by Stuart Moore
ENGINES ONLINE
She pulled back hard on the stick. The shuttle lurched, g-force pressing her back in her chair. She grunted, pulled again, and gasped as the forward-screen image swung upward with dizzying speed. Bright sky, blue and clear, filled the display.
She let out a cry of joy.
Accessing Corbeau’s memories, she reached out with her mind and called up a GPS map. The tree-lined area below, she saw, was called Rockaway Community Park. It jutted out along Jamaica Bay, on the south side of Long Island—New York City, on the edge of Brooklyn and Queens. And just across the bay…
The small screen turned red.
DANGER
ENGINE FAILURE
The shuttle sputtered, went quiet, and began to drop. Jean’s stomach seemed to flip upside down. She leaned forward, pulling at the stick. No response.
The voice returned. An ancient presence that was her, and yet not her.
Time to die, it said.
Jean dove into Corbeau’s memories, racing through the options one by one. Main engines: offline. Emergency bailout: no time, and Scott and the others would still be trapped in the life-cell. Landing gear: at this speed, it would be crushed on impact.
It’s all right, the voice said.
Shut up, she told it. Shut up shut up SHUT UP!
There was one chance: the elevons. Corbeau had designed the shuttle to function in glide mode, without the engines. Probably just to show off, she realized. Now his ego might save all their lives.
Quickly, expertly, she extended the wings to their full span. The shuttle bucked and slowed as air pounded against the wings. Jean shook in her seat. They were still dropping fast, but she’d managed to achieve a measure of control over their course.
Now all I need is someplace to land!
Straining, forcing the elevons down and over, she steered the plunging bird toward JFK Airport. Buildings slid by, low and dark, leading to a thick control tower studded with lights. Beyond, a thin green-gray landing strip stretched out like a finger, ending at the blue glimmering bay.
She flipped the comms system back on.
“—maintain holding pattern—”
“—hailing unidentified—”
“Mayday!” she called. “JFK flight control, I’m coming in hot. Clear all traffic, please!”
A flurry of crosstalk.
“Unidentified bird, this is control tower. You are too low. Repeat…”
She checked the altitude: 210 meters. The controller was right. At this rate of descent, she’d never clear the buildings.
Jean reached out telekinetically, forcing her power to surround the entire shuttle. She seized hold, struggling to keep its plummeting bulk in check. Then she gritted her teeth and lifted.
The shuttle swooped upward, barely clearing the main tower, and lurched down toward the tarmac. Jean felt a brief moment of triumph—
—before the impact shattered her spine.
The shuttle gouged a scar in the runway, then bounced sideways toward the adjoining grass. Sparks rose from its underbelly as it veered back, slamming down hard again. Momentum drove it forward, plowing a hot furrow through the tarmac.
Jean was conscious of a burning sensation, a fire spreading through her broken body. The minds of her friends, her lover, her teacher—all of them cried out from their confinement in the back of the shuttle. She had no strength left to shut them out.
This is the end, she thought.
No, the voice that was not her replied. It’s the beginning.
As the shuttle screamed forward, Jean’s consciousness exploded. Images flooded her mind. Flames dancing on skin; worlds exploding, dying in paroxysms of fire. A cruel woman in leather and boots, with hair like ice.
She saw Cyclops shackled, his face covered in crimson metal. Mouth open in a silent scream.
The shuttle bounced once more, the fuselage cracking in half. Two severed pieces dangled in midair, then plunged into the bay. Engines coughed briefly to life and sputtered out again. Jean Grey made no move toward the controls, no mental effort to prevent the vessel from sinking.
She was already dead.
* * *
CYCLOPS BROKE the surface, spitting filthy salt water. He gasped as a wave washed over him, then flexed powerful arms, thrusting upward to keep his head above water.
He looked around as best he could, surveying the scene through the crimson lenses of his visor. Over on the airport tarmac, emergency lights flashed. The edge of the runway hung jagged, crumbling off into the bay. The shuttle had done considerable damage on its way down.
