alex stuffed the detonator back into his pocket. "Let's get going," he 
said, heading off at a slow jog. Mulder groaned and pushed himself back 
to his feet to follow.

"We're done here."


TO BE CONTINUED