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[X-Writers] X-Saviours #2

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LEONE ATCHISON

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Mar 5, 1998, 3:00:00 AM3/5/98

X-Writers Web Site: http://coyote.accessnv.com/lia

--- -- ---- -- ---- -- ---- -- ----
X-Saviours
Issue 2 of 8
---- -- ---- -- ---- -- ---- -- ----
The Body Politic.
---- -- ---- -- ---- -- ---- -- ----
Written by Andrew Wheeler.
-- ---- --

A slim, sterile needle; a phial of translucent solution; a
cotton swab dowsed in shallow liquid. She rolled back her sleeve,
rubbed the swab over her upper arm, then stuck the needle into her
vein.

"Moira?" called a voice from somewhere down the corridor.

She removed the needle, dropped it into the sterile disposal
unit, and rolled down her sleeve.

"Moira!" said Hank, opening the door. "Dr Richards is here with
Crystal and Luna."

"I'm on my way," she said.

-- ---- --

"Nancy," he whispered.

The young doctor, a tall, beautiful woman with bushy brown
hair, came quickly to his bedside. "I'm here Jonathan," she assured
him. "What's wrong? Is there something you need?"

"Get out, Nancy," he told her. "I'm dying. You have to leave
now, or you'll die too. They'll all die."

She checked the monitors to see if there was anything wrong.
"You're perfectly stable, Jonathan," claimed Nancy. "You're just tired.
You look absolutely fine. A little sleepy, but fine."

Jonathan Chambers smiled. "No, Nancy, you don't understand.
I've lost control."

Nancy shook her head and frowned. "Get some sleep, Jonathan.
We'll check your dosages after you've had some sleep." She left his
bedroom and shut the door.

"Nancy," he whispered again. "You must listen to me Nancy."

-- ---- --

"Listen to yourself!" complained Antonia Anjou, President of
Genosha. "You're being a complete bloody fool!"

"All I said is that I need more time to think about it,"
replied Michael Craner, trying to relax in the President's
sophisticated marble and black leather office without subsiding into
his chair.

"You've already had a week," sighed Anjou, resisting the urge
to cut through all the trials and tribulations of governing the most
screwed up nation on earth by throwing herself through the plate
glass window. "I'm offering you the position of Genegineer; the
opportunity to play an active role in the rejuvenation of Genosha; to
do everything in your power to heal us. After seven whole days all you
can say is that you need more time?"

"There was the matter of a terrorist bomb in the city centre
which slightly threw off my thought processes," explained Craner.

"If acts of extreme violence upset your ability to think,
Dr Craner, I fear we might never get an answer out of you," claimed
Anjou, turning away from the window to face her guest. "This is
Genosha. We have acts of extreme violence every other day."

"It's not an easy decision to make," claimed Craner
defensively. "If I accept, I'll be spending more time in an office
and less with the people I want to help. Besides, Renee has more
experience of politics than I do..."

"The Bipartisan Rebel Battalion is hardly politics."

"... and besides, the position has too sour a history."

"Twenty years of it. The same twenty years that have
destroyed Genosha." Anjou took her seat and looked squarely into
the doctor's face. "Dr Craner, allow me to give you a brief history
lesson of out troubled island. I'm sure you're familiar with it
all already, but perhaps a reminder will help encourage your
thought processes. Genosha was founded by the French. They conveniently
ignored the prior claim that might have been made by the African peoples
already living here. In time, the French lost it to the English, who made
us part of their Commonwealth. We achieved Dominion status during the
Great War, then broke away soon after to become more independent. We
were moderately successful. Then the Sugarman came along and made a
deal with Dr David Moreau, and that changed everything. We became a
paradise, built on the backs of the artificially high mutant population.

