Chapter 14
So we headed away from Endaria, with the blessing of the Queen. She told us to return anytime, and I dearly hoped we'd return soon.
I gotta say that none of us really thought the news we'd encounter back on earth would be good. Storm kept trying to remind us to stay positive, but thoughts of Mutant Containment Centers haunted my every dream.
The Professor was able to stay in psychic contact with Jean (just by using their powers; without using Cerebro) for about a week or so into our journey. Everything was normal and fine back on An'zhina, he'd report to us. But after not too long, the distance was too great and too many lightyears separated us for the Professor and Jean to be able to mentally "hook up."
Aurora and Charlotte had been our main source of entertainment for quite some time. But without them, and given the situation we were potentially heading into, most of our days were spent in the Danger Room. We trained constantly, five or six hours a day which was far more than we had for a long, long time. We X-men fought together as a team during countless simulated battles. Even though it was exhausting, I felt myself growing stronger and stronger as my reflexes in battle were honed. Both Storm and Wolverine complimented me, saying I had made a big improvement. I practically glowed with pride at their praise.
And when we weren't in the Danger Room, we were on the bridge or in engineering, fighting simulated battles against other simulated starships. Storm was insistent that we spend the bulk of our days working on such preparations. Our vacation days clearly were over.
Not that I totally minded. It felt good to get back on a more structured schedule, and we all needed things to keep our minds away from what we might encounter back on earth. It was also a good way for me to keep from missing Jubilee and Aurora (as well as Scott and Jean, and their baby. I was close to all of them, though closer to Jubilee and Aurora.)
The Professor spent several hours a day with Cerebro II, and for the longest time, he had little or no information to report back. I could tell that using this version of Cerebro was very mentally taxing for him. He often needed to rest a day or two in between bouts with it, and obviously he was fighting frustration with the limitations of this Cerebro. He told us that he badly wanted to contact Moira MacTaggert and check in with her, and his inability to do so was aggravating. He once likened using this Cerebro to fishing in a very large pond with a miniscule amount of fish-your chances of success were slim at best.
I was just glad for the information he had reported back on Northstar and the other members of Alpha Flight. I was so glad that they were alive. The fact that they made it gave me hope. And I can't say that I knew Nightcrawler well personally, but the thought that he was still alive bolstered all our spirits.
We were perhaps three weeks away from earth when we sat down to dinner one evening, and the first thing the Professor told us was that he'd made contact with another X-man. Our attention riveted to him, he spoke. "I spent hours with Cerebro II this afternoon. This time I was able to connect with one of our own." He paused, and it looked as if he were gathering his thoughts or searching for the right words. "Psylocke. I was able to get inside her mind for a bit."
"Did she communicate with you?" Storm asked eagerly. "Did you have an exchange as you did with Shaman?"
"No," the Professor said. "Our hook up was one-way."
"Isn't she a telepath?" I asked. "I would think it would be easier to have a two-way communication with a fellow telepath."
"She is. And normally, it would be," he said, slowly. "Psylocke's mental condition is not good right now. I am frustrated now because I was unable to get any level of detail about her life or why specifically she was in….such a state. But from Psylocke, I was able to receive only two very concrete….messages." He paused. "One was that she is in misery right now."
His last sentence rang in our ears. I gulped as I looked at my teammates. I then glanced down at my dinner but my appetite was suddenly gone.
"The other," the Professor said, "was a plea for help."
Everyone's eyes reflected the fear and concern that I felt.
The Professor flashed a brief smile. "I am sorry if this sounds melodramatic. And I wish that I had better news to report." He shook his head. "That feeling of misery has remained with me since then. It greatly disturbs me that one of my pupils is in such a state."
"Especially one such as Psylocke," Storm added. "Mentally, she was very strong. It is difficult to hear right now that she is in misery and crying out for help."
Needless to say, our dinner conversation didn't exactly flow from that point onwards. We all looked down at our plates and ate in silence. As I moved my food around the plate, I was wrapped up in my thoughts and knew I'd be asking Hank if he wanted to be brushed that evening.
"Dat feels good, chere," Gambit murmured as Rogue massaged his back, straddling him on the bed. "Mmmmm, I feel dat tension jus evaporatin away."
"I'm glad you do, sugar," Rogue said quietly. Gambit had given her a massage moments ago, but she still felt anxious. Like many of the other X-men, her dinner that evening remained mostly uneaten.
"How `bout a kiss now?" Gambit asked, raising his eyebrows and rolling onto his back when the massage was over.
"Okay, but I'm not in the mood to….you know," Rogue said, her eyes looking downwards.
"You, not in the mood? Let de history books make a note of dis moment!" Gambit saw that his attempt at levity was not working. He sat up and hugged Rogue. As always now, whenever the two were alone, she wore her collar.
"Remy, I just feel sick," Rogue said, resting her head on his strong shoulder. "And I feel so scared. It's gotta be the Friends of Humanity. What else could be wrong with Psylocke that she's in misery and pleading for help?"
"Come now, chere," Gambit said, soothingly as he stroked her wavy hair. "We jus don't know what is really going on. For all we know, she's sad cause of a death in her family or something." Even as he spoke the words, Gambit failed to convince himself, let alone Rogue. He tried a different approach. "Chere, just take a deep breath. We know dere's nothing we can do until we get closer to earth and find out more. We can't do anything now."
Rogue nodded. "I know, Remy. But all these thoughts keep goin through my head and it just kills me. And I never felt such * fear* before. I was never afraid of going into battle against the Sentinels or Magneto or even Apocalypse. I didn't really think about it and it didn't bother me at all. But the thought of the FOH and these….Containment Centers. It turns my stomach."
"Is only natural we feel dat way, Rogue. FOH hurt us more den anyone. Dey demoralized us, dey got under our skin."
"They raped me. That was the most awful thing I ever lived through. Now who knows what they're doing."
"Dat was the most awful thing dat Gambit live through, too. Jus the thought all that time of what they were doing to you. It make me so angry and so scared for you." He paused and stroked her face. "But whatever is goin on back on earth, we will survive it, chere. We love each other and we're together."
"I know that, Remy and I thank my lucky stars every day that you're alright and we're together." She sighed and looked down. "But it ain't us that I'm worried about. It's them. It's every mutant back on earth."
The couple went to bed, wrapped in each other's arms. Rogue did eventually manage to fall asleep, though her dreams were not pleasant ones.
