Leigh's Fanfiction Archive Stormkeeper's Fanfiction Friends Of Humanity Chapter 20
Friends of Humanity
By Stormkeeper
Chapter 20
We picked at random which Containment Center to liberate first. There was no other way. FOH now had a grand total of nine Mutant Containment Centers across the globe. We selected one of them at random and steered Freedom towards it.
We had finished the dropping off of all the mutants who wanted to return. We also managed to get a photo to Jean's parents, a letter to Panda's, and other such communications to people's families. A few of the rescued mutants had wanted us to beam their loved ones on board and have them join us. We were able to oblige those requests too. Dropping our cloak was extremely risky, but apparently we were de-cloaked for such brief periods of time that FOH either could not detect us or, on the occasions they did, we were able to re-cloak and resume hiding. So by the time we were ready for our first camp liberation, we knew that FOH knew we were back near earth. But we also were feeling pretty confident. All of the drop-offs had gone amazingly smoothly. The liberation of the next camp would have to as well.
The randomly selected Mutant Containment Center which would be the site of our first rescue was located about 20 miles from Beijing. We knew that the rescued mutants would likely pose a language barrier problem for us, but after all we'd been through, we'd find a way to deal with it. We decided to cross that bridge when we came to it, so to speak.
We were ready for battle. The Professor sat at the controls on the bridge. Moira, Panda, and Shaman waited in one of the transporter rooms, ready to escort former prisoners to sick bay as needed and deal with their needs. The rest of us were ready to take on FOH: Storm, Wolverine, Hank, Colossus, Gambit, Rogue, Jubilee, Angel, Nightcrawler, Marrow, Northstar, Jeanne-Marie, and I. And yes, Psylocke was absent from that line-up. She elected to remain safely on board the ship and not fight. Jubilee's daughter was being babysat by Elena. The rest of us stood by, ready to fly and be transported down to the camp. As last time, we wore gas masks.
Just as last time, we dropped stun gas onto the camp and began the beam-up of the mutant prisoners. After just a few seconds of doing so, the Professor let us know that three FOH warships were speeding towards us. I was not one of the X-men on the bridge at that time, but I heard over the intercom what was happening. The FOH ships chased us, but rather than engage in battle, we cloaked ourselves and turned away.
But the Professor sensed that less than half the mutants in that camp had been rescued. The moment we knew we had evaded our pursuers, we returned to the camp. Just as last time, we had to get down there and bring up any of the remaining mutants. This time, we knew there would be many.
Also like last time, I would make an ice slide to use to help me fly down, and Gambit would again cling to my back on our way down. My heart throbbed with nervousness, but at the same time I was not really afraid. All that training we had done in the Danger Room. I was more than ready.
I glanced at the others. Jean-Paul looked calm and placid. I knew that he, as I, did not relish fighting but would do it when necessary and when he believed it the right thing to do. You couldn't read Wolverine's facial expression behind his mask, but his body language indicated he was very eager and ready to kick some FOH butt. Storm radiated confidence. I was studying Jubilee's features and trying to read her expression when we received the signal from the bridge. We were within range. We were de-cloaking. It was time to go!
The hatch was opened and Storm, Rogue, Northstar, Jeanne-Marie, and Angel flew down, many of them carrying other teammates and or weapons. Nightcrawler teleported down. "Ready, mon ami?" Gambit asked. "I'm ready!" I replied. I made my ice slide, and ----- whooosh!--- down we went. It always felt like the scariest roller coaster in the world, plummeting to the surface with the wind whipping in your face. But I knew my icy pathway would hold us up and get us where we needed to go, quickly.
A second or two after Gambit and I began our descent, something went wrong. My ice slide wasn't….icy anymore. "It's melting!" I yelled. I created more and more ice, but it wasn't countering the fact that the ice beneath me was rapidly turning into water. Off in the distance, I heard an alarm sound. And then I heard a sound so awful, so overwhelming that I panicked and put my hands over my ears. It was a howl so loud and blaring that it felt like it shattered my bones. The pain caused by this noise was unbearable. I couldn't hold myself upright any longer and felt myself losing consciousness. Though within seconds, it didn't matter. Gambit and I didn't have ice underneath ourselves anymore----my slide was melted. We plummeted to the ground. Before I blacked out, I saw a bunch of FOH soldiers wearing gas masks rushing up to us.
A very hard surface. I was laying on a very hard surface and my head throbbed with pain. I wanted to move my body into a more comfortable position but I couldn't summon the strength to move at all. I got the idea to wiggle some fingers just to see if I could do it. Just that bit of effort called on every last reserve of power I had. I groaned and blacked out again.
I woke up again. How much time had passed? I had no idea. Where was I? This time, my head pounded less than before and I mustered more energy. Tongue and larynx were forced into action. "H--hank?" I was shocked at how feeble my own voice sounded but I managed to get it out.
There was no reply. I felt the sickening dread in the pit of my stomach. More and more memories came back. We were preparing for battle with FOH. I was in the transporter room, ready to go. Gambit and I had been sliding down towards the camp….
I think I blacked out again. When I came to again, my fears were with me again. Was I a captive of FOH again? How else could I explain the hard surface I was laying on and the fact that I was in such pain and nothing was being done to relieve it? Concern for my own condition soon melded into concern for my family. Where was Hank? And Jubilee? And Jean-Paul? I fought panic.
This time, I was strong enough to open my eyes. Doing so didn't help much because I soon surmised that I was laying face down. I did not have the ability to turn over or crane my head. I could sense, though, that a collar was around my neck.
More time passed. I didn't want to but I could not stop panicking. Where was everyone? Were we all prisoners again? Please god don't let them have gotten their hands on Jubilee. Or Northstar or Rogue or anyone. Oh my god how would we survive more torture at the hands of FOH again?
