Kid Dynamo Chapter 11
    "Queen for a Day"
    by Connie Hirsch
    
    Our Story So Far:  Jessica Pierce is a teenage telekinetic
 fireproof mutant runaway who has taken shelter at Xavier's School For
 Gifted Youngsters, despite her considerable misgivings about the
 headmaster, Magneto. The leader of the Brotherhood of Mutants in his
 long-ago days had tampered with her mother's fire powers, which
 subsequently went berserk and killed her.
    Last chapter, Jessica and the rest of the New Mutants were
 contacted by Empath, calling for help from Manhattan for himself and some
 of his fellow Hellions. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse were attacking
 New York City, and both the Hellfire Club and Magneto were
 unreachable/unavailable. The students made the decision to mount a rescue
 operation by themselves. Jessica, Sam, Rahne and Illyana would search
 Central Park, Empath's last known location. In the meantime, Dani and the
 rest of the New Mutants would be on alert back at the Mansion....
       
    * * *	
       
    I hung in the air over the Museum of Fine Arts.  To the North, I
 could still see Sam, a small brave figure in the air, heading out to search
 his assigned portion of the Park.  I would search the South, and Rahne and
 Illyana would take the middle on foot.
    Below me I could clearly hear a little kid say, "Look, Mommy,
 she's _flying_," and it jarred me from my reverie.  I was glad for the
 distance and the helmet, so that no one would see me blushing.
    I flew South, considering what to do.  Fact:  'Lito had been at
 a phone, presumably in the Park.  Phones wouldn't be just anywhere; they'd
 be on major paths, and around the perimeter along the street.  Central Park
 is covered with trees; _huge_ trees; trees with millions of concealing
 leaves.  Okay, that was a plan.  I'd fly around the perimeter first.  The
 trees overhung the sidewalk next to the Park, but if I angled out over the
 street, I'd be able to see clearly.
    The street along the Park -- Fifth Avenue, the street signs said --
 was clogged with stopped cars, most of them abandoned.  A few blocks down,
 I came upon some very disturbing sights; all the glass in the cars and the
 buildings had shattered.  There were small pools of drying blood.  Another
 block and I saw my first bodies.  They must have been standing directly
 underneath the glass front of the building, and they had been sliced to
 pieces. It was useless to try first aid; they were far beyond help.  I
 pulled down an awning to cover them. _They never knew what hit them_, I
 tried to console myself;  but it only made me feel angry.  I was more
 anxious about 'Lito than ever.
    Few people were out on the street.  They'd taken shelter, if they
 were mobile or had any sense.  I saw some people duck back into store
 fronts and a subway entrance as I turned the corner at the bottom of the
 Park.  I felt like shouting, "Hey, you don't have to be scared of me!" but
 I didn't.  They were in enough trouble as it was; I didn't need to add to
 it.
    Manhattan didn't have any proper telephone booths left; just those
 horrid modern open air things.  I hoped 'Lito wasn't inside a building.
 He'd _said_ he was in the Park, instead of mentioning a building name or
 address.
    The electricity was out.  If the streets hadn't been
 preternaturally quiet, they'd have been solid with honking cars at every
 intersection. There were enough cars, but they were all abandoned; the
 Ghost of Traffic Jams Past.  It was a spooky feeling to be the only moving
 object in one of the most populous places on Earth.
    There was a crackle, a popping sound.  I stopped and looked around,
 startled.  It was the radio hanging on my belt, the one Doug had issued to
 each of us before we left Salem Center.  I fumbled it out.
    "Hello, hello," I said into it, then remembered to push the
 "transmit" button.  "Jes-- er, _Miranda_ here," I added.  Smooth and
 professional, that was me.  I stared at the radio expectantly and noticed
 the "receive" button.
    I pushed it.  "--and meet us at the Museum of Natural History,"
 Sam's voice said through the static.  "Do you copy?  Over."
    Working the radio correctly, I said, "Sorry, you faded there.  Can
 you repeat?"
    "We found them," Sam said.  "We're on Third Avenue, at the Museum
 of Natural History.  Can you join us?"
    "You _found_ them?"  I said, my voice squeaking a little.  I took a
 breath.  "Is 'Lito -- are they okay?"
    "They've had better days," Sam said.  "But, yeah, Ah think they're
 going to be okay." 
    I forgot to hold the "receive" button down and stared at the radio.
 I've rarely felt more relieved.  "Can you repeat?"  I transmitted.
 "They're all right?"
    "Sure are," said Sam.  "Ah wouldn't say so if they weren't.  Magik
 is taking them back to HQ right now."
    "Fantastic!"  I said, grinning foolishly at the radio.  "What do we
 do now?"
    "We've got a bit of a situation here," Sam said.  "Ah think we had
 better help out.  Can you find some food?  As much as you can bring?"
    "Let me get this straight--" I said.  "You want me to bring _food_.
 What are you doing, having a picnic?"
    "Only wish we were," Sam said.  "People are in a bad way right here
 -- the villain called Famine got to them.  That's why Empath sounded so
 hungry on the phone."
    I paused.  "What am I supposed to use for money?" I said.  "I
 didn't expect to do any shopping on this trip.  I left my wallet home."
    Sam cleared his throat.  "Get the name and address of the store or
 whatever," he said.  "This is... pretty much life or death.  We'll just
 have to see the owner gets reimbursed later."
    I looked at my radio.  _This is serious, he wouldn't ask me to
 steal, otherwise_, I thought.  "Okay, I'll bring what I can," I said.
 "Over and out."
    How was I going to find food?  There must be food stores,
 supermarkets, in Manhattan.  There'd been a restaurant or two -- actually a
 few, I really hadn't been looking for places to eat.  I turned to fly back
 the way I had come and noticed I was almost directly in front of a narrow
 shop called "The Gourmet Nooke."
    It had steel "riot proof" mesh pulled down in front of the windows,
 but you could see it was chock full of food.  I landed in front of the door
 and rapped loudly on the mesh.  "Hey, open up in there!" I called.
    In the dim light inside, I could see someone stir slightly, but no
 one came forward to the door.  "I'm serious," I yelled.  "You don't come
 out, I'm coming in."  I waited only a moment:  I was sure the Avengers or
 Spiderman or somebody was going to come along and ask me what I was doing. 
 I reached with my mind and undid the locks, sliding the mesh back up into
 its slots.  It was equally easy to open the locked door.
    I walked into the shop, the crest of my helmet brushing the lintel.
 The bell on the door jingled merrily.  Every possible inch of display space
 was crammed: nuts, imported cheeses, Swiss chocolates, boxes, bottles,
 tins.  I gazed around, open-mouthed.   I wondered what I should take.
 "Everything you can carry," Sam had said.  That covered a lot.
    "Hold it right there, Missy."  An old man had popped up from behind
 a little counter, pointing the humongous barrels of a shotgun at me.
    I discovered that even if you are a mutant telekinetic, having a
 gun pointed at one makes the heart leap.  I "held" the trigger immobile,
 even as I gently pried the gun from his hands.  He gave a soft cry of
 amazement as the firearm wrestled itself from his grasp.  I put it on top
 of one of the hanging light fixtures where it wouldn't do any harm.
    "I'm sorry" I said.  "But I'm... commandeering your store."
    "My... store?"  he said, wide-eyed.  I felt bad -- he looked like
 somebody's white-haired grandfather, and probably was, too.
    "There's been an emergency." I said.  "People need food right
 away."  I _reached_ and gathered everything off likely looking shelves:
 cookies, crackers, little tins of meat, candy.  I found I could create a
 great "glob" of items outside the doorway, holding it just loose enough not
 to crush anything, while I telekinetically ransacked the store, adding
 soda, beer, juices, baked goods.
    "Who's going to pay for all this?" the owner called after me from
 the doorway as I made to take off.
    I hung there in the air, looking down at him.  "Send the bill to
 the Avengers," I said.  _Maybe_ they'd take care of it.  I hoped the old
 guy had superhero insurance.
    "Looting" the store took less time than it takes to tell about it,
 but even that pause had made me more anxious to get to my teammate's side. 
 I flew with my food load diagonally across the Park, in a high parabola so
 I could see where the Natural History Museum was and aim better.  It was
 further up than I'd thought, a blocky tan and buff building set back off
 the street among the trees.
    Sam hadn't specified where to land.  I pulled out my radio.  "Sa --
 Cannonball, come in," I said.  "I'm coming with food -- where do you want
 it?"
    "Good job, Miranda," Sam's voice said.  "We'll meet you at the
 front entrance of the museum."
    A brightly colored werewolf was waving at me from the front steps. 
 "Right this way," Rahne said.  "Och, the people are in a bad way, some of
 them."
    "Oh, thank you," said a young man dressed in a museum guard suit,
 standing next to Sam.  I noticed he was prominently wearing his holstered
 gun on his hip.  "The worst cases are here in the front hall."
    My eyes were adjusting to the dim illumination from the skylights. 
 We were in a cavernous entrance hall dominated by two huge dinosaur
 skeletons, a Tyrannosaurus Rex attacking a Brontosaurus the size of two
 city buses.  Usually it must seem empty as people mill around, buy tickets
 and head for the exhibition halls unfolding their pocket maps.
    However, now the floor of the hall was covered with the skinniest,
 most pitiful collection of human beings I've ever seen.   The people were
 vying with the dinosaurs for "Most Emaciated" title; the 60 million year
 headstart the big lizards had didn't seem to be nearly enough.
    There was a stir as the people looked up.  A few tried to get to
 their feet, but I realized with a gulp that many simply didn't have the
 strength.
    "Food seems to help," said Sam.
    "I see," I said, and got busy parceling it out.  I didn't stop to
 ask what people wanted; I just pulled something edible and something
 drinkable out of my load and put it in front of each person.  The museum
 guard had organized a small group of people who were still on their feet
 and they went around opening bags and holding drinks for the really weak
 ones.
    I'd nearly run out of items when Illyana 'ported in next to the
 dinosaurs, a huge load of groceries appearing around and between the big
 leg bones.  "There's a 'Stop and Shop' in White Plains that is _never_
 going to be the same," she said.
    "How's 'Lito?" I said, picking up a portion as I landed next to
 her.  I could hand out food while I talked
    "I 'ported them straight to the infirmary," she said.  "Don't worry
 -- Sharon's administering chicken soup even as we speak."
    "Are they okay?" I said.  "'Lito sounded so..."
    "Catseye was the worst off," Illyana said, "but she was skinny to
 start with.  Once you get food into 'em, they recover fast enough."  The
 teenage sorceress looked around the hall, all the pitiful people.  "I'd
 love to get my hands on that Famine bitch," she added.
    Sam picked his way across the crowded floor to us, a gaunt lady in
 a business suit following him.  "This is Ms. Marin-Kingsley," he said.
 "She's the acting Museum Director," he added.
    To judge from the way her clothes were hanging on her,
 Marin-Kingsley had been hit as hard as anyone in the area.  "Thank you,"
 she said.  "I don't know what we should have done if not for your help."
    "Famine seems to be able to destroy food as well as melt flesh,"
 Sam said to me.  "If you see her, Ah'd advise you stay a good ways off."
    "She'd better watch out for me," Illyana said.
    "If ya'll don't mind," Sam said,  "We could use another load of
 groceries."
    "Can do," Illyana said and vanished in a disk of white light.  Ms.
 Marin-Kingsley blinked in surprise.  Evidently teenagers in strange
 costumes didn't faze her, but she drew the line at teleportation.
    "I can't do any less," I said.  "Although I don't have such a
 spectacular exit."
    "S'allright," Sam said.  "This side of the Park got hit bad by
 Famine -- if you don't mind going ya'll have better luck on the East Side. 
 Not that Ah'm comfortable with sending you out again -- those 'Horsemen'
 are still at large."
    I looked at him.  "Cannonball," I said.  "They'd better watch out
 for me."
    