After more time passed, we were close enough to earth to be able to pick up the news. After an entire morning spent working in the Danger Room, we gathered around the viewscreen on the bridge as the Professor pulled up the news.
When I was younger, it used to be that several different networks aired news programs. As the years went by, the number of different stations gradually dwindled as they all were bought out one by one. At the time we left earth, there was only one news channel, run by the mega-corporation GenCore. And we all knew that FOH contributed heavily to GenCore. So when the Professor fiddled with the computer to call up the news, GenCoreNEWS was what we expected to see.
And we were not surprised. As soon as the news screen came to life, we watched in silence, waiting for news of our home planet. The usual comely news reporters of GenCoreNEWS came on to our screen. And although we were not surprised that GenCoreNEWS was still the only mainstream source of news, there *was* something that surprised us. At the time we left earth, mutants were in the news constantly. All the time. Even when I lived away from the X-men and was trying my best to forget that I was a mutant, I could not avoid seeing and hearing about mutants every time I picked up a paper or watched the news.
We stood around watching five hours before any mention was made of mutants. Our surprise gradually turned to boredom. Finally, after five hours just a brief mention was made of two mutants in Italy "going on a rampage." Very few details were provided in this report and no images were shown. The attractive young reporter simply mentioned that two mutants "rioted" in Italy, causing damage to public property and injuring three bystanders. She added that they were arrested and taken in for questioning.
After that brief report, hours passed again with no mention of mutants. I can also say that basically nothing shocking or surprising seemed to have happened on earth during the year and half of our absence…..at least nothing that GenCoreNEWS was going to report on. As we all talked about numerous times during the bland news reports, we knew GenCoreNEWS was not exactly giving us (or anyone) the full story. Eventually, we agreed to take turns monitoring the news so we could resume training that day.
We left the news on during dinner. As I was passing the string beans to Hank, Wolverine's ears perked up and he turned towards the monitor. We quickly silenced our conversations.
"And coming up at ten," a reporter's voice said, "on Head-to-Head, we will debate the Mutant Containment Centers. Friends of Humanity spokeswoman Jennifer White will face off against Dr. Veena Qadir, an expert on mutants. Tonight at 10!"
As GenCoreNEWS cut to another commercial, The Professor spoke. "Dr. Veena Qadir. I know that name. She's a young doctor, not a mutant but one with an interest in us. She spent a few months with Moira MacTaggert several years ago to assist her with research. Moira thought very highly of her and said she's sympathetic towards mutants."
Rogue's face was pale, her mouth hung open. "Did you hear what the guy said though? 'Mutant Containment Centers.' They do exist." The despair in her voice was clear. Gambit put an arm around her.
I put my head in my hands and tried to take some deep breaths. When I raised my head back up, I saw that my teammates appeared as dejected as I was.
The Professor tried to soothe us. "Remember, we do not know exactly what these Containment Centers are. Let us try to not let our imaginations run wild. We do not have all the facts at our disposal." He sounded almost as if trying to convince himself though.
"I wonder what the nature of this debate will be," Storm said, sounding as calm as ever. "We know that GenCore receives financial backing from the Friends of Humanity, or at least it did when we left."
"And we knew the news is damn one-sided. All we're seeing is what the corporate suits at GenCore want us to see," Wolverine added.
Hank added, "One wonders about the accuracy of the information we will see during tonight's debate."
The hours passed slowly as we waited for the GenCoreNEWS debate to begin. No one was into our card game that evening. The station periodically showed brief promos for the debate. I gotta say during the last year and a half I have learned so many card games and played all of them ad nauseum. I jokingly hoped we'd get to pick up a few board games on earth.
At long last, the debate began. I was surprised that FOH's spokesperson was a woman since you never saw any women among their ranks. Jennifer White was young and attractive, and clad in an FOH uniform, except she wore a skirt instead of pants. Dr. Qadir also was young and clad in a conservative navy blue suit.
The debate began with each "side" being allowed to present some background information about the issue at hand. Jennifer White went up first. I'll try to remember everything that was said. Basically, she talked about FOH having millions of members in the US alone, and that it was founded to protect humanity "from the violent and aggressive" mutants. She went on to say that FOH had set up Mutant Containment Centers "to protect American citizens from these dangerous mutants." She said that all mutants-registered and unregistered-were being "moved" into these centers "for their own protection and for ours." She said that three centers were established in the US, one in Canada, four in Europe, and FOH chapters in Asia would be opening numerous centers "within 16 months."
I felt the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't surprised. None of us were. That didn't make watching this any easier. Wolverine growled as Jennifer spoke. When she finished, he stood up and gauged a big hole in the wall.
"Wolverine!" Storm reprimanded him.
"I've seen it before! Concentration camps, emaciated bodies, genocide!" He looked as if he was going to get out of control in a second or two.
"Would you tone it down so we can hear dis?" Gambit asked, clearly pissed off. Dr. Qadir was starting to speak and we were missing it.
"Shut up, Cajun," Wolverine said, taking a menacing step towards Gambit. Wolverine's claws were still extended.
"Stop it, both of you!" the Professor said, his voice stern and clearly nearing anger.
Wolverine looked as if he were about to attack Gambit. Rogue, the strongest one of all of us, moved as if to defend her lover. Storm and the Professor both gave Wolverine unmistakable looks. "Gambit is not the target of your anger," the Professor said firmly.
Wolverine growled and stormed out of the room. Storm hesitated, as if she were deciding whether or not to follow, but then she just turned her attention back towards the monitor. We all did, since we'd already missed part of what Dr. Veena Qadir said.
Back to the debate, Veena was saying that it was unfair to imprison mutants who have committed no crime. "We forget sometimes that mutants are human beings," we heard her say. "Those mutants who misuse their powers and break the law should be appropriately punished. But every mutant in the country is being rounded up, taken from their families, and forced to live in these….Containment Centers. That is un-American, illegal and immoral." Dr. Qadir spoke in a calm and straightforward manner, without passion or anger in her voice.
"Dr Qadir," the FOH spokeswoman began, "since we've set up the Mutant Containment Centers, violent crimes against humans have dropped by over 35%. These are violent crimes committed by mutants against innocent American citizens and they must be stopped. Redirecting mutants into Containment Centers is the most efficient way to do this, and most law-abiding American citizens agree."
