Leigh's Fanfiction Archive Stormkeeper's Fanfiction Freedom Chapter 23
Freedom
By Stormkeeper
Chapter 23
Professor X warned us right from the start that there would be days like this,' Jean told herself while taking a rare break. She returned to the overcrowded room that she and Cyclops shared with their children and slumped down onto the bed.
Jean Grey was in the middle of some of the most involved and grueling work she'd ever done. Having connected with the minds of some of FOH's top leadership, Jean had to wade through the hatred they felt and start changing their views. Dealing with them hour after hour, day after day, made Jean tired and stressed to the bone. And although she knew the rational explanations, she still felt stunned and appalled that some people could hate so much.
The door slide aside, and Scott entered with the kids. "Mommy tired," Charlotte observed. The girl bounded onto the bed and into her mother's arms.
"Oh, sweetie, I'll be okay," Jean said. Charlotte's power of empathy was back, Jean having taught her to confine it to those whom she was physically proximate to.
"Maybe you should call it a day," Scott suggested. Jean's mind was too overloaded to feel his concern, though she knew it was there.
Jean shook her head. "It's too early in the day to quit. I just need a little break." She reached for Christopher and took him into her arms. Cuddling with her family would help her recoup --- especially since Scott was being wonderful in taking care of all the "work" that went into being a parent, and letting Jean just have the "enjoyment" part so she could focus on the job at hand.
Later on that day, Jean redoubled her efforts and she discovered something ghastly.
"Right now, there is a meeting going on of FOH's top leadership. Several FOH leaders are attempting to convince the entire organization to make a drastic change to its strategy," Jean said, fighting to keep her voice from trembling.
The X-men (except for Gambit, who was on bridge duty) sat assembled around a table in the main conference room. The table that FOH had used in its largest meeting room on board the ship had been long and rectangular, but the X-men had at one point, years ago, replicated a large round table for them to sit around. "They want to convince FOH to change from a strategy of containment to annihilation," Jean continued. "They want to convince the leadership to introduce some sort of new virus they've engineered---you'll have to excuse me, Hank, I'm a bit fuzzy on the science here----but they've created some sort of virus that can wipe us out. Once a victim is infected, a rapid death will follow."
Around the table, expressions of shock and disgust could be seen in the faces of this group of heros, who had lived through much in their lifetimes.
"Let me guess," Rogue began, "the bastards are all set with some sort of excuse, like sayin' that mutants themselves created the disease or spread it because we're all dirty. Of course they'll make like they got nothin' to do with it."
Jean nodded gravely. "Though they haven't yet worked out the details of the plan. But several higher-ups in FOH want to enact this plan right away----the virus is ready to go."
"What sort of resistance within FOH is there to this plan?" Cyclops asked.
"There is some. Not everyone is sure they want to enact this plan."
"Just think about it," Hank began, his mind whirling. "A virus can easily spread out of control, infecting mutant and human alike. Unless FOH scientists are so certain that this will 'only' hurt mutants, they could unwittingly be facing their own Armageddon."
"And the destruction of everyone on earth," Cyclops said. "If this does ever get out of control."
"We might be seeing the fulfillment of Apocalypse's dream," Nightcrawler commented.
"That might be our one saving grace," Jean began. "Part of the opposition within FOH to this plan is that they do fear for their own safety. Although their own scientists are saying it will 'only' hurt mutants, not everyone in FOH leadership is really secure with that. FOH does horrible things but they're not all completely stupid either, and they know this plan could turn on them."
"Viruses sometimes mutate," Hank said. "Would that not that be the ultimate irony, if it were to mutate and then harm non-mutant humans?"
Jean nodded. "There's other resistance inside FOH too. Not all of them want to wipe us out," she said, emphasizing the words. "Not all of them want us mutants to cease existing."
"'Course not," Wolverine said. "The bastards get their kicks from havin' someone beneath them. We give 'em a reason to live and something to do with their lives."