    * * *
    
    I had only just realized I was angry when I said it.  The property
 destruction hadn't bothered me too much -- Noemi had done worse, after all.
 The bodies had shocked me so deeply I'd gone numb; the emotions were just
 beginning to surface now that I knew 'Lito was safe.
    But now was not the time to go hunting a fight, I told myself.  I
 was on a mission to find more food.  I lifted into the clear air over the
 Museum.  Manhattan's air was pristine this day -- amazing what turning off
 all those cars could do.  It was quieter, too: over the Park you could even
 hear a few hardy city birds singing, wind in the leaves.  There was a
 distant buzz in the background -- faraway sirens; maybe it was just the
 faint din of seven million pairs of lungs in the Big Apple.
    Famine had cleaned out the West Side, so I shot back across to the
 East Side, where I'd laboriously searched for 'Lito earlier.  I hadn't
 been looking for food; I'd only been concentrating on phone booths.  There
 must be some, I thought.  Restaurants, yes, but next to no food stores
 fronting the Park.  It was _expensive_ real estate, I told myself; finding
 "The Gourmet Nooke" had been real luck.  A block or two back might yield
 what I wanted. I flew down a side street at just above car roof level,
 looking for just a simple convenience store.  _My horse for a
 Seven-Eleven_.
    I'd been hearing great booming noises on and off.  I'd figured them
 for a thunder or distant gunfire or any other random city noises.  One went
 off just two or three blocks away, and I stopped in my tracks.  Windows in
 the buildings next to me visibly shook, pigeons took wing, and a few hardy
 souls braved the light of day to peer out of doorways.
    There was a pause after that loud noise, where my ears tried to
 regain their volume control.  Even as I was shaking my head, I could hear
 the tinkling of vast amounts of broken glass... followed by all too human
 screams.
    "It's happening again," I said, so shocked I was speaking aloud.
 The bodies I'd seen before had been all but buried in fractured glass.
 Whatever-- whoever was doing that was still at it.
    I can't say that I thought about what I did next, because it really
 didn't take any thought at all.  Somebody had to stop this.  I didn't know
 where the Avengers were; I didn't know where Spiderman or some of the other
 New York superheroes were; all I knew was that I was going to put paid to
 this nonsense.  It would only take a few minutes, I told myself.
    I flew South, down the broad grid of streets, hunting.  I caught a
 glimpse of something bright and shiny in the air, turning a corner.  It
 wasn't any helicopter.  I slowed; no need to run right into the guy.
    There was another "Boom!"  from fairly close by, a street over.  It
 felt like my teeth were rattling in my head; my ears rang.  My
 concentration faltered as for a moment I almost fell out of the sky.
 "Shit!" I cried, adrenaline jerking me back to full awareness.  Again I
 could hear the terrible sounds of falling glass.
    I shot up into the sky -- "leaping tall buildings in a single
 bound."  I'd miscalculated the location of my target by two blocks; he was
 to my South.
    It was a guy on a shiny mechanical flying "horse" -- looked like it
 was designed by somebody who'd had only dogs to go by.  I can't quite
 describe the style of the guy's outfit: blocky, bright.  He wore a metallic
 mask that supplely followed the contours of his face, with this strange
 bowl-cut hairdo, like a medieval knight.
    "Hey!" I said, a great opening statement.  He glanced backward and
 brought the mount around in a graceful bank.
    "At last," he said.  "I wondered when a warrior would arrive to do
 battle."
    "Hey," I said again.  I'd never planned on _actually_ fighting
 anyone, having to confront someone in an attack.  "I'm not here to fight
 you."
    "Oh?" he said.  The mask he wore was very mobile; I could see his
 left eyebrow twitch upward.  "What business have you with War, Horseman of
 Apocalypse?"
    "I -- you're hurting people and I want you to stop," I said, aware
 of how lame I sounded.
    He smiled -- _mad as a hatter_, a little voice said deep inside me.
 "Hurting people is what War is all about, girl," he said.  He spread his
 hands apart, a strange gesture.  "But then, if you dress as a warrior, you
 are the worthy foe I have sought."
    He started to bring his hands together; and I thought very quickly,
 _Applause? No!_  I actually had time to reach out with my TK and attempt to
 stop him from bringing his hands together -- just instinct.
    But to my deep shock, my TK bounced off him like a rubber ball
 thrown at a battleship.
    All in the space of less that a second, his hands came together in
 what looked like a normal clap, but was anything but.  It wasn't even a
 particularly strenuous gesture, either -- just a tapping of his palms
 together, but it produced a near-ear-splitting _sound_ beyond sound, like
 hitting a wall at thirty miles an  hour.
    I was already at a disadvantage.  Having my TK grip bounce was like
 stepping on a banana peel; I was off-balance.  The noise was so loud it was
 painful.  If it weren't for the helmet I might have had burst eardrums.  As
 it was, I _did_ lose my concentration and stopped holding myself up.  I
 knew immediately what had happened, but by then I was so disoriented I
 couldn't tell down from up.
    My karate training saved me.  Not the physical moves, but the
 concept of automatically blocking when hit.  I threw up a telekinetic
 shield around myself, a tight little ball with me curled up in a fetal
 position inside.  The blast sent me hurtling through the air, spinning
 crazily.  All in much less time than it takes to tell.
    With an enormous crash (though I hardly heard it with my ringing
 ears) I smashed through the side of the skyscraper and bounced through
 walls and partitions until I fetched up in the office on the opposite side
 of the building.
    I was dizzily aware that I'd stopped moving.   I cracked my eyes
 open, used my seeker sense to check _above_ and _below_ me for loose
 debris.  Once I shifted some cracked plaster I was clear.  I lowered my
 shield and shakily got to my feet.
    It had been a nice office, big oak desk, bookcases, an opaque glass
 partition that separated it from the rest of the floor.  That _had_
 separated it -- I was standing on top of the remains.
    A middle-aged white-haired black gentleman picked his way around
 the overturned desks and office furniture to what had once been the
 doorway.  He was clutching a pipe in his hand, absentmindedly.   He caught
 sight of me, his eyebrows going up in surprise.  "Are -- are you all right
 miss?" he said.
    At least I could still hear.  His voice sounded somewhat faraway;
 my ears were still recovering.  As for how I was feeling, which was halfway
 between hysterical and wanting to throw a building at that War yoyo....
 "Okay, all things considered," I said.  "Did you get the number of that
 building?"
    A faint grin creased his face; he fought it but I caught a hint of
 it.  "Have you seen Jonah?" he said.
    "Jonah who?" I started to say, as a male voice spoke sharply from
 beneath the debris.  "Get this God-damned door off me," it said in a highly
 annoyed whine.
    The black gentleman started forward but I beat him to it.  I lifted
 up the desk and part of the door.  "Jonah" had ducked for cover as I came
 barreling in.  "Hey -- HEY!" he yelped as I lifted him up and set him on
 his feet.  I gave his skeleton a cursory scan as I did so -- nothing
 broken.
    Jonah stared at the black guy, stared at me.  He was wearing a suit
 and vest, now the worse for wear, and plaster dust was sprinkled in his
 grey hair.  He had a little stiff brush mustache, and he spit the
 bitten-through remains of a cigar out on the floor.  "Just what do you
 mean, coming flying through here like that?" he said heatedly.  His voice
 had a perpetual whine to it; I disliked him immediately.
    "I didn't have any choice in the matter," I said loftily.  "Next
 time I'll try to land on a hospital."
    "It's always the same with you kind of people," he said.  I drew
 myself up straighter; in a moment I was sure he'd was going to make a
 racial remark about mutants and I would have to restrain myself from
 putting him through a wall.  "God damn _superheroes_," he spat out.
    I stared at him.  "Boy, have you got a wrong number," I said at
 last, and walked away.
    "Jonah, calm yourself," said the black guy, following me.  "Miss,
 are you sure you're all right?  Can I get you something to drink -- soda or
 water or coffee?  Anything else?"
    What the hell, I needed to stop and think.  "Some water would be
 nice," I said.  "If you have any...."
    "Betty," he called.
    A brown-haired woman set down an armload of files.  "I think the
 cooler's still in one piece, Robbie," she said.
    "Robbie" righted and dusted off a chair, pushing it towards me.
 "You look like you could use a seat," he said.  "Are you sure you're
 unhurt?  Being thrown through a building can't be much fun...."
    It was surprising how relaxing sitting could be.  "I had my
 forcefield," I said, realizing as I said it I shouldn't be blabbing to
 strangers.  I sat up straighter.
    Betty came back with a paper cup full of spring water.  "The
 refrigerator's not working but it's still cold enough," she said.
    "Thanks," I said.  The water cleared off the dust in my throat.
    "You haven't done this before, have you?" said Robbie.  "I think I
 would have heard of you before this."
    "It's an emergency," I said.  "I wouldn't be wasting my time
 fighting a jerk like this 'War' guy otherwise.  Where are the Avengers,
 anyway?"
    "They're off in California," said Robbie.  "I expect they're on
 their way back."
    "In the meantime, War and his Horsemen buddies are destroying the
 city."
    "We've had reports of fighting," he said.  "There are heroes like
 yourself fighting them."
    "Just like me?" I said.  "If they're having equal success....  For
 my opening move I got knocked through a building.  Some success."
    "Don't count yourself out yet," said Robbie.  "Why do I get the
 feeling you don't do this often?"
    "At heart I'm very ordinary," I said.  _Well, compared to being a
 space alien or a member of the Olympic pantheon_.  "I didn't grow up
 wanting to slam people with buildings."
    "Does anyone?" Robbie said.  He looked at his pipe, then up at me. 
 "'With great power comes great responsibility.'  Sometimes, denying you
 have power is the greatest avoidance of responsibility."
    I looked at him, wordless.  There was a commotion from within
 Jonah's office, and the man himself came stalking out, surrounded by
 staffers.  "You!" he shouted at me.  "You're still here, you -- _menace_!"
    "Oh -- _grow up_," I said sarcastically, and he shut up, affronted.
 He'd unearthed another cigar from the wreckage and he chomped on it.  To
 Robbie, I said, "How come you thought I was a good guy anyway?  For all you
 knew, I could have been behind the whole attack on the city."
    "I wasn't sure," Robbie said.  "It was safest to approach you as if
 you were friendly.  And besides, you're wearing a white cape -- you _must_
 be a good guy."
    "Well," I said, getting up.  Jonah was glaring at me, so I ignored
 him.  "I'll have to live up to my clothing, won't I?"
    I flew out the way I had come in.  "I'm going to _sue_!"  Jonah
 shouted faintly behind me.  I wondered how he was planned to serve papers
 on me.  I don't think you can sue a minor anyway.  Then I put it out of
 my mind.  I had a "War" to fight.
    
