Jon slammed through the door to sickbay, but skidded to a halt when he
nearly ran down an orderly carrying a piece of equipment. For a moment,
sickbay looked like the middle of a full-scale war, but after a few
moments, he realized it was only Phlox, several assistants, and what
seemed like half of security.
Summers lay on the biobed outside the main scanner and Phlox frowned at the readings above the bed as if they'd personally insulted his professional expertise.
"This man is unconscious," Phlox shouted as a guard bumped into him. "I hardly believe he is in any condition to attack me."
"Lieutenant Reed said--"
"You are in my way," Phlox said. "I cannot properly treat my patient with all of you hovering."
Jon decided it was time to intervene. "It's okay. Do as the doctor says."
"Yes, sir." The security guards all stepped out of the way, allowing various orderlies to swoop in.
Phlox didn't even acknowledge the captain, muttering furiously to Liz Cutler, who ran to the nearest console and started tapping away. Jon wanted to ask questions, but contented himself with studying the man on the biobed from the safe vantage point of the doorway.
Honestly, Summers looked terrible. He was so still, Jon might have thought he was dead if Phlox wasn't still working, and his face was pale and drawn. In fact, he looked underfed in general. Jon frowned. Why did he still have those red sunglasses on?
Phlox whirled around. "I need to talk to one of the other visitors. Find out if one of them knows anything about this man's medical history."
Everyone looked at Jon, who paused for a moment, indecisive. Then he nodded at the nearest guard, Crewman Soong. "Do it. Bring someone here. Fast."
She nodded and dashed out the door. It seemed an interminable wait, with Phlox running tests and looking anxious, but finally the glass door opened and Soong entered with the young woman.
Jon's heart went out to her, with her wide eyes and hands clenched by her side. When she saw Summers lying on the biobed, she gasped and put a hand to her mouth, and the crowd seemed to make her even more nervous.
"Thank you for coming," Jon said quietly, trying not to spook her. "My doctor needs your help to help your friend."
"He's my teacher," she said firmly, looking up at him through a curtain of long brown hair.
"Okay, your teacher. What's your name?"
"Katherine Pryde. But everybody calls me Kitty."
"Nice to meet you, Kitty." Now that she seemed less likely to have hysterics, he glanced at the doctor, who looked ready to explode. "Now let's see if you can tell Dr. Phlox what he needs to know."
"I'll try," she said. "I help Dr. McCoy sometimes."
As soon as she was in range, Phlox started firing questions at her. Fortunately, she seemed to understand what he was asking, which was good, because Jon was lost after she said something about "brain damage." Within moments, the two were huddled over a console and she was pointing to things and talking about "X factors" and "UV conversions". Jon resumed staring at the stranger, hoping he wasn't going to die.
"That's it!" Phlox said. "We need a broad-spectrum UV emitter now."
"A...right." Jon turned and punched the comm button. "Archer to Engineering."
"Go ahead, sir."
The bright light got Scott's attention first. No, he thought, I refuse to believe in that bright light you're supposed to see when you're dying. Anything but that.
"Mr. Summers?" a voice called. "Please open your eyes."
Open my eyes? he wondered. What if I don't want to see the tunnel?
"Maybe if you stopped shining the light in his face," another voice responded.
Kitty? Maybe he wasn't dead after all.
The light dimmed and Scott experimented with his eyelids, finding--to his great surprise--that they opened. He blinked a few times, pleased with this sign of progress.
"He's moving!" Kitty said.
"Mr. Summers," the same unidentified voice said again, "how are you?"
"Like death warmed over," he croaked, squinting. Ah, it was the captain talking to him.
"I am not surprised," the doctor said from behind him. Scott craned his neck around and the doctor obligingly moved where he could be seen. "You were in rather grave danger, until Ms. Pryde and I were able to determine the difficulty."
"You ran out of gas," Kitty said.
"Ah."
Scott nodded sagely until Kitty recognized his sarcasm. "Dr. McCoy explained to me once that you convert sunlight into energy and if you went without sunlight, it might make you sick."
"Very sick, actually," Scott said. "Hank and I tested it once and it wasn't pleasant. I'm surprised I didn't recognize the feeling."
"Well, you were probably busy," Archer said, with an engaging half grin which Scott couldn't help but return.
"I suppose so. But in our test, it took me almost a week to get sick. What would be different here?"
Phlox made an odd sound. "I suspect you used the energy you had stored when you removed yourself and your companions to this ship."
"How the...how did I do that?" Scott stared at the doctor, the bottom dropping out of his stomach. Bad enough he had the capacity to accidentally blow a hole through a mountain, but now he needed to worry about hopping through the multiverse if he wasn't paying attention?
"We are not entirely certain. Sub-commander T'Pol and Commander Tucker were arguing about that when I last saw them."
"Great." A deep breath. "Is there any chance of my accidentally moving anyone right now?"
"We do not think so. It seems to have used up a great deal of your resources, which are not yet recharged. And from what Ms. Pryde describes, you were under attack at the time. Perhaps that condition might be required."
"Right." Scott resisted the urge to groan, put the whole question aside to be dealt with later, and turned to Kitty. "Are Logan and Bobby okay?"
She smiled. "Other than worrying about you, I think so. I went down a few minutes ago to let them know you were okay. Logan growled."
"We'll leave you to recover," the captain said, "although I'm afraid the guards will have to remain over there."
Scott nodded. "I understand. And thank you for saving my life."
When the captain and doctor had moved away, Kitty looked worried. "I'm sorry. I had to tell him about your powers and some of the stuff about mutants. He needed to know."
"Don't be too sorry. You did save my life, after all."
She shuffled her feet. "Well, Ms. Grey wouldn't..." She gasped and looked away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"
"It's okay," he said, throat tight. "You can mention Jean."
Kitty's eyes filled with tears and Scott struggled to sit up. "I'm okay. Really." He put his arms around her and she began to cry, huge tears rolling down her cheeks.
Scott fought back his own tears, hating his weakness, the desire to go fetal and let the universe sort itself out. But duty called as it always did. And he would be strong for Bobby and Kitty, because now they'd seen him break down twice. Today and the day that Jean had died. That was two too many times.
Jon nodded to Phlox. "In your office?"
"Certainly, Captain."
Within moments, they were seated with the door closed. "I take it you haven't had a chance to complete your study."
"Complete it, no. But I believe the data from Mr. Summers and Ms. Pryde should be sufficient for a preliminary report. I can assure you our visitors are human...with some variations."
"Variations? Are they genetically engineered? Are they Khan's superhumans?"
"I do not see any evidence of deliberate genetic manipulation, Captain. As strange as they seem, these changes appear to have occurred naturally."
Jon leaned back in his chair. "Tell me about the changes."
"Apparently, Mr. Summers' body converts several parts of the ultraviolet spectrum, those found in light from Earth's sun, into a physical beam that shoots out of his eyes. Thus, the sunglasses, which restrain the beams."
"You're kidding."
"No, I most certainly am not." Phlox pursed his lips. "The changes to the human genome are fascinating, and nothing like this has ever been reported. Not in our timeline, at least."
Jon swore quietly to himself and took a deep breath. "Malcolm's not going to believe it. Let's go talk to them."