I was so angry and so upset at that point that I just don't remember everything that was said. I know that Veena somehow got back to the point about it being un-American to take innocent people from their homes and imprison them. Jennifer began her rebuttal, "The mutants are not being imprisoned. The Mutant Containment Centers are more similar to college dormitories, not prisons. Our Friends of Humanity soldiers run the Centers and they ensure that the mutants are treated with respect and care. The mutants living there have very easy and simple lives in very good conditions."
"Ms. White-" Veena began.
"*Mrs* White," Jennifer cut her off.
"Mrs. White, I cannot confirm or deny what you say about the living conditions in the Containment Centers, because the Friends of Humanity has not allowed any independent investigators to inspect them," Veena said. "The Friends of Humanity founded these centers and they run them. They have not allowed any other organization to so much as visit the centers. We have only the word of FOH to go on when they say that mutants are not being mistreated at these centers."
At one point, Jennifer allowed photographs from the Containment Centers to be shown in front of the camera. We all leaned forward in our seats to get a better look. Butterflies were dancing in my stomach as we looked at a photograph of about 7 mutants sitting around a table eating pizza. It was hard to read their expressions but they looked happy enough. The mutants all had collars around their necks and none of us recognized any of them. "Here is a picture from last Friday's pizza party at our Center in Canada," Mrs. White said, a broad smile on her face. "We frequently have pizza parties and movie nights for the mutants' entertainment!"
"Well, pictures are nice," Dr. Qadir began, "but for all we know, these mutants were forced at gun point to pose like this. Mrs. White, why will FOH not allow any independent investigators to inspect the Containment Centers?"
The FOH spokeswoman completely brushed off the question and just went on to repeat how crime had dropped since these centers were established and to talk about the fun things "the mutants" experienced in these centers.
"I can't take any more!" Rogue exclaimed at one point during the debate, throwing her plate in the direction of the screen. She got up and left. Gambit followed her. I strongly suspected the Danger Room was being put to use that evening and I longed for the blissful days we spent on vacation on the Paradise planet.
One thing I gotta say: given that FOH was presumably still supporting GenCore, the debate was, not as totally one-sided as one might think it would be. Dr Qadir was allowed to make her points, and she debated well. As I said before, she didn't display a lot of emotion or passion around the topic, but that could be a good thing too in a debate, since excessive emotion usually doesn't come across well. The Professor, Storm, Hank, Colossus and I sat around afterwards to discuss the debate and I think we were grasping at straws at first, trying to look for positives.
"But the fact of the matter is," Storm began, "we now know that FOH is rounding up and imprisoning mutants. The very thought churns my stomach."
"Is it another Holocaust?" the Professor asked softly, shaking his head.
We had no answers, and I had only the sick feeling of naked fear in my stomach.
Later that evening, Storm knocked on the door to Wolverine's room. "Come in, Storm," he said, the tone of his voice leaving no doubt about his mood.
When Storm entered the room, he did not look up. Before she could speak, he said, "No, I don't wanna talk about to-" Wolverine stopped short when he saw Storm.
Storm was wearing an outfit that she'd replicated a few weeks ago, after having received an ok from the Professor to use some dilithium. It was an elegant midnight blue robe, underneath which she wore a matching negligee. It was not a revealing ensemble, but it was elegant and classy-befitting a queen. Wolverine had seen it before, but just looking at Storm so attired, with her white hair standing out against the deep color of her robe, lifted his mood considerably. He inhaled deeply, drinking in her scent which was giving off unmistakable signals.
"I did not come here to ask you to talk, Logan," Storm said simply.
Wolverine smiled. He never had to second-guess with Storm. She would not have made this offer if she did not want to. He knew she also wanted to do something that would make them both feel good, help take their minds off the pain, if only for a while. He stepped towards her and embraced his lover.
"Now remember, Logan, don't tear this one," Storm said gently, smiling. "I like this negligee and I do not want to have to re-replicate it again."
The Professor had been trying non-stop to establish contact with Moira MacTaggert ever since Cerebro II was created. A very patient man, Charles's patience was being pushed to its limits. Back when he lived on earth, Moira had been the person he was closest to outside of the X-men. Even taking the X-men into account, Charles and Moira had a special bond with each other. He had known her for decades, and they had even been engaged to be married for a while.
First thing on the morning following the debate over Mutant Containment Centers, Charles returned to the Cerebro room again, attempting to learn whatever he could-but especially attempting to reach Moira. As usually the case with Cerebro II, the Professor was disappointed when he was unable to contact her.
But if he could have seen into Moira's life at that time, he would have learned that her patience was also being pushed to the limit.
Moira sat with her cup of tea, looking out the window as the rain as poured down. She felt a chill in her small, Scotland apartment. Heating bills were so expensive lately. She got up and found herself another sweater. As she walked back to the tiny kitchen, she passed the window overlooking the front of the apartment complex. No luck. The mail truck was not there yet. Moira sighed and glanced at her watch. She had several hours to go before the next mail delivery.
Letters were few and far between, but they were now her only contact with her husband and step-daughter. Her day revolved around mail delivery, and the postal workers all knew her by name.
Moira's research facility on Muir Island had long been closed; the government decided to no longer support research on mutants. That is, any research not being conducted by the Friends of Humanity. Moira, her husband Sean Cassidy (who used the code name Banshee when he worked with the X-men in the past), her eighteen year old son from a previous marriage Kevin (who often used the code name Proteus), and nineteen year old step-daughter Siryn had been forced to sell their spacious house and relocate to an apartment until Moira and Sean could find work again. No one wanted to hire a "mutant lover", and Sean, a mutant himself, had an even lesser chance of finding employment. They made ends meet mostly due to Moira's inheritance from her parents, though she and Sean still needed to dip into their retirement savings too. The small apartment had been cramped for space, Siryn and Proteus indignant at being forced to share a tiny bedroom. The four members of the family barely fit inside the kitchen all at the same time and were constantly colliding with each other whenever they attempted to maneuver around it.
The cramped feeling was gone now because Moira was all alone. They had come for them four months ago. The Friends of Humanity knocked on the door one evening, and requested that Sean, Proteus and Siryn, as registered mutants, come to the station at once for questioning. Before they could resist, collars were placed around their necks and they were dragged away as Moira watched in terror.
