“Of course. An offshoot of humanity, created by the Kree thousands of years ago and yet similar in many respects to the species that is only now beginning to evolve naturally.”
“This computer is a treasure trove of information,” said Campbell. “Not only that, but it can run detailed analyses and accurate projections of staggering complexity, so fast that our only problem is keeping up with it. With somebody like you on board ..
“So, Doctor McCoy,” said Shaw, who was waiting by the doors, “I think you’ve seen enough to agree that I am offering you an unparalleled opportunity to achieve your goal.”
“Perhaps,” said Hank guardedly, his mind still racing with the possibilities.
“Which is surely what you hoped to find when you first volunteered to come here.”
“I can’t deny that.”
“Then perhaps you would like me to take you to see Doctor Mac-Taggert now.”
“If looks could kill,” muttered Hank, as he and Shaw retraced their steps to the entrance hall, the two Hellfire Club agents trailing a short distance behind them. “Campbell aside, your specialists don’t appear to think much of you-or of me, by association. The usual mutant phobia? Or have you done something in particular to arouse their ire?”
“My fault, I confess,” said Shaw. “They didn’t exactly volunteer for this project.”
“Oh yes,” said Hank, with distaste, “I’m well aware that Moira wasn’t your only recent kidnap victim. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Why are those people working for you at all?”
“Do you find it so strange that homo sapiens would help to combat a disease associated primarily with homo superior?” It was a rhetorical question, apparently, as Shaw didn’t give Hank time to answer. With a hollow laugh, he continued: “You're right, of course. You know as well as I do that scientists prepared to tackle the Legacy Virus have been thin on the ground, and funding even more so.” “That’s beginning to change.”
“Only now that that Legacy has spread to their kind!” spat Shaw. “Even so, too little, too late. I approached Scott, Takamoto and Travers with a reasonable offer. Good terms and conditions. They refused me. Even after I had brought them here, they needed ... further persuasion.”
Hank narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”
“I gave them a personal stake in our project.”
“You infected them with the vims, didn’t you?”
Shaw’s only answer was a smug smile, but it was enough for Hank to know that his accusation was true. He seized the lapels of the Black King’s jacket and lifted him bodily, slamming him back into the metal wall of the corridor and screaming into his face: “You bastard, you’ve given them the virus!” The guards reacted instantly, bringing up their guns and training them upon the X-Man’s head. By now, however, the Beast had Shaw pinned to the wall by his neck. He breathed heavily, bringing his anger back under control. His sudden outburst had surprised even him. But he had begun to see a solution to his problems, to the problems of the world. And then Shaw had reminded him of just how far he would have to compromise his ethics to achieve it. He had flaunted Hank’s helplessness, showed him that people were still dying around him, whatever he did.
To make matters worse, his enemy was unruffled. “May I remind you,” he said smoothly, “of my mutant ability to absorb kinetic energy.”
“It won’t do you much good,” said the Beast, tightening the hand that he held around Shaw’s throat, just a little, “if I apply enough pressure to your larynx to crush it.”
“Perhaps not,” Shaw conceded, in a husky but perfectly even voice. “However, your assault upon my person has already improved my strength and stamina. I can guarantee that you wouldn’t have time to do me serious harm before my agents could fire a considerable number of bullets into your brain.”
The Beast glared into Shaw’s inscrutable eyes for a long moment, then lowered him back to the floor and stepped away from him. The guards relaxed, and Shaw brushed out the creases in his maroon velvet jacket and picked off a blue hair. “Oh dear,” he said, without regret, “am I to take it that I’ve lowered your opinion of me?”
“I doubt I could think any less of you than I already did!” the Beast growled.
Shaw smiled, as if he had been complimented rather than insulted. “But you’re prepared to deal with me, nevertheless; to sell your soul to the devil in exchange for your heart’s desire.”
“That remains to be seen,” said Hank.
But he knew, deep down, that it was true.
