From: fuzzy@athena.mit.edu (Dark Fuzzy Rules OK!)
Subject: NEW MUTANTS: Kid Dynamo Chapter 11, Part 2 of 3
Followup-To: rec.arts.comics.xbooks
Summary: "Queen for a Day"
Keywords: X-Men, Magneto, Destruction of New York
Organization: Massachusetts Institute of Technology
Date: Wed, 29 Jul 1992 13:44:05 GMT

Kid Dynamo Chapter 11, Part 2 of 3
    "Queen for a Day"
    by Connie Hirsch

    He moaned.  I stopped him from thrashing about.  "You'll hurt
 yourself further if you move," I said.  "I'll fly you to an emergency
 room." The second thing they teach EMT's is to be reassuring to the
 patient; it can make the difference between life and death sometimes.  If a
 patient can be encouraged to fight, to hold on to life, that's half the
 battle.
    Blood was dripping from him at a furious pace.   I ran my seeker
 sense over him quickly -- no major blood vessels were cut save one in his
 left arm -- but hundreds of minor ones, more than I could hold.   He had no
 more than minutes of consciousness left before his blood pressure dropped
 too low.
    "Hurts," he gasped, an understatement under the circumstances.   His
 eyes moved side to side, focused on my face.
    "I'm taking you to a hospital," I said.
    "No -- don't bother," he said.   "I'm a goner."
    "No --" I started to say.   
    He took a deep, shuddering breath and gasped, a little thread of
 blood running out of the corner of his mouth.  "Don't kid yourself," War
 said.   "I just want to say -- thank you.   Funny -- for the first time in
 months, years -- I can think straight -- it's the pain, I guess."
    He gasped again.   "I took an injury in 'Nam -- ended up a
 quadriplegic, forgotten.   I was so angry -- hateful.   Then Apocalypse
 came -- repaired my body and corrupted my mind.  I was so fixed on avenging
 myself that I forgot the real ideals of the warrior -- protecting the weak;
 strong body; clean mind.   I forgot about 'arete' -- that's Greek for the
 warrior ideal, human perfectibility."
    "Ah-ree-tay," I said, trying out the strange sound.
    He sighed and his eyelids fluttered, but he rallied.   "Not much time
 now," he said.   "Soon it won't hurt at all, and that's okay by me.   I was
 living-dead too long in the hospital, would have jumped at the chance to
 die -- if I could have jumped, or moved at all."
    "_Please_ -- let me try to get you some help," I said.
    "Nah -- let it go," he said.  "Listen, quick --," he gasped, continued. 
 "You're probably thinking it's your fault.   It isn't.   You did the
 right thing, to try to protect all those people.   As long as you act with
 arete, you have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to regret.
    "Only wish I could have remembered sooner," he said, and smiled a
 vague smile, his eyes staring up towards the sky.
    "There's still time," I said, my heart not in it.   He didn't respond. 
 "War?" I said.  He was dead; heart stopped.   "Please," I said.
 "I'm so sorry."  There wasn't much blood left in him; even CPR was useless.
    There was a "click" beside me.   I turned to look; there was some
 geek with a camera.   A couple of the "innocent bystanders" I'd saved had
 crept out to see what was going on.   Nobody spoke; we observed a minute of
 silence for War's passing.   "I wonder what his real name was," I started
 to say.
    There was a faint crackling in the air and War's body disappeared in
 a flash of light.   _Illyana_?  I thought, but it didn't look like her
 teleport disk.   For all I knew, he'd just been disintegrated.   
    There was an astounded murmur from the crowd.   I "stood" up, my
 soles an inch above the blood soaked pavement.
    "Holy Shit," said the camera-geek in a reverent tone.   He then
 proceeded to put his camera up and snap a picture of me.
    "I beg your pardon," I said in frosty tones.
    "Hey -- no problem," he said, backing up a step.   "Kinda a
 whatchamacallit -- automatic reflex?  You just get in the habit."
    "I'd really prefer not to have my picture taken," I said.
    "No problemo," he said.   "Wouldn't want to get you mad, that's for
 sure.  What did he call you -- 'Arete'?  How do you spell that?"
