TWO

Three days after the crash of flight 703, days which were filled with images of the dead passengers, updated lists of deceased civilians and round the clock coverage of the investigation by the NTSB and the FBI, Doctor Henry McCoy could feel his despair rising. With every talkback radio host calling for vengeance, and every newspaper running editorials about the ever-increasing threat of domestic mutant terrorism, McCoy felt his confidence in humanity fall.

The word from the White House was that a war posture was being adopted. The threat of Genosha was increasing, the military men said, and Genosha being a country that knows no freedom and allows terrorism to reign, they had no right to oppose those ideals in America. But McCoy was in a rare position to help stem the flow of pro war rhetoric that seemed to be pouring out of Capitol Hill. As advisor to President Reynolds on Mutant Issues, McCoy had the ear of the most powerful man on the planet. His post within the administration was appointed because of his high profile status as a voice of reason within highly conservative times, and because the President had been an old school friend. Of course Reynolds did not know McCoy was a mutant, but McCoy seen that as beside the point. There never seemed to be a good time to bring it up.

McCoy sat in the back of a federally funded town car, which waved two miniature American flags from its hood, marking him as a political care package. The town car glided through the rain slicked streets of Washington DC and McCoy stared out of the window, plotting his moves. The President had summoned him to "sound some things out", which almost certainly meant that Reynolds was deeply considering the tides of war and sought the counsel of good ol' Hank McCoy. The president was a man whose power was only as potent as the men who surrounded him, and it was on the veracity of his advisors that he relied heavily. Reynolds was a very canny politician, and he had the rare talent of predicting the mood of the people and altering his policies to suit. Reynolds was also popular and, as the last election proved, unbeatable. A war was not something that Reynolds could seriously consider if he wanted to retain that level of popularity. In truth, wartime presidents were rarely returned to power even if their war effort was successful. McCoy could at least rely on Reynolds considering the plight of those that had served before him in similar situations.

Hank McCoy could only put forth his opinion to the president. He knew that General Peter Greenblatt would be present at the meeting, and he knew that Greenblatt was a supporter of a war in Genosha. Greenblatt had served in every major military operation in the last twenty years and he commanded a great amount of respect. He was one of a depressing majority of influential people to expound the need for America to go to war to show the world she was not just for show. The hope for diplomacy to win out was fading, and Hank McCoy knew that this meeting would be his last chance before the president gave the green light and took his proposal to congress. He needed to convince the president that a show of force in this case was not only unnecessary but foolhardy. As one of Charles Xavier's former students, and later as an X-man, McCoy learned valuable lessons about how a war should be fought, and when one should be fought at all.

The car began crunching up the gravel drive that led to the White House and his driver was out of the car and opened the door for him before he had time to realise his mind had been wandering. He stood up and his seven-foot frame shadowed the other man. He adjusted his glasses and smiled at the chauffeur. "Thank you David. I will call you when I'm ready to leave."

"Yes sir."

An immaculately dressed woman with iron-colored hair met him outside the doors, and extended both hands towards the big man. Hank gave her a warm hug and beamed down at her. "Lillian Hopegood. How are you?"

"The better for seeing you, doctor." Lillian Hopegood had been President Reynolds' personal assistant since he was governor of Louisiana. She was hard headed, strong willed, and fiercely intelligent, and she was good at her job. Hank suspected that the President was actually afraid of Lillian, but then, he could see why.

"How has everything been?" He asked as they moved through the huge doors flanked by secret service men. Lillian hooked her arm around his and sighed.

"General Greenblatt has been lobbying the Prez on this whole Genosha debacle. As you know, James is reluctant to commit troops until he has been convinced that Genosha poses a threat to national security. What Greenblatt doesn't grasp, what he doesn't understand, is that we could very easily seek our retribution by going into Genosha and finding those responsible. Let the UN deal with Genosha's regime."

Hank smiled down at her. "Have you told him how you feel?"

"Only every chance I get, and usually he would listen to me. But Greenblatt and a few other key people in high places like the idea of capitalizing on this. Me, I think the good general is sizing up the oval office and likes what he sees."

"You really think so?"

She gave him a 'you know better' look. "Greenblatt is not a stupid man, Hank. He's a political animal and he knows an opportunity when he sees one."

Hank considered this and saw the truth in her words. They walked in silence for a few moments and then Hank said, "What about Greenblatt's opposition? Have they been lobbying just as hard?"

She nodded and frowned. "There have been a few vocal opponents. The Vice President is not convinced that war is necessary, secretary to the treasury Ritten is unimpressed by Greenblatt's show, and of course there's you."

They reached the door to the outer office, which housed Lillian's desk, and Hank took a seat while Lillian picked up the phone on her desk. "Dr. McCoy is here to see you, Mr. President," She said briskly. "I'll send him in momentarily." She hung up the phone and she waited until Hank was on his feet again before squeezing both of his huge hands in hers and smiling up at him broadly. "Just say what you feel, Hank," She said. "Because lord knows you may not get another chance."