"It was the X-Men who first exposed our slave regime, and it
was on their first visit that they destroyed the citadel. When they
were dragged back to stand trial for supposed war crimes, alongside
the New Mutants and X-Factor, they finally succeeded in bringing down
the government itself, not to mention the citadel for a second time.
The third time an X-team visited, it was X-Factor again, though a
different incarnation led by one of our own former Magistrates - the
same man who destroyed our citadel the first time. Since we had
wisely chosen not to rebuild it again, this time the best he could
manage was to tear up my garden. He would have done more if I hadn't
explained to him that we were only suspening our research into
reversing genemod because we now had the problem of Legacy to worry
about. Had he discovered the truth about Dr Ryan there and then, I fear
Government House would not be standing today.

"Then there was the coup. Fabian Cortez seized the Presidency,
and I was reported dead alongside my entire cabinet. The X-Men and
Avengers came to the rescue and uncovered the inhumane conditions of
the Legacy Mutate Detention Centres, something which Dr Ryan
professed to tell me she knew nothing about, but I know that someone
authorised the existence of those death camps, and it certainly
wasn't me. Then Excalibur visited to try and help us with our
civil unrest, and to attempt to piece together the lost economic
history of the nation pre-Moreau. All they found was the Pizer
bullet; yet another sign that there remains some corruption in
the coalition government. Finally Ryan's treachery was revealed by
the X-Men on their most recent visit, and this Sugarman creature
was finally flushed out. In these last two months we've been
looking through all our personnel files and all Sugarman's computer
records trying to weed out all the bad seeds we can find. After
twenty years of bad history, we finally hope to build a better future.
All I ask of you, Dr Craner, is that you become a part of that future."

[See appendix for the complete rundown in President Anjou's
history lesson. - AW]

"Madame President, I lived through the last twenty years,
I know them as well as anyone. I'm also very pleased that we seem
to be moving past all that. It still doesn't mean that I'm the
best man for the job of Genegineer. If anything it proves that we
should be especially wary as to who exactly does get the job."

"Which is why I want you to do it!" claimed Anjou.
"If I am to set Genosha straight then I need to be surrounded by
people I can trust. It's the only way to eradicate the corruption."

"You could trust Dr Majcomb."

"Will you stop mentioning Renee Majcomb? The old money
conservatives most definitely will not allow a radical like her
to take the position. She's not an option. There are only two
possible candidates for this position, and I want to give you first
refusal."

"Who's the other candidate?"

"Dr Daniel Hamnett. He was recommended by Finance Committee
as a less flamboyant alternative."

"They think I'm flamboyant?"

"They think you'll spend money. We're in a severe economic
crisis, Dr Craner, and Finance want a Genegineer who is not
willing to do anything. They don't care how many mutates die, so
long as we stay afloat. Hamnett also has the support of the
Vice President, Home Affairs, the Justice bureau - basically most of
the Conservative side of the coalition."

"And whose support can I depend upon?" asked Michael.

"Mutate Affairs, Foreign Affairs, the Magistracy. Me. The
other half of the coalition. You're the Democrat candidate."

"Remind me again, aren't Finance Committee the ones who
sold the Warlock specimen to the highest bidder?"

"I didn't think anyone knew about that. Even I didn't know
about that until recently. Finance tell me that the people
responsible have been dealt with. Certainly the people nominated
as scapegoats have been dealt with. You see what I'm up against
here?" she asked.

"Yes," said Craner. "And I promise you, I'll think about it."

-- ---- --

The man in the wheelchair had once been trusted with great
power. Nowadays he was rarely lucid. A box sat on his lap, and he
clung to it tightly. The woman pushing him through the streets
was beautiful, youthful, and utterly inhuman.

"Spare some change, miss?" asked an elderly mutate, sitting
in a cardboard box in front of a closed down department store. She
ignored him and pushed onwards. "Bloody racists," he complained.

"Too bloody right," claimed the woman. She reached her
apartment block and wheeled the chair into the elevator. In the
privacy of the four metal walls she leant forward and opened the
box. "Did you get anything?" she asked?

"I'll kill you, Dymphna, you sick little bitch," snapped
a voice from within the box.

"Do you enjoy pain, you ugly little bastard?" she snapped.
"Because if not, you'd better adjust your bloody tone and answer
my question."