Some of the other X-Men bobbed and floated, dazed, just a few feet away. Logan, Storm, and Nightcrawler were the closest. Just past them, Dr. Corbeau used a lifeguard’s shoulder-hold to keep the dazed Professor X above the water. Surprisingly, the Professor seemed to be regaining consciousness.
That was everyone. Almost.
All but one.
“Storm, Kurt,” he called. “Get Corbeau and the Professor to safety.”
Storm started to answer, then coughed. “One moment, Scott.”
“Ja,” Nightcrawler said.
“No hurry.” Corbeau shook water out of his thick hair. “I trained for the Olympic swim team, back in college.”
The dull whir of a helicopter echoed from above. NYPD no doubt, responding to the crash. Hopefully the Professor would recover soon—for his own sake, of course, but his mental powers could also prevent the rescue teams from noticing a pack of costumed mutants floating in the bay.
I can’t worry about that now, Cyclops thought. He cast his eyes down toward the water, where the shuttle had sunk beneath the murk. Then he thrust his head upward and began gulping as much air as he could.
The water began to churn. He looked over to see Wolverine chopping toward him, teeth gritted.
“I’m going down for her, Logan,” Cyclops said. “Try to stop me, I swear I’ll kill you.”
“I ain’t stoppin’ you, Cyke. I’m coming with.”
No, Cyclops thought. She’s my love—my responsibility. I have to save her!
Yet there was no denying Wolverine’s stamina. Of the two of them, Logan probably had a better chance of rescuing Jean. Cyclops nodded reluctantly.
They raised their arms, prepared to dive—and Wolverine froze. His eyes went wide as he sniffed the air. Cyclops shot him a look, then realized the water was bubbling all around them. Even through his insulated uniform, he could feel the temperature rising.
All at once the surface seemed to explode, flaring upward in a glow of iridescent fire. Cyclops tumbled one way, catching a face-full of bay water, as Logan was tossed in the other direction. Between them, a gleaming, shining blur of a figure shot up into the sky.
Wiping the water off his visor, Cyclops gasped.
Jean Grey hung suspended in the air, eyes closed, her arms raised toward the sky. Slowly she opened her eyes and turned to look down, like a monarch surveying her subjects. When she spoke, her voice seemed to fill the air.
“HEAR ME, X-MEN,” she said. “NO LONGER AM I THE WOMAN YOU KNEW.”
Cyclops’s brow furrowed. Somehow Jean was wearing a new costume. It gleamed green and gold, its long sash whipping in the wind.
“I AM FIRE,” she continued, “AND LIFE INCARNATE.”
It was her, and yet it wasn’t. Everything about her had changed.
Where did that come from? Jean’s never exhibited that level of telekinetic ability before…
“NOW AND FOREVER: I AM PHOENIX!”
“Jean!” he called.
At the sound of his voice she looked down. She seemed to struggle to focus, and then her expression softened. A look of fear crossed her face; she grabbed her temples and screamed.
“Jean!”
For a long moment she flared bright. Fiery wings seemed to flash outward from her body, blocking out the sun. The police helicopter halted in its approach and circled back, keeping its distance.
Then the energy died.
&nb
sp; Jean gasped, went dark, and dropped from the sky.
When she struck the water, Cyclops was the first to reach her. He waved Logan away and hoisted her up, keeping her head above the surface.
“Jean?” he said. “Jean!”
No response.
“She’s breathin’,” Wolverine said.
Cyclops rested his head on her chest and heaved a sigh of relief. Her heartbeat was strong.
He floated in the water, holding her, waiting for the helicopter to return. Then he realized that the Professor had recovered enough to reach out and alter the perceptions of the rescue teams. When their way was clear, Xavier sent a mental signal. Cyclops hesitated, casting a final look down into the depths of the bay.
“Scott?” Storm called.
He turned to follow the others, paddling slowly toward shore. Keeping a tight grip on Jean Grey, the woman he loved. The woman he would always love, he knew with fierce determination—every moment of every day, for the rest of his life.
