Siege

by Christopher Golden

  It might have been the breeze. Just as likely, she derived her pleasure from the knowledge that Lilandra was incensed and powerless. Certainly, the prisoners had to be executed for their crimes and their likely connection to the growing rebellion. But Lilandra's concern for Corsair and Hepzibah would make their executions that much sweeter.

  A tinkling of chimes alerted her that someone was at the door to her aerie. Deathbird sighed, considering the burden of leadership, and rose to greet her visitor. When the door slid aside, Captain Lyb'Dyl nervously entered the chamber.

  "I can see from your quiver that you bear bad tidings, Captain," Deathbird said. "Myfirst guess would be that you did not retrieve the rebels who had the audacity to teleport onto Hala in the midst of a battle. However, you'd best be done with it. Give me your report and I will decide whether or not to let you live."

  There was no threat, nor even hostility, in her tone. Rather, she knew she must have sounded somewhat bored. She was used to the type of deference Captain Lyb'Dyl gave her, and to the punishments that she was too often forced to mete out.

  "Viceroy," he began rather breathlessly, "we searched all the inhabitable sections of Ryn-Dak but found no trace of the incursion force."

  He waited, head down, to see if Deathbird would maul him to death on the spot. When she did not strike, he continued, with an air of relief about him.

  "We did, however, get full descriptions from several citizens, which were confirmed by our spies in Ryn-Dak," Captain Lyb'Dylsaid proudly.

  Ashe described the newly arrived rebels, Deathbird's calm amusement began to dissipate. In moments, she was transformed, hands hooked into savage talons and eyes narrowed in predatory fury. Captain Lyb'Dyl barely noticed, so pleased was he with the detailed descriptions he had obtained.

  When Deathbird's left talon wrapped around his neck, claws biting skin, his eyes bulged in shock. Her right talon drove into his chest, tearing through flesh as she got her grip. The Captain shrieked in pain and terror as Deathbird lifted him above her head and carried him to the turret window of her aerie. She looked up into his eyes. Blood dripped from his neck onto her face.

  "You fool," she said in quiet rage. "The X-Men have come to Hala, and you failed to even locate them."

  Then she dropped him. Deathbird shook her head in disgust as Captain Lyb'Dyl plummeted, screaming, from the window. She licked his blood off her talons and went out the door, his screams diminishing but still audible in her chambers.

  "Get me Gladiator!" she commanded. "Have the Imperial Guard report to me at once."

  • • •

  The sub-basement in Ryn-Dak had a hidden tunnel that opened into a virtual warren of such passages. Cyclops had the feeling they had been there long before the Shi'ar took power on Hala, perhaps the lair of some criminal element. Now, however, the tunnels were home to a literal underground rebellion.

  They had followed Kam-Lorr in silence for the better part of an hour, in what Scott believed to be the general direction of the capital city. Then they had come upon a large cavern whose dimensions, according to Scott's natural talent for spatial geometry, were something like twenty-five feet wide by thirty-seven feet high. There they had rested, replenished their supplies, and moved on to what appeared to be a natural fissure.

  They found a set of crude stairs cut into the stone, and followed them up and into a bustling marketplace. The majority of the war's survivors had camped as close to Kree-Lar as they could get, living off the scraps of life the city left behind.

  "Allde hagglin' and tradin', plus de smells of so many differen' foods cookin' remind me of de French Market in New Orleans," Gambit said quietly.

  For Cyclops, the market was more reminiscent of the Egyptian bazaar he had seen when he and Storm had been in Cairo some years back. It wasn't just foods they smelled, but incense and perfumes, and less pleasant smells including animals and their offal. The combination was not completely repulsive, but Scott had no nostalgic fondness for the place the way Gambit did.

  They gathered in the dimly lit back room of a small shop where Kam-Lorr sold the things he had made at his forge. It was uncomfortably small, which only fueled the tension in the group, but after a moment, Kam-Lorr sighed and began to speak.

  "To say nothing of the Shi'ar who accompanies you, to whom none of us will speak, Kree have long held a hatred for Terrans," he began gravely. "The humans our race has encountered have ever stood in the path of Kree destiny, despite that they are far lesser beings."

