Betsy sucked on her bottom lip for a few moments, brow furrowed in concentration. “The Technet, perhaps? With the proper incentive, those disgusting little mercenaries could be quite an asset, especially Gatecrasher’s ’porting abilities; she could take me straight to Magneto. I could grab the Cube from him and have everything set right in time for brunch.” She frowned. “Oh, but they answer directly to Satumyne, don’t they? And she’d never allow them to accept any offer from us.”
“Not to mention she’s quite adamant that the only solution to the problem is to destroy our dimension. I also seriously doubt their tele-portational powers are greater than Roma’s; if she couldn’t place Scott and the others at the heart of the anomaly before, due to the interference created by the Cube’s energies, it’s unlikely the Technet would have any better luck.” Xavier flashed a wry smile. “And that, my dear Miss Braddock, brings us full-circle—”
“To a plan that relies far too much on you being able to reason with a man who has dedicated his life to making Homo superior the dominant lifeform on the planet. . . and who, now more than ever, has the power to annihilate anyone who dares to oppose him.” Betsy grimaced and rubbed her throat, remembering the moment back in Washington when she’d tried to attack von Doom while he held the Cube—only to suddenly find herself floating miles above the Earth. She would have died from lack of oxygen within seconds if the tyrant had been in the mood to end her life, and not merely teach her a lesson for her foolish action. She swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry, Professor, but I can’t let you take that sort of risk.”
“It is not your decision to make, Psylocke,” Xavier replied sternly. “In case you have forgotten, I have faced my own share of dangers as the founder of this group, from the N’gari to the unleashed fury of the Dark Phoenix, long before you were ever invited to join us.” He tapped the armrests of his hoverchair. “Just because I need to travel about in this, do not think for a moment that I am helpless.”
“ ‘Helpless?’ You, Professor?” Betsy smiled. “Of all the words that come to mind that I could possibly use to describe you, I’d find it very hard to include that one.” She traced the edge of one armrest with the tips of her fingers. “I’m not questioning your ability in the field . . .” She paused, catching sight of his bemused look. “All right, perhaps I am. Despite your incredible telepathic powers, even you would have to admit that your handicap does add a complication or two to the mission. But I’m more concerned about the danger you’d be putting yourself in by walking into the lion’s den—we both face the possibility that we could be killed long before we even get close to Magneto. I’d just like to better your chances for survival.” Betsy closed her eyes, tight enough to create flashes of color in the darkness; she imagined she could see
Warren’s face among the multi-hued lights that burst like fireworks. She drew a deep breath, then slowly released it and opened her eyes. “I’ve already lost enough people who are close to me.”
Xavier reached out to pat the back of her hand. “Elisabeth, if we fail, if we can’t prevent the Cube from destroying the protective barriers around our dimension, there will be no place to hide from the destruction, no place to call a safe haven. It will be the beginning of the end, not just for our world, but for every world across the countless dimensions. And if that were to happen, we both know I’d be in as much danger here on the citadel as I would on Earth.” He shook his head. “No, I’d much rather go out fighting, doing my best to end this perverted dream of Magneto’s once and for all, as I’ve tried to do for so long.” He smiled. “Besides, if Erik runs true-to-form, as most of his fellow would-be conquerors do, he won’t kill me . . . not right away, at least. After all, where would the glory of the moment be if he didn’t have someone to gloat to about his victory over mankind—especially if that someone happens to be his greatest foe?”
Betsy returned the smile, her brush with death at von Doom’s hand now cast in a new light. She slowly shook her head in amusement. “You’d think, with all those James Bond movies available on video and DVD, they would have picked up on the flaw of talking the ear off your enemy instead of killing him outright.” Her smile widened. “Not that I’m not grateful for their little egomaniacal rants, of course. Letting someone like Doom or Magneto prattle on about how insignificant we all are in relation to their vast intellects does give one more than enough time to think of an escape plan.” The smile faltered. “But, seriously, Professor. . .”
