"Miss Cooper, Miss Cooper! Martha Powers, CNN. My producer has just informed me that an anonymous federal source claims that the terrorists are being led by Magneto ....."
Silence. For the length of time it took the entire room to draw a surprised breath, the press was silenced by the awesome dread the mere name evoked. Magneto.
Then all hell broke loose. Decorum flew out the window. Journalists shouted questions, jockeying for position. Some of them ignored her and began calling in on cellular phones. The worst part of it all was that Val didn't know the answer. Most of the other leaks had been accurate, which led her to believe this one probably was as well. And if it were ... God, she didn't even want to think about it.
Anti-mutant hysteria was bad enough as it is. Magneto attacking the U.S. government would bring it to epidemic proportions. And that was with a public who didn't know what Val Cooper knew, didn't know that the facility contained a fleet of Sentinels. She couldn't even begin to fathom what he might want with the damned robots, and she hoped she would never find out.
"I'm afraid that's all we have at the moment," she said, trying to retain her composure.
The Secret Service hustled her back into the private hall that ran the length of the White House, and Val knew she had to find Gyrich immediately. The word crisis had taken on an entirely new meaning.
• • •
"Can I get you anything, Professor?" a polite, neatly dressed young woman asked. "Soda? Juice? Water?"
"No thank you," Xavier responded, smiling kindly, and falsely.
Xavier could not have produced a genuine smile at that moment if the fate of the world hung in the balance. In some ways, he could not escape the ominous feeling that it did. He was filled with concern for all of the X-Men, both Cyclops's team on far-off Hala, and Storm's team in Colorado.
When he'd been unable to raised Storm or the Beast on their commlink, and Val Cooper had not returned his calls, Charles had turned on CNN to see whether the crisis had become public. Indeed it had. Rumors were flying about a standoff in Colorado between mutant terrorists and the U.S. Army. There was supposed to be a press conference within the hour, and CNN had already scheduled interviews with Senator Robert Kelly, whom Xavier knew to be notoriously mutaphobic, and with Graydon Creed, the leader of a radical anti-mutant group called the Friends of Humanity.
The question had been a simple one. Stay at the Xavier Institute and hope that he was able to contact the X-Men, or get to the CNN studio in Manhattan as quickly as possible for some damage control. No contest, really. The X-Men knew how to take care of themselves. He could hardly hope to help them in the field. But as Professor Charles Xavier, world-renowned expert on mutants and mutant affairs, he could try to curtail Kelly's fear and Creed's anti-mutant propaganda.
He'd already been in the studio, a makeup assistant dusting his head with powder so his bald pate wouldn't reflect the megawatt lights, when Val Cooper made her speech. When it was over, Xavier knew that coming down to Manhattan had been the wisest thing he could ever have done. Kelly and Creed were going to have a field day, and anti-mutant sentiment would become mania if someone did not take on the role of the voice of reason.
It was a role Charles had played before. Disturbingly, where he had often hoped he would never need to do so again, now he only prayed that, after today, there would be an opportunity to do so.
"Ignore the crew and the cameras, Professor," an assistant producer told him. "Just keep your eyes on the monitor and speak as if you were talking directly to the TV set, okay?"
Xavier nodded and studied the monitor. The host was a CNN political reporter he recognized but could not name. She was tall and thin, imperfectly attractive, and much too serious about her work to have gotten a job with any of the broadcast networks. Creed and Kelly were to her left. The three of them, in CNN's Washington studio, would have a monitor which showed Professor Xavier back in New York, while viewers at home would see Xavier in a split screen whenever the conversation turned to him. It paled beside the technology the X-Men had access to, but it was all the mainstream world could handle for the moment.
"This is Annelise Dwyer for CNN," the host began. "In the wake of that White House press conference, and in light of what we heard and, perhaps more importantly, did not hear, CNN has gathered three of the nation's most outspoken figures on the mutant issue."
