Still, neither side seemed assured of victory. And there were no X-Men in sight.
"Gladiator!" Deathbird shrieked. "The X-Men are after the prisoners. Stop them, or you will die in their stead!"
Though he knew the Majestrix would not allow such an irrational waste of his talents, that did not allow him to ignore the order. Still, he could not simply abandon the madwoman to the Kree. Though he would dearly have loved to do so.
"Oracle, Starbolt, with me!" he shouted to be heard over the din, and squinted against the flash of blaster fire. A laser struck him in the chest, forcing him backward. It singed his uniform, and he wrinkled his nose at the smell.
"Titan, Warstar, stay here and protect the Viceroy," Gladiator ordered, then set off down into the prison levels at a run.
• • •
The first time Rogue had met the X-Men was in battle against them. She had been raised by one of their greatest enemies, a shapechanger named Mystique. Though she'd loved her foster mother for the home she'd provided, Rogue had never seen the world in the same way. When her powers went awry, she had reached out to Charles Xavier for help. Not only because she believed he could help her, but because the X-Men represented something she desperately wanted. A simple thing, really. To be good, to be confident in her actions, in the cause she was fighting for.
What she got was so much more than that. Though Mystique would always be Rogue's mother, with the X-Men, she had a family. Together with honor, they were the only things worth fighting for, worth dying for if it came to that.
They had just turned a corner, and were rushing down a gleaming metal hallway. Archangel was airborne, his wingspan limited in the hall. From time to time the organic metal would strike the wall, and sparks would fly, but Warren didn't even slow down.
Beside Rogue, Jean Grey ran hard. Though her mind was an extraordinary weapon, her body was that of a normal, human woman. With her own enhanced physiology, Rogue tended to forget what kind of exertion a normal body could take. Running next to Jean, she was both reminded of this, and astounded by the degree to which Jean surpassed it.
The footfalls echoed on the metal floor.
"Might as well have a herd of elephants comm through here, Jean," Rogue said. "No way we're gonna get the drop on these folks."
"No time for subtleties," Jean said between breaths. "I've even stopped trying to block our location from Oracle's probes. They know we're here. They've got to also know where we'd be headed."
"Okay, then," Rogue said, determined. "We'll hit 'em fast and hard and get out of here."
"Thanks for backing my play, Rogue," Jean said.
"Anytime, sugar."
They came to a junction, and Jean called ahead to Warren that he should go left. Rogue marveled at the precision with which Archangel made the maneuver. At that flight speed, she figured she probably would have hit the wall. Course, hitting the wall wouldn't hurt her near as much as it would Warren.
Rogue heard slapping footsteps resounding off the floor even as she and Jean turned the corner at the junction. Blaster fire followed, but far back in the hall where they had come from. She heard Gambit and Raza cursing, then the crackle of energy as they returned fire. Remy and the Starjammer were covering their rear, keeping the Shi'ar soldiers who had pursued them at bay.
She heard them running again, but didn't dare look back. Their only priority was getting to Cyclops and the others and getting out. Remy knew what he was doing. This type of running battle might not be his style-he was more at home with intrigue and one-on-one confrontations-but Gambit knew what the job was, and how to get it done. And after all, Raza was there as well. Rogue figured the Starjammers had been so despised as pirates that they were probably bored by close-quarters armed conflict.
We're close, now. Turn right at the next junction, and I think it'll be at the end of the hall, Jean's voice was in her head, but Rogue thought the words were for Archangel, and perhaps for Cyclops as well.
They Wereclose, though, that was good. Soon they could get off this devastated, poverty-stricken world, and back to their own. She smiled grimly at her own cynicism. Then she realized that, after seeing Hala, Earth seemed to be in pretty good shape. Rogue didn't know whether to be cheered or depressed by the thought.
There was more blaster fire behind them. She heard Gambit and Raza cursing again-bonding under fire, she thought. Then the entire hallway lit up orange with an explosion that knocked Rogue forward off her feet. Jean was on the ground as well, but only for a moment. They were back up in the time it took for Rogue to scream "Remyl"
"Keep goin' petite," Gambit called from the debris strewn hall behind them. Be and Raza were up and dusting off, seemingly unhurt other than a bloody scratch on Remy's forehead. "It gonna be a while before de Shi'ar blast dere way through de little roadblock we just left behind."
