A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 20
"Whoa! Where's the fire?" Bobby asked, watching Jubilee blade past him down the sub-basement corridor. From the streak of red he saw, she looked to be in her Generation X uniform.
She made a turn in mid-motion in order to face him. "Gotta get to the hanger bay pronto!"
"Why?" Bobby asked, jogging down the hallway to catch up to her. "Have they gotten a lead?"
"Yeah. They know where Jean is." And with that, she spun around and started to skate away.
"What! Where?" But Jubilee was already out of earshot. "Goddammit!" Bobby was about to sprint after her, but thought better of it as his current increase in respiratory rate had already sent an unpleasant twinge shooting across his ribcage. "To hell with it!" He used an ice-slide to transport himself to the hangar bay-entering only a few seconds after Jubilee.
Storm and the Beast were already in the process of refueling the plane. Jubilee was talking to Wolverine, who was pulling his mask into place. Cable was checking the settings on one of his super-sized guns as Cyclops said something to him, eliciting a grim nod. Everyone was in uniform and obviously ready for imminent departure.
"Where is she?" Iceman asked as he dismounted his ice-slide beside the Summers men.
"Omaha," Scott replied.
"Omaha?" Bobby repeated incredulously. "What the hell is she doing in Omaha?"
"The orphanage I grew up in was in Nebraska," Scott explained. "That's where Sinister first took an interest in me. Not too big a leap to consider he still has a base of operations somewhere in the vicinity."
"How'd you find her? Did Emma-?"
Cable snorted. "That arrogant Ice Queen was more trouble than she was worth."
"Tell me about it," Bobby muttered. "Then how-?"
"Jean contacted me," Scott explained. "She made brief telepathic contact."
"So she's okay?"
Scott nodded. "For the moment, anyway. She's afraid to use her powers, afraid someone will be able to track her. My guess is that she managed to escape Sinister and is now on the run from his cronies."
"So she told you she was in Omaha?"
Scott shook his head. "Not in so many words. She projected an image of a newspaper that told us her location."
Bobby grinned. "That's our Jeanie."
Scott returned the smile, albeit very briefly. It was the most hopeful Bobby had seen him in days.
"Have you heard from her since?" Bobby questioned.
"No." Turning around, Cyclops glanced up at the Blackbird. "Where are we at, Hank?" he shouted up to him.
"Storm and I have nearly completed the refueling process!" Hank bellowed back. "We will be ready for startup in approximately five minutes!"
Cyclops gave Hank and Ororo a thumbs-up. "We board in three minutes, people!" he shouted to the room's occupants. "And we take-off in six!"
"Count me in," Bobby told him.
"I was under the impression you were on the disabled list, Drake," Cable said as he holstered his enormous weapon.
"He is," Scott replied. "Bobby, it was Hank's medical ruling that you be placed on inactive duty."
"C'mon, Scotty, you can use my help. We're talking Sinister here-with either the Nasty Boys or Marauders on the job. You can use all the people you can get."
"Kid's got a point," Cable pointed out.
"Bobby, your injuries are nothing to laugh at. You need to rest and not exert yourself. Don't push me, or I'll order you grounded."
"Dammit, Scott, don't do this. Please. I want-I need-to help get Jeanie back. Even if you just make me Com Man, coordinating search parties from the plane. I just-I've gotta go with you, do whatever I can."
Scott considered. All of his experience as field leader was telling him that bringing Bobby along was a liability. But he could tell how strongly Drake felt about being included. And frankly, he did not have the time or the energy to argue with him any further.
"All right," Cyclops conceded. "But you're to stay with the plane. No heroics. Am I understood?"
"Yessir, Mr. Cyclops, Sir!" Bobby replied with an enthusiastic salute before heading to board the jet.
Scott looked up at his son, who was smirking. "What the hell are you smiling at?" he snapped.
"Nothing," Cable replied, though he did not stop grinning right away. "C'mon, Scott, let's go bring Jean home."