    "I don't know," I said.  "Look it up in a Greek dictionary."
    "Good idea," he enthused.  "Greg Cox, stringer for the Daily Bugle"
 He held out a grubby hand, which I didn't take, and which he didn't seem to
 notice.
    "That's a newspaper?" I said.
    "One a' the best!" Cox said.  "You're new in town, right?  Are you a
 mutant?"
    I was beginning to understand Cox's pattern of questioning -- he'd
 ask some harmless thing, then switch to a provocative question in order to
 get me off guard.  But now that I had caught on I knew what to do.
    "That's a personal question isn't it?" I said.  Cox nodded eagerly.
  "However -- for the record -- I am a human being." I paused a beat.  "A
 human being with mutated genes.
    I realized I had unconsciously crossed my arms in front of me, posing
 like some noble statue.  I tried not to move self-consciously -- it would
 have spoiled the effect.
    "Uh-huh, uh-huh," Cox said.  "You part of any super-type team?"
    He opened his mouth, probably to prompt me with the names of several,
 but his mouth stayed open as a great shadow descended on the street, like
 some great cloud or eclipse had overtaken the sun.
    "Holy Mother a' God," he said, looking up.
    I looked up too.  Above our heads, way above most of the skyscrapers,
 was some great construct like an alien spaceship, so big it shut out the
 sun for blocks and blocks around us.  In fact, if the ship hadn't been generat
ing 
a soft glow, the street would have been quite dim.
    Murmurs and whispers in the crowd gathered around me -- "What is it?"
 "Are the aliens invading again?" "It's all those muties fault, I tell you!"
 and "The ship is moving, Mommy!"
    The last I agreed with.  Like some cloud passing by overhead, the
 great construct was moving above us.
    Abruptly, it speeded up, tipping toward one side, dipping down almost
 ballistically, to clip the corner off a skyscraper.  "Wonder who's
 driving?" I heard a man murmur near me.
    I was thinking the same thing.  The ship was probably connected with
 the Horsemen of Apocalypse; could the Fantastic Four or some other group be
 fighting aboard the ship?
    "Cripes," Cox said quietly next to me.  "I think it's going to hit
 the Empire State Building."
    "What?" I said.
    "Look -- the building's right down the street here," he said,
 pointing.  "The ship -- or whatever it is -- is climbing at that angle, but
 I don't think it's going to make it."
    Now that he'd pointed it out, I could see it.  I used my seeker sense
 to estimate heights and distance, and received a nasty surprise -- the
 construct had the same sort of anti-telekinesis field that War had had.
  But since I wasn't trying to grab it, I wasn't jolted as I had been.  The
 ship could have easily been a mile long; I hadn't been keen on trying to
 grab it and swerve it from its course, anyway.
    "You'd think some superteam would fly up and stop it, wouldn't you?"
 said Cox.  "If it knocks off the tower on top, I wouldn't want to be underneat
h," 
he added, pale beneath his freckles.
    _Nobody is going to the rescue_, I thought.  Maybe I could catch that
 tower if it was knocked down.  At least I could try.  "Wish me luck," I
 said, and soared off.
    "Good luck!" I heard him yell as I gained height.  There was a loud
 sound behind me and I looked back over my shoulder: the crowd I'd saved was
 _cheering_ me.  I didn't know whether I should be appalled, after all, I
 had just killed a man.
    I didn't have much time to dwell on it.  The Empire State Building
 stands head and shoulders above the surrounding skyscrapers.  The strange
 ship had climbed on a diagonal, but it wasn't nearly enough to clear the
 thin tower on the skyscraper that had been designed as a zeppelin mooring
 mast.  I was still climbing even as the corner of the ship struck the mast
 fair and square.  I'll give the original architects and engineers credit;
 the mast broke away cleanly -- all three hundred feet of it, with a noise
 like ten million trains crashing head-on.
    Something that big seems to fall slowly.  Really, it doesn't; it's
 just the scale, the amount of space it has to physically traverse that
 makes it seem slow.  _Can I catch it_?  I wondered, and realized I had no
 choice but to try.