"To my immediate left, author of the Mutant Registration Act, Senator Robert Kelly," she said, and welcomed Kelly. Xavier could see that the man was anxious, likely unnerved by Val's press conference. The kind of fear that filled Senator Kelly's eyes could be very dangerous.
"To his left, one of America's most popular captains of industry, and author of the controversial new book, Being Human, Graydon Creed. Welcome, Mr. Creed."
"Thank you, Annelise," Creed replied, though the woman had clearly not meant for him to do so. "In a time of crisis such as this, when the world's attention is turned to the mutant problem here in the U.S., I feel it is my duty to stand up and issue a call to arms, to urge all Americans to make a stand, to protect their country from the vile plague that has befallen all of humanity."
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Creed," Dwyer said without conviction. "We'll get to that in a moment. Finally, my third guest, joining us live from our studio in New York City, is Professor Charles Xavier, world renowned expert on mutants and founder of the Xavier Institute. Thank you for being with us on such short notice, Professor."
"My pleasure, Annelise," Xavier said respectfully. "And, if Mr. Creed's words are any indication, I'm here to fulfill my duty to the people of the world as well."
"Really?" Dwyer asked, her eyebrows raised. "How so?"
"Mr. Creed is peerless in the field of business," Xavier said quickly, taking advantage of the opening he had succeeded in creating with his opening statement. "Yet that doesn't mean his political views, or his intolerant, bigoted opinions have any purpose but to drive the public into a frenzy with misinformation and hate-language."
"Now, Professor," Senator Kelly said swiftly, "don't you think you're carrying this a bit far? Your views on this subject are well known, but you cannot deny that, if it is indeed Magneto leading this band of terrorist mutant rabble—and for that matter, whoever it is—such a direct strike at the federal government could signal a wave of mutant-generated terrorist activity toward the government, and the American public?"
Before Xavier could respond, or Dwyer interject, Creed jumped in.
"Your suspicions are leaning in the right direction, Senator, and your fears certainly well founded," Creed began, emphasizing the words suspicions and fears. "Unfortunately, you are too naive to see the big picture. This is a government project so secret that, even now, with it under attack and possibly already in the hands of mutant terrorists, the President still won't tell us what it is.
"Don't you see what that means?" Creed asked, playing to the camera now, ignoring the other guests. "That means that the muties have people already inside the government, infiltrating and corrupting our country, stealing our secrets. Not to sell them, no sir. As we're seeing at this very moment, they are going to use our technology, our tried and true American know-how against us!
"This nation will be lucky if it isn't already too late to rise up and save ourselves from this insidious menace!" Creed said, feigning despair. "And if Magneto is truly behind it all, if the most powerful, most evil enemy the world has ever faced has come back to wage mutant war on mankind, well then ..."
Creed hung his head and let out a theatrical sigh.
"May God help us all," he said softly.
Xavier only wished he was stunned by Creed's performance, but he'd become all too familiar with the man's manipulation tactics over the past couple of years. The whole thing was ugly and getting uglier by the moment. If he was fortunate, and skilled, he might be able to at least balance the scales. It was too late to tip them in his favor, in favor of sanity.
"Mr. Creed, we are all familiar with your tirades," Xavi
er began. "Out of fear, you might bring people over to your way of thinking. Even now, the senator and much of our audience might be terrified into submission by your performance ..."
"I resent that ..." Kelly began to say, but Xavier would not relent.
"Sadly, historians are all too familiar with your kind of speechifying. We saw it in Berlin in the thirties, in the American South just before the Civil War, and in Washington every day from the mouths of lobbyists. Unfortunately, too often it succeeds. But I believe that people are basically good and decent. I believe that prejudice is a primal human reaction to fear, we hate what makes us afraid. Bigots are generally cowards, sir, but you are something else entirely. Fear creates prejudice, and that fear can be manipulated into great power. That is what we have seen from you here today.
