Siege

by Christopher Golden

  He understood her trepidation. They had already encountered federal troops. Though they had defeated the Acolytes, if Magneto was not inside they would be breaking into a top-secret U.S. military base. That would be bad. On the other hand, if Magneto were actually inside, one reason for him not to have emerged during the battle was if the entire thing was an elaborate ruse. Some kind of trap.

  "We can't take any chances," Hank said, and Storm nodded.

  "Bishop and Iceman take point," she said. "Iceman, give us an ice slide down. Wolverine, watch for more Acolytes once we're in. If Magneto is down there, we'll have to take him out quick if we're going to take him out at all."

  The X-Men moved swiftly toward the unassuming brick building that masked the huge military base and silo that existed under they ground they were crossing. The Beast knew it was unwise to leave the Acolytes simply laying about the field, that any moment one or more of them might revive and attack once again, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  Bobby and Bishop were in the lead, perhaps twenty yards from the two-story structure, when it exploded, blasting them across the field to slam hard against the chain-link fence that surrounded it. Hank didn't see what happened to Storm and Wolverine, but in a moment he found himself lying on his back, staring up at the darkening sky. The Beast blocked his eyes from the glare of the sun. It took him a moment to realize that what he was seeing was not the sun at all.

  Magneto hung suspended in the air above the field, a sizzling, green ball of magnetic energy around him and three of his Acolytes: Voght, Javitz, and another that the Beast recognized as the techno-linguist, Milan. Javitz seemed to have recovered quite well from the wounds Wolverine had inflicted upon him, Hank noticed.

  The Beast picked himself up off the ground, not worried about whether or not his actions appeared threatening. They had skirmished often enough that they both knew Hank posed no danger to Magneto from the ground.

  "Hear me, X-Men!" Magneto declared. "For the duration of this conflict, you have lived by my sufferance alone. From this day forward, the same will be true."

  Hank was stunned to see that, though she was usually the least fervent of Magneto's followers, Amelia Voght was gazing at her lord and master with a look he could only perceive as awe. Javitz still seemed disoriented, but Milan stood rigid by Magneto, his face beaming with serenity. In that moment, the Beast grasped the profound nature of the Acolytes' worship of their master. Not the basis for it, but its depth.

  The blue fur stood up on his back and neck, and Hank McCoygnawed his lip, deeply disturbed.

  "They're moving!" Wolverine shouted behind him, and Hank turned quickly to see that, indeed, the Acolytes were rising from the field. One Kleinstock twin—Hank could not tell which—carried his still unconscious brother, and Frenzy had Senyaka over her shoulder. But the Acolytes had become a threat once again, now that their master had arrived.

  Beyond them, across the field, Hank saw Bishop carrying Bobby toward them, slung over his shoulder in a bizarre imitation of Frenzy and Senyaka. He knew that Bishop's powers would have allowed him to absorb the brunt of the explosion Magneto had caused. Iceman had not been so lucky. Either the force of the explosion itself or his impact with the fence had knocked Bobby unconscious.

  Hank wanted to go to him. They had been friends for a long time, and it was hard not to put his friends first. But there were far more pressing matters at hand.

  "Though I fear I know your answer, I make you this offer now," Magneto continued. "Mutants must conquer humanity. There is no other option which will guarantee the survival of our race. I open my arms to you all. There will be sanctuary for our kind, I will see to it. And there is a place for you in the hierarchy of that sanctuary, should you choose to seek it."

  Silence followed this pronouncement. The Acolytes they had so recently battled glared at them as they passed, but in a moment they were lifted, one by one, to hover in the ever-expanding bubble their master had created and was sustaining with only a portion of his power. Hank, Logan, and Bishop—with the unconscious Iceman—gathered close around Storm.

  "What's the plan, 'Roro?" Logan asked, but Storm held up her hand.

  "As you say, Magneto," she called to him. "You know our response all too well. Whatever your current plot is, we stand against you as always. There is nothing noble in conquest. You are sadly deluded if you believe the world will ever bow to you as its emperor."