I heard voices in the distance. By straining a bit, I could make out what they were saying. "This is it?" a man asked.
My ears perked up and I continued listening. "Yes, Sir. We captured three of the muties."
"Not just any muties," another voice said. "X-men!"
"Why only three?" The voices now seemed close, very close. I could
tell that there were more than three men conversing, but I sure wasn't up to
doing more analysis beyond that.
"The rest tucked tail and left."
"I'm not surprised. A bunch of cowards. No loyalty to each other, unlike we Friends of Humanity soldiers!"
"How many of our prisoners did they kidnap?"
"Only about 55."
"How many of our people killed in battle?"
"None, Sir."
"Good, good."
"Sir, if I might ask, why are we keeping these X-men alive? Shouldn't we kill them right away?"
"Sir, I agree with Lieutenant Rainer. We must kill them immediately! X-men bring trouble wherever they do. We need to----"
"They won't cause us any trouble, Lieutenant. We're not taking them out of that cell and we're going to guard them at all times until we reach our destination. I think these three are perfect for our Ceti III Project. I just got orders from the Top Five to carry forward with this."
The effort of listening to them and making sense out of their words was too much. I closed my eyes. I comforted myself with the thought….if what these men were saying was right, the other X-men were out there. They weren't our fellow captives. We would be rescued in no time.
Wolverine took stock of his surroundings. He was inside a cell. Gambit and Iceman both were sprawled out on the floor of the cell, unconscious. All three had collars around their necks. Five FOH guards stood quietly, surrounding the cell with weapons in hand. They all stared mutely at Wolverine. A few had blank looks; others gazed at him with contempt and hatred on their faces.
His first thought was relief. Apparently neither Storm nor Jubilee had been captured.
Their cell was completely bare other than for a bucket placed in the center. Last time the X-men had been captives of FOH, their containment area had consisted of half of a room backed up against a wall. This time, the cell was cube shaped and squarely in the center of a room. Soldiers stood at all four sides, surrounding them and constantly monitoring them.
When he felt strong enough, Wolverine stood and began to test the force field. One soldier reached for his collar control device, but a superior said to him, "Don't bother. The dumb animal can't break through our force field. No matter how strong he thinks he is." The soldier had been right, as Wolverine suspected he would be. Still, the X-man tested each side of the force field. If anything, it seemed stronger than the field that had held them prisoner so long ago. This time, Wolverine was not going to use up his energy by pounding on the force field.
Resigned that he was temporarily unable to escape, Logan went up to his comrades. He didn't want to move either of them, given the injuries they might have. Based on a visual inspection, Wolverine surmised that neither was seriously or permanently harmed. Perhaps their unconscious state was due solely to Raucous's wailing.
Wolverine had witnessed and participated in enough of the battle to remember a few disturbing details. Several traitor mutants had been working for FOH. Raucous had used his powers to disable the group. So had Vertigo. Pyro had been there, as had the old henchman of Sinister's known as Gorgeous Jorge. In fact, it had been Jorge's stretchy arms that had placed a collar around Wolverine's neck as the Canadian had been battling several FOH soldiers.
`Damn fucking traitors,' Wolverine thought to himself.
Several times, he attempted to engage the guards in conversation. He wanted to learn anything----details of the battle, where he was now, what was in store for him. The guards were steadfast and silent no matter what Wolverine said or how he tried to provoke them. After a while, one of the soldiers finally used the collar control device to shoot a wave of intense agony through Logan's body. "Shut up, animal! Or next time, we torture your boyfriends instead!"
Gambit and Bobby slowly regained consciousness. Just as Gambit was managing to sit up, another soldier entered the vicinity of their cell with a tray of food. He used the same airlock device as FOH had before to place the food inside the cell without allowing the prisoners a chance to escape.
Wolverine eyed the meal. Last time X-men had been prisoners, they had been served half rotted food, and meager portions. Now here was a change. The tray contained heaping portions of fresh bread and butter, leafy green spinach, boiled potatoes, and roast pork. A large bowl of soup stood next to the other food. There was easily enough for three hungry men to eat and have left-overs. Wolverine sniffed the edibles. Normal food from a replicator. No poison or drugs. The rest of his powers were muted due to the collar, but his hyper-sense of smell remained with him as it had last time he'd been a prisoner of FOH.
There may have been no poison in the food, but there were no utensils either. The FOH had not included any forks, knives, spoons or napkins with the meal. Although Wolverine's stomach started to rumble with hunger and his mouth became wet, he was not about to eat.
After some time, Gambit began to eye the meal desirously. As his teammate was still weak, Logan got up and handed the tray to the Cajun. Watching Gambit eat made Wolverine more hungry, and he took several bites of the food.
"That's right, animals," a man said, entering the large room that contained their cell. "Eat up."
"Where are we? Where you taking us?" Gambit asked.
"I only converse with humans, not with sub-human filth. We ask the questions here. Welcome aboard, Mr. Logan and Mr….Remy LeBeau," the FOH commander said, egregiously mispronouncing Gambit's name.
"It's Remy LeBeau," Gambit said, indignant at the mangling of his name.
The man continued as if Gambit had not spoken. "And there is Mr. Bobby Drake. He should be fine in a few hours. Plenty of time for you to recover on this journey. But what a shame that we weren't able to capture any of your females. They make such nice toys for me and my soldiers. Oh well. When we get back to earth, I'll just visit one of the camps and make use of one of the girls there. Mutant females are such sluts."
Wolverine and Gambit attempted, again, to engage him in conversation and glean any more useful information. The FOH commander told them nothing, and he left the room after not long.