"He's here," replied the box. "He, she, it, whatever it
is, it's here. I can't contact him yet, and I can't get an exact
fix, but it's just a matter of time. Now take me out of this
box you evil who..."

She slammed shut the lid.

"Idiot," she muttered. "You and the cripple may have started
all this, but I'll be the one who gets the glory."

-- ---- --

Through a window they could see Crystal Maximoff talking to
Dr Majcomb, with the child Luna sleeping between them.

"Do you think she'll last much longer?" asked Alice in the
other room.

"It isn't looking too positive," confirmed Reed Richards.
"We thought it best to bring her over here to where the think-tank
is. If she stands any chance at all, it's with you people."

"Luna has deteriorated so quickly," said Hank, handing
Moira a cup of coffee. She stood at the back of the room, involved
in her own thoughts. "I suppose it is to be expected, given her
youth and her confused genetic structure."

"It is precisely that structure that allowed her to be
infected in the first place," claimed Richards. "As you know, Hank,
Legacy attacks the X-factor present in all mutants. Variant three
has been able to infect ordinary humans, but all research seems
to indicate that these victims are not entirely normal. They all
have a strong undeveloped x-factor. Luna is the child of two
parahumans. Moira is the mother to a powerful mutant. That makes
both of them vulnerable." He turned to Moira. "Where I get confused
is in the disease actually activating the mutant potential in both
yourself and Luna. To date all other cases of variant three have done
no such thing. I have yet to even pinpoint a reason for your
mutation. I don't believe it should have happened at all."

Moira glanced up from her coffee in surprise. "What do you
mean?" she asked. "You have two living proofs that it can and does
happen. I can't say I understand it any better than you, but I don't
see how you can be dismissing it."

"Well, I'll supply you with copies of all my case notes,"
said Richards. "If it weren't for you, I would have said Luna's
mutations were entirely due to the effects of the Terrigan Mists. In
truth, Dr MacTaggart, you're the only anomaly here. Perhaps you
could permit me to review the notes on your own condition?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," whispered Alice
to Hank. He nudged her, and made the coffee slop out of her mug
and onto her shoes. "Haaank!" she complained.

"Uh... sure. No problem Dr Richards," replied Moira. "I'm
sure we can arrange something."

"I'm going to the ladies' to clean up my shoes," announced
Alice.

"I'll come with you," decided Moira suddenly. They both put
down their mugs and as one woman headed for the door together.

"Now why do women always go to the bathroom in pairs?" asked
Dr Richards.

"You're the world's greatest mind, you tell me," replied
Dr McCoy.

"There are some things even I was never meant to know," confessed
Reed. "I feel safer with bio-molecular physics."

"It's probably best," agreed Hank. "Though I tell you what's
especially strange; as far as I know, Alice and Moira don't even like
each other."

"The Nobel?"

"I think so."

"Hmm."

-- ---- --

Dr Craner sat in an empty office all alone. It was a spacious
office with large reinforced windows looking out over the gardens.
After his meeting with the President, a Magistrate had led him here
to wait until the car arrived to take him back to the hospital. It
seemed like a strange place to wait. He decided to sit in the only
chair available - the big one behind the desk. He spun around to look
at the gardens, then spun back to see an elder man in a smart grey
suit standing in the doorway.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Michael, getting to his feet quickly,
"Is this your office?"

"No Doctor, it's yours." said the man.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. Ivan Raleigh. We met once at
an equal rights fundraiser. My mother, Simone Raleigh, was a great
friend of your grandmother. My wife Martinique used to work on an
advisory board with your father." He stepped forward to shake Michael's
hand. "I'm so glad to have the chance to become reaquainted with you,
especially here. You see, this office used to belong to Sasha Ryan. It's
the Genegineer's office at Government House, and eventually I hope it
will become your office."

"Raleigh?" repeated Craner, rolling the name around in his
mind. "Oh! You're old money?"

"Part of the local aristocracy, as it were," said Raleigh.
"Much like the Moreau family or, indeed, the Craner family. Once
upon a time the old money families were the only politics in
Genosha. Even now, we are the lifeblood. Our overseas investments
are all that keeps the wolf from the door."