"As far as your insinuations about the government being unsound are concerned, I should think, as a member of the U.S. Congress, that Senator Kelly would take offense," Xavier continued, on less solid footing but hoping this final gamble would payoff. "You may be able to tell the American people that they're too foolish not to see this enormous mutant conspiracy you claim exists, and not have them rebel against you because they just aren't that sure of themselves anymore. But I don't see how the senator can sit here and let you imply that the U.S. government is compiled of morons and imbeciles who wouldn't see such a threat if it actually existed."
Professor Xavier took a breath, but he didn't have to wait long. He'd played both Creed and Kelly expertly. Especially Kelly. The senator didn't believe in a conspiracy. He was merely frightened at the power mutants held and the thought that they might not be able to control it. That some might turn those powers against the government, as had already happened numerous times. Of course, the X-Men had been there to prevent things from getting out of control.
No, Kelly wasn't an evil man. Just scared. And Xavier had used that fear, as well as the senator's pride, to create what was quickly becoming a battle royale between him and Creed. Charles was not used to that kind of politics. He generally tried to be as diplomatic as he could, as genuine as he could, and still get his point across.
Difficult times called for difficult measures. Kelly had to defend the government, even though Creed hadn't really indicted the government directly. And after Xavier's words, he was forced to make a public stand against racism, sexism, ageism, homophobia, anti-Semitism and intolerance in general, and define his stance against mutants solely in relation to the danger of their abilities. He likened it to passing laws curtailing public smoking for the good of smokers and non-smokers alike.
In saying these things, Senator Kelly was effectively attacking Creed, who was forced to respond ardently. Argument ensued. The end result was that Creed's opinions had been soundly trounced by a well-respected government official who didn't completely disagree with him. Though Creed's message had gotten out, and many people would have taken it to heart due mainly to their already instilled terror of mutants, the general population would not collapse in a frenzy.
At least not yet.
When the camera and monitor were finally turned off, he looked up to see the makeup assistant who'd powdered his skull standing just beyond the harsh lights. The man offered him a huge smile along with a double thumps-up. Charles returned the smile. He felt dirty after engaging in such manipulation-that was the other side's way. But as the makeup man turned and walked off into the darkened studio, Xavier realized that he also felt proud.
His dream of harmony between mutants and humans had lost ground today, there was no question of that. But not nearly as much as it might have, had he not confronted Creed and Kelly.In a sense, he'd beaten Graydon Creed at his own game.
As he wheeled his chair down the hall toward the elevator, his anxiety over the safety of the X-Men began to return. Despite his fears, however, Charles Xavier felt good. Very, very good.
• • •
Magneto was terribly impatient with substandard technology. Compared to the near-sentient computer systems on Avalon, the operations of Wideawake and the entire Sentinel program were ancient. And, more importantly, interminably slow. It was ludicrous. All that power at their control, the ultimate weapon—the Sentinels—in their hands, and it was still necessary to wait minutes for the computers to process even the tiniest bit of new information.
But he was getting close.
Magneto glanced out the control center's window at the fleet of Sentinels. They were dark and silent, motionless in the silo. They gathered dust and attracted nests of spiders and whatever other insects and vermin might breed in the cold dark underground facility. But it would not be long until they roared through the blue American skies at Magneto's command. And America was just the beginning.
In the Sentinels, Operation: Wideawake had the most powerful non-explosive weapon ever created. They were sheathed in an armor made of nearly impenetrable alloy, and armed with an array of lasers, tasers, explosives, and crowd-control modes including smoke and tear gas. Their near-sentient minds were able to learn and adapt.
Originally, the Sentinels had been programmed with the identities and abilities of all known mutants. Should they ever be needed to fulfilltheir purpose, they would have enough knowledge to neutralize whatever mutants they happened upon—or so the covert pitch went. They were humanity's final option if the world's mutant tensions raged out of control.