"Exactly," Jean said. "We give them a purpose. Not to mention," she added, "that they're basically using mutant women as their own sex slaves. They kill all mutants off, and they've lost people to kick around and they've lost their source for sex." Jean's voice carried the outrage she felt, after having been inside these men's minds for too long over the past few days. "Of course," she added, "if they do wipe us out, some FOH leaders are looking forward to going back to tormenting other groups instead--- like immigrants, gays, racial minorities, Jews, and Muslims. Given the political tone in the US and other countries, maybe they'll have a green light from the government on targeting those groups."
"FOH controls most of the world's governments anyway," Bobby added.
The room was silent for a bit, each lost in their own thoughts. "So what's the plan here?" Panda asked. She touched a hand to her midsection, fearing for her unborn child.
Jean took a breath. "What I believe I need to do---to dedicate myself to, no matter what it takes---is changing their minds and convincing them all that this is a terrible plan. They must not go through with this!"
Storm nodded. "Yes, I agree, Jean. And keep planting the thought and idea in their heads that this plan could easily turn on them and the virus could infect non-mutant humans at some point, even if they do not think it will do so now. I think that's our best chance at swaying them---the self-preservation argument --- since I agree with you that, if mutants were all destroyed, they would just go back to hunting down other groups."
"The bastards'll always find a scapegoat," Wolverine muttered.
Jean stood up. "Are we all agreed?" They were. "Then I must re-commit every waking hour to this. And I already hear the ticking of the clock. If you'll excuse me, I must get back to work now."
Jean turned and swiftly left the room. The group all understood that there was simply no time to waste. "What if she fails?" Wolverine asked.
Cyclops looked around the table, his heart pounding at the fact that his two children were aboard this ship. Yet he knew what the response needed to be. "If she fails, then we need to find another way to stop them. If it means a beam-down and an all-out attack on FOH, then we gotta do it. We could be looking at the end of all life on earth if we let those maniacs release this virus."
"We have X-men nearby."
"How near?"
"It's hard to say….a few days, at maximum warp, perhaps."
"Figures. We're not too far from earth. I'm sure they're on another rescue mission."
Psylocke and Marrow sat on the bridge of their starship. The vessel, which they'd stolen from FOH, had been renamed Vengeance. The two avengers loved having the freedom of a spacious starship again after the confinement of their cramped shuttle for so long. They now had a crew of sorts, too. Two of the mutant women who FOH had brought with on board had elected to remain with Psylocke and Marrow. The other nine women FOH had abducted had taken the option of boarding a cloaked shuttle which Marrow programmed to fly directly to An'zhina.
"Can you find anything else about them?" Marrow asked. "They know we're here? I sure don't want Xavier forcing us aboard his ship again."
Psylocke concentrated and continued her mental scan of the crew on board Freedom. "Interesting….Xavier's not with them. The only telepath they have with them is Jean Grey….and she's not about to sense us. Her powers are about as stressed and overworked as they've ever been. She's under tremendous strain."
"That so? That are they planning?" Marrow asked.
"That's what I'm going to try to find out."
I was sitting on the bridge when a blip appeared on a rarely-used section of the main monitor. The signal denoted an occurrence that I couldn't ever recall aboard Freedom. Maybe we were all a bit on edge, but I immediately flipped a switch to put the ship on yellow alert, and I beeped Storm and Cyclops too. Within seconds, the two of them plus Wolverine bounded onto the bridge.
"What is it?" Wolverine asked.
I pointed at the screen. "We're receiving a signal from another starship. It's a request for us to accept a transmission."
"How could another vessel even know we're out here---we're cloaked!" Cyclops said. "Unless they can read our cloak."
"It's gotta be some sort of trick," Wolverine said.
The three of them debated back and forth what to do. Suddenly Storm stopped talking and got a look on her face----a far away look, as if she wasn't in the room with us anymore. "What is it, Storm?" Wolverine asked. He sounded, I couldn't help but to notice, concerned.
"It….it's Psylocke. She and Marrow are nearby," Storm said. "They're the ones who've been trying to contact us through subspace."