  "Hold on there, sugar," Rogue said. "Don't start playin' victim now that you had your butts whupped. You all were tyrants long before this latest war, and us 'Terrans' didn't have anything at'all ta do with that."

  "You go, chere,' Gambit muttered under his breath.

  Cyclops cringed. All of the X-Men knew the value of diplomacy, but each of them had their own limits as to how much crap they were willing to take, even for diplomacy's sake. Perhaps because he, Jean, and Warren had been at it so much longer ...

  "We're wasting time," Warren said, cutting off Cyclops' conciliatory words before he could even voice them. "Shall we cut to the chase here? We're going in. If you're the rebels we've heard so much about, and Candide's one of yours, we were hoping for some assistance. If you don't plan to help, why don't you just point us in the right direction and get out of the way?"

  Cyclops dropped his head and his eyes darted over to Warren, who stood as if to leave. Archangel glanced at him and shrugged.

  "Sorry, Scott," he said. "But it's your father we're here for. We just don't have time for this tiptoeing around."

  "Your father?" Kam-Lorr asked in surprise. "Who is your father?"

  "Corsair, leader of the Starjammers," Cyclops replied, his voice and countenance hardened by Warren's blunt words. Archangel was right. He'd been trying to do things by the book, not let his emotions regarding his father make him lose control and ignore common sense and caution. But maybe, he thought, maybe there were times throwing caution to the wind was the only sensible course of action.

  "Starjammers?" Kam-Lorr snarled, rising to his feet. "The Starjammers were part of the Shi' ar effort to unleash the nega-bomb, And you want us to help you free this man?"

  Before Cyclops could move, Raza had launched himself across the table with surprising speed, knocking Kam-Lorr to the ground.

  "Stay thee back!" he yelled, holding the gleaming sharp edge of his sword under the Kree rebel's throat even as the X-Men took up defensive positions.

  "Raza?" Cyclops said tentatively.

  "A moment, young Summers," Raza said, then leaned in and spoke softly to Kam-Lorr, venom dripping from every word.

  "Thou know as well as I, blue-skin, that the Kree Supreme Intelligence wast ultimately responsible for the nega-bomb's use," he began. "I be Raza of the Starjammers, and I wast one of those who didst reluctantly shepherd the nega-bomb, So wast Hepzibah, who is a captive of thy current ruler. Corsair, however, wast not among us that day. Thou wouldst do well to remember this. Remember also that, no matter the sides we didst choose in a long-ended struggle, now doth we share an enemy, and a cause in common."

  Raza sheathed his sword and offered his hand to Kam-Lorr, who looked at it with loathing. He rose to his feet without Raza's aid.

  "If you will vow to rescue Candide as well as your comrades," Kam-Lorr announced, "though the idea of helping you nauseates me, I will show you how you may enter Kree-Lar undetected."

  Cyclops was about to offer his thanks when he heard a crash outside and the scuffle of running feet. Several people shrieked and there was a pounding on the door.

  "What is ... " he began to ask.

  "Everybody outside!" Jean cried. "Move!"

  Gambit was at the back of the pack. The shop exploded in a burst of flame and ash, throwing him a dozen yards. Rogue caught him and went down hard in the street.

  "Surrender, X-Men, or be executed where you stand!" a deep voice boomed above them.

  Cyclops searched the sky for the source
of the command. He saw Starbolt, and realized it was he whose power had destroyed the shop. Even before he saw Gladiator flying through the rising smoke, he knew the danger the X-Men faced.

  "Imperial Guard!" Rogue shouted, and flew to confront Gladiator.

  He knocked her out of the sky.

  Chapter 8

  Charles Xavier sat in his private study sipping mint tea. All communications were relayed to him there. Still, he felt detached from both the crisis on Hala, which he could not monitor at all, and the one in Colorado. At the moment, however, the situation in Colorado concerned him the most. Hank ought to have reported in by now, but Xavier had heard nothing. He tried to calm himself, to reassure himself that the X-Men were more than capable of dealing with whatever dangers came their way.

