Chapter Six
The British frigate sliced through the waves, its sails billowing in the warm Caribbean wind. The ship's captain lowered his polished brass telescope and grinned, his pointed teeth gleaming white under the shadow of his broad, black hat.
"By God, I think we have her, Miss Wagner!" he roared.
"Aye, sir!" his first lieutenant responded, rushing across the deck to join him by the railing.
"Get those cannon ready!" the captain ordered. "The French ship's gone around the cove, hoping to catch us by surprise, no doubt. What does that tell you?"
"She's gone and trapped herself, Captain!" Marti said, returning her father's grin. "According to the charts, there's only one way out of that harbor. If we cut it off—"
"Precisely my plan, Miss Wagner. But we'll have to be clever about it. Once we're out there, we'll be exposed. The trick will be speed—we'll have to hit them before they have a chance to fire. Beat to quarters! We'll have that Frenchman for a prize before the day is out!"
"Aye, Captain," Marti said and shouted across the deck. "BEAT TO QUARTERS!"
A rousing drumroll sounded, and the wooden warship became a frenzy of rehearsed activity as officers, marines and sailors sprang to their battle stations.
All except one man.
Forge blinked up from the space near the main mast, looking completely lost in his British naval uniform.
"What the heck is 'beat to quarters'?" he asked. "And where am I supposed to go?"
"Cessily! Edmund!" Marta shouted.
Two young officers, a junior lieutenant and a midshipman, clambered up from below decks in a clatter of heavy boots on wooden ladders. Cessily Kincaid, a sixteen-year-old shapeshifter with skin the color of mercury, came to attention at once, but Edmund, Marta's younger brother, had more trouble keeping still.
"Hi, Marti," he said, waving his pale-blue tail. "What do you need us to do?"
"That's 'LEFTENANT' to you, Midshipman," the first officer corrected. "Take Uncle Forge below and show him how to man the cannon. We'll be engaging the enemy soon. Where's Rachel?"
"Midshipman Summers was flying up around the crow's nest, last I saw," Cessily reported. "She said something about keeping watch."
Marta nodded.
"Very good. Then she should be reporting in soon. All right, you know your duty. Back to your places!"
"Aye, sir," the young officers chorused, and led the bewildered Forge down the narrow ladder into the dimness below deck.
This new training room was turning out to be better than anyone had hoped. Even though Marti knew the ship and the sea and the craggy island beyond were all hard-light holograms, it was hard to remember for long. The salt spray the ship kicked up as it rocked and splashed through the water tasted as real as it smelled. And, even though Marta's sense of spatial perception allowed her to 'feel' the precise dimensions of the room, the illusion of the distant horizon was real enough to fool her eyes.
Scanning the busy deck one last time, Marti strode back to her father, who was peering through his telescope again.
"Hey, Dad—I mean, Captain Wagner," she said.
"Yes, Lieutenant? Speak up!"
Marta had to hide a smile behind her hand. Her father had affected his best British accent for this game, throwing himself wholeheartedly into his role as a naval captain during the Napoleonic Wars.
"I was just thinking. How do you know Auntie Kitty really did make a mistake when she took her ship around the cove?" she asked. "What if she tries to lure us after her, then turns around and cuts us off?"
"A likely scenario—good thinking, Marta," Kurt said. "But I know our fair adversary. Captain Kitty wants to one-up me, to turn my own tactics against me—and no doubt she's taking advantage of Betsy's telepathy to do it. But Betsy's out of practice, and I still remember those tricks your Grandpa Charles taught me to mislead a telepath."
"Mislead... You mean you gave them the idea to hide out in the harbor?"
The captain winked, neither confirming nor denying, and marched forward to address the men. They were all holograms, except for Marta, Forge, Cessily, Edmund, and Rachel, but they were programmed to act and react just like a real 18th century crew.
"Men," the captain shouted, "when we fire the first round, I want you to aim high. Our intention is not to sink the Frenchman, but maneuver her into waters of our choosing. The right of the harbor is too shallow to float a corvette. If we can ground her, we can board her and sail her back to England as a prize to be refitted for service in the British navy. And you'll all have a share in the prize money when we do!"
