Marvel Classic Novels--X-Men

by Christopher Golden

  “This nation will be lucky if it isn’t already too late to rise up and save ourselves from this insidious menace!” Creed said, feigning despair. “And if Magneto is truly behind it all, if the most powerful, most evil enemy the world has ever faced has come back to wage mutant war on mankind, well then …”

  Creed hung his head and let out a theatrical sigh. “May God help us all,” he said softly.

  Xavier only wished he was stunned by Creed’s performance, but he’d become all too familiar with the man’s manipulation tactics over the past couple of years. The whole thing was ugly and getting uglier by the moment. If he was fortunate, and skilled, he might be able to at least balance the scales. It was too late to tip them in his favor, in favor of sanity.

  “Mr. Creed, we are all familiar with your tirades,” Xavier began. “Out of fear, you might bring people over to your way of thinking. Even now, the senator and much of our audience might be terrified into submission by your performance …”

  “I resent that …” Kelly began to say, but Xavier would not relent.

  “Sadly, historians are all too familiar with your kind of speechifying. We saw it in Berlin in the thirties, in the American South just before the Civil War, and in Washington every day from the mouths of lobbyists. Unfortunately, too often it succeeds. But I believe that people are basically good and decent. I believe that prejudice is a primal human reaction to fear, we hate what makes us afraid. Bigots are generally cowards, sir, but you are something else entirely. Fear creates prejudice, and that fear can be manipulated into great power. That is what we have seen from you here today.

  “As far as your insinuations about the government being unsound are concerned, I should think, as a member of the U.S. Congress, that Senator Kelly would take offense,” Xavier continued, on less solid footing but hoping this final gamble would pay off. “You may be able to tell the American people that they’re too foolish not to see this enormous mutant conspiracy you claim exists, and not have them rebel against you because they just aren’t that sure of themselves anymore. But I don’t see how the senator can sit here and let you imply that the U.S. government is compiled of morons and imbeciles who wouldn’t see such a threat if it actually existed.”

  Professor Xavier took a breath, but he didn’t have to wait long. He’d played both Creed and Kelly expertly. Especially Kelly. The senator didn’t believe in a conspiracy. He was merely frightened at the power mutants held and the thought that they might not be able to control it. That some might turn those powers against the government, as had already happened numerous times. Of course, the X-Men had been there to prevent things from getting out of control.

  No, Kelly wasn’t an evil man. Just scared. And Xavier had used that fear, as well as the senator’s pride, to create what was quickly becoming a battle royale between him and Creed. Charles was not used to that kind of politics. He generally tried to be as diplomatic as he could, as genuine as he could, and still get his point across.

  Difficult times called for difficult measures.

  Kelly had to defend the government, even though Creed hadn’t really indicted the government directly. And after Xavier’s words, he was forced to make a public stand against racism, sexism, ageism, homophobia, anti-Semitism and intolerance in general, and define his stance against mutants solely in relation to the danger of their abilities. He likened it to passing laws curtailing public smoking for the good of smokers and non-smokers alike.

  In saying these things, Senator Kelly was effectively attacking Creed, who was forced to respond ardently. Argument ensued. The end result was that Creed’s opinions had been soundly trounced by a well-respected government official who didn’t completely disagree with him. Though Creed’s message had gotten out, and many people would have taken it to heart due mainly to their already instilled terror of mutants, the general population would not collapse in a frenzy.

  At least not yet.

  When the camera and monitor were finally turned off, he looked up to see the makeup assistant who’d powdered his skull standing just beyond the harsh lights. The man offered him a huge smile along with a double thumbs-up. Charles returned the smile. He felt dirty after engaging in such manipulation—that was the other side’s way. But as the makeup man turned and walked off into the darkened studio, Xavier realized that he also felt proud.

  His dream of harmony between mutants and humans had lost ground today, there was no question of that. But not nearly as much as it might have, had he not confronted Creed and Kelly. In a sense, he’d beaten Graydon Creed at his own game.