  It didn't help. He'd sent them into the field hundreds of times, and still he felt the need to be there with them. Despite his great power, his inability to walk almost always made him a liability in the field. But that knowledge didn't help either. Nothing could keep him from worrying.

  A rhythmic buzz began to sound in the study, and Xavier brightened.

  "Hello, Lilandra," he said, even as the holographic image of his lover shimmered to life in the center of the study.

  "Charles, my love," Lilandra acknowledged.

  Though she was galaxies distant, Lilandra's Imperial Insta-Link provided a three dimensional image. The lustre of her skin, her proud stance, and her every curve were perfectly communicated to his senses. It made his yearning for her a truly painful ache.

  Charles Xavier had never been very good at relationships. He had, in fact, been accused of having found the perfect lover in Lilandra specifically because of her distance. Their responsibilities kept them apart, his to the X-Men and Earth's mutant population, and hers to the entire Shi'ar Empire. Perhaps it was better that way, in a sense, for they relished whatever little time they did have together. There was, however, a fundamental melancholy to their romance that he found impossible to overcome, for they both feared that distance and destiny would tear them apart.

  "I have done all I can, my love," she said in despair.

  "Deathbird is aware of the X-Men's presence on Hala, and has set the Imperial Guard after them."

  "The Guard?" he exclaimed. "But ... "

  "There is nothing I can do, Charles. She is within her rights," Lilandra explained. "Corsair and the others will be executed at midday tomorrow. I only pray that the X-Men do not share their fate."

  "I ... thank you, Lilandra," Xavier said. No other words would come.

  "Charles," she said tentatively. "I know that your obligations are as important in their way as are my own ... "

  "But you want to know when I might visit the Imperium again as your Royal Consort, since we both know Shi'ar business won't bring you to Earth any time soon," he finished for her, smiling slightly. "Ah, my love, don't I wish I could simply think of it and be at your side. Or just as nicely, have real time to take a vacation from all of this with the confidence that things wouldn't fall apart in my absence.

  "But you know what happened the last time I left Earth for a prolonged period," he continued. "The problem was multiplied geometrically. If the X-Men had been heading to Chandilar instead of to Hala, I would have accompanied them no matter the consequences. As it stands, Lilandra, I just don't know when we'll see one another again."

  "I could send a ship at any time, you know," she urged. "Only say the word, and we could be ... "

  "You know it isn't that easy," he said sadly. "Why make it more difficult for both of us?"

  "You're correct, of course, Charles. I apologize. I will let you know if I have news," she said, and blinked out of existence, leaving behind a void that began to leech the hope from Charles Xavier's heart.

  Little more than a minute had passed before the image of Val Cooper's face, much larger than life, burst onto the vid-screen in the study.

  "Cooper to Xavier," she said in a hushed voice. "It's urgent, Charles, where the hell are you?"

  He paused a moment before responding, still not recovered from the painful conversation with Lilandra.

  "Xavier!" Cooper hissed.

  Having eschewed his hover-chair this afternoon for the more conventional steel wheelchair, Xavier used his hands to push himself into view.

  "What is it, Valerie?" he asked, though the look on her face filled him with dread as he anticipated her answer.

  "It's Gyrich, of course," she said softly. "He's ordered his toy soldiers to capture the X-Men, or terminate them with prejudice. He's going to claim they're responsible for the Colora-"

  Cooper's image disappeared from the screen as Xavier disconnected the call. Immediately, he punched in the four digit code that would give him emergency communication with the X-Men. Dead air was the only response. He punched the code in twice more with the same result. The fourth time was the charm. It rang twice, and then connected.

  All Xavier could hear was the hiss of static.

  • • •

  "Bishop, no!" Storm shouted.

  Iceman looked over at them just in time to see Bishop take aim at Colonel Tomko with his plasma rifle. He reacted instinctively, raising both hands and simply willing the moisture in the air to freeze into a solid block of ice around Bishop's weapon and hands. It didn't stop Bishop from firing, but when he did, the rifle exploded in his hands, throwing him back half a dozen feet. He landed, angry but unhurt, on his butt.

