Chapter Three
"Isn't it great?" Forge said. The wiry Native American grinned like a proud papa as he leaned against the curved, transparent aluminum window that separated Excalibur's new observation deck from the completely redesigned Training Room below. "The whole thing's outfitted with cutting edge Simul-Gram technology, at least four years ahead of its time!"
"So, you've finally got it up and running?" Kitty Pryde Stuart asked, unable to hide her excitement. "Does this mean you've actually solved the problem? Because the last time we tried to upgrade the Training Room, the Manor's antiquated electrical system couldn't take it. We nearly frazzled the circuits for good."
"Hey, it's me, remember? Mechanical Marvel, Engineer Extraordinaire," the robotically-inclined mutant bragged, casually crossing his mechanical arm and leg over his flesh-and-blood limbs. "And I didn't just fix the problem, I obliterated it. Your problem was this old place was built back in the B-E times: before electricity. When I went crawling around, I found remnants of the old tubes that used to provide gas light to some of the bigger rooms, and it seems when electricity came into vogue the electricians pretty much took advantage of the gas system that was already in place to make the conversion. Well, I changed all that. This entire Manor has been brought up to date, so now your power flow can be juiced up to the max with no worries about burn outs or blown fuses—or even storms, for that matter!"
Kitty clasped her hands together with a squeal of joy.
"Finally!" she said. "Oh my God, I can't wait to try it out!"
"Why wait?" Forge asked. "The system's ready for a trial run. Do you have any particular programs in mind?"
Kitty thought for a moment.
"Well, Doug had an idea for a training exercise the other day—a sort of capture the flag team-challenge sort of thing."
Forge's brown eyes lit up.
"Doug—yeah! That little blond kid—the one who can pick up any language. He's been tagging around after me like a lost puppy the past few days, asking all sorts of questions. But he never said anything about being into computers."
Kitty smiled.
"Doug's talents aren't limited to human communication. We call him Cypher. He's got a strong talent for machine languages and computer codes as well. In fact, I've been working with him pretty closely since Scott sent him and those other newbies over here for training. I'll bet if we put our heads together, we could whip up a sim program that would stretch your Simul-Gram system to its limits by tomorrow."
Forge grinned a toothy grin that gave his darkly stubbled face a roguish look.
"That sounds—"
BAMF!
Kitty and Forge both jumped at the unexpected explosion in the shadows at the other end of the dimly lit space.
"Pooph, I know that sulfur stink," Forge said with a smile. "That you, Kurt?"
"No, it's me," Marta said. "Auntie Kitty, I—"
"Marti!" Kitty gave her a welcoming wave. "It's OK. Come on over here. Your Uncle Forge has just proved his genius once again. At long last, the much neglected European branch of the International X-Men Organization finally has its own working training simulator."
That took Marti aback for a moment.
"We do? You mean, like that brilliant Danger Room at IX-MO Headquarters in New York? The one Uncle Scott said was restricted to 'experienced IX-MO officers only' last time we were there?"
"Better," Forge told her with a grin. "The one Cyke's got is last year's model. This one's fully upgraded, with cutting edge holo-projection emitters. Step into this baby and you guys won't be able to tell the difference between the simulation and reality."
"Fantastic!" Marti exclaimed. "And do we all get to use it? Even the Junior X-Men and the trainees?"
"That's what it's here for," Kitty said. "To train you kids—get you ready for real missions in the real world the same way your father, Scott, and I were trained by Professor Xavier back in the old Bayville days."
Marti pressed a three-fingered hand to her chest.
"I may faint," she said, and giggled. Running to the curved window, she leaned forward and looked out over the expansive metallic space, her long tail swaying behind her.
"Oh, but this is brilliant! When do we get to try it out?"
"Tomorrow, if Doug and I can whip up a new program," Kitty told her.
Marti beamed.
"Yes! We have to tell everyone! I can go find—oh, oops!"
The teenager flushed darkly beneath her fine, fuzzy fur.
"Oh, sorry Auntie Kitty, I almost forgot. I already have a message. It's from Dad. He wants the team to assemble in the hangar and prep the Blackbird for takeoff."
Forge tilted his head curiously. The middle-aged mutant wasn't a member of Excalibur, or even the X-Men, officially—more of a technical attaché with his own thriving business as a freelance consultant and inventor. But no matter how crazy his schedule, Forge was always happy to lend a hand to his friends at IX-MO.