    * * *
    
    It wasn't hard to find "War;" generally speaking, guys making sonic
 booms with their hands aren't subtle.  He was working his way north towards
 the Park again.  I made a tall parabola and came down out of the sun just
 above him.
    "Okay, Mister, this stops _now_," I said.  I braced myself as I
 said it; a really tight forcefield bubble up around me, one that I could
 tighten even more if needed.  It should protect me from the worst of the
 noise and blunt the shockwave.
    "You again," he said. "Haven't learned your lesson yet, have you?"
    "Oh, I learned it," I said.  "You showed me real good."
    At that moment, people erupted out of the subway entrance,
 screaming, a whole pack of them, like somebody was chasing them.
    War looked at me.  "I have something more to show you."
    "No! The people--" I started to say.  "Don't --"  He clapped.  I
 winced at the sound; my ears rang a little but I didn't waver in the air at
 all: my forcefield had protected me.  I could even hear people scream, the
 growing tinkly noise as the glass from a hundred shattered windows began to
 fall.  I flashed on the dismembered bodies I'd seen earlier -- all those
 people, knocked off their feet by the noise, would be cut to ribbons if I
 didn't do something.
    "No!"  I cried and _reached_ out.  I caught most of the glass, a
 few bits here and there escaped.  I had never tried to hold so many
 individual pieces at once.  I began to coalesce the burden, bring it down
 to the ground safely.
    War looked at me.  "You're doing that, aren't you?" he said.
    Sometimes I really wish my telekinesis had visible effects so that
 when I want to make a point there's no confusion.  "Yes, I _am_ doing
 that," I said.  "I'm not going to let you hurt any more people."
    "Casualties are the main product of War," he said.  "You can't
 escape it.  War is an eternal condition.  Better to start holding the tide
 back, girl."  He laughed.
    "I'm serious," I said.
    "So?" War shrugged.  "You're earnest and well-meaning.  That and
 eighty cents will get you a ride on the subway."
    "I will stop you," I said,  "if I have to kill you."
    His head snapped around.  "Never bluff," he said.  "Never bluff
 about killing.  'Cause sooner or later, someone's going to call you on it."
    "I'm not bluffing," I said.  It was true, I was willing to try
 though at the moment I had no idea _how_ I could stop him .
    "Then you'd better go ahead," War said.  He had a husky, worn
 voice.  "'Cause there's no stopping War.  You can catch that much glass,
 but what if I clap again?  And again?  What if I knock down a building or
 two while I'm at it?"
    "I'm not bluffing," I said again.
    "You haven't got the guts," he said.  He stared at me and held my
 gaze.  I stared back for a long moment.  There was a slight breeze blowing,
 ruffling his straight hair.  I could see the beams of the sun reflecting
 from his metallic face mask.  "Maybe you have got the guts," he said.
 "We'll see now, won't we?"  He raised his hands theatrically.
    "No," I said.  "Please.  Don't."  He started to swing his hands
 together.  "I won't let you!" I screamed.  I knew better than to try to use
 my telekinesis on him or his mount directly; instead I threw something at
 him -- something I already had a handy grip on -- all that glass.
    I think I've indicated before just how strong my power is.  It's
 one thing to consider, another thing to live with.  I'd spent the last
 seven or so years, since my power manifested, being very careful about
 accidentally hurting people, because my mother had warned me I could kill
 if I ever cut loose.
    It took only a second or so to prove she was right.
    I didn't stop to think what several thousand pounds of glass would
 do if it was hurled at someone.  I forgot at what high speed I could move
 objects.  I even forgot just how sharp broken glass could be.  All I could
 see was War's hands moving together and I _had_ to stop him somehow.
    There was a meaty crash-thunk sound.  I was holding the glass
 shards so tightly that it took a long moment for me to figure out that they
 were the only thing holding War and his mount up in the air.  It took me
 another moment to realize just how much damage I'd done to him.
    I was shaking as I brought him down to the street.  I brushed away
 the debris to make a clear spot on the sidewalk.  Both he and the mount had
 been well-armored so the glass hadn't penetrated too much, just around and
 in the joints and other weak spots.  Where War wasn't covered with armor he
 resembled a glass porcupine.  He must have thrown an arm across his face at
 the last minute; his features were largely intact.
    His hands hadn't been so lucky.  His fingers were gone; what was
 left bleeding freely.
    The anti-TK field had gone away; I did my best to hold him up so he
 did not lie on his wounds.  I had had lots of practice with  Noemi at this
 sort of thing.  "Oh my God," I said, stunned at what I had done.  "Oh, dear
 Lord..."
    He moaned.  I stopped him from thrashing about.  "You'll hurt
 yourself further if you move," I said.  "I'll fly you to an emergency
 room." The second thing they teach EMT's is to be reassuring to the
 patient; it can make the difference between life and death sometimes.  If a
 patient can be encouraged to fight, to hold on to life, that's half the
 battle.
    Blood was dripping from him at a furious pace.   I ran my seeker
 sense over him quickly -- no major blood vessels were cut save one in his
 left arm -- but hundreds of minor ones, more than I could hold.   He had no
 more than minutes of consciousness left before his blood pressure dropped
 too low.
    "Hurts," he gasped, an understatement under the circumstances.   His
 eyes moved side to side, focused on my face.
    "I'm taking you to a hospital," I said.
    "No -- don't bother," he said.   "I'm a goner."
    "No --" I started to say.   
    He took a deep, shuddering breath and gasped, a little thread of
 blood running out of the corner of his mouth.  "Don't kid yourself," War
 said.  "I just want to say -- thank you.  Funny -- for the first time in
 months, years -- I can think straight -- it's the pain, I guess."
    He gasped again.   "I took an injury in 'Nam -- ended up a
 quadriplegic, forgotten.   I was so angry -- hateful.   Then Apocalypse
 came -- repaired my body and corrupted my mind.  I was so fixed on avenging
 myself that I forgot the real ideals of the warrior -- protecting the weak;
 strong body; clean mind.   I forgot about 'arete' -- that's Greek for the
 warrior ideal, human perfectibility."
    "Ah-ree-tay," I said, trying out the strange sound.
    He sighed and his eyelids fluttered, but he rallied.   "Not much time
 now," he said.   "Soon it won't hurt at all, and that's okay by me.   I was
 living-dead too long in the hospital, would have jumped at the chance to
 die -- if I could have jumped, or moved at all."
    "_Please_ -- let me try to get you some help," I said.
    "Nah -- let it go," he said.  "Listen, quick --," he gasped, continued. 
 "You're probably thinking it's your fault.   It isn't.   You did the
 right thing, to try to protect all those people.   As long as you act with
 arete, you have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to regret.
    "Only wish I could have remembered sooner," he said, and smiled a
 vague smile, his eyes staring up towards the sky.
    "There's still time," I said, my heart not in it.   He didn't respond. 
 "War?" I said.  He was dead; heart stopped.   "Please," I said.
 "I'm so sorry."  There wasn't much blood left in him; even CPR was useless.
    There was a "click" beside me.   I turned to look; there was some
 geek with a camera.   A couple of the "innocent bystanders" I'd saved had
 crept out to see what was going on.   Nobody spoke; we observed a minute of
 silence for War's passing.   "I wonder what his real name was," I started
 to say.
    There was a faint crackling in the air and War's body disappeared in
 a flash of light.   _Illyana_?  I thought, but it didn't look like her
 teleport disk.   For all I knew, he'd just been disintegrated.   
    There was an astounded murmur from the crowd.   I "stood" up, my
 soles an inch above the blood soaked pavement.
    "Holy Shit," said the camera-geek in a reverent tone.   He then
 proceeded to put his camera up and snap a picture of me.