"What do they want?" Cyclops asked.
"I will try to find that out. Wait just a moment." Storm then shut her eyes and appeared to concentrate on, apparently, receiving the psychic message that Psylocke was sending directly to her.
"They want to help," Storm finally said. "Psylocke says she's tapped Jean Grey's mind and those of the FOH leaders on earth. She and Marrow recognize how grave the situation on earth is, and Psylocke wants to use her powers in concert with Jean's to help sway the FOH."
So that was that. Psylocke would work from the shuttle she shared with Marrow---wherever it was----and join Jean in their telepathic work. I suppose I don't need to say that I fervently hoped they would succeed.
It would be hard to imagine if FOH were to go through with their scheme. It still blew my mind. A virus engineered to wipe out all mutant life. Well, on the other hand, why was I acting surprised? They always said "extermination" was their goal. Those of us living on An'zhina, and Psylocke and Marrow, could end up being the only mutants left…in the world, in the galaxy, anywhere.
And as Hank and the others pointed out, what if the virus mutated and ended up killing up non-mutants too? That would be it for all human life on earth. The 300 or so of us on An'zhina would be all that's left of the human race. The whole mess just made me crazy and was too frightening to think about.
Commander Klinsky knew that he was going to miss this. That thought flashed through his mind as he dressed himself after some time spent with Emma Frost. He was going to miss making use of her sexual favors once all of the wretched mutants were wiped out. He'd miss the other mutant women too, though Emma was by far the best.
Still, it was a good plan, Klinsky had to admit. A genetically engineered virus guaranteed to kill within hours any mutant exposed to it, and guaranteed to not harm normal humans. The FOH scientists assured the leadership that once the virus was exposed to the air, water, and the entire planet's ecosystem, it would destroy any new mutants who were born. The planet would be rid of the scourge of mutantkind forever.
I will miss this though,' he thought again. His life had been given meaning and purpose around first seeking out and harassing mutants, and then later, when FOH took control, being able to rape, torture and dismember mutants. Klinsky himself had recently been promoted to Commander; he had ascended high in the FOH pecking order. Belonging to this organization gave his life such a sense of purpose.
Klinsky, however, was not the brightest man and he tended to not think too far into the future. So he did not spend much time pondering the question of what he might live for, once mutants were wiped out. When it came time to vote on the proposition, Klinsky was going to vote in its favor. The top FOH leadership were set to meet in three days' time and cast their ballots on this question.
Klinsky didn't know if Emma was aware of the scheme or not. Powerful telepath that she was, Klinsky mused, she was only allowed very limited amounts of time without her collar in which she could actually use her powers. So she couldn't find out about the plan through her powers, and how else would she? She slept with most of the high-ranking FOH leaders in this area, but they were instructed to never discuss their plans with her. However, Klinsky was not fully aware of Emma's resourcefulness outside of her powers.
Klinsky then walked back to his quarters. The night was a dark one, it was quite late and he had a full day ahead of him. After using his card to unlock the door to his room, he began to undress and prepare for bed. Tomorrow morning he was scheduled to give a performance review to one of his direct reports, and then oversee a training session for several new recruits. And he had to remember to ask Lieutenant Johnson about the status of the weapons upgrade for their new line of tanks. Klinsky also had to call another weapons supplier and resolve a few service issues, and then meet with FOH's "government relations" committee to wrap up FOH's agenda for the next session of Congress. It would definitely be a busy day for the commander.
Suddenly, inexplicably, the Commander's thoughts began to shift off track. Somehow his mind drifted both slowly and gently, but also with force. His thoughts were set back onto the track towards the vote that would be taking place in three days. Without him even being aware of it, a few suggestions were placed inside of his mind.
What was I thinking?' Klinsky asked himself as he showered and shaved the next morning. If all mutants were wiped out, his life would have no meaning. What would he dedicate himself too? Where would he even earn a living – after all, FOH paid him a good salary. But that wasn't even the main argument that subtly, but persistently, nagged at him. The virus could spread out of control. None of their scientists had even addressed the possible long-term effects the virus might have on normal humans. For all they knew, in 20 years' time, it could cause cancer….or worse. Klinksy did want to have kids someday.