"Let's go," Jean said, tugging her arm.
Rogue looked at Remy one last time. Even at the other end of the hallway, she could see him wink at her, that mischievous smile on his face. With Raza moving backward, keeping his blaster trained on the pile of debris that blocked off the junction, they started toward where Rogue and Jean stood. Gambit was limping.
"Don' worry, Gambit's cornin'," he said. "Jus' twist my ankle, is all. You get going, we be along pretty quick."
"Rogue," Jean urged.
Then they were running again. Archangel had stopped before the junction up ahead to wait for them. Now, he took two steps and lifted off once more. At the junction, he arced wide and started down the final hallway.
Suddenly, he whipped his wings out in front of him and dropped his legs down to stand. Blaster fire sparked off his wings and several of his wing knives shot out down the hall in response. Then he had ducked back down toward Rogue and Jean.
"Six of them with blasters," Warren said as they reached his side. "Two more cranking up something else. Something big. Looks a little like a plasma cannon, but the nozzle has some kind of dish on it. I have no idea what it is."
" 'Tis a neural disruptor," Raza said as he and Gambit caught up with the others. "Thou wilt find it far more effective than a mere blaster. Whilst a blaster may wound thy body, this weapon shall cause all of thy nerve endings to fire at once."
"Try dat again in English, homme," Gambit said, shrugging his shoulders.
"It hurts," Jean said simply. "And my guess is that even Rogue might not be able to stay conscious if she was hit by it."
"So what now?" Rogue asked.
"We take it away from them," Jean said grimly. "This has already been too long a delay as far as I'm concerned. Gambit, Raza, be ready with blasters. Warren, when the weapon is out of their hands, take them all down with your wing knives."
"Jean, you know I don't like to ..." Warren began, but then let it go.
Rogue knew what he was going to say, that he didn't like to use his wing knives because he could not truly control them; Her ability to steal skills, memories, powers bothered her in much the same way. She understood. But she also knew that Jean's plan was the most expedient. And time was of the essence. Warren obviously knew that as well.
"Rogue ... " Jean began, but she was way ahead of their leader-by-proxy.
"I'll shield you, of course," she said quickly. She could see that Jean was about to protest, to offer her an out, to warn her of the possible danger. There wasn't time for any of that.
"Let's go," Rogue said.
With Jean behind her, Rogue stepped out into the hallway into a barrage of ineffective blaster fire. It was impossible to see the force, the psionic "hands" that Jean's telekinetic power used to manipulate objects. But that didn't mean she couldn't see its effects.
Even as the Neural Disruptor erupted, the dish around its muzzle focusing its energies on her—even as Rogue screamed with pain, her brain overloading with signals from every point in her nervous system—she saw the weapon explode into dozens of pieces. At least it seemed to. In reality, Jean had reached out for the thing with her telekinesis and
torn it apart, flattening the two soldiers who had wielded it.
Rogue couldn't appreciate the drama, however. She had collapsed in the hall.·Jean was at her side immediately. Rogue felt her teammate probing her mind for damage, felt Jean's relief, and shared it, as she found none. In a moment, she was sitting up. Gambit sat by her, holding her right hand, stroking it gently, unconsciously. He didn't say a word, but his grin when she got to her feet was communication enough.
"I guess I missed the exciting part," Rogue said as she surveyed the hallway, where the Shi'ar soldiers lay, paralyzed by Archangel's wing-knives.
They all stood there looking at her, even Jean, whose lover was still captive only yards away. Even Raza, who had no reason to care for her. Their concern was just another reminder of what she was fighting for. This was her family. For better or worse, they were the only family she had ever really had, or was ever really likely to have.
"What are y'all gawking at?" she asked. "Let's get the hell outta here."