The crew erupted into cheers. Kurt unsheathed his sword and raised it above his head, all ready to give the call to battle, when the simulation froze around him, the once solid illusion turning transparent and unreal. Suddenly, instead of being separated by some half a mile of waves and rocky beach, the French and British teams were standing right next to each other on the very dry, metallic floor of the training room.
"What the—?" Kitty exclaimed, looking like a skinny Napoleon in her elaborate French uniform. Her team—Betsy; Suzie; Doug; Tessa Mulvey, a fifteen-year-old with the power to manipulate time and space; and Feron, a strange kid who'd shown up around the same time Rachel had arrived for her training course with Excalibur—clustered behind her, just as confused as Kurt's. "Kurt did you do this?"
"It wasn't me," Kurt said, slipping back into his usual German accent. "Alice?" he called up to the control booth, now just barely visible through the ghostly holograms, "Did you—"
The space in front of them seemed to unfurl into a wide, flat screen. The screen flickered, then filled with Moira's face.
"Oh good, I got it to work," the Scotswoman said, her voice booming all around the cavernous room. "Sorry to interrupt your training, but I thought you'd like to know I've got the results back on our wee guest. If you two captains could see fit to put the war on hold for a few minutes, perhaps you might pay me a visit? I'm sure Napoleon won't mind."
"We're on our way, Moira," Kurt said.
The doctor cut the transmission. The moment the viewscreen faded out, the training scenario burst back to sudden life, with Kurt's crew still cheering.
Disoriented, Kurt clambered down to the main deck and shouted below to Forge, "Is there a way to save and exit this program?"
"Yeah, sure," Forge's voice called back, followed shortly by Forge himself as he cautiously climbed up the ladder. "The main computer's got a voice link now."
Looking up at the clear, blue 'sky,' Forge called out, "Save training program, Hornblower1, and exit!"
Kurt blinked in surprise as a row of typed words appeared across the sky: "Are you sure you want to quit?"
"Yes!" Forge said.
The words blinked once, then faded, taking the entire holographic illusion along with them—including their naval uniforms. Both teams were left standing in a dimly gleaming metallic cave dressed in their usual clothes.
"Whoa, weird," thirteen-year-old Rachel Summers said. "The Danger Room back home never did that! We have to turn the simulations off from the control room! Or blow them up…"
Forge grinned.
"Well, I told you it was new and improved."
"It was fantastic!" Edmund said, jumping up and down in his sneakers.
"It certainly was realistic, mein Freund," Kurt said, clapping Forge on the shoulder. "I look forward to doing this again. Perhaps a Western next time?"
"Yeah!" Marta exclaimed. "I want to play that Destry scenario, where the gunmen all have laser blasters and the saloon owner looks like Marlene Dietrich!"
"Ooh, I like that one!" Cessily said. "I call deputy!"
"I'll be the mysterious stranger," Marta said, "who comes to town looking for revenge."
"Hey—before you kids go too far, don't forget we didn't finish this scenario yet," Kitty pointed out. "I was looking forward to creaming your dad's butt!"
"Not a chance." Kurt grinned and lashed his tail. "I had you just where I wanted you. Is that not right, Betsy?"
The telepath looked confused, then her eyes widened in realization.
"Why you filthy sneak!" she exclaimed. "You tricked me! Your plan was entirely different than the one I saw in your mind. How did you do that?"
"Well, I did learn from the best," he said. "But it is actually a relatively basic mental discipline exercise all of us X-Men were taught during the war. If you truly want to join Excalibur, Besty, you'll have to become familiar with these techniques, and how to overcome them."
"So, that was a test, then," Betsy realized. "You were testing me to see if I would sense your bluff."
"Wait," Kitty said, her voice firm as she advanced on Kurt. "Are you saying you tricked me? That you knew we were waiting for you behind that cove?"
Kurt smiled.
"If you wanted to keep the element of surprise, Katzchen, you shouldn't have acted so smug when you chose Betsy for your team. It gave your strategy away from the start."
Kitty's eyes practically crackled.
"I'll get you for this, Fuzzy," she growled. "Next time. Just you wait!"