"I'm voting against this plan!" Klinsky told one of his teammates over breakfast.
"So what do you plan to name the baby?" Hector Rendoza asked Hank and Panda one day as the three worked in sick bay. "Have you talked about that yet?"
"We've talked about it," Panda said. Just from her tone, Hector guessed he had touched on a sensitive subject.
"We have not yet reached a conclusion," Hank said.
Panda fought the urge to roll her eyes; she was not pleased with the stalemate she and her husband had reached on this matter. She herself favored a strong, powerful name such as Alexander or Jason or Nicholas or Eric. Or a slightly unusual name, such as Derrick (which admittedly sounded similar to Eric'; that combination of sounds just appealed to her.)
Hank, on the other hand, was hooked on the idea of naming the boy Robert. As in, naming him after Bobby Drake. Aside from the fact that Panda was not exactly crazy about the name Robert, there also was the fact that Bobby Drake was not her favorite person in the world either. Oh, she wouldn't go so far as to say that she disliked him….she didn't. She was okay with Bobby. But to name her son after him? At the same time, Panda felt bad for having such sour feelings. Hank only meant well, and what was wrong with naming the child after a long-term, dear friend?
Part of Panda's irritation was in the sense that she was going to lose the naming battle. Hank indulged her in so many other ways, often going along with sex when she knew that he wasn't really in the mood, Panda knew it was her turn to compromise a bit.
"Thanks again for teaching me all this," Hector said, wanting to change the topic.
"It is our pleasure," Hank said. "You are a swift learner and very competent in all areas."
"You're really doing great, Hector. Thanks for wanting to learn," Panda added.
Wraith had asked Hank, Panda, and Shaman to train him as a medical assistant. They could always use additional help in the infirmary, and Wraith had wanted the additional responsibility. Having another pair of skilled hands in sick bay would someday prove to be a blessing, especially if and when the X-men resumed rescue missions. Hector was eager to learn and eager to please, glad to have something else to occupy his time. Hector trained for combat too, but one could only spend so many hours in the Danger Room per day. However, Hector's progress as a fighter was easy to track---the size of his muscles could easily be seen through his skin. The muscles were increasing in size and strength.
The former FOH solider Mark had also asked to be trained as a medical assistant, and Hank, Panda, and Shaman were spending a few hours with him every day.
"How often did you say should the tricorders be tested?" Hector was asking.
"I have them on a biannual testing schedule," Hank said. "Anything more frequent than that would be superfluous."
"If you ever need help translating Mr. Genius's vocabulary," Panda began, patting Hank's stomach affectionately, "just let me know. I consider myself fairly bright but he still tosses out some words I can't comprehend."
"Your kid will be a great linguist," Hector said.
Panda smiled. Wraith was really opening up more. Of course,' she thought, 'I don't have much to compare him against.' She knew that when Hector had first come aboard Freedom, she had spent very little time with him. She had all the rescued mutants and their medical needs to attend to. And then once they'd returned to An'zhina, she had the added task of preparing for the wedding, along with dealing with Colossus's death and everything else. Panda hadn't really made the time to socialize with Hector. But now that she and Hank saw Hector every day, they were developing a friendship.
And Panda viewed Hector's appearance as fascinating. So did Hank. The couple knew that there were many who looked upon Hector's appearance as ghastly, but neither Hank nor Panda did.
During one of Hector's first days in the lab, Panda had simply blurted out, "Hector, can we….look at you?" She and Hank had discussed wanting to just drink in Wraith's appearance and study him. But it would be rude to stare….so Panda had simply taken the risk and asked. They wanted the chance to just look at Hector, observe the muscles and tissues and bones functioning beneath the luminous skin's surface. Although feeling some trepidation, Hector had agreed to Panda's request. "Fascinating…..beautiful…..brilliant…." Panda and Hank had murmured as they unabashedly looked.