"I don't consider myself old money, Mr Raleigh. I've poured
my entire inheritance into keeping St Saviours open. I've spent my
way out of the old money."

"Nonsense, doctor," smiled Raleigh. "It's in the blood, you
see? You will always be one of us. That is why you must stand as
Genegineer."

Craner's brow furrowed. "I don't follow," he confessed.

Raleigh stepped around the desk and stood shoulder to
shoulder with the doctor at the window. "The families have controlled
Genosha ever since colonial days, Dr Craner. Sadly, if finance has
it's way, all that will change. You see, the Finance Committee wants
to squeeze us out of government. We are the establishment, and they
have decided that as such, we are the perfect scapegoats for all of
Genosha's problems. Anyone with any sense knows that Finance has always
been the root of all evil on this island. We intend to prove that the
families are, as ever, the solution."

"Mr Raleigh, I have no intention of becoming Genegineer just
so I can join some old boys network."

"So you _are_ accepting the post?"

"I didn't say that."

"Doctor, if you do not become Genegineer then Hamnett will,
and that will mean more power to those bastards in Finance. They
are the ones who have destroyed this great nation, and they will
continue down the same path if we do not prevent them."

"You know, I was under the impression that you were all
the same lot," claimed Craner. "Finance is run by the Conservatives,
and the families are for the most part Conservatives as well."

"Believe it or not, doctor, not all of us in the party are
wicked people. Some of us are adamant supporters of the mutant
cause. The word Conservative implies conservation. That thing which
we, the old guard, wish to conserve is _not_ the status quo, but
the nation itself."

"But you want to conserve *your* status quo," argued Craner.

"But of course," nodded Raleigh. "We would be fools not to.
Still, it remains very much your own decision. Either you accept,
and find yourself the saviour of the nation and the toast of
every dinner party from Wellington Lane to Hower Field, or you
decline, and hand over the fate of Genosha's underclass to the
soulless vampires at the treasury." Raleigh smiled, inclined
his head forward in a conspiratorial manner, and hit Craner with
a stare designed to be friendly - but in an intimidating way. Craner
tried to match his stare, but failed, and quickly returned his
gaze to the window. "Whatever you decide will be fine," said Raleigh.

"Sure," muttered Craner. "Let me think about it."

-- ---- --

Alice waved her shoe under the hand dryer and it roared
automatically into life. "Why not use a tissue?" suggested Moira
as she washed her hands.

"I'm drying the laces," explained Alice.

All was silent but for the sound of hot air.

"So... um... how are you bearing up?"

Moira turned off the tap and looked up at Alice in the
mirror. "I'll be fine," she said. "I mean, I'm no worse than
yesterday, but I don't suppose I'll be any better tomorrow."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Alice, moving aside to let
Moira have the hand dryer, and trying to slip on her shoes.

"Thanks," said Moira. "And I'm sorry too."

"For what?" asked Alice.

"Oh... you know. The whole thing with that Nobel prize."

"Oh that," said Alice. "I'd forgotten all about that." She
smiled, and Moira smiled back. Then she laughed, and Moira laughed.
"Actually, I still have a barely resistible urge to throttle you,
but that would be unladylike," said Alice.

"An' I'm the one with superhuman powers," added Moira.

"Well yes, there's that too."

Moira's hands were dry, but she started to wring them like
a wet flannel. "Bloody things," she cursed. "I never wanted to have
powers."

"It's hardly your fault," said Alice. "Still, we really
ought to investigate where they came from, considering what Dr
Richards had to say."

"Actually, I think I know where they came from," said
Moira. "And if I'm right, then it _is_ my fault."

"What do you mean?"

Moira was hesitant. "Well... y'see, when my son Kevin died,
I kept his body preserved. I was thinking maybe I could clone him
and give him a second chance at life, but without the pain and
suffering. I could extract those parts of him that had made him
into Proteus. In the end I decided against it, but believe me, it
wasn't an easy choice.