    "I beg your pardon," I said in frosty tones.
    "Hey -- no problem," he said, backing up a step.   "Kinda a
 whatchamacallit -- automatic reflex?  You just get in the habit."
    "I'd really prefer not to have my picture taken," I said.
    "No problemo," he said.   "Wouldn't want to get you mad, that's for
 sure.  What did he call you -- 'Arete'?  How do you spell that?"
    "I don't know," I said.  "Look it up in a Greek dictionary."
    "Good idea," he enthused.  "Greg Cox, stringer for the Daily Bugle"
 He held out a grubby hand, which I didn't take, and which he didn't seem to
 notice.
    "That's a newspaper?" I said.
    "One a' the best!" Cox said.  "You're new in town, right?  Are you a
 mutant?"
    I was beginning to understand Cox's pattern of questioning -- he'd
 ask some harmless thing, then switch to a provocative question in order to
 get me off guard.  But now that I had caught on I knew what to do.
    "That's a personal question isn't it?" I said.  Cox nodded eagerly.
 "However -- for the record -- I am a human being." I paused a beat.  "A
 human being with mutated genes."
    I realized I had unconsciously crossed my arms in front of me, posing
 like some noble statue.  I tried not to move self-consciously -- it would
 have spoiled the effect.
    "Uh-huh, uh-huh," Cox said.  "You part of any super-type team?"
    He opened his mouth, probably to prompt me with the names of several,
 but his mouth stayed open as a great shadow descended on the street, like
 some great cloud or eclipse had overtaken the sun.
    "Holy Mother a' God," he said, looking up.
    I looked up too.  Above our heads, way above most of the skyscrapers,
 was some great construct like an alien spaceship, so big it shut out the
 sun for blocks and blocks around us.  In fact, if the ship hadn't been
 generating a soft glow, the street would have been quite dim.
    Murmurs and whispers in the crowd gathered around me -- "What is it?"
 "Are the aliens invading again?" "It's all those muties fault, I tell you!"
 and "The ship is moving, Mommy!"
    The last I agreed with.  Like some cloud passing by overhead, the
 great construct was moving above us.
    Abruptly, it speeded up, tipping toward one side, dipping down almost
 ballistically, to clip the corner off a skyscraper.  "Wonder who's
 driving?" I heard a man murmur near me.
    I was thinking the same thing.  The ship was probably connected with
 the Horsemen of Apocalypse; could the Fantastic Four or some other group be
 fighting aboard the ship?
    "Cripes," Cox said quietly next to me.  "I think it's going to hit
 the Empire State Building."
    "What?" I said.
    "Look -- the building's right down the street here," he said,
 pointing.  "The ship -- or whatever it is -- is climbing at that angle, but
 I don't think it's going to make it."
    Now that he'd pointed it out, I could see it.  I used my seeker sense
 to estimate heights and distance, and received a nasty surprise -- the
 construct had the same sort of anti-telekinesis field that War had had.
 But since I wasn't trying to grab it, I wasn't jolted as I had been.  The
 ship could have easily been a mile long; I hadn't been keen on trying to
 grab it and swerve it from its course, anyway.
    "You'd think some superteam would fly up and stop it, wouldn't you?"
 said Cox.  "If it knocks off the tower on top, I wouldn't want to be
 underneath," he added, pale beneath his freckles.
    _Nobody is going to the rescue_, I thought.  Maybe I could catch that
 tower if it was knocked down.  At least I could try.  "Wish me luck," I
 said, and soared off.
    "Good luck!" I heard him yell as I gained height.  There was a loud
 sound behind me and I looked back over my shoulder: the crowd I'd saved was
 _cheering_ me.  I didn't know whether I should be appalled, after all, I
 had just killed a man.
    I didn't have much time to dwell on it.  The Empire State Building
 stands head and shoulders above the surrounding skyscrapers.  The strange
 ship had climbed on a diagonal, but it wasn't nearly enough to clear the
 thin tower on the skyscraper that had been designed as a zeppelin mooring
 mast.  I was still climbing even as the corner of the ship struck the mast
 fair and square.  I'll give the original architects and engineers credit;
 the mast broke away cleanly -- all three hundred feet of it, with a noise
 like ten million trains crashing head-on.
    Something that big seems to fall slowly.  Really, it doesn't; it's
 just the scale, the amount of space it has to physically traverse that
 makes it seem slow.  _Can I catch it_?  I wondered, and realized I had no
 choice but to try.
    I anchored myself in midair as best I could.  Magneto had been
 coaching me to treat such action as a subroutine; an action that continues
 whatever the main "program" does.  I took a calming breath, just like in
 karate; draining all the tension, seeing the tower caught safely.  Then my
 seeker sense reached out to encompass the whole of the tower.
    It was touch and go for a moment.  The tower was so damned big -- but
 suddenly my sense of perspective switched itself around and I could hold
 the whole.  Eyes closed, I could _feel_ the structure, feel it keeling
 over, beginning its plunge.  Then -- and only then -- I gripped and lifted
 against the momentum, slowing the descent more and more.
    I would have had a comfortable margin of safety, but even as I began
 to exert myself, a strange telekinetic touch tried to grip the tower.  It
 was similar to the feeling I'd had when Magneto had crossed areas of
 influence with me during training, with one key difference: this wasn't my
 father.
    It was painful, like getting your arm twisted behind your back.
 "Stop it, I have it!" I cried out loud.  There were some long moments of
 confusion.  _Who are you_?  I thought.  _What are you doing in my head_?
 but it wasn't me alone thinking these thoughts.  Somehow the other woman (I
 just knew her gender and she knew mine and other information) was inside my
 head, thinking some of my thoughts for me.  _Let it go, I'll hold it_ she
 thought at me -- or at least I thought she thought it at me.
    I let the tower go, released all claim to it.  The tower descended a
 few feet and then held steady.  From the other side two flying costumed
 figures emerged and came to hang near me: a red-headed woman and a man all
 in blue with a high-tech metallic visor.
    "Well, knock me over with a feather," I said.
    The red-head smiled, tentatively.  "I think you were in my head," she
 said.  "I'm sorry -- I didn't realize you had the tower or I wouldn't have
 tried to take it -- Jessica?" Her tone made my name not quite a question.
 "We seem to have exchanged a little information -- I haven't gotten it all
 sorted yet."
    "It's okay -- Jean?" I said.  She was _Jean Grey_ or I was a monkey's
 uncle.  "You're not supposed to be _alive_," I said, shocked.
    "There was an -- impostor," she said.
    "Yes -- I see," I said, and in a curious way, I did; while all the
 details weren't clear, she hadn't any memory of the Phoenix identity; just
 waking up at the Fantastic Four and masquerading as ...  X-Factor???
    "Good Lord," I said, "_You've_ been posing as _mutant hunters_."
    "We were tricked," said the visored man whom Jean's memories and my
 own deductions identified as Scott Summers, Cyclops of the original X-Men. 
 I was vaguely aware of Jean's memories -- something about a PR man who had
 put them up to it and tried to drive Scott crazy in the bargain.  "Who are
 you, anyway?"
    "She's -- Jessica," Jean said.  "She wouldn't want us to know any
 more and we'll _respect_ that, Scott."  The lady might appear soft and
 feminine but she had a will of iron.
    "Thank you," I said to her quietly.
    "Anything for a fellow telekinetic," she said.  "I certainly didn't
 intend to invade the privacy of your thoughts uninvited.  If you weren't
 here to hold the mast, I'd be hard-pressed to keep it up."
    "But -- I'm not holding it," I said slowly.  "I thought you were."
    Jean looked at me, startled, then we both looked at the mast,
 floating behind us.  "What's holding it up?" I said.
    From below an all-too familiar baritone voice spoke up.  "Since you
 both relinquished your grip on the mast, I took the liberty," Magneto said
 rising toward us.  He looked at me with a credible, well-acted look of