• • •
Cyclops sagged against his restraints in despair, hoping desperately that Jean and the other X-Men would arrive soon. He was not in any extraordinary pain, nor did he have any real doubt or anxiety about their ability to come to the rescue. Put simply, he couldn't stand being in the same room with his fellow inmates.
"Guilty she is!" Hepzibah snarled, then hissed at Candide, who glared back at her. "Fool you, Corsair. Cannot believe you, I. Death sentence, we have, all because still love her, you!"
"I don't still love her," Corsair insisted, and his exasperated tone matched Scott's own waning patience.
"Oh, thank you so much," Candide said, honey sweet voice filled with sarcasm.
"Don't you start," Corsair snapped, and the Kree/Shi'ar halfbreed only smiled. "I figured you for a mercenary to the core. If I'd had any idea you knew what you were getting into, that you were actually smuggling arms to the Kree rebellion, I never would have risked my life and the lives of my crew to come and get you."
"So, what you're saying is, because you thought I was a heartless bitch whose only concerns were financial, you felt like you needed to save my life?" Candide asked with a knowing smirk.
"Still love her, you do," Hepzibah growled. "Admit it, can you not?"
"Enough!" Corsair shouted, then continued through clenched teeth. "Hepzibah, you know that I love you. Only you. I'll admit I had a little crush on Candide back in our early freebooting days. But that was a long time ago, and nothing ever happened between us. Did it, Candide?"
The smuggler was silent.
"Candide?" Corsair asked again, the warning clear in his tone.
"Not for lack of my trying," she answered finally, and everybody seemed to relax. Scott himself breathed a sigh of relief, though none of the conversation pertained to him.
"Okay, maybe I was stupid to come after her," Corsair went on, speaking only to his lover, Hepzibah, now. "Maybe I've still got an old-fashioned damsel-indistress program running in my head. The Starjammers wouldn't be in trouble now, and I wouldn't have dragged my son and his friends in after us. But it's too late for recriminations now. We've been in tighter spots than this and gotten out. Scott's already told us all we have to do is just sit back and wait for the cavalry to arrive."
There was a moment of silence when all three of them looked at Cyclops, who smiled sheepishly at the attention.
"Believe you, maybe I do," Hepzibah said. "Love you, that you know. Doubt your handsome son, not at all do I. But what if never come, the cavalry? Then what do we?"
"An excellent question, Mademoiselle Hepzibah," Candide agreed.
"Scott?" Corsair said, and looked at his son with inquiring eyes.
"They'll come," Cyclops said confidently. "And if they don't, we'll figure a way out of here. Or we'll die. Pretty simple, really."
Silence descended upon the cell once more. Moments later, it was broken by the screech of tearing metal, a distorted underwater-style echo that made Cyclops wince and close his eyes. There was a series of loud, staccato popping sounds, then the door seemed to burst outward, sparks flying as the cell's technosecurity shorted out.
Rogue stood just outside the cell, holding the crumpled door in her harids. She threw it aside with ease and it landed in the hall with a resounding crash.
"The cavalry," Scott said simply, as Rogue rushed into the cell with Jean Grey at her side.
"Jean!" Corsair boomed. "It's a pleasure to see you, as always. My son offer to make an honest woman out of you yet?"
Cyclops blushed, but Jean merely laughed.
"Not yet," she said with a wink, then her demeanor became far more serious. "We're all present and accounted for, Scott, but the Imperial Guard will probably be along any second. We've really got to get out of here."
"You can start by getting us down from here," Candide snapped, and Cyclops saw Jean's eyes narrow in annoyance and contempt.
"Candide, I presume?" Jean asked.
"Is not her strong point, charm," Hepzibah sneered, and it took Scott a moment to decipher the insult. Jean, apparently, had no such difficulty.
"That's fairly obvious," she said. "A lot of people have risked their lives to get you out of here. A little gratitude might be in order."
"You didn't come here for me, Terran," Candide observed.
"But you get me out of here alive, and you can be sure I'll be grateful."
"The cell is offline," Corsair said, ignoring the exchange. "It shouldn't take much to shake us loose from these restraints.