Unbeknownst to Panda or Hank, that day Hector had returned to his quarters and cried with happiness.
"No more mutants! No more mutants!"
Those were the words that Jim Lorring had chanted over and over again at FOH rallies, years ago. Back then, the organization was comprised of a minority of Americans with little real power, and Jim had been a college student. Now FOH controlled most of the governments of the world, and Jim was a renowned scientist, one of FOH's highest ranking scientists. His findings had been crucial to the discovery of the virus.
Of course another FOH scientist, someone who outranked him within FOH, was taking and receiving most of the credit for the virus. It infuriated Jim but there was little he could do as the other man was above him on the totem pole. He contented himself with the knowledge that his work had directly led to this wonderful thing…this virus which was poised to destroy the pestilence that was mutantkind. Soon he would be able to sleep better at night, knowing his wife and children would be safe from destructive mutants forever.
FOH was set to vote the next day on whether or not to release the virus, and Jim couldn't wait to cast his ballot. He knew the vote would be close, too, as many of those he'd spoken with said they opposed the plan.
The little voice began speaking to him sometime between dinner and bedtime. Returning home from the lab, as Jim did not live on or near a Mutant Containment Center, he was greeted by his wife and children. Jim's wife noticed that he was oddly quiet during dinner. The little voice was especially relentless when he lay down to sleep.
This virus could kill every living thing on earth….The tests have not been as comprehensive as they could've….We cut short several rounds of safety testing when General Smith heard of the virus and got excited…..There is always a chance that the virus could change and spread….For all I know, my kids could be hurt by this someday.'
Jim boarded an FOH jet bound for the meeting in which the votes would be cast, his mind changed. And yet he now knew that wasn't enough. The virus had to be destroyed, as did all the computer files detailing the engineering of the virus.
The FOH scientist was not the only person hearing voices in his head during the evening. On board Freedom, Wolverine tucked in the sheet and blanket that covered his bed, preparing it for his bedtime. He then stripped off his uniform and his underwear, and got under the covers. He had been there for only a few seconds when a gentle voice "spoke" to him, calling his name.
"Who is it?" Wolverine asked, sitting bolt upright.
Don't speak your answers. Just think them. It's Psylocke.
Wolverine would never be fully comfortable with this telepathic stuff. The thought of someone speaking into his head gave him the willies. Somehow, even though she was speaking to him using her telepathy, Psylocke's "voice" sounded like itself….except it sounded like her old self, flirty and frolicsome rather than the belligerent avenger she had become.
"What is it, Psylocke?" he asked out loud. He then thought those words, and added the thought, Shouldn't you be workin' on FOH?
I am quite tired now, Logan. I spent about 12 hours today doing just that.
How's it goin'?he "asked", still unused to this method of communication.
I think we will win this one. Jean and I have located and reached out to most of the men who will be casting the votes.
That's good. So what didja want, Betsy? You ain't speakin' into my mind 'cause you wanna chat.
Actually, I want you, Logan. I want you. Please, please….come to my ship and make love to me. Or I'll come to yours, if you want. It has been so long since I've had a man, let alone one as renowned in the bedroom as you.As she communicated with him, she could sense his emotions as well. Psylocke sensed it had now been a long time since Logan had had a woman and that he craved one very badly. Pleaseshe continued. Please. I promise I'll make you feel so good.She flooded his mind with sensual thoughts and a few images of what she hoped they would do together.
Just upon hearing her tone, Wolverine stiffened. Yes, it had been too long. Way too long for someone who loved sex. And he was too proud to go back to Storm and beg her to take him back though that was what he dearly wanted, what he wanted more than anything. But he couldn't do it. Right now he wanted nothing more than to spend the evening making love to a beautiful woman who loved sex as much as he did. His deliberation lasted only a few seconds.
Besides, he knew that back on An'zhina, Angel still had to have some feelings for Psylocke. There would be a measure of satisfaction gained in taking his former girlfriend, especially since Angel now had Sara Grey in his arms.
