by Alex Irvine
“How about backward handsprings?” Kitty asked.
“Give it a few days,” Hank said.
Silence fell for a while, until Logan said, “We oughta be on the ground again in a couple minutes. Everybody buckle up in case I crash.”
“I don’t remember everything I said to you, Ororo,” Kitty said. “Did I make sense?”
“Yes and no,” Ororo said. “Take your time. Futures aren’t determined in minutes.”
“Chaos theory would suggest otherwise,” Hank said. “But hey, don’t listen to me. Pete, why would they listen to me?”
“Good question,” Colossus said. “I try not to.”
“Did I really say Magneto had controlled the Sentinels? I don’t remember it that way now,” Kitty said. “That’s not what happened. He’s the only reason I came back. I think.”
“You were having some trouble putting words together, Kitten,” Storm said. “We’ll get it all figured out soon enough.”
“Maybe it would be best if we didn’t,” Kitty said. “I don’t want to know. Except I do. What was she like?”
Everyone knew what she meant. Peter looked out the window. He was the other member of the team who was going to have a difficult time assimilating the implications of the temporal projection. Storm saw it, and knew she would have to take steps to make sure he did not just bury all of his emotional responses inside his stolid Russian frame.
Xavier also saw Peter’s reaction and stepped in before one of the team had the chance to say something unfortunate. “Kate Pryde is as delightful and admirable a person as Kitty Pryde. The rest you will discover in due course.”
“Do you think her plan worked?” Kitty asked. She looked from one of her colleagues to the other. Behind her, Hank sat down and buckled himself in, too.
“No way to tell,” Angel said. “Is there, Professor?”
“I do not know, Warren. Cliché though it sounds, only time will tell,” Xavier said.
A minute later they were on the ground. Kitty managed to walk on her own down the steps. Hank led her into Xavier’s mansion, where he could continue her treatment. Nightcrawler helped get Xavier’s wheelchair down from the Blackbird. When the rest of the X-Men had gone ahead, he said, “Professor. What does it mean?”
Xavier understood, but he wanted to hear Kurt say it. “What do you mean by ‘it’?”
“I had never seen anyone anything like me until today,” Nightcrawler said. “But she was—”
“Kurt. You cannot answer that question today. Perhaps you will not answer it tomorrow. But you will answer it, if you stay with the people who fight with you and care about you.”
Inside the mansion, Kitty stepped up to Peter as he came through the door. “I know it’s weird,” she said. “But don’t worry about it. That might not even be this future. Rachel wasn’t sure.”
“Yes,” he said. “I do not know Rachel, but I agree with her. We cannot know the future until we live it.”
“Still, it makes me sad,” Kitty went on. “Kate went back to that future—and when she got there, everyone was gone. She was the last one.”
“That is only what was going to happen before today,” Peter said. “After today, we cannot know.”
“No,” Kitty Pryde said, “I guess we can’t.” She shrugged reflexively, and then winced as the motion tore at the stitches Beast had put in her shoulder. “Ouch.”
She walked with Peter and Logan and Ororo and Warren deeper into the mansion. She knew that, by saving Senator Kelly, they had changed something. But she also knew they might never discover exactly what that something was.
“It’s not easy, not knowing,” she said.
“Gets worse when you start thinking about all the stuff you don’t know,” Logan said. “Stick to what’s in front of you, kid.”
That seemed like good advice.
EPILOGUE
SENATOR Robert Kelly knew how to grandstand, but the truth was he did not enjoy it. A month after the disaster at the hearing, he had decided that more subtle methods were required. He’d convened a series of meetings, spoken with experts, even reached out to Charles Xavier again for a sub-rosa conversation about Xavier’s goals for the mutant race. Xavier had argued that they were all the same race. All mutants—those who formed the X-Men and those who chose the Brotherhood—were part of the family, as it were. Kelly had conceded the point.
Others, however, would not have. Kelly was in the company of several like-minded thinkers now, each of whom had made room in very busy schedules. They had all agreed to meet in his office, away from cameras, in the very space where mutants had both threatened and saved his life.
Kelly was perfectly willing to admit that both things had happened. Further, he was willing to admit that not all mutants were bad. The actions of the X-Men were proof of this.
But neither of those facts altered his belief that the mutant menace was the most dangerous threat facing humanity, a crisis in need of decisive and ruthless action. An individual mutant might save a life, certainly. But the existence of so many mutants who desired the end of normal humans—or who, like Magneto, wanted to subjugate normal humans and rule them? That was a fact that could not continue to exist unchallenged. Robert Kelly prided himself on taking a fact-based approach. In this case, the facts were clear.