 unfamiliar concern.  "Young woman, does your family know you are risking
 your life up here?"
    I looked at him a long moment, thinking fast.  How much did Jean
 know?  How much was she going to keep private?  Would she take a cue from
 me?  Aloud I said, "They don't know.  But if they did know my reasons for
 being here, they'd understand."
    Magneto raised an eyebrow.  "Indeed," was all he said.
    He turned to look at Scott and Jean, and his eyes widened.  "Jean,"
 he said, genuinely surprised.  "You are _alive_.  I am glad."
    Jean just looked back at him.  "There was an impostor who took my
 place," she said.  "I do not remember anything since the shuttle crash in
 New York Harbor."
    "Six years," Magneto said.  "Then -- the masquerade was superb.  I
 never doubted -- her identity, and I mourned when I heard of your -- her
 death.  I have regretted my change of philosophy and methods came too late
 for us to meet as friends and allies."
    "Hold it just a minute there," Scott said.  "Who says we're doing
 that now?"
    Magneto regarded him coolly.  "I wasn't aware we were at odds," he
 said.
    "Magneto," Scott said, and in that single word-sound was at least ten
 years of antagonism.  "What do you think you are doing up here?"
    "Cyclops," Magneto replied smoothly.  "Preventing property damage.
 Unless you have some objection to that?"
    "No, of course we don't," Jean broke in with a glare for Scott.
 "Magneto -- the last time _I_ met you, we were at odds.  Yet, from what
 I've seen and learned," her eyes flicked over to me, "since then, I must
 reevaluate what I feel." She shook her head.  "Now is not a good time for
 this," she said.  "We have a city falling apart and an alien ship piloted
 by Apocalypse to contend with."
    I felt like telling her what a colossal understatement she'd made but
 I held my tongue.
    "What may I do to help?" Magneto said.
    Scott glared at Magneto.  You couldn't see his eyes of course, but
 the set of his head and the firmness of his jaw indicated what he was
 doing.  Jean opened her mouth to say something, and in that instant we
 heard a child's voice say clearly "Do you think Magneto's going to fight
 Cyclops?" and stop with a gasp.
    We all looked to the source of the voice -- on top of the mast
 Magneto held next to us.  The Master of Magnetism gestured and four
 costumed children rose from just behind the crest in a force bubble.  There
 were two boys and two girls, varying in age from about 5 to 12 years of
 age.  They weren't particularly happy about Magneto's treatment of them and
 said so.  The smaller boy was especially vehement.  "And we can _hold
 ourselves up_," he ended.
    "Who _are_ you?" Magneto said genuinely puzzled.
    "They're Power Pack -- they're friends of ours," said Scott.  "Let
 them go or you _are_ going to have a fight on your hands, I guarantee it."
    "Scott, I'm not here to fight you," said Magneto disdainfully.  "Or
 children."  With an impatient gesture, he dissolved the force field around
 them.  The older girl was able to go all cloudy, and the younger boy seemed
 to have some kind of anti-gravity power, for he held onto the other
 children and they floated along with him.
    "That's better, isn't it, _Scott_?" Jean said.  To Power Pack she
 added, "Starstreak, Counterweight, Molecula, Destroyer, you know you
 shouldn't be out here, it's dangerous."
    "But -- we _saved_ people," said the littlest one.  She had
 strawberry-blonde braids and I personally bet she would grow up to be a
 real heartbreaker -- supposing she lived that long.
    "How would your parents feel, little one," Magneto said, "were you to
 be hurt today?  Let us adults bear the risks."
    The little one looked grave and the older siblings looked thoughtful.
 Suddenly a cracked voice from below us cried out "So it's a goddamn hero
 convention, is it?" Another costumed figure on a flying mechanical steed,
 not dressed so differently from War was rapidly approaching.  "You won't
 feel so heroic when Pestilence gets through with you!" She raised a hand as
 if to throw something.
    "Watch out," Cyclops said in a low, quick voice, "she can give you a
 disease if she can get close enough."
    "She has one of those anti-psi fields," I started to say, but the
 older girl had already moved to counter her.
    She'd gone all cloudy, and now she condensed into a tiny form, crying
 "Beware the superdense form of Molecula, Mistress of Density!", landing
 with much force on Pestilence's shoulder and knocking her off her mount --
 80 floors above the street.
    "Oh no!" The littlest Power Packer cried and set off in a rainbow
 streaked path to intercept Pestilence's fall.  I reached with my TK but it
 was useless, she still had that field I couldn't touch.
    Just then there was the most godawful noise that seemed to come from
 _everywhere_.  I looked around wildly, so did everyone else, as a winged
 man with  a skull-face and metal feathers _cut_ the mast in practically
 half.  
    "Jean, get back, he's trying to kill us!" Scott cried.  Jean moved
 herself to the left, I moved to the right, Magneto dropped a few floors,
 dragging the remaining Power Pack members with him in a force bubble.
    It was well we moved as fast as we could, because the "Death" angel
 flew right through the space where we'd been.   If he had a field like
 Pestilence's, he could have cut right through our personal shields.  
    Speaking of cutting -- Magneto was no longer holding on to all of the
 mast.   He still had the greatest part, but "Death" had cut away a large
 section, which crumbled as it fell.  
    "Death's" anti-TK field must have affected Magneto; strain was
 evident on his face.   I reached for the debris -- and as I grasped it,
 Jean put her field of influence right over mine.  
    -- And then Magneto was grabbing the debris as well.  We were all
 tangled up and it was far more confusing than the first time Jean and I had
 tangled -- for Magneto dominated the configuration.  While Jean had the
 experience of sorting out minds -- and was trying to bring up her knowledge
 to the front of our consciousness; Magneto was assessing the situation.   I
 gasped as Magneto mentally looked right through me; his surprise at the
 intimacy of minds stripped bare to one another.  
    _How did I/Where did this/Invaded! My mind_! we thought
 simultaneously, psyches jumbled together painfully.   _Calm_ the Jean
 entity seemed to say.   _I've/she's had experience sorting minds before.
    Lost_!  (I think it was me thinking that, but was it?)  _I can't find
 me_!  There was a rush of concern and compassion from Jean and Magneto
 towards me; I could feel how much he actually cared.   _Of course I care_
 he 'said' with a touch of reticence and surprise that I would still care.  
 _He thinks I will never get over blaming him for my mother's death_ I
 thought at Jean.   You're/I'm separating us, aren't you?   
    Yes, the answer came, or I answered myself.   But behind that thought
 came Magneto with a touch of urgency:  _We are falling -- something must be
 done_.
    This had all taken less than seconds; much of it was deeper than mere
 words can convey.   Magneto had begun by screaming psychically about the
 invasion of his most private thoughts and Jean had instinctually damped
 him; then his need for control had asserted itself and he'd taken command
 of the meld.  Now he turned our mutual thoughts to survival -- and I had a
 taste of the will power that had seen him survive the Holocaust.  _How did
 this happen_?  I/she/he/we thought in rapid succession.  _I/I/they did not
 feel this when our/their areas of influence crossed before.  It must be
 she/her/me/Jessica bridging the psychic gap.   I/I/I am losing control
 nonetheless; I/he/Magneto must withdraw from the contact so_ --   With a
 show of sheer psychic brawn, Magneto pulled/pushed himself out of the three
 way contact, leaving Jean and I gasping at the sheer _pain_ of his action.
    It wasn't merely unpleasant, it was difficult to untangle as well, as
 though our minds had been stuck together.   Bile boiled up in my throat and
 I could feel myself start to tumble as I lost control of my/our/her hovers.
    "Jean!" I heard Scott call.   "Jessica!"  Magneto cried almost at the
 same time.   Far below, I could hear the littlest Power Pack kid shriek as
 a huge chunk of the mast headed for her and her unconscious burden.   
    