The ensuing weeks were a blur. The day following the arrest of her family, Moira spent all day on the phone-to the local FOH chapter, the police, the media, and the government. Moira meticulously logged all of her telephone calls, and she placed 67 of them that day. The media was completely disinterested. The police and government assured her that what FOH was doing was completely legal. "You're saying your husband, your son and your step-daughter are all mutants?" one police officer asked her. "That's disgusting! What kind of a mutie-lover are you? We should come down there and arrest you, too!"
Moira almost wished they had. Since her family had been taken away, she had not been permitted to visit them at the Containment Center. Her only contact with them was through the mail.
The mail finally arrived that day. Her hands trembling, Moira sorted through the envelopes as she made her way back to her apartment from the lobby where the mailboxes were kept. As was the case nearly every day, Moira felt a combination of disappointment and relief when she looked at the usual bills, catalogs, and junk mail. There was no letter from Sean or Siryn. And thank God, there was no letter from FOH like the one she had received five weeks ago-the cold, emotionless writing against the white FOH stationary informing her that her son had regrettably been killed "during an outbreak of mutant-on-mutant violence" at the Containment Center.
After receiving that horrible letter, Moira had pounded down the doors of the local FOH chapter, the police, the media and the government demanding an investigation, demanding some answers. They told her nothing. FOH would not provide any more information other than what had been in the letter, and the letter never even came close to describing what exactly happened. Moira was not allowed to recover the body or even see the remains of her only child. According to FOH, Proteus and several other mutants had gotten into a violent fight, and Proteus was killed during it. "Mutants, as we all know, are extremely violent and it is not always possible to control outbreaks such as this," the FOH letter had read. The last sentence of the letter was, "We are sorry for your loss."
Moira hadn't received a letter from Sean now for nearly four weeks. This frightened her. Would he be next? Was it already too late?
Siryn's last letter had arrived two weeks ago, however, Moira was certain that the letter was not written by Siryn. She was certain that none of the letters "Siryn" had sent were actually written by Siryn. Comparing the handwriting in the letters against the handwriting in her step-daughter's diary, Moira's keen eye detected that someone fairly skilled at forging handwriting was penning Siryn's letters. Even if it weren't for the handwriting being slightly off, Moira knew from the tone and style that Siryn was not writing these letters.
'Maybe they are all dead,' Moira thought. It was quite possible that everyone on the planet that she loved was gone, having perished in the Mutant Containment Centers. Well, everyone she loved except for one man. 'Charles, where are you?'
Back on An'zhina, the days were carefree and leisurely. Most of Jubilee, Scott and Jean's time was spent raising their children. Charlotte was now able to roll over, sit up, and make some attempts at crawling. Jean and Scott had filled two photo albums given to them by Queen Marina with photos of their daughter, and a third photo album was about half-way full.
One day, Jubilee was outside enjoying the balmy weather as she practiced karate moves. Aurora watched from her stroller. Scott and Jean were in their quarters.
"Did you hear that?" Scott asked, calling excitedly to Jean from the bathroom. He was bathing Charlotte in a small basin on the counter. The living quarters on An'zhina were larger and more spacious than those on board the starship.
"Hear what, Slim?" Jean asked, turning her head towards the bathroom.
"She said `Da'!" Scott exclaimed. His heart swelled with happiness. Charlotte had already been saying "Ma" and "Mama" for several days now.
"Oh, honey, that's wonderful!" Jean exclaimed, as she entered the bathroom and put an arm around her husband. She bent to give Charlotte a kiss. "You're such a smart little girl," Jean said lovingly, to her daughter.
"She is. It's early for her to be talking already," Scott said. "She's also sitting up and trying to crawl earlier than all those articles said is normal."
"I sense she is going to be a great telepath," Jean said, looking down at Charlotte's bright eyes. Charlotte looked up at her adoring parents.
"And she'll be beautiful like her mother," Scott said, smiling. Jean gave him a quick kiss on the mouth.
/I can get used to this/ Jean thought to herself. As with many stray thoughts between the couple, occasionally one would send a thought to the other without really intending to.
/Me too/ Scott thought.
/ We have unlimited time together on this beautiful moon. We get to spend as much time as we want talking together or playing with the baby. No rush, no living day in and day out in fear like back on earth./
/I almost feel guilty for enjoying this so much/ Scott thought. /It's hard to get used to, given how we've lived our lives the past 15 years. But I love this so much. I love being a Dad./
/I find myself becoming more and more used to it as each day goes by. And if it weren't for missing all the others, everything would be perfect./ Jean thought. She didn't need her mental hook-up with Scott or the ability to read Jubilee's mind to know that the three X-men living on An'zhina greatly missed their teammates.
/I know. Not a day goes by that I don't think and wonder about the Professor and the others/
Just a day or two after we watched the debate on GenCoreNEWS, the eight of us assembled on the bridge. "We are getting very close to earth now," Storm said, sitting in the captain's chair. "We need to consider taking additional precautions, even though we are cloaked."
With Storm having said that, we then got to work on setting up a schedule so that someone would be on the bridge at all times. We could not risk being taken by surprise.
Next, we discussed our plans for what to do next, as we continued to move nearer and nearer to earth. "The purpose of our mission is to gather information," the Professor said. "We need to consider the best way to do that."
"We know that any the news reported on GenCoreNEWS is likely to be skewed," Hank said. "Would that we had some source for receiving accurate information!"
"I wish that Cerebro II were more like its predecessor," the Professor said. "I will continue to use it every day. Perhaps since we are closer to earth, I will be better able to establish a link with someone on earth."
"That is probably our best chance at receiving accurate information," Storm said.
"What about tapping into the FOH computers," Wolverine said. He turned and looked at me. "Bobby's always been an expert with computers. You could start looking and see what you turn up."
"I wonder if we need to be cautious with this, though," Storm commented. "Could they detect that they are being tapped into and by whom?"
"It is possible," I said. "I'll be extremely careful that I don't do anything to give us away."
Storm nodded at me. "We trust your judgement regarding acceptable risks. Do the best that you can."
So that was basically it. The Professor went to the Cerebro room to give it another go. I worked away at the computer on the bridge.
By dinnertime that evening, I had been working on the computer all day but had not discovered anything shocking. I had successfully tapped into the computers of the central law enforcement agency and confirmed what we all already knew-the 11 of us X-men were wanted dead or alive. FOH still controlled the police, and rewards for our capture were offered. "They are armed and extremely dangerous", the file read. I had to chuckle as I saw the picture of the Professor and looked at the image of the bald man in his fifties. "Extremely dangerous." Right.