    I anchored myself in midair as best I could.  Magneto had been
 coaching me to treat such action as a subroutine; an action that continues
 whatever the main "program" does.  I took a calming breath, just like in
 karate; draining all the tension, seeing the tower caught safely.  Then my
 seeker sense reached out to encompass the whole of the tower.
    It was touch and go for a moment.  The tower was so damned big -- but
 suddenly my sense of perspective switched itself around and I could hold
 the whole.  Eyes closed, I could _feel_ the structure, feel it keeling
 over, beginning its plunge.  Then -- and only then -- I gripped and lifted
 against the momentum, slowing the descent more and more.
    I would have had a comfortable margin of safety, but even as I began
 to exert myself, a strange telekinetic touch tried to grip the tower.  It
 was similar to the feeling I'd had when Magneto had crossed areas of
 influence with me during training, with one key difference: this wasn't my
 father.
    It was painful, like getting your arm twisted behind your back.
  "Stop it, I have it!" I cried out loud.  There were some long moments of
 confusion.  _Who are you_?  I thought.  _What are you doing in my head_?
  but it wasn't me alone thinking these thoughts.  Somehow the other woman (I
 just knew her gender and she knew mine and other information) was inside my
 head, thinking some of my thoughts for me.  _Let it go, I'll hold it_ she
 thought at me -- or at least I thought she thought it at me.
    I let the tower go, released all claim to it.  The tower descended a
 few feet and then held steady.  From the other side two flying costumed
 figures emerged and came to hang near me: a red-headed woman and a man all
 in blue with a high-tech metallic visor.
    "Well, knock me over with a feather," I said.
    The red-head smiled, tentatively.  "I think you were in my head," she
 said.  "I'm sorry -- I didn't realize you had the tower or I wouldn't have
 tried to take it -- Jessica?" Her tone made my name not quite a question.
  "We seem to have exchanged a little information -- I haven't gotten it all
 sorted yet."
    "It's okay -- Jean?" I said.  She was _Jean Grey_ or I was a monkey's
 uncle.  "You're not supposed to be _alive_," I said, shocked.
    "There was an -- impostor," she said.
    "Yes -- I see," I said, and in a curious way, I did; while all the
 details weren't clear, she hadn't any memory of the Phoenix identity; just
 waking up at the Fantastic Four and masquerading as ...  X-Factor???
    "Good Lord," I said, "_You've_ been posing as _mutant hunters_."
    "We were tricked," said the visored man whom Jean's memories and my
 own deductions identified as Scott Summers, Cyclops of the original X-Men. 
 I was vaguely aware of Jean's memories -- something about a PR man who had
 put them up to it and tried to drive Scott crazy in the bargain.  "Who are
 you, anyway?"
    "She's -- Jessica," Jean said.  "She wouldn't want us to know any
 more and we'll _respect_ that, Scott."  The lady might appear soft and
 feminine but she had a will of iron.
    "Thank you," I said to her quietly.
    "Anything for a fellow telekinetic," she said.  "I certainly didn't
 intend to invade the privacy of your thoughts uninvited.  If you weren't
 here to hold the mast, I'd be hard-pressed to keep it up."
    "But -- I'm not holding it," I said slowly.  "I thought you were."
    Jean looked at me, startled, then we both looked at the mast,
 floating behind us.  "What's holding it up?" I said.
    From below an all-too familiar baritone voice spoke up.  "Since you
 both relinquished your grip on the mast, I took the liberty," Magneto said
 rising toward us.  He looked at me with a credible, well-acted look of unfamil
iar 
concern.  "Young woman, does your family know you are risking your
 life up here?"
    I looked at him a long moment, thinking fast.  How much did Jean
 know?  How much was she going to keep private?  Would she take a cue from
 me?  Aloud I said, "They don't know.  But if they did know my reasons for
 being here, they'd understand."
    Magneto raised an eyebrow.  "Indeed," was all he said.
    He turned to look at Scott and Jean, and his eyes widened.  "Jean,"
 he said, genuinely surprised.  "You are _alive_.  I am glad."
    Jean just looked back at him.  "There was an impostor who took my
 place," she said.  "I do not remember anything since the shuttle crash in
 New York Harbor."