  "Are you out of your mind?" Bishop screamed at him. "We've got to get in there, don't you see? The military is probably part of it themselves, you idiot!"

  "Not too paranoid, eh Bish?" Iceman mocked, but Bishop's words stung nevertheless. It was the great burden of his life that he was rarely sure of his actions. He didn't know for certain that Bishop was wrong, only that firing first and asking questions later wasn't the way the X-Men did business.

  "Good move, kid," Wolverine said in his low, rasping voice. "Though if ya coulda done it without blowin' up Bishop's weapon, I'd be more inclined to applaud."

  "It was the sole option, given the circumstances, Wolverine," the Beast said, and Bobby silently thanked Hank for his support. It disturbed him though, that he had to wonder whether that support was genuine, or offered out of friendship.

  "Colonel Tomko," Storm shouted, still making no move to approach the soldiers, "we have come as allies, to prevent the Sentinels from being unleashed upon the world. In anyone's hands. You would do well to utilize our skills."

  There was a long pause, and they could all see the colonel on some kind of communications rig. They waited, motionless, Storm glaring at Bishop from time to time to keep him in place. The soldiers' weapons never wavered, though the tension must have begun to make their trigger fingers itch. Finally, Tomko dropped the comm rig.

  "X-Men, I have my orders," he called through his bullhorn. "You will surrender yourselves to our custody immediately, or you will be terminated. You have to the count of five to surrender."

  "One," he began.

  "You think he can count all the way to five?" Iceman asked with forced amusement, attempting to ignore the nausea that rose in his stomach.

  None of the others laughed.

  "Two."

  "Bishop," Storm said quietly. "They appear to be armed with plasma rather than projectile weapons."

  "Don't worry about me," Bishop answered, and Iceman realized what they were talking about. Bishop's mutant ability was to absorb energy and channel it into destructive bursts through his hands. Traditional projectile weapons, which fired bullets of varying types, might harm or kill him. Plasma, or energy, weapons, would only serve to make him more powerful. That Storm had pointed this out could mean only one thing.

  "Three."

  Iceman had expected nothing less.

  "Gentlemen," Storm said. "Please try not to do anyone irreparable damage. Are we ready?"

  "Four."

  Iceman wasn't ready. They had faced worse odds and come out on top. He had been tra
ining for years, honing his skills on this and three other teams over the years, perfecting the use of his powers. Still, he was just "Bobby," the baby of the group though no longer the youngest X-Man. What were his powers compared to Jean's or Rogue's, even Scott's or Storm's? He didn't have Hank's genius, or Bishop's experience as a field leader. Maybe he had a decent sense of humor, but that wasn't much of an asset. In the end, he had his ice powers and he did the best he could with them.

  That would have to be enough. But it didn't mean he was ever really ready to face a situation like this.

  "Five,"Colonel Tomko said, and paused. Bobby supposed he was hoping they would finally give in. They didn't.

  "Fire!"

  There was a heartbeat when the only thing Iceman could hear was the chirping of crickets in the forest behind them. Then dozens of crackling bursts shredded the very fabric of the air around them and combined to imitate the roar of a catastrophic fire. As the sound of the plasma weapons discharging settled down to a generator drone that reminded Bobby of a dentist's drill, the X-Men were already taking offensive action.

  Iceman whipped up an ice wall behind them with his left hand and kept replenishing the wall as the soldiers blasted it away. With his right hand he fired hail, icicles, whatever he could think of to disarm as many soldiers as he could reach. The best he could do was try to see that the others didn't get injured.

  Storm whipped up a gale force wind that literally sucked the soldiers from the back of one of the transports and tossed them, none too gently, into the trees beyond. After that, half a dozen bolts of lightning struck the empty transport, which exploded in a blinding flash of heat. Her winds whisked the shrapnel away.

  Bobby wanted to remind Storm of her admonition not to injure the soldiers, but thought better of it. Besides, he had more on his mind. A small band of soldiers had seen what he was doing, keeping the rear guard from moving in, and had begun to take aim directly at him. He had to defend himself, which left Hank, Wolverine, and Bishop undefended for the moment.