Moira MacTaggert didn’t know what to expect when she heard footsteps outside her room.
It seemed like only a few minutes since Shaw had left her here. She had expected him to cast her into a dingy prison cell somewhere.
He had certainly been angiy enough when she had refused his offer to join him, although he had tried to hide it behind his usual mask of confidence. But then he had escorted her down here, to these quarters: a small room, to be sure, but carpeted and wallpapered and with a comfortable bed.
She had slept since then, sinking into the soft mattress and allowing exhaustion to overtake her. This time, there had been no dreams.
Now, as sturdy bolts were pulled back on the other side of the door, she scrambled to her feet. She had no idea how long she had slept. There were no windows in this underground complex, and her body clock was shot. Perhaps Shaw felt he had given her long enough to reconsider her decision. Perhaps he was here to put his proposal to her again. Perhaps, this time, he would not take no for an answer.
The door opened, and Moira felt a surge of relief at the sight of her blue-furred friend and colleague, Hank McCoy. Then she realized that he was standing between Sebastian Shaw and two Hellfire Club agents. “Och, Hank!” she blurted out. “Don’t tell me they got you too. Don’t tell me they thought you’d throw in your lot with that madman!”
She expected the Beast to respond with a ready quip. Instead, he turned to Shaw, a dejected look on his face, and asked: “Can you give us a few minutes alone?” To Moira’s puzzlement, Shaw nodded and motioned to his guards. They stepped aside, allowing Hank to enter the room. A guard closed the door behind him, but didn’t bolt it again.
Moira’s visitor greeted her with an embarrassed smile. “What’s going on, Hank?” she asked, frowning, already suspecting what he had to tell her but not wanting to believe it. “Are the other X-Men here too?”
He shook his head. “I came here alone, and of my own volition.”
“Lucky you!”
He raised an eyebrow. “Shaw led me to believe you hadn’t been hurt. If he was being less than truthful-”
She waved aside his concern. “I’m still in one piece. He hasn’t treated me too badly, all things considered. But Hank ...” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to say the words. But, as she looked into the Beast’s face, she knew they were true, and that there was no escaping them. “Hank—you’ve agreed to help him, haven’t you?”
He nodded, shamefacedly, avoiding her gaze. “I’m about to. I hoped you’d understand.”
“Understand? Hank, we’re talking about Sebastian Shaw!”
“I’m perfectly aware of that.”
“Then perhaps you’ve forgotten who he is. This is a mutant who builds Sentinels-robots specifically designed to hunt and kill other mutants-and sells them to the government. A man who once allied himself with the X-Men’s greatest enemy, Magneto. And how can you just overlook what he did to Jean?”
“I’m not overlooking anything,” said Hank, although he flinched visibly at the memories that Moira had stirred up. Moira herself could feel her temper flaring, as she thought about how Shaw and his Inner Circle had unleashed the monster called Dark Phoenix upon the universe. “But if he can help us to achieve something worthwhile—” “Then you're prepared to give him what he wants!”
“What he wants, Moira, is what we all want: a cure for the Legacy Virus.”
She shook her head. “No, Hank, what Shaw wants is pow
er. That’s all he’s ever wanted, and he doesn’t care who he steps on in the process of acquiring it. If he can find a cure, then what do you think he’ll do with it? Just hand it over to anyone who needs it?”
“I accept that his motives may not be entirely altruistic, but—” “But nothing! Shaw as good as told me he’d have control over who’d receive his cure and who wouldn’t. And he’d use that power, Hank, you know he would. Sebastian Shaw would decide who gets to live and who dies. Is that what you want?”
“If the alternative,” said Hank, in a quiet voice, “is that everybody dies, then wouldn’t it be preferable?”
“I don’t believe I’m hearing this.” Moira was almost lost for words. “After all the times we discussed this... after Campbell walked out on me ... I thought you were on my side.”
