The Legacy Quest Trilogy

by Unknown Author

  “You should get into some diy clothes, at least. You’ll catch your death.” Rogue had already changed into a spare costume, which must have been stored aboard the Blackbird. It was an old one: yellow with green highlights, over which she wore a bomber jacket with circled ‘X’ logos in red on each shoulder.

  Memories were crashing back into Nightcrawler’s mind. Through the telepathic link, he had been aware of Rogue and Wolverine’s discovery at the airfield. The rest of the X-Men, eager to follow, had headed for their own vehicle. A frightened and overzealous police officer had fired two shots at Storm as she had passed overhead.

  They had reached the Blackbird, at last, at another airfield. Wolverine had called in a favor from an old friend who worked there, and the plane had been hidden beneath an old tarpaulin, no questions asked. The heroes had piled into it, stripping down to their costumes, Cyclops taking the controls. Phoenix had dropped the link between her teammates by now, but she had still followed Rogue and Wolverine’s progress herself. No sooner had the plane taken off when her face had turned ashen, and she had cried out: “They’ve been attacked!”

  Nightcrawler had watched anxiously as the telepath had cocked her head to one side, as if listening. At last, she had announced: “Logan’s OK, but Rogue’s been clipped by a missile. She’s down and out. Nightcrawler-” •

  “I’m on it. Where is she?”

  She had beamed a location directly into his mind. Not coordinates exactly, but an intuitive understanding of where Rogue was, relative to his current position. A trail of thought. And a warning, that his target was already underwater.

  Nightcrawler had taken a deep breath, and teleported. The next thing he had been aware of was the shocking cold. He had thought himself prepared for it, but it had almost stolen the air from his lungs. He had forced his eyes to open, and had seen a dark shape in front of him, sinking. Rogue.

  He had swum after her, trying to ignore the fact that he couldn’t feel his extremities. For an awful few seconds, she had been sinking faster than he could catch her up. The current had threatened to tear him away from her, and he had felt so tired, as if he were about to black out himself. But, with a Herculean effort, he had managed to take hold of her.

  The front of Rogue’s sweater, and her costume beneath it, had been shredded and singed by the missile strike. Nightcrawler had clung tightly on to her, but had been extra-careful not to touch her bare skin with his. He didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s experience. He had drifted with her, trying to visualize the inside of the Blackbird, but his brain had been too numbed by the cold to concentrate. He had teleported, at last, the strain of taking another person with him doubled by the desperate conditions, and by the sharp twinge in his side that had reminded him of his injuries. He had exhausted his remaining oxygen in a cry of pain and defiance. And, he remembered now, he had collapsed as soon as he and Rogue had arrived back on the airplane.

  “I’m not the one who got blasted out of the sky,” he reminded his teammate. “How are you feeling?”

  Rogue smiled, weakly. “Bruised and battered, if you want to know the truth. But I’ll be OK. I might not be Wolverine, but this old body of mine’s no slouch in the healing department.”

  “Where is Logan? How is he? Do you need me to-”

  “The half-pint’s fine. Holding out well, according to Jean. Ororo’s gone to fetch him.”

  As if on cue, the main hatchway door was pulled open from the outside, and Storm carried a bedraggled Wolverine over the threshold, unconcerned by the fierce wind outside. His face cracked into a wide grin when he saw Rogue. “Good to see you, darling.”

  “Now that everybody’s present and correct,” Cyclops called over his shoulder, “we need to give some thought to what we’re going to do next.”

  “I’m afraid I lost the chopper,” said Rogue, ruefully.

  “Jean, can you try locating Hank telepathically again?”

  Phoenix shook her head. “I’ve been trying, Scott. If he was in that helicopter, then his thoughts have been shielded somehow. By Tessa, I’ll bet.”

  “He was there,” growled Wolverine. “I caught a glimpse of him, just before that scum Fitzroy pulled the trigger.”

  “I’ve been following the bearing they were on when Rogue last saw them,” said Cyclops. “It looks like they were heading towards the Philippine Islands.”