“Your objection has been duly noted, Elisabeth,” Xavier replied evenly, “but this discussion has reached its conclusion. We could debate the issue all day long, with arguments and counterarguments about the dangers involved in this mission, but I have made up my mind.” His chair slowed, then came to a soundless halt; Betsy stopped as well. The Professor pointed ahead of them. “And now, it is time to inform Roma.”
Betsy turned in the direction Xavier indicated. With a start, she saw that they had arrived at the entrance to the Supreme Guardian’s throne-room.
Three white marble steps, each ten feet wide, lay in front of them, leading to a set of ornate doors twenty feet high, made of solid gold; both were decorated with the image of a blazing sun, rays of light streaming out to all the edges of the panels. In front of the doors stood a quintet of male guards—the first line of defense between Roma and anyone foolish enough to attempt seeing her without permission. All were garbed in golden armor, white, ankle-length capes, and sky-blue tunics, the latter bearing the Guardian’s symbol: three golden, interlocked ovals surrounded by a white circle. It always reminded Betsy of a “Hazardous Materials” symbol. In addition to the uniforms, the men shared a common background: all had been members of the Captain Britain Corps, promoted to their current stations by Roma for services above and beyond the call of duty.
One of the guards—a man with a lantern jaw, and shoulder-length red hair tied in a ponytail—stepped forward. “Good morrow, Professor,” he said pleasantly, then glanced at Betsy. The smile he had shown Xavier flowed off his handsome features like ice melting under extreme heat. “Miss Braddock.”
“Good morning, Alecto,” Betsy replied, being overly polite. “Always nice to see you.” She grinned devilishly, well aware of how much he disliked members of her family. “How’s your hip? Still aching from the last time my brother came past here unannounced?”
The Captain of the Guard looked at her in disgust, then turned to the Professor. “Her Majesty is expecting you.” He glanced over his shoulder and nodded to his men. They responded immediately, pushing on the massive doors, which opened soundlessly, and with surprising ease.
Betsy and Xavier mounted the steps, the guards moving aside to let them pass.
“I’ll tell Brian you said ‘hello,’ the next time I see him,” she said softly, just loud enough for Alecto to hear. She turned and blew him a kiss as she followed the Professor across the threshold.
If she hadn’t been a hardened warrior, a woman trained in the ways of the ninja, and a powerful telepath who had been inside the minds of some of the world’s deadliest villains and survived to tell the tale, the choice invectives that filled the captain’s thoughts might have made her blush.
Inside, Betsy came to a sudden halt, mouth dropping open as she gazed in wonder at the throneroom. It had changed a great deal since the last time she had visited—when Brian had finally gotten around to marrying his shapeshifting girlfriend, Meggan—and she couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer size of the place. Clearly, Roma had picked up a sense of the dramatic from Merlyn, what with the massive design, cathedral-like atmosphere, and a ceiling that was lost in shadow. It gave the impression that you were about to have an audience with God.
She certainly is her father’s daughter. . . at least in tastes . . . Betsy thought dryly, willing her feet to start moving again. She trailed along behind Xavier, stealing glances at the shadows around them. If she looked out of the comers of her eyes, she could just make out the faint movements of creatures that lurked in the
darkness—a second line of defense against the uninvited, it appeared. It seemed that Roma had upgraded, not just her private area, but her personal security, as well. A smile played at the comers of Betsy’s lips. I wonder if Satumyne knows about this . . . ?
Xavier stopped his chair at a respectful distance from the Supreme Guardian, who was standing at the darkened scrying glass, her back to them. It was the set of her shoulders that suddenly made Betsy feel uneasy—they hung loosely, as though slumped in defeat.
At Roma’s side was Satumyne, whose scarlet lips seemed chiseled into a permanent frown. She turned to face teacher and student, and grunted—a very un-Saturnyne-like response.
An inexplicable chill ran up Betsy’s spine. Instantly, she created a telepathic link with Xavier. Something’s wrong, Professor. . .