It was kinda creepy looking through the files. Our full names, approximate ages, and pictures were all on display. Professor Charles Xavier, Scott Summers, Ororo Munroe, Logan – "Wolverine" [full name unknown], Dr. Henry McCoy, Jean Grey, Remy LeBeau, Piotr [Peter] Nikolaievitch Rasputin, "Rogue" [real name unknown], Jubilation Lee, Robert Drake. Each of us had several pages listing everything they knew about us. They knew quite a bit. Under my entry, they had listed the names and locations of my parents, my two older brothers, and the names and ages of several nieces and nephews that I didn't know I had. They had my birth date correct, they knew I lived for seven years in the San Francisco area, they had my height and weight correct….scary. They noted that Jubilee and I were registered mutants; the others were not. Glancing at the other X-men's files, I learned a few things about their backgrounds that I hadn't known.
I showed this to the rest of the team. "I cannot say that this is a surprise," Hank said, his voice melancholy. "But it is disturbing nonetheless."
Storm nodded, looking over my shoulder at the image of Jubilee on the monitor. "Indeed," she said. "We're on the Most Dangerous list-a list which, in the past, was reserved for serial killers and the like. This does seem to confirm that returning to earth on a permanent basis is not a possibility for us. I cannot say that I'm surprised either, Hank."
Shortly afterwards, it was dinnertime. We sat around the table eating, as the Professor let us know he had not been able to discover anything new using Cerebro II. I could tell it was hard for him to keep the frustration out of his tone. He joined me on the bridge after our meal as I resumed working with the computer. I'd been so successful earlier in the day that I felt on a roll.
The Professor asked me if I could tap into the files of the largest bank. As the banking industry had merged, all of the Professor's money was kept in accounts that I could access if I could reach the bank's central computer.
I worked away for a few hours. Just when it looked as if the Professor was getting tired and ready to turn in for the day, I was successful in hooking up with the Bank.
What we saw was shocking. The Professor's money was gone. All of it gone. Account after account was empty. The Professor stayed up way past his normal bedtime as we tried to ascertain what happened, but we were unable to trace it. What we were able to figure out was that shortly after FOH captured us, his accounts were drained one by one. The money was transferred elsewhere, but we could not access any information on where the money went or who owned the new accounts.
I gotta say that even I was surprised at how much money had been in those accounts. The Professor had been worth between 4-5 billion dollars. I was born and raised in a working class town; we didn't even know anyone who had that sort of money where I came from. We were raised with contempt for the rich. I reminded myself that the Professor used all of his money for the betterment of the human race, not for purchasing toys for himself. It didn't matter now anyway. The money was all gone. Given that the mansion was destroyed as well, it was safe to say at that point that the Professor was now without a dime to his name.
"It is late," Hank said, entering the bridge as he brought us cups of tea. "Perhaps you can resume your work in the morning. I am on bridge duty tonight."
"I think you are right that it is time for us to get some rest," the Professor said evenly.
His voice didn't sound quite as devastated as you'd expect from one who had lost several billion dollars. I had to ask, "So, um, how are you doing, Professor? I mean, um, emotionally and stuff?"
"Well, Bobby, I cannot say that I'm happy to find out that my money is gone. But…it is only money. It's not as if human life was lost. It's only money," he repeated.
"I understand what you mean about it being only money," Hank began. "However, on earth money is a means to an end."
"Yeah, if it weren't for all that money of yours, you wouldn't have been able to open the Institute and train all the X-men, and have the means to buy the Blackbird which we used to stop the bad guys so many times…." I let my voice trail off.
The Professor nodded. His eyes looked far away. "I think, Hank, you are correct. It is time for me to get some rest."
The Professor and I bid Hank goodnight, and headed for our rooms.
"Gambit cannot believe dat the Professor lose all his money," Gambit said. He and Rogue had paid a visit to the bridge shortly before the Professor had retired to his bedroom that evening.
"I can. With us gone and Friends of Humanity in control of everything, I ain't surprised at all," Rogue said. The couple sat together in their room, ready for bed. Remy was brushing out Rogue's long, thick hair.
"De poor old guy," he said quietly.
"Yeah, his chances of opening up another institute and training more mutants don't look too good right 'bout now," Rogue said.
"Gambit not sure dat the Professor even realize dis now."
"He's gotta come to realize it sooner or later. We ain't goin' back to earth, Remy. Not any time soon and maybe never. We're all on the Most Wanted list and mutants are being rounded up into friggin `Containment Centers.' It's disgusting."
"Maybe we can get Hank to talk to the Professor," Gambit said. "He probably closest to Hank out of everyone on dis ship. Maybe Hank can get him to realize…." his voice trailed off. Rogue's hair was now brushed out. Gambit put the brush away as Rogue bound her hair into a ponytail.
"You look so sad, chere," Gambit said quietly, looking at Rogue's beautiful but downcast features.
"Just thinking about mutants back on earth. I know, I know. We can't do nothin' till we get closer and find out more."
"You ever wish we back on the Paradise planet?"
"Yeah. Because I wasn't thinking about any of these awful things much during those months there."
Gambit put his arms around Rogue and kissed her cheek. As always, she wore a collar when the two of them were alone together. Gambit whispered into her ear, "How `bout something to take our minds off all dis?"
Rogue smiled. Yes. Yes this would be good. She opened her mouth to receive Gambit's kiss. His hands, his mouth, his touch had the magical ability to make all of her worries disappear. "I love you, Remy," she whispered as he lowered her to the bed. She reached her hands up to run her fingers through his long, auburn hair.
"I love you too, chere."
We were now about two weeks away from earth. One day, we passed close by ("close" in space terms) a Friends of Humanity vessel. We all held our breaths and then released them as we realized that they were still unable to detect our cloak. If they had detected us, they gave no sign of it. The FOH ship simply continued on its course.
The Professor was now close enough to earth that he could use not only Cerebro II but also his own powerful telepathy to attempt to reach people on earth. One day, he was having a particularly strong session. He began trying to make contact when all of us X-men (except Wolverine, who was on bridge duty) began our morning workouts, he worked right through lunch (with Storm checking in on him to ensure he was alright), and he did not stop until after we'd finished our afternoon simulated starship battles. Finally, in the late afternoon, he emerged from the Cerebro room and asked us to meet around the table in the infirmary. We assembled around the table with Colossus, who was on bridge duty, listening in via the intercom.