Jon leaned in the doorway, instincts at war, and watched Summers comfort Kitty. Enterprise was all alone in the Expanse, surrounded by deadly enemies, and practicality told him not to trust strange people who appeared out of nowhere and could potentially shoot energy out of their eyes. But Jon's heart went out to the young man who'd nearly died a short while ago and now was trying to calm a frightened young woman.
When Phlox stepped up behind him, Jon took a few steps closer and saw Summers stiffen and then relax. "Captain. Doctor."
Kitty swallowed her tears and stepped away. "Hi."
"Sorry to interrupt, but I think we need to talk. Perhaps Kitty would like to be introduced to some of Dr. Phlox's menagerie."
Summers nodded once and Phlox smiled at Kitty, leading her away as he chattered about Pyrithian bats and Andorian snails. Tilting his head to one side, Summers waited for him to speak.
It was disconcerting, Jon thought, trying to judge a man wearing red sunglasses. They seemed to cover more than just his eyes. Not to mention that the man did a better blank face than Malcolm. He might as well be made of stone, with those sharp edges.
"I don't know what to do with you," Jon said. "You're a living, dangerous weapon and your friend has claws. Phlox says your mutation seems to be natural."
"Logan's claws , but if I'd done this to my eyes on purpose, I'd be able to control it," Summers said, sounding tired. "I would be able to take off my glasses."
"Hmm." Jon sighed, considering his (limited) options.
"I think it might be time for full disclosure about what we can do. It'll either help you trust us or..."
"Or?"
"You'll try to kill us."
Jon shook his head, not sure what he was disagreeing with.
Summers looked around to find Kitty. "Kitty, could you come here?" She started to walk around a biobed. "The short way, please."
Without slowing, she walked through the bed.
Jon felt his jaw drop and Phlox's eyes gleamed as he grabbed a medical tricorder. Kitty looked puzzled. "But I thought--"
"I changed my mind. Thank you for the demonstration."
"Sure. Do you need me to phase through anything else?"
Summers waved at Phlox. "I think he'd like a few demonstrations. It's okay, go on."
Light-headed, Jon watched Kitty put her hand through various solid objects. "I've got to be careful," she said. "I short out electronics if I phase through them."
"Fascinating!"
Summers was solemn when Jon turned back, waiting for a reaction.
"What else can you people do?"
"The military coated Logan's bones with the hardest metal known, adamantium, and he naturally has enhanced senses as well as the ability to heal from injuries incredibly fast. The claws can cut through nearly anything. They're also a present from the military."
The last sentence contained more venom and bitterness than Jon had heard from Summers since his precipitous arrival. He wondered what it was for. "What about the young man?"
"Bobby draws heat out of the air, although we haven't figured out how. But it lets him create, shape, and control ice. He can chill things to an incredibly low temperature."
"Wow."
"If we'd wanted to fight you...we'd have done a great deal of damage. We might even have won."
"I can see that." Jon's mind reeled. "But you didn't."
"No."
"I'm not sure you've made this any easier. I can't really put you back in the brig when she can walk right out of it." Jon started to pace across sickbay, hoping movement would jog his brain. Passing the comm panel, he tapped it. "Archer to T'Pol."
"Go ahead, Captain."
"I need you and Trip in sickbay. And get Malcolm. Oh, have him get someone to bring the other two up from the brig."
"Understood."
Summers was as still as a statue, jaw tense, waiting.
Jon glared at him, angered at the resignation, the implication that Summers knew how he would react. "Damn it, I'm not going to kill you!"
Kitty and Phlox looked up.
"It's okay, Kitty," Summers said, not turning his head, watching Jon.
The tension built until it was nearly a palpable presence. What were these people capable of, why were they here, were they telling the truth?
A whoosh and the door to sickbay opened and Jon finally turned to look. Malcolm had a hand on his phase pistol as he entered, scanning the room for danger. His eyes widened and his fingers closed on the weapon, so Jon turned to see what he was looking at.
Kitty stood with her hand inside a biobed, watching the new arrivals.
"Cap'n, what the--" Trip and T'Pol stood just inside sickbay, the door closing behind them.
"New developments, Trip."
Kitty looked down at her hand, pulled it out of the table and sidled over next to Scott.
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Have you made any progress?"
"Well, we've matched up some of the particles with the ones off that derelict and the cyborg ship on Earth. So, that's good evidence for time travel." Trip grinned at T'Pol, who ignored him.
"What particles?" Summers asked.
"The ones you were leaking like a bucket full of holes. A couple of bridge sensors nearly blew out when you arrived, but it's pretty certain you were the source."
"I believe this eliminates an outside actor such as a transporter," T'Pol said.
The door opened and Trip and T'Pol stepped out of the way to allow Logan and Bobby to enter, followed by two of the MACOs. Logan's eyes flicked briefly to Scott and Kitty, then swept the room. Jon wondered what branch of the military he'd been in, because only someone who'd seen some kind of combat reacted like that.
Bobby looked at everyone and went to stand next to Kitty, who smiled reassuringly at him. Jon was struck by the resilience of youth, moving from tears to helping a classmate in a few minutes. Logan prowled over to stand off to one side, eyeing Malcolm and his phase pistol.
"Well," Jon said, clearing his throat, "I thought it was time to lay everything on the table. Phlox says our visitors don't seem to have deliberate genetic manipulations. They've shown me they had the capacity to do a great deal of damage--not to mention leave the brig--none of which they chose to do."
"If we wanted you dead, you would be," Logan said, voice very cold and brittle. Jon shivered, aware in a way he hadn't been before, that this man was a killer.
"Logan." The one word from Summers seemed to be enough, although they took a moment to glare at each other. But Logan subsided, not responding--except to roll his head until his neck cracked.
That moment should have frightened Jon, should have made him say, 'Sedate them and put them back in the brig.' But it didn't. It was something about the way Bobby was trying to look brave and Kitty had her hands clenched by her side. And something about the way a killer with claws took orders from a young man with dark sunglasses. That young man--his instincts said--could be trusted.
"Until we figure out how to return you to your proper time and place, I'm releasing you from the brig."
"Captain!" Malcolm's voice was anguished.
T'Pol didn't move except for a slight quirk of the lips. "Are you certain that is wise?"
"Not at all. But I'm taking a chance." Malcolm opened his mouth, but Jon shook his head and the armory officer subsided. "Yes, they'll be restricted to nonessential portions of the ship."
"Thank you, sir." The tone was truculent, but Jon chose to ignore that.
"Thank you, Captain," Summers said. It was still impossible to tell what he was thinking, Jon thought with no little annoyance.
"Let's just hope we can find a way to get you home or I'm going to have to explain your continued presence to Starfleet. And I'd rather not do that."
Phlox broke in. "Now that we have these preliminaries complete, I believe my patient needs to eat."
Jon nodded. "Mr. Summers, if you'd care to join me for dinner in my private mess? I think we have some things to discuss."
A calm nod. "Thank you, Captain."
"Malcolm, please escort the other three to the mess hall so they can get something to eat as well." The armory officer, still scowling, led them out. "T'Pol? Trip?"
"I would like to resume my investigations, Captain."
"Have fun, T'Pol, I need something to eat. I'll join ya, Captain."
The atmosphere in the captain's private dining hall was much more relaxed once food had been consumed. Summers had spent every spare moment staring out at the stars, which made Jon like him even more. They made it through the salad and chicken and apple pie on innocuous conversation.
