Chapter 10
The weeks continued to pass for the X-men. As always, the engineering team devoted themselves to their work, though progress was made at a snail's pace.
One afternoon, several members of the team sat in the rec room.
"I miss TV," Rogue admitted. A few of her teammates looked at her. "Well, I'm gettin' damn bored! Uh-no offense to anyone's company," she hastily added.
"I wish making CDs was practical," Iceman said wistfully. He had looked into the possibility of replicating CDs, but to do so would require inordinate amounts of dilithium. It couldn't be justified. However, Iceman, Rogue and Gambit had searched the ship one day and uncovered a CD player and several CDs from various crew quarters.
Unfortunately, the majority of the CDs they discovered were not to the liking of most X-men. "Dreadful," Bobby had summarized. "I guess we shouldn't be surprised that those suckers had such lousy taste," Rogue added. A few of the CDs, however, were not half bad and were frequently played in the rec room.
Jubilee held Aurora, who was dressed in one of the cozy outfits woven and given by the planet's inhabitants. Aurora slowly nursed at her mother's breast. "Hey, guess what?" she said. "After the engineering team is done with their work today, Beast is going to take a blood test on Aurora. We'll be able to find out if she's a mutant or not!"
"Oh, wow," Jean said. "You must be excited."
"I am like all nervous," Jubilee said. "And I don't know why! I think I want her to be a mutant, and I'll be disappointed if she's not. But I know that's stupid. I love her just the same either way, but I really *want* her to be a mutant. I just dunno." Aurora continued to take her time nursing, oblivious to her mom's turmoil. "How do you and Scott feel about that, with your baby?"
Jean smiled. "We just assume the baby will be a mutant."
"So how would you feel if he or she wasn't a mutant?"
"I-I guess I'd be shocked," Jean said. She honestly had not even entertained that possibility. "But I guess we would try to see the positive side too. I mean, if we have a healthy baby, that's all any parents can hope for. And when—or if-we return to earth, she will have it a bit easier, not being a mutant."
"I guess you're right," Jubilee admitted. She tried to let Jean's words sink in, though at the same time she really wanted her daughter to be a mutant. She looked down at Aurora. "Wow, she takes her time nursing! I didn't think nursing would take so long." She switched her to the other breast. Rory immediately took to it and nursed with more gusto than she had before.
By the time the group had assembled around the table in sick bay for dinner, the result of the test on Aurora had been shared with Jubilee. The X-men eagerly looked at Jubilee.
"I gotta say one thing first," Jubilee began. "I really wanna totally thank all of you again. I don't know what I'd do if it weren't for your help with babysitting. You guys are all so wonderful." Jubilee was extremely grateful for her fellow X-men. Whenever she needed to take a nap or just get away from the baby for a bit, someone was always willing to look after Rory.
"But now," Jubilee continued, "as for the results of the test...Aurora *is* a mutant!" she exclaimed. Cheers were exchanged around the table. The subject of their happiness slept in a cradle aside the table, completely oblivious to the reason for the rejoicing.
"I do think that's wonderful," the Professor said. "We will train her to use her powers and control them."
"Whatever those powers may be," Storm added. "We don't know for sure that Aurora will inherit Jubilee's powers. Maybe she will have different gifts." Storm smiled at Jubilee, "You know we would have accepted Rory just the same whether she was a mutant or not."
Scott nodded, "She's right. There have always been non-mutants who were part of our family, such as Moira MacTaggert."
A question popped into Iceman's head. "Forgive my ignorance," he began, looking in the direction of the Professor. "I know who Moira is, of course. But….well, do we know where she was at the time we left earth?" He desperately hoped he was not committing a major faux pas by asking, but he had not recalled anyone mentioning anything about the whereabouts of Moira since he'd rejoined the X-men. He knew, from his first stint with the X-men, that Moira was the brilliant non-mutant scientist who ran her own research facility on Muir Island. He knew that Moira and the Professor had been romantically involved decades ago, but for whatever reason had ended their relationship and remained in contact as friends only.
"We're not sure, Bobby," the Professor said softly. "Moira and her husband-you remember that she married a mutant called Banshee, right?-were experiencing quite a bit of harassment. The climate on Muir Island, when it came to mutants, was only marginally better than it had been in the United States. Moira dedicated her life to researching mutants and trying to find ways for us to live peacefully with non-mutants. That attitude was not in favor on Muir Island any more than it was in America. Moira also has a son and step-daughter who are mutants, in addition to her husband. So they all were experiencing a fair amount of….persecution.
"We spoke about the possibility of Moira, Banshee, Siryn and Proteus coming to live with the X-men," the Professor continued. "My last conversation with Moira was perhaps two weeks before we were kidnapped. She had said that she and her family now agreed that coming to live with us would be beneficial. They were making plans to tie up their affairs and move to New York. Then we were captured. So I do not know what has become of her."
Iceman looked down at his plate. "I hope, um, you're not mad at me for bringing this up."
"Not at all, Bobby. I do often wonder how she and her family are faring."
"Well Moira and Banshee are very strong and resourceful," Scott said. "And so are their children. Proteus is one of the most powerful mutants there is. I'm sure they're fine."
The Professor nodded, and was content to leave it at that. He preferred not to dwell on the subject of mutants on earth. None of the team did. A few of the optimists in the group held onto hope that life for mutants on earth was getting better, but few truly believed that.
Jean Grey was one of the optimists. Despite her naturally upbeat personality, though, she wondered day in and day out how her own family was faring. Her mind flashed back to one of the last times they were all together. The occasion had been her parents' 35th anniversary. Jean's parents, John and Elaine, had made dinner reservations at their favorite restaurant, Braxton's. Jean's sister and brother-in-law, Sara and Tom, were to join them with their own children, Gail and Joey. Jean and Scott met the group at Jean's parents' house. Hugs and kisses were exchanged all around, and the group had merrily piled into Sara and Tom's minivan to head for Braxton's.
The restaurant had had a NO MUTANTS sign displayed prominently in its window.
Elaine gasped. "I had no idea…..We haven't been here for over a year and this sign wasn't here before….I can't believe it."
Sara defiantly said, "Let's go in anyway. I mean, Braxton's is not going to perform a genetic test on you guys. How will they know?" Another family passed by the Greys, noting their hesitation and conflict over the sign. Tom craned his head around, worried over what they might be thinking. "What's wrong?" Joey asked his parents, too young to really be able to size up the situation.
Jean exchanged thoughts with Scott. /We should not be ashamed. We have nothing to be ashamed about. It's not our fault./
/But I am sensing that you do feel shame, Jean. And I feel that, but I'm mostly damn angry./ Scott thought.
/I am too./ Jean turned to her parents. Sara was still trying to convince the group to just ignore the sign. "Let's not try to go in," Jean said softly. "It could get ugly."
John put his arm around his wife. "What about that Italian restaurant you love? It's not far from here."
Elaine nodded. "Yes; that's a great idea."
"You mean Clara's?" Tom asked. "We'll never get in there on a Saturday night without a reservation."
Jean didn't need her powers to pick up Tom's thoughts. He was annoyed, and not at the restaurant for displaying the sign either. Sara narrowed her eyes at her husband, upset at his reaction.
But perhaps not too upset, Jean had thought to herself. Just months earlier, Sara had urged Jean that she and Scott should adopt when the time was right. "Sis, I know it's none of my business," Sara had said, "but you probably shouldn't bring more mutants into this world. You two ought to adopt instead." Jean had kept her mouth closed. Sara did not say more, but Jean felt her sister's worry. Sara was afraid that her own two children would be mutants.
The group piled back in the minivan. "I wanna eat at Braxton's!" Joey demanded. "Why can't we go there?" Gail looked at her younger brother, "Joey, be quiet," she hushed.
The group had reached Clara's. It didn't matter that there was a 50 minute wait for a party of eight. Clara's had a NO MUTANTS sign too.
The family eventually was welcomed into a tiny Indian restaurant that Sara recommended. Two tables were pushed together to accommodate the Grey family. Elaine could not control her feelings, and began to sob over her chicken curry.
"Mama," Jean said quietly, getting up. She knelt next to her mother and hugged her.
Elaine's tears flowed freely now. "Jeanie, I love you so much," she sobbed. "And I'm not crying because you're a mutant. It doesn't matter to me or make me love you any less. I'm crying because of all the prejudice you and Scott have to face." Other patrons of the restaurant discretely looked in their direction, curious as to what was happening.
Jean hugged her mother harder. "I love you too, Mom. We're going to be ok. Everything will be alright," she murmured, glad that her mother did not have the ability to read others' thoughts.