Jean sat in a chair at the Omaha Bus Station dosing. Each time she started to fall asleep, she would soon jerk herself awake. She just could not allow herself to let her guard down fully. She expected to see Arclight or Scalphunter or any one of Sinister's Marauders coming for her at any time. As such, she could not allow herself to sleep, to become that vulnerable. And so, ever since Jimmy had dropped her off about an hour ago, she had been resting-albeit fitfully.
She had soon discovered that her remaining cash would not get her even half-way to New York. She could have continued on at least part of the journey, but for some reason she felt safer in a bus station than traveling on a bus itself. She would have a better means of defending herself, of escape, and less threat of innocents getting caught in the crossfire.
She had considered calling home on a payphone, but once again, paranoia of Sinister's spying abilities won out. Instead, she found herself hoping and praying that Cable and Scott had been able to get a fix on her location from her previous contact, and that the cavalry was on the way. She had faith in them; surely Scott would consider the idea, and she had taught Nathan as much over the years. God willing, in a few short hours, she would be asleep in her own bed.
She was just drifting off to sleep again when she felt a familiar presence enter her mind. Writing it off as a dream, she paid it no heed, instead trying to force herself to resist sleep. As she jerked awake for the umpteenth time, she realized that the presence was still there.
Jean?
Nate?
Yeah, it's me.
What are you doing? If they pick this up on their sensors-
I've got that covered. I've initiated the contact, and am maintaining it alone; our conversation is not relying at all on your powers.
That's assuming it's my power signature they're scanning for, and not mutant energy in general.
That gave him pause. Well, I don't see what choice we have if we're going to pinpoint your location.
I'm at the Omaha Greyhound Station.
There was an extended pause. Or I could've just asked you.
She gave a mental chuckle.
Who are 'they', Jean? Who's after you?
Marauders. I've only seen Arclight and Scalphunter thus far, but I've no doubt the others are searching for me as well.
So Sinister is behind this.
Yes. The bastard wants to get his hands on my baby.
Are you both okay? Did he hurt you?
No, we're fine, Nate, all things considered. See for yourself.
He hesitated. But at Jean's insistence, he performed a more thorough scan, and touched his mind to that of his unborn sibling. It was a long time before he could find the words to form a coherent thought. He finally settled on Wow.
Pretty neat, huh?
I'll say. I've never felt anything like that before. Something so . . . innocent. I-what? Hold on a sec, Jean.
She waited patiently for him to resume the telepathic conversation.
Sorry about that. Scott just asked me to send you his love.
She smiled. He flying?
Of course. He doesn't trust anyone else to get us to you as quickly as possible.
Can I 'talk' to him?
There was another pause before Cable continued his communication. He doesn't think it's a good idea, and frankly I have to agree with him. He's worried that his presence in your mind might inadvertently trigger some aspect of your rapport, and thereby alert them to your location. Instead, he asked me to-what? No, Scott, I'm not gonna. . . . C'mon now. . . . I won't. . . . Oh, all right.
Jean smiled as she imagined the verbal conversation that was likely occurring between father and son.
Cable sighed in her head. I've just been informed that I'm to give you and the baby a psychic hug and kiss. Hold on, here goes. . . .
Jean was suddenly suffused with a feeling of inner calm. She felt all warm and toasty inside. There was nothing quite like a hug from one you loved-even if it was only a virtual one.
Thanks, Nate. Can you tell Scott-
No more playing telephone. You two can exchange endearments to one another in person in just a little while. Our ETA is-
He felt the anxiety fill her mind. Oh God.
Jean, what is it? What's-
I've spotted him. Scalphunter's here.
Cable could sense that her apprehension was quickly turning to panic.
What's he doing?
Scanning the crowd. I think he has that tracking device with him. I don't think he's spotted me yet.
Good. Listen to me, Jean. I want you to get up-slowly, so as to not draw attention to yourself.
Nate, if he's here, the others probably are too.
Jean, you've got to stay calm. You need to keep a level head. You with me?