How deliciously ironic, Magneto thought, that the ultimate anti-mutant weapon would now be used to implement an agenda that would have given the Sentinels' creator, Bolivar Trask, a heart attack. It almost made him wish Trask were still alive, just so Magneto could see the horror on the man's face. Almost. But in truth he was glad Trask was dead. At least a portion of the current anti-mutant hysteria was due to Trask's obsession.
If not for Trask, Xavier's dream might have had a chance of becoming reality. Paradoxically, if not for Trask, Magneto would not have the means of making his own Empire Agenda real. Aman who can leave thatkind of legacy behind is a dangerous man indeed. Yes, Magneto was glad Trask was dead.
The control center's door hissed open and Voght strode in.
"The X-Men have made short work of the military, as you predicted," she said, carefully avoiding calling him Lord the way the others did. It was prideful, yet endearing.
"Once they begin battering my magnetic force field in earnest, I won't be able to keep it intact and reprogram the Sentinels simultaneously," he replied. It was a truth he would never have admitted to any of the others. "Gather the Acolytes, Amelia, leaving only Milan behind to guard the prisoners. Go to the surface and, when the X-Men have breached the field, engage them. Drivethem off or capture them, one or the other. I will not sanction their termination just yet. It is still possible they may be of use to me in the future."
Voght raised her eyebrows but did not argue Magneto's decision. Beauty and wisdom were so rarely given to the same individual, he thought fleetingly. Amelia Voght was a formidable woman. She mumbled her acknowledgment of his orders and backed from the room. He could hear her swift footfalls in the hall, as she rushed to gather her comrades.
Magneto turned his attention back to the computer. He was almost through with the reprogramming, but the computers were taking far too long to process the new directives. With the work that Shaw had already done, it was only a matter of using the appropriate commands to force the Alpha Sentinel to rewrite its programming. The others would follow its lead, the same way that drones followed queens in the insect world.
The computer screen offered a new prompt, and Magneto entered the appropriate command. So close. For the first time in recent memory, Eric Magnus Lehnsherr was filled with an anxiety it took him half a minute to recognize as excitement. The means to fulfill his dream and destiny were about to be delivered into his hands.
Magneto knew he was arrogant, and that selfawareness was what prevented him from becoming psychotic. His arrogance was not a matter of dreams of self-importance or grandiosity, but a certainty that he was one of t
he most powerful beings on the planet. Creating the magnetic force field around the base had required concentration. Sustaining it, however, was effortless, nearly involuntary.
Until the X-Men attacked.
The sudden conflict caused a massive adrenaline rush, and every muscle in Magneto's body tensed. It was as if he'd been driving a car at high speeds and been forced to slam on the brakes to avoid an accident, without being certain that he could.
After the initial attack, which he held back easily, he relaxed again. He might have kept them out indefinitely were it not that he needed to concentrate on the Sentinels.
"Alpha Sentinel online," the computer told him, and slowly, Magneto smiled. Perhaps he could hold the X-Men off after all.
Ashe began to focus on his force field once more, he was startled to sense a sudden tear in the fabric of the field. He concentrated on the location of the hole, but as much energy as he poured into it, Magneto could not stop the breach.
Then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. And Magneto knew what it meant. The X-Men were on the grounds. Any moment, Voght would take the Acolytes out to greet them, and the battle would begin.
None of which mattered to Magneto in the slightest. For in the darkened silo, twenty pair of dead red eyes glowed brightly. Running lights popped into life on each of the Sentinels, and they began to power up. The hum of their generators filled the silo and the command center with a wall of vibratory sound.
"Preparing to accept password and sound sample for voice command mode," the computer voice said. "Please speak clearly. Announce password now."
"Empire," Magneto said. The password had simply been the latest "door" the first time. This was different. At the final stage, if the word or voice patterns didn't match, the Sentinels first order of business would have been to expediently destroy whomever was in the control center. Magneto listened as the computer cycled his voice through analysis after analysis, matching it to previous samples and locking onto his vocal patterns so there could be no mistaking his commands.
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