"Ground control to Jean," Rogue said. Jean was jolted from her thoughts.
"Huh?" Jean asked. "Oh, sorry," she said. She recalled that Rogue had just asked her to pass the potatoes. "I was just reminiscing about something," she explained. She passed the bowl to Rogue and once again was swept up in her thoughts. She wished desperately that her parents would be able to see their third grandchild. She suddenly felt that she was a long, long way from home.
When Jean returned to her room that evening, she wrote more poetry. She had always loved poetry and the last few weeks had been attempting to write some herself. She looked forward to sharing some of these verses with the others.
Rogue and Gambit were making love on the bridge. They hadn't intended for it to happen there, where anyone could walk in on them at any time. But they often spent their evenings kissing and cuddling together there, looking out at the view of the sea. Rogue even kept a collar stashed away in one of the compartments on the bridge, just in case she forgot to tote one along. This particular evening, their kisses had been more urgent than usual and neither felt like making the walk back to their room.
Both of them were still able to enjoy the view of the sea, though. Rogue stood, bent over one of the consoles, her palms resting on the surface. Her uniform was piled around her feet. Gambit had lovingly admired the view of her naked posterior, so round and smooth, before he slid his condom-clad length inside her warm wetness. Rogue groaned low. He grasped her hips from behind and pumped in and out. The view of her from this angle was delectable.
"Oh, Remy," Rogue murmured. Gambit craned his head forward and nibbled one of Rogue's ears. His tender ministrations beforehand had seen to her arousal. Now she just wanted him to keep up that divine movement of his hips. And his cock. Damn he used it well. It was so powerful, so strong, bringing them both such amazing sensations.
Gambit continued to plunge in and out of her womanhood, delighted at how her wet pink treasures grasped him, driving him insane with lust. He momentarily took his hands from her hips and brought them to her bosom. She hadn't removed her bra yet; they'd been so eager. He grasped her full, ripe breasts. They tumbled forth from the confines of her bra. Gambit squeezed and kneaded the flesh. "I know you like dat, chere," Gambit breathed as his hands worked. His hips moved more furiously against her.
Rogue thrust her hips back at him, oblivious to anything except their mutual pleasure. The entire team could have walked onto the bridge and she would not have cared. She groaned and grunted loudly as one of Gambit's hands reached her clit. His talented fingers rubbed against the erect nub, sending Rogue over the brink. She loudly cried out as the climax overtook her. Gambit had wanted to hold on longer, see how many times he could make her come tonight with him inside her. But his lust burst too, and the waves of ecstasy cascaded through his body.
They couple lay on the floor of the bridge together, panting. When they had rested enough, they made love again.
We held a ceremony to welcome Aurora into our family. Storm had gotten on the computer to look up ideas for rituals, though trying to come up with one that would please everyone would be an impossible task, given that we are a mixture of different religions and beliefs. Finally, Storm settled on asking Jubilee what she would like. Jubilee said she was now an agnostic with pagan leanings, and Storm used that as a guide when preparing the ceremony.
"Hmmmm," I heard Storm say as she sat at the computer. "This one ceremony calls for the new mom to stand in a circle, with all the other mothers surrounding her."
"We ain't gonna have much luck with that, since she's the only mother," Rogue said.
"And then," Storm continued, her eyes on the computer, "all the grandmothers are to form another, outer circle."
"Well, if there ain't any mothers here, there probably ain't any grandmothers, either," Rogue added.
We eventually settled on having all of us stand in a circle, with Jubilee in the middle, holding the baby. The ceremony was relatively short and simple, but moving. We lit some candles and Storm recited a few blessings. I don't remember all of what she said, but her words were to the effect that as a community, we have a responsibility to create a safe space for Aurora and for teaching her how to use her gifts and on and on. Some of us offered ideas on how to go about creating and maintaining that community. Jubilee thanked us all, Storm asked for a blessing from "the Goddesses, the Gods, the Universal Spirit or whatever else we all might believe in" and that was it.
The winter passed slowly. It still was too cold to go out for more than a few minutes at a time, except for Wolverine. Many lazy days were spent in the rec room, with everyone fawning over Aurora. The engineering team made marginal progress. They told us one evening at dinner that they now knew they had the tools they needed to repair the engines on board the ship. Successfully repairing them would be another issue though. The four spent many hours in the engineering room, working away. They always reminded us, though, not to get too optimistic. "It still could be months before we fix them properly," the Professor said. And the team worked very slowly, mindful of not making a mistake, lest we end up worse off than before.
Hank once told me that he was learning more about engineering than he had ever wanted to.
When Aurora was about 8 to 10 weeks old (and successfully gaining weight, which was important since her birth weight was low), the weather started to warm up. Snow and ice outdoors melted. The temperature climbed back up to the 30's and 40's, as the sun was now more prominent. You could go outside without your nose and fingers turning numb in minutes, though the sea still blew cold wind on us.
The Professor was not about to forbid us from leaving the ship. He was as sick of being cooped up as we all were, and he simply reminded us to try to avoid contact with the natives. We went back to taking long walks outdoors, in groups of at least two, the Professor included. Jubilee would bundle the baby up and walk with us. She often used the carrier that the natives had made for her.
A few times I was out with Wolverine, and he would sniff the air. "They're not far," he told us. "They're watching us from the forest," he would say. Yet for whatever reason, they did not approach. Part of me almost wished they would. We knew they were friendly people, and it sure would break up the monotony of the days if they'd pay us visits again. Maybe they'd even play music for us again!
Jean was due in just a couple weeks now. She was as glad as the rest of us to be able to experience the outdoors and breathe fresh air. She seemed very centered and content in her pregnancy. She and Scott spent much time cuddled up in the rec room together, talking softly with each other.
One day Jean, Scott, Hank, and Storm hastily returned to the ship from a walk. "Professor!" Jean called out, as she hurried into the rec room.
"I know," the Professor said calmly, looking intently at one of the monitors.
"What do we do?" Jean asked.
"Do you mind lettin' the rest of us in on this?" Wolverine asked.
The Professor turned to face the group. "Let me first call everyone to meet in here," he said, as he moved his wheelchair towards the intercom. My heart started to pound. Clearly, this was going to be serious.
As Jubilee, Colossus and Gambit made their way to join all of the rest of us in the lounge, I glanced at the monitor. A large group of natives was rapidly approaching the ship. They gathered in front of it and stood there.
"What's going on?" Jubilee asked.
"We have a situation on our hands," the Professor said. He explained, "Jean and I are sensing their emotions now. Out of all the times we've had contact with them, they have never been so…. terrified."
"They're desperate," Jean said slowly. "And they have come here to beg us for our help."
"What do they need our help with?" Storm asked as.
"I can't tell," the Professor said. "It is very difficult to detect specifics. I just sense overwhelming fear and desperation. It is quite a shock, sensing this from them."
"Their minds had always been so peaceful and tranquil," Jean added. "They were such a happy people. This….sensing that they feel such terror is astonishing, to say the least."
We all exchanged looks with each other across the room. "So," Cyclops began, "what do we do?"
I looked at the Professor and, without being a mind-reader, sensed he was no longer as firm in his policy of avoidance as he once had been.
"Professor, I know you strongly believed that we should avoid contact with these people," Jean began, "but I must say that I feel we should help them. Or, I should say, we should find out what they want us to help with."
"It is very difficult to turn away from a plea for help," the Professor acknowledged.
Storm spoke, "What harm would it cause to just meet with them? They are already aware of our existence, and already had an exchange with four of our people, months ago. We can at least find out what they want."
"They might want something that would be very easy for us to provide," Cyclops said.
One by one, members of the team provided compelling arguments for meeting with the natives. It was pointed out that perhaps we had a purpose in being here. If they asked where we came from or for more information about us, we could be vague. The argument that continuing to ignore them might be an even greater disruption came up. I could sense the Professor's resolve fading away. Jean certainly must have sensed it, and she argued the most persuasively.
"Okay," the Professor finally said. "I fear that we might be making a mistake. But I acknowledge the logic in all of your arguments. Let us arrange to meet with them. At the very least, we can find out what they want. In the end, however, we may very well have to refuse to help."
It was decided that the Professor, Cyclops and Storm would head out there to see them and discuss the logistics of meeting with them. We prepared to monitor them from the bridge. "Stay on your toes," Wolverine warned.
"Do not worry," the Professor said. "These people are not capable of hurting us, even if they wanted to."
After only a few minutes, the Professor, Cyclops and Storm re-entered the ship. Everyone was so eager, they waited by the entrance ramp for an update. We stood around in the hall, discussing what had happened.