"I suppose that none of you will be surprised to hear that I do not have good news," the Professor began grimly. His expression was very glum, but as he said I was not the least bit surprised. "I was able to connect with both Angel and Psylocke."
"Were you able to actually enter their minds?" Storm asked.
"Yes. I was able to experience their world and see images of the lives they have been living." He paused. "They are both prisoners in a Mutant Containment Center. They have been there for a few months now. Inhibitor collars keep them, and all the other mutants, from being able to use their powers."
My heart rate sped up. I didn't really know Psylocke, and Angel and I had not exactly been best friends when we were in the X-men together. But I worried, and it was obvious that the others were greatly concerned.
"Tell us about their lives now," Storm said quietly. "Tell us about the Containment Centers." I think we all knew what was coming. I tried to brace myself mentally.
The Professor closed his eyes and then re-opened them as he prepared to speak. Wolverine looked ready to jump out of his seat. The Professor spoke, "This Containment Center is in England. The mutants are being housed in two large buildings which used to be warehouses. The FOH has a large training base adjacent to the Containment Center.
The Professor paused and then went on to describe what Angel's life was now like. "Warren lives in a barrack with about 12 other male mutants. FOH knows that he's an X-man, so he is watched 24 hours a day by at least one guard. In terms of his basic physical necessities, they are being met. FOH serves the prisoners three meals a day. They sleep on cots and are allowed 8 hours per day to sleep. The building is heated-it is winter now-though still somewhat cold. The prisoners spend most of their days doing manual labor, such as constructing buildings, yard work and that sort of thing. Warren is tired because they work 12-14 hours a day. They are given rest breaks though. The prisoners are under surveillance at all times by FOH guards, but the guards watch Warren extra closely because he is an X-man. In general, the guards do not mistreat the male prisoners unless they try to escape or otherwise challenge the guards. When that happens, mutants have been beaten and killed, tortured and set on display as 'examples.' Emotionally, of course, Warren is not in good condition right now. He and Betsy have not been able to see each other since they entered the camp."
As we digested that, Storm asked somberly, "What about Betsy?"
The look on the Professor's face said it all. He was clearly reliving the horrors he'd seen during his mental hook up with Psylocke. It took him a second to grope for the right words, to find a way to begin describing her life now. "She-and all the other women-are raped by the FOH soldiers," he said slowly. "Systematically, dozens of times every single day."
Of course. And I supposed it wasn't a coincidence that the FOH had a training base right next to the camp.
Wolverine smashed his fist into the table. "Then we got a containment center that needs liberatin-right now!" He looked ready to kill someone.
"Wolverine, I agree with you," Storm began, "but we need to think through the best way to do this. Remember, we have no idea how many FOH troops there are now, and if we are not careful, we could end up prisoners again ourselves."
"But we gotta do something," Rogue said. "And we gotta do something quickly as possible."
"I agree that we should not delay," Storm said. "However the intent of this mission was for information gathering only. Our original plan was to return to An'zhina and share what we learned with Cyclops, Jean and Jubilee."
"Den we gotta think bout breaking from our original plan. It'll take us 2 weeks to get close enough dat the Professor can hook up with Jean again," Gambit said.
"The mutants in these concentration camps don't have 2 weeks for us to spare." Wolverine said.
"Besides," I said, "I don't think it'll make a difference. Say we fly back towards An'zhina for 2 weeks, we share with Jean our plans. I'm sure she and the others will give us their blessing but they aren't going to change their minds and want to join us for this. So then it's 2 weeks to fly all the way back to this point, and we've lost a whole month for nothing."
"We can still achieve our original goal of keeping Cyclops and the others informed," Hank said. "We failed to realize earlier that this ship is capable of sending a message via subspace. We can write a concise message and send it to Endaria. Queen Marina will surely pass it along to our teammates."
We then had a discussion of what exactly to say to Jean, Scott, and Jubilee. But we couldn't decide on that until we had a game plan for ourselves. I must say that the discussion was remarkably civil and calm despite that I knew everyone was hurting over Psylocke and Angel. Even Wolverine seemed to be doing….alright.
"We are all in agreement that Psylocke and Angel need to be rescued," Storm said. No one challenged that. "We next need to decide what to do with all the other mutants in these so-called containment centers."
"Yeah," Rogue said. "We can bust them all outta there, but then what? With FOH in control of everything, they're just gonna get rounded up again."
"From what we know of the situation on earth, there may very well be no safe space there at all," Storm said.
"However, we cannot assume that they are all going to want to return to An'zhina with us," Hank said. "They will not all be willing or able to leave their families and friends."
We talked around several different scenarios. Finally, we agreed that we would offer all the rescued mutants a choice. They could come with us, if they wanted or they could remain on earth.
"We're gettin' ahead of ourselves," Wolverine said, once we'd agreed upon that. "First we gotta figure out how to free the camps."
The Professor recounted everything he'd been able to learn about how heavily guarded the camps were. "Unfortunately, the prisoners of these camps know very little about how many guards there are and their schedules, so I was unable to learn a great deal from my connection with Warren and Betsy. One thing was very clear. We need to be cautious. The FOH has no objections to using prisoners as….lessons. If we get to a point where they realize what is happening, I sense the FOH will begin executing mutants until we surrender."
"Perhaps stealth will be our greatest asset," Hank said.
We talked about the mission some more. We had two weeks to go before we'd reach earth, so we had time to think of a good strategy. We agreed that during these two weeks, the Professor would redouble his efforts to make mental contact with those on earth. And the rest of us would step up our training even more, with the Danger Room set to its most difficult levels.
"That sounds like a very good plan," Storm said. "I do have a question." She looked at the Professor. "Let us suppose we are successful in liberating these camps….Thinking through this long-term, are we saying that we will take Queen Marina up on her offer to use An'zhina as our permanent asylum?"
The Professor looked thoughtful. "I think it is too soon to say we are going to permanently settle there. However, I certainly do not object to us viewing it as at least a temporary base until the situation on earth has improved."
I looked around the table at the others. I sensed that the Professor might be the only one who wanted to think of An'zhina as merely a * temporary* base. Oh well. This was good enough for now.
