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A New War #21: The Call
by Lianne Burwell
October 1999
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General George Hammond was working late. Instead of going home, he would 
be using one of the spare beds on the base. It was something he did 
fairly frequently, thanks to his job as commander of the Stargate 
Project, but this time it was because the base was still sealed. They 
were no further along in finding out how Corporal Whitaker had been 
contacted with the orders to kill Mulder and Krycek, and they couldn't 
keep the base sealed for much longer.

It was damned frustrating. If there was anything he hated, it was not 
knowing where his staff's loyalties lay. After a lifetime in the 
military, he felt that a soldier's loyalty lay first with his unit, then 
to the chain of command, then to the country -- although that was implied 
in the other two -- and finally to family and friends outside the 
military, even if that order was hard on marriages. To find that one -- 
and maybe more -- of his people was reporting to an outside agency was a 
betrayal not just to him, but to the project, the military and the 
country, and he wasn't going to rest until he'd uprooted this vicious 
weed from his base.

He put aside the report from security on all calls made to and from 
Whitaker's home phone, looking for any suspicious calls, and reached for 
O'Neill's summary of the members of the various SG teams. He was certain 
that none of *them* would be involved in this Consortium organization, 
but he wasn't willing to count on that any more. After all, two days ago, 
he didn't know that the organization even existed, let alone that 
*anyone* under his command was a plant.

He had just opened the folder when the phone rang.

Hammond froze, then turned to stare at the phone. It was *not* the phone 
that was supposed to be the base's only link with the outside world. It 
was the private line, for emergencies only, that only a handful of people 
had the number for, all of them at the White House. *No one* should be 
calling on that line at this time of the night. In fact, it had been 
years since that phone had last rung.

Frowning, he reached over and hit the speaker button.

"General Hammond, I presume," a husky voice said from over the speaker. 
He didn't recognize it.

"Who the hell is this?" he demanded, all signs of fatigue gone.

"That doesn't really matter, does it? What does matter is that you get 
Agent Mulder to the phone immediately."

"Who?" Hammond asked, frowning. No one outside the base should know that 
the man was there. On the other hand, the man on the other end shouldn't 
have had the number for this phone either. That implied Whitaker's 
bosses, Mulder's Consortium.

"Don't play dumb with me," was the reply. "We have someone he should talk 
to. Get him, or that person dies."

Hammond fumed for a moment, then headed for the door. He beckoned for the 
nearest soldier. "Go down to the med-center and tell them that I need 
Agent Mulder in my office as fast as he can get here," he said.

He headed back to his desk and sat down, staring at the phone speaker as 
if it were a serpent about to strike.

"Well?"

"He's on his way," he said as evenly as he could.

"Good. I hope he doesn't dawdle. He wouldn't want me to get impatient."

* * * * *

Mulder was staring at the ceiling when the door cracked open. Krycek was 
asleep in the bed next to him, but the last of the sedatives had worn off 
and Mulder was left unable to sleep, and without anything to do except 
watch Krycek sleep by the light from the glass panel in the door and 
wonder just what the hell he'd gotten himself into this time. He'd meant 
every word he'd said earlier, but he wasn't so sure that he had the guts 
to go through with it.

A young soldier, barely more than a boy to Mulder's eyes, poked his head 
through and cleared his throat. "Agent Mulder?"

Mulder sat up, grateful from the distraction from his thoughts. "Yes?"

"Begging your pardon, sir, but General Hammond wants you in his office, 
fast as possible."

Mulder swung his legs over the edge of the bed and started putting on his 
shoes. He hadn't bothered to undress earlier, still feeling a little 
uncomfortable. His clothes were wrinkled, but it wasn't like he needed to 
put on a good appearance. At least not yet. "Did he say why?" he asked.

"No, sir, just that you should get there as fast as you could."

"Whassit?" Krycek mumbled from the other bed. Despite the sleepy voice, 
Mulder could see that his eyes were fully alert already.

"Go back to sleep, Alex," Mulder said. "Hammond just needs to talk to me."

"Want me to come?" Krycek asked, starting to sit up. Mulder immediately 
pushed him back down.

"Don't be an idiot. You are in no condition to be getting out of bed. 
Stay here. I'll be back."

"Sure thing, Arnie," Krycek said with grin, then closed his eyes. Mulder 
wasn't fooled. Krycek wasn't going to go back to sleep until he was back.