Hank nodded and followed her as she opened the door to the inner sanctum of the Oval Office. She announced his arrival and inquired if anyone would like coffee. Hank accepted but the other two men in the room, President James Reynolds, and General Peter Greenblatt, declined. Lillian closed the door behind Hank and the President rose from his chair. "Doctor McCoy, thankyou for coming. Take a seat. I believe you've already met General Greenblatt?"

Hank nodded and shook hands with both men before taking a seat in front of the President's huge desk. "You're looking good, James," He said to the President, more for Greenblatt's benefit than his own. "I see you've been taking squash lessons again."

Reynolds wagged a finger at McCoy and smiled. "I'll beat you yet. You're just too damn quick for a man your size."

The two men laughed comfortably while Greenblatt shuffled through his notes. Greenblatt was a battle tank of a man with no neck, graying hair and a blunt, square head. He looked indistinguishable to any military man that he had under his command with the exception of more medallions and stripes on his shoulders. The President sat and faced the two men, hands resting on an ink blotter before him, fingers laced.

"The General and I have been discussing the Genosha issue, Hank," Reynolds said gravely. "And it looks as if the Genoshian regime has chosen to ignore our requests to turn over those members of the MLF responsible for the attack on flight 703. They have disavowed all knowledge of their whereabouts, which is troubling."

Hank nodded, fearing where this was going. "As I understand it, the Genoshian government called for the execution of key MLF members prior to the terrorist attack here," He said slowly. "It shows that they are not harbouring them, at least."

Greenblatt leaned forward now, arms resting on his knees to affect a casual air that he did not possess. "The Genoshian military regime cannot be trusted. After all, they trained members of the MLF in the first place. They gave them the weapons, they honed their skills. They may as well have planted the bomb aboard that flight."

McCoy was slow to respond at first. He was formulating his words before speaking. "While it is true that the Genoshian government had recruited several key members of the MLF into its army, it was not out of some equal opportunity recruitment drive, General. The MLF was part of the Genoshian mutate scheme, which included the rounding up of known mutants and performing mind altering operations on them to make them perfect fighting machines. The Genoshian government had the flawed perception that they could control their minds as well as their mutant powers, and therefore would make their army unstoppable."

The President nodded. Hank continued. "The Genoshians abandoned the mutate program in the early nineties after years of sanctions imposed by the UN. When the mutates were released, they formed the MLF."

"Thankyou for the history lesson doctor McCoy," Greenblatt snapped. "The MLF's history is quite well documented."

"The point is, General Greenblatt, that ever since the mutates were released, the Genoshian military have been hunting them down and killing them. The Genoshian government also tampered with some of the mutates powers. In some instances, they managed to amplify them to a staggering degree. Such fugitives are dangerous in the eyes of the authorities because they pose a substantial risk to the regime's tenuous hold on power. To say that the Genoshians are withholding the exact whereabouts of the MLF is untrue; they want to find them as much as we do."

President Reynolds sat back in his chair and studied Hank for along moment. Reynolds was a strikingly handsome man with graying blonde hair and a smile that dazzled the public. He was an old football quarterback and he was used to people being drawn to him. He looked younger than his fifty two years, but his sometimes conservative leanings betrayed an old money upbringing. "We all know that the Genoshian regime has been responsible for some of the most shocking human rights violations the world has ever seen. For years, through the economic sanctions we have placed upon them, and through trade sanctions imposed upon them by the UN, the world has been trying to affect a change in that region. But the shocking loss of life on American soil has been this regime's death knell. If they will not comply with our demands to hand over whatever intelligence they have on the MLF, then we will have no choice but to move in. And I'm not entirely convinced that even if we did go in there that we would find anything." The weight of the President's last few words seemed to come down squarely on his shoulders and he slumped into his chair. "General Greenblatt."

"Yes, mister President?"

"We will talk more on this subject later, but right no I need to have a few words with doctor McCoy. In private."

Greenblatt's face seemed to harden like quick drying cement. His mouth was set into a razor sharp line, but he stood up straight, his back rigid, and saluted the President. Reynolds stood and returned the salute, and watched as Greenblatt stalked out of the office. He turned to Hank after her heard the door click shut, and sighed heavily. "Every word of it is true," He said quietly. "If the Genoshians do not co operate with our request we will have no choice, Hank. I will have to order an attack."

Hank shook his head. "There must be another way. To walk this path right now would be folly. I think you realize it too, Mr. President. The MLF are a force to be reckoned with, and they are much more powerful than the army they once fought alongside. Their powers are all advancing so quickly, much more quickly than a normal mutant at the right developmental level. What that means is that we are dealing with a completely new subspecies, and I can't tell you what to expect if you go in there, all guns blazing."

