Kid Dynamo, Chapter Four "This is Your Life" by Connie Hirsch Our Story So Far: Jessica Pierce had known from the age of 11 that she was telekinetic. _Very_ telekinetic. She also knew that her mother, Noemi Majewski (Firefall), a former member of the Brotherhood of (Evil) Mutants was wanted across Europe for anarchist activity. So, even though Jessica couldn't completely hide the fact that she herself was a heat- and fire-proof mutant, she tried to keep secret the extent of her abilities, lest she come to the unwelcome attention of very many ill- intentioned people. But there was no hiding it from the Big M, better known as Magneto, Master of Magnetism, currently contemplating a former life of terrorism while he headmasters a school for young superheroes, who had rescued her while in pursuit of his errant students. Jessica's already decided that she isn't going to stay at the school any longer than the month she promised, despite the fact that she has nowhere else to go and she'd rather like it there if it weren't for the presence of the man responsible for the death of her mother.... "You are not required to stand for this test," Magneto said. Was there a trace of concern in his voice? "I can provide you with a chair if you prefer." I shook my head. "It's not a ...physical exertion for me," I said. "At least I don't think it is. Doesn't matter what I'm doing when I lift, as long as I'm not distracted." "In that case, a future test may involve a treadmill or other physical challenge." I grimaced and a faint smile quirked the corners of Magneto's thin lips. "However, today's tests are only to measure your strength level and other basic parameters of your talent. Shall we begin?" "Sure," I said. There was an impressive looking ram suspended from the Danger Room's ceiling over a platform we stood next to. I was going to attempt to keep the ram from moving downward using my telekinesis. I was dressed in the standard black and yellow killer bee outfit; Magneto wore a dark purple jumpsuit with a standup collar that was actually quite dashing. He should have had a little patch over his left breast that said "Magneto," though. I reached and took psychic hold of the ram. "All ready," I said, trying not to sound nervous. "Hmmm," he said, looking down at the portable console that floated in front of him. "Jessica, would you focus your area of influence upon the bottom part of the ram?" "Huh?" I said brilliantly. "Ideally, I'd prefer to see you only press upward against the ram," he said. "But as you seem to need a focus for your motive power, the base will have to do -- not the shaft or any of the internal machinery." "Might mess up the reading, huh?" I said. I restricted my grab as I spoke. "I've installed psion detectors throughout the structure," he commented, typing on a keyboard on the console, "the better to measure exactly how you employ your power." "Okay, just the plate on the bottom," I said. "Anything else?" "Just that the ram's strength will increase smoothly. Say 'Stop' if you need to. Test commencing _now_," he said and decisively pushed a button. There was a slight throbbing in the ram plate and the assembly started to move. I decided to keep the plate level with a handy mark on the wall and easily stopped it when it was reached. I don't mean to sound like I'm boasting, but it was easy. As I said earlier, it's not an exertion for me. "What are we up to?" I said after a minute had passed. "I'd prefer not to say just now," Magneto said. "Just for the record, how much do you think it is?" I looked over at him. I don't need to look at what I'm lifting; it isn't visual at all. "Uh..." I said, "actually, I haven't the faintest... 10 tons?" "You exerted more than that last Thursday," he said, that faint smile making a reappearance. "You mean you're not going to tell me," I said. "And influence your performance by bringing in preconceptions regarding the difficulty of certain strength levels? No, I want you just to exert yourself cleanly, and later when we examine your run we can put numbers to it." "Okay," I said. "But I'd like to know, anyway." We were quiet for maybe another minute -- I could feel the pressure gradually increasing, in the same way I could differentiate between 250deg F and 300deg F -- it was more weight, more push, but way below what I knew I was capable of. "Stand by," he said. "I'm going to add my strength to the ram now." I watched as bright streamers of force rose from his hands and suffused the shaft of the ram. It was fine until the glow reached the plate I was grasping. "What the hell?!" I said, joggling the plate and almost losing it. I overcompensated with the upward push, forcing the ram back into the ceiling. Magneto's touch had been like a palm full of joy buzzer or biting down on tin foil; not painful but not pleasant, unlike anything I'd felt before. As for the Master of Magnetism, he was looking at me with a speculative look. "I take it you felt that too?" he said. "An interesting phenomenon we shall have to explore in a future session. I shall take care not to let our areas of influence overlap for now." He lifted his hands and started pushing down again. The weight started really increasing now. "If I'm going too fast, say something," he said. "There seems to be no need to dawdle." "If your aim was not to intimidate me, I'm afraid it's not going to work," I said. "You know, pushing against you is as useful as holding back the tide. What kind of an upper limit do you have, anyway?" "Unknown," he said. "Since my resurrection I have not encountered a situation where an upper limit to my power has been reached." "Huh," I said. I tried not to think about just how hard the ram was pushing -- I knew I'd never be able to push back hard enough. We continued another minute. I could feel the steel creak with the pressure we were exerting. Beside me, Magneto gradually took on a visible aura, white with a touch of blue to it, moving like a cold fire over his body. His eyes glowed too -- quite literally, a most amazing sight. With a groan, the plate I was pushing cracked, the shaft punching through the steel like a fist through a paper door. My concentration was split between the piece of the plate adhering to the shaft and the remains of the plate. I was unable to hold up the shaft as I desired to, and Magneto's strength abruptly pulled the assembly loose from the ceiling. Bits of machinery cascaded down. Our powers were all tangled up as Magneto caught the whole mess. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I blurted, "The plate broke!" "[Calm yourself,]" he said in German. "[It wasn't up to the stress -- was not built for such pressure]." It felt like my head was full of angry bees and I'd had these weird semi-visual flashes when our powers had meshed briefly. "[You will sit,]" he said in command mode familiar German. I sat, a chair had appeared right behind me, while he glowed brighter and the ram reassembled itself. By the time he was done it looked good as new and my dizziness had passed. "I miscalculated," he said turning back to me. "I should have checked the plate for stress fractures before subjecting it to such a test. My apologies." "S'okay," I said. "I figured I'd broken the Danger Room again." "Far from it. However, the next time we try to measure your strength I'll build a titanium alloy ram." "Right," I said, head in hands. He touched my shoulder and I was so distracted it hardly registered. "How do you feel now?" he said. "Okay, I guess," I said. "Touching your power was ...weird." "A most unusual sensation," he said. "Rather like an electrical shock must feel, I imagine." "I guess you can't get shocked, huh?" I said. "No more than you can get burnt." He looked down at his console, eyelids with thick white eyelashes fringing those intense blue eyes. "When and if we have time, I'd like to experiment with meshing our powers again. No doubt we could learn something of their _raison d'etre_ by examining their interaction." "All I've learned is that it ain't pleasant," I said. Magneto ignored the slang. "Charles maintained I have a