CHAPTER ONE
One year later
KITTY PRYDE was bored. She’d just sat through a junior-level calculus lecture that was so obvious she could practically mouth the words along with the teacher. All around her, kids two years older than her frowned and took notes, struggling to keep up.
She was getting one of those headaches again, too.
When the bell rang, she texted her friend Robin.
NEED SOME AIR!
Robin was already up on the roof, so Kitty bounded up the steps two at a time and thrust open the door. She was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, and the fall air made her shiver.
Robin stood leaning against a railing, over past the horticulture club’s outdoor roof garden. She was taller than Kitty, but gawky, and her eyes were glued to her phone.
“Hey, Kats,” she said without looking up.
“Yo, Birds,” Kitty replied. She started over toward her friend, then winced. The headache was growing stronger. It seemed to come from way inside, as if someone had installed an electric motor at the base of her skull.
Robin didn’t even notice. “Dad, man!” she said, running a finger down her phone screen. “Enough with the texts. Tell me I’m not alone, Kats. Do your parents insist on turning Christmas into a logistical nightmare, months ahead of time?”
“Chanukah. Remember?”
“Chanukah, right.” Still staring at her phone, she added, “Oh great, another assignment in Dumbass Illinois History. I thought high school would be awesome, Kats. Remember how we couldn’t wait to get out of Deerfield Middle?”
“Yeah.”
“But this place sucks. It sucks 24–7. Nobody here even plays Dragon Quest except you.”
Kitty staggered, bracing herself against a lawn chair left behind by the horticulture kids. The doctors hadn’t been able to identify the source of her headaches, but the pain was getting worse—and more frequent, too. She had an MRI scheduled for next week. Maybe that would show something…
“Dad, come on! Take a pill!” Robin didn’t look up from her phone. “Ever since he and Mom broke up, he just won’t leave me— hey, what’s up with your parents? Are they really splitting up, or is that just some Real Housewives-type drama?”
“B-birds…”
The pain seemed to pulsate through Kitty’s head. She leaned forward and grabbed her temples.
Please, God, she thought. I’m only thirteen and a half. I can’t be dying!
“Oh, dude, that’s the bell.” Robin’s voice seemed very far away. “We’re gonna be late. Ah, I don’t even care anymore. Suspend me, lock me up, shoot me at dawn. Anything’s better than Deerfield High.”
Then something new happened. The pain seemed to dissolve, melting into a strange tingling sensation. It tingled from her head down through her torso, and out into her arms and legs. She felt limp, helpless.
“Kats?”
Almost in slow motion, Kitty saw her friend approaching. Then Robin’s eyes went wide. She stopped short, her expression turning to shock.
I’m falling, Kitty realized. The roof grew closer, closer… She held out her arms to protect her face from the impact.
The impact didn’t come.
She just kept falling.
Kitty was vaguely aware of wooden beams, fiberglass insulation, and… a dead rat? And then she was in a large room, with screens and diagrams and the periodic table on the walls. Kids were running around, wearing lab smocks and visors, holding up beakers and instruments. Ms. Gennaro, the biology teacher, whirled to look up in surprise.
The bio lab? But that’s…
Kitty flailed around. Her hand struck a glass jar, knocking it off a counter. It shattered on the floor, spilling formaldehyde-preserved cockroaches.
Again she fell. Again she winced, and again she kept moving. The tingling sensation spread through her body, phasing her through the floor…
…to the media lab. Her classmate Ahmed jumped to his feet, mouthing her name, as she plummeted down in front of him. She passed right through his display in a shower of sparks. The screen turned to static, ruining the CGI model spaceship he’d been building. She didn’t even have time to apologize…
…before she found herself plunging down through the rafters of the gymnasium. No, she thought. This has to stop. Whatever it is, STOP!
All at once, the sensation faded. The pain, the tingling—all of it vanished. Kitty dropped like a rock, landing on a couple of girls, knocking them off their feet. The basketball they’d been passing dropped to the floor and bounced away.
She looked up, dazed. A dozen tall girls stood surrounding her, all dressed in shorts and loose shirts.
Great.
Seniors.