  "Not deluded, my dear Ororo," Magneto said pleasantly. "Merely practical."

  "That's it!" Wolverine snarled. Hank tried to hold him back, but Logan ran ahead until he was almost directly beneath the shimmering ball of magnetic energy that held Magneto and his followers aloft. In the descending darkness, the green glow bathed the X-Men's faces in a sickly aura.

  "We're all a little sick o' your delusions o' grandeur, bub," Logan called up to him, brandishing his claws. "Why don't you come on down and we can discuss this like the savages we are?"

  Magneto shook his head. His sigh was audible, even from the field.

  "One of these days, Wolverine ..." Magneto began, and it was almost enough to get Hank to smile when Logan interrupted.

  "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before. To the moon, Alice," Wolverine sneered. "Now you gonna get down and dirty, or not?"

  "I think not," Magneto replied.

  The mutant master of magnetism lifted one hand and a blast of the same green energy flashed around his fist, then arced high above the field and into the forest beyond.

  Hank was the first to realize what Magneto's target had been.

  "The Blackbird," he said aloud.

  "Indeed, McCoy," Magneto confirmed. "You will not, however, have to walk from here to the Xavier Institute. Rather than tear your vessel apart, I generated a focused electro-magnetic pulse that should make it inoperable for several hours. At the very least, that will keep you from inconveniencing me while I put my plans into action."

  "How benevolent," Hank said, rolling his eyes.

  "You forget yourself, Magnus!" Storm yelled suddenly, She raised her arms above her head, and immediately, the rain began to fall hard upon the X-Men. The wind came up strong enough to force Hank back a step. Lightning flashed from the sky and struck Magnero's levitating force field, and some of the Acolytes cursed and ducked, shielding their faces. They need not have worried, however, as the lightning was immediately absorbed into the ball, which glowed yellow for a moment before returning to its green hue.

  "You forget that one among us has the power of flight!"Storm called, above the roar of the wind which began to lift her off the ground.

  "Ororo, no!" Hank shouted. He reached for her legs, trying to keep her from facing Magneto and the Acolytes alone. But he was too late. In the blink of an eye she was airborne, calling down the lightning to strike repeated at their enemies.

  "I have no wish to hurt you, Storm," Magneto said "One day you, all of you, will come to me in supplication. Until then, I bid you adieu."

  Magneto turned to Voght and nodded. The green energy field flared brightly. Hank squinted, shielded his eyes with one hand, but still he could not see beyond the glaring light. Then as suddenly as it began, the flare ended.

  With total darkness.

  Only the moon and stars gave them light. Magneto and the Acolytes were gone. Amelia Voght had teleported them away, and the X-Men had no way to track them, or to even begin to understand what Magneto's purpose might have been. Allin all, Hank thought sullenly, it had been a very unproductive day.

  "Whoa! Hello? Bishop, put me down, man," Bobby said weakly, finally conscious again.

  Hank watched his old friend steady himself as Bishop lowered him to the ground. Iceman looked around, obviously confused.

  "Okay, let's see," Bobby said, the usual jesting tone in his voice. "Dark out, nobody here but us chickens. We won, right?"

  "Sadly, no, Robert," Storm answered.

  "Didn't even get the chance, kid," Wolverine added.

  "We are here, however,"
Storm reasoned. "Before the military is able to erase this event and this base from history, we must determine. the extent of Operation: Wideawake's capacity here, and the amount of damage Magneto has done."

  "Once more into the breach, my friends," the Beast added with a laugh.

  They had not taken a dozen paces toward the rubble that had once been a building when the ground began to shake violently. Its vibration threw Bishop and Ice man to the ground and Storm lifted off with the wind beneath her. Hank and Wolverine were able to keep their footing, but only barely.

  "An earthquake?" Bobby asked. 'What else could go wrong today?"

  "I've got a real bad feeling about this," Wolverine said in his gravely voice.