I surmised as much, Xavier replied. But I don’t think it’s the right moment to press for answers. We ’II just have to wait until—
“It’s all gone to hell!” Satumyne said loudly, her words reverberating around the chamber.
“I beg your pardon?” the Professor asked; Betsy could tell he was surprised by her comment through the link. She quickly disconnected it, not wishing to intrude on his thoughts.
“I knew this was going to happen!” Her Whyness replied, ignoring his question. She snarled, and pointed an accusatory finger at Xavier. “I knew it would happen, but you refused to listen! You’d rather sacrifice all of Creation rather than destroy your precious world, wouldn ’t you? And now see where your selfish actions have—”
A hand lightly touched her shoulder. Satumyne turned, eyes flashing with anger, only to see it was Roma who gently held her arm. Although Betsy couldn’t see the expression on the Guardian’s face, it seemed to quell the fire that raged within Her Whyness’ breast. The Majestrix fell silent.
“Satumyne, what are you talking about?” Betsy asked.
The white-haired lieutenant glanced at her superior; Roma nodded her approval, but said nothing. Satumyne stepped forward, boot heels clicking loudly as she made her way across the transept to join the X-Man and her leader.
“See for yourself,” Her Whyness said icily, gesturing toward the podium containing the omniversal crystals. Betsy and Xavier exchanged confused glances, then followed the Majestrix as she walked over to it, quickly mounting the short flight of steps right behind her.
As she reached the top step, Betsy saw Xavier’s eyes widen in shock. His skin took on a sickly-white hue as she watched the blood drain from his face.
“A very bad day, indeed,” he whispered hoarsely.
Seeing him like this made Betsy shiver; in all her time with the X-Men she couldn’t remember ever seeing him act in such a manner.
“Professor . . . ?” she asked haltingly. When he didn’t respond, she followed the direction of his unblinking gaze, to the collection of crystals that, as Brian had once explained to her, contained the life-forces of every dimension in the omniverse. These, too, she had last seen on his wedding day, and she had marveled at the purity of the quartz pieces.
But something was wrong with them now. A large number of the crystals—normally a brilliant white in color—were dotted with inky black spots.
“That doesn’t look right...” Betsy said.
“Of course it’s not right!” Satumyne roared. “The Cube has infected a hundred realities already, and the taint is spreading to others!”
Now the reason for Satumyne’s hostile behavior, for Roma’s solemn attitude, for Xavier’s shocked expression, became clear to Betsy—and it terrified her. Back on Earth, Jean and Scott had told her of the threat the Cube posed to the omniverse, of how Roma might be forced to destroy their universe to save others, but the impact of that statement hadn’t really struck her until now.
She began nervously chewing on her bottom lip as she gazed at the crystals. It was almost impossible to believe: a device no bigger than a child’s toy, capable of wiping out whole dimensions? It was like something out of Star Trek, or Doctor Who.
And yet, she had seen for herself what the Cube could do in von Doom’s hands, had fallen under the spell it had cast without even knowing it had happened. Was it so hard to believe, then, that the same wishbox that had so effortlessly made the villain’s dreamworld a reality could just as easily tear apart other continuums, exterminate billions upon billions of innocent souls as its cancerous influence penetrated dimension after dimension, until the omniverse was thoroughly consumed?
Unfortunately, no, it wasn’t.
The stains continued to spread across the infected crystals, further marring their once-pure facets. “Which is the one representing our dimension?” Betsy asked. She suddenly felt unable to breathe.
Satumyne snorted. “Does it really matter? At the rate the reality-cancer is spreading ...” The Majestrix slowly shook her head. “There’s no point in destroying 616’s crystal now. The damage is done. We’ve lost.” She gazed coldly at Xavier. “Are you happy now, Professor? Your world has been spared, for the moment. . . but millions more are now suffering because of our hesitation.”