  As he wheeled his chair down the hall toward the elevator, his anxiety over the safety of the X-Men began to return. Despite his fears, however, Charles Xavier felt good. Very, very good.

  * * *

  MAGNETO was terribly impatient with substandard technology. Compared to the near-sentient computer systems on Avalon, the operations of Wideawake and the entire Sentinel program were ancient. And, more importantly, interminably slow. It was ludicrous. All that power at their control, the ultimate weapon—the Sentinels—in their hands, and it was still necessary to wait minutes for the computers to process even the tiniest bit of new information.

  But he was getting close.

  Magneto glanced out the control center’s window at the fleet of Sentinels. They were dark and silent, motionless in the silo. They gathered dust and attracted nests of spiders and whatever other insects and vermin might breed in the cold dark underground facility. But it would not be long until they roared through the blue American skies at Magneto’s command. And America was just the beginning.

  In the Sentinels, Operation: Wideawake had the most powerful non-explosive weapon ever created. They were sheathed in an armor made of nearly impenetrable alloy, and armed with an array of lasers, tasers, explosives, and crowd-control modes including smoke and tear gas. Their near-sentient minds were able to learn and adapt.

  Originally, the Sentinels had been programmed with the identities and abilities of all known mutants. Should they ever be needed to fulfill their purpose, they would have enough knowledge to neutralize whatever mutants they happened upon—or so the covert pitch went. They were humanity’s final option if the world’s mutant tensions raged out of control.

  How deliciously ironic, Magneto thought, that the ultimate anti-mutant weapon would now be used to implement an agenda that would have given the Sentinels’ creator, Bolivar Trask, a heart attack. It almost made him wish Trask were still alive, just so Magneto could see the horror on the man’s face. Almost. But in truth he was glad Trask was dead. At least a portion of the current anti-mutant hysteria was due to Trask’s obsession.

  If not for Trask, Xavier’s dream might have had a chance of becoming reality. Paradoxically, if not for Trask, Magneto would not have the means of making his own Empire Agenda real. A man who can leave that kind of legacy behind is a dangerous man indeed. Yes, Magneto was glad Trask was dead.

  The control center’s door hissed open and Voght strode in.

  “The X-Men have made short work of the military, as you predicted,” she said, carefully avoiding calling him Lord the way the others did. It was prideful, yet endearing.

  “Once they begin battering my magnetic force field in earnest, I won’t be able to keep it intact and reprogram the Sentinels simultaneously,” he replied. It was a truth he would never have admitted to any of the others. “Gather the Acolytes, Amelia, leaving only Milan behind to guard the prisoners. Go to the surface and, when the X-Men have breached the field, engage them. Drive them off or capture them, one or the other. I will not sanction their termination just yet. It is still possible they may be of use to me in the future.”

  Voght raised her eyebrows but did not argue Magneto’s decision. Beauty and wisdom were so rarely given to the same individual, he thought fleetingly. Amelia Voght was a formidable woman. She mumbled her acknowledgment of his orders and backed from the room. He could hear her swift footfalls in the hall, as she rushed to gather her
comrades.

  Magneto turned his attention back to the computer. He was almost through with the reprogramming, but the computers were taking far too long to process the new directives. With the work that Shaw had already done, it was only a matter of using the appropriate commands to force the Alpha Sentinel to rewrite its programming. The others would follow its lead, the same way that drones followed queens in the insect world.

  The computer screen offered a new prompt, and Magneto entered the appropriate command. So close. For the first time in recent memory, Eric Magnus Lehnsherr was filled with an anxiety it took him half a minute to recognize as excitement. The means to fulfill his dream and destiny were about to be delivered into his hands.

  Magneto knew he was arrogant, and that self-awareness was what prevented him from becoming psychotic. His arrogance was not a matter of dreams of self-importance or grandiosity, but a certainty that he was one of the most powerful beings on the planet. Creating the magnetic force field around the base had required concentration. Sustaining it, however, was effortless, nearly involuntary.