"You guys got a new mission?"
"I think so, but I don't know any of the details," Marti said. "All I know is Commander Thomas was asking for Dad on the Priorty A channel. He's talking to him now."
Kitty sighed and cast a longing glance over her shoulder at the empty training space.
"Sorry, Forge," she said. "You know how it is. Who've you collected so far?" she asked Marti.
"You and Mum, Uncle Alistaire, and Dr. MacTaggert," she said. "I haven't been able to find Uncle Brian. Do you know where he is?"
"You might check the lighthouse," Kitty suggested. "He's been spending a lot of time out there lately."
Marti nodded.
"Right, I'll check it out. Let me know when the simulation program's ready, though. I want to be the first to try it!"
The indigo teenager grinned, then teleported away, creating a soft implosion as the air rushed to fill the space she'd left: BAMF!
The Nexus Lighthouse stood tall and gleaming white on its rocky island, some three miles out from Braddock Manor. The turbulent sea churned and splashed around the island's base, its salty spray misting the grasses at the top of the rugged cliffside.
Betsy Braddock closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, leaning over the safety rail that ringed the top of the lighthouse so the playful wind could catch and lift her purple hair.
"Mmmm, I love the smell of the sea," she purred. "Do you remember, Brian, when we were younger, how I would stand at the edge of the cliff that marked the end of our property. I would inch forward until I could feel the wind under my toes, then spread my arms and dream that I could fly."
"Sure I remember," her muscular twin grunted, his blue eyes disapproving in his chiseled face. "Nearly sent our father into a conniption, you did. And you'll do the same to me if you don't step back from that railing."
"Oh, but Brian, it isn't fair," Betsy said in her most petulant voice. "That you get to be Captain Britain and wear that special suit that lets you fly whenever you want. You get to have all these powers—"
"You could have had them too, Betsy," Brian said, crossing his burly arms over his broad chest. "The suit fits the wearer. If you'd accepted Roma's offer, become an agent of Otherworld, you would have had one of your own. But you wanted to become a fashion model, a walking clothes hanger for all the trumped up tailors of Milan, Paris, New York, Tokyo, and London."
"I was young, Brian," Betsy said, turning to face him and leaning her elbows casually on the railing behind her. "Young and foolish and dazzled by the flash of the cameras, the lure of fame's siren song."
"And you achieved that fame," Brian said. "You're a major supermodel. I don't understand what you're complaining about, Betsy. It's not like you don't have powers of your own."
"My telepathy, do you mean?" Betsy said, a delicate glow of energy appearing around her violet eyes like a butterfly-shaped mask. She blinked and the energy mask faded.
"That's nothing. I still can't fly. Not the way that you do."
"But, I can't leave the UK, Betsy," Brian said. "Not for extended periods and never without my suit. And while I am here, I must guard this lighthouse—"
"I never did understand all that fuss about this old lighthouse," Betsy said, coiling her long purple hair around her fingers. "That trandsimensional nonsense about this structure existing in every reality simultaneously, throughout the multiverse…"
"This lighthouse is like a pin, fastening this world to all other possible realities," Brian said. "Here, the walls between realities are exceptionally thin and weak. If I were not here to maintain this structure, those walls would begin to break down—"
"Allowing weird, dangerous creatures to cross over from their reality to ours, I know." Betsy sighed. "But couldn't that Roma woman just assign one of her own Otherworld bureaucrats as custodian? Isn't it Otherworld's job to keep the realities in balance?"
"I am Otherworld's agent here in Britain," Brian said firmly. "And I take my duties seriously. That is why, twin sister or not, you cannot borrow my suit."
Betsy's eyes widened.
"Your suit? But who said anything about—"
"You didn't have to say it. I know when I'm being finagled, especially by my own sister. Now, I want you to get this clear in your head. You can not borrow my suit. If you want to fly, take a plane or ask me and I'll fly you out here with me. And all the blinking, pouting, posing, finagling, manipulating and blackmailing in the world won't change my mind. Are we clear?"
Betsy rolled her violet eyes.
"Oh, quite clear," she said with a pout. "You never were one for sharing, even when we were children."