  Wolverine shook his head. “They changed direction. Probably thought I was too busy drinking in seawater to notice. Roughly a hundred and thirty degrees from where Storm here picked me up.” Cyclops smiled tightly, as he turned the plane around. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “A vehicle like that can’t have too long a range,” surmised Storm. “Certainly not enough to cross the Pacific Ocean,” said Phoenix. “Either Fitzroy’s planning to double back on himself again, or-” “Or,” concluded Wolverine, “the Hellfire Club are holed up on an island out there somewhere.” He slapped his right fist into his left palm and muttered, under his breath: “In which case, it’s only a matter of time ...”

  HON

  BELOW HIM, the Beast could see a small island. It was covered, for the most part, by a lush, green forest, which gave way to rocky

  _beaches only at the island’s edges. He swallowed as he realized

  that Fitzroy was bringing the helicopter in to land.

  He had spent the journey in a state of nervous anticipation. The fact that he was shut into a confined space with two of the X-Men’s deadliest enemies hadn’t helped. He was worried they might have harmed Rogue and Wolverine, although he kept telling himself that both had survived far worse than an unexpected plunge into the Pacific Ocean. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was doing the right thing.

  “Getting nervous are we, old chap?” taunted Fitzroy, casting a sideways glance at his passenger. Hank didn’t answer. “Can’t blame you if you are. You think Shaw needs your help? What if he doesn’t? You’re a long way from anyone who can save you.”

  “Just take us down, Fitzroy,” the Beast growled, baring his fangs. “My business is with the organ-grinder, not with his monkey.”

  “I hope he does turn you down,” snarled Fitzroy. “Perhaps he’ll throw you to me.”

  He guided the helicopter down to the forest and into a small clearing, which could barely contain it. Its blades were almost close enough to the trees to shred the leaves in their uppermost branches. The landing site, Hank realized, benefited from the greatest possible natural cover. It would be difficult for anyone to find them here.

  He looked at Tessa. She didn’t return his gaze. She seemed relaxed enough, but she had to be concentrating to maintain her blockade around his mind. She hadn’t spoken since his teammates had disappeared beneath the waves. Briefly, he considered attacking her, taking her by surprise, distracting her for just a second. That was all Phoenix would need to locate his thought patterns, to get a rough fix on his location. But then, if his meeting with Shaw went as he expected-and Fitzroy’s snide comments aside, he had no reason to believe it wouldn’t-then the last thing he would want was for the X-Men to interfere.

  And, he thought belatedly, how could he surprise a telepath anyway? Tessa was inside his head, no doubt monitoring his thoughts. She probably knew about his plan, and about his decision not to implement it, already. He resisted the urge to flash her a guilty smile.

  They stepped out of the helicopter, Tessa going first. Fitzroy placed a hand on the Beast’s shoulder and gave him a helping push out of the cabin, as if he were a captive. Hank didn’t rise to the bait. Let him play his power games.

  At the edge of the clearing was an entranceway. It was constructed from thin beams of metal, and resembled nothing more than a phone booth put together with Meccano. However, Hank could see it housed the top of a stairway. Tessa made her way towards it, and he followed her, with Fitzroy behind him.

  Then, suddenly, he was alerted by crashing sounds in the undergrowth, and Hellfire Club agents in their distinctive blue and re
d costumes burst into the clearing from all sides.

  The Beast tensed and dropped into a crouch, but the agents just brought up their machine-guns to cover the newly arrived trio, and made no further move towards them. Tessa seemed to take the ambush in her stride, but Hank could sense Fitzroy twitching resentfully beside him. For a second, he thought he might actually attack his allies.

  From the direction of the entranceway, came the sound of somebody clearing his throat deliberately. Hank turned to find Sebastian Shaw standing at the top of the stairs, flanked by two more uniformed guards.

  “Welcome to my island,” he said. He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  “What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Shaw?” snapped Fitzroy. .

  “You’ll have to excuse the reception committee.” Shaw’s words were polite enough, but the tone of his voice was hard, betraying a hint of anger. “When your perimeter scanning systems inform you that two of your colleagues are bringing one of your sworn enemies to your base of operations ... well, you can understand why one has to be careful.”

