Chapter 21

A telempathic force so powerful that it was tangible engulfed Charles Marlowe. He could feel it crawling across his skin. The pain of a billion deaths flooded his mind and body with an energy as dark as his soul. Emma struggled to maintain her focus, finding it impossible not to be affected by the backwash of negative emotion as she funneled it ineffectively at Charles Marlowe. He simply started laughing.

"You think that showing me death will help you? It has no meaning to me." The black Psionic energy dissipated from around Marlowe. Emma saw stars in her eyes and felt feint with fatigue. She lost control of the telekinetic hold she had on the Strand leader, who walked calmly straight up to her. He grabbed her, his hands nearly encircling her thin upper arms. "Death is a privilege and I am more than happy to bestow it on anyone." Marlowe threw Emma down to the ground. She was nearly knocked out when her head smashed into the concrete.

"I had every intention of letting you live, Ms. DeLauro, but you have eliminated your own usefulness. I can't hold you by myself and I have no one to get the information that I want from your mind. You cannot kill me, but I see no advantage in letting your powers recharge again. At this point, my best bet is to try and undo the psychic blocks in your friends." Emma recovered slightly and tried to get up, but Marlowe stepped to her and brought his right foot down hard on her chest, slamming her into the concrete floor again and knocking the wind out of her. He removed his foot and stood on the right side of her head, looking straight down at her. "Death is bliss. I envy you," he said and pressed his right shoe against her trachea.

Emma began to panic as her air was cut off. She had already been gasping for breath and now could only stare up at Marlowe as her lungs tried futilely to pump oxygen through her choked off windpipe. With all of her might, Emma pushd up on his foot with both of her hands, but she didn't have the strength to lift it. She had not regained enough energy to use telekinesis to save herself. Her Mutant X team members had lost consciousness; unable to cope with the overflow of her attack on the Links and so she could expect no help from them.

There was only one hope. She did not have a surplus of Psionic energy and so could not launch any type of attack or defense, but she did have her own native life force. Emma astral projected from her body. Now a pale image of herself visible only to a powerful Psionic, she looked down at her lifeless carcass. A thin silver strand attached her mind to the mind of the limp form lying on the ground. If she was out of her body too long the glowing string would disappear and she could never return.

Marlowe lifted his foot from the young woman's throat soon after her body went limp. It had seemed too quick. He was a student of death and he did not believe it possible for him to be fooled. Taking a knee beside the body, he felt for breath, for a pulse, for the beat of her heart. There was nothing. Marlowe surveyed the hang and the dozens of still forms strewn about. He walked to where one of his aids was lying prone on the ground and retrieved the man's sidearm. Returning to Emma's corpse, he aimed the gun at the center of her forehead. There was always the possibility the girl had put herself into some sort of deep meditative trance that simulated death. It was not worth the risk.

Emma watched what her enemy was doing. If her body died, she would be doomed to wander the Earth as an incorporeal spirit until the energy of her astral form evaporated into nothingness. In an act of desperation, as she saw the barrel of the pistol aimed at her head, she leapt into the body of Charles Marlowe.

"Clever, but futile," he said, immediately sensing the other consciousness and recognizing who it must be. Involuntarily, his arm jerked, throwing the gun aside. Marlowe kicked Emma's innert body, but before he could kick it again, he lost control of his legs and fell to the ground.

"I know this is only temporary," Marlowe said. "Your body is still dying."

Maybe, but I think I have long enough. Emma forced Marlowe's body to stand. He began running toward the far corner of the hangar. Since she was possessing his body, Marlowe's New Mutant ability to instantly heal from attacks was rendered useless. Emma's control was indistinguishable from the commands of his own brain, therefore, his powers were not triggered. Though he struggled with her for domination, he could not compete with a Psionic in the realm of the mind.

"You can't hurt me." Marlowe wasn't often surprised and it worried him to some extent, but he was always confident in his invulnerability. Emma didn't care if he spoke and she allowed him to expend energy that way if he wanted. "I can already sense that you are weaker than when you first possessed me. You won't be able to get me far enough away that I can't return and kill you before your body recovers."

Rather than leaving the hangar, Marlowe climbed aboard the wreckage of the Double Helix. "What are you doing?" he asked. It was not the course of action he had expected. He found himself rummaging through a storage container. Inside, he found several innocuous looking nylon strings. They were Tuff-Tie restraints. Emma forced Marlowe to bind his legs in a hobble. Then he bound his wrists together on either side of a metal pipe in the damaged rear of the plane, using his teeth to push the polycarbonate locking block down snuggly. He then used his tongue to tie a knot in the trailing end of the nylon bonds.

Don't worry, I'll be back, Emma thought before gratefully deserting Charles Marlowe's body and following the silver tendril of life back to her own. The pain that met her was unbelievable. Her throat was crushed and she could hardly breath. It felt like Marlowe's kick had broken a few of her ribs. Her head ached from when it had hit the floor. Though beaten and battered, she was still alive. She could feel her power returning. All around her, she could sense the dull grief and horror running in the minds of the catatonic Links she had disabled. It would be days before they recovered and she did not envy them the misery that would fill their hearts when they awoke.

Adam, Shalimar, Jesse and Brennan were not as bad off as the Strand members, but they had still been affected enough that their minds could not deal with what they had experienced and remain conscious for long. Emma felt tears welling up in her eyes, but forced the back down again. She reached out to her friends and alleviated their pain, smoothing out the scars left by the pain of so many deaths. Hopefully, they would forgive her and realize she hadn't intended them to be victims of her attack. It would be better to let them awaken naturally, but they didn't have the luxury of time. All four woke up as if from a nightmare—screaming.