"Then when I found out I was going to die, I started to
wonder if I could ever have another chance at a life without pain
and suffering for myself. I went back to Kevin, and I went ahead
and extracted the Proteus code from his body. I managed use it as
the basis for creating an experimental treatment. I thought I could
use the regenerated cells to mutate my own DNA strands, and maybe
increase my resistance to the disease. I've been injecting myself
ever since, and it's only today I've realised that this is where
my powers came from." Tears began to form in her eyes. "I've been
such a bloody fool."

"Wait, are you telling me you're a... a self made mutant?"
asked Alice.

"I guess I am at that. And now as a result of my unethical
behaviour, all our research might have been corrupted. My own
progress with the disease will have reflected on all the other
records. Christ, I'm only human, I had to do something. I guess in
the end I'm just a quack."

Alice put her arms around Moira. "Come on Moira, you're a
great doctor. You're one of the best. Using yourself for
experimental treatment was a brave thing to do. You just should
have told us about it from the start."

"I feel like a grave robber," said Moira.

"Moira, believe me, there are people out there who have done
much worse than you, and we've all screwed up in our time. Remind
me to introduce you to my ex-husband some day."

"Oh?" sniffed Moira. "Is he your darkest secret? Come on
now; I showed you mine, so you show me yours."

Alice laughed. "Well, maybe tomorrow. Now, dry your eyes
up and let's go out there and cure Legacy. You realise we're looking
at a Nobel prize for this?"

"One each," said Moira.

"And we won't tell the others," giggled Alice.

-- ---- --

No-one had called him to tell him if a car had arrived, so
Michael had ventured out of the empty office towards the foyer of
Government House - the area just beyond reception, where ministers
colluded on antique couches in dim alcoves, drinking at the
private members bar beneath an anachronistic portrait of King
George V. Michael stood in the centre of the floor mosaic looking
lost and confused.

"Can I help you at all, Dr Craner?" asked another
handsomely dressed silver haired gentleman, this one looking a little
less manicured than Raleigh, and a lot more vampiric.

"Aren't you... aren't you Pierre Vimeraux?" asked Craner
nervously. "Aren't you the minister for..."

"Finance," interrupted Vimeraux. "Delighted to meet you at
last Dr Craner," he said with a threatening flash of teeth that
was as close as he came to a smile. "You are everything I hoped
you would be."

"Hoped? I don't understand..."

"Precisely. You stand here at the pulsating heart of our
beautiful nation surrounded by all it's most powerful men, and you
look like a lost child in a department store. You are as politically
naive as my sources had informed me. Possibly more so."

"I'm not an idiot," scowled Michael.

"Then where are you going?"

Michael opened his mouth to answer, but realised he didn't
have one.

"Precisely," sneered Vimeraux. "Oh, I so look forward to
you accepting your post as Genegineer. It will be such a wonderful
boost for the treasury."

"Oh come on! You won't get me believing that *you* support
my nomination as well. You've put up your own candidate," said
Craner.

"That was the idea of Committee," said Vimeraux. "A fine
idea too. If Hamnett takes the job, then we win. If you take the
job, we still win. One way we get a puppet Genegineer, and the other
way we get a political inept, and the debt of the President. You
see doctor, we have every possibility covered."

Once again Craner found he couldn't match his opponent's
stare. Instead he looked down at the mosaic beneath his feet, and
it began to occur to him that if he couldn't even look these
people in the eye, there was no way he could ever stand up to them
in parliament.

"The ball is in your court doctor" hissed Vimeraux. "I am
intrigued to know what you intend to do about it."

Craner looked up sharply. "I'll think about it," he said.

-- ---- --

They were all screaming, or crying or shaking; all dying.
These poor Legacy infected mutants were all hitting freefall. The
air buzzed around them with a medley of unleashed energies; pulsing
heat, pounding kinesis, the painful throb of a telepathic hum.