  “The X-Man is our prisoner!” contested Fitzroy. “Don’t you see? We’ve managed to capture one of these ‘sworn enemies’ of yours.” “Actually,” Hank spoke up, apologetically, “I would dispute the veracity of that statement.”

  “Doctor McCoy has volunteered his services for the project, sir,” said Tessa.

  “Oh?” Shaw looked surprised.

  “In fact,” Hank corrected her, “I merely intimated that I might be prepared to enter into a temporary alliance with you for the sake of our common purpose. Firstly, of course, I would need to know more about your operations. Secondly, my cooperation would be contingent upon your assurance that Moira MacTaggert is, and will remain, safe and unharmed.”

  Shaw nodded. “I see no problem with those conditions.” He looked sharply at Fitzroy. “What precautions did you take to ensure the X-Men didn’t follow you?”

  “We shot two of them out of the sky,” boasted Fitzroy. Shaw was treating him like a child, and the young mutant clearly resented him for it. “They didn’t come back after that!”

  “They will,” said Shaw, “sooner or later. Tessa, put up the vibro-screen and man the defenses. Doctor McCoy, I won’t deny I could use your help. But if I ever have cause to suspect that you plan to betray me ..He left the threat unfinished.

  “I have deduced correctly, have I not?” said Hank, evenly. “You brought Moira here to assist you in your quest for a cure for the Legacy Virus?”

  “Correct,” said Shaw.

  “For which you would require her willing participation.” “Unfortunately, Doctor MacTaggert chose not to accept my proposition.”

  “As she has before. So ..Hank took a deep breath, and tried not to betray his trepidation as he prepared to ask the most important question. The one that had brought him here. The one that mattered. “What made you think you could change her mind now?”

  Shaw’s smile grew broader as he stepped to one side and, with a sweep of his arm, indicated the entranceway behind him. “Allow me to show you.”

  Shaw led the way down the stairs, his two personal guards at his shoulder, followed by the Beast, then Tessa and Fitzroy. The faceless agents came behind them, booted feet clanging on metal steps as they filed back into the base. They reached a long hallway from which several corridors branched, along with more stairs leading further downwards. The walls were dull, metallic and gray. Hank suspected that they also gave off photons, as he could see no other light source.

  “You should know,” said Tessa, leaning close to his ear as if the information were confidential, “that this facility is proofed against psionic intrusion. Your telepathic friend won’t be able to find you.” Then she turned on her heel and marched smartly away, her duties here discharged.

  The agents dispersed around Hank, many of them clattering down to the next level, some disappearing down the various corridors. Fitzroy, he noted, stood guard at the stairs to the entrance, glowering at him as if daring the X-Man to try to get past him. Hank stood, taking in his surroundings, as Sebastian Shaw and his guards waited patiently.

  “This is all veiy impressive,” he remarked. “Your own island headquarters.”

  “A legacy, you might say. This facility was constructed many millennia ago by an alien race known as the Kree.” Hank nodded. He had encountered the Kree before. “They used it as a spaceport and a scientific base during their early explorations of Earth. It was rediscovered by the Fantastic Four, some years ago.”

  “Ah yes, I recall the case.” Hank’s brow furrowed as he dredged up old memories of Avengers files. Reed Richards and his family had stumbled upon the abandoned Kree island by accident, and had found themselves drawn into a battle with a mechanical Sentry left behind by the ancient space-faring civilization. It had been the first of many recorded encounters between humankind and the Kree, and it had set the tone for most of those to come. Having only narrowly defeated their foe, the Fantastic Four had had to flee before the Sen-tiy could destroy the island, and the Kree’s secrets with it. “Clearly,” he said out loud, “that initial encounter was less destructive than Professor Richards believed.”

  “The island was submerged, and there was extensive damage to this facility.”

  “And yet here it is now, raised from the seabed, good as new.” Hank shot his host a penetrating glare. “And, if I’m not very much mistaken, several thousand miles from its original location. Who do you know, I wonder, who has the power to accomplish that?”