"I communicated telepathically with them, letting them know that we would listen to what they had to say and consider the possibility of helping them," the Professor said. "They were glad to hear that and they offered to host the meeting in their village. They are waiting to escort all of us there."
We all exchanged excited looks. Cyclops asked, "Professor, is it safe for all of us to go? I would recommend that at least a few of us stay back here on the ship."
The Professor nodded. "Although I am certain that they have no intent to harm us at all, it would be wise for some of us to remain here." The Professor's eyes surveyed the group. I noticed a lot of people avoiding his eyes or looking down. "Are there any volunteers?" he asked.
There were none. The Professor took a deep breath. "I hate to do this. I know that everyone is extremely curious and eager to meet the natives. But logic demands that at least a few of us remain here." He paused. "Rogue, Gambit and Jubilee, you will remain on this ship. We will take one of the ship's video cameras with us so you can monitor us." I had to admit that I was relieved he had not called my name. Hank looked downright thrilled.
Rogue's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure it's a good idea for Jean to go? Jean, aren't you due like any day now?"
"I'm not due for another 15 days," Jean answered. "And I am still capable of walking. Besides, I'll need to `translate' for everyone while the Professor 'talks' to the people telepathically."
The Professor said, "Your telepathic abilities will come in handy. And the natives were very warm and welcoming to Jubilee when she was pregnant. Not that I think that much matters; these people will not try to hurt us. Jean, the call is yours."
"I want to go," she said.
Cyclops looked at her. "Are you sure it's safe?" The two of them quarreled a bit. He didn't want her to go either. But she would not budge on her desire to join the group, and he had to relent.
"Professor," Hank began, "as you know I am very eager to go on this mission. I can hardly wait to see their village and interact with them. But….won't my appearance be unsettling to them?"
The Professor smiled, "I did tell them that one of our people has an unconventional appearance. I described it in detail but they were completely fine with it. In fact, they had a positive reaction. I think you'll be fine."
"Besides, we *all* look weird to them," Jean said, smiling.
The eight of us bid our farewells to Rogue, Gambit, Jubilee and Aurora. I followed the Professor, Storm, Jean, Cyclops, Colossus, Hank and Wolverine down the ramp, wondering what would be in store for us.
A group of about 25 natives stood outside the ship, waiting for us. They bowed and said a few words. "They are thanking us and welcoming us," Jean said. She translated for us as the Professor telepathically communicated with them. Several of the natives approached Jean and placed their hands on her belly, giving her the blessing as they had done before. They then spoke some more.
"They are telling us it will be about an hour's walk to their village, "Jean translated. "They are offering us water to drink."
The people passed a large canteen to us. Wolverine sniffed it first, and then pronounced the water safe to drink. Conversation during the walk was minimal. Jean told us, "These people are terrified. Not of us though. But they are scared….I think it is why they're not as talkative as they normally would be."
During our walk, however, we did thank them for the gifts they had left us. "They're happy that we're thanking them," Jean said. "They said they were glad to offer them."
We tested our communicators and cameras during the walk. "We can see and hear y'all loud and clear," Rogue said, over the communicator.
We walked deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest. I mused that perhaps I should be afraid. Surely the Bobby Drake of years' past would've been. We're on an alien planet, thousands of light years away from earth, being led into a forest by an alien people who are terrified of something yet unknown to us. But I was more fascinated than scared. I reminded myself it was a heck of a lot safer for a mutant here than on earth.
We reached a clearing and came upon the village. Several tents were set up, and dozens of people milled about. A few campfires were set up. Large animals resembling dogs roamed around and I caught the smell of something delicious cooking. As we walked to the center of the village, I noticed that most people resembled those we'd met months before. Their tribe did not seem to have the diversity of appearances that we did.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw several children exchange excited glances with each other. "Goluba!" one of them exclaimed. Soon, they were all saying, "Goluba!" over and over again. I noticed they kept pointing at Hank.
Suddenly, Jean began laughing. "What is it?" Hank asked.
"The children are all excited," Jean said, through her laughter, "because you resemble a character in their mythology. Their myths, the stories they pass along to their children, include a big, friendly, furry….beast named Goluba. They think you look just like him and they're so happy to see you."
Hank smiled. The children rushed up to him and hugged him. They cuddled around his legs, crying out, "Goluba! Goluba!" The adult natives continued to talk, and Jean translated some more. "Oh, I see. Hank, you're almost their version of Santa Claus. Goluba apparently brings the children gifts several times a year. Each time the season changes, he distributes presents for the children. He also sings and tells them stories."
"No wonder they like him so much," I said.
Hank was taking it all quite good-naturedly. A few of the younger children held their arms up, wanting to be picked up. Hank asked Jean, "Find out if the adults would find it acceptable for me to hold them."
Jean communicated with the natives and then replied, "They say `sure'!" So Hank picked up a few of the children.
"When are you going to sing and tell stories?" I asked, grinning. Hank did not dignify that with a reply.
When we reached the central campfire, Hank set the children down. The children continued to mill around him and a few curled up in his lap. They're lucky that "Goluba" bears a resemblance to Hank and not to, say, Wolverine.
The natives asked us to sit around the campfire. About 20 men and women sat down with us, and they began by offering us food and drink.
Wolverine sniffed all the food suspiciously before allowing us to touch any of it, though the Professor and Jean assured us that they had no desire to hurt us. "I don't doubt either of you on this," Wolverine said, "but for all we know, their food is poisonous to us. Yeah, it ain't likely since we can breathe their air, but it is possible. Let me sample all the food first. If it is poison, I'll recover quickly."
So we let him test the food for us. They offered us something which Wolverine said tasted like venison, a variety of different types of nuts, dried fruits and a bean dish which was peppered with strong spices. Wolverine pronounced everything safe to ingest. I skipped the meat, but enjoyed the rest of the food. The nuts tasted just like walnuts and were quite good. The dried fruits tasted exactly like apples and peaches, and the bean dish was really delicious and very spicy.
They also presented us with a very bitter beverage to drink. "There's booze in here," Wolverine said. Jean requested water to drink, and I was glad she had. Whatever kind of booze it was, it was way too bitter for my taste buds. It was like *extreme* beer or something. Most of us drank water, though I noticed Wolverine and Colossus downing the bitter beverage. Both seemed to enjoy it quite a bit.
When we were settled and had begun our meeting, the natives began communicating with the Professor. It fascinated me that they did not seem to find our method of communicating odd. The Professor simply spoke into their minds and was able to discern their meanings though neither knew the others' language. Throughout the exchange, Jean translated for us (and for those back on the ship.)
We first began with introductions. The person with whom the Professor had most of his dialog was an elderly woman named Nurya. She was the leader of this tribe. I noticed that Nurya appeared to have no teeth, and her face was heavily lined. It was hard, though, to guess her, or any of the natives', age. The others who sat around the fire were identified as members of the council, who helped make decisions for the tribe. There appeared to be just about an even balance of men and women.
We briefly introduced ourselves, just by saying our names. The Professor introduced himself as our leader. I had really thought they would have tons of questions for us (like, where we're from, why we look so different from them, why we communicate by talking into their minds, etc.) but they asked none of these things. Once introductions were made, the Professor asked that we get to business and be told why we were brought here-and the natives were only too glad to get right to that as well.
"They are requesting our help," Jean said. She would give us a sentence or two as she "listened" in on the Professor's communication with Nurya. "….They say that a pack of demons have been attacking villages to the East of here…..They are having a lot of trouble describing what exactly has been happening because they have no experience with this. They're a peaceful people, and they have no weapons except those which they use for hunting…..For a long time, they had been hearing rumors about demons attacking, and they'd thought they were just rumors or stories…..Lately, though, refugees from the attacked villages have been pouring into other villages, closer to the East where the attacks are taking place…..The refugees are describing horrible things." Jean paused and swallowed. "These people can't understand it at all….Apparently the `demons' are coming into the villages, burning them, looting them, taking some of the people off with them and killing everyone else….There is no reasoning with the attackers, and they won't ever say what they want…..All they can tell is that they want to kill and burn the villages down and take some of the people—mostly the women-with them…..They are describing some really horrible things, like babies and children being killed….the attackers sometimes take them and impale them on a spear." Jean had to pause. She sounded horrified and put her hands on her belly. Scott put his arm around her. She regained her composure and continued, "Again, these people here are just totally stunned. They have no experience with war or….violence. They get along with all of their neighbors and this is astonishing to them.
"They say that they can tell we must have special gifts and would be able to help them make the demons go away," Jean continued. "That is why they have called us here."