"This isn't about sharing, it's about responsibility," Brian said. "And you would know that if you had any sense of the meaning of that word."
"What, 'responsibility'?" Betsy snorted. "Sure, I know responsibility. In fact, that's really why I dropped by today. I figured it was about time I took some on. Started to give back, as it were."
"What do you mean?" Brian asked warily.
"We're not getting any younger, dear," Betsy said. "And this modeling lark just isn't as rewarding as it used to be. That's why I was thinking…"
"What?"
"Maybe it's time I move back home. Join Excalibur. Become an X-Man. Or, rather, an X-Woman."
She slid her hand to her hip and smiled.
Brian closed his eyes and pinched his nose.
"Betsy…" he started.
BAMF!
Betsy clapped a manicured hand over her heart.
"Dear Lord, what was that? Did the light bulb blow?"
"Sounded more like that fuzzy German hobgoblin to me," Brian grunted.
"I'm not German, I'm English, just like you," Marta said, stepping out of the glass lantern room onto the balcony. "Hi, Uncle Brian. You're wanted back at the Manor. The team's meeting in the hangar."
Betsy's eyes widened at the sight of the long-tailed redhead.
"Is that—? But it can't be Marti! Little Marti Wagner, is that you?"
"Aunt Betsy!" Marti grinned and ran into Betsy's open arms. "Wow, when did you get here?"
Betsy gave the girl a warm squeeze, then held her back at arm's length to get a good look at her.
"When did you get so big?" the supermodel exclaimed. "Why, you're nearly as tall as I am. How old are you now? Fourteen? Fifteen?"
"Sixteen," Marta told her.
"No!" Betsy said. "Why, I was just one year older than you are now when I started out on my modeling career! Can you believe it, Brian?" she asked, and looked at her scowling brother. "Little Marti is sweet sixteen!"
"I do live here, Betsy," he said. "And if you had deigned to grace us with your presence more often you would know not only Marta's age, but Samuel's and Eliza's as well."
Betsy let Marta go and tilted her head.
"Your little twins? Well, if Marta's sixteen, then they couldn't be more than…"
"They're eighteen, Betsy," Brian said. "Your niece and nephew are eighteen years old."
"Impossible!" Betsy stated. "Well, that settles it then. I am definitely moving back home!"
Marta's jaw dropped and she let out an excited squeal.
"What, really? You mean you—Psylocke—you're going to be living at the Manor with us?"
Brian frowned.
"That hasn't been decided yet—"
"You bet, kiddo," Betsy talked over him, shooting Marta her biggest smile. "It's time."
"Now Betsy…" Brian warned.
"Brian dear, lend me your shoulder, won't you?"
"What?" Brian started, but Betsy grabbed his shoulder and jumped up, forcing him to catch her in his arms. "Huh? What do you think you're—"
"Fly me home, Captain Britain," the supermodel said, wriggling herself into a more comfortable position. "Marti, do you need a lift? I'm sure my brother would be more than happy to oblige."
"No, I can make it on my own. Great to see you again, Aunt Betsy! I can't wait to tell everyone the fantastic news!"
BAMF!
Betsy gasped as the girl vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I don't know if I can get used to that."
"Well, if you hope to join Excalibur, you're going to have to," Brian grunted. "Right, hold tight. I'll fly you home."
Dr. Moira MacTaggert's sneeze resonated across Excalibur's cavernous jet hangar. The spectacled Scotswoman patted her pockets in search of a tissue, but Professor Alistaire Stuart beat her to it, holding out a clean blue handkerchief for her to take.
"Here you go," the lanky physicist said, and sneezed himself, nearly knocking his wire-rimmed glasses off his face. "Agg, God," he sniffled, holding a hand over his nose.
Dr. MacTaggert let go of the hanky, but Alistaire shook his head.
"Doe, doe, take id," he insisted. "Id's all ride. I hab anoder."
"Thangks," Dr. MacTaggert said, bringing the handkerchief to her nose.
"Oh no," Kitty said, holding a cool hand to her husband's head as Alistaire blew his nose into a red handkerchief. "Do you still have that cold? Honey, if you're sick, maybe you should stay home."
"No, I think it's getting better," Alistaire assured her. "I'm all right."
"As am I," Dr. MacTaggert said, tucking the blue handkerchief into her pocket.