She must have touched a nerve, because Hank looked directly at her for the first time, his eyes pleading with her. “I am on your side, Moira, and I appreciate what you’re saying. I disapproved of Campbell’s defection as strongly as you did, and for the same reasons—but things have changed. Shaw is on the verge of a breakthrough, whereas our research has floundered. It is no longer germane to ask who will be the first to reach our mutual goal. The question is, can it be reached at all?”
“It can,” insisted Moira, “and we’ll reach it in our own way. It’s just a matter of time.”
“But we could have a cure now. Think, Moira!” Hank reached out and took her hands in his. His clawed fingers were surprisingly gentle. “We’d be saving lives. We’d be saving your life. I can make it a condition of my assisting Shaw that you be among the first group of patients to be treated. Isn’t that reason enough, on its own, to do this?”
“No! It’s too high a price to pay. We’d just be exchanging one problem for another.”
“A problem that seems insolvable for one that we can handle. It’s a fair exchange.”
“Oh, and you're so sure you can ‘handle’ Shaw?”
“We’ve beaten him before. If he gets his hands on a cure and misuses it, then we’ll fight him again. We can take the cure from him.” “So you say now. But what if you can’t?”
“Then at the very least I’ll have learned something. I’ll have had an opportunity to work with Kree technology, to study their records. And, just as importantly, we’ll know that a cure is possible, that our problem isn’t insolvable after all. Even without access to the machinery in this base we’ll have taken an important step closer to finding an answer for ourselves.”
“You’ll just have given Sebastian Shaw a head start.”
“Yes.”
“And what do you think he’ll do with that head start, Hank? Imagine an army of mutants, all doing his bidding because he’s the only person who can keep them alive. And I’m not just talking about the people who are suffering from the Legacy Virus already. How many more might he infect, if he knows it will give him complete control over them?”
“Or have you considered that he might just market the cure?” asked Hank. “That alone could earn him billions of dollars, and it would be perfectly legal.”
“It's not enough for a man like him!”
“What I’m saying, Moira, is that this is only speculation. You’re allying yourself with the Luddites; arguing that scientific advances shouldn’t be made for fear that somebody, some day, might abuse them.”
“That’s not fair, Hank, and you know it!”
“I’m merely proposing that we deal with the immediate problem.” “And to hell with the consequences?”
“No. But we’ll cross the next bridge if and when we come to it.” “There are no ‘ifs’ about it. For your information, Shaw has already kidnapped and infected three people. He’s forcing them to work for him.”
Hank bowed his head. “I know-and, granted, it does provide some cause for concern.” He looked up again, and Moira could see that he had made up his mind. “But it’s also one of the reasons I must do this. Those people upstairs are dying, and they have a cure for their ailment almost within their reach. How can I refuse to help them? How can I let them down, as I let William Montgomery-and too many before him—down?”
Moira breathed in deeply, and released her frustration in a long, heartfelt sigh. She sat down on the bed, and cradled her head in her hands. It was beginning to ache, so she closed her eyes and massaged her temples with her fingers.
After a few seconds, she heard the Beast padding across the room to join her, and felt the depression of the mattress as he seated himself by her side.
“I had hoped you would help me,” he said, softly.
She shook her head, wearily. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
'T share your reservations, but I truly believe this is the lesser of two evils.”
“I know you do. But I can’t agree.”
“Will you wish me luck, at least?”
“I hope things turn out the way you want them to.”
Hank smiled weakly, and they looked at each other with sad eyes. Then he stood again, walked over to the door and rapped sharply on it. Shaw came into the room, and glanced over at Moira. Hank responded with a mournful shake of his head.
They left without another word—and this time Moira heard the bolts sliding, making her a prisoner again. She lay back on the bed, a hundred thoughts chasing each other in her weary mind. Hank had seemed so sincere, so determined, and she respected his judgement. She had never imagined they could argue about something like this. What if she had been wrong? She thought she had taken a moral stand, acted on her principles. But what if she had just let her famous stubborn streak blind her? What if Hank had made the only practical choice?