“Hey, guys.” She grimaced. “Go Deerfield?”
They stared. A couple shook their heads.
“What the hell…” Mr. Dido, the gym teacher, pushed his way through the mob of seniors. When he caught sight of Kitty, his unibrow furrowed. “Pryde? You’re out of uniform!”
A tall black girl turned to him. “ That’s your problem here?”
“She just fell, like, thirty feet!” another girl said.
Kitty looked up at the ceiling. There was no hole, no debris—no sign of her passage. Which meant only one thing could have happened.
One impossible thing.
Before Mr. Dido could reassert his precarious authority, an ancient speaker on the wall crackled to life.
“kkkTENTION… WILL kkkKATHERINE PRYDE PLEASE REPORrrrrkkkk PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE IMMEDIATELY…”
Wow. Kitty was almost impressed. This day actually managed to get worse!
The girls were still staring at her. Some of them seemed amused, others looked curious. Mr. Dido stepped forward, glaring.
“You heard the announcement.” He gestured at the wall speaker. “Saves me the trouble.”
Kitty turned and trudged away. Whispers and muffled laughter followed her through the door. She pulled out her phone, called up the chat app, and texted Robin.
BIRDS. YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHERE I’M HEADED.
The reply was quick and devastating.
STAY AWAY FROM ME, KATHERINE.
Kitty went numb. She recalled the expression on Robin’s face, the last glimpse she’d had of her friend on the roof. That look… it wasn’t just shock and surprise. There’d been… disgust, too.
A trio of emojis popped up on the phone. Godzilla, a two-headed man, and a radiation symbol. Kitty didn’t need a translation program to know what that meant.
Mutant.
Trudging down the empty hallway, she was barely aware of her surroundings. She’d had one real friend in this school, and now she had zero. The aide waved her into the principal’s office. Kitty pushed open the door, swallowing nervously.
An elegant woman in a business suit stepped up to meet her. “Hi, Kitten.”
“Mom?” Kitty looked around the small office, instinctively seeking an exit. “Dad? What are you doing here?”
Mr. Chiang, the pr
incipal, stood up and walked around his desk. He moved like a bomb-disposal cop approaching an unidentified package. He didn’t seem angry, but he was definitely on edge.
“Kitty,” he said. “I asked your parents to come in.”
“What?” Her head was whirling. They can’t know what I just… what just happened. I don’t think anybody really saw it— except Birds. Did… did she report me?
“Kitten, it’s okay.” Her father tried one of his lame smiles on her. “Principal Chiang thought we should discuss your educational situation.”
“My what?” she said. “Listen, I know my grades have slipped, but it’s really just… I’m bored, that’s all.”
“Bored.” Her father looked away, shaking his head. “She’s bored.”
“We know you’re smart, darling.” Her mother shot a glare at her father. “That’s why you’re having trouble.”
“Smart, yes, smart!” Kitty said quickly. “And I’m… rebellious, that’s the problem. I’m, you know, still getting used to high school. Studies have shown that the early teens are a point where acclimatization to a new environment requires—”
“Kitty! Calm down. You’re not in trouble here.” Mr. Chiang gestured toward a far door, behind his desk. “We just want you to meet someone.”
The door swung open, revealing a striking woman with pale skin and severely cut platinum-blond hair. She wore a spotless white business suit with a slit in the long skirt, and thick-rimmed glasses that seemed to magnify her hard, staring eyes.
“This is Ms. Frost,” Mr. Chiang said. “She represents a very exclusive, private academy.”
Kitty’s eyes strayed to the woman’s boots. They were white, like the rest of her clothing, with heels just a little too high for business wear.
“Hello, Katherine.” Ms. Frost stepped around the desk, a smirk teasing at the corners of her lips. “It’s good to meet you.” She held out a perfectly manicured hand.
Kitty stared at it, studying the frosted nail polish. When she glanced up, the expression on Ms. Frost’s face made her shiver. The way she was looking at Kitty…
Like I’m something good to eat.
“Kitten?” her father said. “This could be important to your future.”