Pandemonium reigned on board Freedom. While Hank, Shaman, Panda, Ramon, and Elena were occupied with the mutants that the X-men had managed to rescue, the rest of the team debated what had happened and what to do from there. "How could we have been overwhelmed like that??" "We weren't expecting Raucous, Vertigo and the other traitors to be there!" "I can't believe how fast the other FOH ships got there. We're lucky we survived and our ship is in one piece." "I still don't know how we managed to evade them."
During the confusion and panic of the battle at the camp, six FOH battleships had raced to the site. The X-men were not able to beam up all of the members of the team before they had to make a run for it. Knowing that Freedom had no chance of surviving a conflict with six ships, they were forced to flee earth's atmosphere. Freedom had sustained so much damage that its cloaking device was compromised and FOH was able to follow them into space. The X-men had spent several tense days warping through the galaxy and trying to outrun the FOH ships, occasionally defending the ship by engaging the others in battle. They didn't stand a chance with the odds so heavily against them, much as they wanted to defeat the FOH. It was a miracle that the six FOH ships had not destroyed Freedom entirely and captured them all. Beast had worked furiously to repair the vessel so that they no longer leaked ion and were able to successfully re-engage the cloak.
Once they were cloaked again and certain no more FOH ships could locate them, the X-men debated what to do. The Professor looked at the anxious faces sitting around the table and felt the confusion, fear, and panic. "Our number one priority must be to locate Wolverine, Gambit and Iceman," Storm said with a calmness that the Professor knew she did not feel inside.
"Our ship is no longer leaking ion and FOH can no longer detect us," Beast said. "We can use our stealth to recover our missing friends."
"Well, we gotta move really fast and quit sitting around here debating what happened!" Rogue said. The Professor looked at her, knowing that unlike Storm, Rogue was making no effort to disguise her anxiety. "For all we know, they might already be dead!" Rogue's hair was unkempt and dark circles graced her eyes.
"Professor, tell us what you were able to sense," Storm said, knowing that Xavier had just come from spending hours with Cerebro.
The Professor took a deep breath. "I was not able to sense anything." He noticed Rogue take a sharp breath. "Please do not panic---this does not mean that they are dead. After my session with Cerebro, I strongly sense that they are not on earth. If they were on earth, I would have been able to detect them. But perhaps they are elsewhere."
"Maybe FOH has them on a starship," Nightcrawler said.
"A vessel that went travelling at warp since shortly after our battle back at the camp would be out of Cerebro's range by now."
Rogue made an exasperated sound, a sound indicating someone on the verge of hysteria. "If they're on some cloaked ship travelling at warp, how the hell are we ever gonna to find them!"
"And we cannot be certain at this point," Beast began gently, "that they are even still alive." He said the words dispassionately, but he felt the same turmoil inside as everyone else. Every minute he had to fight the thought that FOH had already tortured and killed Bobby by now.
"But **why** would they take them?" Storm wondered. "And **where** would they take them?"
Angel spoke up, "Look, I hate to be the one to say this, but I gotta say that I don't think FOH would keep them alive. In the camps, they used to always say to Kurt and I that they hated keeping us alive and since we were X-men, we should die. I don't think that was just talk, either. Since then, we've raided one of their camps and half-raided this one. Besides, Wolverine, Gambit and Bobby were involved in the killings of the FOH soldiers on this ship. FOH would have no qualms about serving as judge, jury, and executioner for them."
During the entire exchange, Jubilee was sitting by herself in a chair off to the side, away from the table. Aurora was in her arms, and both mother and daughter cried softly. The baby could not understand why but knew her mother was devastated, so she cried along with Jubilee. The sound of their combined wailing formed a painful dirge for everyone else to listen to as they debated where to go.
"We must proceed as if they are alive and formulate a rescue plan," Storm said. "If they are dead, we will find out one way or another. But for now, let us operate under the assumption that they are alive but that time is running out."
"Perhaps they are being taken to the Acid Planet," Beast suggested. He amazed himself at being able to state it so calmly and evenly. The image of his best friend being tossed to an excruciating death in a pit of acid would haunt his sleep for the next several nights.
The others discussed his thought. It was possible, they admitted, but they had no way of knowing. "That's why we need to head back for earth!" Rogue said. "I say we capture some FOH high-up and make him tell us where they are!"
"That is a good idea," Storm said. "It might be the only way we find out. However, keep in mind that any FOH leaders are going to be exceptionally well-guarded."
"It will be difficult to get to them," Nightcrawler agreed, nodding. "Considering how swiftly they responded when we tried to liberate that last camp. But I agree that we must try. How else can we find out their plans?"
The X-men discussed different ways of locating FOH leadership. Ideas began to simmer. The Professor proposed using Cerebro to probe the minds of FOH leadership. "This version of Cerebro has never been as reliable as its predecessor. It is far more difficult to scan the minds of specific individuals. However, I think I can try. If I work at it long enough, I can identify the top FOH leadership and start from there."
The group liked this idea. They discussed a bit more of the logistics. Colossus had a question. "Even if Wolverine, Gambit and Iceman are alive," he began, "and if we do find them, how will we rescue them?"
Angel nodded. "As we saw during our battle at the camp, our one starship isn't a match for two or three or six of theirs. And as powerful as we are, we're outnumbered when we're up against thousands of troops….and those mutant traitors like Pyro and the rest."
"I wonder," Storm began, "if we can implore Queen Marina for help. The Endarians have power far beyond anything from earth."
"I thought that the Endarians were extremely xenophobic though," Nightcrawler said. "I think perhaps they will not help us."
"They gave us a moon," Rogue said. "Maybe we can get them to give us more."
"The journey to Endaria is almost five weeks from our current position!" Colossus said. "By then maybe is too late."
"And if we return towards An'zhina, we will be moving farther and farther away from earth," Storm said. "It will be difficult, if not impossible, for the Professor and Cerebro to reach the minds of any FOH leaders."