His young guide set a brisk pace for Mulder and his current bodyguard, 
and they were at Hammond's office in short order. Kincaid had been 
sitting in the med-center's outer room, chatting with a blonde in 
uniform, but he immediately fell into step behind them.

"You wanted to see me?" Mulder asked coming through Hammond's office door.

"Ah, good. Very prompt, Agent Mulder."

Mulder froze. Hammond wasn't the one who'd spoken, and the man looked 
ready to explode. The voice had come through the speaker phone on a side 
table. It was a very familiar voice.

"What the hell do you want, Spender?" Mulder asked in a tired voice, 
waving for Kincaid to stay quiet.

"Actually, the right question is what do *you* want?" was the smug reply. 
"Here, let me help you with that question."

There was a pause. Then, "Mulder?"

Mulder dropped into a convenient chair. "Are you okay, Scully?" he asked 
softly.

"We're fine," she said, a wealth of implication in the two words. The 
black-lunged bastard had the entire group, but they were unharmed. For 
now.

"And they'll stay that way as long as you do what you're told," Spender 
added.

"What do you want?" Mulder asked again.

"Quite simple, dear boy. I want you. There is a small business jet 
waiting for you at the Colorado Springs airport. You will get on it. 
*Alone*. It will bring you here."

"And here is where?"

"You'll find out when you get here, won't you?"

Mulder paused. "What about Scully and the others?" he asked, not 
expecting much.

"What about them?"

"Will you let them go?"

There was a rasping laugh. "Don't be a fool. Their only real use is as 
leverage. If I let them go, I lose that leverage. All your cooperation 
does is guarantee that I won't simply have them killed." There was a 
choked noise in the background; female, but definitely not Scully.

"Fine."

"Mulder, don't!" he heard Scully say.

"Very good, Agent Mulder. The crew will be expecting you, and only you. 
If anyone else shows up, Agent Scully dies. And Agent Mulder? Don't 
dawdle."

There was a click, followed by the hum of a dial-tone. Mulder groaned.

"You can't seriously be considering doing what he says?" Kincaid erupted, 
angrily.

"Do you have a better idea?" Mulder snapped. "Believe me, these people 
are serious. They'll kill them. Not just Scully, all of them. Including 
Blackwood," he added. Kincaid flinched.

Mulder turned to General Hammond. "Could I trouble you for a ride to the 
airport?" he asked politely.

"Are you sure this is the best move?" Hammond said gently.

Mulder shook his head. "No, but it's the only move I can make."

"Fine. O'Neill will drive you there."

"What are you going to tell Krycek?" Kincaid demanded, not giving up.

This time it was Mulder's turn to flinch. "I'm not," he said softly, 
feeling like a coward. "He'd insist on coming, and he's in no shape." He 
sighed. "He'll find out after I'm gone."

Kincaid shook his head. "And then what? We tie him to the bed? I don't 
think so."

"Too bad," Mulder snapped, moving to stand directly in front of Kincaid. 
"I'm holding you responsible for his safety," he said softly, only for 
Kincaid's ears. "Take care of him."

Mulder looked over to the door. Someone had already found Colonel O'Neill 
and he was waiting there, looking like he'd just crawled out of bed. 
Either that or he'd never made it that far.

"Good luck," Hammond said as he headed for the door. He didn't reply.

* * * * *

Kincaid watched Mulder leave, beyond furious. Sure, he could understand 
*why* the man was doing this. It didn't change the fact that it was the 
stupidest move he could make. He turned back to Hammond.

"We can't simply let him offer himself up like some sort of human 
sacrifice!" he said. He was not looking forward to explaining this to 
Krycek. The injured man was going to blow a fuse over this.

"What do you suggest I do, arrest the man?" Hammond snapped back. He 
pushed back from the desk violently and stood up. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Kincaid asked as they headed out of the office and 
in the opposite direction that Mulder had gone.

"This base may be home to the Stargate Project, but that's just the 
start. When they set up NORAD, they wanted a backup. The government loves 
redundancy," he added with a twisted smile. "As a result, this base also 
has a radar system that can reach almost all the way to the Arctic 
circle."

Kincaid stopped in his tracks, then started to smile. "We can track the 
plane that Mulder gets on, and arrange a rescue."

"Well, we can't be involved in the rescue part, but we can at least tell 
you where you need to go."

That didn't faze Kincaid. "Don't worry," he said. "I know just who to 
call."

Then the grin disappeared. "But first I have to tell Krycek what's going 
on." He groaned. "Any chance you could supply me with a few extra guards 
to make sure he doesn't kill me?"