He could sense her take a deep, steadying breath. Yes. I'm up, heading toward the restrooms.
That's good. Keep an eye on him. But don't go into the bathroom-they could corner you there, and no one would be the wiser.
How about the ticket counter? There's always a long line there.
Just make sure you give yourself an out-an exit route if you have to take immediate action.
How far away are you?
There was a pause. Scott says we'll be there in just over twenty minutes. Think you can evade him that long?
Let's hope so.
Jean, if you have to, defend yourself. Once you've been spotted, the game is up-doesn't matter how much your powers register on their sensors if they know where you are.
He could feel her determination grow. They won't take me-not again. I'm not going back to Sinister.
Just stay sharp, okay? I'm going to end this conversation, to keep me from distracting you.
Nate, don't go. He could feel a spike of fear. Don't leave me alone.
I'll maintain mental contact. You won't be alone, Jean. I promise.
He could sense her smile, feel her bolster of resolve. See you soon.
She no longer heard his voice in her head, but there was a comforting presence in the back of her mind. With a sigh, Jean moved up on the ticket line, all-the-while scanning the passers-by.
Abruptly, she was bumped by someone behind her. Turning, she saw a young woman bundled in a ratty olive green army-style jacket, a baseball cap covering her head. Her hands were shoved deep into her coat pockets, and she shivered, as if from cold.
"Pardon me," the woman muttered.
"That's okay," Jean replied, continuing her search over the woman's shoulder.
"You wouldn't happen to have the time, would you?"
Jean instinctively raised her arm to look at her wrist, but quickly realized she was not wearing a watch. "Sorry, no."
The woman looked from Jean's wrist to her face. "You feeling okay, ma'am?"
Jean returned the glance. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
"You look a little pasty, is all. Look like you might feel sick. Nauseous. Or dizzy, maybe."
Now that she mentioned it, Jean did feel a little queasy. For a moment she wondered if the morning sickness was acting up again. Her knees felt weak, and the room did look a bit brighter. She broke out into a cold sweat, and worried she was going to have to make a mad dash for the bathroom.
"Do you need to sit down?" the girl asked, placing a steadying hand on Jean's arm.
Gulping, Jean nodded her head, even as she tried taking a small step forward. She faltered.
"Easy does it," the woman said, helping to support her. "Take a deep breath."
Jean did as she suggested, desperately fighting the queasiness. She spared a quick glance down at the woman's face-and caught what she could have sworn was a hint of a grin. Her brow furrowed as she studied the stranger's features more closely. Pale skin, ash blonde hair. Recognition hit her then, almost as strong as the sensation of-
Vertigo.
"Let go of me," Jean gasped between shaky breaths.
"If I do, you're gonna fall down."
"I said-take your hands off me!" Jean shouted, pulling back from the woman's grasp. She nearly fell to the ground in the process. As it was, she staggered backwards, walking into one of the other people in line.
"Hey, watch it!" the man snapped.
"C'mon, Jean, let me help you before you pass out." The woman approached her, arms extended, palms open beseechingly.
Jean's eyes widened and then a small smile curled her lips. "Sloppy sloppy," she said, even as she swallowed back the taste of bile in the back of her throat. "Your boss will be disappointed. I never told you my name-Vertigo."
As shock crossed the young Marauder's face, Jean raised her own hand and focused past the dizziness filling her mind. The telekinetic shove pushed Vertigo right off the ground, sending her flying above people's heads and across the room, slamming her into a bank of lockers. She crashed to the floor and did not get up.
As soon as her opponent lost consciousness, the feeling of wooziness was gone. Jean straightened, using her coat sleeve to wipe the perspiration from her brow. Once again, she scanned her surroundings.
All bets are off, Nate, she sent to her stepson. I've been spotted, and I need to keep moving. She got out of line and fell in step behind a group of teens crossing the station.
I'm with you, Jean. Scott says about ten minutes. He's flooring it, so to speak.
