Sanctuary (21 page)

"We've got a major situation here, Alex," Val said. "Like nothing else we've encountered. Have you heard anything about it?"

"Val, gimme a break, will ya?" he said gruffly. "We're in the middle of the latest outbreak in a seemingly endless civil war. X-Factor is about the only thing keeping the two sides from slaughtering each other during peace negotiations. I've been fighting for days! I'm not exactly near a TV set, y'know!"

"Okay, relax," she said. "Look, all I want to know is, how soon could you get out of Genosha if you had to?"

"You mean, if we decided to let it all go, to let chaos tear Genosha apart? Just up and left?" he said, astonished.

"If that's what it takes, yeah," she responded. "How long?"

"Three to six hours, depending on Lorna's wounds and how badly our transport was damaged," Havok said grimly. "But I mean it, Val. Tomorrow, maybe they won't need us this bad. Right now, though, with the UN dragging their heels, we're the only thing holding Genosha together."

"Plus, it would take another ten hours for you to get here," she said, thinking aloud. "Damn."

"What's that, Val? I couldn't hear you. What's our next move?" Havok asked.

"Stay put, Alex," she said finally. "But as soon as your presence isn't absolutely vital, get back here. And be prepared to withdraw immediately on my command if it gets too hot here."

"What is it, Val?" Havok said. "What's going on back there?"

She considered telling him, but thought better of it. Knowing Alex Summers, it was completely possible he'd say the hell with Genosha and evac immediately. Which, despite the country's crisis, would have been fine with Val if she thought it would make a difference. But sixteen, even thirteen hours, would very likely get them there too late to make a difference.

"Just stay put, Havok," Val said curtly. "Let me worry about it."

Valerie Cooper stood, ran a hand over her blonde hair where it was tied back in a tight ponytail, and stepped to the door of her trailer. When she stepped outside, she noticed a glow in the eastern sky and realized that dawn was not far off. She wasn't sure if that would make things easier or more difficult for what was to come.

The first order of business, however, was to acquire the Sentinel override codes. Val was certain that her original plan was the only one with a prayer of succeeding without massive loss of life and property damage. Perhaps the only one with any hope of succeeding at all. Otherwise, Magneto might very well achieve his dreams of empire. No, she had to get those codes.

One way, or another.

• • •

For many years, Charles Xavier had been repulsed by the manner in which the media vultures feasted on the helpless, dying form of America. As the night wore on toward morning, Xavier's throat had become parched and sore from incessant talking. Just as swiftly, his sense of moral justice had become, if not dulled, then most certainly numbed by the overwhelming cynicism of the media. It wasn't just repulsive anymore, it was damned depressing.

Only Annelise Dwyer, of all the gathered journalists, had not lowered herself to pander to the fears and prejudices of the nation. Though, admittedly, given the atmosphere created by the agitated military presence, much might be forgiven of those tempted toward confrontation. Xavier had always had a respect for the military—indeed, had willingly served in the Army in his younger days—tempered by knowledge and common sense. He only hoped that there were people in charge who did not share the blind fervor of zealots like Henry Peter Gyrich.

As he wheeled his chair away from his latest interview—with E! Entertainment Television of all things—the psi-web that emanated from him at all times picked up angry thoughts with himself as their focus. Xavier nonchalantly turned his wheelchair, as though recalling something he needed to do, toward the source of those thoughts.

Val Cooper stalked toward him, filled with righteous anger and a visible sense of plan or purpose.

"Professor Xavier, we need to talk," Ms. Cooper said.

"I am at your service as always, Valerie," Xavier responded. "Shall we go to your trailer?"

Cooper looked at him oddly for a moment, and Xavier caught a hint of amusement in her thoughts. Without prying further, he understood. It had crossed Val's mind that observers, media or military, might believe himself and Valerie to be involved in some kind of affair, that they were sneaking off on a lovers' tryst. Xavier stifled a smile, for he did not want Cooper to think he was reading her thoughts without her consent. And it had been a momentary, whimsical thought.

