Sanctuary (6 page)

What are you waiting for?
Xavier's voice said in Storm's mind.
Get moving, X-Men.

In seconds, they were racing down a corridor, boots slapping marble, toward the Institute's hangar bay. Storm was grim, determined. The
Blackbird
had already been fueled and readied, and they were aboard with the engines fired up only minutes after their meeting had concluded.

Bishop took the stick, with the Beast in the co-pilot's chair. Storm sat in back with Iceman and Wolverine. They lifted off in hover-mode, using the Vertical Take-Off and Landing mechanism the Professor had mentioned, and when they were clear of the Institute, they blasted south toward Manhattan. The trip would take only minutes, but urgency made the journey ahead seem much greater to Storm.

Aboard the
Blackbird
, the X-Men sat in somber, uncharacteristic silence. An arduous day had become a tense, dangerous night. Even on the hardest nights she had spent in Cairo, Ororo reflected, there had always been morning to look forward to. Tonight was different.

Dawn had never seemed such a distant dream.

• • •

"Gyrich, are you out of your damned mind?" the President of the United States shouted, red-faced, as he stormed over to the door of the Oval Office and slammed it shut.

The President spun on his heel and stared, and Valerie Cooper was pleased to notice that her rival, Henry Peter Gyrich, squirmed slightly in his seat. The Secretary sat just to Gyrich's left. As the Director of Operation: Wideawake, he was immediate superior to both Gyrich and Cooper. Like Gyrich, he looked uncomfortable as hell.

Val felt fine, strong, almost smug. But she didn't know why. It wasn't like she wouldn't get her ass kicked along with her comrades'.

"Mr. President," Gyrich fumbled, "it's the only way, sir. "

"No, Gyrich," the President said stiffly, cutting the Secretary out of the conversation all together. "There's got to be another way. I am not about to tell the American people that we've got a full scale war in the middle of New York City! The place is filled with civilians who've decided not to evacuate, not to mention those still in the process of doing so."

"Mr. President, if I may, those who've stayed in New York could easily be construed to be traitors to our country. Just as the Confederate soldiers were during the Civil War," Gyrich explained. "Same principle, sir."

The President's face went from red to purple, and Val expected him to explode in a tirade. Instead, he seemed almost to snarl as he bit down on every word.

"At this time, we will move troops and armaments to all logistically reasonable locations, where they will remain on standby. They are the
final
solution, and only on my specific instructions. I will not have a war on Manhattan island!" he hissed. "Do we understand each other, Gyrich?" The President leaned over Gyrich, who now looked very small in his chair.

"Mr. President, I—" Gyrich began.

Then the President did explode, shouting in Gyrich's face. Flecks of spittle flew from his mouth.

"Do you understand what I have said, Gyrich?" he shouted.

"Y-y-yes, sir. Absolutely," Gyrich said, stammering. Val was astounded. She had never seen Gyrich stammer. Had never even allowed herself the pleasure of imagining that it was possible.

Then the President turned to face the Secretary, still leaning over threateningly, though his tone had softened. He and the Secretary had known one another for years. The President had put him in the Cabinet, given him Operation: Wideawake to play with, and listened to his advice more often than not. Not today.

"You and your pit bull are still in charge of this one, Bob," the President said. "Don't mess it up. Keep him on a very short leash."

"Yes, Mr. President," was all the Secretary managed to say.

Relaxing somewhat, the President walked around his desk and sat down to face them. After glaring half a moment at Gyrich, he turned to Val and his face softened. She didn't let it fool her. He was a tough bastard, and he'd take her head off in a heartbeat if he had to.

"Now, Ms. Cooper," he said slowly. "Seems to me you're the only one whose brain is half-functioning in this room at the moment. Barring full invasion or bombing the hell out of Manhattan, what have you got for me?"

"Yes, well, first, Mr. President, I'd like to note that I don't believe either of those two options would work to begin with," Val said confidently. "Unless you're prepared to raze the city to the ground, forcing Magneto to simply find another to occupy, which would not solve the problem at all. The difficulty is the Sentinels. Correct me if I'm wrong, but we don't have the capacity to do limited, contained nuke strikes on one of them, never mind all of them simultaneously."

The President didn't smile, and Val took a mental step backward, cautioning herself not to be smug. He definitely wasn't in the mood for smug.

"Go on," he said, and Val nodded.

"The only chance we have of ending this thing without either giving up Manhattan or absolutely destroying it in an all-out war, is to get the Sentinels' original programming back online," Val concluded.

The President leaned back in his chair.

"Now we're talking." he said. "What's the holdup?"

"Well. sir," Val said, realizing the President didn't understand what she was getting at, "the only way we can do that is at the source. Somebody has to get inside the brain of the Alpha Sentinel, and change the programming from the computer core."

"Wait just a minute," the President said sharply, getting angry again, this time at all of them. "You mean to tell me that there is no remote override capacity built into these monsters?"

"No sir, there isn't," the Secretary spoke up, much to Val's relief. "It was thought that such an override would jeopardize the whole project. If anyone got hold of the code, they'd have been able to remotely hijack the whole Sentinel program."

"Which they did anyway!" the President cried in exasperation. "Good God, you don't know how grateful I am that the previous administration put this project together. I sure as hell don't believe we can keep the damn robots' origins a secret. But if we can solve this peaceably, it'll be a hell of a coup.

"So, Cooper," the President said, leaning toward her and resting his palms on his desk. "What do we do now? Obviously, we need to send a team in there, and we can't wait for X-Factor to get back from Genosha. Do we have anyone else with any experience with this kind of thing?"