    * * * 
    
    I didn't lose consciousness, but I did gray -- or Grey -- out, as it
 were.   It seemed to me that Jean took control and pulled us apart; half
 regretful that she would lose even this little bit of telepathy.  _How
 horrible_ I thought.   _Losing mind-reading is like losing your legs_. 
    Magneto cleared his throat, and I opened my eyes.   I was floating on
 a magnetic bubble; I could feel the tiniest prick on his influence on the
 parts of my body that touched it.   Scott was crouched next to Jean,
 holding her as though he were afraid she was dying.  
    "You're awake," Magneto said.   He looked relieved.   "I had to
 choose between catching you and Jean; or catching the debris," he said.
    "I fear it may have hit the youngest child." 
    "Oh, no," I said.   I lifted myself up, careful to avoid crossing his
 touch.   "Where did Power Pack go?" I said.  
    "To check on their sister?" he said.  
    Next to us, I heard Jean say, "Don't be silly, Scott.  Jess -- she
 didn't attack me.   We crossed each other."  To us she said, "We had better
 see what's up." 
    Descending more swiftly than an elevator, we traveled down to the
 street.   Magneto brought the remains of the mast down after us.  
    The debris had hit the street, crushing several cars beneath it.   I
 steeled myself and scanned the wreckage for bodies.   _Oh Lord_ I thought
 as I extended my awareness, _that cute little girl_....    
    "There!" Jean said.  We followed her around a large chunk of the
 mast.  The littlest Packer was sobbing next to Pestilence, who lay half
 crushed beneath a section of debris like the Wicked Witch of the East.  The
 other children were gathered round her, her sister also crying and the
 younger boy wiping surreptitiously at his eyes.  Besides the Horseman,
 there seemed to be no casualties.
    "Oh, Katie," Jean said.  "I'm so sorry."
    "Child," Magneto said and picked up the little girl just as he would
 have Anya, her head against his shoulder, softly stroking her hair.
 _Anya_?  I thought, because information had stuck in my mind like gunk
 between my teeth.  _That was his little daughter_.  His sadness at her loss
 often overwhelmed him when I was in danger; were I in his shoes I'd have
 seriously considered locking me in a padded room to keep me _safe_.
    It was his fatherly concern that had given him the strength to cut
 free from me and Jean; the loss of the autonomy of the self had frightened
 him yet at the same time he had enjoyed it; to really communicate.  I felt
 like I wanted to talk over a hundred things with him, yet this was no time
 to do it.
    Jean had put her arms around the shoulders of the remaining Power
 Pack kids.  I caught her eye and she winked at me.  Another person I had so
 much to discuss with.  We'd be untangling ourselves for weeks; but it was
 rather a pleasant prospect.
    "What's going on here?" Scott demanded, coming around the corner of
 the debris.  He'd gone to check on the rest of the wreckage.  Magneto
 looked up, Jean turned round, but it was me who found my voice first.
    "When the tower fell we all grabbed for it at the same time, Scott,"
 I said.  He looked startled, and I realized I'd used his real name -- it
 just felt as if I knew him that well.  "Magneto had to choose between
 catching us or the debris -- and he chose us."
    "Ah," Scott said.  "I see." It was the kind of remark you make when
 you plan on _seeing_ later but can't quite manage just now.
    "Scott, we have to go after Warren," said Jean.
    I somehow knew from the jumble of memories I had received from
 Magneto and Jean, that the Death who had attacked us was an altered Angel,
 better known as Warren Worthington III.  I could see in Magneto's
 expression that he had concluded that as well.
    "You must go after him," he said to Jean.  "Apocalypse has deranged
 his mind."
    Jean nodded wordlessly, but Scott said, "As much as I'd like to,
 there's still Apocalypse to stop.  We can't pursue a personal agenda."
    "Besides," said Magneto. "Warren may have returned to Apocalypse's
 ship, by now."
    Scott walked over to Pestilence's metal steed, which had landed near
 its defunct owner, standing like a blank-eyed metal statue.  "I always said
 I could fly anything," he said half to himself, "and now I'm going to find
 out." He mounted, checking the controls set in the high cantle of the saddle.
 "Get up behind me, Jean," he said.  "We're going to the ship."
    As she went to sit behind Cyclops, Magneto spoke up.  "I'll come with
 you," he said.
    Scott's head snapped around.  "Not on your life!" he said heatedly.
 "I'll have enough problems without having to watch my back, thank you!  Go
 protect your Hellfire Club interests if you have to do something."
    A dark look stole over Magneto's face and then it smoothed again.  He
 opened his mouth to say something -- no doubt sarcastic or acid-tinged,
 when Jean cut him off.
    "Someone has to protect the city," she said.  "What if Warren isn't
 on the ship, Scott?  Someone has to stop him and I'd prefer it to be a
 friend."
    "I will do my best to avoid injury to him, Jean," Magneto said.
    "Thank you," she said.  "If we don't come out in half an hour, we
 would appreciate some backup."
    "Jean!" Scott said.
    "What choice do we have?" Jean said to him.  "We can't let personal
 feelings get in the way, can we?"
    By the set of his jaw I could see Scott was thinking.  but thinking
 quickly.  "All right," he said.  "A half hour, but not before."
    As the metal steed rose in the air Jean said to us, "Take care! I'll
 talk to you later." They flew swiftly away in the direction of the ship.
    Magneto turned to me.  "As for you," he said, "I have a very
 important task for you."
    "Yes?" I said, thinking _I should have volunteered to go with Scott
 and Jean_.
    "I want you to see these children back safely to their home."
    I stared at him.  He wasn't joking.  He wanted me to play super-
 powered babysitter.  "We can take care of ourselves," said the younger
 Power boy, "Counterweight", loudly.
    "Do your parents know where you are?" said Magneto.
    Counterweight looked at his feet.  "No," he said.
    "Why do I have to take care of the kids?" I said.
    "Jessica," Magneto said.  "I assure you taking charge of
 undisciplined children is a very educational experience."
    I opened my mouth to reply, but thought better of it.   
    "Why should we do what you say?" said the older girl.
    "Because, little one," said Magneto, "if you do not, I shall have to
 spank you." 
    "You wouldn't!" said Starstreak.
    "He punishes people all the time," I said, giving him a look.
    "[If you cannot get them home,]" he said in Polish, "[at least keep
 them safe until after the emergency is past.]"
    "Mom says it's impolite to speak a language in front of people who
 don't understand it," the younger boy said loudly.
    "[You shall have your hands full,]" Magneto added, ignoring him.  "[I
 expect a complete report when you get back to the mansion.]" He took off in
 Angel's last known direction.
    I watched him fly away, not sure if I should be pleased or angry.
    "Uh, we better be getting home now," said the older boy.
    "I want Mommy," said the littlest girl with a sniff.  _So do I, kid_,
 I thought.
    "I'll see you home, then," I said.  Maybe they weren't going to be a
 problem.
    "Oh no you won't," the younger boy said.  "I just bet you'd love to
 know our secret identities."
    "Listen, kid," I snapped, hands on my hips.  "I don't give a flying -- 
 ah, fig -- about who you are in real life.  But I just promised to get
 you home okay and I'm going to do it or die trying."
    "But we can't tell you our secret identities," said the little girl. 
 "We shouldn't even tell you where we live."
    The younger boy was still angry looking, the other kids concerned and
 unhappy.
    "Listen," I said.  "I promise I won't tell anyone where you live."
    "How do we know you aren't lying?" said the older girl, sensibly
 enough.
    I thought quick.  "My honor as an ex-Girl Scout," I said, holding up
 three fingers.  "Besides, I'll tell you where _I_ live," I added.  "Then
 we'll be fair and square."
    "Well," the oldest boy said.  "Give us a minute, huh?" He gestured to
 his sibling and they bent over together, football huddle style, whispering
 back and forth, with a few glances in my direction.
    "Well...okay," said the oldest boy.   "We live on the Upper West
 Side."
    "I live at Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in  Salem
 Center, New York," I said.  "That's where the X-Men live."
    "You know the X-Men?" said the younger boy.
    "Err -- some of them," I said.  _Magneto counted, sort of_.
    "Wow," said the younger boy.  "Are you an X-Man?"
    "Not on your life!"  I said.  "I'm just... a student there."
    "What's your name?" said Starstreak.
    "Ah," I said.  I didn't want to say _Miranda_, I'd just be confused
 if they called me that.  "Call me Jessica."
    "Okay, Jessica," said the older boy, with a bit of confidence.  "We
 live at 187 West 57th Street," 
    "Good," I said.  "I'll fly us there."
    "We can fly ourselves," said the smallest girl.
    "I can't really fly but Ka -- Starstreak can tow me," said the
 smaller boy.  "And I can hold onto Destroyer."
    "Let's get going," I said.   "Your parents are going to be worried if
 we don't get a move on."
    We headed across Manhattan diagonally, more or less.  The kids flew
 slower than I wanted -- Counterweight holding up Destroyer with his anti-
 gravity power, Starstreak towing the both of them.  Molecula, Mistress of
 Density, flew alongside them, in a cloud form.
    I let the kids lead -- they were evidently native New Yorkers, or at
 least more native than I was.  We proceeded north and west without incident
 for more than a mile.  Between the buildings I occasionally caught glimpses
 of the alien ship; it had stopped tumbling and was drifting slowly in the
 direction of New Jersey.
    We cut west across another street.
    "Look!" cried Destroyer. "There's a building on fire!"
    Firemen and fire engines were clustered around it, like bees around a
 flower.  Smoke and occasional flames were pouring out of the lower windows.
 "I don't think we should --" I started to say.
    "The ladders aren't reaching high enough!" said Starstreak.  "They
 can't reach the people!"
    The little girl was right; the building was too high, and there were
 people hanging out the top windows and huddled on the roof.
    "We've got to do something," declared 'Molecula.'
    "Whoa, wait a second," I said.  "You've got to get home safe."
    "But the people --" she started to say.
    "I'll take care of it," I said.  "You wait for me on that roof over
 there.  I won't be but a minute."
    It actually took me more than a minute.  Certainly more than five,
 probably less than ten, though I was so busy it seemed longer.  The first
 lady I picked up panicked and started screaming until I put her down safely
 next to the ambulance.  The rest of the people came more quietly.  "I
 _love_ you, lady!" a middle-aged man called out as I lowered him to the
 ground.
    Lastly I swept my TK though the empty building.  I didn't have time
 to be very careful, but I didn't find any signs of life outside of a cat
 crouched beneath a stove.  I got it out, grateful that my seeker sense
 meant I didn't have to get any closer than the air outside the building.
 The heat and the flames wouldn't have bothered me, but the smoke would have
 affected me as much as anyone.
    I didn't stop to wave, I just bugged out.  There was a television
 news truck pulled up, I noted with a sinking heart.  I was certainly going
 to come in for an unfair share of fame.  I wondered what they'd make of the
 fact that I was Magneto's daughter
    Well, they weren't about to find out from me.   I flew to the roof
 where Power Pack waited.   I'd half expected them to bug out.
    "You were _great_!"  Starstreak said.
    "Let's get going," I said.   A helicopter was hovering above the
 burning building.   "I don't fancy being the lead story on the six o'clock
 news."
    "I know how we can lose them," said Counterweight.   He directed us
 up several streets and alleys, allowing the copter to lose us entirely.
 We came on the Hudson River, New Jersey across the water.
    The alien ship was heading west, and I hoped it would keep going into
 the sunset.   Power Pack paused alongside of me.
    "I think it's going to hit the Statue of Liberty," Starstreak said in
 a small high voice.
    "Huh?" her next eldest brother said.   I felt like echoing him as I
 tried to calculate the trajectory.   The Statue was right in the ship's
 path -- though the ship was still comfortably high.   It seemed to be slowly 
 sinking....
    "You're right -- it _is_ going to hit," said Destroyer.
    "What are we gonna do?" said Counterweight.
    Power Pack was all looking at me.   "We're supposed to go home," I
 said.   Their eyes looked somehow bigger and sadder.   "I doubt it's going
 to hit," I said.   "It's just the angle.   An optical illusion."
    "We could go and make sure," said Starstreak.   "It would only take a
 _minute_."
    I tried to figure out an answer to that.   Noemi would have pointed
 out that the Statue was after all only a statue, a symbol that had very
 little to do with the true meaning of Liberty.   But I knew in my heart
 that it was too beautiful, too meaningful to far too many people to let it
 fall.
    "Please!" said Starstreak.   She was close to tears.   "You won't let
 anything happen to Lady Liberty, will you Jessica?"
    "Well," I said.   "We _could_ go out and see...."
    