"So, tell me about mutants," Jon said, leaning back in his seat, sipping coffee.
Summers looked up from his cup. "As near as we can tell, mutants with fantastic powers began to appear in limited numbers in the 1950s, perhaps caused by experiments with radioactivity. By the end of the century, our numbers were great enough to make people nervous." It sounded like a speech he'd made many times, perhaps a museum tour.
"Some, like my mentor Charles Xavier, believe humans and mutants should be able to live together. Others, like Magneto, see war between humans and mutants as inevitable. He intends to be on the winning side, no matter what."
Jon sighed. "Sounds familiar. What about this Senator Kelly you mentioned when you arrived?"
Summers twirled his coffee cup, his jaw twitching once before he answered. "He sponsored the Mutant Registration Act. All mutants would have been required to register with the government. It was a 'license to lynch mutants' law."
"Damn," Trip said.
"It's been difficult riding in the center of the road, trying to keep mutants under control as well as the humans trying to kill us. There have been...losses, mistakes."
He stopped abruptly, jaw clenched and hand nearly white on the cup. The pain was so obvious, Jon almost called Phlox before he realized his pain was mental, not physical. He and Trip looked away and waited for him to regain control.
"That's our history in a nutshell," Summers said eventually. "Now, who is Khan?"
"Well, around the same time your mutants were appearing spontaneously," Jon said, "people on Earth, our Earth, were trying to create supermen--stronger, faster, smarter. Then the supermen grew up. It started as isolated terrorist activities, but it was really Khan gaining power.
"Near the end of the century, he and his supermen came out of the closet and began their work in earnest--threats, near-destruction of the Earth, it was a terrible time. It left us with strict laws against genetic manipulation."
Summers shook his head slowly. "Khan probably spouted a lot of garbage about how his people were the next step in evolution and survival of the fittest, right?"
Trip snorted. "That's about right."
"Sounds like Khan and Magneto would have loved each other."
"Please, don't even think about that," Jon said, trying to lighten the mood. "For all we know, you can wish them into the same universe."
"You never know." Summers stared out at the stars, looking uncomfortable. "Did Khan suffer any particular persecution?"
"Not that I know of, why?"
"Magneto...Erik was a Jewish survivor of World War II, of the Holocaust. He saw his parents dragged away to be killed."
"Oh."
"Mm-hmm. He sees the treatment of mutants and the calls for registration as signs that mutants are going to be rounded up in concentration camps to be murdered."
Jon studied Summers, intrigued. "You're afraid he's right."
"Yes." It was little more than a whisper.
Jon and Trip waited.
Rubbing his temple under the glasses, Summers went on. "A few months ago, the school, our school for mutant children, was attacked by the US military and some of the students were kidnapped. Experimented on. I was drugged, brainwashed. I nearly killed...people, before I was stopped."
There was something else, Jon could tell, and it made his stomach roll think there might be something worse than what Summers had already described.
Summers took a few moments to calm down, but eventually he looked up. "But we've moved on, tried to resume our mission of teaching the kids how to control their powers, and monitoring the mutants with less noble goals. It's been difficult." He stopped again.
"What about this Professor Xavier?" Jon asked. "Who is he?"
Summers brightened, an amused smile on his lips. "My mentor and my teacher. He comes from old family money, which let him set up the school."
"Does he have powers too?" Trip asked.
"He's a telepath." Summers sighed. "Extremely powerful."
Trip sat up straight. "A telepath? He reads minds?"
"Yes."
Trip managed to draw back without moving--it was something in the look on his face. "That's...how do you..."
Summers turned toward Trip, obviously wanting him to understand. "The Professor does not read minds uninvited. That's part of why he started the school, so we could develop the ethical aspect of our mutations."
Trip's face twisted. "You can't do that, can you?"
"Trip..."
Summers stayed focused on Trip. "No, I can't. I've told you everything we can do."
Jon sighed. "Trip, cool it." Not for the first time, Jon wished Trip wasn't so excitable. "Telepaths aren't completely unknown here, either."
"Yeah, but I don't want to be near any of them!"
Jon wanted to slam his hands on the table and shout 'You mean, like T'Pol?' but now wasn't the time to deal with another in a long line of Vulcan secrets. "We have enough problems, let's not ask for trouble, okay?"
"Yes, Cap'n." Trip crossed his arms, looking sulky.
Why the hell had becoming a starship captain seemed like a good idea? Jon wanted desperately to roll his eyes, but settled for turning to Summers. "So, he started a school."
"Yes, I was one of his first students." For a moment, a nostalgic smile passed over the man's face, but it went dark. Again, Jon had the feeling something terrible had happened that Summers wasn't ready to share, and Summers shook his head. "We were in the middle of recruiting a new student when we ended up here. We were attacked by members of the mutant opposition and I suppose that must have somehow triggered this new ability of mine. I can only hope the prospective student we left behind was unharmed."
"What was his mutation?"
"Hers, actually. She projected illusions. I don't know what Magneto wants with her."
"What kinds of things do you teach at your school?" Jon asked.
"The normal things, math, science, literature. We also help the students learn about their abilities, how to control them, how to use them." Summers hesitated. "We train a select few in more...martial arts.
"It's not what we would choose, but the Professor and I agree it will become more necessary to have mutants who are willing and able to protect humanity from mutant threats. We call ourselves," a slight smile, "the X-Men."
"For Professor Xavier."
"Yes. So far most of the students have not been allowed to join the team, but Bobby and his girlfriend Rogue are two who have. They proved themselves level-headed in the time after the school was attacked."
"Kitty?"
"She's in training, but not yet on the team. The only reason she was on this mission was that it was supposed to be easy."
Jon laughed, but not out of amusement. "I know about those missions."
"I'm sure you do." Summers crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "I hate putting the kids in harm's way, but there are so few of us and so many who hate mutants. The attacks are getting worse all the time, the legal challenges stronger, our defenders fewer."
"So, why haven't you joined this Magneto, then?" Trip sounded belligerent and Jon shot him a warning look.
Face set and grim, Summers turned the red glasses on him. "Because the proper response to violence is not more violence."
Trip sneered at him. "Well, tell that to the Xindi."
Summers frowned. "Who are the Xindi?"
Jon shook his head. "They're the reason this ship is so far from Earth, but we don't know much about them. We know there are five distinct species of Xindi and they live in this area of space, which is called the Expanse. Less than a year ago, they sent a probe to Earth." He couldn't go on and took refuge in a sip of his coffee.
Summers looked at Trip, whose pleasant expression had gone cold and hard. It wasn't a good look on him, Jon thought.
"The probe..." Summers prompted.
"Killed millions of people," Jon said bluntly. "It wiped out a swathe of Earth."
"God," Summers said. "Why?"
Jon shook his head slowly. "It's complicated. From what we can tell, they believe humans are going to destroy their homeworld."
"But if you've never met these Xindi--"
"It's all got to do with time travel. I hate time travel," Jon said.
"Why would humans do that? Have you asked the Xindi?" Summers was still in shock, Jon thought, remembering how long it had taken him to grasp the enormity of the loss.
"Who cares? They want to wipe us out. That's pretty clear," Trip said.
"But why?" Summers frowned.