"Well, sir, that's another problem," Val said, mentally crossing her fingers as she waded into the most difficult part of her pitch. But she knew she had to succeed. It was the only way. Eventually, they'd all have to realize that.

"Any human being directly approaching one of the Sentinels will be warned off," she said quickly. "And if they don't respond, they'll be incinerated."

"Cooper!" Gyrich shouted, leaping to his feet as he realized what she was about to propose. "You can't be serious! Even you've got to see that these are the monsters responsible! We can't possibly trust—"

Gyrich sputtered to a halt when he realized that the President and the Secretary were glaring at him in incredulous anger. He began to explain himself, but the President stopped him.

"Mr. Gyrich," the President began calmly. "You sit your ass down in that seat, and you don't speak again until I ask you a question. And don't you ever raise your voice in the Oval Office again."

Gyrich sat down hard and began to sulk.

"Please proceed, Ms. Cooper."

"Yes, sir, well, what I was about to say is that the only people who can get close enough to the Alpha Sentinel and distract it enough to get into the computer core are mutants. And with X-Factor unavailable, the only mutants we have any contact with that I know would be capable of the job, if anyone is, are the X-Men."

The President rolled his eyes and cupped his forehead in his left hand as if massaging a headache.

"Ms. Cooper," the Secretary said quickly, "don't you realize the public opinion regarding mutants at this time? The American people would be appalled to learn that we were working with mutants to overcome Magneto. The President would likely be accused of being a mutant himself, and there goes the election. The people don't trust any mutant, no matter how- benevolent. And I don't have to remind you, the X-Men have not exactly earned a reputation for benevolence."

"Mr. Secretary, whatever their reputation, the X-Men have saved our collective asses more times than I can count," Val countered. "We've got a number of instances in the video archives, should you care to take a look. And they're the only ones who've ever had any tangible success against Magneto."

Valerie turned to the President then, and was surprised to see the nearly pleading look on his face. He was at a loss.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," he said quietly, almost to himself, and despite the man's bluster, she felt for him.

"Mr. President, when it comes down to it, it doesn't really matter what any of us think of the X-Men, or what the American public will think," Val said finally. "Short of full-scale war, they're our only hope."

"Bob, cut to the chase," the President said, turning to his old friend and advisor. "No politics now, no diplomacy. Is she right? Is this truly our one realistic shot?"

Gyrich seemed about to speak, but then clearly thought better of it. Val assumed he had remembered the President's warning. The Secretary seemed to weigh his words carefully, apparently searching for some answer other than the truth. Finally, he relented.

"Yes, sir, Ms. Cooper is correct," the Secretary said. "God help us all."

"All right then," the President said, sitting back in his chair. "Cooper, track down the X-Men and get them into action. It's your ball, woman. Don't drop it or we're all screwed. Not to mention all the people in Manhattan who'll die if you blow it.

"Bob, you're to stay here and coordinate this thing for me, and the pit bull here is going to be on location with the troops," he continued. "You'll answer to me, but coordinate it all for me, including Cooper's little infiltration unit. Gyrich is still number two man on this job, but Cooper reports directly to you, Bob. Any problem with that, Gyrich?" the President asked.

Gyrich shook his head.

"Good," the President said. '''Cause if Cooper does blow it, there's only one failsafe left before we launch an assault and end up leveling the damn city. That's you. If Cooper's plan doesn't work, you're to be prepared with a sanction team to go into New York and terminate Magneto."

Gyrich grinned. It gave Val the chills.

"Sir, don't you know how many times that's been tried?" she said, unable to stop herself.

"Whatever it takes, Ms. Cooper," the President said. "If you do your job, it won't come to that, and we'll never have to find out if it would have worked this time.

"Now, you're all dismissed. Get to work," he said.

They stood and walked to the door of the Oval Office. The President pressed something under his desk that buzzed the door's security locks open, and Gyrich feigned enough courtesy to hold the door for the Secretary and for Val.

"One last thing, Ms. Cooper," the President said, just as she was about to pull the door shut behind her.

"Yes, sir?" she asked.

"Don't ever question me, again," he said coldly. "I'm the Commander-in-Chief of this country. You'd do well to remember that."

T
he temperature had already begun to rise aboard the
Starjammer
. It was not yet truly uncomfortable, but it was noticeably warmer inside the ship. And if they could feel the difference inside, Scott considered, how much warmer would it be outside the
Starjammer?

He'd find out soon enough. Raza and Ch'od were planning a spacewalk to repair the warp drive externally. Scott and Rogue were supposed to be their backup team, making certain they remained tethered to the ship and coordinating their tools. It was by no means his first time in space, but Scott did not think he would ever be able to venture out into that infinite void without some trepidation. It wasn't fear, though he was not so foolish as to deny fear when he felt it. Rather, it was an almost overwhelming respect, awe. In the immensity of what surrounded them, what difference did it make whether they survived or not?

Thing was, it did make a difference. No matter how insignificant they might be in the grand design, their tiny lives meant something. When he was a boy, looking up at the stars would put things in a different perspective for him. Compared to them, nothing that he did or said, nothing that happened to him was important. As an adult, that perspective had been dramatically altered. Everyone mattered to someone. Every action had an impact.

Scott was determined to see the Starjammers and the X-Men returned safely to Earth, no matter what the cost. He would revel in the beauty of the infinite, in his awe of space, but he would not fear it, or be intimidated by it. He was a human being, with a mind and a heart. Both of which he had freely given to another. That was all the perspective he would ever need.