strong natural mindshield," he said. "Perhaps this was why the interaction was less painful for me...." We repaired to the debriefing room, where he'd set up a largish video screen and several more consoles. "Now we can begin a proper analysis," he said with a wolfish smile. He actually seemed to enjoy teaching, a surprise to me. Magneto had monitored my heart rate, blood pressure and respiration. He'd have liked to run an EKG as well but hadn't been able to come up with a way to get it to work through my bodyfield. "It's like my body decided what was normal and works to keep it that way," I'd explained earlier. We watched three screens simultaneously, one camera focussed on me, one on the ram and one displaying readings for physical data, including psion readings at various points on the shaft, and total pressure exerted. Well, he promised me numbers.... The push had increased a lot more than I'd thought. The load when I'd asked how much was nearly 70 tons. "This is a cliche," I said. "I don't know my own strength." "I believe the expression 'it gets worse' applies," he said. "I suspected telling you the test would commence at 40 tons weight might inhibit your expectation of your performance." "I think you were right," I said. "We come to the interesting part now," he said, typing on the keyboard. The picture with the camera on me split, adding Magneto, likewise the telemetry readings split. He kept typing and eventually an "Estimated Weight" appeared at the bottom of the screen. When our powers had first touched it was fascinating to see the readings jump about. "We'll come back to this," he said. Even his readings had joggled but not as bad as mine. There were a number of exotic readings on his half of the screen and I asked about them. "My own power prevents electrocardiogram measurement," he said. "So I track magnetic flux and electrical potential." According to the readings, if I understood them correctly, he'd been putting out enough energy to light a small town -- and that was just in his visible aura -- the real expenditure had been pushing the ram downward. I watched unbelieving as the tonnage ran into the hundreds. "That can't be right," I said at last. "An estimate of course, but accurate to 5 or 10 tons," he said, a touch amused. "You seem to underestimate your ability..." When the plate broke I'd been lifting 714 tons, plus or minus another ten. I looked over at him and he was smiling at me again. "You really think this is funny, don't you," I said. "Your reaction now is somewhat diverting," he said carefully. "I appear to have a better grasp of your capabilities than you do." "Okay, so what _can_ I do, anyway," I said. "I have a theory," he said. "As you know, your bodyfield absorbs excess heat, as well as other ambient energy. Assume for now that you store it somehow, perhaps a pocket dimension that acts as a battery. The physics of this are pure speculation -- I've encountered the same conceptual problem with my magnetic powers; I have studied those for almost 40 years without a definite conclusion as to why and how they work." I was quiet. When a scientist of Magneto's caliber says the physics of something is beyond him, it's rather daunting. "As I said, into the battery goes excess energy. When you employ your power you draw from that battery or other dimension. However, there may be a limit on how fast you can draw or how much the alternate dimension will hold." "At the height of your ...demonstration last Thursday, you exerted well in excess of 714 tons. An interesting phenomenon occurred at that time - - room temperature in the Danger Room dropped almost 10 degrees." "I noticed it had got cold, but it didn't connect," I said. "So," he said. "Anticipating this, I had the cameras take a thermographic record of you." A few touches on the keyboard and the pictures on the monitors changed. It showed a silhouette of me with a waving corona of "flames." "The colors are keyed to temperature in the air about you," he commented. A small scale, graduated by the intensity of the color for temperature flashed on the screen. In a vastly speeded up sequence, we watched the "flames" grow about me as I drew on the ambient heat energy. "A very elegant adaptation," he said. "Totally unconscious and automatic." "So I draw energy from my surroundings," I said. "I don't think I ever did that before." "I doubt you have exerted yourself in the manner you have before today," he said. "That's for sure," I said. I was silent as he typed some more on the console, thinking about how I really hadn't wanted to know I could lift 1.4 million pounds with ease. "Now here is another interesting aspect of your power," he said, tapping the screen. "Look at this graph of psion output versus lift generated." The psion reading was a very slight incline, while the lift went straight up. "I'm superimposing an extrapolation of Jean Grey's output for a similar situation." Her psion curve went up in direct proportion. "This was in her pre-Phoenix phase, when her psion rating went no higher than 150 psi, so she could never have supported such a load." "And when she was Phoenix?" I said. "Unmeasurable," he said. "The one time she was tested by Moira she took the equipment up to its limit. We've refined our ability to measure raw psion output since then and would have a better chance of rating her now -- yet I suspect she would still confound us." "She was a lot more than a telekinetic," I said. "Just so. She displayed an astounding range of abilities, among them matter-transformation and a species of teleportation. However, I called up Jean's statistics for comparison purposes -- it seems your telekinesis operates along an entirely different mode." He touched another key and a third graph was superimposed on the screen. The psion incline was flatter, but the lift was nearly the same. "More efficient," I said. "By a slight amount," he said. "But a closer match to your model -- call it a Type II telekinetic," "Type II?" I said. "I mean, I've read what literature there is on telekinesis and never heard there was more than one." "It's a theory of my own devising. We know that mutant powers -- and many non-mutant powers -- have a common basis. It seems that telekinetics can be grouped in three broad categories, perhaps more. Type I's are pure psychic telekinetics -- they tend to have a full armamentarium of other psi powers. Type II's are energy manipulators such as myself -- where psions are employed as energy-carriers, instead of being the motive force in and of themselves." "Yours are electromagnetic carriers," I said. "Since that is the most obvious application, I simplify and refer to my power as magnetic," he said. "Your psion output would seem to carry sheer kinetic energy." I digested that. It made sense. "And Type III's?" I said. "Type III's psions have a strict affinity for physical objects or substances. For instance, Iceman's power over the kinetic energy of water molecules only. Amara may qualify as a Type III, by some definitions." "Storm?" I said. "More a Type II than a Type III," he said. "Perhaps she needs a separate category unto herself." "I see how this system of classification is open to debate," I said, looking again at the displayed graphs. I tapped the screen with my index finger. "That third curve -- it's you, isn't it?" Magneto smiled. "Just so," he said. "Though our powers have a marked difference, they are similar enough that I may prove an effective teacher -- in some areas at least. But for that we must determine more parameters in the half hour we have left to this lesson." "Determining parameters" was what he called having me fly an obstacle course. What really fascinated him was my ability to stop. To put it in cliched terms, I could stop on a dime, no matter how fast I was going. Of course, there wasn't a lot of room to build up speed, though I surprised myself again -- when I tried to move just over a short distance the air crackled menacingly. "Excellent," the Big M called from the control room. He must have had a half dozen cameras focussed on me as well as the sensors pasted