"Josef, what the hell is happening?" asked Nancy, standing
horrified in the doorway. Dr Josef Kleinbaumm, eminent virologist,
stood on the other side of the room cut off by the frenzy and
terrified as hell. Moments ago it had all been fine as he had passed
through the ward checking up on all of these, the furthest gone of
the Legacy mutants on Empyrean island. Then suddenly something had
happened. All their heart rates had dropped at once, and together
they had begun to die, their powers unleashing themselves
uncontrollably. Josef's head was tearing apart, he was soaked with
his own sweat, and his very skin itched and burned as he came under
assault from various mutant abilities. He was an old man, bent
backed and weak, but he knew he had to make the effort to
escape. He hobbled along the centre aisle, tearful and whispering
a prayer. Nancy was too terrified to come in to the room and help
him.

"I don't understand it, Nancy," Josef called out. "They
all weakened together. Listen to those screams. They are more
afraid than in pain. What is happening to them?"

"Help me," shouted one mutant from his bed, his skin
turning white and dry as if he was calcifying. "I came here so
that you could help me. Why won't you help me?"

Josef paused for a moment to look at the poor man and
wondered if there was indeed something he could do. Suddenly
a stray dart of concussive energy shot through the air from one
of the other beds and smashed through the back of Josef's head,
shattering his skull.

"JOSEF!" screamed Nancy. She looked around the room to see
if it was safe to come in and attend to him, or see if he was dead.
She noticed one girl in the corner of the room was glowing
mysteriously. Nancy knew the girl. Her powers made her a living
energy battery. It looked this time as if she was not going to
stay alive. Nancy ran clear down the corridor and dived to the
ground as an explosion of solar flame consumed the room, roasting
everyone in it.

-- ---- --

Michael sat on the steps of Government House watching for
anything resembling a courtesy car. His own car was less than
roadworthy thanks to the Stamford Circle bomb. If the courtesy car
didn't turn up soon he decided he'd catch a cab instead. Just as
he reached this decision, a car stopped in front of him to raise
his hopes. They were dashed again as Chief Magistrate Anderson
emerged, flanked by three Magistrate bodyguards in dark suits.

"Ah," she said with a smile. "Our new Genegineer."

"Don't bet on it," argued Michael.

"No? That is a shame. We need a few more humanitarians in the
Government."

"I would have thought that was the last thing you wanted,"
replied Michael. "I mean, you're the one responsible for the
Magistrate clamp down, and you're hardly an open and approachable
figure."

"Dr Craner, mine is the second hardest job in Genosha,"
she explained. "It is up to me to try and create some small scrap
of peace from the near-tribal warfare on our streets, and if that
means heavy policing, then that is the price we pay. I'm a great
believer in civil liberty, but it's not something that should be
abused. As for my accountability, well, I'm not the most popular
woman in Genosha. I can't go out and meet the people; I need to keep
my distance from the assassin's gun, you see."

"Maybe you need better PR," suggested Craner. "We had an
excellent publicist at the St Saviours Clinic back in the old days.
Shot dead late last year."

"Then I shan't call upon his services," said Anderson. "But
still, you're quite right, I do need to present a better image of
myself to the public. Something other than the 'iron woman of Genosha'.
That is precisely why I'm supporting your nomination. You're not
a politician. The people will like you. Please don't disappoint me."

"I'll think about it," sighed Craner.

"I'm glad. Now if you'll excuse me, I had better move inside.
The snipers have had more than sufficient time to train their sights
on me." She headed on up the stairs. "By the way, what on earth are
you doing out here?" she asked.

"Waiting for my courtesy car," replied Craner.

"They've probably forgotten you. One of my Magistrates can
drive you back. Goodbye doctor. I hope to see you soon."

-- ---- --

Jenny Ransome arrived at X-Saviours on a battered old bicycle
just in time to witness the departure of a very different mode of
transport; the cross-continental jet being driven by Reed Richards
of the Fantastic Four.

"I see you've had guests," said Jenny to Hank.

"Dr Richards came to drop off Crystal Maximoff and her
daughter," explained Hank. "Nice bicycle Ms Ransome. I see you're
being loyal to Genosha's advanced technology."