He was right. After a few moments, and several well placed optic blasts from Cyclops, they were able to free themselves with relative ease. In the time it took to do so, Archangel, Gambit and Raza had all joined them in the cell.
"Beautiful," Warren sighed, "now we're all in prison."
"Not for long," Cyclops replied, then turned to Corsair. "Dad, why don't you signal Ch'od to teleport us out of here, and we can all go home?"
Blaster fire shook the hall outside the cell.
"And perhaps thou ought to make haste, my captain," Raza added.
Corsair pressed the comm-badge on his chest and was greeted with the hiss of static.
"Interference," he said confidently. "Ch'od, this is Corsair, do you read me? Come in, Ch'od."
Static, crackling, popping, then finally: "Ch'od here, Captain. Good to hear your voice."
"You too, old friend. But we're in a bit of a hurry here. Prepare to teleport nine aboard the Starjammer," Corsair ordered.
More hissing, then: "There's nothing I would enjoy more, Corsair, but I'm afraid it's impossible. Teleporter's still down. It will take days to fix it."
"Damn," Corsair said under his breath.
Cyclops felt the dread overtake him in an instant. For once, nobody had a wisecrack to make. They all simply stood, in silence, glancing around at one another to see what the next move would be. Corsair looked at Hepzibah, and though they did not have the psychic rapport that he shared with Jean, Scott could see that some unspoken communication passed between them.
"Only chance, it is," Hepzibah said, and laid a comforting hand on Corsair's shoulder.
"Not to rush you," Cyclops said to his father, "but the blaster fire sounds closer, and the Guard's probably ..."
"Probably nothing!" Jean said, holding one hand to her head as she often did while making a psionic scan.
"They'll be here in seconds!"
Corsair slapped his comm-badge once more, making his decision in that instant.
"Ch'odl Planetfall!" he barked. "Come and get us!"
Before he could ask another question, Corsair put his hands on Scott's shoulders and looked into his eyes. "We've got to go up," he said, "as far as we can."
Then he looked around the cell at the others gathered there, Starjammers and X-Men, and one lone halfbreed smuggler.
"If we don't make it to the dome, we're going to die in this hellhole."
Chapter 15
The Acolytes were still putting up somet
hing of a fight, but the tide had clearly turned. It would be mere moments before the last of them, the Kleinstock Brothers, were contained. The X-Men had defeated the Acolytes in open combat.
That in mind, Hank McCoy could not figure out what was causing the anxiety that was rising to a fever pitch in his mind. Just as the X-Men were not at full force, neither had the Acolytes had their entire roster present for the confrontation. It was possible there were more still inside, but Hank had to assume the others would have come to the aid of their comrades when the battle turned against them.
The same was true for Magneto. If he was inside the facility, why had he not emerged to protect his flock in their time of need?
"What is it, Hank?" Storm asked, and he explained.
"What might he conceivably expect to accomplish, other than the demolition of the Sentinels?" the Beast asked. "And if that is Magneto's design, the ultimate strike against Operation: Wideawake, I'm not unconditionally confident I would be predisposed to thwart him." .
"Nor I," Storm agreed.
"That isn't it, though," Hank continued, more to himself than to Ororo. "If it was, Magnus would anticipate that the X-Men would have conflicting emotions. He would not have directed the Acolytes against us."
As they were speaking, Bishop had absorbed what energies the Kleinstocks had still had, and they had fallen unconscious to the grass. Wolverine stood by Storm as Hank spoke, and the Canadian's response was typical.
"We can stand out here and jaw about this 'til mornin', folks," Wolverine said, brandishing his claws. "But the only way we're gonna find out anything is by goin' up there and knockin' on Magneto's door. Believe me, if he's in there, he'll answer."
The Beast looked at Storm. She was the field leader, but due to his experience, not just with this team, but with the Avengers and Defenders, she often looked to him for guidance. There was a question in her eyes, which was uncommon. Hank had found that, more often than not, Ororo knew what to do merely by instinct. He suspected that was one of the reasons Charles had made her the team's second-in-command, after Cyclops. This time, however, she seemed unsure.
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