The Legacy Quest Trilogy

by Unknown Author

  The Kree’s security systems had been effective so far. But their greatest defense-their most powerful weapon-had yet to be employed.

  When the Kree had abandoned this island base in the distant past, they had left a custom-built guardian behind: a mechanical life form, fitted with the strongest armor and the most devastating weaponry that their advanced civilization had developed. It had gone now-but the base still housed its repair facilities, and its schematics were still held in the computer’s databanks. Sebastian Shaw had hired some of the world’s foremost robotics experts. They hadn’t been able to duplicate the life form exactly—some of the materials hadn’t been available, and they hadn't entirely grasped the complexities of its artificial brain; their version was less independent, more robotic— but they had come up with something almost as formidable.

  The X-Men were approaching the entrance to the base.

  It was time, decided Tessa, to bring the Sentry into play.

  “This must be the place,” said Phoenix. They were standing in a tiny clearing, towards the forest’s edge. She could tell that it was man-made, quite recently. The stumps of felled trees were still new. The ground was strewn with rocks, but a space had been cleared. A makeshift landing pad, she reasoned. The helicopter itself had probably been taken underground by some means. Like Kurt and her husband.

  “It is,” said Wolverine. “It’s thick with the stench of Hellfire Club goon. I’ve got McCoy’s scent too. A few hours old.” He crouched down and snuffled his way across the clearing, like a sniffer dog. Phoenix wasn’t surprised when the trail led him to the area’s most notable landmark: a freestanding spire of rock, about four feet tall, surrounded by smaller stones at its base. “It ends here,” said Wolverine. “Looks like we’ve got our way in.”

  He sniffed at the spire, and then-seemingly satisfied that there was no danger—took hold of it and pulled. And pushed. And twisted. Nothing happened.

  “I guess they’ve locked the secret door behind them,” said Iceman.

  “I’ll take a look,” offered Storm. Wolverine stepped back, deferring to her experience. As a poor child living on the streets of Cairo, before her mutant gene had manifested itself, Ororo Munroe had been forced to steal to survive. Amongst the skills she had had to learn during that time was an expertise in defeating all kinds of locks.

  It took Storm mere seconds to uncover a small hatch set into the spire. She pried it open to reveal a recess filled with circuitry and wiring. “It is activated by an ultrasonic signal,” she reported. “However, I believe I can disengage it.” She reached for the set of picks that she kept in her belt, and lowered one carefully towards the electronic lock.

  The other X-Men withdrew, so as not to distract her from her delicate task. Phoenix cast an eye around the clearing, and reassured herself that no further threat was about to make itself evident. She had every confidence in Storm’s abilities.

  But then something unexpected happened.

  Black bolts of electricity exploded from the spire. Storm cried out in surprise and pain, her body arcing backwards as it was flung away. More bolts flew out, apparently at random. Phoenix leapt for cover behind a tree, and a bolt just missed her. It crackled into the ground, and left behind a sizzling pool of mud.

  Rogue was hit. She winced and fell to her knees, but her tough skin spared her serious harm. Iceman wasn’t so lucky. With its shell of ice, his body was a natural conductor. He screamed as he was hurled back against a tree. He slid to the ground, but Phoenix was relieved to see that he was still conscious, albeit shaken.

  The stones at the base of the spire were moving. It took Phoenix a moment to realize that something was pushing them up from below. As the metal-framed structure revealed itself, she saw that it was an entranceway. She could see steps leading down behind it.

  And something was coming up those steps. Something big.

  Phoenix took stock of the situation. Storm was down; she had taken the brunt of the electrical attack. Iceman needed time to recover. Rogue was back on her feet. And Wolverine was already rushing headlong to meet the enemy.

  It was humanoid, mechanical, and about fifteen feet tall. It had to bend almost double to get through the entranceway, and that was when Wolverine hit it. His senses must have confirmed that it wasn’t a living being, for he sliced savagely at its chest with his claws. Outside of one of his berserker rages—and he had those more or less under control these days-he wouldn’t normally have attacked an unknown foe with such ferocity. A human being would certainly have been killed. But this adversary was barely scratched.