on. "In future sessions we shall crack the sound barrier," he said. I wished I felt as pleased as he did at this prospect. "But we will have to develop a personal shield for you first, if you aren't to burst your own eardrums," he added as an afterthought. "At least friction is not likely to be a problem." The last test was dexterity, using nuts and bolts and random bits of the Danger Room. He made me hold them in a simple straight line that extended to either side of me. I got up to 73 -- all held independently -- before I dropped something. "Damn," I said absently. "I've done better." "Fatigue has set in," he said. "But still an impressive performance." I didn't know how laconic Magneto's praise usually is, for him this was effusive. "I shall go over the tapes tonight," he said. "Next session will begin to explore the areas outlined by today's results." * * * After the lesson was over I went up to the kitchen and helped Tom prepare lunch. I suppose it was his and Sharon's matter-of-fact acceptance that had helped put me at ease over the past week. Underneath the Red Indian exteriors, Tom was still an Italian ex-cop from Yonkers, and Sharon a nice Jewish nurse from Queens. I'd learned a lot about their extraordinary history, and the history of the X-Men during the past weekend. Since I had access to the computer system, all the public records of the X-Men's missions and adventures had been available. There were some notable gaps and omissions, though Cyclops, who'd compiled the majority of the records was generally quite straightforward. The records had become terse and less fun to read once Storm had taken over as leader. What I'd looked at first had been the records of the X-Men's encounters with Magneto. God, he'd been a bastard. There was a lot that wasn't public knowledge -- probably just as well, I don't know what the average person could do about it except worry. Although Scott's words were pretty factual, I could do enough reading between the lines to suss out his true feelings. The most interesting episode had been Magneto's last attempt to conquer the world -- the one that should have worked, only he'd mysteriously given up after destroying a city in Russia. It turns out the X-Men had beaten him -- or rather, he'd all but killed Kitty Pryde and quit on his own. I remembered hearing about his activities when my mother had been in the hospital. Her chief physician, Dr. Jenks, had been pressing her to at least allow him to contact Magneto to determine what he'd done to her so they'd have a clue towards correcting it, but she'd been adamantly against it. I have no idea how Dr. Jenks had intended to go about contacting the Master of Magnetism -- classified ads? billboards? sky writing? But then had come the announcement that Magneto was trying to conquer the world again -- and some very tense weeks for the world until it was concluded he'd disappeared again. After that Dr. Jenks had given up on the idea. The X-Men's side of the story was ...interesting. Scott had been furious with Ororo for just letting Magneto slip away. I wondered, what was she going to do with him anyway? Hit him with a lightning bolt? Fat lot of good that would have done. No, he'd had success within his grasp and given it up voluntarily. That was an image of Magneto I found hard to believe. It was totally unlike everything I'd ever heard to actually have made peace with his enemies, but he had. That was the trouble with the bastard -- he was three times as complex as I was prepared to deal with. I'd expected a one-note humanphobe and instead there was this complex guy. Well, maybe I shouldn't have been quite as surprised. Noemi wouldn't have associated with someone who was so hateful and insane as the image I'd had of him; though she had mentioned often enough how much crazier he was than when she'd known him. His de-aging and re-aging must have really changed him; anything that traumatic would have been enough I suppose. The World Court had certainly operated on that theory. I didn't think I could ever forgive him for what he'd done to my mother, but it kind of panged me to realize I might be wrong to lay it all on the Magneto of the present for the acts of the Magneto of the past. I'd been neutral toward him ever since our little "talk" by the lake on Friday. All weekend I worked at relaxing when he walked into a room or said something. This wasn't as hard as it sounds, for the most part he was as quiet and unobtrusive as a person of his presence could be. And he hadn't made the slightest reference to my mother since I'd freaked out on him, for which I was quite grateful. Stevie's words kept nagging at me. I was afraid to confront him, afraid I might have to forgive him. Magneto the monster had been part of my landscape for so long that losing it to an image of Magneto the fallible man would be a major rearrangement, a true upheaval. The other thing nagging at me was how much I enjoyed being at the school. In the month I'd been a runaway, the novelty of days without classes hadn't quite worn out, but then P.H.S. 45 hadn't been great shakes either. Here were students I could respect and be myself with, friends I could make. The longer I stayed the harder it would be to leave at the end of the month. But I wanted to stay as long as I could.... "Penny for your thoughts," Tom said behind me and I nearly jumped. I'd been staring down at some celery as though it were the answer to world peace. "Just school and stuff," I said. "No penny needed." "You had your training session this morning," he said. "How did it go?" "Okay," I said. I really didn't want to go into it. "He's not leaning too hard on you?" he said. "No," I said. "Tell me, Tom, how do _you_ feel about working with Magneto?" He shrugged. "It's different than working with Charles. _That_ was tough to get used to, he's a telepath and he tended to be nosy -- but balancing that out, he was kind and eased the way for people. He helped me and Sharon out when we got transformed." "I was kind of confused when Charles disappeared in Paris and Magneto -- Magnus came back claiming he had promised to run the school in Professor X.'s place. But Rachel convinced us all he was on the level. I hadn't seen much of Magnus before that, even though he'd been running with the X-Men for several months -- kept to himself, didn't say much, hardly noticed the kids. So I was pretty doubtful when he moved into Charles's office." "I mean, here he was, a criminal terrorist and all. I used to be a cop, y'see. But it seemed better for the school -- for you kids -- if I went along with it." "The first couple of months were rough, what with the Beyonder, then Empath, then the Marauders. We hardly had time to complain about the way he ran things, we were working so hard just to keep things together." Tom stopped, looked down at the tuna salad he was mixing. "Funny thing was," he said, "when I look back at it, I don't see how he could have done anything different. He was a real brick when the Morlocks, what was left of them, evacuated here, working in the infirmary round the clock with Sharon and Moira and Betsy. And when the kids disappeared, he didn't let us despair. Kept the school open, sure they'd return." "It was a while before I had a chance to sit and evaluate how he was doing. Yeah, he'd been stiff the first few months, but he wasn't unkind or unfair. Lately he's been warming up, making these dry little jokes that Stevie has to explain to me. He'll never be my bowling partner, but I can live with that." "So you give him a thumbs up." "Charles told me stuff about Magnus's past that would curl your hair -- if it wasn't already curly," Tom said. "He was in Auschwitz, maybe other camps -- check out the tattoo on his arm when you get a chance. Given the same background, I don't think I'd've done better." "I'm still trying to get used to the idea of Magneto joining the X-Men," I said. "Life's full of surprises," said Tom. "I go one night to the hospital to check out a bear mauling -- in Westchester County, no less -- and end up being transformed into the Indian handyman at a school for mutant kids. Magnus joins his worst enemies. 