"I enjoy cycling," replied Jenny. "Besides, no-one has yet
to be blown up by a bike-bomb, and no-one expects a member of the
Mutant Affairs Bureau to be riding a bike, so no-one ever pelts me
with tomatoes. Or worse."

"So why ride all the way up here to the hospital, Jen?"
asked Renee, whose eyes remained fixed on the thinning jet trail
in the sky.

"I'm a nurse by profession. I can't stay away," claimed Jen.
"I mean, I know I'm a politician now, and it fills up enough of my
time, and all of you people are so brilliant here, but still I feel
guilty if I can't help with my own two hands."

"Any help is always welcome," claimed Renee. "We're
perpetually understaffed as it is."

A window opened overhead and a voice called out; "Dr McCoy,
come quickly. There's a Dr Alter on the phone and she sounds like
she's distressed."

"Chambers!" gasped Hank. He wasted no time in leaping up
to the window and clambering in to get to the phone.

-- ---- --

Magistrate Tyburn drove Michael Craner most of the way to the
hospital in silence. He wasn't a cab driver, he wasn't expected to
make small talk, and anyway, Michael was too wrapped up in his own
thoughts, but all the same, Tyburn felt he had to speak up.

"Listen, I'm sure you don't want to hear my opinions..."

"It can't hurt," muttered Michael. "I've heard everyone
else's."

"I'm sure you have. That's politics for you. I should think
I can even guess what they all said."

"Oh, they had plenty to say," replied Michael. "They
just didn't all say the same thing."

"But what was the basic message from all of them?" asked
Tyburn.

"They all want me to be Genegineer," replied Michael.

"Yes, but why?"

Craner thought it through. "For themselves, I guess."

"Uh-huh. That's usually how it works. The thing that you've
got to do is remember what's right. What's right for you and what's
right for the country."

"They all had some very good points," claimed Michael.

"Yeah, but paired with selfish motives," added Tyburn.

"Right. So...?"

"So look at the motives," said Tyburn. "Look past what they
said, and look at why they said it. Then decide what to do."

Craner ran the four meetings through his mind again. One thing
they all seemed to agree on was that Michael wasn't a political person.
"Tell me," he said to the Magistrate, "Would you say I was a political
incompetent?"

Tyburn glanced up at him in the rear view mirror. "You say
that like it's a bad thing," he said. "As far as I'm concerned,
politicians are the last people who should be trusted with running
a country."

They reached the top of the hill where the hospital stood
and found Renee throwing bags of medical equipment to Hank, who
was stood in the doorway of the Moonlight Flit.

"Hey Renee, what's going on?" asked Tyburn as he got out
of the car, leaving Michael behind.

"Hi Tyburn. You carrying a weapon? We could probably use your
help," said Renee. "We've got an emergency."

"We're going to Florida," explained Hank.

"Florida?" puzzled Michael, joining them. "Why Florida?"

"Spur of the moment holiday making, Mikey. Don't ya just love
it?" said Alice, emerging from the hospital with one last heavy bag.

"There's a whole slew of Legacy mutants hitting critical
at the Chambers research centre. They need our help," claimed Hank.

"What about this place?" asked Michael.

"They'll get by without us for one day," claimed Renee. "Come
on, Michael, get in. This sounds pretty serious."

Without further hesitation, Craner and Tyburn followed the
others up into the Flit. Jenny Ransome was also along for the journey,
and Moira was assisting Hank at the controls.

"How long will it take us to get there?" asked Tyburn.

"In this wee machine? No more than two or three hours,"
claimed Moira. "She's a spry wee lass."

"Great," sighed Michael. "Plenty of time to think."

"Fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen," said Renee,
"It's going to be a bumpy ride."

-- ---- --

NEXT ISSUE:

Enter an island paradise torn apart by a terrible secret.

No, not Genosha. Guess again.

-- ---- --

APPENDIX:

Antonia Anjou's Genoshan history lesson recounts events from the
following comics:

X-WRITERS: Uncanny X-Men #331-3.

And that's yer lot.

-- ---- --

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