The group discussed this for quite some time. An idea came to Storm, and the group talked it over. Eventually, it was decided. Psylocke and Angel would head towards Endaria in a cloaked shuttle. The journey would still take five weeks, but Psylocke could make telepathic contact with Jean Grey in perhaps four weeks. Maybe it would be too late, maybe not, and maybe Marina would refuse to help more than she already had. But it wouldn't harm anything. Psylocke and Angel departed just hours after the meeting, sharing quick and sad goodbyes with the rest of the team.
I sat on the floor of our cell, literally quaking with fear. "Breathe, Drake, breathe," Wolverine whispered to me.
"It gonna be ok. The others rescue us," Gambit said, sitting next to me.
"They know who we are," I finally whispered, my voice shaking. "They're going to torture me. Any minute they're going to come in and…."
"Take it easy. They ain't done nothing yet and they're not gonna," Wolverine said low.
"How do you know that??" My thoughts were stuck on our last ordeal as FOH prisoners and how I'd been dragged out of the room so that the troops could torture me. This time they wouldn't make the stupid mistakes they'd made before. I was a goner. I'd never been tortured before but I had read a lot about it. I wouldn't last a minute. I have a low tolerance for pain. Every time a soldier entered or left the room, I stiffened with fright. What torture devices would they use? Which parts of my body would suffer the most? How long would it last? How would I survive? Chills sped through my body and I couldn't stop shaking. I also needed very, very badly to urinate.
"One of `em said they weren't taking us out of this cell," Wolverine whispered resolutely.
"They can always use the collar device to torture us!" I shot back. I didn't care whether I sounded like a coward or not. I was terrified out of my mind.
Gambit put a hand on my arm, trying to reassure me. One of the guards noticed. "Get your paw off him!" he yelled. "We don't put up with that faggot shit here." He held a collar device menacingly, and Gambit's hand was promptly removed.
"You're gonna regret capturing us," Wolverine said at one point. "Remember what happened to the last FOH scum who kidnapped us."
"Shut up, dirty animal!" a guard said. "We're not gonna make the mistakes they did."
"The other X-men gonna be here and dey gonna kill you for dis," Gambit said.
"That's what you think, French guy. Your disgusting friends have no idea where you are, and we're so far our of their scanning range right now, they'll never find you." Another guard told the one who'd been speaking to be quiet.
Wolverine and Gambit again tried to get more information from them, but the soldiers just turned the conversation to bragging about how many mutant women they had raped. I closed my eyes and again thanked every power in the universe that none of the women were here with us. I desperately, desperately wished that Jean-Paul, Hank and everyone else were safe.
At times like this, I do regret not being religious. I never liked organized religion. I got so far away from it, I generally felt there was no going back. And I don't know if there is a god or a higher power out there watching over us. It just seemed like, after all the pain and suffering in the world (especially for mutants) that there wasn't. But I didn't know. Still, I longed for someone or something to pray to.
Rogue and Storm sat in Rogue's room. Rogue had polished off a box of tissues and was simply too exhausted to resume crying. She flopped down onto the bed and moaned. A part of her had been ripped from her side and she knew she might never regain it. She felt herself in intense physical pain even though her wound was psychological.
Storm sat on the chair, her hands folded in her lap, her head down. She was forcing herself to breathe normally. "There is nothing I can do right now," she said aloud, though more to herself than to Rogue as the younger woman clearly was not listening. "The Professor has secluded himself with Cerebro and he will get some answers. We are circling earth and we are cloaked. Psylocke and Angel are on their way to Endaria to ask for help." Storm found herself repeating such thoughts.
Rogue finally ceased moaning and spoke. "If we ever get Remy back, this is it for me. I'm finished with our life of action and adventure. Remy and I are gonna settle on An'zhina and enjoy it there. We're finished with living the dangerous lives of X-men. But that's if I ever get Remy back." At the last sentence, Rogue resumed crying.
Storm closed her eyes. She had spent hours with Rogue crying on her shoulder and was too tired now to get up and offer her shoulder again. `I have to face it,' Storm thought to herself. `I'm in love with him. I guess I've known it for a while now, even though Logan will never return my love.. And now I feel about how Rogue looks.'
Rogue continued with her pronouncements, saying she had lived through enough struggle and enough heartbreak. "I hate it! Why the hell did god or fate or whoever give us such a crappy hand?! I'm not goin' on like this any more! And if I don't get Remy back, I don't wanna live anymore!"
At that, Storm got up and embraced the younger woman. Rogue resumed a painful bout of tears, her body shaking with sorrow and exhaustion. Storm murmured comforting words to her friend.
After Rogue fell asleep and Storm had returned to her own room, the wind rider mulled over some of Rogue's words. `I'm never leaving the work of the X-men,' she thought to herself. `As long as there is pain and suffering in the world, I will commit myself to getting rid of it.'
There was no bathroom. When I got to the point that my bladder was bursting and the fullness was a constant pain, I actually got up the nerve to ask a guard to be taken to a restroom. He laughed and said, "Animals don't use bathrooms. Go piss in that bucket we left for you." And so that was our toilet. The guards thoughtfully left a roll of toilet paper for us and they changed the bucket a few times. I guess we should have been thankful for small favors.
We were never offered a chance to take a shower either, and after a couple days, I sure didn't envy Wolverine's enhanced sense of smell. I would have given anything for a sink and some soap or at least some of those hand wipes. I also wished desperately for a toothbrush and toothpaste. Proper decorum precludes me from going into any more detail on this topic.
However, a couple of times during our journey, the guards brought in a large hose and hosed down our fully clothed bodies. Afterwards I sat there shivering in my drenched clothing. "You all are starting to stink so bad, we had to do something!" they said. A clean change of clothes and a bath would have been heaven.