I'll beam you aboard FreedomWolverine responded. He felt a small measure of distrust of Psylocke and decided this would be preferable, rather than him beaming off Freedom.
I can send the coordinates to your bridge. Tell me when you're there and you're ready.
His loins already aching, Wolverine pulled on his shorts and a robe, and headed for the bridge. His pulse sped up and he increased his walking pace. Wolverine had no idea who currently was on duty but as he strode down the halls, he had to hope that it would be someone who would give him no grief for this. Had to hope it was someone with a weak will, someone whom he could convince one way or another. Whatever it took, he was getting Psylocke on board this ship and having sex with her. The blood pounded through his veins. Every urge and every instinct demanded it, and if he encountered any trouble from whoever was on bridge duty, he would use whatever means to get his way, even if it meant unsheathing his claws and fighting.
And he really hoped it wouldn't be Storm.
The doors to the bridge slide aside. Dani Moonstar sat at the captain's chair.
"Hi, Wolverine," she said.
Wolverine smiled. He liked Dani. And he knew she would not give him any trouble. "Dani, I gotta do somethin' right now," he said, stepping directly up to the console in front of the captain's chair. "I'll explain it all to you tomorrow. Right now, I gotta say that this ain't gonna hurt anyone on the ship or put us at any risk. But I gotta do this. You trust me?"
Dani looked at Wolverine, and blinked. Whatever he was up to, he looked so determined that a speeding train wasn't going to stop him; she could easily sense that. And she did trust him (she liked him too---he did a fantastic job training her and never treated her as anything other than an equal.) Besides, he was her superior in the X-men hierarchy and though Moonstar didn't give much weight to rank and privilege, she did recognize this.
"I trust you," she said. "Go at it. But I want a full report in the morning."
The second the words were out of Dani's mouth, Wolverine tapped a few buttons and responded to Psylocke's telepathic directions. He then left the bridge and walked back to his room, fighting the urge to run. He did curse, wishing his room weren't so far from the bridge.
At last, Wolverine reached his quarters. The doors slide aside at the touch of a button. Betsy Braddock lay on his bed, stark naked. Wolverine growled. Ripping off his own clothes, he pounced onto the bed.
"Ahhhh, yes….yes, Logan," Betsy breathed as his hands roved her entire body. She spread her legs and he dived down to her core, to eat as if he were a starving man. Wolverine's senses were going crazy---the tastes and smells that he loved so much, the softness of her skin and the curves of her body, the way she moaned and cried out. And she had the same capacity for multiple orgasms as he did. He was in heaven.
The two spent hours making the bedsprings creak, coupling in many different positions. At one point, Wolverine closed his eyes. He wished it were Storm who was sucking him right now, not Psylocke. He wished it was Storm's mouth his tongue had been ravishing a moment ago, not Psylocke's. But closing his eyes did no good. His hyper-senses did not allow him to be fooled; he knew the identity of the woman before just from her scent, just from the feel of her skin.
Psylocke beckoned him to lay on his back this time and she mounted him. His hands fondled her breasts, Wolverine still wishing the full peaks overflowing his palms belonged to Storm. Wolverine again closed his eyes, though the groans coming from the woman's mouth as she thrust unmistakably belonged to Psylocke. Not Storm.
For their next bout, Wolverine flipped her onto her back and plunged into her. They continued on for hours. When both were too exhausted for any more, they panted together on the bed, trying to recover their strength. Wolverine's healing factor helped him.
"You gave me the only decent reason to ever consider returning to the X-men," Betsy said. "Once the vote is taken and FOH decides against the plan, I'll regret when Marrow and I fly off, away from you."
"If I'm ever near you again, darlin…..look me up."
"I will do so. Damn, you're good."
Wolverine bit his tongue. He wanted to ask Better than Angel?' but decided against it. He knew he had to be. Plus he didn't want to ever appear insecure.
The two rested for a while longer. Finally, Psylocke said, "I better get back to my ship."
Wolverine nodded, slid off the bed, and donned his underwear and a robe. "I'll beam you over, darlin.' Jus' like before—stay here and I'll do it from the bridge."