  Out in the open now, it drew itself up to its full height. It was a bulky, imposing figure. Its armor was tinted red around its head and torso, light blue around its limbs. Twin nodules protruded from each side of its head, resembling malformed ears, and a crude approximation of human features had been carved out of the blue metal of its face. The robot’s mouth was set into a thin, angry line, and its eyes were covered with black plates, which gave the ludicrous impression that it was wearing sunglasses. Nevertheless, combined with its unchanging expression, they served to emphasize its dispassionate, uncaring nature. Phoenix shuddered involuntarily. She hated robots.

  You couldn’t read their body language, couldn’t predict them, couldn’t reason with them. It was worse for her: with most people, even if she wasn’t actively reading their minds, she received a background buzz of psychic chatter, some confirmation that they were alive and thinking. With a robot, she felt nothing. Just a cold, empty void. And against a robotic adversary, her telepathic abilities were useless.

  She remembered where she had seen this particular model before. She was well aware of the Kree, of course-not least because of the X-Men’s connections to their sworn enemies, the Shi’ar. And Jean had always lived by the axiom that it paid to be prepared. She had learned all she could about the Kree’s incursions into the affairs of Earth. If certain government officials only knew how willing some Avengers were to open their restricted files to a band of mutant outlaws, they would have had conniptions.

  It’s a Kree Sentry, she telesent to the others. It has built-in weaponry. It’s fast and it’s strong, and it’s pretty near invulnerable.

  ‘Pretty near,’ Wolverine sent back, that’s what I like to hear, Red!

  He attacked the Sentry again, aiming for its arms and legs this time. They must have had less protection than the chest, as his claws left silver scratches. Still, it was hardly significant damage. And the Sentry was preparing to fight back. It raised its huge arms, bunched its fists and brought them down together. Wolverine leapt out of the path of a blow that made the earth shake, blasted dust into the air and almost knocked Phoenix over. She held onto a tree to steady herself, and struck back. Her enemy might have had no mind for her to attack, but she still had her telekinesis. She tried to reach inside its casing, to find wires and components to pull apart. A gentle force repulsed her, and she felt as if she were tiying to run through a mattress. The casing was shielded from mental attacks.

  Rogue took to the air and swooped past the Sentry, delivering a powerful punch to its face. Knowing how strong she was, Phoenix was dismayed to see that the automaton was unfazed. Indeed, it reacted quickly enough to take a vicious swipe at its flying opponent, almost hitting her. With her mind, Phoenix lifted the heaviest rock she could find, and hurled it at the Sentry’s head. It crumbled into fragments, but this too had no visible effect.

  Nevertheless, Wolverine took advantage of the twin distractions. He ducked and dived between the Sentry’s legs, never staying in the same place for more than a fraction of a second, getting blows in when and where he could. Phoenix held her breath as the Sentry lifted a giant foot and drove it down, and Wolverine only just rolled out of its way. For an instant, he was down and helpless, but Rogue saw the situation and flew right at the Sentry’s hooded eyes, making herself a more enticing target. “What’s wrong, sugar?” she taunted, as she struck another resounding blow. “Can’t find someone you
r own size to pick on?” The Sentry didn’t respond, even though Phoenix was sure that it should have had a voice.

  It swung at Rogue again, but Phoenix helped her out with a concentrated barrage of small rocks. She aimed for the plates over the robot’s eyes, hoping at best to knock out its optical sensors and at least to obstruct its vision temporarily. Emboldened by this, Rogue turned and launched herself on another attack run. But, as if it could sense her rather than just see her, the Sentry struck out with its fist and knocked her right out of the air. Rogue plummeted into the surrounding trees, and Phoenix couldn’t see where she had landed although she could sense from her thoughts that she was more stunned than hurt.

  There was a method, she realized, to Wolverine’s apparently random strikes. He was aiming the majority of his blows at the same spot, at the top of the Sentry’s right leg. And it was working. He was beginning to cut into the metal.