  Hank was filled with dread once again. There could only be one explanation for the way the ground was pitching and rolling beneath them. A moment later, Bishop confirmed his worst fears.

  "Not an earthquake," the future-born mutant shouted over the rumble of the Earth. "I know the sound all too well. It's the Sentinels preparing for deployment."

  "Goddess, no!" Storm cried. "X-Men, fall back! Fall back!"

  They all moved to follow her orders, streaking toward the metal fence and the forest beyond. Storm whipped the wind up into such a hurricane-like frenzy that it tore the fence away, leaving only the dense forest beyond.

  As they ran, the ground shook beneath them. Then it buckled. Behind them, a huge hole began to open as two massive plates of Earth lifted like a drawbridge. The X-Men pitched forward into a yawning chasm where the ground rushed down to fill the space opening beneath it.

  "It's a modified missile silo!" Hank yelled. "Everyone get clear!"

  His words were too late to warn them. But these were the X-Men. They didn't need to be told. Storm grabbed Wolverine beneath his arms and held tightly as the winds she controlled rocketed them both to safety. Bobby whipped up an ice slide and Bishop held onto his back as he propelled himself along by constantly adding to it. The ground on which the slide was built was crumbling by the second, the ice cracking, shattering along with it. But by that time, they were close enough to stable ground for Bobby to instantly create a ramp of ice down which they slid to safety.

  Which only left Hank. They had fought beside the Beast for years. Obviously, they were counting on his strength and agility for him to be able to save himself. It was the only thing they could have done, the wisest course of action. Hank knew they were right to leave him behind. Just as he knew they were right that, with one or two enormous leaps, he could get himself to safety.

  If he could find one foot of solid ground from which to leap.

  It didn't look promising. The Beast raced toward the churning ground ahead as the huge door he now knew he stood upon opened beneath him. He had to continue that forward momentum, though it brought him closer to certain death with each step. If he slowed, he would most certainly lose his footing, and if he lost his footing, this avalanche of soil would trap him and crush him to death.

  Hank didn't look up. He couldn't afford to. In any case, he knew it would be too dangerous for Storm to try to save him. Each time one of his feet touched ground, his primal instincts tested the ground for stability. He was rapidly losing hope of finding any, and he was certain there would not be a long enough patch of solid ground for him to make a decent jump.

  He had to count on Bobby Drake to know what to do. Iceman couldn't come after him without the real probability that he would sacrifice his own life and not be able to save Hank, But if he was thinking, if Bobby was paying attention, he could catch Hank in the air with a slide or a ramp or something.

  If Hank could just get in the air. If he could find something solid from which to propel himself. His feet slid in the dirt and with each step he had to pull them out before he tore or twisted something vital. something that would end it all.

  The genetic x-factor that had made Henry McCoy a mutant had given him senses that matched his savage appearance. Otherwise he never would have seen the enormous tree stump that slid along atop the crumbling Earth ahead, only a handful of yards from where the opening door had pulled away from solid ground, allowing millions of tons of soil to pour off the edge of the world.

  Hank assumed that the stump had been too large to remove when the facility was built, and so the laborers had simply buried it. He praised them, then pushed the thought from his mind as he increased his speed. He had to get to the stump before it went over into the maelstrom of dirt.

  Then it was there, under his feet. The Beast crouched and used all of his considerable strength, and the momentum he had accumulated to leap up and forward. Only when he was in the air did he look to see if he would make it to the edge of solid ground where the earth had been cut away to build the silo. He found it, and knew instantly that it was too far.

  Then the X-Men were there, in his line of sight, and Iceman was furiously fashioning an ice slide that seemed to burst from the ground and shoot toward the fall short of his goal. The slide was coming fast, as Bobby poured everything he had into it, and Hank suddenly realized that Bobby had miscalculated, hadn't taken his fall into account.

  But it wasn't going to miss. Oh, no, that would be too simple.

  It was going to hit him.

  "Oh, my stars and ... " Hank began to say, but he didn't have time to finish the phrase. The slide shot toward him, fast enough and thin enough that he was afraid it might slice him in half.