  Until the X-Men attacked.

  The sudden conflict caused a massive adrenaline rush, and every muscle in Magneto’s body tensed. It was as if he’d been driving a car at high speeds and been forced to slam on the brakes to avoid an accident, without being certain that he could.

  After the initial attack, which he held back easily, he relaxed again. He might have kept them out indefinitely were it not that he needed to concentrate on the Sentinels.

  “Alpha Sentinel online,” the computer told him, and slowly, Magneto smiled. Perhaps he could hold the X-Men off after all.

  As he began to focus on his force field once more, he was startled to sense a sudden tear in the fabric of the field. He concentrated on the location of the hole, but as much energy as he poured into it, Magneto could not stop the breach.

  Then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. And Magneto knew what it meant. The X-Men were on the grounds. Any moment, Voght would take the Acolytes out to greet them, and the battle would begin.

  None of which mattered to Magneto in the slightest.

  For in the darkened silo, twenty pairs of dead red eyes glowed brightly. Running lights popped into life on each of the Sentinels, and they began to power up. The hum of their generators filled the silo and the command center with a wall of vibratory sound.

  “Preparing to accept password and sound sample for voice command mode,” the computer voice said. “Please speak clearly. Announce password now.”

  “Empire,” Magneto said. The password had simply been the latest “door” the first time. This was different. At the final stage, if the word or voice patterns didn’t match, the Sentinels’ first order of business would have been to expediently destroy whomever was in the control center. Magneto listened as the computer cycled his voice through analysis after analysis, matching it to previous samples and locking onto his vocal patterns so there could be no mistaking his commands.

  It wouldn’t be long now.

  TWELVE

  THE sun still burned bright over Hala, but in the cold, moist darkness of the tunnels, lit only by flickering torches, Jean Grey found it hard to remember, even to imagine, the sun shining high in the sky. They were in a cavern, apparently just one of the many safe houses used by the Kree rebels. As long as they were able to keep the Shi’ar from discovering the tunnels and caverns that existed beneath Kree-Lar and its suburbs, the cavern would be safe.

  Which was, sadly, the subject of some controversy at the moment.

  “I have given the Terrans my word!” Kam-Lorr shouted, his face flushed with the heat of argument. It was impossible not to hear the discussion, as no attempt was made to keep quiet. Obviously, Kam-Lorr’s fellow rebel leaders did not care one whit about whether the X-Men heard their disparaging remarks or not.

  “You may have given your word, Kam-Lorr, but we have not!” a slim, pink-skinned Kree woman said evenly. “These Terrans may be noble, as you say. They may have the best of intentions, but we cannot jeopardize the entire rebellion for the sake of a few lives.”

  Jean stopped listening. Not because she was offended or disgusted, but because, despite the prejudice the Kree had for Terrans, she knew that their arguments were sound. Kam-Lorr was a man of honor. But honor could be a dangerous thing. What was the saying? “Pride goeth before a fall.” There was something to that.

  Yes, Jean understood the arguments against the rebels helping her and the other X-Men to rescue Scott and the others. But when it came right down to it, she didn’t care. She was selfish and she knew it. If it were anyone else, maybe she would have felt different. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Scott Summers, the only man she had ever loved. And if it meant risking the entire rebellion, if it meant risking war between the Shi’ar Empire and Earth … well, none of it mattered.

  Scott mattered. That was all.

  Jean had been a self-conscious teenager, made even more so by the appearance of her psi powers. She’d been luckier than most, though. Her parents were loving, intelligent people, who’d sought help for their daughter and themselves. That help had come in the form of Charles Xavier. Xavier had promised to give Jean the best education she could hope to receive, while simultaneously teaching her to deal with her mutant abilities and to be proud of who and what she was.