Trip snorted. "Obviously, you don't care about the millions who died. It's not your Earth, is it?"
"That's not--"
"My sister died, damn it!" Trip pushed his chair back, exploding out of it, away from the table. Jon stared, surprised to see Trip talking about it. "Those bastards vaporized my baby sister and you want me to talk? You don't have the faintest idea--"
"My fiancée is dead." Summers swallowed hard.
Trip spun around to stare at him, jaw dropping. "What?"
"Jean. My fiancée. She," he swallowed again, "died. In the escape after the school was attacked."
Long silence as the two men pondered each other. Jon held his breath.
Trip was the first to speak. "I'm sorry. For Jean. And for, well, for what I said. It's been tough."
Nodding, Scott waved Trip back to his seat. "I'm sorry to hear about your sister."
"How did Jean die?"
Scott's jaw twitched and when he spoke, it was in a monotone. "A senior US military official created a weapon to kill all the mutants. We stopped him, but Magneto tried to use it to kill the humans instead. We managed to stop that as well, but in the escape our jet was damaged."
Scott fell silent, obviously lost in the memory. "Jean was a telekinetic and a telepath. She stopped the water from a broken dam from drowning us, lifted the jet...and she was gone." His voice was hoarse.
"She...whoa, that's amazing." Trip's eyes were wide. "Lizzie was sweet and kind."
"I'm sure she was."
Jon sighed. "I think we could all use a drink."
The two other men nodded and Jon rang for the steward. "Please tell Chef I'd like to break out bottle number 2."
Trip dropped back into his seat with a sigh, fiddling with his coffee spoon, while Summers stood and, hands in his pockets, went to stare out at the stars. It hurt to watch the two of them, Jon thought, wounded and angry. And if he was honest, they weren't the only ones. His own behavior since they'd entered the Expanse had been schizophrenic, to say the least.
The steward brought in a bottle of Southern Comfort, which got him a brief smile from Trip. Jon waved the steward away and poured each of them a healthy shot.
Trip leaned his arms on the table, watching the liquid in his glass; when Jon brought a glass over, Summers thanked him and took a sip, his mind obviously still far away.
Finally turning away from the view, Summers returned to his seat. "Tell me more about your mission." The pain they'd seen was buttoned-down, hidden from view again.
"We're here to find the Xindi, find the weapon we know they're building to destroy the Earth, and stop them." It sounded impossible when he put it that way.
"Alone?"
Trip snorted. "Our so-called allies, the Vulcans, told us it was our problem. T'Pol told 'em to go to hell, quit her job, and came along."
"Starfleet's working on other ships," Jon said, "but it'll be months before they're launched. We don't know if we can wait that long."
"Sounds tough."
"It's been...difficult," Jon said, grimacing at the massive understatement. "We're working with insufficient information in unfamiliar and dangerous territory. I'm afraid you didn't walk into an easy situation."
"We're used to that," Summers said. "I know Logan and I can handle it, I just wish the kids hadn't come along. I wish I knew what I did to bring us here."
Trip drained his glass and held it out for another splash. "We'll figure it out, promise."
"Thank you." Summers didn't sound all that pleased about depending on someone else.
"So," Trip said, "people don't like mutants much."
Summers snorted. "Considering how you reacted to my mention of telepathy, are you really surprised?"
Trip had the good grace to look abashed at the reminder. "Yeah, you're right."
"Humans seem to have three responses to mutants: apathy, blind hatred, or a desire to control our powers, use them for one purpose or another."
"That's cynical," Trip said.
"That's my life," Summers responded, his voice sharp. "Students come to our school in conditions ranging from bad to worse--beaten by their parents because they grew wings, attacked by mobs because they can move things with their minds, traumatized by rejection because of circumstances beyond their control."
Trip and Jon were silent as Summers stood and went to look out at the stars. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "These kids are my life. Especially since..."
Since Jean's death. The words went unspoken but they hung in the air and Summers leaned his forehead against the clear surface in front of him.
Control them, Jon thought, staring down into the dregs of his drink. What a seductive thought it was. These four mutants were living, intelligent weapons: Kitty, the perfect spy and saboteur; Logan, the ultimate soldier; Bobby, elemental power over water and ice; and Scott, a human-shaped laser.
When he looked up, Summers was watching him. Even with the red glasses, Jon could feel the intensity of that regard, and he suspected Summers knew exactly what he was thinking. "So long as you are on this ship," Jon said, choosing his words with care, "you are under my protection. Nobody will make you do anything you don't wish to. You have my word."
He stared at Summers' glasses, trying to see the eyes behind them, trying to show he meant it. Beside him, Trip shifted, obviously uneasy.
"Thank you, Captain," Summers said finally. "I appreciate that."
Jon nodded. "Well, Phlox will have my head if I keep you up all ship's night talking. Shift's almost over, so we should get you bunked down."
"It's always best to follow doctor's orders." Summers' smile looked exhausted.
"We don't have many extra beds," Jon said, frowning at a padd on the table, "but we've found places for you to sleep as long as you don't mind being separated."
"I'd prefer we were together, mainly for the kids, but I understand."
"If it helps, we've set up the comm system to recognize you and you can contact each other anywhere on the ship. Computer access is restricted, but you should be able to view historical and entertainment features."
Summers nodded. "Thank you. You're being remarkably kind to four intruders."
Jon didn't respond immediately, thinking about how young Summers was. It was easy to forget since he was in charge, but he was so very very young. "We put you in the brig. That's kind?"
A grin flashed across his face for an instant, lighting it. "Everyone puts us in jail. Most don't intend to let us out."
Shaking his head, Jon waved at the door. "Let's gather the troops and get everyone assigned to a room."
Kitty looked thrilled when informed she'd be bunking with Hoshi Sato, and Scott was happy to see the ship's linguist appeared equally pleased with the arrangement. The two disappeared out the door, words like "ice cream" and "movie" wafting back before the door shut behind them.
One of the marines (MACOs, they called them) claimed Logan, insisting there was a free bunk in their area, and some kind of sparring match was already in the works from what Scott could hear. He shook his head, hoping Logan wouldn't hurt anyone too badly.
A dark-haired crewman named Rostov grinned at Bobby. "You're stuck with me. I'm not as good-looking as Ensign Sato, though."
Bobby blushed. "I've got a girlfriend anyway."
"Really? Okay, you get to tell me about her while we steal some of the ladies' ice cream."
Scott was pleased--it seemed his team was settling in rather nicely. He turned to say as much to the captain, but caught a scowl on Lt. Reed's face. Reed noticed him watching and blanked the scowl to something more neutral. They eyed each other and Scott wondered if he was supposed to fight or roll over and expose his throat.
The moment was broken when the captain grinned at both of them. "Well, now that we've got that settled, I've got to get down to engineering and take a look at those upgrades Trip wants me to see." He was gone rather faster than a human should be able to move.
"But..."
"You'll be staying with me," Reed said, the scowl back.
"Great." Scott scowled himself, realizing the captain had abandoned them for a reason. The most annoying thing was that it was the kind of thing he might have done in a similar circumstance.
"When I expressed my reservations about allowing you free rein of the ship, Captain Archer said that if I was so concerned, I should put you where I could keep an eye on you. He insisted. Ordered, in fact."
"Your captain's sense of humor--"
"Leaves a little to be desired. I know."