He walked down the hallways, back to the bridge. His journey to the bridge hours ago had been frenzied, desperate and aching. His body was now sated and he began to feel mellow. Although as he continued to walk, he knew that the contentment he was experiencing was only a physical one. Emotionally there was a harrowing hollowness, an emptiness that battled against his pride.
When the doors to the bridge slid aside, Wolverine could not help but to gasp. Moonstar's shift apparently had ended…he now realized it had indeed been hours ago.
Storm now sat at the captain's chair.
Storm whirled her chair around to see who had entered the bridge. "Hello, Logan," she said calmly. She then added, "Is anything wrong?"
Storm's heart skipped a beat. Was Wolverine coming to see her, in the middle of the night? Why else would he be here, clad only in his robe? Maybe he was going to sit down with her and tell her that he missed her, couldn't live without her. He was going to take her in his arms, Storm mused, and tell her that he really loved her, and that ending it had been a terrible mistake. Here he was at last. The Goddess had finally answered her prayers. Storm began to smile warmly.
Her smile faded. Judging from the expression on Logan's face, something was amiss. Seriously amiss. "Is anything wrong?" she asked gently.
"No….No, darlin', not at all. I, uh….uh, there's something I need to do."
Storm's previous excitement was fading into disappointment and anxiety. It was not every day that one saw Logan trip over words. His face displayed a hint of redness, his eyes worry. "What is it, Logan?"
"It's uh….uh, look, Storm---I can't explain it right now. There's, uh, something on the bridge I gotta do." He remained standing near the door, not approaching the captain's chair. Storm did note that his eyes darted towards the console in front of her chair.
"What is it that you need to do?" she asked, keeping her voice calm as always.
"I'll tell you later. I can't tell you right now."
"Tell me this—is everything ok? Are you in any danger, or is the ship?"
"No. No, not at all. There's just something I gotta do using the ship's controls."
"You have me very worried, Logan. Are you certain that everything is alright? You look disturbed."
"Storm, I swear to you that everything's alright," he said, with passion. His voice took on a softer tone as he asked, "You trust me, don't you?"
"I would trust you with my life," she said, with a hint of fervor. "Alright, Logan. Do what you need to do, but you will make good on your promise to explain it to me later." That last phrase was spoken firmly, with no question that it was a command and not a plea.
Wolverine nodded and approached the console. As he neared, Storm then knew. No one's senses were as keen as Logan's, but she could smell the sex on him. Her main question then was who?.
Wolverine pressed a few buttons and then turned towards the door. "Thank you, Storm," he said quietly, not making eye-contact.
Storm, her heart low, could think of no reply. She nodded in response, and he exited the bridge. Storm then turned to the console and in a few seconds flat, punched up the log. Wolverine had beamed someone from his quarters onto a nearby vessel. Hours earlier, when Moonstar was on duty, Logan had beamed someone from a cloaked vessel into his quarters.
Of course. Psylocke. None of the women on board the ship were available to him, and Psylocke was nearby. She had made moves on him before. Storm clenched a fist and held it against her breast. This was almost too much to bear.
Psyclocke was beamed back onto the bridge of the ship she and Marrow had renamed Vengeance. She was clad in exactly what she'd been wearing when she departed the ship---nothing.
Marrow was sitting on the bridge, slumped into the captain's chair and half-asleep. She woke up when she saw Psylocke and raised an eyebrow or two. "I take it you had fun," she said flatly.
"Lots of," Psylocke said, beaming. "Goodnight," she called as she walked towards the bridge's doorway and headed off to her own room. Marrow couldn't resist taking a peek at Psylocke's retreating backside. She felt a little tug of desire. Lately Marrow had noticed that she was again occasionally feeling the stirrings of sexual arousal----those feelings that had lain dormant since her abominable experience with FOH but they had been slowly resurfacing.
"Wolverine, you damn lucky bastard," she muttered to the empty room.
Chapter 22
Chapter 24