  Iceman was on his feet, although he still looked unsteady. He brought his hands together to point at the Sentiy, and unleashed a stream of ice that coalesced into a solid lump around its head. It would have been an effective strategy against a human target. But the Sentry didn’t need to breathe, and the ice didn’t bother it at all. It focussed its attention upon Wolverine, and its chest-plate opened outwards to reveal the huge, round muzzle of what could only have been a weapon. Wolverine hadn’t seen it—it was some way above his head-but Phoenix’s telepathic warning alerted him in time. With no more than a quick glance upwards, he ducked and sprang aside as the muzzle pivoted down towards him. But it had a wider field than he had anticipated. The air itself seemed to explode, and Wolverine was caught by the edge of the ferocious blast and knocked sideways. Only then did the Sentry reach up with both hands and, with an almost casual squeeze, shatter the ice in which its head was encased.

  In the meantime, Iceman had aimed a jet of snow into the muzzle of its weapon, effectively blocking it. He poured layer after layer of ice on top of it, before the Sentry had time to close its chest-plate. Then he gave a startled cry as the robot thundered towards him, with a speed that belied its size. He tried to jump out of its way, but he must still have been dazed from the black electricity, and he wasn’t fast enough. The Sentry floored him with a single swipe from its great fist, and Phoenix knew he was out for the count.

  It turned towards her, then: the only X-Man left standing'. She ran first one way and then the other, but it bore down upon her unerringly.

  Then Rogue shot out of the trees, like a bullet from a gun, and hit the Sentiy from behind just as Wolverine charged it from the side. Both heroes had obviously gotten their second winds. They grappled with the robot, long hours of training allowing them to coordinate their attacks without having to exchange words. Phoenix felt a thrill of elation as they threw it off-balance and it toppled backwards, falling with an almighty thud that made the ground tremble again and dislodged leaves from the branches above her head.

  But the danger wasn’t over yet. The Sentry activated its weapon again. A deep groan emanated from its inner workings, and Phoenix allowed herself to hope that Iceman’s blockage would do its job; that the weapon would backfire.

  Instead, icy shards erupted from the Sentry’s chest. They couldn’t penetrate Rogue’s hide, but they cut thin lines across the exposed parts of Wolverine’s face and arms. It was nothing his mutant healing factor couldn’t handle, but he was momentarily beaten back. Rogue aimed blow after blow at the Sentiy’s head, but it shrugged off the onslaught. It was already climbing back to its feet, and its right hand shot out, enormous fingers circling Rogue’s midriff. She struggled to break free, but to no avail. The Sentiy squeezed her, tighter and tighter, until Phoenix felt her mind surrendering at last.

  By this time, the automaton was fully upright again, and Wolverine had renewed his assault, aiming for the same spot as before, on its right leg. His claws struck blue sparks from the metal, and finally penetrated the casing: just a small hole, but it was enough. It was the opportunity that Phoenix had been waiting for: a gap in the psi-resistant armor.

  She entered the gap with her mind, and sent a tendril of psychic force snaking up the Sentiy’s leg and into its abdomen. She pressed on upwards, feeling her way around its inner workings, but its brain-box was a long way up, and the further she ventured inside the shielded casing, the more extreme was the effort required.

  In the meantime, with a casual flick of its wrist, the Sentry had tossed the unconscious Rogue aside. Unaware of Phoenix’s actions, it had logically shifted the whole of its attention to Wolverine, its most persistent foe. This time, he was ready when it used its chest weapon-he somersaulted out of its way, but he was back before the echoes of the blast had died down—but even he couldn’t stay out of the reach of those powerful fists for much longer.

  Phoenix had reached the Sentry’s chest cavity. She might have been able to deactivate its weapon, but that would have alerted it to her telekinetic presence. It was best, she thought, to trust Wolverine to keep it occupied, for just a minute more. She struck out for the throat, but her head was beginning to ache now. Sweat dripped into her eyes, and she sagged to her knees and pressed her hands to her temples, trying to block out the pain even though it was inside her. If her concentration wavered now, all would be lost.