'Dogs and cats living together.' All I can say is, sit back and enjoy life's rich parade." I laughed. "You make him sound like 'Magnus, Ordinary Guy.'" Tom shook his head. I wondered why he'd never cut his hair after being transformed. "An ordinary guy he'll never be," he said after a pause. "I'll grant him this -- for all that Master Race talk he used to spout, he comes very close to his own ideal." "As a...." I almost said 'human,' but I changed it to "...non-mutant, don't you feel threatened by him?" "Not after I worked with him a couple of months," said Tom. "Maybe he's decided some humans can get counted as honorary mutants -- or maybe he really has reformed." "I'll put my money on expediency," I said. "He'll treat non-mutants _nicely_ as a means to an end." Tom made a very Italian gesture with his hands, spreading his fingers out: who knows? "Speaking of a means to an end," he said. "What's this about you need to go grocery shopping for dinner supplies tonight?" "Yes, could you take me?" I said. "I want to make my mother's recipe for stuffed peppers, so I'll need fresh peppers and spices." "Oh sure," he said. "What are they stuffed with?" "Meat, silly," I said. "Oh, I thought it would be tofu or something, 'cause you're a vegetarian." "I don't impose my choices on other people," I said. "And it's a great recipe -- you've never had stuffed peppers like Noemi used to make them." I started arranging the sandwiches on a platter, decided I'd take a flyer on truth for once. "My reasons for being a vegetarian are kind of weird," I said. "Not that I'm for hurting animals, mind you. It's just that after my mother died the way she did, I can't keep cooked meat down." "I see," said Tom, simply but feelingly. "It's not the smell that bothers me, now," I said. "Though at first it did-- maybe I'm starting to get over it. Maybe if I cook meat for other people I can desensitize myself a bit more." * * * I marched into the small dining room bearing the platter of sandwiches. My fellow students were assembled for lunch: Sam with his blond hair still damp from his after-workout shower; Doug deep into some Japanese comic the size of a telephone book; Rahne frantically studying for an afternoon history test; Amara dreamily looking out the window, her hand on an open copy of _Gone With The Wind_. "Lunch is served," I said, to general interest. My fellow students dug in with a vengeance; it was a good thing I'd made what I'd naively considered extra. Maybe it was the fact that nearly everyone had had a physical training session that morning, either in the gym with Stevie and Tom or in the Danger Room. Or maybe it's an example of the fabled mutant metabolism at work. At any rate, I revised the number of peppers I'd be stuffing by a half dozen. Dani came in behind me looking beat. My workout had been all mental, hardly tiring; I was going to have to put time in on my own or I was going to go soft. "So how did your session go?" said Sam. He wasn't just making conversation -- he really was concerned. "Okay," I said, sitting down and taking a PB&J for myself. "I hear you broke the ram," said Doug. "Uh, yeah," I said. "Well, not actually the ram, just the plate on the bottom." "That's the one Colossus uses -- it goes up to 100 tons," said Sam. "You _broke_ it?" Dani said. "Just beginner's luck," I mumbled around my sandwich. I could feel a blush building up. "Hey -- two for two," said Doug brightly. "What's next? You gonna take out the mansion?" I looked straight ahead and pretended I hadn't heard. If I didn't respond maybe they'd let it drop. "Magneto must be thrilled," said Dani. "At last a student who'll give him a run for the money." I looked at her -- her tone hadn't been what you'd call friendly. "What do you mean by that?" I said. "Only that Big M has got himself a new prize pupil," said Dani. "'Cause you're the only one powerful enough to be worth getting excited about." I looked at her, uncertain whether to be mad or to wonder if she was right. Amara save me from having to decide. "That is unfair, Dani," she said. "Our teacher does not discriminate on the basis of how useful our powers are." "Tell it to Doug," said Dani. The aforementioned student put down his sandwich. "Oh no, you're not getting me in the middle of an argument," he said. "Just 'cause you're spoiling for a fight doesn't mean _I'll_ play. Anyway, how can Jess be the new prize pupil -- I didn't think Maggie had an old one?" "You mean you don't remember Our Little Miss Perfect?" said Dani with a raised eyebrow. Doug rolled his eyes. "It was easy for Magneto to understand her," he said to no one in particular. "It isn't Kitty's fault that she's a genius." "And a stuck-up little snot," said Dani. "Tha' is na' fair," piped up Rahne. "Oh, you never had to put up with her in class," said Dani. "A _born_ teacher's pet." "There's no shame in striving to perform well in class," said Amara. Sam had been silent during all this. "You're still burned that she's in the X-Men and you're not, Chief," he said. "Remember the way she treated us when Professor X made her join our classes?" she said. "She joined the X-Men when the rules were lax," he said. "And look what she's been through -- nearly killed a coupl'a times, still recovering in Scotland now. You envy her that?" "Students," said Magneto in the doorway. He was dressed in a new costume, this one purple, with white gloves and boots, with a darker red cape hanging nearly to the floor. I've never seen anyone carry off a cape better than the Master of Magnetism. "It seems that once again I am called away on business," he said. "I regret the short notice. All my classes are canceled for the afternoon -- I will post a revised schedule for the remainder of the week." With a slight nod he turned and left. A silence descended on the room that lasted until Illyana walked in smiling like a cat with canary on its breath. "Guess what's up with Maggie this afternoon?" she said. "He already told us, O Dread Snowflake," said Doug with a smile. "Well, fun and games all around," she said, picking up the last sandwich. "Not for me -- got more than enough programming to do," said Sam, "especially if our review session's been canceled." "Oh crumbs," said Dani. She looked over at me. "Do you want to do some reviewing this afternoon?" she said. "Sure," I said. I still had catching up to do. Dani might be a little crotchety today but she was a fair tutor. I guess three minutes went by without anyone speaking. Those who had reading material employed it. The rest of us ate in silence. "Have you thought about a superhero name yet?" said Doug. I looked up to see who he was talking about and realized he meant me. "No," I said. I hoped he'd drop it, but he went right on. "You've got to have a code name if you're going to join the team," he said. From the corner of my eye I caught Dani frowning. "Doug, I don't know how to break it to you," I said. "But I haven't the faintest desire to become a superhero. My mother ran around in a silly costume, and I figure one nut per family is more than enough." "With all your power, you're not going to do anything?" he said. "I don't see I'm obliged to," I said. "C'mon, we've had enough arguin' already," said Sam. "Jess, a code name makes good sense when you're part of a team -- even temporary like. If, the Good Lord forbid, somebody attacked us in public a code name would help protect your identity." "Yeah, like there are a lot of tall, curly-haired brunettes with telekinesis," I grumbled. "Yeah, you got a point. I'm just not thrilled about it." "A code name should be special," said Doug. "And if you don't choose one, we'll just have to pick one for you," said Illyana with a wicked grin. "Ah suppose Magneto could choose one for you, just like Professor X chose for us," said Sam. "I'm not letting anyone who chose to call himself 'Magneto' tell me what my name is gonna be," I said. "That's the spirit," said Illyana. "You've got a point," said Sam. "He didn't do too badly with 'Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch,'" said