He didn't have to read her mind to know Cooper realized that it was more likely they would be suspected of some conspiracy than of any intimacy. She was lithe, blond, and powerful. He was bald and crippled, and no matter how handsome he might or might not have been, gossip was not likely to center around a potential relationship between them. Such were the assumptions of the world. What bothered Charles was the reason for the assumptions, not the assumptions themselves. For it was true, he could never be involved with Valerie. But that was because he was sworn to another, not because of his handicap.

"What is it you want, Valerie?" he asked as they neared her trailer. "I sense great turmoil in you."

"What, you mean our current situation isn't cause for turmoil?" she said with heavy sarcasm.

"It's more than that," Xavier prodded. "What's on your mind?"

"It's what's on Gyrich's mind that concerns me, Charles," Val said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

They reached her trailer, and an awkward expression crossed Val Cooper's face.

"Charles," she said. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—you can't get that chair into my trailer."

"I know," he answered. "I just thought this was the most secluded spot for us to have our conversation. Please continue, you were saying something about Gyrich."

"Well, you know our plan can't go ahead without the X-Men, and Gyrich loves that," she said. "It's going to give him a chance to get back in the good graces of the President and the Director of Wideawake. You see, there has been no attack order, but I don't think Gyrich is waiting for the order. I think he's planning to send a small squad in on his own. That was his original plan."

"Even if he does that," Xavier reasoned, "it is very possible that he has been given an unofficial order to do so. Such things are very popular amongst politicians who have ardent supporters but do not want to take responsibility for the actions of those supporters. It's become par for the course in American politics, I'm afraid."

"My point exactly," Val countered. "I'm afraid. And I don't think there is anything I can do to stop him."

"Even if we get the codes from him, we cannot communicate them to the X-Men without Gyrich coming too close to the truth," Xavier said, speaking what he knew were Valerie's greatest concerns.

"That's what I've been dealing with," she acknowledged. "But I want to go ahead and do it anyway. We'll get the codes, get them to the X-Men, and hope they can wrap this whole thing up before Gyrich starts a bloody civil war with his fascist tactics."

Xavier was perplexed.

"I'm sorry, Valerie," he said. "Perhaps I misunderstood. How is it that you plan to get these codes?"

"I'm not going to, Charles. You're going to have to get them."

Immediately, Xavier understood.

"You want me to infiltrate Gyrich's mind, find the codes and pluck them out, is that it?" he asked.

"That is precisely it," she admitted. "It's the only way."

"Then there is no way," Xavier said coldly. "As you should know from the many years we have been acquainted, Valerie, I simply do not do things like that. I will not enter someone's mind without their consent unless I am required to do so for purposes of self defense."

"Don't you see, Charles," she pleaded. "This
is
self defense! If Magneto wins, you are sure to be hunted down eventually."

"That's not the way it works, Val," he snapped. "It is against everything I stand for. I simply will not do it, and you should know better than to even ask."

Cooper fell silent, but Xavier could see from the determination smoldering in her eyes that though the conversation was at an end, the topic would most definitely come up again. He did not relish the thought. There was a line he had set up for himself as a young man, when he had first discovered his abilities. He had crossed the line several times in his life, each with disastrous results.

The most painful had come when his blossoming relationship with Amelia Voght had come to a sudden end. Agonizing over her planned departure, he had psionically commanded her to stay. It had lasted only a moment, but that betrayal of Amelia, of himself and of his ethics had ended any chance they might have had at reconciliation.

Now Amelia Voght was one of Magneto's most trusted Acolytes. Charles Xavier knew that many of his students, and myriad other people he had come into contact with over the years, considered him nearly perfect, infallible. If only that were true, he thought. To them, he was Professor X, more than human, above pain and error and all the petty things that make up a.human being.