       * * *
    
    Halfway across the open expanse of New York Harbor, I was
 having serious doubts.  We were too exposed -- this was quite
 different from zipping between the Manhattan skyscrapers, where
 there were plenty of escape routes and hidey holes.  I was just
 about to ask the kids if I could carry them, so we could fly
 faster, when I made the mistake of looking at our destination.
    The alien ship was definitely going to hit the Statue.
 The knowledge was like a drink of extremely cold water,
 spreading chill through my insides.  "Holy shi--" I started to
 say, breaking off when I remembered who was with me.
       We pulled up just in front of the monument.  It's
 nearly 300 feet high -- the pedestal making up half the
 elevation, but even so, it's a stupendously big statue.
 Amazingly, there were tourists still in the crown.
    I looked up -- the alien ship was looming over us now.  It
 had almost ceased its westward drift and now seemed engaged in a
 slow motion somersault back towards New York, which would take
 its tailpipe crashing through the Statue of Liberty in only a
 matter of minutes.
    _Think, Jessica_! I said to myself.  _And don't panic while
 you're at it_....
    "Okay," I said to the kids.  "First things first.  I want
 you to clear all the tourists from the Statue.  They'll never
 get down the inside stairs on their own in time.  Get them away
 from the base of the pedestal.  If -- _if_ -- there's wreckage,
 we don't want it landing on them."
    "What are you going to do?" said Destroyer.
    I looked up at the alien construct above us.  "Try my hand
 at ship-wrangling," I said.
    I landed on top of the crown, sitting so my legs dangled
 down on either side of the "points."  I didn't want to waste
 concentration on keeping myself in the air.  I took off my
 helmet and put it carefully on the flat, rubbing my temples
 where it had pressed.  Then I sat a little straighter, shut my
 eyes and began to try to _grab_ that ship.
    It was vaster -- a hundred times the size of the zeppelin
 mast, easily.  Even if I could only take hold of a portion,
 though, I might be able to push it away.
    If I _could_ take hold....  Another anti-telekinetic
 field, like the one on War's armor.  It was like trying to hug a
 thornbush.  I shook my head; the field hadn't _hurt_, exactly,
 and I didn't seem to be harmed by it, but I couldn't grab the
 Statue through it.  
    I looked down at Power Pack, busy ferrying tourists down
 to the ground.  They were trusting me to get the job done.  If I
 held onto the ship despite the field....
    Ever play snap-the-whip with you as the whippee?  It was
 like that -- all I could do was grit my teeth and hold on as
 hard as I could.  I couldn't extend my grip; I couldn't exert
 any force.  I tried for the longest time, but eventually, I had
 to break off.
    I let my breath out with a great sigh and opened my eyes. 
 I had an audience -- the Power Packers had joined me.  I
 hurriedly put my helmet back on and realized I'd been clenching
 my fists so tightly my knuckles were white.  I opened my hands
 and looked at the deep dents my fingernails had made on my
 palms.
    "Are you okay?" Counterweight said.  "We didn't want to
 disturb you."
    "Oh, _I'm_ fine," I said disconsolately.  "I just can't do
 it."
    "Oh," said Molecula.  "But it slowed down -- we thought --"
    "No, it's doing that on its own," I said.  I had a touch
 of headache, from concentrating so much.  "If it were only 50
 feet higher."
    "Hey -- Al -- Destroyer," Counterweight blurted out.  "I
 bet if we went up and you disintegrated that tailpipe, I bet the
 ship would miss Lady Liberty!"
    "You know -- it might work," I said.  "If your power works
 on the ship...."
    There was nothing to do but try it.   Starstreak had to
 push the boys onto the structure.  I couldn't get any closer
 than ten yards or so: when I hit the field my TK started going
 flaky and I dropped like a rock.  Evidently the Pack's powers
 weren't affected by the field.
    The two girls joined me right above the Statue, where less
 than 50 feet now separated it from the ship.  "I don't think
 they're going to make it, do you?"  Molecula whispered in my
 ear.
    "I sure hope--" I said, measuring with my eye.  The ship
 was still moving, slower than before.
    "Could you -- could you pick up the statue?" said
 Starstreak, making little rainbow loops around me and her
 ethereal sister.  "Could you move _it_ instead?"
    "I don't know...." I said, letting my seeker sense wash
 over the monument.  It was all of one piece; structural girders
 bolted and reinforced all through it, metal welded to metal,
 metal sunk in concrete, stone mortared together.  "There's no
 place I can just take it apart, and have any chance of putting
 it back together again," I said.
    "But if the ship hits the Statue, it's gonna damage it
 anyway," said Molecula.  "You'd be more careful, anyway."
    She was right and I opened my mouth to tell her so when an
 all-too-familiar voice spoke up behind me.  "Under the
 circumstances I shall not remonstrate with you for your failure
 to take the children home as I requested."
    I turned.  "Fa--"  I caught myself in confusion at what
 I'd almost said.  There was no time for dealing with a personal
 relationship that had suddenly steered wide of what I'd thought
 it would be.  "Magneto!" I said.  "I can't stop the ship!"
    Magneto raised an eyebrow at my slip, glanced upward at
 the diminishing gap.  "The lads are doing their best," he said. 
 "Pity it isn't enough."  He raised his hands and bright lines of
 power flared out, carefully missing the spot where the boys
 still worked at disintegrating.
    I watched his face as he worked, stern and determined.  He
 frowned as he brought his arms down.  "If I had more time," he
 said.  "The ship is protected in several ways."
    "Oh, _please_ save the Statue of Liberty, Mr. Magneto,"
 Starstreak said tearfully.
    "I have not failed yet," he said.  He was still,
 concentrating.  "How simple," he said.  "What is the American
 expression?  'Don't raise the bridge, lower the water?'"
    He gestured again, and his power flowed over Lady Liberty.
 With a creak and a groan, the great metal statue bent at the
 waist.  The ship would clearly miss it now.
    "Oh!"  I said.  There was a cheer from the kids.
    "Messieurs Bertholdi et Eiffel surely did not foresee this
 day when they built an all-metal statue," he said.  "A provident
 choice of materiel."
    Destroyer and Counterweight floated down from the tailpipe
 and I caught the younger brother by the hand to hold him in
 place.  We all watched as the ship, seeming to speed up now,
 passed through the space where the Statue's massive head and
 torch had formerly occupied.
    "You're going to be able to put it back, aren't you?"
 Counterweight asked hesitantly.
    "Indeed," Magneto said.  Again, he sent his power forth
 and the great statue straightened, dimples in her green copper
 skin straightening out as brightness played over them.  "As good
 as new," he said.  "In fact, I've reversed some oxidation and
 improved the structure slightly."
    "Cool!" Counterweight said.  Magneto's eyes twinkled as he
 looked at me.
    The ship was falling towards Manhattan now.  "It's going
 to land in the harbor!"  I said.  "Look at it go!"  Luckily
 there were no ships in its path and it landed with a great
 splash, the "bow" coming to rest on X-Factor headquarters on the
 shore.
    "Uh-oh," I said.  There was a mini-tsunami developing as
 the ripples spread out from the ship.  "I'll get that," I said
 and dropped to just above the water level in front of Liberty
 Island.  As the big wave approached I hardened the air into a
 wedge, forcing the wave to break well off-shore and swing around
 the island.
    I watched the wave recede toward the Jersey shore. It was
 mostly deserted wharves and warehouses, so far as I could see
  -- nothing I had to worry about then. I heard a clicking,
 snapping noise and looked around to see the crowd of tourists
 who'd been standing on Liberty Island were clustered around the
 wall at the front of the island taking my picture. I flew back
 up to where Magneto and Power Pack hovered in front of Lady
 Liberty.
    "Very good, Jessica," Magneto said. He didn't hover so
 much as he solidly _stood_ on the firm floor of a magnetic force
 field. "Your control of a large area field is impressive."
    His expression was not at all mocking. "I did what I
 could," I said shyly. _I almost called him 'father,'_ I thought.
 It had slipped out in a moment of stress.  I'd just been in his
 head and now I felt so confused about everything I'd ever
 thought about him.
    "It is high time you were getting home," he said. I looked
 up and realized he was addressing Power Pack.
    "But what about X-Factor?" Counterweight piped up. "You
 said you'd go after them --"
    Magneto shifted his eyes speculatively towards the now
 quiescent ship. "So I shall," he said, "But I shall take time
 first to see you are sent home."
    "I can take them," I said a little guiltily. "We really
 _were_ headed there --"
    "Save the explanations for later," he said.
    There was a flash of white light on the statue's torch
 next to us: Illyana's stepping disk, with Illyana in it. She put
 her hands on her hips. "I've chased you over half of Manhattan!"
 she said to me. "You kept moving around -- I'd just find
 someplace to stand and off you'd go!"
    "Illyana," Magneto said in an even, firm voice. "I have no
 time for questions or explanations of why you are pursuing
 Jessica _or_ what you are doing in Manhattan. You will now
 assist Jessica in seeing these children home. You will then
 return for me. I shall be at the ship."
    Illyana's lips pursed in a firm little line.  She put her
 hands together and salaamed. "'As you command, Master,'" she
 said. White stepping disks welled up and swallowed us all except
 the Master of Magnetism.
    