Doug. At least, I _think_ he gave them their names. Keeps their picture on his desk, anyway." "'Course, he also named the Toad," I said. "Two out of three ain't bad," said Doug. "Besides, would you admit knowing the Toad if you could help it?" said Illyana. "This isn't getting us any closer to a name," said Sam. "Okay," said Illyana. "How about 'Telekinesis Girl?'" I made a retching noise and Amara looked up from her book, an eyebrow raised. "Nothing with 'Girl' in it," I said. Or 'Lass.' Or 'Woman.'" "'Ms. Telekinesis?'" Doug said. I gave him a Look. "Or 'Ms.' or 'Miss' Anything." "Something that strikes fear in the hearts of yuir enemies," said Rahne. "'Taxes!'" said Doug. We looked at him. "'Death?'" he suggested. "Already taken," said Illyana. "'Jessica -- Mistress of Telekinesis,'" Doug said. I lifted his chair three inches into the air and jiggled it slightly. As he looked down uneasily I said, "Doug, if I ever, _ever_, refer to myself as 'Mistress of Anything' you have my permission to shoot me in my sleep." "Uh, okay," he said, and I lowered him to the ground without a bump. "Besides, I think they use the term 'psychokinesis' now," said Sam. "Great -- you could be the Psycho Kid!" said Illyana. "I thought she was already," said Doug. "You're really enjoying yourself with this, aren't you?" I said to him. "Well -- it _would_ strike fear into the hearts of your enemies --" he grinned. "No, it must be a name her friends can say with pride," said Amara. "I wasn't serious," said Doug. "You know that." "I was," said Illyana. "It should be beautiful," said Rahne. "Like 'Alystraea.'" "Oh no, not 'Alystraea' again," said Illyana, making a face. "That would strike _confusion_ into the hearts of your enemies," said Doug. "While they're going 'Alys-who?,' you could put them into orbit." "Who's 'Alystraea?'" I said. Rahne gave the terrible twosome a green-eyed glare. "Alystraea is a character Rahne writes stories about," said Dani. "She's a fairy princess, beautiful and brave and wise," said Rahne in a dreamy voice. "Who just happens to have red hair," said Illyana. "Who just happens to be able to turn into a wolf." "I should never have shown you my stories," said Rahne. "Ah thought they were great," said Sam. "I'd really like to see them," I said. "I like stories like that." Rahne smiled at me shyly. "Well, we can't call you Alystraea anyway," said Doug. "We'd get confused. Hmmm- 'Something Kid,' 'Kid Something.'" "All the good code names are taken," I said. "Stuff and nonsense!" said Rahne. "We just have to be clever." "Kid Dynamo!" said Doug. "Ech," I said to him. "It's a way cool song by the Buggles," he said. "I'll play it for you later." "'Lucy in the Sky?'" said Illyana. "'Polyethylene Pam?'" "'She's so good looking but she looks like a man?'" I quoted back at her. "No way. No thanks." "There's a lot of names in mythology and literature that no one's used," said Sam. "Umm," I said, looking at Amara. "Better leave mythology out. You never know when somebody from legend is going to show up." "Well, that leaves the field wide open for literature," said Doug. "Hey -- we could call you 'Ripley.'" "I don't think so," I said. "Besides, I wouldn't call _Aliens_ literature exactly." "Kitty used to call herself Ariel after the character in _The_ Tempest," said Sam. "I thought that was a pretty good name." "For Kitty, maybe," I said. "I really don't feel like a spirit of air, though." "Not a Juliet, nor a Kate," said Amara. "And certainly not a Desdemona." "What about 'Miranda?'" said Sam. I looked at him. "That's not _bad_," I said slowly. "Great!" Doug said. "Hey -- I didn't say I was going to take it. Maybe it's just the first decent one that's been mentioned," I said. "You should sleep on it, at least," said Sam. "Picking a name's not a light business, even if we're joking about it." "I like 'Miranda,' really I do," said Doug. "I preferred 'Psycho Kid,'" said Illyana. "You would," he said. "I know a better one," said Dani. "How about 'Supergirl?'" I stared at her, not knowing what to say. Of all the mean things Dani could have said, that one. As if Magneto wasn't offensive enough with his pet _Ubermensch_ ideology. She _knew_ how I felt about that. "_No way_," I said flatly. "Cool out, Chief," said Sam, looking from me to her. "Ah don't think that one's very appropriate at all." "Oh, I don't know," Dani said airily. I could see she was pleased she'd zinged me. "Just don't call me Supergirl," I said. "That's _offensive_." "Truth hurts," she said. I glared at her. "Cool out, the both of you," Sam said. "DC Comics would never let you get away with it anyway," said Illyana. "Get the Trademark Police after you." "Oh no -- not _the Trademark Police_," said Doug, and the conversation veered away into the purely silly. Dani excused herself and I finished my lunch thinking lonely thoughts of how I really didn't want to get any closer to the superheroic life than I was already. * * * Maybe it was just that time of the month for Dani, I mused as I went upstairs. I ran my hand on the smooth railing and said _Why not_? to myself. So I slid _up_ the bannister to the second floor just like Julie Andrews. Dani was standing on the landing, notebook in her hand. "Well, supercalifragilistic and all that," she said with a sneer. "You still up for studying?" _I will not lose my temper_. Aloud, I said, "Sure -- your room or mine?" "Mine, I got most of the notes there," she said. I followed her down the carpeted hall. Her room was a disaster area; clothes were strewn everywhere that papers and horse-riding gear wasn't. I cleared a chair by dumping all the clothes on the floor. "Hey -- what do you think you're doing?" Dani said as I sat down. "Redecorating," I said. "Who did your place, anyhow -- Louis of the South Bronx, Chief?" "Don't call me _Chief_," snapped Dani. "You haven't earned it. And don't dump my clean clothes on the floor." "Anything you say, Princess Tiger-Lily," I said. I stood up and lifted the clothes I'd dumped back into place. Dani frowned as I levitated myself into a sitting position. "Mind if I put some stuff away for you?" I said, picking up the sweaters heaped in an untidy pile on the bed. "Yes I do," she said. "Stop showing off, Supergirl." I'd started folding the sweaters up, but I stopped dead. "What did you call me?" I said, each word slow and definite. "Well, if the cape fits," she said. "Supergirl -- visitor from a distant planet, able to leap tall buildings -- " Dani didn't finish, because I threw the sweaters at her. "Don't call me that!" I said. "Then stop being such a little showoff," she said. "And leave my stuff alone. Supergirl." That was the last straw. If she hadn't called me that one last time, I would have just stomped out of the room. But no, Dani's always willing to push it. "I don't see how you can tell, this place is such a pigsty," I telekinetically yanked the drawers of the bureau and chest open and started pulling all the clothes out. "You'd think the closet had exploded or something," I pulled the doors of the closet open and flung the contents off the hangars, swirling everything through the room. "Hey," Dani yelled, "Stop!" But I kept right on, throwing them at her until she resembled a ball of clothing. Deep inside I could feel her struggling to get out, but I could counter any move she made. I smiled at my handiwork, and noticed a patch of air turning opaque in front of me. _How can you counter a spirit-form?