"Well, you don't trust me and I don't like you, so I'd say we understand each other."
"True."
--continued in part 3--
Summers lay on the biobed outside the main scanner and Phlox frowned at the readings above the bed as if they'd personally insulted his professional expertise.
"This man is unconscious," Phlox shouted as a guard bumped into him. "I hardly believe he is in any condition to attack me."
"Lieutenant Reed said--"
"You are in my way," Phlox said. "I cannot properly treat my patient with all of you hovering."
Jon decided it was time to intervene. "It's okay. Do as the doctor says."
"Yes, sir." The security guards all stepped out of the way, allowing various orderlies to swoop in.
Phlox didn't even acknowledge the captain, muttering furiously to Liz Cutler, who ran to the nearest console and started tapping away. Jon wanted to ask questions, but contented himself with studying the man on the biobed from the safe vantage point of the doorway.
Honestly, Summers looked terrible. He was so still, Jon might have thought he was dead if Phlox wasn't still working, and his face was pale and drawn. In fact, he looked underfed in general. Jon frowned. Why did he still have those red sunglasses on?
Phlox whirled around. "I need to talk to one of the other visitors. Find out if one of them knows anything about this man's medical history."
Everyone looked at Jon, who paused for a moment, indecisive. Then he nodded at the nearest guard, Crewman Soong. "Do it. Bring someone here. Fast."
She nodded and dashed out the door. It seemed an interminable wait, with Phlox running tests and looking anxious, but finally the glass door opened and Soong entered with the young woman.
Jon's heart went out to her, with her wide eyes and hands clenched by her side. When she saw Summers lying on the biobed, she gasped and put a hand to her mouth, and the crowd seemed to make her even more nervous.
"Thank you for coming," Jon said quietly, trying not to spook her. "My doctor needs your help to help your friend."
"He's my teacher," she said firmly, looking up at him through a curtain of long brown hair.
"Okay, your teacher. What's your name?"
"Katherine Pryde. But everybody calls me Kitty."
"Nice to meet you, Kitty." Now that she seemed less likely to have hysterics, he glanced at the doctor, who looked ready to explode. "Now let's see if you can tell Dr. Phlox what he needs to know."
"I'll try," she said. "I help Dr. McCoy sometimes."
As soon as she was in range, Phlox started firing questions at her. Fortunately, she seemed to understand what he was asking, which was good, because Jon was lost after she said something about "brain damage." Within moments, the two were huddled over a console and she was pointing to things and talking about "X factors" and "UV conversions". Jon resumed staring at the stranger, hoping he wasn't going to die.
"That's it!" Phlox said. "We need a broad-spectrum UV emitter now."
"A...right." Jon turned and punched the comm button. "Archer to Engineering."
"Go ahead, sir."
The bright light got Scott's attention first. No, he thought, I refuse to believe in that bright light you're supposed to see when you're dying. Anything but that.
"Mr. Summers?" a voice called. "Please open your eyes."
Open my eyes? he wondered. What if I don't want to see the tunnel?
"Maybe if you stopped shining the light in his face," another voice responded.
Kitty? Maybe he wasn't dead after all.
The light dimmed and Scott experimented with his eyelids, finding--to his great surprise--that they opened. He blinked a few times, pleased with this sign of progress.
"He's moving!" Kitty said.
"Mr. Summers," the same unidentified voice said again, "how are you?"
"Like death warmed over," he croaked, squinting. Ah, it was the captain talking to him.
"I am not surprised," the doctor said from behind him. Scott craned his neck around and the doctor obligingly moved where he could be seen. "You were in rather grave danger, until Ms. Pryde and I were able to determine the difficulty."
"You ran out of gas," Kitty said.
"Ah."
Scott nodded sagely until Kitty recognized his sarcasm. "Dr. McCoy explained to me once that you convert sunlight into energy and if you went without sunlight, it might make you sick."
"Very sick, actually," Scott said. "Hank and I tested it once and it wasn't pleasant. I'm surprised I didn't recognize the feeling."
"Well, you were probably busy," Archer said, with an engaging half grin which Scott couldn't help but return.
"I suppose so. But in our test, it took me almost a week to get sick. What would be different here?"
Phlox made an odd sound. "I suspect you used the energy you had stored when you removed yourself and your companions to this ship."
"How the...how did I do that?" Scott stared at the doctor, the bottom dropping out of his stomach. Bad enough he had the capacity to accidentally blow a hole through a mountain, but now he needed to worry about hopping through the multiverse if he wasn't paying attention?
"We are not entirely certain. Sub-commander T'Pol and Commander Tucker were arguing about that when I last saw them."
"Great." A deep breath. "Is there any chance of my accidentally moving anyone right now?"
"We do not think so. It seems to have used up a great deal of your resources, which are not yet recharged. And from what Ms. Pryde describes, you were under attack at the time. Perhaps that condition might be required."
"Right." Scott resisted the urge to groan, put the whole question aside to be dealt with later, and turned to Kitty. "Are Logan and Bobby okay?"
She smiled. "Other than worrying about you, I think so. I went down a few minutes ago to let them know you were okay. Logan growled."
"We'll leave you to recover," the captain said, "although I'm afraid the guards will have to remain over there."
Scott nodded. "I understand. And thank you for saving my life."
When the captain and doctor had moved away, Kitty looked worried. "I'm sorry. I had to tell him about your powers and some of the stuff about mutants. He needed to know."
"Don't be too sorry. You did save my life, after all."
She shuffled her feet. "Well, Ms. Grey wouldn't..." She gasped and looked away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"
"It's okay," he said, throat tight. "You can mention Jean."
Kitty's eyes filled with tears and Scott struggled to sit up. "I'm okay. Really." He put his arms around her and she began to cry, huge tears rolling down her cheeks.
Scott fought back his own tears, hating his weakness, the desire to go fetal and let the universe sort itself out. But duty called as it always did. And he would be strong for Bobby and Kitty, because now they'd seen him break down twice. Today and the day that Jean had died. That was two too many times.
Jon nodded to Phlox. "In your office?"
"Certainly, Captain."
Within moments, they were seated with the door closed. "I take it you haven't had a chance to complete your study."
"Complete it, no. But I believe the data from Mr. Summers and Ms. Pryde should be sufficient for a preliminary report. I can assure you our visitors are human...with some variations."
"Variations? Are they genetically engineered? Are they Khan's superhumans?"
"I do not see any evidence of deliberate genetic manipulation, Captain. As strange as they seem, these changes appear to have occurred naturally."
Jon leaned back in his chair. "Tell me about the changes."
"Apparently, Mr. Summers' body converts several parts of the ultraviolet spectrum, those found in light from Earth's sun, into a physical beam that shoots out of his eyes. Thus, the sunglasses, which restrain the beams."
"You're kidding."
"No, I most certainly am not." Phlox pursed his lips. "The changes to the human genome are fascinating, and nothing like this has ever been reported. Not in our timeline, at least."
Jon swore quietly to himself and took a deep breath. "Malcolm's not going to believe it. Let's go talk to them."
Jon leaned in the doorway, instincts at war, and watched Summers comfort Kitty. Enterprise was all alone in the Expanse, surrounded by deadly enemies, and practicality told him not to trust strange people who appeared out of nowhere and could potentially shoot energy out of their eyes. But Jon's heart went out to the young man who'd nearly died a short while ago and now was trying to calm a frightened young woman.