The guards almost never spoke to us or told us anything, no matter how hard we tried to get information from them. They did come in and taunt us every so often. They usually called Wolverine "dirty animal" or "filthy animal", they addressed Gambit with "Hey, French guy," or "sleazy French guy" no matter how often he tried to tell them he was Cajun, not French. And they addressed me, of course, as "faggot", "homo", "dirty queer" and all those other names. (You know, they wouldn't have to use adjectives such as "dirty" if they'd allowed us to take showers!)
However, other than the verbal taunting, they did nothing, which really surprised us. They brought us heaping portions of large meals and we never went hungry. After the first couple of days (I guessed that was how long had passed, judging from the length of the growth of my facial hair), I stopped shaking and could breathe normally. It didn't seem like they were going to torture us. It didn't seem like they were going to do anything, though.
Frequently, the three of us spoke in hushed whispers, speculating as to what their plans were for us. Based on conversation Wolverine had overheard and a few things we **had** gotten out of the guards, we knew we were almost certainly on a starship and were being taken somewhere. But we had no idea where we were going or why. We tried to guess why they hadn't killed us.
"They want us to do something," Wolverine whispered one day. It was difficult sitting close enough to hear whispering since we all reeked by then. "They ain't causing us any bodily harm and they're feedin' us. When we get wherever we're goin', they're gonna have us do something for them."
That sounded reasonable enough. It did nothing, of course, to assuage my fears and anxiety. Each night as I went to sleep, I muffled my tears. I wanted to be back kissing Northstar in the hallway outside my room. I wanted to be playing cards with a group in the rec room. I wanted to be bouncing Rory on my lap as Jubilee and I gossiped, and I wanted to be brushing out Hank's fur. Would I ever experience any of those things again? Wave after wave of dispair washed over me.
Perhaps it was odd, but the three of us didn't really fight or argue much. I expected Gambit and Wolverine to do so---they sure had last time we were all FOH prisoners----but they didn't. Gambit and Wolverine were angry as hell but calm (much calmer than I.) I'm not sure why but I think maybe they were just so grateful that Rogue, Jubilee, and Storm hadn't been abducted with us. And really they'd lived long enough as X-men to feel confident that they would somehow get out of this one too. They kept reminding me of all the things we X-men have struggled with and defeated over the years.
Our cell was big enough that we all had quite a bit of room to pace and room to move. On up days, we actually trained. Wolverine would coach me in karate moves. All three of us would do whatever sort of training and physical activity we could---karate, push-ups, arm wrestling, etc, etc. Usually, though, the guards would yell at us to stop and use the collar device to hurt us until we stopped working. But we were able to stretch and move around.
The Professor ended another session with Cerebro to no avail. He had stopped because he knew he had reached his limit and desperately needed a rest. Too exhausted to eat dinner, he steered his hover chair back to his room and looked forward to sleep.
The 55 mutants they had rescued from FOH were a mess. What's worse, communicating with them was difficult, if not impossible. Only about 12 spoke any English. As telepaths, Charles and Betsy were the only X-men who could communicate with them, but Betsy was gone and Charles had to devote himself to his work with Cerebro. Beast had been teaching himself Mandarin in an attempt to communicate with them. His brilliant mind was adept enough that he had already learned quite a bit, though certainly not enough to carry on an extensive conversation.
Shaman's powers had worked wonders on healing the physical bodies of the rescued mutants, but the big challenge would be dealing with their emotional wounds. "They come from a culture of shame," Hank had told Panda one night. "Many Asian cultures teach its people to feel shame over all aspects of their lives. The mutants we rescued feel shame over being mutants, over 'disgracing' their families with this. They feel ashamed that they were placed in a containment center. And the women all feel shame over being raped." Even if the Professor had been available to help, very few of the rescuees wanted any sort of counseling. They were too mortified to want to discuss their experience with anyone.
The X-men were dealt another blow when one of the rescued mutants killed herself. They grimly held an awkward service for her and feared others would follow her. Hank, Shaman, and the others who worked in medical attempted to monitor the rescued mutants as much as possible.
All of these thoughts swirled through Charles's head as he made it to his room at last. He undressed for bed, though he could tell it would be one of those nights where the body and mind were too wound up and drained for real sleep.
A knock was heard on his door. Inwardly, the very patient and hard working man groaned. But he then turned his telepathy on and realized who it was. "Come in, Moira," he said, reaching for his robe and donning it.
Moira entered the Professor's quarters. "Is anything the matter?" he asked her. They had continued their tradition of eating breakfast together, but that was generally the only time of day they were able to spend together. Seeing Moira here in the late evening made Charles worry something was amiss.
"No, nothing at all," she said. "I was just concerned for you, Charles. I know you are under an enormous amount of stress. I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help."
"Thank you, Moira," he said quietly. She approached his bulky hover chair. "I could certainly use…y-your support."
Moira smiled to herself. She hadn't heard Charles Xavier become tongue-tied since their courtship decades ago. Moira decided to act on impulse and reach her hands towards his head. "You've been over-working this amazing mind of yours," she said, as she touched her hands to his temples.
Charles thought how smooth and refreshingly cool Moira's hands felt against his skin. She slowly began to gently rub his temples. Charles wondered if he had inadvertently given her a subconscious suggestion to do so, because that was exactly what he wanted her to do. Her soothing hands were somehow causing his tension and exhaustion to evaporate.
Moira herself was remembering how much she used to love to touch his bald head. So many decades ago when they had been engaged, she'd loved touching the smooth surface and marveling at how sleek it was.
When the time was just right, she stopped her action. "I can get you a cup of tea. Wouldya like that?" she asked softly. "I think a cup of chamomile tea would be perfect for you, Charles."