  In retrospect, it was wonderful. At the time, however, the day she arrived at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters—as it had then been called—was the most terrifying day of her life. A new life at a new school, a boarding school for that matter, with none of her family or old friends around; no wonder she’d been scared.

  But her fear had not lasted long. Professor Xavier had intimidated her at first, but he was so kind that she warmed to him quickly. And the other students, well, that was even easier. There had been only four other kids there, and they were all boys. Jean wasn’t conceited enough to consider herself beautiful, though it had been said of her frequently. It didn’t matter at Xavier’s School though. She was the only girl in class, and so of course she was the most beautiful girl in the school. Hank, Bobby, and especially Warren, fell all over themselves to make her feel welcome.

  Not Scott Summers, though. Sure, he was nice enough. But Jean had never met a boy as handsome and as shy as Scott. That first semester was the happiest, most innocent time she could remember. Though Warren had pursued her, all Jean could think about was Scott. She’d had dreams about him, about kissing him. As often as she could, she would ask him to study with her just so she could breathe the same air as Scott.

  It was silly. It was romantic. It was love. It had seemed like forever to her as she waited for Scott to show some sign that he cared for her in return. But even at that age, though she’d been terrified he did not care for her as she did for him, Jean had sensed that he loved her in return. She would never have used her psi powers to steal the truth from his mind, but there was something between them already, a precursor to the mental rapport they now shared, that told her she need only be patient. That Scott would come around.

  Years had passed. They had weathered crisis after crisis together, and apart. In that time, their love had only grown. They had become more than partners, more than lovers. Scott Summers and Jean Grey were two people with one soul.

  Jean smiled. The concept sounded corny, even as it echoed through her mind. But it was true nevertheless. She could not survive without Scott, any more than she could survive without a soul.

  So, in the end, whatever the Kree rebels decided did not matter. She would rescue Scott from Deathbird’s dungeon or die trying. Though she didn’t think it would come to that. Jean fully expected that even if the other rebel leaders didn’t support him, Kam-Lorr would at the very least help them into the Capitol Building. She and Scott had counted on that when they had hatched their plan.

  The part of her psi powers that was instinctive, almost involuntary, sensed a familiar thought pattern nearby.

  “Hello, Warren,”
she whispered without turning. It was an ability that had often spooked those who hadn’t known her for long. But she and Warren went back to the very beginning, when he had been simply called the Angel, and Jean had embraced the embarrassing codename of Marvel Girl. Even then, though, Warren had never spooked easily.

  “Jean, we need to talk,” he said in a hushed voice.

  He dropped lightly down beside her to sit comfortably, legs crossed. She gazed on his pretty-boy handsome features, so strangely altered since he had become Archangel. He had always been every girl’s dream: young, fabulously wealthy, sweet, funny, and drop-dead gorgeous.

  Warren had the kind of body that women not only admired, but envied. At six feet tall, and as muscular as he was, he should have weighed at least two hundred pounds. Yet, even with the organic metal wings that lay flat and heavy in their contracted state on his back, Archangel barely tipped the scales to one hundred and fifty. At puberty, his body had begun to mutate, but the wings he had grown were only part of it. His entire structure was adapted for flight. His bones were hollow, and he had less body fat than Sylvester Stallone on his best day.

  His skin was blue now, the sky blue of his eyes, but there was no hiding it. Sure enough, Warren was without a doubt what Jean would call a babe. But, despite what Warren may have once felt for her, and despite the fact that she was and always had been attracted to him, there was only one man for Jean Grey. In fact, Jean believed that Warren, Hank, and Bobby, the other original X-Men, loved Scott—in their own way—almost as much as she did.

  The X-Men were a family, new and old. They were loyal to Professor Xavier, to the dream, and to each other. But Jean, Archangel, Beast, and Iceman were also loyal to Scott Summers. Hank and Bobby were back on Earth, but Jean knew that Warren would follow Scott’s lead, no matter the cost.