When Phlox stepped up behind him, Jon took a few steps closer and saw Summers stiffen and then relax. "Captain. Doctor."
Kitty swallowed her tears and stepped away. "Hi."
"Sorry to interrupt, but I think we need to talk. Perhaps Kitty would like to be introduced to some of Dr. Phlox's menagerie."
Summers nodded once and Phlox smiled at Kitty, leading her away as he chattered about Pyrithian bats and Andorian snails. Tilting his head to one side, Summers waited for him to speak.
It was disconcerting, Jon thought, trying to judge a man wearing red sunglasses. They seemed to cover more than just his eyes. Not to mention that the man did a better blank face than Malcolm. He might as well be made of stone, with those sharp edges.
"I don't know what to do with you," Jon said. "You're a living, dangerous weapon and your friend has claws. Phlox says your mutation seems to be natural."
"Logan's claws , but if I'd done this to my eyes on purpose, I'd be able to control it," Summers said, sounding tired. "I would be able to take off my glasses."
"Hmm." Jon sighed, considering his (limited) options.
"I think it might be time for full disclosure about what we can do. It'll either help you trust us or..."
"Or?"
"You'll try to kill us."
Jon shook his head, not sure what he was disagreeing with.
Summers looked around to find Kitty. "Kitty, could you come here?" She started to walk around a biobed. "The short way, please."
Without slowing, she walked through the bed.
Jon felt his jaw drop and Phlox's eyes gleamed as he grabbed a medical tricorder. Kitty looked puzzled. "But I thought--"
"I changed my mind. Thank you for the demonstration."
"Sure. Do you need me to phase through anything else?"
Summers waved at Phlox. "I think he'd like a few demonstrations. It's okay, go on."
Light-headed, Jon watched Kitty put her hand through various solid objects. "I've got to be careful," she said. "I short out electronics if I phase through them."
"Fascinating!"
Summers was solemn when Jon turned back, waiting for a reaction.
"What else can you people do?"
"The military coated Logan's bones with the hardest metal known, adamantium, and he naturally has enhanced senses as well as the ability to heal from injuries incredibly fast. The claws can cut through nearly anything. They're also a present from the military."
The last sentence contained more venom and bitterness than Jon had heard from Summers since his precipitous arrival. He wondered what it was for. "What about the young man?"
"Bobby draws heat out of the air, although we haven't figured out how. But it lets him create, shape, and control ice. He can chill things to an incredibly low temperature."
"Wow."
"If we'd wanted to fight you...we'd have done a great deal of damage. We might even have won."
"I can see that." Jon's mind reeled. "But you didn't."
"No."
"I'm not sure you've made this any easier. I can't really put you back in the brig when she can walk right out of it." Jon started to pace across sickbay, hoping movement would jog his brain. Passing the comm panel, he tapped it. "Archer to T'Pol."
"Go ahead, Captain."
"I need you and Trip in sickbay. And get Malcolm. Oh, have him get someone to bring the other two up from the brig."
"Understood."
Summers was as still as a statue, jaw tense, waiting.
Jon glared at him, angered at the resignation, the implication that Summers knew how he would react. "Damn it, I'm not going to kill you!"
Kitty and Phlox looked up.
"It's okay, Kitty," Summers said, not turning his head, watching Jon.
The tension built until it was nearly a palpable presence. What were these people capable of, why were they here, were they telling the truth?
A whoosh and the door to sickbay opened and Jon finally turned to look. Malcolm had a hand on his phase pistol as he entered, scanning the room for danger. His eyes widened and his fingers closed on the weapon, so Jon turned to see what he was looking at.
Kitty stood with her hand inside a biobed, watching the new arrivals.
"Cap'n, what the--" Trip and T'Pol stood just inside sickbay, the door closing behind them.
"New developments, Trip."
Kitty looked down at her hand, pulled it out of the table and sidled over next to Scott.
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Have you made any progress?"
"Well, we've matched up some of the particles with the ones off that derelict and the cyborg ship on Earth. So, that's good evidence for time travel." Trip grinned at T'Pol, who ignored him.
"What particles?" Summers asked.
"The ones you were leaking like a bucket full of holes. A couple of bridge sensors nearly blew out when you arrived, but it's pretty certain you were the source."
"I believe this eliminates an outside actor such as a transporter," T'Pol said.
The door opened and Trip and T'Pol stepped out of the way to allow Logan and Bobby to enter, followed by two of the MACOs. Logan's eyes flicked briefly to Scott and Kitty, then swept the room. Jon wondered what branch of the military he'd been in, because only someone who'd seen some kind of combat reacted like that.
Bobby looked at everyone and went to stand next to Kitty, who smiled reassuringly at him. Jon was struck by the resilience of youth, moving from tears to helping a classmate in a few minutes. Logan prowled over to stand off to one side, eyeing Malcolm and his phase pistol.
"Well," Jon said, clearing his throat, "I thought it was time to lay everything on the table. Phlox says our visitors don't seem to have deliberate genetic manipulations. They've shown me they had the capacity to do a great deal of damage--not to mention leave the brig--none of which they chose to do."
"If we wanted you dead, you would be," Logan said, voice very cold and brittle. Jon shivered, aware in a way he hadn't been before, that this man was a killer.
"Logan." The one word from Summers seemed to be enough, although they took a moment to glare at each other. But Logan subsided, not responding--except to roll his head until his neck cracked.
That moment should have frightened Jon, should have made him say, 'Sedate them and put them back in the brig.' But it didn't. It was something about the way Bobby was trying to look brave and Kitty had her hands clenched by her side. And something about the way a killer with claws took orders from a young man with dark sunglasses. That young man--his instincts said--could be trusted.
"Until we figure out how to return you to your proper time and place, I'm releasing you from the brig."
"Captain!" Malcolm's voice was anguished.
T'Pol didn't move except for a slight quirk of the lips. "Are you certain that is wise?"
"Not at all. But I'm taking a chance." Malcolm opened his mouth, but Jon shook his head and the armory officer subsided. "Yes, they'll be restricted to nonessential portions of the ship."
"Thank you, sir." The tone was truculent, but Jon chose to ignore that.
"Thank you, Captain," Summers said. It was still impossible to tell what he was thinking, Jon thought with no little annoyance.
"Let's just hope we can find a way to get you home or I'm going to have to explain your continued presence to Starfleet. And I'd rather not do that."
Phlox broke in. "Now that we have these preliminaries complete, I believe my patient needs to eat."
Jon nodded. "Mr. Summers, if you'd care to join me for dinner in my private mess? I think we have some things to discuss."
A calm nod. "Thank you, Captain."
"Malcolm, please escort the other three to the mess hall so they can get something to eat as well." The armory officer, still scowling, led them out. "T'Pol? Trip?"
"I would like to resume my investigations, Captain."
"Have fun, T'Pol, I need something to eat. I'll join ya, Captain."
The atmosphere in the captain's private dining hall was much more relaxed once food had been consumed. Summers had spent every spare moment staring out at the stars, which made Jon like him even more. They made it through the salad and chicken and apple pie on innocuous conversation.
"So, tell me about mutants," Jon said, leaning back in his seat, sipping coffee.