"Thank you, Moira," was all he could manage to say. She then departed for the nearest food replicator. In her absence, Charles silently reminded himself to get a hold of his emotions. His defenses were a bit down, he knew, because he was fatigued by the rigorous mental activity he'd been engaged in. `But Moira is a recent widow and I must exercise more control,' he told himself as he forced himself to reign in his feelings.
After Moira returned, they sat together and sipped tea. They didn't speak, but Moira sat close enough to his chair that they could hold hands. Xavier was such a powerful telepath that he could easily read other people's emotions and thoughts. Oftentimes, he had to exert control over his powers in order to **not** pick up other people's feelings. This night, he was too tired and he automatically sensed her feelings for him. But he also knew they were both adults and that the time to begin exploring these mutual feelings was not right.
It was night on board the ship. We knew that because Wolverine could hear the soldiers talking amongst themselves and had learned their pattern of when the guards rotated who was on duty to stand watch over our cell. We were served three regular meals a day, and we knew it was breakfast because we would be served such foods as scrambled eggs, sausage, pancakes and bagels with cream cheese. Never had prisoners ever been so well-fed as we were. Mealtime was truly becoming the only high point of my days.
Of course nighttime didn't mean much to us----the lights in the room blared brightly all hours of the day and needless to say there were no beds in the cell. Still, we'd managed to get on a pretty regular schedule and we generally slept at night. I peeked over at Gambit and wished my uniform included a duster as his did----he always rolled it up and made it into a pillow. As every night now, I rolled onto my stomach and slept with my head resting on my forearms. My neck was constantly sore, not to mention my shoulders and forearms.
I managed to drift off at one point, but then I was awakened by some yelling. Some guards were standing closer to our cell than usual and they shouted at each other. "We wanna get him outta there!" one of them yelled. "We'll use the airlock and there'll be no chance he can escape." It sounded like a couple others were loudly agreeing with this guy.
"No way. The captain said the prisoners stay in there till the journey's over----no exceptions!"
"We just wanna have some fun with him!" a different voice screamed. Then it sounded like yet another man said, "We want to beat up that faggot! He deserves it. Let us get to him!" Another one said, "We'll return him when we're done. I got a baseball bat that I wanna use on him."
Oh shit. They were talking about me. I tried to block out their words but they could wake the dead with their screaming. I stiffened with fear and didn't move a muscle. I tried to keep breathing as my pulse raised. I broke out in a cold sweat.
"I told you! The captain will kill us if we take any of them out of there!"
"I rank higher than you, Private! I'm a Lieutenant. Now do what I say and----"
"You guys will get in a lot of trouble for beating him up! Our orders were to deliver the muties un-harmed and in good condition. You'll get punished if you beat him up!"
"I don't care! I wanna get my hands on that faggot and rip him to shreds!"
It continued on and on like that. I couldn't do anything but lay in my cell, though there was no longer really any need to pretend I was asleep. I didn't turn my head to watch, though it sounded like a lot of pushing and shoving was going on. From what I heard, their fight turned to blows at one point.
Finally some high ranking guy came in and told them to cease. So the fight stopped and my would-be torturers left without getting a chance to beat me up, though they complained loudly. I hung my head back down onto my forearms and tried to sleep once more. `Come on Storm,' I thought to myself, `what is taking you and the others so long??'
Of course I knew Wolverine's super-sensitive hearing would easily have allowed him to hear the exchange among the guards (heck, a deaf man should've been able to hear it given their screaming). The next day, the three of us talked about it in whispers. The guards had revealed a bit during their yelling. "Who and where is it we're being taken to?" I whispered.
"An' what dey want us to do?" Gambit asked.
"Must be some sorta physical labor," Wolverine said. "That's why they want us in good condition."
"Quiet in there!" one of the guards yelled. Our conversation was over.
Panda generally was an optimist. She had to be --- it was her sense of humor and positivity that had allowed her to survive a tormented childhood and adolescence. Recent circumstances, however, had really required her to grasp at straws to find anything to be grateful for. But she had just found one. `We're so busy now, I don't have to feel bad about Hank not asking me to make love. Clearly now, neither of us has the time!' She chuckled to herself, though she also knew it was no laughing matter. Although Hank didn't like to talk about it, it was obvious that in addition to being too busy, he was too depressed at the loss of Bobby.
Truly all of the X-men were busy at all hours of the day, tending to the former prisoners. Panda herself had done some surfing and found a computer program that could teach the English language. Only about 20 of the rescued mutants were interested in it, but Panda gladly led those who wanted to the computer lab and she occasionally popped in to assist with their progress. Not knowing a word of Mandarin or Cantonese herself, she was fairly limited in what she could do, but she was able to help them pronounce words correctly. `At least it's something,' she told herself. One of the former prisoners who did speak a little English was on hand that day to assist the others with their learning.
Hank was progressing in his study of Mandarin, and the numbers of those who wanted to communicate with him were slowly swelling. Still, very few of the women had allowed him to examine them, even though some of them were clearly suffering from infections and other sexually transmitted diseases.
`At least no one else has killed themselves,' she told herself. She then shook her head. `Sheesh, things must be pretty crappy if I'm counting that as something to be happy for!' The mood on board the ship, however, was dismal and it grew worse with each passing day. Every time Panda saw either Rogue or Jubilee, each woman looked as if she had just finished a round of crying. Panda asked Jubilee one day if she wanted someone to talk to, and Jubilee had simply collapsed into her warm arms and cried for an hour, until her tiny body couldn't do it any longer. The Professor always looked downright haggard, and the very patient man grew visibly more frustrated as each day went by. Storm was tight-lipped and sullen. She didn't know Northstar well, but he clearly was upset too.