Finally that day, we worked on the wording of the subspace message we'd send to Jean, Scott and Jubilee. The message would take a few weeks to reach them, and we knew we needed to keep it short. The final version of the message read:
"Mutants on earth are being rounded up into Containment Centers run by FOH. Psylocke and Angel are prisoners. We are going on a rescue mission. We decided not to return to An'zhina now because time is of the essence. We will update you as soon as possible, and we will return as soon as possible. Hope everything is well on An'zhina. You are in our thoughts."
The Professor tossed and turned in his bed as he attempted to fall asleep that night. He had remained "hooked up" with Psylocke's consciousness for too long that day, and he had spared the other X-men the details of her tortured existence. Those details, however, replayed themselves endlessly for the Professor. One of the most disciplined minds in the history of the earth was failing to control where his thoughts went.
Charles's mind especially continued to revisit one particular picture. Psylocke, backed against a wall, naked, being hosed down with freezing cold water. The next soldier then grabbing her by the hair and dragging her to a bed. Psylocke helpless to prevent any of it, trying to prepare her tense, bruised body. Thousands of FOH soldiers living in the training camp next to the containment center.
`Could we have failed so utterly? Could **I** have failed so utterly?'
Moira MacTaggert's hands shook as she opened the letter. The envelope was emblazoned with the FOH logo. It looked just like the envelope and stationary of the letter that had informed her of her son's death. She fought to continue breathing steadily.
"We regret to inform you that SEAN CASSIDY (AKA "BANSHEE") was killed during an escape attempt on January 5th. Several mutants including SEAN CASSIDY (AKA "BANSHEE") rioted one day. Our soldiers were forced to stop them, and a few mutants were killed during the riots. We are sorry for your loss."
Moira collapsed to the ground.
"Pick it up, you pathetic losers!" the FOH guard yelled at the five male mutants who were shoveling snow outside the Mutant Containment Center complex. "My 95 year old grandmother can shovel faster than that. Get moving, you mistakes of nature!" He held a collar control device menacingly.
The mutants hurried their movements, ignoring the pain in their backs and the cold that their flimsy gloves and jackets were not staving off. Warren Worthington III was one of those mutants. He never dreamed it would come to this.
"What are you lookin' at, you blue skinned freak?" one of the guards yelled at Angel. Warren quickly turned his head away and shoveled faster.
"He's one of the high-and-mighty X-men, John," a second guard said to the fist. "He sure doesn't look all that powerful right now, and I bet-"
The first soldier cut him off. "Hey, Tom-look," he said, pointing.
A truck drove up, heading for the main building. This was one of trucks that transported mutants. Hands and arms could be seen poking out of the slats of the vehicle. Closer to the truck could be heard the sounds of wailing.
"Must be that new shipment of muties from Austria."
"I can't wait to see what the new ones will be like. We need some fresh pussy in this camp."
"Tell me about it. The sluts just get worse and worse the longer they're here."
"Maybe I'll win the auction for one of the virgins this time."
"Count me out of that auction crap. I'm not giving up a month's pay for something I can get for free here. Shit, for that kind of money you can get a prostitute who knows what she's doing instead of some screaming and crying 16 year old."
"Suit yourself. I say the more screaming and crying these fucking muties do, the better. They deserve it."
Two of the five mutants who were shoveling snow together that day started talking in hushed tones. Warren could not help but to overhear bits and pieces. "Did you hear them mention the X-men?…..The X-men will rescue us," one of them said earnestly.
"Give it up, Aaron. I think we're stuck here forever. Or until we get killed for looking at one of the guards the wrong way," the other mutant whispered back. "Besides, no one's heard from the X-men for ages and the ones in this camp sure aren't able to do anything. Maybe the ship those other X-men supposedly stole crashed in space or something."
"Or maybe they're just waiting for the right time to strike! I'm not giving up."
As he worked, Warren's mind as well as his body felt numb. He went to bed and rose every day sick with worry over Betsy. The guards ensured that he, and all the other men, knew what was happening to the female prisoners.
Later that day, Warren and the other male prisoners walked in single file lines to the cafeteria for dinner. Across the huge room, he could see Nightcrawler. Just as with Warren, a guard stood behind Nightcrawler at all times. Warren had no idea what Nightcrawler was doing in England or how he got there. The guards religiously made sure the two X-men had no contact with each other. Weeks ago, they'd both been beaten badly for making eye contact and waving to each other.
The Professor entered the bridge to do some work on the computer. Beast, on guard duty at that point, glanced at Charles.
"You look as if you have not had a restful night, Professor," Hank commented.
"That is true," the Professor admitted, returning Hank's gaze. "The images I experienced yesterday from Warren and from Betsy, especially, were disquieting to say the least."
Hank nodded. "I would imagine so. I find it disturbing to simply think about what you described. I imagine that it is far worse for you, having actually seen and experienced the images in your mind."
"Yes," the Professor said. He shook his head. "Seeing and feeling a student of mine in such pain…." He let his voice trail off. He knew then that he did not want to dwell on the specifics of Psylock and Warren's imprisonment anymore.
"How do you feel, Professor, about the decision to make An'zhina our temporary base?"
"I don't see that we have a choice, for the time being at least." He repressed a sigh. "It is hard for me to accept the fact that my dream of humans and mutants living in peace…..is `on-hold' indefinitely."
"I know what you mean, Professor. We all worked for many years on this dream, and it is difficult to realize that, for the time being, we cannot advance the dream," Hank said.
The Professor nodded. "Part of me is in mourning because of this. However," he began, sounding resolute and no longer sorrowful, "our first priority now is to ensure the safety of mutants on earth and release them from this imprisonment. If we have to put the dream of humans and mutants living in peace to the side for now, then we can focus our efforts on this new goal-saving mutants' lives."
Hank voice his agreement. He strongly suspected that the X-men's new goal might be as unattainable as their original one had been.
Nightcrawler, and the 15 others who roomed in the same barrack with him, were led to their quarters for the evening. As always, armed FOH soldiers escorted mutants everywhere. And Nightcrawler, as an X-man (or *
former* X-man, as the guards never ceased to remind him), had his own personal guard keeping watch over him at all times. The soldier who had watched him from 1pm to 9pm that day was now finished with his duty shift, and a replacement stepped in to take over the task of watching Nightcrawler. Nightcrawler, and the other prisoners, were watched as they undressed for bed.