The implications were equally clear. Humans had to take action on their own behalf.
Four men were in Kelly’s office, including Kelly himself. Another was his good friend, the President of the United States. The President was not as implacably opposed to mutants as Kelly would have liked. But he was a man whose heart was in the right place, and he was not unduly encumbered by intellectualism. He was not stupid—Kelly had found him to be intelligent and quite agile on topics that interested him—but he also did not see the value in overthinking a question.
Kelly respected that position. In fact, he shared it. Some things were complicated. Those things required intellectual agility and careful decision-making. Some things were simple. Those things required direct and forceful action.
The presence and growing power of mutants was the simple kind of problem. Their increasing militancy, represented by the Brotherhood, made the problem urgent. Kelly had survived the assassination attempt, but a number of people had died that day in the Senate building and out on the Mall.
“I won’t bandy words, gentlemen,” the President said. “I’ve read your report, Robert. Its recommendations are dangerous. They may be unconstitutional, which we could perhaps get away with, and criminal, which we probably could not—at least not in the long run. It is a draconian proposal, I must say, for someone who owes his life to the X-Men.”
“A life that was threatened initially by other mutants, Mr. President.” Kelly knew he had to be careful. Like all presidents, this one did not like points made to him too forcefully. “If there were no mutants—period—my life would not have been threatened at all.”
“This is not just about your life, Robert,” the President said. “It is about theirs, as well. There aren’t many mutants, but they are citizens. They have rights. And they do have their partisans. Nevertheless—”
“There is also the national-security aspect, sir,” added the third man in the room. “An anti-government group of super-powered beings, mutant or otherwise—or such a group in the service of a foreign enemy—would be a serious threat to our nation.”
This man—Sebastian Shaw—stood apart from the other three, who were all dressed in the Capitol Hill uniform of dark suit, white shirt, and tie in a not-too-bold red or blue. In contrast, Shaw wore a sheepskin coat over a vest and ascot that would not have looked out of place against the teak and velvet backdrop of a London gentlemen’s club. Kelly had known him for years, mostly as a donor but more recently as a kindred spirit.
Shaw was an industrialist, inventor, and—most important—a thinker along the same lines as Kelly when it came to the mutant problem. He knew that the actions of individual mutants, good or bad, were less
important than the broader problem of mutants’ existence. As long as there was a population of mutants, with powers no normal human could hope to have, they would be a threat to humanity. No interaction between groups with such a great power differential had ever turned out well for the weaker group—and after the assassination attempt a month ago, Robert Kelly knew better than most what it meant to be a member of that weaker group. Mystique had made the point quite clear in front of a worldwide television and online audience.
What could close that gap? Technology.
The President knew this, too. “I realize that, Sebastian,” he said. “For the moment, our actions—my actions—will remain covert. The operation is code-named Project Wideawake. Allow me to present the man who will head it.”
The fourth man in the room was unknown to Robert Kelly. He stepped forward as the President introduced him. “Henry Peter Gyrich. He’ll be reporting directly to me. His first priority will be to work with Shaw Industries. Together he and Sebastian will make tremendous advances in counter-mutant security technologies. Our finest minds will dedicate themselves to the task.”
“You’ll have the best systems humankind can create, sir,” Gyrich said. His fiery red crewcut and sunglasses, worn even in the shaded environs of Kelly’s office, marked him as a Washington outsider as much as Shaw’s sheepskins and crushed-velvet vest. Kelly knew little about Gyrich. He was a National Security Agency analyst with a whispered reputation as a hard charger, the kind of man who made his bosses’ lives miserable until they either fired him or did what he wanted. And because he was very good at what he did, he got what he wanted much more often than he got fired.
“You also have my word that this mutant controversy will be resolved,” Gyrich went on. “If we find them a threat to this republic and the human race, they will be dealt with. Permanently.”
Their statements made, the four men sat at the couch and chairs where a month before a mutant had lingered, waiting for her appointed time to kill Robert Kelly. “Sebastian and I have known each other for some time,” Senator Kelly said. “And you and I, Mr. President—well, we’re not strangers, either. But I don’t know Mr. Gyrich.”
“Henry, please.”
“Henry, then. Do you, Sebastian?”
“Never heard of him before just now,” Shaw said.
“Well, Washington’s a small town, so I’ve heard your name, and I know you a bit by reputation, Henry,” Senator Kelly said. “Maybe we could get an introduction to how you plan to proceed? Executive-summary style, no need for details.”
“Happy to provide it,” Gyrich said. “But let’s keep it quick. We’ve got a problem to handle, and it’s not going to go away from us talking about it.”