Thanks to him, at least Shaw would leave her alone now, and-who knew?—his plans might come to fruition after all. The world would be rid of the scourge of the Legacy Virus and Moira wouldn’t be dying any more and the X-Men would take the cure out of Shaw’s hands and all she had to do was wait and everything would soon be all right.
Hope had long been a stranger to Moira MacTaggert, and she felt almost guilty about entertaining it now. But it was an intoxicating emotion, and she could quite see how it had entranced her erstwhile lab partner, creeping up on him when he had thought it gone.
The lure of a happy ending, no matter how improbable, was strong. But the more she thought about such an ending, the more unlikely it seemed.
Perhaps that made her a pessimist. But Moira couldn’t bring herself to believe that anything but ill could come of Hank McCoy’s decision today.
Tessa seated herself in her small, circular cubicle, and flexed her fingers as she prepared to go to work. She was surrounded by freestanding terminals, which gave her access to the colossal computer that serviced the alien base. The inscriptions on their keypads and display units were in the Kree language, but this didn’t bother her. Tessa’s mind had often been compared to a computer itself. She had deduced the purpose of every interface, learned how to operate each one and committed the information to her precise memoiy in hours. Sebastian Shaw had had experts analyze the computer for months, and Tessa herself had helped his scientists to access its basic func-tions-but nobody on this world knew it as well as she did.
She ran a series of basic checks on the island’s defense systems, almost without having to think about it. Idly, she reflected on the Beast’s arrival and wondered what effect it would have upon her employer’s plans. Sebastian would have to let him talk to Moira MacTaggert, of course. The Scots woman would tiy to dissuade him from his proposed course of action. She had a chance of succeeding. But then Tessa had seen inside Hank McCoy’s mind, and-despite his doubts-it was her considered opinion that he would not be swayed.
Tessa calculated that Sebastian might achieve his goals this time. If he did, it would be as much by luck as by judgement. As always, he had taken too many risks, and made some very bad decisions. She had cautioned him against involving Doctor MacTaggert in his schemes, predicting that she wouldn’t cooperate with him. He had ignored her
counsel.
It wasn’t that he didn’t listen to Tessa. He employed her as his personal assistant precisely because he admired her logic and valued her advice. But there was a definite limit to which he would let anybody change his mind once it had been made up. Tessa had realized this quickly, and had learned to stay in her place, to nudge her employer gently in the right direction without ever pushing him too hard.
She had long since given up trying to advise Sebastian about his alliances. It was almost as if he deliberately surrounded himself with people he couldn’t trust, as if it were a game to him. And then he would test them. He had two personalities: he could be charismatic-even seductive—one minute, a coldhearted monomaniac the next. He drew people to him, and then challenged them to betray him. Tessa just did her job, kept out of the way of such monsters as Selene and Madelyne Pryor, and helped to pick up the pieces when Sebastian’s power games inevitably exploded in his face.
Right now, she had an important role to play, and she intended to do her duty in the most efficient manner possible. Like Sebastian, Tessa had no doubt that the X-Men would locate this facility in time. She had to keep them from interfering with the project. With the technology at her disposal, she was confident she could do so.
She activated the vibro-screen that surrounded the island: its first line of defense. Then, with a practiced sweep of her hand, she brought a series of monitors to life in the curved wall around her. Each screen showed a different part of the forest above, each picture shot at an upward angle from ground level.
The computer reported that all other systems were active and standing by, and Tessa sat back in her seat and steepled her fingers. She was ready.
As if on cue, a red light began to wink on one of the alien terminals. The proximity alarm. This was how Sebastian had known about her own arrival, along with Fitzroy and the Beast. Tessa checked the readouts and smiled to herself, anticipating the challenge. An airplane was approaching the island, and the computer detected the energy signatures of seven mutants on board, none of whom were known to it. It could only mean one thing.
The Legacy Quest Trilogy Page 16