And then there was Hank. She'd never seen him so distraught, though he seemed to be attempting to hide it. One evening, they'd sat together after a dinner that Hank barely picked at. He'd been making a half-hearted effort to discuss a scientific article he'd recently read. "You don't need to hide your feelings around me, my love," she said to him out of the blue.
"I do not wish to dampen your spirits. There is no need for me to waste your time by talking about how much I miss Bobby and the others. You already know that I miss them," Hank said.
"Hank," Panda said, reaching for one of his hands. "I love you and I care about you. Listening to you is **never** wasting my time. You don't ever have to pretend to be happy for me! I---what kind of relationship would that be if one person expected the other to fake it all the time? Or if you couldn't just be yourself?"
Hank forced a smile. He hadn't wanted to show her this side of him, didn't think she needed to see him cry or listen to him mourn over Bobby. Even as he forced the corners of his mouth upwards, they twitched and he felt the lump build up in his throat. "I cannot bear the thought that I might never see Bobby again," he said, lowering his head. "Every night I go to bed with the image of him being tortured and killed by FOH."
Panda held him as Hank cried unabashedly now.
When I did sleep, I dreamt of Northstar. When I couldn't sleep, I focussed on his image to help me. His softly French-accented voice. His eyes. Did I ever mention how beautiful they were? That gorgeous hair with the silky-white highlights. His creamy white smooth skin which had not a blemish on it. The way he moved and the way he walked---elegant, dancer-like. The way he kissed, the velvet feel of his tongue in my mouth.
He and I had about a week together before this happened. Was that fated to be all for me? Was that it?
"Okay, stand up!" a guard commanded, entering the room that contained our cell. Wolverine was having some attitude that day and just told the guard to fuck off. The guard then used the collar device on me. I had already stood up, but the soldier shot such an agonizing wave of pain through me that all I could do was sink back down to my knees. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire with excruciating pain even though the torture device had been turned on for only a matter of seconds.
Wolverine was now standing, and he and Gambit helped me get back on my feet. The guards then required us to walk through the airlock one at a time. The second each one of us was out of the cell, they used the torture device again to overwhelm us with another shot of pain. While each of us was debilitated, they handcuffed us and placed ankle restraints on us as well. Smart thinking on their part. We didn't even have a split second in which we could try something. Before we knew it, our wrists and ankles were restrained and each of us had two guards escorting him down a hallway. That, combined with the collars and collar control devices, guaranteed that we were pretty much as helpless as we'd been the moment we were brought on board that ship.
Three guards then led me into a room. We were alone----the other X-men were not brought to this room. My heartbeat raced and I again broke out in a cold sweat of terror. `So now they're going to torture me,' I thought. `I will now find out what prolonged torture feels like.' I closed my eyes and prayed that I would find the means to withstand it.
I then opened my eyes. The room I had been brought to was not unlike the personnel quarters on board Freedom, except that this room was slightly larger. The soldiers pushed me into the bathroom.
"Take off your clothes," one of them commanded.
I froze. Oh my god.
"He can't take his clothes off, Sir," one of the soldiers said. "Look at the handcuffs and---"
"Yes, of course. Use your knives----tear his filthy rags off."
I stood as still as possible as two of the men whipped out blades and literally tore my dirty clothing from my body. I tried to brace myself for whatever sort of abuse they were going to inflict upon me.
"Now get in there and take a shower, you dirty mutant!"
That's it? The soldier pointed at the shower. My eyes were wide and I was quite shocked for a moment. "Go!" he said again.
I climbed into the shower as best I could, though I fell on my backside on the way in due to all the restraints on my body. It took another several seconds for me to get back on my feet. The shower had no curtains and the three soldiers watched me, their guns poised, as I ran the water, soaped up and rinsed. It was like some bizarre silent comedy. Despite my fear, my soreness, my exhaustion, and my puzzlement at the entire scenario, I was delighted to be taking a shower. After god knows how many days or weeks without one, the warm water felt like heaven. I rejoiced in soaping up and rinsing away the rankness from my body. I used the soap to wash my hair as best I could too. The soldiers just stood there, watching.
"Okay, that's enough, pretty boy! Now get out."
They directed me to a towel, and then to clean clothing: underwear, khaki trousers, and a white T shirt. As I picked up the clothes, I realized that dressing while wearing handcuffs and ankle restraints would be fairly impossible. The soldiers must have realized it too. I screamed in shock and pain as another wave of agony overtook me.
The soldiers must have used the collar device to knock me out cold. When I came to again, I was still in that room, dressed in the clean clothing….and the handcuffs and ankle restraints were back on me. I had no shoes or socks on. The same three soldiers were still there with me.
"Now shave."
Sitting on the bathroom countertop were plastic razor blades and---how thoughtful---shaving cream. I'd never shaved while handcuffed before and it was quite an experience. Still, I was glad to get rid of all the prickly facial hair since I so prefer a smooth look.
When I was done with my grooming, I was tempted to inquire about after-shave---but instead the soldiers then shoved me out the door of that room, and back down the hall. During this time, I kept my eyes wide open and darted my head around as much as I could. Despite lingering pain from having the collar used on me three times in a short amount of time and despite my bound wrists and ankles, I was hoping for a chance to escape. The soldiers, however, must have been hip to my thoughts. They practically sandwiched me as we walked down the hall, and one watched me like a hawk as he held the collar control device.
I was brought to a different cell than the one we'd been in before. This one was more similar to the type of unit we X-men had all been placed in so long ago when we were captives of FOH. It occupied about half of a large room and was cordoned off by a force field. The square-shaped cell had walls on three sides, and the force field on the fourth side. Once I was deposited into the cell, I tested the force field. As strong as ever. Two guards remained in the room to keep watch over me. Their eyes followed my every move.