"How far are we from the areas that are being attacked?" Cyclops asked.
The Professor relayed his question, and Jean translated. "They are having trouble answering because they don't have good measures for distance….They're saying it would take perhaps 40-60 days to walk to the areas under siege on foot….They do have ships and could sail to the areas under siege. They guess it would take maybe 20 days."
"What do they mean by `demons'?" Storm asked. "What else can they tell us about their attackers?"
Jean waited, listening for the reply. "They can tell us very little…The refugees who have been fleeing the attacked villages are extremely traumatized….They've seen their families killed. They have no experience with such violence and are so traumatized that they can't give much information."
Then a chilling thing happened. As the Professor continued translating, a few members of the council pointed at me. I was tempted to say, `I didn't do it!' but that was clearly not the time for humor, and I was freaked out at being singled out.
Jean said, "They are saying that out of everyone sitting around the circle, Bobby resembles the description of the attackers the most."
As I gulped and felt my face grow pale, someone asked in what way I resembled them. Looking at my teammates, out of the men I had the most narrow build, the fairest skin and the lightest hair. When Jean received the translation, she confirmed this. "They survivors of the attack described the attackers as having hair the color of Bobby's or lighter and skin around that shade." My hair is light brown. Jean added, "They're saying they only saw males among the attackers."
I think Jean noticed my discomfort and said, "Don't worry, Bobby. They know you weren't involved in the attacks. They're simply saying that out of all of us, you come closest to what the attackers looked like."
The Professor said, "I am going to ask them how certain they are that this is happening, and is not the rumor or story they originally thought it was."
Jean translated the reply. "Members of the council have traveled to the East and met with the refugees. That is why they sought our help now. A few members of the council just got back from their trip, and one of the men sitting around this fire with us is a refugee. He has seen everything with his own eyes."
"What specifically do they want us to do?" Cyclops asked.
"Whatever we can do to keep the `demons' away from their villages….Anything we can do to protect them…..They have no desire to harm the invaders; they just want to be left alone. They're willing to give up all their valuables if the invaders would just stop killing their people and abducting them….But any attempts to reason with or bargain with the invaders have been futile. They simply attack the villages and take everything they want, and kill anyone everyone who they don't abduct."
I noticed at this point the Professor looking very grim and as if he were experiencing some mental anguish. Jean translated for us, "The Professor is telling them that we will consider helping them but we need to discuss it with our entire tribe."
At this point, as Jean told us, the natives started to ask us a bit about ourselves and where we came from. The Professor was very evasive; simply saying that we came from far away. They asked how many members of our tribe there were, and was quite surprised when the answer was 12. "They're asking us why there are so few of us," Jean said. "The Professor again is being vague….They're telling us that with only 12 of us, our tribe is not likely to continue on for generations." Jean added, "I think it would be interesting if the Professor would tell them that we are also fleeing people who attacked us for no reason, kidnapped us and tried to kill us. But, for obvious reasons, he's not."
After the meeting around the campfire, our hosts asked us to stay for just a bit. The Professor looked uncomfortable with doing so but, for whatever reason, agreed. The natives played music for us, fed us more, and danced for us.
It was brilliant. Their music was invigorating and danceable. Somehow all the awful things that Jean had just relayed to the group were being erased from my memory, at least temporarily. The dancing performed by the natives was so…..joyous. Both men and women performed these amazing balletic leaps and graceful moves as the musicians played away. I was so tempted to get up and join them, but didn't.
I overheard Hank asking Jean to try to learn more about their culture. We learned so much. I am sure I don't remember it all but I saw Hank's mind working away, trying to remember every detail. They do not have a written language. They have no social inequities-things like housing and boats are all owned in common and no one goes hungry or homeless. Hank asked a number of questions trying to get at whether these people had any social stratification (i.e.—any groups of people treated as inferiors, due to their financial status, race, sex, etc.) They had none. He asked them about their artwork, commenting on the expert craftsmanship of the gifts they had given us. The natives were extremely proud of the quality of their crafts.
Cyclops asked Jean to find out what they typically spent their days doing. Jean smiled as she translated, "They said that they spend their days making music, dancing, working on crafts, painting, and making love." She then added, "As an afterthought, I am being told that they hunt, fish, garden, construct clothing and tents, raise their children, perform woodwork, and do all sorts of things that need to be done in order to keep the village running."
"Wow, they sound cool," I commented.
Hank asked about their religion. Basically, I would sum up their beliefs as pantheistic. They view nature as sacred, and consider all the things they love doing (making music, painting, making crafts, and-the one that seemed to be their favorite-making love) a tribute to what they hold sacred.
We asked how many villages there were that lived life as they did, and how many people this encompasses. They had trouble answering this, but guessed there were about 20 other such villages. They said they thought most were comparable in size to theirs, and they had amicable relations with these other tribes, trading with them "and making love with them during our festivals."
They also asked us many of these same questions. Again the Professor was elusive; he simply said that we preferred to not reveal too much about ourselves. He added that we needed to get back to the rest of our tribe soon.
Before we left, Nurya had an exchange with the Professor. Jean said, "She's asking him if we would like to….Oh boy. She's asking if any of us want to make love with any members of their tribe. The Professor is politely declining her offer. She's seriously confused about why we would say no….but she's not offended…..The Professor is telling her we will communicate with them in a few days, with our answer to their call for help against the `demons.'"
With that, we stood up. A handful of natives led us back to our ship. Conversation was nearly non-existent on the way back. A few times I glanced at the Professor's face. I didn't like what I saw there.
The 11 of us sat around the table in sick bay. Jubilee held the sleeping Aurora. Hank's face was afire with the knowledge he'd gained from our trip and was madly jotting notes down, trying to remember everything he'd learned. I'd never seen the Professor looking quite so grim.
"I have made a huge mistake," he began quietly. He shook his head. "I cannot believe I exercised such bad judgement, but I have." He dropped his face into his hands. "I made an extremely poor decision. I let boredom influence me." He paused and repeated, "Boredom, of all things."
Jean looked down. "You're saying we shouldn't help them," she said, softly but flatly.
"We have already meddled in their evolution far too much. Shame on us." He paused. "No, shame on *me.* I'm the leader and I made these horrible decisions."
Several looks were exchanged. We'd never seen the Professor so remorseful. But I think the looks people exchanged suggested something else too. I mean, no one else really looked regretful.
"Professor," Storm began, "will you consider the possibility that maybe helping them *is* the right thing to do?"
He looked at her. "How do you arrive at that, Storm?"
Storm's facial expression betrayed no loss of composure. I wonder what she was feeling, though. The Professor's tone had not been encouraging. "Well, Professor," she began, "these people have a remarkable civilization. I know that compared to much of what are considered great civilizations on earth, this one does not stand out. But they are peaceful, non-violent and socially completely equitable. Those are remarkable achievements, something that very few cultures on earth have been able to attain. If the reports of the attackers are accurate…..their culture will be destroyed, in favor of a warlike people."
"I do not disagree with you, Storm, that they have a wonderful culture. But how can we justify meddling in their history, their evolution? We could change the flow of events that were meant to occur. Our being here already has changed some of it."
Jean shrugged, "Well, once these invaders kill or enslave everyone, it won't much matter, will it?" Her tone left no question on where she stood. "Anyone with any memory of us will be gone."
Jubilee asked, "There is something I just don't get. Why are we so reluctant to interfere in the events on this planet? If we can do some good, then why not?"
The Professor answered her. "The harm lies in the fact that we do not know how life and history were meant to unfold for the inhabitants of this planet. Let me give an example." He paused. "I dislike the idea of violent invaders coming in and destroying all these innocent lives. But suppose for a moment that the invaders were to, over a period of time, turn non-violent and develop an amazing civilization. Perhaps they spawn several inventors and geniuses. Perhaps later, their planet suffers some sort of crisis. It is the genius that comes out of some of the members of this civilization that saves the planet. Now, if we meddle in their affairs today and prevent the attackers from doing any more harm, then perhaps these geniuses are never born or never develop their talents. Then we have radically altered, in a most negative way, the evolution of their planet."
"But Professor," Jean began, "that is all speculation. We don't know what will occur. And if I may bring up the other side, perhaps it is members of *this* civilization who are destined to do great things and save the planet. They already have a wonderful culture. If we let it be taken over by these….invaders, then this civilization and it's knowledge is lost."
"That is precisely my point, Jean. We *do not know* which is the better route to take. We do not know what will occur or what is truly in the best interests for the planet's inhabitants, and that is why non-intervention is the only way."