Summers looked up from his cup. "As near as we can tell, mutants with fantastic powers began to appear in limited numbers in the 1950s, perhaps caused by experiments with radioactivity. By the end of the century, our numbers were great enough to make people nervous." It sounded like a speech he'd made many times, perhaps a museum tour.
"Some, like my mentor Charles Xavier, believe humans and mutants should be able to live together. Others, like Magneto, see war between humans and mutants as inevitable. He intends to be on the winning side, no matter what."
Jon sighed. "Sounds familiar. What about this Senator Kelly you mentioned when you arrived?"
Summers twirled his coffee cup, his jaw twitching once before he answered. "He sponsored the Mutant Registration Act. All mutants would have been required to register with the government. It was a 'license to lynch mutants' law."
"Damn," Trip said.
"It's been difficult riding in the center of the road, trying to keep mutants under control as well as the humans trying to kill us. There have been...losses, mistakes."
He stopped abruptly, jaw clenched and hand nearly white on the cup. The pain was so obvious, Jon almost called Phlox before he realized his pain was mental, not physical. He and Trip looked away and waited for him to regain control.
"That's our history in a nutshell," Summers said eventually. "Now, who is Khan?"
"Well, around the same time your mutants were appearing spontaneously," Jon said, "people on Earth, our Earth, were trying to create supermen--stronger, faster, smarter. Then the supermen grew up. It started as isolated terrorist activities, but it was really Khan gaining power.
"Near the end of the century, he and his supermen came out of the closet and began their work in earnest--threats, near-destruction of the Earth, it was a terrible time. It left us with strict laws against genetic manipulation."
Summers shook his head slowly. "Khan probably spouted a lot of garbage about how his people were the next step in evolution and survival of the fittest, right?"
Trip snorted. "That's about right."
"Sounds like Khan and Magneto would have loved each other."
"Please, don't even think about that," Jon said, trying to lighten the mood. "For all we know, you can wish them into the same universe."
"You never know." Summers stared out at the stars, looking uncomfortable. "Did Khan suffer any particular persecution?"
"Not that I know of, why?"
"Magneto...Erik was a Jewish survivor of World War II, of the Holocaust. He saw his parents dragged away to be killed."
"Oh."
"Mm-hmm. He sees the treatment of mutants and the calls for registration as signs that mutants are going to be rounded up in concentration camps to be murdered."
Jon studied Summers, intrigued. "You're afraid he's right."
"Yes." It was little more than a whisper.
Jon and Trip waited.
Rubbing his temple under the glasses, Summers went on. "A few months ago, the school, our school for mutant children, was attacked by the US military and some of the students were kidnapped. Experimented on. I was drugged, brainwashed. I nearly killed...people, before I was stopped."
There was something else, Jon could tell, and it made his stomach roll think there might be something worse than what Summers had already described.
Summers took a few moments to calm down, but eventually he looked up. "But we've moved on, tried to resume our mission of teaching the kids how to control their powers, and monitoring the mutants with less noble goals. It's been difficult." He stopped again.
"What about this Professor Xavier?" Jon asked. "Who is he?"
Summers brightened, an amused smile on his lips. "My mentor and my teacher. He comes from old family money, which let him set up the school."
"Does he have powers too?" Trip asked.
"He's a telepath." Summers sighed. "Extremely powerful."
Trip sat up straight. "A telepath? He reads minds?"
"Yes."
Trip managed to draw back without moving--it was something in the look on his face. "That's...how do you..."
Summers turned toward Trip, obviously wanting him to understand. "The Professor does not read minds uninvited. That's part of why he started the school, so we could develop the ethical aspect of our mutations."
Trip's face twisted. "You can't do that, can you?"
"Trip..."
Summers stayed focused on Trip. "No, I can't. I've told you everything we can do."
Jon sighed. "Trip, cool it." Not for the first time, Jon wished Trip wasn't so excitable. "Telepaths aren't completely unknown here, either."
"Yeah, but I don't want to be near any of them!"
Jon wanted to slam his hands on the table and shout 'You mean, like T'Pol?' but now wasn't the time to deal with another in a long line of Vulcan secrets. "We have enough problems, let's not ask for trouble, okay?"
"Yes, Cap'n." Trip crossed his arms, looking sulky.
Why the hell had becoming a starship captain seemed like a good idea? Jon wanted desperately to roll his eyes, but settled for turning to Summers. "So, he started a school."
"Yes, I was one of his first students." For a moment, a nostalgic smile passed over the man's face, but it went dark. Again, Jon had the feeling something terrible had happened that Summers wasn't ready to share, and Summers shook his head. "We were in the middle of recruiting a new student when we ended up here. We were attacked by members of the mutant opposition and I suppose that must have somehow triggered this new ability of mine. I can only hope the prospective student we left behind was unharmed."
"What was his mutation?"
"Hers, actually. She projected illusions. I don't know what Magneto wants with her."
"What kinds of things do you teach at your school?" Jon asked.
"The normal things, math, science, literature. We also help the students learn about their abilities, how to control them, how to use them." Summers hesitated. "We train a select few in more...martial arts.
"It's not what we would choose, but the Professor and I agree it will become more necessary to have mutants who are willing and able to protect humanity from mutant threats. We call ourselves," a slight smile, "the X-Men."
"For Professor Xavier."
"Yes. So far most of the students have not been allowed to join the team, but Bobby and his girlfriend Rogue are two who have. They proved themselves level-headed in the time after the school was attacked."
"Kitty?"
"She's in training, but not yet on the team. The only reason she was on this mission was that it was supposed to be easy."
Jon laughed, but not out of amusement. "I know about those missions."
"I'm sure you do." Summers crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "I hate putting the kids in harm's way, but there are so few of us and so many who hate mutants. The attacks are getting worse all the time, the legal challenges stronger, our defenders fewer."
"So, why haven't you joined this Magneto, then?" Trip sounded belligerent and Jon shot him a warning look.
Face set and grim, Summers turned the red glasses on him. "Because the proper response to violence is not more violence."
Trip sneered at him. "Well, tell that to the Xindi."
Summers frowned. "Who are the Xindi?"
Jon shook his head. "They're the reason this ship is so far from Earth, but we don't know much about them. We know there are five distinct species of Xindi and they live in this area of space, which is called the Expanse. Less than a year ago, they sent a probe to Earth." He couldn't go on and took refuge in a sip of his coffee.
Summers looked at Trip, whose pleasant expression had gone cold and hard. It wasn't a good look on him, Jon thought.
"The probe..." Summers prompted.
"Killed millions of people," Jon said bluntly. "It wiped out a swathe of Earth."
"God," Summers said. "Why?"
Jon shook his head slowly. "It's complicated. From what we can tell, they believe humans are going to destroy their homeworld."
"But if you've never met these Xindi--"
"It's all got to do with time travel. I hate time travel," Jon said.
"Why would humans do that? Have you asked the Xindi?" Summers was still in shock, Jon thought, remembering how long it had taken him to grasp the enormity of the loss.
"Who cares? They want to wipe us out. That's pretty clear," Trip said.
"But why?" Summers frowned.
Trip snorted. "Obviously, you don't care about the millions who died. It's not your Earth, is it?"