This prison would be paradise compared to our previous one: it had a toilet and sink. I almost wanted to rejoice. And blessedly, a few rolls of toilet paper were on the floor next to the can. No shower though.
As I scurried about the cell, looking for possible ways to escape, the door to the room containing the cell slid open. Three guards brought a struggling Gambit in. As they had with me, they forced him through the airlock. Once he was inside, they pressed a few buttons and his handcuffs and ankle cuffs came off.
Gambit and I looked at each other in amazement. He was clean too. Clearly he'd showered and shaved just as I had. (Though with Gambit, even after he shaves, you can bet stubble will grow back in a few hours.) He was similarly attired as I---khaki pants and a neutral-colored shirt. No shoes or socks either. He and I whispered together.
"What is goin' on?" he asked.
"Maybe they got tired of looking at us and smelling us," I said.
"Den why wouldn't dey just hose us down like dey did dose two other times? And why make us shave?"
"Maybe they're going to ask us to do some modeling."
Gambit gave me a crazed look but I had to try to make a joke out of it. It was all too absurd.
We kept looking towards the door, expecting Wolverine to be tossed in at any minute. Time passed and no sign of Wolverine. Our dinner was brought to us, right on schedule. Still no Wolverine. We asked the guards about him but got the usual response we received whenever we asked them anything: "Shut the hell up, muties."
Finally, long after Gambit and I had eaten our dinner (saving some of it for Logan), an unconscious Wolverine was tossed through the airlock. I suppose I don't need to say that he also had showered and was donned in fresh apparel. (None of his facial hair was gone though.) After what seemed like several hours, he regained consciousness. He was dazed but basically alright. He must have put up more of a fight for his guards.
"We must be close," he whispered to us, "close to wherever they're bringin' us."
Angel and Psylocke continued their journey towards An'zhina. They were still too far away to make contact, though Psylocke tried several times a day to reach the mind of Jean Grey. Both women had strong powers, but there was only so much that could be done to cross the span of the many light-years that separated them.
With each passing day, Warren felt more and more despair. And although he was concerned about Wolverine, Gambit and Iceman, the main cause of his despair was his deteriorating relationship with Betsy. Nothing would ever be the same. If he and Betsy settled on An'zhina for the long-term---and it appeared they would have no choice----gone forever would be the days when he could show his love by lavishing Betsy with extensive gifts. He had no money, his millions gone.
Not that Betsy even seemed to care one way or the other. They had so much time together in the small shuttle, but they rarely spoke. Betsy was slowly becoming more like her old self….but much, much quieter. She spent long stretches of the day writing in a journal, as Xavier had recommended she do. Warren passed much of his time playing computer games. He and Betsy played cards together, though she usually failed to respond to any of his attempts at conversation.
They were having sex again. They had started to do so a couple weeks before Freedom reached earth. Betsy had initiated it, as Warren knew not to. It was an enjoyable way to pass the time during their journey. Half the time now, Warren initiated it and Betsy rarely said no. However, just as Betsy was a pale shell of her old self, their lovemaking had now deteriorated to a mechanical act. Gone were the fire, the passion, and the spark from Betsy. Feeling cold and empty, Warren wondered how much longer this would go on.
Jubilee, Rogue, Storm, and Northstar sat in the rec room. Northstar sat on the floor with little Aurora as the baby crawled around, picking up various toys that had been replicated. Northstar half-heartedly played with the baby, vaguely remembering his own daughter who died so long ago….How much sadness could be packed into one life, he wondered?
"What is the deal with those traitors like Pyro and Vertigo?" Rogue burst out. The question came out of nowhere but it had been running through her head frequently. "What the hell were they doing helping FOH??"
"And you're like surprised?" Jubilee asked. "They've never exactly been upstanding examples of….moral behavior."
"Hiring yourself out to Magneto or even Sinister is one thing," Northstar said grimly. "But working for Friends of Humanity is entirely different."
Storm shrugged. "Perhaps they are simply doing what they need in order to stay alive. FOH would probably kill them if they were not following their bidding."
"You're far too kind, Storm," Rogue muttered. "Maybe FOH is paying them well and letting them live in the lap of luxury for turnin' Benedict Arnold on their own kind."
The four exchanged somber looks with each other. Would there be no end to the suffering of mutants on earth? What limits could some mutants be pushed to in order to survive?
Finally, Jubilee exploded. "I can't stand this! I can't sitting around talking and wondering and doing nothing!! Wolvie, Bobby and Gambit could be **dead** for all we know!"
Rogue looked at Jubilee and then just began crying again. During the past several days, Rogue had only ceased crying for periods of time, intervals in which it seemed her body only was regaining enough strength to begin crying anew. She didn't care who saw her bawling either.
"The Professor has been working with Cerebro day and night," Storm said. "If there is a way to rescue them, he will find it. He will make contact with a member of FOH who knows what happened to them."
Northstar shut his eyes and looked down. He had taken to the X-men and felt no discomfort in saying what was on his mind with them. "I think I am maybe through with caring about anyone ever again. Almost everyone I ever loved his dead. We are cursed! We mutants are so cursed!"
"We are not cursed," Storm said.
Jubilee had joined Rogue in crying. Tears now streaked down the young woman's face. "Maybe we are. Look at everything we've been through. Normal people don't-----"
"Yes, look at everything we've been through!" Storm said, emphatically. "Everything we X-men have been through and **survived.** We are survivors and we will get through this. Right now, the Professor is doing everything he can to locate them. He has never failed us before. We will soon be able to channel our sorrow and rage into action."
"But Storm," Northstar began, "we all----." He suddenly stopped talking because he heard a voice speaking directly into his mind. Judging from the looks on the faces of the others in the room, they heard it too. It was Professor X. He wanted to meet right away on the bridge.
Chapter 19
Chapter 21