"I eagerly await the challenge," Kurt said with a polite half-bow. "But now, Moira is waiting for us. In the meantime, you Kinder should go do something productive with your time. Go grab a snack or watch the holovision. Training will resume this afternoon."
Cheering their freedom, the Junior Excalibur team raced from the room, all except Edmund.
"Dad," the ten-year-old said, "could I come to the med bay with you? I want to know more about the girl you brought here. And, I don't know… Maybe I could help."
Kurt hesitated for a moment, sharing a glance with Kitty. Kitty shrugged and Kurt nodded.
"All right, Eddie," he said. "Run up to the control booth and collect your mother, then we'll all go together."
The boy's powder-blue face split into a grin.
"Thanks, Dad!" he said, and ran from the room, trailed a little more slowly by the adults.
Jessalyn Prestcote sat wide-eyed and silent on the blue medbay cot, listening while the adults around her discussed her case. They'd all been in to see her several times since they'd brought her to this place, and she was starting to learn most of their names. But this time, there was someone new. An older boy with black hair and blue skin, and a tail like the tall, shadowy man with the scary eyes. Nightcrawler.
Noticing she was staring at him, the boy slipped away from the adults and walked across to her.
"Hi," he said softly. "I'm Edmund. Edmund Wagner. What's your name?"
Jessalyn turned away, clutching her knees to her chest.
"Hey, that's OK," the boy said, leaning against the cot. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. But I just wanted you to know, you're going to be OK here. And when you're better, there's a lot of kids around who'd like to meet you."
Jessalyn peered at him warily over her arm.
Edmund smiled, but his pale, gray eyes were troubled.
"You really are scared, aren't you," he said, looking as though he could feel it too. "There's something terrible, someone… I can't quite see…"
A ghostly outline began to materialize by the bed, a woman with dark hair. Jessalyn felt a strange tingle far, far back in her mind and huddled herself into a tighter ball.
Instantly, the ghostly image vanished.
"Sorry," Edmund said quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" But when Jessalyn didn't look up, he lowered his head and just listened to what the adults were saying.
"So, she's not a mutant, then?" Professor Alistaire Stuart said with interest, his nose red and chapped from his cold.
"She doesnae have the X-Gene, no," Dr. MacTaggert said, pulling off her glasses and rubbing her red-rimmed eyes. "What she has is a rare genetic disorder known as Treacher Collins syndrome. It's caused by a mutation in the TCOF1 gene, at chromosome 5."
"Yes, of course," Kurt said wryly, and crossed his arms, his long tail swaying behind him. "So what does this mean to our case? Do you believe the child's mother had this disorder as well?"
"I do indeed, and I've contacted the lab in London to be sure," the doctor said, and sneezed discreetly into her elbow. "Excuse me. Treacher Collins is inherited in an autosomal-dominant pattern, so there was a good likelihood that her mother was the carrier. Tests performed on the mother's DNA confirmed that diagnosis."
"All right, then," Brian said, clapping his broad hands together. "New theory. Our victim was in the wrong place at the wrong time and our loopy female serial killer mis-targeted her as a physical mutant."
"That is one possibility," Kurt said. "Alice, Betsy, have you learned anything so far about our unfortunate Ms. Prestcote?"
"Well," Alice reported, "like Meggan said, her husband Jim died three years after Jessalyn was born. Traffic accident, drunk student ran a red light but stayed at the scene, pretty straightforward case. He worked in real estate. Jeanine was a self-employed make-up artist, consultant, and distributor working mostly with theatrical groups. Neither of them had any enemies we could find, and the neighbors Betsy and I spoke with seemed genuinely distraught. Apparently Jeanine and Jessalyn were quite well liked."
Betsy nodded. She'd been training with Excalibur since they caught the case two days ago. Classified as a probationary applicant, she was not an official member of the team, but Kurt had been impressed with her willingness to start from the bottom and work her way up. That was why, despite Brian's objection that she wasn't really serious about leaving her modeling career for the demanding life of a superhero, Kurt had granted her request to shadow Alice.