Reynolds breathed heavily through his nose. "I want to show you something." He pulled a thick file out of a drawer and pushed it across the desk's smooth polished surface towards Hank. "This is what we know about the MLF."

Hank opened the file and took out a stack of glossy photos that had been taken with a telephoto lens and digitally enhanced for clarity. They showed a small group of people dressed in black, getting out of a huge combat green van. The next photo was a close up shot of a tall, tanned man with long red hair pulled up into a pony tail. He was half facing the camera and Hank could make out a tattoo tracing down the length of the man's face. "That man is the leader of the MLF. His name is Fabian Cortez. He was one of the original test subjects in the mutate experiments, and reportedly the last one they let go. All up the Genoshians had held him for almost a decade. We have very little intelligence on the other members. Cortez is our man. The others will fall as soon as we have him."

Hank flipped through the papers silently. There was very little information on Cortez at all. What information they had been able to glean was mostly from the now defunct mutate scheme. The file in Hank's hands was a testament to the atrocities the Genoshian government had visited upon its population, especially those who were born with the X factor, that part of their genetic structure that allows the human body to develop extraordinary powers.

Hank closed the file and returned it to Reynolds. "If you take that information to congress, they will laugh you out of office. There are huge holes in the information you have gathered, and I think any fair minded individual would have a hard time justifying war on the back of it."

The President half smiled then, and nodded. "I knew you'd say that, Hank. This is why I asked you here. I need a favor."

Hank cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward. "A favour? What kind of favour?"

It was at this moment that Lillian re-entered the room with Hank's coffee. Normally the president would have kept talking while she was in the room, as he didn't see the need to hide from a woman he trusted so completely, but on this occasion, the President had stopped speaking and chose to shuffle idly through the paperwork on his desk. He thanked Lillian and waited until she had left before speaking again. "Now Hank, I'm gonna be honest with you. What I'm about to propose to you is a mission that could negate the necessity of war. You see, I don't like our chances of turning anything up when we go in there, all guns blazing, as you so eloquently put it. I don't want to put our fighting men and women through that if it can be avoided."

Hank wasn't sure where this was going. "Can it be avoided, James?" He asked the President, and there passed between the two men a look of deep understanding. The President needed Hank's help to stop the madness from going any further.

"I hope with every fibre of my being that it can," The President replied. He opened a drawer and pulled out another folder, placed it on the desk in front of him, and put a hand over it. "This is the file the secret service has kept on you since you began work as an adviser here. Standard procedure of course, just so we don't get any nasty surprises down the road. Your educational history is well documented, including your prep school in Westchester."

Hank felt the words sink in slowly. He felt his stomach lurch. "Xavier's school for Gifted Youngsters, yes... I attended there before Yale."

The President nodded. "The school was involved in a skirmish with a cult known as the Friends of Humanity last year, around about the same time as an inquiry into the school's operations here in Washington. It was alleged that this school was in fact a training camp for young mutants to harness their power to combat such groups as the Friends of Humanity and Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants. All of this is hearsay of course, but if it were true, Hank…"

"I don't understand what you're asking me."

The President sighed. "Before going any further, I want you to know that this conversation did not happen. I want you to use your influence with Charles Xavier to convince him to send his X-Men into Genosha to find Fabian Cortez. I figure if the Mutates are powerful and have combat training, we should meet them with a similar force head on. Greenblatt is taking steps now to gain enough information he needs to get his proposal through congress. I have stalled on signing off on this but I cannot do so forever. Tell Xavier that if he and his X-Men accept my offer, then funds will be made available to them, and they will have two weeks to find Cortez and bring him back to the states alive. If they are caught or if their mission exceeds the original time frame, I will disavow all knowledge of their mission."

Hank was too stunned to speak. He had never in a million years thought such a thing would be possible. He ran a hand over his face and nodded. "I can take the proposal to him," Hanks said, choosing his words wisely. "But there's no guarantee that he will accept."

The President stood and picked up his phone. "A gesture of good faith then. Of course I would never think of proposing something like this if I didn't have some assurance that the plan would be carried out as ordered." Into the phone, he said, "Lillian, send in Sergeant Summers."

The door opened and Hank McCoy turned to see a tall, thin young man with blonde spiky hair walking towards them, dressed in army greens. He recognized the young man straight away and the shock of his appearance almost rendered him speechless. Well, as speechless as Hank McCoy could ever be. "Oh my stars and Garters," He said under his breath. "Alex Summers."

The President saluted the young man and offered him a seat. "Hank, I believe you already know Sergeant Alex Summers, Codename: Havok."

Hank nodded. He was staring at the younger brother of Scott Summers, his old team mate from Xavier's.

"I bet you're surprised to see me, Hank," Alex said by way of greeting.

"Well, of course I am. Pleasantly surprised, actually, since we all thought you were dead."