_ I wondered, but I did not get a chance to find out then as Magneto's voice behind me said "What in the name of the Eternal are you doing?" I spun around in midair, open-mouthed. "What is the meaning of this?" he barked angrily. "Danielle!" I dropped all the clothes on the floor and Dani almost fell over. Magneto walked into the room between us, cape streaming behind. He must have been ready to go out. "Put your feet on the floor," he said to me and I complied. I realized I had not really seen him angry before; it was an almost palpable force. Did I smell the slightest whiff of ozone in the air? He looked from one to the other of us, around the room -- clean of its usual piles of clothes -- they were all around Dani's knees now. "I had thought you more _mature_ than this, Jessica," he said. "I did not think you would employ your power to bully a peer." I opened my mouth and shut it. What was I going to say -- "Dani was calling me names?" That was a childish reason -- a childish thing to do. I looked down at my feet. "Have you any explanation for your actions?" he prompted. I just shook my head. At long last he said, "Are you all right, Danielle?" "I'm fine," said Dani. "You were about to attack a fellow student with your power," he said. "I am disappointed in your behavior as well. No matter how provoked I did not think you would stoop so low." He stalked back to the door. A frown drew his face into sharp angles. "You both possess parahuman abilities that require a great deal of self-control to manage. I should think that fact, plus the other common background you share, would bring you together as friends, or at least teammates." He stood in the doorway and I could practically feel those cold blue eyes boring into me. At last he said. "Jessica, you will apologize to Danielle. And then you shall pick up every item of clothing in this room and put it back into place." I nodded, wordless. "Using your hands," he added. "I want you to think about what the use of your telekinetic talent demands in terms of moral responsibility while you do it." "As for you, Danielle," he said. "... I am surprised a young woman of your age and leadership qualities finds herself in this situation. Please think long on how you can avoid such a pass in the future." He inclined his head to me. "Jessica?" he prompted. "I apologize," Dani," I said, feeling on the verge of tears. "I was very wrong." "Accepted," she said, her eyes downcast, then she looked up. "Magneto," she said, "I provoked Jessica. I owe her an apology too." "So?" he said, as much exclamation as question. "I apologize, Jess," she said. She was blushing. "It's okay," I said. "If that is the case, Danielle," Magneto said, "I expect you will help Jessica with her task. And I do not want a repetition of this incident." With a snap of the cape he strode away down the hall. I sighed and untangled a dress from the pile around Dani. She looked at the space where Magneto had stood. "You didn't say anything about being provoked," she said at last. "It wasn't fair that you got the rap for it." "He was right to get mad," I said. I got a hanger from the closet and put the dress away. It hung all alone by itself. "If you told him what I called you, he wouldn't have blamed you," she said. "Illyana called him _Ubermensch_ to his face a couple of months ago and he made her write a ten page paper on the Nietzschean ideal of the Superman and how it compared to the comic book character." I picked up a couple of shirts. "He'd've probably made me write a 30 page paper," she said. "He's very touchy on the subject." "He should be, what the with Homo Superior line he still spouts," I said. "He did everything but tell us not to act like _humans_." Dani gave me a wry smile. "He'd've done better to tell us not to act like children," she said. "At least I was." "Well," I said. "There's a lot of that going around. Anyway, _he's_ a fine one to be lecturing about bullying." "Give me a hand out of this mess," she said, waving at the pile of clothes she stood amidst. Anywhere she stepped would have been onto them. "A hand or a lift?" I said. "Well, he said not to use your TK putting away clothes, not to not use it at all. And I don't mind," she said. "Okay," I said and lifted her above the mess and onto the bed, cleared for probably the first time in its existence. "Oh!" she said with a grin. "That didn't feel like anything at all!" "Is it supposed to?" I said curiously as I started folding up sweaters. She got up and started separating clothes into piles. "When Rachel moved you it felt like a giant hand was grabbing you. _That_ felt like floating." "Different strokes," I said. I mean, just because I'm telekinetic doesn't mean I know what it's supposed to be like. We were silent for a bit, working together. "You know, when he was here _talking_ to us, something occurred to me," Dani said. "I mean, this may not sound like a blinding revelation, but I realized I was _jealous_." "Huh," I said. Well, it wasn't exactly a revelation to me. "May the Spirit help me, I've gotten kind of fond of the old guy," she said. "And I also kind of like being co-leader of the team -- and you threaten that." "I'm not --" I started to say, but she cut me off. "No, no-- I don't mean to sound like you sat down and decided to become team leader. I'm talking about my end of the equation -- whether or not you're consciously trying, you're coming in here, being very competent and very powerful and deep down inside I'm threatened." "Really, I have no desire to lead," I said. "I'm not so sure," said Dani. I looked at her with a frown and she said, "What is leadership, anyway? It's more than the desire to impose your will on others or to have everyone look up to you. It's being definite about what you want. It's looking out for others. It's willingness to listen to your friends and help them. In fact, desiring leadership is almost a disqualification to true leadership." "I never looked at it that way," I said. "But really, I don't want to lead anything, I just want to be a doctor." "Doctors need a certain amount of leadership," she said. "Patients look to them, trust them. Nurses carry out their orders." "I think you're confusing a strong personality with leadership," I said. "I can see how I threaten you, though. I'm sorry. If there is anything I can do to reassure you I'll do it." "Just go on being a straight arrow, okay?" she said. "Let's keep talking, keep the dialogue open, and I'll do my best to keep the peace." "Pax, then," I said, and held out my hand. She had a firm handshake and we both smiled at the goofiness of it all. Then we got to serious work on the room. We worked in silence, broken occasionally by my asking Dani where something went. In the meantime I thought. It had taken me less than a week to go from revealing my telekinetic power to actually bullying someone with it. I hadn't hurt Dani or even upset her that much -- Danger Room sessions give you a very definite idea about what's dangerous and what's annoying. But I had still attacked her in a manner to which she couldn't respond in kind. Noemi had discouraged me from ever playing practical jokes with my TK. "It's terribly unfair, Love," she'd say, "to take advantage of people in the way you could. You'd end up terribly, terribly cruel, if you can hurt people without feeling for them." I'd never played a practical joke with my power. I'd had enough troubles to cope with people freaking out over my fireproof nature or walking in on me lifting something. I'd didn't need more trouble by going tripping people on their own shoelaces or moving things as unsuspecting people reached for them -- though I'd occasionally _wanted_ to. I'd have to be doubly on my guard, I decided. It was so easy to misuse my power for --well, less-than-good. A society where my talent was common knowledge was a very different situation than I was used to; a new role to get used to. And like it or not, I was powerful. Four hands made surprisingly swift work of Dani's mess. Dani was fairly cheerful by the end of it; I was still gloomy, still smarting over Magneto's reprimand. But in the spirit of reconciliation I took Dani's suggestion of a snack run to the kitchen and then we went over to the library for another adventure in learning physics. * * * "Tom, is there supposed to be a silver UFO hovering over the mansion?" I said, my heart in my throat. The school station wagon had just pulled in the gateway, and through the shedding trees you could see an ominous shape not visible from Graymalkin Lane. Tom's response was to slam on the brakes and kill the Volvo's engine. "Shit," he said and reached into the glovebox and pulled out a .38. "Fat lot of good it'll do us," he said to me. "But then you