“Understood,” Senator Kelly said. “You can skip right to the part about the new generation of Sentinels.”
“That I will,” Gyrich said.
* * *
THE OBSERVER in Senator Kelly’s office was unseen, just as she had been the last time she entered this room. Although, Kitty Pryde mused, the last time it had been Kate Pryde who had phased in through the wall and waited for Destiny to ambush Senator Kelly.
Where was Kate now? Kitty wondered. What had it been like for her to reappear in the future, with the Baxter Building crashing down into a mountain of flaming rubble? Had she lived another day? Kitty wasn’t sure, but she thought the Sentinels’ communications link had been destroyed. Perhaps the impending nuclear strike had been delayed. Perhaps Europe and Asia and Wakanda would send help now.
But Rachel and Franklin and Logan and Ororo and Peter were all still dead. And Magneto? It was hard for her to believe he could have survived the fireball—but if anyone could have, it would be Magnus. She liked thinking of him by that name, something she had only confided in Professor Xavier because she knew he would understand perceiving Magneto as both friend and enemy.
She still wasn’t sure Kate had made a difference. As Professor Xavier had said, they would not know until they lived their histories, and there were no shortcuts through time. Or, if there were, those shortcuts tended to disappear, as had happened when Kitty and her adult self had switched places.
Professor Xavier had debriefed her for a full week, trying to learn as much as he could about this potential future. “If we can learn what to watch for,” he had said in his sitting room, “we can take steps to avoid that particular future—assuming it is possible to do so.”
“Would we just make it disappear?” Kitty asked. “I mean, I was there. Will that never have happened?” She was lost in thought for a moment and felt Xavier’s feathery touch on her mind. “Stop,” she said.
“My apologies, Sprite. I thought to learn what was bothering you without disturbing your reverie.”
“What’s bothering me is…well, now you already know.” She’d been irritated, and despite her reverence for Professor Xavier, she hadn’t tried to hide it.
“Yes, I do. Perhaps I can help. Whatever happened in that future will exist as long as you exist to remember it. The courage and sacrifice of those future X-Men will not be lost. That may yet be our future, but if it is not…” He trailed off.
“If not, what?”
“The future we live is not the only possible future. There are thousands, perhaps, created from different chains of probability, choice, and action. At least, that is what seems to be indicated by your experience. Does that help?”
“If by ‘help’ you mean create a whole new set of confusing and unanswerable problems, sure.”
Xavier smiled. “Glad to be of service. Now. Soon we will need you back in the field again, putting your unique abilities to use.”
“I’m ready to go,” Kitty said. “And by the way, can you not call me Sprite anymore? I’m Shadowcat.”
The faintest hint of a smile wrinkled the corners of Xavier’s eyes. He knew why. He and Kitty Pryde were the only people on Earth who did. “Very well. Shadowcat,” he said.
* * *
NOW KITTY was doing her part to stop that future from happening. She believed Xavier, that altering their future would not unmake the one she had seen. It could, however, mean they did not have to live it. The idea was difficult to get her head around, but Kitty was beginning to feel more at home with it. She listened to the conniving bureaucrat Gyrich begin his description of Project Wideawake; she heard Shaw propose early plans for his next-generation Sentinels; she saw Kelly and the President exchange looks and nod their approval at each other.
Professor Xavier had said they would have to live their future to find out what it held. Kitty Pryde was fine with that. But she alone among them had already seen a future, and she had no plans to experience that one again.
We saved your lives, she wanted to say. She wanted to appear in their midst and strike terror into their hearts, saying, We are mutants, and we are everywhere, and you can hide nothing from us unless we permit it to remain hidden. But they wouldn’t listen. She knew that. They would use such an act as one more pretext for what they were intending to do anyway. So Shadowcat stayed in the shadows and listened, and hoped she could use what she learned—this time—to save her friends.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
THANKS FIRST to Chris Claremont and John Byrne for the original story that gave me so much to work with in this adaptation. Also thanks to Stuart Moore, Jeff Youngquist, and Sarah Brunstad for clear-eyed reading and editing. They made the book better. A conversation with Daniel Ketchum on a completely unrelated topic sparked some interesting ideas about Magneto that I tried to put to good use. And of course, as always, thanks to Lindsay for being there and being swell.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALEX IRVINE is the author of both award-winning original fiction (Buyout, The Narrows) and licensed books in the worlds of Marvel, Transformers, Pacific Rim, Supernatural, Halo, and various other beloved franchises. He has also written a number of games, including Marvel: Avengers Alliance and The Walking Dead: Road to Survival, and done story development work for Blizzard and Amazon
Game Studios, among others.
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