"But if we can prevent human suffering," Jubilee began, "I mean, these invaders sound terrible. If we can prevent them from killing or enslaving anyone else…."
"Jubilee, the bottom line is that we do not know which path will prevent suffering. What is transparent to us now might look differently centuries down the road. Perhaps in the long run, allowing history to run its course and allowing these invaders their way will bring the least amount of suffering."
"So do we just turn our backs on these people?" Colossus asked. "They ask us for our help. So we just have to say no, and understand that they might all die because of that?"
"We never should have met with them in the first place," the Professor said. "I made a grave error in allowing that. I apologize to all of you for the poor decision. I allowed emotion to influence me, and it must not happen again."
"Emotion is not a negative thing," Jean said.
The discussions continued. I don't even remember all of it since we had been through all of this before. We talked about the fact that no one knew what our purpose in being here was, but maybe we were here to help. Others said maybe we were not meant to be here at all. The Professor questioned potentially putting our lives at risk.
What was interesting about the discussions is that the Professor was generally the only one arguing for non-intervention. No one else seemed to agree with him. Hank, Cyclops, and Storm usually go with whatever his viewpoint is. That wasn't happening today.
"I got an idea," Rogue said. "What if Storm and I were to do some reconnaissance? She and I can fly East and take a look at what all is happening over there? At least we can get more information. If we fly high enough above, no one will notice us."
"I could create some mist that we can hide behind. Or perhaps hide us behind the glare of the sun," Storm said.
The Professor sighed. "I don't know if that is necessary. One of the refugees was sitting around the circle with us. I read his mind and his memories. Everything Nurya and the others told us is true." He paused, "In fact Nurya spared us some of the details. The memories of the attacks in this survivor's mind were….extremely gory and brutal."
"If we see it for ourselves, it might make us more determined to help these people," Rogue said. She said it flatly and didn't make it sound like an attack on the Professor's viewpoint. She just said it as a fact.
"Yes," the Professor said softly. He took a breath. "I cannot bear the thought of innocent people being attacked and killed any more than you can. It greatly disturbs me. And I hope I do not sound as if I am completely uncaring about these people's plight. But it also disturbs me that we have the power to come in here and disrupt their evolution."
An argument that we have had before came up. The Professor asked how we would like it if, centuries ago, people from another planet came and interfered with our history. The counter-argument, that we've also had before, was brought up: for all we know, that *did* happen.
"Professor," Storm began, "this would not be the first time we have changed the course of history on another world. If you recall, many years ago, I was brought to Arkon's world and I was asked to help them, and I did so."
"That was a little different, though. You were abducted by Arkon."
"Well, she was abducted `den and now we crash landed here," Gambit said. "One way or another, we ended up somewhere. I tink dere is a reason for us being here an we should help dese people." I thought that was interesting, coming from Gambit. He wasn't the most spiritual person.
"We could help in a way that won't harm anyone," Jean said. "Without seeing the situation first hand, it is hard to say how but perhaps Storm could create some strong winds and carry the invaders back to where they came from. I could use my telekinesis to take their weapons or float them far away."
"Maybe we could dump `em on an island somewhere," Wolverine suggested. "That way, no one's hurt. We find an island where there are no other people, let the invaders live out their lives there, and these people will stay safe." As I listened to him, I had to wonder how satisfied Wolverine really was with this plan. I had to bet he'd really want to get down there and do battle with the bad guys.
I glanced at the Professor. The train had left the station. He was the only one who did not want to help the natives, and he knew it. Even if he didn't have telepathic abilities, he would have known it. He was also gearing up for a speech. "I see that I cannot change your minds," he finally said. "If this is what all of you want to do, I will not try to stop you." He paused. "I hope you consider that I might be right and that intervention might be wrong. Of course we may never know the consequences of our actions, in the centuries and millennia to come. I don't harbor any ill will against any of you for disagreeing with me, because I know that you want only to help and do what you think is right."
"Professor," Jean said softly but passionately, putting her hand over his, "I know in my heart that this is the right thing to do,"
"I know that is what you believe. Oftentimes in life there are no easy answers and we can only struggle to do what we think is right. I sometimes question the decisions I have made." He paused. "As we all know, sometimes a questionable decision can leave one staying up all night, wondering if one truly did the right thing. Many times I ask myself whether I was wrong to not punish those of you who tortured and killed the Friends of Humanity soldiers. But I chose to do nothing about it at the time, and I must live with my decision, though I now think it was wrong. And it occurred a year ago, so taking any action now would be inappropriate." He took a breath. "I hope I can live with my decision to not impede you from acting now." He looked around the table. "I will leave you for now," he said, as he turned his chair towards the door. "Please go ahead and discuss what you plan to do. I won't stop you."
He then left the room. We were quiet for a few moments. Storm then spoke, "Let us discuss what our plan is. But first….does anyone else disagree with the idea of helping these people? If you disagree, don't hesitate to speak up, like the Professor did. No one will think ill of you, and of course we will not force anyone into participating."
Hank added, "And we do not want to use `group think' to compel everyone to go along with us. Disagreement is always acceptable."
Still, no one verbalized any disagreement. Storm and Cyclops then led us in a discussion of what our next steps would be. Rogue's idea of performing reconnaissance was seen as a good one. As Cyclops said, "Even though we know Nurya was telling the truth, we need to get some idea of how many invaders there are, what their next steps and plans are, and what it might take to stop them."
We had a long discussion around this, as well. Everyone liked the idea of Storm and Rogue flying to perform the scouting ahead. I suggested that we strap a videocamera to one of them, so that those of us back on the ship could see what they did. My teammates liked that idea! (I felt proud at coming up with a good suggestion, especially since all this battle and military stuff really isn't my thing.)
The question of how to allow Rogue and Storm to get close to the invaders without being detected came up. Storm's original thought of using mist as a cover probably would not work, because if the mist was between the X-men and the invaders, we would not be able to see what was going on either. We tossed around several ideas of how to accomplish getting Storm and Rogue close enough but undetected.
Finally Jean said, "I can use my powers to alter their minds, in that they could think Storm and Rogue are just….two birds flying around or something." She reminded us of how she has used that power in the past. She can get inside people's heads and make them think they are seeing something other than what they are truly seeing. She said over the years she has enhanced this power and gotten better at it.
"But you'll need to be right there," Cyclops said. "You can't do that from a great distance."
"That's true," Jean said.
"I could carry her," Rogue offered.
Scott now looked extremely nervous. "Jean, you're eight and a half months pregnant. I—I really worry about you doing something like this."
"At the first sign of trouble, I can fly her away," Rogue said.
"Scott, I appreciate your concern," Jean said, "but you remember that I can control people's minds. If there is any trouble, I can use my powers to turn the attackers away."
Wolverine spoke up," What if you can't control their minds? Maybe their minds are different from these other natives'?"
"I suppose it is….conceivable that I cannot control their minds," Jean said. "Though if they are the same species as the people we met with, I am certain I will be able to enter their minds. But if I cannot, then Rogue can fly me away." She looked Cyclops and Wolverine. "I really appreciate your concern. I've proven my ability so many times with the X-men….it hurts to hear you both questioning it."
"Jean, we only care about you," Scott said. "We are not questioning your abilities at all. Surely you know that."
She nodded. "I do. And I am sure you know that I am capable of doing this. Being pregnant doesn't interfere with my powers."
Storm glanced from Jean to Cyclops to Wolverine. "So should we prepare now? I think that we should waste no time in this."
With that, we got to work. We strapped a videocamera to Storm just as we had with the group who had met with the natives. We looked over maps to get an idea of where to head off to. Storm, Rogue and Jean prepared for their mission, and the rest of us got ready to back them up if need be.
I was to play a crucial role in backing up Storm, Rogue and Jean. As we discussed, if something unforeseen should happen and we needed to come to the aid of the three, we would need to find a way to get there quickly. Storm and Rogue are the only two of us who have the ability to fly. (Jean can also do something akin to flying, using her mind, but it is quite taxing on her powers. The Professor could do the same too, of course, but he had said he was not going to assist us with any part of this.) The remaining seven of us looked at each other and turned over the best ways to assist the three, should we need to. How could we cover a great distance in the shortest amount of time?
Cyclops looked at me. "Bobby, you used to have a way to get around quickly," he said.