  With every muscle straining, using all of the agility that had kept him alive this long, the Beast flipped himself into a somersault, pulling his legs up into the air above his head. It didn't slow his descent, but it changed his position enough that the ice flew past underneath him, solidifying so fast that when he hit it, on his back, the wind was knocked out of him.

  It was freezing cold against his back, but it felt good. In a few moments, Hank had slid to the bottom of the ramp, and his team mates had crowded around him. Storm and Wolverine helped him up, as Bishop brushed ice particles off his fur with a wide grin.

  Then Bobby was in front of him.

  "You about skewered me that time, Mr. Drake," Hank said.

  "You'd make some tasty barbecue, Dr. McCoy," Bobby replied.

  Hank threw his arms around his best friend and lifted him off the ground, shaking his head in amazement.

  The rumbling continued, though the silo doors were open all the way now, gleaming metal standing vertical from the ground. Dust still rose from the slowly settling pile of dirt that was nearly Hank McCoy's grave. They heard the sudden firing burn of a jet engine.

  "Here they come," Bishop said quietly.

  Two by two, the Sentinels emerged. Twenty in all. Their eyes, chest plates, and running lights glowed an eerie red against the sky. All of the X-Men were stunned when the colossal robots did not stop to attack them, or even seem to notice them.

  The X-Men were silent as the Sentinels grew smaller in the sky, until all that could be seen of them were distant red lights.

  "They're headin' east," Wolverine quietly observed.

  "They ignored us," Storm said. "I don't think I want to know what Magneto's next move is going to be."

  Then they were silent again. A moment later, Hank heard a tiny sniff to his right, and looked over at Bishop in the darkness. The night was black, but with his enhanced senses, the Beast thought there were tears in the time-lost X-Man's eyes. Bishop had often spoken of the terror the Sentinels had wrought over the world when he was a boy, and even a young man. The newest member of the team, Bishop was also one of the bravest, most fearless warriors they had ever known.

  Tears. Not of fear; not from Bishop. No, Hank imagined that these were tears of sorrow. Sorrow for all he had lost in that far future time. And all he stood to lose now. Today.

  Suddenly, Hank McCoy realized that he was deeply, deeply frightened of what was to come.

  • • •

  Valerie Cooper was in the White House for the second time in a single day, a personal record. While most anybody she knew
would likely be impressed by this fact, Val was singularly unnerved. When she was called to the White House, it was never good news. And considering what had already happened that day, it could only be a catastrophe.

  Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she followed the two Secret Service agents who were to guide her to the meeting. She knew the topic of the meeting, certainly. Mutants. Otherwise, why invite her? But she shuddered to think what the specifics of it would be.

  The only thing that made the trek down that hall bearable was the thought that at least she would find out what had transpired in Colorado. At least she would learn the truth.

  The two broad-shouldered agents, looking for all the world like mindless clones, stood to either side of a heavy oaken door. The one on the left, whom she had come to think of as Tweedle-Dee, reached his right hand around and rapped lightly on the door. There was a buzz and then the loud triple click of bolts sliding back on the door. A voice inside called out, "Enter!" and the other, Tweedle-Dum, twisted the door knob and pulled it open.

  Val Cooper walked inside and the door shut behind her. The buzz came again, followed by the snap-snap-snap of the locking mechanism.

  "Please, Ms. Cooper," the President said warmly, "come in and take a seat."

  For a moment, Val could only stand there. Other than herself and the President, there were only two other people in the room: the Director of Operation: Wideawake, and its guard dog, Henry Peter Gyrich. Her heart sank. With Gyrich in the room, she'd be more likely to get the truth from the devil himself.

  Finally, after what seemed to her an uncomfortably long pause, she took a seat in the one empty chair at the small table. This was not a traditional meeting room for the White House, or anywhere. It was a room that was soundproof, bug-proof, bulletproof. There were no windows, and only the one door. It was a room where conversations never happened, where plots were never hatched, where coverups never took place.