He was both pleased and saddened to know that it was not true. He made mistakes, as he had with Amelia. He felt pain when he remembered those mistakes. And he was filled with regret and self-recrimination as he wondered if that breach of the love and trust between them had been the thing to drive her, in time, to become one of Magneto's followers. If that were true, he hoped that he never discovered it. Xavier suspected it might be too much for him to bear.

As the world's most powerful psi, a telepath to whom every mind was laid bare, the absolute truth regarding any subject was available to Xavier, awaiting only his whim to reveal itself. More than any other being on the Earth, he knew the power of truth. An extraordinary weapon, it could be used to free people of burdens, to frighten them into submission, or to cause extraordinary and intimate pain.

Simply put, there were times when it was better not to know.

"Look at it this way, Charles," Cooper persisted. "If we can't get the codes from Gyrich, then the ball is in his court. He's going to go into Manhattan like a bulldozer and all hell is going to break loose. We can stop it before it gets that far."

Xavier knew she was right, but he would not compromise himself under any circumstances.

"What of X-Factor?" he asked.

"I tried," Cooper snapped. "They're unavailable."

A tense silence emerged between them. They shared a long history as allies, but they had never really been friends. Xavier began to see why the relationship had remained so strictly professional. For Val Cooper, the ends most definitely justified the means. The very thought was anathema to Charles Xavier.

"I will consider your recommendations, Ms. Cooper," he said, then turned and wheeled his chair away from her, heart heavy with thoughts of consequence.

• • •

As he descended into the PATH station for the second time that day, Henry Peter Gyrich entertained several moments of unusual self-reflection. Normally, he was so caught up with his job that he never had time to consider his work, his future, his goals, no time for hollow shouts of victory or the tears of self-recrimination. But this was a rare, quiet moment before the start of what might be his greatest victory.

Gyrich was more self aware than most people gave him credit for. He knew why he was almost universally disliked, knew why Val Cooper hated him so thoroughly. He represented the ugly truth that mutants, regardless of their initial intentions, spelled doom for the rest of humanity. They claimed to be the next step in human evolution, but Gyrich knew better. Mutants were a genetic aberration, as unfortunate and' undesirable as Down's Syndrome, but far more dangerous. If they were allowed to proliferate, to assemble, to present themselves as some minority group deserving of special consideration ... well, by the time people woke up to reality, it would be too late.

Gyrich genuinely felt bad for most mutants. It was not their fault they were born with that genetic x-factor, not their fault they had become part of the problem. It was also not their fault that, just as there were human madmen, lunatics like Magneto had come to represent the image of the mutant in popular consciousness. The sanctity of the American lifestyle had to be protected from the rise of mutants, but that didn't mean that individual mutants were bad.

Cursed, perhaps, but not bad.

Not until they crossed the line. As far as Gyrich was concerned, that was inevitable. Along with their mutant gifts, he believed they received some kind of genetic trait which gave them a propensity toward violence and hostility toward authority. They believed their special powers gave them the right to do whatever they liked.

That was the greatest evil of the mutant race. They were not human, and acted as though human laws did not bind them. That was the reason the Sentinels and Operation: Wideawake were so important. That was the reason Gyrich had pushed aside much of his other work for the CIA, NSA, and other agencies in order to put emphasis on the mutant problem.

In no way did he want to see the nation tom apart by the issue. But such mutant uprisings had to be dealt with immediately and with extreme prejudice, before others began to get ideas. Already the government had brought mutants into the fold with X-Factor, which Gyrich thought was a major error. Due to their feelings of superiority, by their very nature mutants were not to be trusted.

And for the President to countenance any contact by his people with the outlaws called X-Men, why that was simply outrageous!

Mutants were a human problem, for humans to solve. Bringing in more mutants was not a solution. Some kind of electronic tracking and power-restraining implant, that would allow the government to keep track of mutants while rendering them no more dangerous to humanity than humanity itself, that was what was necessary. In any case, the world needed to see that humanity could handle the problem on its own. If they relied on mutants to rescue Manhattan from Magneto, they would be starting down a dark path to their own extinction.