never know. C'mon-- let's get out of the open." We headed into the woods along the drive, abandoning the two dozen Green Bell peppers and the other dinner supplies we'd bought at the market. We crept into the dubious protection of the underbrush. Despite his Amerind appearance, Tom was a heavy-footed city boy in the woods. I was quieter, but then my feet weren't quite touching the ground. "Who is it?" I whispered. "Dunno. I'm not about to wait to find out either," he said. "First time I've had to use _this_." He pushed the "panic button" on his watch. It sent out an SOS that Magneto would be able to pick up anywhere in the world -- kind of the magnetic equivalent of a Bat- Signal. I wasn't exactly sure how it worked-- for all I know, maybe it _did_ put a big "M" into the ionosphere. "We better make for the hangar," whispered Tom. "We can get into the basements from there -- ought to be safest until Magneto shows up." "You go ahead," I said in a low voice. "I'm going to sneak closer and see what's happening." "That's not _safe_, Jess," Tom said. "I'm good at sneaking," I said. I'd had enough practice flying around Ohio at night. "Besides, I'm pretty good at taking care of myself..." _Besides, how are you going to stop me?_ I thought. If Tom had put his foot down and told me to follow him because he was an adult and an instructor at the school, I would probably have obeyed, because it was an eminently reasonable thing to do. But Tom had spent too much time around supercompetent people and he took my words at face value. "Be careful," he whispered as we moved out in different directions. I gave him a thumbs up and commenced flitting from tree to bush and so on. The estate is fairly well forested in places, and so seems larger than it is. I kept to cover, and within a few minutes I was at the verge of the wide lawn before the mansion. About the length of a city bus in diameter, the UFO was reddish silver, shading towards mauve at top. There were bright green lights about the rim that flashed in some obscure sequence. It hung 20 yards in the air above the mansion, humming slightly. From my perch in an oak tree I spent a few minutes "reading" the interior. It evidently had plenty of room for passengers or cargo, and there were a lot of things without any moving parts -- maybe meant it was alien technology, I'm sure no expert. There was no machinery holding it up that I could detect, no jets or rotors or anything. What I should have done next was read the house to "see" who was there. But that's a lot of mental work, feeling my way from room to room, and I wasn't in the mood for patience. So I started out across the lawn on foot, hoping I looked non-threatening. The first hint that things were not going well was when the saucer's lights stopped flashing in sequence and began blinking ominously. Then a pink beam shot out in my direction and I was lightly but firmly immobilized. I admit I don't take well to being imprisoned. The pink light was evidently some kind of stun ray, only the stun part didn't work on me. I was tugged into the air -- it felt like being surrounded in warm taffy -- and lifted towards the ship. Midway, I put on the brakes. The ship increased its pull, I hung tight, nearly irresistible force meeting immovable object. I won, or rather I was pushing back so hard the ship started being dragged in my direction. I guess I should have been surprised that the ship didn't take kindly to this; indeed regarded this as hostile action. A laser beam shot out and attempted to dissuade me. Lucky me, I'm immune to laser beams. (For that matter, I can't get a decent tan, either.) So this didn't have the intended effect the ship had planned. I'd have continued tugging the ship in the general direction of Long Island Sound if the beam hadn't changed intensity and started charring the trees on the estate. I made a snap decision that This Was Not A Good Thing. The first order of business seemed to be to stop the ship from further beaming. For the first time I "grabbed" the ship and tilted up the side doing the beaming-- it seemed only able to direct its beam from the edge of the saucer. The ship's programming seemed to be pretty simple; it began to turn itself level again, then tried to rotate the saucer edge towards me. I could feel the pressure building up, so I dug in my grab to better prevent it. What happened next was quite unexpected; the damn ship came apart like a damp cardboard box! The power source apparently quit on it; it seemed to have been held together primarily by force fields. I tried to hold it together, but there was no point. I set the parts down gently in the driveway and landed nearby. I was visually scanning the sky -- it had just occurred to me that the little ship might have a mommy -- when a high-pitched voice behind me cried out, "My ship!" I turned to see a little man literally hopping across the lawn towards me -- leaps of at least 20 feet apiece. His face was broad and ugly, all mouth it seemed, his hair was gray. It put me in mind of the funny little man I'd met when I was 5 or 6: the Toad. He certainly didn't recognize me and just as well, I suppose. "You broke my beautiful ship!" he yelled and leaped at me. Well I wasn't just going to stand there and let him hit me, so I just lifted myself high enough in the air so he couldn't get at me -- pretty high, at least 40 feet. He could really jump. So there I was, feeling something like a cat treed by a Chihuahua. The Toad was leaping and calling me names. Rahne came around the corner of the house in her transitional werewolf form. "Oh no!" she cried. "Just when we got the laddie calmed down!" Doug and Amara came running after her, followed by Sam, and Dani on Brightwind flying over the roof. Sam landed near where the little man was bouncing impotently and said, "Now there, Mr. Toad--" Dani circled me. "You might as well get on board," she called, patting the saddle behind her. It wasn't hard to match speed with Brightwind and land softly -- and her pegasus, much smarter than Earthly horses, wasn't spooked by it at all. "Wha' happen?" Dani said over her shoulder. "It just fell apart!" I said. "Gree-at," she said, long and drawn out. "Damn, I wish Shan was here. She could grab him long enough to let him calm down." She sighed. "At least Illyana disarmed him," she added. Brightwind banked in a long circle about the mansion. On the ground I could see Illyana had 'ported in and it looked like she as giving the poor Toad a piece of her mind. "Give it a minute and we'll try to land," Dani said. "When we do, if he makes a false move, you grab him and I'll project his greatest desire. I already tried his greatest fear -- it was a 20 foot tall Magneto and the little guy practically wet his pants." "It sounds like you've had quite the time," I said. "He came in yelling and demanding to know where Magneto was. When we told him Maggie was out he threw a fit in the foyer, jumped so hard he made a hole in the ceiling. Illyana 'ported him to Limbo and removed the weapons and then we worked to calm him down. He's ...kind of pathetic, really." "Yeah," I said. "Listen, I wasn't trying to destroy the ship -- it really did fall apart." "Just what we needed," she said. I could see a wry grin as she turned her head. "Game for a try at Toad-taming?" "If you are," I said. When we landed it was obvious the ground party had done a fine job already. Tom and Sharon had joined the crowd. The little fellow was perched on a red-silver piece of wreckage, all but sobbing. "My beautiful ship," he sighed bright-eyed, his too-wide mouth in a frown so big it was comical. Brightwind stepped up to the little group next to the Toad and Dani slid off, leaving me on the back of the Asgardian pegasus. The horse turned his head so a large blue eye regarded me, and lifted his wing so I could get off gracefully. I looked into that wise gaze and wondered just how intelligent he was after all. "Thanks for the ride," I said and he whuffled. I slid down onto the grass and found that Doug and Illyana and Rahne were watching me while the rest stood conferring. "Ye