"Yes," I answered. It's kinda hard to describe, but once I turn into Iceman, I can create these pathways made of ice and just kinda….coast along them. It's like the ice shoots out of my fingers, I make it into a pathway towards where I want to go and just basically glide along. I had practiced doing so several times in the Danger Room. It comes pretty naturally to me and I can go * fast.* We discussed only doing this in an emergency. The ice eventually melts and would not, we were fairly certain, harm any of the plant or animal life on the planet. I am not strong enough to carry anyone while I do this, but we discussed having someone grasp my waist and ride along with me. It sounded feasible to me, though I really hoped we wouldn't have to do this. I reminded myself how strong Storm, Rogue and Jean are. They are three very powerful mutants. What could go wrong? I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I was the one who freed us from the FOH soldiers. (Well, sorta.) I could do this too.
Oh, we did have two shuttles still aboard the ship but they weren't practical to use as a form of swift transport. They were built for transport, not speed, and would be cumbersome. We thought of using them only as a last resort.
There are some things in life that you see, that you cannot un-see. You wish your eyes had never been so cursed. That's how I felt that day when I stared at the monitors, which transmitted images from Storm's camera back to the group. The eight of us-including the Professor-sat by the monitors watching, though a few of us (like, Jubilee and myself) had to turn away at some points.
Storm, Rogue and Jean's mission was a success. After not long, they found the invading tribes. They weren't hard to spot, after all. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of these nomadic peoples. What became increasingly clear was that they were leaving a wake of destruction behind them.
We monitored Storm, Rogue and Jean's location on the computer, and maintained contact with them via the communicators. Of course, we saw what they saw by looking at the monitors. As we had discussed, Jean used her powers to have the invaders believe that they were a few birds flying around. No one took notice of them as they hovered around their camp.
Well, where do I start? The invaders' camp looked normal enough at first glance. It was clear that they loved their weapons, though, and most of the men in their society appeared to be warriors. We didn't see any weapons that looked more dangerous than swords, knives, and axes. Hank had a lap top computer and was typing away, gathering as many notes on these people as he could. So maybe someday I'll go back to his notes and enrich my description from them. But what I really want to write about is the horrible part. That's the part I can't get out of my mind. It's that part that kept me up at night. Storm, Rogue and Jean followed a group of warriors who attacked a small village.
The village that was attacked looked not unlike the one which had hosted us that very same day. The invaders simply rode in and….and pillaged. As the terrified villagers ran for their lives, the invaders rode in (they had some huge animals that looked like horses, only bigger and very fierce) and burned down houses and hacked people to death. I couldn't watch after a while. I saw babies and old people chopped to pieces. I got to see grown men pleading for their lives (although we couldn't understand the language, it was clear what was happening) and be beaten to death or hacked to pieces anyway.
And the rapes. These invaders must be related to FOH soldiers because they seemed to regard rape as their hobby. Some of them didn't even wait until the battle (if you could call it that; the villagers couldn't put up much resistance) was over and just grabbed the females and started raping them. I really started to wish that Storm would turn the camera away but she didn't. I didn't want to watch the girl, who had to be about 9 or 10, getting raped by the invaders. Jubilee was sitting next to Hank on one of the sofas. She turned her head away from the monitor, and he put an arm around her. I felt my stomach churn, seeing this and thinking that this was what some of my family members had had to endure at the hands of FOH so many months ago.
After the attackers looted the village, they gathered up most of the women villagers, tied them to some of their horse-like animals, and carried them back to their settlement. The women cried and screamed. Lots of severely injured but still alive men, children, and old people were left back at the village to slowly suffer and die, many of them calling out in agony. Houses and tents slowly burned, any valuables they'd held having been taken.
Once the nomads had begun their attacks, we'd gotten pretty quiet. The three women didn't say anything over their communicators either. As the attackers began to head back to their camp, it looked like the three X-men started to follow them.
Cyclops spoke into the communicator, "We have seen enough. Storm, Jean, Rogue-get back here."
"Acknowledged," Storm said, her voice betraying none of the horrors she had just witnessed first-hand. "We're returning to the ship." I had to marvel at her composure. I wondered how she really felt, given that she herself had lived through some of the abhorrences she'd just seen.
I closed my eyes and held my head in my hands. I wish I had never seen what we just viewed. You hear about or read about such violence but there's nothing like watching it first hand. It turns the stomach. Makes you question how human beings can do such things to each other.
After not long, Storm, Rogue and Jean returned to the ship. Although some of the X-men wanted to regroup immediately and plan their next move, a majority wanted a rest break. It was now long past dinner time, though many of the team had lost their appetite. They agreed to regroup in an hour.
The Professor joined the team when they regrouped around the table in sick bay. He made it clear that he still disagreed with their plans for intervention and still would not participate in it. "But I would like to hear what you plan to do from this point forward," he added.
Cyclops and Storm looked at each other. Cyclops marveled at his co-leader's composure given what she had just seen. `I underestimate her,' he thought to himself. `Maybe everyone does.' Year after year, he had seen Storm pushed to her limits in one situation after another, and yet she always emerged stronger. Cyclops's mind flashed back to the time, so many long years ago, when Storm, Gambit and Jubilee had been held prisoner on Genosha Island. As he was later told, Storm had been thrown into solitary confinement in a box-sized cell for hours on end. Storm's claustrophobia nearly rendered her senseless with terror. Yet as soon as she was rescued, she composed herself and fought against the Sentinels. During the battle, she was again pushed to her limits when she used as much of her power as she could muster to summon a crushing storm. She had exhausted herself mentally and physically. Yet after a few hours of rest in the Blackbird on the way back to the Institute, she was restored to her normal self - no, she was even tougher than she had been before.
Cyclops's own insecurities threatened to return-`Is Storm a better leader than I am?' `Does the team prefer her leadership over mine?' `Is she a stronger person than I am?' Cyclops forced himself to relax and remember the words Jean had used over the years to reassure him. `Just trust in yourself and know that you are a great leader. Don't compare yourself.' He mentally replayed her comforting thoughts. She was always so good to him.
Storm addressed the group first. "First I would like to know if anyone has changed their mind. Does anyone -aside from the Professor- " she gave a respectful nod towards her teacher, "believe we should not intervene?"
No one did. If anything, the footage strengthened their resolve. Seeing this, Cyclops then spoke, "I would suggest that our next course of action be to discuss the best means to preventing the invaders from advancing. Without hurting any of them, of course."
"I thought that Wolverine had a brilliant idea, of relocating the invaders to an island," Beast said. "During our break, I did some searching on the computer. There is an island not too far from here." He stood up, so he could use the map he printed as illustration. "It has several species of animals but no humanoids."
Jean spoke, "I like that idea too. I can use my telekinesis to get them there."
Storm spoke, "Jean, I think it would be less taxing if I could summon a great wind to transport them. It doesn't require as much energy from me."
Jean shrugged. "Either way is fine with me. I think you are right about your method being less taxing."
Cyclops said, "My only hesitation with the plan of moving the invaders to an island is that as soon as they learn how to build ships, the other people will no longer be safe."
A few looks were exchanged around the table. Storm said, "Perhaps that is the best we will be able to do. We are responding to the plea for help from these natives, and this will answer that plea for now."
"At least it will give natives some time to prepare," Colossus added. "Maybe they learn to build weapons, learn ways to hide."
"What about moving the invaders to another continent?" Iceman asked. "When we first came to this planet, didn't we learn that at least one of the continents was uninhabited by any humanoids?"
Storm and Cyclops looked at each other. "That's not a bad idea," Cyclops said. Beast drew up the copy of the large map which displayed the entire planet.
Storm said, "It will require some more power from me, to transport them such a great distance. The island Hank spoke about is nearby. This uninhabited landmass is quite a distance. But…it would certainly make life easier for the natives who asked our help. They would be unlikely to encounter the invaders for many more generations to come."
There was silence around the table. People nodded with approval of the plan.
"I have a question." The Professor spoke for the first time at this meeting. "Have you considered what to do with the slaves of the invaders? As we saw, a good number of the women from the attacked villages were taken by the invaders back to their camp as slaves. They could have hundreds -or even thousands- of slaves. What is to be done with them?"
His words echoed in the room. No one spoke for quite some time because no one had any answers. Jubilee mused out loud, saying the unspoken thoughts of many, "It would really suck to just leave them with the people who kidnapped them. And if we move them all to another continent, the slaves will never get back to the villages they were taken from."
Storm took a deep breath. "Of course, as far as we can see, the villages they were taken from have all been destroyed. Assuming the battle we saw today was representative of their usual modus operandi."
"The natives we met with earlier today also said that the invaders completely destroyed the villages," Cyclops said.
"I saw it in the mind of the refugee who escaped," Jean said, her eyes staring off into the distance. "He saw his entire village burned. Just like what we saw today, a few children and old people were left to die." Her thoughts kept wandering and she had to struggle to stay focussed. The horrors of man's inhumanity to man. What a shame that other planets experienced the violence and destruction that took place on earth.