"Everyone we spoke to had a kind word to say," she told them. "If Jeanine was targeted on purpose, I don't think it was by someone she knew."
"And has anyone found any correlation between her and the other victims?" Kurt asked.
"Not if the mutant factor doesn't pan out," Kitty said. "Maybe Brian's right. This may have been a terrible mistake."
"There is another thing," Dr. MacTaggert said. "At the autopsy, we found evidence the poor lass had been suffering from a cold. I took some samples, and found it wasnae the usual rhinovirus causin' her symptoms, but a protozoan. A wee waterborne beastie, I expect. I also took samples from Alistaire and myself. It seems we are both inhabited by the same creature."
"What are you saying, Moira?" Kurt asked. "Is our water supply contaminated?"
"Aye, so it appears," Moira said, and blew her nose. "An' not by any natural means. The beastie I found was homegrown. Genetically engineered."
She sighed and tucked her handkerchief back into her pocket.
"Kurt, I need Rahne. She's the microbe expert, not me. It's the only way we'll be able to figure out its purpose, and hopefully track it back to the source before our symptoms get worse."
"What do you mean, worse?" Alistaire asked nervously.
"I've done a bit of research," she said grimly. "Talked to colleagues, called hospitals. So far, every confirmed case of this bug has proved to be fatal."
Alistaire swallowed, and Kitty hugged his arm tight.
Kurt's tail shuddered.
"Your step-daughter is working for the government's disease control ministry now, isn't she?" he said. "I'm not sure they'd be willing to let her join us."
"They'll have to," Moira said darkly. "We have a very small window of opportunity here, where we can still make a difference before we're faced with an epidemic. Rahne's expertise may mean the difference between life and death for a whole lot of people."
"Very well. I'll make the official request," Kurt said. "If the bureaucrats refuse, I'll go pick her up myself."
"I'll go with you," Brian said, and Kurt teleported the two of them to the control room.
Edmund shot a concerned look at Jessalyn, then walked back to his mother.
"Mum?"
"Yes, love?" Alice said, looking rather tired.
"I think I know what the killer looks like. I started to get a picture in my mind, when I was over there with her." He pointed to Jessalyn.
Alice perked up a little.
"Can you show me, Edmund?"
Edmund tried to project the image, but the form refused to solidify. After a few intense moments, he had to stop with a gasp.
"Sorry," he said. "I can't get it to focus. But I'd know her if I saw her, I'm sure of it!"
Alice pursed her lips.
"Jessalyn is still in shock, Edmund," she said. "I know you're trying to help, but until she's well enough to talk I don't think we'll be able to get much more from her than shadows and static. She's closed her mind off tight."
"Not that tight," Edmund said. "She knows what's going on, and she keeps looking at me. See, Mum, she's doing it right now! I mean, just look at the way she's staring at us!"
He strode toward her, eager to try talking to her again, but Jessalyn's eyes grew wide and she hurled a pillow at his face with all her might. Edmund caught the pillow before it hit him, but Jessalyn began to scream. Her shrieks were wild and shrill, and once she started she couldn't seem to stop.
"I—I'm sorry!" Edmund exclaimed, clasping his hands over his ears.
Moira dashed over to put her arms around the flailing little girl, holding her as she rocked and cried and screamed.
Edmund stared, horrified to think he'd scared her so badly.
"Come on, Eddie," Alice said, taking him gently by the shoulders and steering him to the door after Kitty, Betsy, Forge, Meggan, and Alistaire. "Let's leave them alone for a while."
"I—I didn't mean to—!"
"It wasn't you, Eddie," his mother assured him. "I think, seeing us together, finally put her back in touch with her own emotions. For the first time, she's truly feeling the loss of her mother. That's what made her scream, love. Not you."
Edmund sniffed a little, then nodded.
"She hurts so much, Mum," he said quietly. "I just wanted to help her."
Alice smiled and bent down to kiss her son's straight, black hair.
"I think you did, pet," she said.
"Mum?"
"Yes, Edmund?"
"If you go to pick up Auntie Rahne, can I come too?"
"We'll see, love," Alice said. "Come with me to the kitchen and I'll make you some lunch."
To Be Continued…