'It is amazing what you can get used to,' Nightcrawler thought to himself. 'Having someone watching you as you shower, as you go to the bathroom…..'
Nightcrawler did a lot of thinking to himself now because he, and all the other mutants, were forbidden to converse with each other. This was particularly hard for the German. He loved good conversation. However, mutants were not allowed to verbally exchange more than a handful of words at a time with each other.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nightcrawler took a quick peak at one of his roommates. Fourteen of the mutants who shared this barrack were male; one was female. He always wondered what * her* story was. Nightcrawler had gotten used to stifling his tongue and keeping quiet. He knew he would have no chance to ask her.
The mutant who Nightcrawler wondered about was named Jessica Martin. However, her friends had taken to calling her by the nickname Panda because of her resemblance to a panda bear.
If Nightcrawler could have conversed with her, this is what he might have learned about her background. When she was born 22 years ago, Jessica had looked as normal as any other baby. As she had progressed through childhood, it became clear that she was going to be a large woman; she clearly did not have the thin, waif-like figure that was in style. Her chest and shoulders were broad, her legs thick and sturdy.
As with most mutants, her mutations began to make themselves apparent when she reached puberty. She grew even bigger and taller yet. She developed animal-like fur all over her body. Some of her features began to take on a panda-like appearance, and the coloring of her fur beckoned towards that of a panda as well. She weighed over 300 lbs now. Jessica and her parents discovered that the depths of cruelty that other adolescents were capable of was astounding.
When Dr. Hank McCoy had made the national headlines due to his arrest and trial, many noted the similarities between Panda's appearance and Hank's. Both had the half-human/half-animal appearance. Panda's family had encouraged her to consider joining the X-men. But all too soon, Friends of Humanity took over and the X-men disappeared. Panda had been rounded up and taken away like all of the other mutants in her area.
When she was brought to the Mutant Containment Center, Panda noticed that the male mutants and the female mutants were separated immediately. The guards, however, took one look at Panda and laughed, making several lewd comments. They decided to group her in with the men. Only gradually did she realize how lucky she was, that she was being spared from the day in and day out sexual abuse that the other female mutants suffered in these camps. Panda had always considered her appearance a curse; now it was a blessing.
Of course that didn't stop a few of the guards from raping her on occasion. They spat in her face and told her they wanted to see what it was like to "fuck a big freak like you." But for the most part, she was spared from sexual assault and instead forced to spend her day on manual labor alongside the male mutants.
I suppose I don't need to say that the mood on board the ship was not very good as we came closer and closer to earth. In fact, I don't know what else to say about it. Nightmarish images tended to swim through my mind whenever I thought of mutants on earth, and I bet I wasn't the only one experiencing this.
I really missed Jubilee and her baby. I missed laughing and joking with Jubes, and I also longed for having an Aurora or Charlotte to play with. At the same time, I was glad they weren't there with us. I know I only would have worried about them and spent a lot of time trying to comfort Jubilee. From what I observed with my fellow X-men, we tried not to dwell on the conditions of our fellow mutants back on earth. Doing so didn't help. We went about our normal routines of training, fighting simulated battles and bridge duty. I think most of us didn't talk much about what we would face if and when we were able to rescue mutants back on earth. Of course I don't know what, say, Rogue and Gambit or even Storm and Wolverine discussed with each other when they returned to their quarters for the evening.
Even Hank and I didn't talk about it much. Generally, I brushed him every night before bed and he gave me a back rub. We relieved our tension that way, but neither of us had a burning desire to talk over what we would be facing. I did tell him once that I felt tremendous guilt. Here we'd spent all this time "on vacation", and look what was happening to mutants on earth. "I know it is illogical," Hank had said, "but I feel the same way on occasion. And I do think that we are not the only ones."
When we X-men weren't training, we discussed different possible attack scenarios. We knew our task wouldn't be easy. We'd have to liberate the camp-without harming any of the mutants and while preventing the FOH soldiers from hurting the prisoners or capturing us. We had one secret weapon though. Hank spent several hours each day perfecting a stun gas. This gas would cause anyone exposed to it to lose consciousness within seconds. Hank was working on a version of this which would have no long term side effects.
Sporadically, we watched the news and monitored TV programs from earth. This didn't lift our spirits much either. We learned that before the Mutant Containment Centers had been set up, mutants in the US had been deprived of the rights to attend college, get married, or purchase property. Laws were passed * permitting* employment discrimination against mutants. We weren't at all surprised, especially given the Mutant Sterilization Act that had passed before. We also found that other countries aside from the US had passed similar laws. Although with these "containment centers" operating, what did it matter now?
FOH must've had a great public relations group. They had several lovely TV commercials, though I wondered why they needed any since it seemed they controlled everything. I guess they wanted to ensure that they retained their favorable view in the public's eye. Probably their "best" commercial showed a mother comforting her young daughter. Apparently the young girl has just witnessed mutants behaving badly and destroying public property. The Mom is relieved when FOH steps in to restrain the mutant. The announcer reports in a glowing voice that FOH has set up discounts on counseling services for those humans who have been "traumatized by mutant violence." The commercial ends with the daughter looking happy and the mom relieved.
Of course FOH neglects to mention that had the mom and daughter been mutants, they would have no objection to rounding them up into camps and gang raping them every day.
Moira MacTaggert rarely slept for more than a few hours in a 24 hour period, and this night was no exception. At 2 a.m., she woke from her sleep, crying and shuddering as aches of despair and sadness overtook her. Her husband and her son were dead. Perhaps it would be a good thing if FOH were to kill Siryn as well; Moira could then join her family in heaven. Except that Charles Xavier might still be alive and she had to know what became of him. As long as there was a possibility that he still lived, Moira would not commit suicide.
Amazingly, Moira fell asleep again after another bout of tears. She reached a dream state and images played in her mind. She felt a soft poke from someone very familiar to her.
'Charles? Charles is that you?'
/It is I, Moira. Can you feel my presence?/
`Yes, I can. Are you dead too, now? Is that why I sense you now, Charles?'
/No, Moira, I am not dead. I am on board a starship, returning to earth./
`Am I dreaming this?'
/It is not a dream. I'm coming home, Moira. I'm coming for you./
TO BE CONTINUED