    * * *
 
    "Hey!" said Counterweight. "Where is this place?"
    "Welcome to Limbo," said Illyana. "Sort of a way station
 for lost souls and kids on their way home."
    "Don't worry," I said to the kids, "She's a friend and on
 our side." Little Katie relaxed, and so did her oldest brother.
 Thoughtfully I added, "And her brother is an X-Man."
    Counterweight goggled, "Really?" he said in a voice that
 almost cracked with curiosity.
    After that, matters went much more smoothly. I convinced
 Power Pack that Illyana could be trusted with the secret of
 their address and she teleported us to the roof of the apartment
 building -- just as their mother came walking tiredly up the
 street to their front door. The kids said goodbye and scrambled
 for the stairs. Illyana and I shamelessly eavesdropped above
 their window until we were assured everything was hunky-dory.
    "Back to the ship?" I said quietly.
    "Sounds good to me," she said. "Listen... don't let Maggie
 get to you.  We did the right thing and he's just gonna have to
 accept it."
    "'Darling, I didn't know you cared,'" I said lightly, and
 she laughed.
    Another _wrench_, a stop off in Limbo, another _wrench_;
 we were back on top of the ship. There was a crowd of people on
 it -- the press was interviewing X-Factor! Someone turned and
 said, "Hey -- there's more of them!" and some of the reporters
 who weren't on the inside circle around X-Factor came running
 over to us.  I thanked my lucky stars I still had my helmet on.
    "[Drat it all!]" said Illyana softly in Russian, "[I
 screwed up that jump -- we missed some time here.]"
    "[Oh boy]," I said.
    "How did it feel to save the city?" said the first
 reporter and they just about surrounded us, the questions coming
 thick and fast -- did we know Magneto, had Apocalypse really
 gotten away?
    "Wonderful, does anybody really, what do you think?"
 Illyana said equably while I gaped at the microphones and lenses
 being thrust in my face.
    There was a pushing in the crowd and Jean came walking
 through into our circle. She caught my eye and gave me a wink.
 "And these are two of our friends who came to help us in our
 fight against Apocalypse," she said, standing between us and
 putting friendly arms on each of our shoulders. The press
 snapped away -- and that's when some photographer took the
 picture of the three of us that ended up on the front page of
 one of New York's lesser tabloids.
    While the flashes strobed, Jean leaned over and whispered
 into my helmet, "I thought Magneto said he told you to go home."
    I smiled for the press and then whispered back to her. "We
 couldn't leave, not knowing whether you were okay."
    "Thanks," she said quietly.  "But with the press here, we
 can't talk in private. We'll try to visit in the next few days,
 okay?"
    "Sounds good to me," I said in an equally quiet tone.
    Illyana was still "answering" questions while we talked.
 The information content was nil, of course, but she seemed to be
 enjoying herself greatly.
    I caught her eye and nodded.  "It's time for us to go
 now," she said, bowing slightly and moving to stand next to me. 
 "Smile for the cameras," she said to me, her arm around my
 shoulders.  The flashes of the reporter's cameras shifted into a
 general white light as we 'ported away.
    
    * * *
 
 Somehow, I'd imagined we'd have a welcoming committee back at
 the mansion.  Illyana put us back right where we'd started from,
 the big entrance foyer.  There was no one in sight, and somehow,
 something felt wrong.  I looked at the grandfather clock; it was
 barely four hours since we'd left on our rescue mission to
 Manhattan.  We must have lost at least an hour on the bad jump. 
 I looked around, said, "Are you sure you got us back the right
 _day_?"
    Illyana gave me half-a-smile.  "Haven't made a mistake
 like that in a while," she shrugged.  "Think I got it right.
 Let's go check."
    I felt as though we walked through a deserted house for
 the first time; though I could hear faint talking and knew we
 were not alone.  "Can you feel it?" I said to Illyana, "like a
 sense of... doom or something?"
    She considered this.  "Nah," she said.  "Everybody's down
 in the basement."
    To get to the underground complex we passed right by the
 living room, where the TV set was turned on, the sound low.
 There were three heads poking up behind the sofa back: Dani's,
 Rahne's, and Amara's curly blonde one.
    There was some sort of news report on the TV; I could see
 a reporter talking to the camera with "Dallas, Texas" and the
 CNN logo imposed over her.
    Amara's head turned.  "You're back!  One less worry,
 then," she said, getting up and coming to the doorway.  
    Dani was right behind her.  "So what took you so long?"
 she said.
    "Glad to see you, too," I said.  "We were fine until the
 last jump, where we lost a couple hours."
    "Hey," she said, and shook her head.  "I was about ready
 to chew my nails up to elbow length.  But Maggie ordered us to
 sit tight--"
    "What's up?" Illyana said, jutting her chin at the
 babbling TV.
    "The X-Men are in Dallas," Amara said.  "There's some kind
 of trouble -- some threat to reality called the Adversary
 they're fighting." Her voice lowered.  "I do not think the
 battle goes well."
    "Where's everyone else?"  I said.
    "They'll be down in the media center," Amara said, her
 eyes looking back to the screen.  Despite her composure, Amara
 was worried, which worried me.  Amara never wasted energy
 getting upset over little things.
    Illyana picked up on this as well.  "I'm glad Peter and
 Kitty are safe in Scotland."  She looked again at the TV set.
 "Let's go to the media center," she said to me.  "If only to let
 them know we've shown up."
    I turned to go and turned back before Amara had gone back
 to the couch.  "'Lito -- how is he?" I said.
    She smiled gracefully.  "Resting in the infirmary with
 Roulette and Catseye," she said.  "Sharon put them off limits so
 they can rest -- Catseye was in a particularly bad way.
 However, I doubt she would object if you looked in for just a
 minute."
    "They'll be staying for a while?" I said.  
    "The White Queen will call for them tomorrow," she said.
    "Hey, they're showing more pictures," Dani said.  "Looks
 like the real fight is starting!"
    "We'd better get downstairs," said Illyana.
    The media center allows the X-Men to monitor almost all of
 the world's major broadcast channels, as well as major computer
 newswires such as UPI and Reuters.  Magneto, Dr. MacTaggert, and
 the others were watching the big screen showing CNN while the
 other sets showed network anchors trying to describe what they
 were seeing on CNN.  
    Illyana opened her mouth with such a sarcastic look that I
 poked her before she spoke.  "It's not the time for a joke," I
 whispered.  Evidently a camera crew had gone along with the
 X-Men, wherever they were, broadcasting back to Dallas.
    "It's Storm!" Doug said.  "She's got her powers back!"
    Magneto left his chair and came to the doorway where we
 stood.  "You were further detained?" he said.
    "Mistimed my next-to-last jump," said Illyana with a moue.
 "I didn't want to risk any potential paradoxes by trying to make
 up for it."
    He shook his head.  "I feared to have set out in search of
 you both."  Even _he_ was glancing back at the screen; the X-Men
 were supposedly his friends, now.  "We'll debrief as soon as the
 _other_ situation resolves.  Illyana, if you would rest as much
 as possible -- there may be need of your services soon."
    "Why don't I take you there now?" she said.  "They're in
 Dallas, right?"
    "_Illyana_--" Magneto said.  "The X-Men are in another
 dimension whose portal is presently in Dallas.  There seems to
 be an impenetrable barrier about it -- so we could not help in
 any case."  He put his hand on her shoulder.  "And lastly, you
 are weary.  You have already misjudged one jump already.  Rest
 as much as possible.  If there is need, I'll call you."
    Illyana's face wavered between defiance and weariness.
 "Trust me," Magneto said, and she nodded, finally.
    "I'm headed to the infirmary," I said.
    Magneto nodded.  I looked up at him and had a feeling of
 double vision.  I saw the man who had fathered me and tried to
 take over the world several times; and the quiet soul who longed
 for happiness for the children who'd been given into his care.
 Having had him in my head, however briefly, had confused me more
 than I knew how to comprehend.
    "Perhaps it would be a good idea for Sharon to check you
 over," he said.  He'd put his hand on my shoulder and I hadn't
 noticed him doing it.  I had to be unwell.
    "I think I'll crash down there," said Illyana.  To
 Magneto, she added, "You know where to find me if you need me."
    
    * * *
 
    The infirmary's lights were dimmed.  Sharon was in a chair
 next to Roulette's bed.  The young Hellion was sitting up
 sipping a glass of fruit juice and watching CNN.  Beyond her I
 could see 'Lito and Catseye asleep.
    Sharon quietly greeted us.  Illyana declined medical aid,
 kicked off her boots and laid down on one of the unoccupied
 beds.
    "How about you -- need any doctoring?" said Sharon.
    "I'm not bragging or anything," I said.  "But I didn't
 take so much as a scratch."
    "You had us worried," Sharon said.  "When you were knocked
 through the Daily Bugle building...."
    "Wait a sec'," I said.  "How did you know I got knocked
 through a building?"
    "There was a news crew up on roof of the next building,"
 she said.
    "What did you call it -- the Daily Bugle? As in the
 tabloid?  I never caught the name,"  I said.  
    "I hope you didn't rile the editor," Sharon said.  "J.
 Jonah Jameson is down on superheroes at the best of times."
    I recognized that name.  "Oh, well," I said.  "Too late."
    "Come quick," said Roulette.  She looked terribly thin
 still.  The TV was showing the X-Men about to undergo a magical
 ceremony.  Sharon and I went to sit by her -- I moved another
 chair over.
    "Oh no -- oh no!"  Roulette murmured as the Indian
 outlined his plan to stop the Adversary.  Nine people had to die
 to fulfill it -- the only problem was there were only seven X-Men
 there to participate: Storm, Havok, Wolverine, Dazzler,
 Psylocke, Rogue, and Longshot.  "They're _heroes_," she said to
 me tearfully.  "They can't die."
    I took her hand.  On my other side, Sharon put hers in
 mine as well.  "They'll do it too," she said quietly.
    The NPR cameraman Neil Conan and Scott's estranged wife
 Madelyne Pryor volunteered to make up the quorum.  I watched it
 all, as "Forge" spoke his spell and the volunteers went out in a
 great flash of white light.  Even though I had never met these
 people I was still touched by their bravery, and I was so very
 glad of the human comfort of two warm hands in mine.
    Then the TV cut away; the dimensional portal opened and
 Forge and the female reporter walked out; the darkness over
 Dallas cleared.  The commentator was talking a mile a minute --
 "Can this, then, be the end of the X-Men -- time and time again
 they have disappeared from public view, only to reappear when
 least expected--"
    I turned the volume down with my TK.  Sharon was crying
 openly and Roulette's eyes were wet.  "I can't believe it,"
 Sharon said, her tears belying her words.  "How will we go on
 without them?"
    I didn't cry; there was just a great pressure in my chest.
 I remembered War dying in front of me; grateful to have an
 honorable death, telling me not to mourn but to live right.
 "We'll do our best," I said to her, to myself. "We must."
.