* * * * *

The jeep ride to the airport was made in silence. The hour was late 
enough that there were almost no other cars on the roads. Mulder leaned 
back in the passenger seat and stared up at the stars.

Those stars seemed a lot closer now. The Stargate Project was letting a 
few select humans travel to other worlds, meet other races. It had also 
proved that aliens had visited Earth, thousands of years ago. He wished 
Scully could have seen it.

But Scully wasn't there. Scully was in the hands of the same people who 
had kidnapped her and used her before. He knew it was stupid to turn 
himself in to an organization that wasn't even going to let her go, but 
he'd put her in too much danger over the years. He wasn't about to be the 
reason she got killed as well. He just hoped that Krycek would understand.

He snorted. That wasn't too likely. Krycek probably would have said let 
Scully and the others die. He'd made his priorities clear; He didn't care 
what happened to anyone else as long as Mulder was safe. No. Krycek was 
*not* going to be happy about this.

* * * * *

"He did *what*?!"

Kincaid grabbed Krycek's shoulders and held him down. "What the hell do 
you think you're doing?" he said, pushing down hard. He was still having 
trouble keeping Krycek from getting up.

"Going after the stupid, self-sacrificing sonofabitch!" Krycek said, 
pushing back.

"You and what army? In case you've forgotten, you were *shot* yesterday. 
You are in no shape to go after him. Besides, you couldn't get there 
before the plane takes off."

"So I'll follow!"

"Where?"

That stopped Krycek. There were probably no end to the list of places 
that they could be taking Mulder.

"So what do you suggest I do?" Krycek asked, his voice slightly ragged. 
"Do nothing?"

"Of course not," Kincaid replied. "This place has radar that covers 
pretty much all of the continental states and Hammond's firing it up as 
we speak to track the plane. As soon as we know *where* they're headed, 
we start planning the rescue."

"Rescue?" Krycek said, starting to relax.

"What? Did you think I was going to just write him off? Besides, they 
have Blackwood too."

"Right." Kincaid breathed a silent sigh of relief. Krycek was starting to 
sound rational again.

"So, we find out where they are, then we call for help."

"Help?" Krycek asked, his voice suddenly going suspicious.

"Yeah. This is just the sort of thing that the Hunters love to do. 
Wolfling will hook us up with weapons and backup."

Krycek was starting to smile. "And this time, I swear I'm killing that 
cigarette smoking bastard, once and for all. No miraculous resurrections 
this time."

"Now you're talking," Kincaid said, finally letting him go and stepping 
back.

"And then, once I get my hands on Mulder, I'm going to paddle him until 
he can't sit for a *year*!" Krycek snarled, smile disappearing.

Kincaid sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * * * *

O'Neill dropped Mulder off at the main entrance to the airport with a 
wish of good luck, then drove off, presumably heading back to the base at 
Mount Cheyenne. Mulder watched as he disappeared, then headed inside the 
airport.

Despite the hour, there was still a large number of people moving around 
the building. He paused, wondering how the hell he was expected to *find* 
the plane, let alone get on it.

"Mr. Mulder?"

Mulder turned and found himself facing a nondescript man in a nondescript 
suite with a face so ordinary that even with his perfect memory he would 
be hard-pressed to describe well enough to identify the man later. 
"Yeah?" he asked suspiciously.

"If you'll come with me, sir, the plane is fueled and ready to take off."

The voice was polite, but the hand on his elbow was like an iron claw, 
not allowing him to pull away or do anything but follow along as they 
headed through a side door and out to a small jet waiting with its 
engines already running.

Once on board, the nondescript man pushed Mulder into one of the swivel 
seats and belted him in like a child who couldn't be trusted to do it 
right. Another man was closing the hatch.

Then the nondescript man sat down and pressed an intercom button. "Take 
off as soon as you have clearance."

"Yes sir."

"So," Mulder said, already fidgeting. "Where are we headed?"

There was no answer, but the other man's eyes never left his face. Mulder 
sighed and looked out the window as the plane started taxiing towards the 
runway.

It was going to be a long night.

* * * * *

Jack O'Neill watched as the corporate jet taxied down the runway. He 
reached down and picked up the radio handset, already set to Mount 
Cheyenne base's frequency. "They just took off, heading east."

"Understood," was the reply. "Get back here, fast."

"On my way."

He glanced up again, watching as the plane's lights faded from sight.

"Good luck, Mulder," he said softly. "I get the feeling you're going to 
need it."


TO BE CONTINUED