  If she could just... push ... a little bit... further...

  But then, the moment that Phoenix had been dreading arrived at last. The Sentry caught Wolverine a glancing blow, and he fell. He lay, stunned, on his back, still conscious but in no position to defend himself. The Sentry stood astride him, and the muzzle of its weapon pivoted downwards again. Phoenix was sure he couldn’t survive a blast from that range.

  She had to act now.

  She gritted her teeth, and drove the psychic tendril up into the Sentry’s brain, despite the shrieking protestations of her own. Blinded, gasping for air, she fumbled for something, anything, to pull apart, to twist, to rend, to damage in any way she could. Something gave, but she didn’t know what. She felt as if she were passing jolt after jolt of electrical current through her brain. She let go, screaming, and sprawled face-first into the mud, no longer able to control her muscles, to even raise her head.

  She passed out, not knowing if she had done any good.

  At first, Tessa didn’t know what was happening. The Sentry put its hands to its head, in an almost human gesture of anguish. Then, with no more warning than that, it collapsed. Even Wolverine was hard-pressed to get out of its way before he was crushed beneath its weight.

  The X-Men had destroyed the Hellfire Club’s greatest weapon, and Tessa wasn’t even sure how they had done it. She felt a pang of consternation, but she reassured herself that there was no cause for alarm. The robot had defeated Storm, Iceman and Rogue-and Phoenix, she now saw, was also down. That left just one. And, of course, she had taken precautions against even such an unlikely event as this. Tessa never left anything to chance.

  She watched on her monitors as six Hellfire Club agents rushed out of the base. They dropped to their knees, brought their machine guns up to their shoulders and strafed the clearing at chest height. Wolverine, naturally, was already back on his feet, avoiding the bullets with superhuman speed and dexterity, and taking the fight to his attackers. The first agent fell, with triple claw marks across his chest. Tessa wasn’t concerned. The outcome of the battle was a foregone conclusion. She had staged it only to provide a short delay.

  She abandoned her post at the Kree computer and walked confidently, unhurriedly, down the stark, gray corridors that led to the base’s main entranceway. By the time she had climbed the steps to the surface, her agents were all down—she had expected no less—and Wolverine was crouched by Phoenix’s side, trying to coax her awake. His costume was torn, and rivulets of blood stained his face from wounds that had already healed. He smelt Tessa coming and looked up at her with a scowl on his face and murder in his eyes.

  She reached into his mind as he came at her, claws extended. He had been trained we
ll. His psychic blocks were better than any she had ever encountered in a non-telepath. But he was tired and hurt, and it was a simple matter for Tessa to turn his brain off.

  She allowed herself a smile of quiet satisfaction as the last X-Man fell at her feet.

  CYCLOPS WOKE, his limbs feeling heavy and his head feeling light, and the first thing he realized was that he couldn’t sense Jean’s presence in his mind any more.

  He denied himself a small pang of fear, and concentrated on getting to his feet, on forcing his tired eyes to open so he could see where he was and take appropriate action.

  He felt embarrassed at having been felled so easily. He was worried about the other X-Men.

  He felt alone without her.

  The room in which he found himself was red. Very red indeed. At first, he assumed his vision was still blurry, that he wasn’t focussing past his visor. Cyclops was used to seeing the world through a scarlet haze. But no, it was different this time.

  He took a few steps forward, reached out and touched a wall that felt like multi-faceted glass. Red, multi-faceted glass. He turned around, hoping to find something, anything, to suggest that what he feared wasn’t true. But the redness surrounded him.

  He cut loose with his eye-beams, but he wasn’t surprised when the walls simply swallowed them, as darkness swallows light. The walls themselves were translucent, but opaque enough to deny him a glimpse of what might lie beyond them. He stared at a thousand images of his own worried expression, reflected to infinity and all washed in red. He wondered how much a prison like this would cost, and then remembered who he was dealing with: the owner of Shaw Industries, Black King of the Hellfire Club and one of the richest men in the world. One of the few men who could afford to manufacture a giant ruby quartz crystal.