“Satumyne, please believe me—this is not what I had in mind when I asked for the opportunity to send the X-Men back to Earth,” Xavier replied. “All I wanted was a chance to put things right. If I had known what might occur—”
“You still would have fought for the continued existence of your dimension,” the Majestrix interjected. She turned away from Xavier, head bowed. “I don’t fault your intent, Professor,” she said in a lower tone. “I have nothing against your world. I wasn’t looking to punish it for some perceived slight against the cosmos, and I took no pleasure in petitioning the Supreme Guardian for the eradication of your dimension. But it is my duty as Omniversal Majestrix to maintain order throughout the length and breadth of time and space. Your universe was a threat to that order, and it should have been dealt with immediately, instead of being turned over to a bunch of costumed do-gooders whose intentions were well-meant, but inadequate to the task.” She sighed. “I wanted your students to succeed, Professor. Unfortunately, they did not, and now we must pay the ultimate price for their failure.”
Betsy stared at the crystals, her mind still reeling from the realization of what the Cube was capable of doing to the fabric of reality. “But . . . how can this be possible? Doom said the flaw in the Cube only affected its possessor.”
“I thought you said you didn’t believe that,” Her Whyness responded, her back still turned to her and Xavier.
“I said I didn’t believe he couldn’t fix it,” Betsy shot back. “But the mind-scan proved me wrong.” She turned to Xavier. “Is it true, Professor? Are we too late?”
“No, ” said Roma, mounting the steps to join them. A look of fierce determination was etched on her exquisite features. “There is still time, my friends, but we must move quickly . ..”
He was alive; he knew that much. And for Victor von Doom, living meant there was still time. Time enough to learn all he could about this place to which he’d been brought; to learn about his captors, and how they had become involved in his affairs.
Time enough to plan his next strike.
The mutant telepath had come close to killing him, however; far too close for his liking. He hadn’t felt death’s gentle touch, coaxing him toward oblivion, in quite some time—not since his final battle with the Mandarin. What a glorious day that had been! The two longtime foes, soaring high above the Great Wall of China, unleashing the full power of their weapons upon one another: von Doom, with his armor’s death beams and concussive blasts; the Mandarin with his ten alien rings, each jewel-encrusted bauble capable of laying waste to an entire city. The war had gone on for days, neither combatant willing to concede defeat, neither side giving quarter, for both knew that only one man could rule the world. And in the end, that man had been Victor von—
But wait. That conflict had never actually happened. Von Doom knew this to be true—after all, it had been part of the history of the world he had formed
with the Cube; a tiny bit of detailing added to fill a spot on the canvas on which he had created his masterpiece.
Why, then, should he be recalling some minor fantasy as if it were a true memory, when he already had a lifetime’s worth of them from which to draw? Why did it seem so ... so real.. . ?
“And how are we today?” asked a lilting male voice close by.
Von Doom slowly opened his eyes. A physician was standing over him, a broad smile lighting his elfin features; the tyrant surmised it was meant to be comforting.
He took an immediate dislike to the man.
“Doom lives,” he said, his throat thick with phlegm, “despite the best efforts of his enemies to alter that situation.”
“Excellent,” purred the physician. “I must admit, it was a bit touch-and-go there for a while, when you were first brought in—” his smile broadened “—but from what I’ve been told, you’re an extremely difficult man to kill.”
“Where is the mutant?” von Doom demanded.
“The mu—? Oh, you mean the young lady who caused your mental seizure.” The Chief Physician shrugged. “I imagine she’s with the Supreme Guardian.” His voice lowered to a friendly, conspiratorial murmur. “I understand there’s some sort of omniversal crisis going on that requires Roma’s undivided attention.”
“Doom is aware of that, you fool,” the monarch replied testily.
The physician stared at him thoughtfully for a few moments. “Hmm ... I wonder if Doom is aware of other things ...” he said mysteriously, then flashed a bright smile. “Tell me, would you mind chatting with one of our specialists? We had some . . . unusual readings pop up during our examination of you, and we’re hoping you might be able to shed a little light on the matter.”
The elderly despot glared at the man. “I will tell you nothing.”
“I... see,” the physician said slowly. “Perhaps later in the day?”
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