Kitty still seemed concerned.
"I don't know. Alice, Meggan and I were watching a report on the news this morning, about that weird summer flu that's been going around. Five people have already died from it, and they still don't have a vaccine out."
"Kitty, there's an old doctor's sayin'," Dr. MacTaggert told her. "If it looks like a horse, sounds like a horse, smells like a horse and walks like a horse, it's probably going to be a horse, not a zebra. Alistaire and I have caught a touch of the summer sniffles, that's all. I've got me eye on it. If our symptoms get any worse, I'll see we take the proper steps."
"What if you're too sick?" Kitty asked.
"Then I shall tell young Eliza to take the proper steps," Dr. MacTaggert retorted. "The lass has been doing a fine job in her nursin' classes, and has become a big help to me."
Kitty frowned.
"Hm. My husband's life in the hands of a hyper-emotional teenaged girl. Somehow, I am not reassured."
"Calm down, love," Alistaire said, taking her arm. "You're making a Category 5 hurricane out of a mere sneeze."
Kitty sighed and leaned into him until she was resting her head on his shoulder.
"You're probably right," she said. "But I think I have a right to worry when—"
"OK, Betsy, here we are! Excalibur's hangar," Alice Wagner announced, striding into the cavernous space with Brian Braddock, his wife Meggan, and his sister Betsy in tow.
Alice's grandparents had come from India, but she and both her parents had been born and raised in Northumberland, in the north of England. Now in her mid-forties, Alice's smooth copper skin showed little sign of aging, and her long braid was still jet black. Her hair was tied back with a thick red ribbon and, like her companions (with the exception of Captain Britain and Betsy), she wore the standard form-fitting black, gold, and red uniform of an IX-MO officer with Excalibur's insignia printed over the left side: the word EXCALIBUR in gold, outlined in red with one long, silver sword running horizontally through the letters and two shorter swords crossed to form the 'X'. Brian wore his own special suit, mostly white with the colors of the Union Jack crossed over his chest, arms, and the mask that covered his chiseled face and butter-blond hair. Betsy was dressed in ordinary clothes—if an expensive designer top and jeans could be called ordinary.
"Sorry we're late, but as you can see we had an unexpected guest drop in—" Alice started, then paused as her eyes drifted over the gathered group. "Wait a moment. Where's Kurt?"
"I'm here, I'm here," came Kurt's accented voice as the indigo mutant jogged into the hangar. "If the jet's prepped, let's hop on board. We need to be in Kingston-Upon-Thames in fifteen minutes."
Captain Britain stepped forward.
"Why?" he asked. "What's going on?"
Nightcrawler stopped half-way up the ramp that led into the Blackbird.
"I will brief you all on the details once we are in the air," he said. "But it seems our mutant killer has struck again—this time in a department store. Commander Thomas wants Excalibur on the scene."
"AAACCHOOOO!" Alistaire sneezed.
Nightcrawler looked from him to Kitty, noting the concerned look on Shadowcat's face.
"Alistaire," he said, "you stay here. I left Marta in charge of the kids, but I'd like you here as well, just in case."
Shadowcat's expression noticeably relaxed.
"You can talk with Forge," Shadowcat suggested, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm sure he'll be glad of the company of a fellow scientist."
"What about Betsy?" Alistaire said. "Surely she's not going."
"Betsy?" Nightcrawler looked at the supermodel in surprise. "When did you get here?"
"I arrived this morning," Betsy said. "But, I can see this isn't a good time for welcomes. I can wait here with Alistaire until you lot get back."
Nightcrawler nodded.
"Sehr gut," he said, and started back up the ramp. "The rest of you, let's go. I've already cleared our flight path, and Dai's arranged for us to land the Blackbird in the car park."
As Nightcrawler disappeared into the jet, Kitty kissed Alistaire's cheek.
"Get some rest," she said, joining the others as they filed up the ramp.
Alistaire and Betsy watched as the curved ceiling opened wide. The sleek, black jet powered up and lifted off, rising straight up into the clear, blue sky. A moment later, the powerful machine was little more than a deafening memory fading into the distance.
"They'll be back soon enough," Betsy said, smiling at Alistaire as she led him out of the hanger and back into the main building. "Come on. Let's go see what those kids are up to."
To Be Continued…