  “I have my contacts,” said Shaw, darkly. “But that isn’t important.” He led the way along the hallway and down one of the connecting corridors. Hank fell into step by his side. Shaw’s two guards also accompanied them, their blank masks concealing their emotions as always. Hank was pleased to note that they left Fitzroy behind, at least. “The important thing,” said Shaw, “is the technology I now possess. Alien technology, Doctor McCoy. Not to mention the records still contained within the core memory of the base’s computer.”

  The Beast’s eyes widened. “From a time when the Kree, by all accounts, were conducting genetic modifications willy-nilly upon our forefathers!” He hardly dared to let himself hope. Throughout the galaxy, the Kree were known not only as fierce and proud warriors but also as master geneticists. Even thousands of years ago, they had doubtless understood more about human mutation than Henry McCoy did now.

  “It took months for my technicians to reconstruct the corrupted data,” said Shaw. “Longer still for it to be deciphered.”

  “But now, you must have access to information that could revolutionize genetic science!”

  Shaw smiled. “I see you are beginning to understand.”

  He pushed open a set of double doors, and ushered his guest into a large room. It shared the dull gray color scheme of the rest of the base, but the walls were lined with monitors, control banks and displays of various kinds. The bare floor was punctuated by four metal lab benches which were cluttered with discarded notes and medical equipment.

  From various parts of the room four white-coated people looked up at the new arrivals. Hank recognized three of them from photographs he had seen at the mansion. Shaw reeled off the names of each in turn, starting with Doctor Scott. The gray-haired black man glowered at Hank and Shaw over the top of a pair of frameless spectacles. Professor Travers, similarly, made no attempt to disguise his hostility towards them. An elderly gentleman, his features were mostly concealed by a bushy, white beard. Perched on a stool, a microscope in front of her, Doctor Takamoto was a young, attractive Japanese woman with shoulder-length dark hair. She looked away quickly, as if afraid to let Hank read her expression.

  “And, of course,” Shaw concluded, “you already know Doctor Campbell.”

  “Hank, what are you doing here?” Rory Campbell was a tall, well-built man in his early thirties. A white streak ran through his swept-up brown hair, and beneath his coat he wore a bodysuit, which was also predomina
ntly brown but blue around the shoulders, the colors separated by a slanting red stripe. If he was pleased to see

  Hank, then he didn’t show it. He wore a habitually grim expression, and his green eyes were haunted by the future.

  Campbell had once been afforded a glimpse of his own fate. He knew he would end his days as a savage, one-legged, mutant-hunting slave. He had vowed to fight against that destiny, but part of it had come to pass already. He hobbled across the laboratory on a crutch, having lost his left leg some time ago in an accident on Muir Island. He had refused to have a prosthetic limb fitted. Hank guessed he saw the inconvenience as a reminder to himself not to be careless again. And, of course, as a reminder that the future was getting closer.

  “Doctor McCoy is considering joining our team,” said Shaw. Campbell tilted his head in mild surprise, but otherwise took the news in his stride. “You’d be a welcome addition,” he said. “We’ve made some good progress here, but I can’t deny we could be doing better. It would be useful to have a fresh pair of eyes looking over our work so far. And we have a few specific problems that you might be able to help us with. I was hoping to have Moira join us, but

  “Doctor MacTaggert was quite stubborn, as I have explained,” interrupted Shaw.

  “You mean she had bothersome principles,” said Hank. “I want to see her before I’ll agree to anything. Where is she?”

  “In living quarters downstairs,” said Shaw, “where she is perfectly comfortable.”

  Campbell drew Hank to one side. “Before you talk to Moira, why don’t you take a look up here for yourself? See what you might be getting yourself into.” He punched a few short commands into a keypad, which was set into the nearest wall, and a monitor lit up with a string of numbers and letters. The characters raced across the screen so quickly that it took Hank a second to realize what he was seeing. When he did, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “I knew the Kree were experts,” he breathed, “but... but they’ve mapped parts of our genetic structure that we hardly knew existed ...” He wished he had his notepad with him. But even if he had, there wouldn’t have been time to scribble down more than a tiny fraction of this information. He looked at Campbell. “They even seem to have postulated the eventual emergence of the mutant gene.” “The Kree conducted various studies into possible evolutions of the human race,” explained Campbell. “Have you ever heard of the Inhumans?”