I'm heading for the food court. There should be lots of people-
As Jean approached the seating area, she felt a strong breeze behind her. The wind was picking up, much as one would expect from an impending storm. That is, if one were outside.
Food wrappers, napkins, and plastic silverware began to slide across tabletops. Diners had to hold onto hats and magazines.
Hair whipping around her face, Jean stopped and turned, looking for the source of the mini-hurricane. She found him about twenty feet away, his long, narrow face and straggly white hair the only visible part above the small tornado-like effect his body generated. Planting her feet wide apart, Jean's hands curled into fists at her sides as she erected a telekinetic shield around herself.
He grinned maliciously when he saw her preparing herself. "We can make this as easy or hard as you want, love," he called to her. "Up to you."
She shook her head knowingly. "You won't take a chance on hurting me, Riptide. Sinister will have ordered you to deliver his prize undamaged."
"Well, yeah, killin' ya is out. So's beatin' ya to a bloody pulp. Don't mean we can't have us a little fun in the process."
He wouldn't dare-would he? No, Sinister would not stand for it. Especially given her recent medical history, he would not risk it. She had to call his bluff.
Riptide laughed. "You ain't the only one around who can bleed, ya know." And without any further warning, he tossed a handful of metal stars and spikes, the weapons projected with near-bullet speed toward the unsuspecting crowd.
Jean's reaction was instinctual, honed from countless hours of training and battle since she was a teenager. She reached out with her mind, extending the shield to cover the handful of people interspersed throughout the tables. The projectiles bounced off her psionic buffer, ineffective. Riptide's arsenal, however, was rather extensive, and he kept the weapons coming. Because of the large area being covered, the telekinetic barrier was by necessity thin; it took only a few dozen strikes before Jean felt the strain.
Gritting her teeth, she realized she was going to have to go straight to the source to put an end to the barrage. Concentrating, Jean encased Riptide in a telekinetic bubble. It took him a moment to realize he was trapped; by then, he had already released another round of weapons, which immediately began to ricochet within his invisible prison. One sliced across his cheek and another snipped off a lock of hair before he managed to power-down. By then, though, panicked members of the crowd were better able to make their escape.
The effort also left Jean sufficiently distracted so that she barely registered a person behind her touch her hand.
Jean screamed in agony, grabbing onto her head as she fell to her knees, unable to prevent an abrupt-and quite uncontrollable-flare of her mutant abilities. If Riptide's power had created panic, Jean's sudden onslaught escalated the crowd's fright tenfold. Tables and chairs rose into the air, striking people indiscriminately as they flew across the food court. People were shoved backwards, into walls or counters of refreshment stands.
Around her, adults and children alike screamed in terror. Unable to control her telekinesis, Jean could do nothing to stop the chaos. As it was, her mind was being bombarded with the thoughts of the hundreds of people in the bus station. For all her alleged skill as one of the most powerful and well-trained mutant telepaths, she could not block any of them. It was excruciating beyond any pain she had ever known. Mercifully, she quickly blacked out, her body slumping to the floor just as all the levitated objects likewise crashed downward.
Grinning triumphantly, the unassuming Asian man who has managed to sneak up behind Jean stepped over pieces of rubble to approach her fallen form. He lightly toed her with his boot, and she shifted onto her back, still unconscious.
"Good work, Scrambler," a tall, muscular woman said as she approached. She reached down and hefted Jean over her shoulder as though she weighed little more than a sack of potatoes.
"Easy does it, Arclight," Scrambler chided. "You heard the boss: Handle with Care."
"Sheesh. She's got a bun in the oven, not nitroglycerin." Rolling her eyes, the tall brunette woman nonetheless shifted her load so that she was carrying Jean cradled in her arms. "Happy?"
"Peachy keen. Just followin' orders, is all. C'mon, let's grab Riptide an' blow this joint before the cops show up."