"So the slaves would have nothing to return to," Cyclops said.
"They wouldn't have `nothing'," Wolverine said, grimly. "You could bet they'd be welcomed into the tribes of the people like those we met today."
"That would sure be a better life for them than havin to live out their years with the people who kidnapped them," Rogue said.
"So what do we do?" Iceman asked. "Is there anyway we can….sort out the slaves from the non-slaves before we….transport them?"
"That would take quite a lot of time, if there are thousands of people in the invaders' camps," Cyclops said.
"An' dat would be doin a lot of meddling in their culture," Gambit said. "Much as Gambit hate the idea of them invaders havin' slaves, once we interact with dem an start askin questions, we really interfering with them."
"He's right," Storm said. "With my original idea of using a huge gust of wind to transport them to another continent, they would never know what hit them. It was….clean and simple. If we need to get down there, interact with them to find out who is a slave and who is not…..suddenly it is very messy."
"And there is another potential complication," Beast began. "As the Professor mentioned, we know that the invaders capture the women from the villages they attack and bring them back as slaves. But it is also possible that the invaders have slaves who were born into their own tribes, in addition to the ones they kidnap. Highly warlike cultures such as this one often have numerous layers of social stratification, and frequently have a caste of their own people who are slaves as well. Many cultures in earth history bear this out." He paused. "If we are going to separate out those slaves who are not from their tribes, should we also separate out those who are from their own tribes?"
"And if we do that," Jean began, "would those slaves be welcomed into the villages of those people we met with today? And if they were not welcomed, how would they live? Or would they become warlike and aggressive themselves?"
During this exchange, numerous X-men took brief glances at the Professor. They knew, of course, he would refrain from saying `I told you so.'
The discussions lasted well into the evening. The more the group speculated, the more questions that came up. They realized they would never be able to answer all of these questions. Options were presented, analyzed, debated, and discarded.
By nightfall, a decision was made. Not everyone agreed on it, but by then the 11 weary minds around the table knew that no solution was going to be anywhere near perfect. The X-men decided to go ahead with their original plan of transporting all the invaders to another continent. They decided that they could not do anything to improve the lives of their slaves. At least they would be stepping in to aid the people who had pleaded for help and be preventing anymore villages from being destroyed.
"An imperfect solution for an imperfect world," Beast had summarized. He avoided looking in the Professor's direction. He knew instinctively after all their years together that Charles did not think any less of him for going against his views. Yet Hank still felt regret.
The next morning, the group of 20 natives who served as their village's council waited outside the ship for the X-men. The Professor, Cyclops, Jean, Storm, Beast, and Iceman met them outside the ship. None had slept particularly well the night before and each had risen at the crack of dawn.
"He's telling them that we agreed to help remove the invaders," Jean said to her teammates as the Professor communicated with the natives. "He is telling them a little about our plan….of course he's being as vague as possible on the `how's'. They are astounded that we can do what we say…..They are very grateful though."
Storm spoke to Jean and the Professor. "I am going to need to rest up and gather as much of my strength as possible to do this," she said. "But I should be able to do it today."
The natives were thrilled beyond belief. They said they would return in the evening to check back with the X-men.
Most of the X-men had worked together for a long time. They were used to going on treacherous missions together, battling Apocalypse, Sinister and a host of other dangerous foes. They were also used to things going wrong, unexpected crises occurring, plans needing to be changed at the last minute. Yet this day was a surprise for them.
Storm spent the morning meditating. By lunchtime, she declared that she was ready. She and Rogue flew to the invaders' camp. They had set up base astride a series of hills. Storm and Rogue flew to the highest one and looked down at the tents. As far as they could see, the area swam with tents, animals, and people. There were thousands of the invaders, milling around, practicing their weapon usage, preparing to pillage another settlement.
Storm then stood as straight as she could and drew in a deep breath. She raised her arms to the heavens. "I summon the winds. Heed my call. Lift the invaders and carry them all." She continued her commands, in her stately voice as massive winds appeared. The winds swept up the invaders-everyone in their camps, their tents, animals, and belongings-and began to move them. Storm made a swift gesture with an arm, as if sweeping them away. Before Rogue could blink, they were gone.
Cyclops's voice was heard over the communicator. They were using the ship's sensors to monitor the situation. "So far so good," Cyclops said, looking at his monitor. The ship's sensors indicated that the gust of wind-and everything enveloped inside of it-was now progressing rapidly over the sea.
"Keep it up, Storm," Rogue encouraged. Storm's eyes were closed, arms still raised. She knew her instincts would tell her when her work was done. They were always right.
"They're over the uninhabited continent now," Cyclops spoke into the communicator.
"Now, Storm!" Rogue said.
Storm lowered her arms abruptly and opened her eyes. She inhaled again. "It is done." The maneuver had drained her of strength. Rogue caught her just before she fell over.
Cyclops's voice sounded, "Mission accomplished, Storm. Nice work."
"Alright!" Rogue said. "We're returning to the ship," she said, taking off with her teammate in her arms.
I sat staring at the computer's monitor, pleased with the day's events. Storm did it! Our sensors showed no more invaders in this area. Those that she transported all made it safely across the ocean to their new home.
I think that compared to a lot of my fellow X-men, I was fairly pleased with how things turned out. The previous night, a lot of us had gone to bed frustrated. But I knew that there are no perfect solutions in life, and this one seemed pretty good to me. The invaders were gone. We'd responded to the plea from the natives who needed us, and they would be safe for generations to come. Things turned out about as well as could be expected.
The natives returned to us later that day. They were ecstatically happy, Jean told us, at the news that the threat was no more. "They would like to have a celebration for us, to thank us for what we did."
All eyes turned to the Professor. I really expected him to say that he had interfered far too much already, but instead he said, "We might as well finish what we started. I will tell them that we will join them for their celebration. However, Storm is still resting and I do not think she will be ready today. I will let them know that we will celebrate with them tomorrow, if they can be ready then."
The natives told us that they would return midday tomorrow, to escort us back to their village for the party.
The Professor looked up from his papers when he heard the knock at his door. He had been reading in his room, having printed off pages of books he wanted to read. He, as many of his pupils, missed the feel of a good book in his hands and the computer print-outs were sorry substitutes. The Professor had once ventured into the ship's small library and had not been surprised to discover that none of the books or magazines there interested him remotely.
"Come in, Scott," the Professor said, answering the knock.
The door slid aside and Cyclops entered. The Professor, of course, had the ability to read the minds and sense the feelings of everyone on board the ship, though he chose not to. He never liked to enter people's minds without their consent. Besides, communicating with the natives had been draining. He did not, however, need his powers to sense the mood Scott was in or what he wanted to discuss.
"Good evening, Professor," Scott said.
"Hello, Scott."
"I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"Not at all," he said, smiling. "You know you are never a disturbance to me." He gestured for Scott to sit down.
"What are you reading? Not anything about engineering, I hope," Scott said with a laugh, settling into the chair in the corner of the room.
"No, not at all. That is the last thing I would chose to peruse in my spare time." He grasped the papers. "These are some print outs from Hank. They're about the topic of babies and children. I believe you have read this already, but please take a look. You're certainly welcome to it."
Scott glanced at the article. "Oh, yes. Hank printed this for Jean and I a while ago."
"I'm interested in the topic as well. I cannot believe that I am to become a grandfather again, and in two weeks' time, no less. I am very excited."
"Me too, Professor. I'm a little nervous too, but Jean tells me that I'll be a great Dad."
"I am sure you will be. Don't doubt yourself, Scott."
"Well, I have a wonderful role model," Scott said.
Scott looked at the Professor with respect. The Professor flashed back briefly to the way he had felt at dinner a few days ago. Sitting around the table, someone had asked Jean and Scott what names they were thinking of for their baby. Scott and Jean had looked at each other before answering. "Well," Jean had said, "we really liked Jubilee's idea of paying tribute to someone through her baby's name. And we want to honor the man who has been our teacher, leader, role model and source of wisdom for so many years. So the baby will be named after the Professor. Charles will be his name, if a boy. If a girl, we will name her Charlotte, which is the feminine form of the name." Jean hadn't needed her powers to feel the Professor's pride and overwhelming love for the couple. The Professor had not been surprised at the tribute, but he had been very, very touched.
After a pause, Scott continued, "But I wanted to talk to you tonight about what happened today. And yesterday." Scott took a breath. "In your opinion, we made a mistake," he stated.