"That's not--"
"My sister died, damn it!" Trip pushed his chair back, exploding out of it, away from the table. Jon stared, surprised to see Trip talking about it. "Those bastards vaporized my baby sister and you want me to talk? You don't have the faintest idea--"
"My fiancée is dead." Summers swallowed hard.
Trip spun around to stare at him, jaw dropping. "What?"
"Jean. My fiancée. She," he swallowed again, "died. In the escape after the school was attacked."
Long silence as the two men pondered each other. Jon held his breath.
Trip was the first to speak. "I'm sorry. For Jean. And for, well, for what I said. It's been tough."
Nodding, Scott waved Trip back to his seat. "I'm sorry to hear about your sister."
"How did Jean die?"
Scott's jaw twitched and when he spoke, it was in a monotone. "A senior US military official created a weapon to kill all the mutants. We stopped him, but Magneto tried to use it to kill the humans instead. We managed to stop that as well, but in the escape our jet was damaged."
Scott fell silent, obviously lost in the memory. "Jean was a telekinetic and a telepath. She stopped the water from a broken dam from drowning us, lifted the jet...and she was gone." His voice was hoarse.
"She...whoa, that's amazing." Trip's eyes were wide. "Lizzie was sweet and kind."
"I'm sure she was."
Jon sighed. "I think we could all use a drink."
The two other men nodded and Jon rang for the steward. "Please tell Chef I'd like to break out bottle number 2."
Trip dropped back into his seat with a sigh, fiddling with his coffee spoon, while Summers stood and, hands in his pockets, went to stare out at the stars. It hurt to watch the two of them, Jon thought, wounded and angry. And if he was honest, they weren't the only ones. His own behavior since they'd entered the Expanse had been schizophrenic, to say the least.
The steward brought in a bottle of Southern Comfort, which got him a brief smile from Trip. Jon waved the steward away and poured each of them a healthy shot.
Trip leaned his arms on the table, watching the liquid in his glass; when Jon brought a glass over, Summers thanked him and took a sip, his mind obviously still far away.
Finally turning away from the view, Summers returned to his seat. "Tell me more about your mission." The pain they'd seen was buttoned-down, hidden from view again.
"We're here to find the Xindi, find the weapon we know they're building to destroy the Earth, and stop them." It sounded impossible when he put it that way.
"Alone?"
Trip snorted. "Our so-called allies, the Vulcans, told us it was our problem. T'Pol told 'em to go to hell, quit her job, and came along."
"Starfleet's working on other ships," Jon said, "but it'll be months before they're launched. We don't know if we can wait that long."
"Sounds tough."
"It's been...difficult," Jon said, grimacing at the massive understatement. "We're working with insufficient information in unfamiliar and dangerous territory. I'm afraid you didn't walk into an easy situation."
"We're used to that," Summers said. "I know Logan and I can handle it, I just wish the kids hadn't come along. I wish I knew what I did to bring us here."
Trip drained his glass and held it out for another splash. "We'll figure it out, promise."
"Thank you." Summers didn't sound all that pleased about depending on someone else.
"So," Trip said, "people don't like mutants much."
Summers snorted. "Considering how you reacted to my mention of telepathy, are you really surprised?"
Trip had the good grace to look abashed at the reminder. "Yeah, you're right."
"Humans seem to have three responses to mutants: apathy, blind hatred, or a desire to control our powers, use them for one purpose or another."
"That's cynical," Trip said.
"That's my life," Summers responded, his voice sharp. "Students come to our school in conditions ranging from bad to worse--beaten by their parents because they grew wings, attacked by mobs because they can move things with their minds, traumatized by rejection because of circumstances beyond their control."
Trip and Jon were silent as Summers stood and went to look out at the stars. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "These kids are my life. Especially since..."
Since Jean's death. The words went unspoken but they hung in the air and Summers leaned his forehead against the clear surface in front of him.
Control them, Jon thought, staring down into the dregs of his drink. What a seductive thought it was. These four mutants were living, intelligent weapons: Kitty, the perfect spy and saboteur; Logan, the ultimate soldier; Bobby, elemental power over water and ice; and Scott, a human-shaped laser.
When he looked up, Summers was watching him. Even with the red glasses, Jon could feel the intensity of that regard, and he suspected Summers knew exactly what he was thinking. "So long as you are on this ship," Jon said, choosing his words with care, "you are under my protection. Nobody will make you do anything you don't wish to. You have my word."
He stared at Summers' glasses, trying to see the eyes behind them, trying to show he meant it. Beside him, Trip shifted, obviously uneasy.
"Thank you, Captain," Summers said finally. "I appreciate that."
Jon nodded. "Well, Phlox will have my head if I keep you up all ship's night talking. Shift's almost over, so we should get you bunked down."
"It's always best to follow doctor's orders." Summers' smile looked exhausted.
"We don't have many extra beds," Jon said, frowning at a padd on the table, "but we've found places for you to sleep as long as you don't mind being separated."
"I'd prefer we were together, mainly for the kids, but I understand."
"If it helps, we've set up the comm system to recognize you and you can contact each other anywhere on the ship. Computer access is restricted, but you should be able to view historical and entertainment features."
Summers nodded. "Thank you. You're being remarkably kind to four intruders."
Jon didn't respond immediately, thinking about how young Summers was. It was easy to forget since he was in charge, but he was so very very young. "We put you in the brig. That's kind?"
A grin flashed across his face for an instant, lighting it. "Everyone puts us in jail. Most don't intend to let us out."
Shaking his head, Jon waved at the door. "Let's gather the troops and get everyone assigned to a room."
Kitty looked thrilled when informed she'd be bunking with Hoshi Sato, and Scott was happy to see the ship's linguist appeared equally pleased with the arrangement. The two disappeared out the door, words like "ice cream" and "movie" wafting back before the door shut behind them.
One of the marines (MACOs, they called them) claimed Logan, insisting there was a free bunk in their area, and some kind of sparring match was already in the works from what Scott could hear. He shook his head, hoping Logan wouldn't hurt anyone too badly.
A dark-haired crewman named Rostov grinned at Bobby. "You're stuck with me. I'm not as good-looking as Ensign Sato, though."
Bobby blushed. "I've got a girlfriend anyway."
"Really? Okay, you get to tell me about her while we steal some of the ladies' ice cream."
Scott was pleased--it seemed his team was settling in rather nicely. He turned to say as much to the captain, but caught a scowl on Lt. Reed's face. Reed noticed him watching and blanked the scowl to something more neutral. They eyed each other and Scott wondered if he was supposed to fight or roll over and expose his throat.
The moment was broken when the captain grinned at both of them. "Well, now that we've got that settled, I've got to get down to engineering and take a look at those upgrades Trip wants me to see." He was gone rather faster than a human should be able to move.
"But..."
"You'll be staying with me," Reed said, the scowl back.
"Great." Scott scowled himself, realizing the captain had abandoned them for a reason. The most annoying thing was that it was the kind of thing he might have done in a similar circumstance.
"When I expressed my reservations about allowing you free rein of the ship, Captain Archer said that if I was so concerned, I should put you where I could keep an eye on you. He insisted. Ordered, in fact."
"Your captain's sense of humor--"
"Leaves a little to be desired. I know."
"Well, you don't trust me and I don't like you, so I'd say we understand each other."
"True."
--continued in part 3--