With a bark of pain, Cable was thrown across the width of the fuselage. He crashed against the wall, leaving a dent, and tumbled to the floor. For a moment the psychic backlash sent his own powers haywire, and the metal composing his left arm and chest began to lose its shape, undulating into the air like silvery serpents.
He heard Scott yell his name, as well as countless other shouting voices. Breaking the mindlink with Jean, Cable was once again able to regain control of his own mutant abilities. Concentrating, he used his telekinesis to reshape the techno-organic tendrils, re-forming his arm. With a sigh, he looked up to see the concerned faces of Storm, Drake, and Jubilee standing over him.
"What happened?" Bobby questioned.
"Nathan, are you all right?" Ororo asked, bending down beside him.
"Psychic backlash," he muttered, allowing Storm and Drake to help him to his feet. "Someone attacked Jean, muddled her powers. I got a small piece of it through our mindlink."
"That the reason for the T2 impersonation, Big Guy?" Jubilee asked, her face pale and drawn despite the levity of her tone.
Cable shook his head as though to clear it. "I wasn't the primary target-just happened to be linked to the wrong mind at the wrong time."
"What about Jean?" Scott called from the pilot's seat. "Is she okay?"
Cable closed his eyes in concentration, but soon opened them again. "I've lost contact. She's probably unconscious."
For a moment, silence rang heavy in the air of the plane.
"That means Sinister's flunkies've got 'er," Wolverine growled, extending his claws with a snikt.
"We shall arrive in less than ten minutes," the Beast called from the co-pilot's seat.
"That's ten minutes Jean may not have," Cyclops replied, his voice tight. He adjusted the throttle, pushing the Blackbird to near-maximum acceleration.
"Scott, even with a Shi'ar cloaking device, we can't maintain this kind of speed and remain undetected," Hank warned.
"I don't care," Scott replied, his fingers tightening on the yolk. "We need to make their escape as difficult as possible. Storm-"
"Cyclops?" she called, indicating she was prepared for his order.
"Drown 'em."
Nodding, Ororo's eyes began to cloud over even as they heard the boom of thunder a moment before a bolt of lightening flashed across the darkening sky visible through the windshield. "I shall retain a pocket of clear sky around us to facilitate our travel."
Hank was studying an electronic map on the console to his immediate right. "Looks like the nearest area large enough to land in is about a mile from the Bus Station."
"That's too far. Beast, when we approach, I want you to bring her low and hover."
"You got it, Fearless."
"Hank, take over." He did not even pay his friend a passing glance as he unfastened his seatbelt and headed to the back of the jet, where the others were gathered. "Storm, you drop Wolverine in the parking lot and head for the roof. Cable, you think you can handle lowering both of us?"
"Affirmative, Cyclops."
"Good. We'll search the station proper."
"What about us?" Jubilee asked, hiking a thumb toward Bobby.
Cyclops shook his head. "You're both to stay on board."
"What? No way, Scott! I'm here to help!" Jubilee protested.
"Out of the question. The Marauders are merciless killers. I'm not putting you at risk."
"How is that different from anyone else we face? C'mon, Cyke, you need all the help you can get! You said yourself that time is of the essence."
"She's right," Bobby chimed in, stepping forward.
"Don't start with me, Drake," Cyclops growled. "We already discussed this."
"Yeah, Scotty, I know we did. But the fact is, you need me. You're already out one by leaving Hank in the plane. Two more people means we can cover an even larger search area. Besides, I can generate an ice-slide to get us all down there. That way, Storm and Cable can conserve their strength for the fight."
"All right," Cyclops conceded. "Iceman, you take point. Jubilee, you're with me, with Cable following, and Wolverine taking up the rear. Logan, you still check out the parking lot. Storm, you'll touch down on the roof under your own power. Cable will keep us all linked telepathically. Anyone spots Jean, give a mental shout to the rest. You encounter a Marauder, take 'em down, fast and hard. No dilly-dallying. Jean's depending on us."
"ETA two minutes," Hank called from the cockpit.
"You heard the man, people. Let's get into position."
End Chapter 20