did na' have to be so rough," said Rahne. I rolled my eyes. "It just _fell apart_," I said. "Hey -- you destroy one Danger Room, you're marked for life," said Illyana. She was grinning. "Gimme a break, already," I said but Rahne had already turned away. Doug grinned. "Have you thought about using 'Overkill' for a code name?" I gave him Noemi's favorite Look, but he was distracted by something in the southern sky. It was a kind of a purplish dot, growing larger by the second. "Look, up in the sky!" he said. "Not a bird! Not a plane!" "It's _Ubermensch_!" cried Illyana. I looked at her and she shrugged. "I double-dog-dare you to say that to his face," Doug said to Illyana. "Not on your life, Douglas," said Illyana. "Yeah, that's right, you only look stupid," Doug said. The double-barrelled sonic boom caught up with us as the Master of Magnetism slanted down out of the sky. It was like faraway thunder rumbling closer, with two big Booms! abruptly cutting off. Evidently Magneto hadn't spared the horses answering the emergency call. He hovered 20 feet above our little group, surveying the damage, then set down gracefully with a gentle flare of his cape. There was a thunderous look on Magneto's face; and it wasn't my imagination, he did glow, ever so slightly in the long afternoon sunlight. He looked at the hapless Toad with those actinic blue eyes, and the little man his his face in his hands and groaned. It was a pitiful, dreadful sound. Magneto looked away. I could hear him take a deep breath, hold it and then exhale long and slow. He looked over at the student group. "I take it," he said in his calmest slow voice, "that this is the cause of the emergency signal I received?" "I sent it," said Tom, trying not to look sheepish. "Turned out the kids had things under control after all." "Well," Magneto said. "One cannot, after all, be too careful." You could almost see a wave of relief sweep over us all. The Toad, however, paid no mind to the goings on, muttering to himself soundlessly. Magneto turned to him most regally, the cape caught statesmanlike in the crook of his arm. "Mortimer," he said, and the Toad looked up, positively goggle-eyed, his big mouth gaping wide. "Yes, Mas-- Magneto," the little man said tremulously. "Mortimer, you must remember to call ahead when you visit," the Master of Magnetism said smoothly. If he was amused, or angry, or any other emotion, you couldn't tell it, at most he sounded vaguely friendly. "You've given the students quite a time." The Toad-- Mortimer, it seemed fantastic that he actually had a first name-- cringed as though he expected to be hit and then peeked up shyly. "Come, we can go to my study, and --chat," said Magneto, gesturing in the direction of the house. "My students and staff have studies to get back to, duties to perform," he added, giving us a Significant Look that put my mother's to shame. "We'll sit, have a drink and catch up," he said, and turned and strode off across the lawn. The Toad hopped after him with hardly a pause. Dani led Brightwind off to the barn, Rahne in tow, and most of the rest of us headed back around the corner of the house to avoid Magneto and his "guest." I stood looking at the wreckage and sighed. "Ah don't think it's that bad," Sam said behind me. "He attacked us, after all -- no matter if Magneto wants to smooth it over now." "Actually, I don't blame him," I said. "Better to make like it was a friendly misunderstanding." "Ah think the Toad's actually delusional," said Sam. "At least borderline. You shoulda seen him when he came stormin' in the house." "I'm surprised nobody signaled Magneto then," I said. "Nobody had time -- and when we got him calmed down, didn't seem like it was necessary." Tom drove up in the station wagon and rolled down the window. "Jess, could you move the wreckage so I can park the car?" I lifted it into the air -- what there was of it. I was still getting used to lifting in front of people, so I was a little embarrassed as I said, "Where do you want it?" "Side of the garage?" he said, and I stacked it neatly for him. Sam watched me with a grin on his face. "You sure do that nice," he said. "Practice makes perfect," I said. "Speaking of practice, do you need some help in the kitchen?" he said. "Nah," I said. "But I'd appreciate some help on the cleanup." "Shor 'nuff," he said. Sam and Tom insisted on helping me carry the supplies into the kitchen. You'd think men wouldn't feel obliged to help a woman who could destroy a spaceship with her bare mind, but that's men for you. I felt like being alone, so I shooed them out as soon as I could. When I cook I use a lot of TK -- slicing and blending and layering and I didn't want my style cramped by observers. Besides, I wanted to kick myself in private. I'd been working for an hour -- actually I had everything set in 20 minutes, the rest was waiting to start things cooking so they'd come out at the right time -- when there was a knock on the kitchen door. I put down the chairs I'd been juggling quietly and called, "Enter." It was Magneto. He'd shed the cape and the white gloves, sleeves pulled up on his muscular forearms. "Jessica," he said and I stared at him. "I'd like to hold a debriefing after dinner," he said and added, "On the whole I'm pleased with how well the incident was handled." "Okay," I said. "For a moment, I thought you were going to tell me you'd invited the Toad to dinner." Magneto's mouth quirked and I thought he almost smiled. "I did indeed make the offer, but I admit to some relief when it was declined." "So embarrassing to admit to knowing him," I said. "I do not deny it," he said. "Though it was not a ...healthy relationship for either of us, Mortimer always showed me the greatest loyalty, and I have yet to fully repay him for it." "You _were_ beastly to him," I said. At least according to Noemi, who would have known. Magneto looked me in the eye. "Mortimer was emotionally damaged when first I met him," he said. "I should have helped him, instead I all but enslaved him." "He's just a poor, funny, little man," I said. "He's a superb athlete with incredible reflexes and strength enough in his legs to dent steel," Magneto said. "Plus a cache of alien weaponry squirreled away somewhere. He ought to be taken seriously -- he could have done you all harm. Due to the student's and staff's extensive training towards emergency situations, events were handled well and we can look back to this afternoon as an elaborate training exercise." "I'm sorry about destroying the spaceship," I said. "Don't be," he replied. I looked up at him and he raised an eyebrow. "It may be that his ship was set to capture me upon my unsuspecting arrival here," he said. "It may have been the reason the T-- Mortimer allowed himself to be pacified in the first place." "Well," I said. Good Lord, this might mean I'd _saved_ Magneto. Or at least saved him some trouble. "At any rate your fight may not have been pointless," he said. "I intend upon studying the wreckage before the debriefing, perhaps it will render up some conclusive evidence." "What did you do with the Toad?" I said, then corrected myself. "I mean, where did he go?" "I called a cab and pressed enough cash upon him to ensure he can travel as far as need be," said Magneto. "Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best." "I suppose," I said as he walked to the stove. The metal lid on the big pot of stuffed peppers raised itself and he took an appreciative sniff of the contents. "Your mother's recipe. How well I recall her cooking," he said. I stiffened and he straightened and looked at me speculatively. "Until dinner, then," he said quietly and strode in a dignified manner from the room. As for me, I sat down at the kitchen table and covered my face in my hands. For a few minutes I'd almost been able to like the Master of Magnetism. It disturbed me greatly. This story (c) 1992 Connie Hirsch The New Mutants, Magneto, the Hellions, and all constituent characters (c) 1992 Marvel Comics Group. This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without permission of the author. .