The Professor nodded, "The team made a decision that I do not agree with. Although I cannot say I am happy about it, I do not doubt that everyone did what he felt was right. You know that, Scott," he said gently. The Professor had said these words before, more or less, to the team during the past 48 hours. "Is that what you came here to discuss?"
Scott's eyes looked down. "I hope you are not….disappointed with me."
"Not at all, Scott." The Professor moved his wheelchair closer to where Scott sat, close enough that he could touch his arm. "You and Storm are both wonderful leaders. I am not disappointed in you or any of the others."
"But I now feel that…..you might have been right, and what we did may have been a mistake."
"It might have been," the Professor acknowledged. "In all likelihood, we will never know. What is important is that we examine our decisions, reflect on them, and learn what we can."
Scott nodding, absorbing his words. "Professor, should we rethink celebrating with them tomorrow?"
"I don't think so. However, I am going to set some guidelines with the team before we go to the celebration. I think we should be clear with the natives that this will be our last interaction with them, and we are doing this only to bring closure."
Scott nodded. "That makes sense to me."
"We will need to hold fast to this, as well. And I think that once we redouble our efforts on engine repair, we can be off this planet in just a few months."
Scott left the Professor's room feeling much better.
As he had planned to, the next day the Professor established some guidelines for the group during lunch. They liked his idea of this final interaction with the natives bringing closure.
He also had an order for the team. He did not look forward to verbalizing this mandate, but it needed to be done. "As you know, the members of this culture have a very positive attitude towards sex. They invited us before to sleep with them. I must insist," he said this firmly, "that we deny that request, if they ask again. The last thing we want to do is mingle our genes with theirs. If mutations develop in their society, we will have seriously altered their natural evolution." He paused, "I dislike the idea of telling any of you what to do in your personal lives, but I insist with regards to this."
Cyclops nodded. "That makes sense to me."
`Yeah, easy for you to say,' Wolverine thought to Cyclops. Wolverine had gone for far too long without sex. It had been well over a year now, and the forced celibacy had been grating on him for a long time. If any of the native women had propositioned him, he would have gone off with her in a heartbeat. Now he could not. What's worse is that this was to be their last encounter with the natives. So no more chances of encountering any other females until…..God knows when. Maybe never, at the rate they were going.
Wolverine briefly toyed with the idea of disobeying the Professor. He was extremely frustrated. He had been ready and willing to do battle with the invaders, but that instinct had been crushed. Spending most of his days cooped up in the ship wasn't helping either. Nor was seeing the woman he loved pregnant with another man's child. And now this. He fought his instinct to pound his fist through a wall or destroy something with his claws.
Fighting this instinct was growing harder with every passing day.
The natives came for us soon after lunch, and we followed them to their village. Except for Wolverine. He said he wanted to stay behind and keep an eye on the ship. The Professor had said before that he would not force anyone to keep guard over the ship and wanted to let everyone enjoy the celebration, but Wolverine insisted that the ship could not be left alone. "I don't want to join the party either," he had grumbled. He really was in a pissed off mood, I could tell. I strongly suspected that the no-sex mandate had something to do with it too, but I knew Wolverine well enough to know that was not the only thing bothering him either.
So the 11 of us (including Aurora, who had been placed in the baby carrier given to us by the natives) set off for the village.
The party was awesome! I had such a blast. The music was so good, I got up to dance! Jubilee scrambled up to join me, leaving Rory in Cyclops's arms. She and I danced away unabashedly, with groups of natives. After not long, Storm, Gambit, Rogue and even Colossus joined us. We had such a great time! I think Jubilee and I danced for hours.
I'm a good dancer too, by the way. I noticed so were Gambit and Storm. Jubilee and Rogue danced well enough to get by, and Colossus was an awkward dancer, but we were all having fun so that's what matters. I tried my best to get the others to dance, but they steadfastly refused. Hank was too absorbed in learning as much as he could about the people, with Jean and the Professor translating. Cyke said he didn't dance (big surprise.) Jean said she enjoyed dancing but just was too far along now and too busy translating.
The food was great too. They presented us with many different types of meat and fish dishes, as well as with a variety of vegetables, and a beans and rice dish. Sweets, however, did not seem to be in their food-vocabulary so the only desserts we had were dried fruits. It was all delicious though. When I wasn't dancing, I was eating. I drank only water, though, as all their alcohol was way too bitter for my tastes. Colossus was the only one of us who could drink it. They presented him with many flasks of the drink as a gift.
Speaking of gifts, they lavished us with more baby toys and baskets full of food. Such wonderful people. The children all clustered around "Goluba" too, delighted to see their old friend. Hank was so gentle and warm with the kids. What a great Dad he would have made, I mused. Ah well. He had Aurora, and he was a loving Uncle to her.
And oh yes, they invited us to make love with them. I wished I knew what their attitude towards homosexuality was. I mean, the Professor said not to share our genes with them, but if I were to go off with another man, there was no risk of me leaving my mutated genes behind. However, I was too embarrassed to ask Jean or the Professor to broach this topic with the natives. I couldn't do it. A few female natives approached me in such a way that no translation was necessary, but no males did. And I sure wasn't about to approach them. Basically I think it's been so long now that I just should be re-instated as a virgin.
After hours of dancing and eating too much, I was exhausted. The sun had set and the village was illuminated with numerous torches and lanterns. The party showed no signs of slowing down, though. I spied Hank sitting around the campfire with the Professor and several natives.
I then went up to Hank. He acknowledged me with a smile, but I knew he was still absorbing as much as he could about the culture these people lived in. I didn't want to interrupt him. Instead I snuggled next to him, resting my head on his shoulder. He put an arm around me. My head eventually wound up in his lap. I knew he wouldn't mind. His big, furry body was so cozy and I nestled against the warmth and comfort of his soft fur. I loved it. When I woke up, he was carrying me back to the ship.
The 11 X-men walked back to their ship, guided by several natives. Jubilee, Iceman and Aurora were all sound asleep. Rogue carried Jubilee, Beast carried Iceman and Cyclops held the baby. Lanterns held by the natives illuminated their way through the forest. If it were not for their guides, getting lost in the forest was a very real possibility. Of course, Storm and Rogue could have flown ahead, but they did not want to flaunt their powers.
Storm carried several baskets full of gifts given to them by the natives. She replayed the events of the last few days, as she followed the man in front of her. `It is done now,' she told herself. `We cannot undo it.' Understanding that, Storm still mulled over the team's decision. She had her doubts, though she was mostly sure they had done the right thing. Witnessing the horrors of the invaders' attack on the defenseless village and their slaughter of the people had been appalling. She saw with her own eyes one of the invaders raping the girl from the village they attacked. She hadn't expected it to affect her so much, but for many terrifying moments she had been taken back to the terrible assaults she had endured. The screams made by the girl were the screams Storm had muffled. The agony on the girl's face was the agony Storm had shunted to the recesses of her mind.
It had reminded her that she was not as invincible-emotionally, or otherwise-as she liked to think (and liked for others to think.)
But something else was bothering Storm. She had not been thrilled with the Professor's order to avoid sex with the natives. She had been looking forward to the possibility of coupling with one (or several) of them. She had known from their previous encounters that the people were very pro-sex and it was likely they would offer again. Well, they had but this time she'd been under orders not to indulge. `Of course, I really could have,' she told herself. The no-sex rule had been for the purpose of not leaving any natives impregnated with mutant children. Storm sure didn't have to worry about doing that. Still, she had not wanted to disobey a direct order from the Professor.
Now Storm was regretting it. Who knew when her next chance to encounter anyone aside from her fellow X-men would be? It could be years. Storm was a woman who enjoyed lovemaking very much. It simply had been far too long.
For the past several months, Storm had been toying with an idea. If she were to follow through on it, it could have disastrous consequences. But the consequences also could be wonderful. She didn't know, and Storm hated this uncertainty. However, with every passing week, she was coming closer to deciding upon just taking the risk and going for it.
Jean walked aside Scott. She was weary and wanted to hold his hand, but he was cradling Aurora in his arms. She was pleased to see how well he handled the baby over the last few months. She had no doubts that Scott would make a good father when their own baby arrived.
Jean felt sadness that this would be the group's last interaction with the natives. They had asked her to have her baby with them "so we can celebrate the sacrament of childbirth together." She asked them many questions about their birthing ceremonies and rituals, and had been quite taken in by it. Part of her had been very attracted to the thought of giving birth there. Yet she also was comforted by thoughts of the sterile, white infirmary.
None of the X-men knew it, but Wolverine had created huge gashes in his bedroom wall that evening.
TO BE CONTINUED