    "Six years," Magneto said.  "Then -- the masquerade was superb.  I
 never doubted -- her identity, and I mourned when I heard of your -- her
 death.  I have regretted my change of philosophy and methods came too late
 for us to meet as friends and allies."
    "Hold it just a minute there," Scott said.  "Who says we're doing
 that now?"
    Magneto regarded him coolly.  "I wasn't aware we were at odds," he
 said.
    "Magneto," Scott said, and in that single word-sound was at least ten
 years of antagonism.  "What do you think you are doing up here?"
    "Cyclops," Magneto replied smoothly.  "Preventing property damage.
  Unless you have some objection to that?"
    "No, of course we don't," Jean broke in with a glare for Scott.
  "Magneto -- the last time _I_ met you, we were at odds.  Yet, from what
 I've seen and learned," her eyes flicked over to me, "since then, I must
 reevaluate what I feel." She shook her head.  "Now is not a good time for
 this," she said.  "We have a city falling apart and an alien ship piloted
 by Apocalypse to contend with."
    I felt like telling her what a colossal understatement she'd made but
 I held my tongue.
    "What may I do to help?" Magneto said.
    Scott glared at Magneto.  You couldn't see his eyes of course, but
 the set of his head and the firmness of his jaw indicated what he was
 doing.  Jean opened her mouth to say something, and in that instant we
 heard a child's voice say clearly "Do you think Magneto's going to fight
 Cyclops?" and stop with a gasp.
    We all looked to the source of the voice -- on top of the mast
 Magneto held next to us.  The Master of Magnetism gestured and four
 costumed children rose from just behind the crest in a force bubble.  There
 were two boys and two girls, varying in age from about 5 to 12 years of
 age.  They weren't particularly happy about Magneto's treatment of them and
 said so.  The smaller boy was especially vehement.  "And we can _hold
 ourselves up_," he ended.
    "Who _are_ you?" Magneto said genuinely puzzled.
    "They're Power Pack -- they're friends of ours," said Scott.  "Let
 them go or you _are_ going to have a fight on your hands, I guarantee it."
    "Scott, I'm not here to fight you," said Magneto disdainfully.  "Or
 children."  With an impatient gesture, he dissolved the force field around
 them.  The older girl was able to go all cloudy, and the younger boy seemed
 to have some kind of anti-gravity power, for he held onto the other
 children and they floated along with him.
    "That's better, isn't it, _Scott_?" Jean said.  To Power Pack she
 added, "Starstreak, Counterweight, Molecula, Destroyer, you know you
 shouldn't be out here, it's dangerous."
    "But -- we _saved_ people," said the littlest one.  She had
 strawberry-blonde braids and I personally bet she would grow up to be a
 real heartbreaker -- supposing she lived that long.
    "How would your parents feel, little one," Magneto said, "were you to
 be hurt today?  Let us adults bear the risks."
    The little one looked grave and the older siblings looked thoughtful.
  Suddenly a cracked voice from below us cried out "So it's a goddamn hero
 convention, is it?" Another costumed figure on a flying mechanical steed,
 not dressed so differently from War was rapidly approaching.  "You won't
 feel so heroic when Pestilence gets through with you!" She raised a hand as
 if to throw something.
    "Watch out," Cyclops said in a low, quick voice, "she can give you a
 disease if she can get close enough."
    "She has one of those anti-psi fields," I started to say, but the
 older girl had already moved to counter her.
    She'd gone all cloudy, and now she condensed into a tiny form, crying
 "Beware the superdense form of Molecula, Mistress of Density!", landing
 with much force on Pestilence's shoulder and knocking her off her mount --
 80 floors above the street.
    "Oh no!" The littlest Power Packer cried and set off in a rainbow
 streaked path to intercept Pestilence's fall.  I reached with my TK but it
 was useless, she still had that field I couldn't touch.
    Just then there was the most godawful noise that seemed to come from
 _everywhere_.  I looked around wildly, so did everyone else, as a winged
 man with  a skull-face and metal feathers _cut_ the mast in practically
 half.  
    "Jean, get back, he's trying to kill us!" Scott cried.  Jean moved
 herself to the left, I moved to the right, Magneto dropped a few floors,
 dragging the remaining Power Pack members with him in a force bubble.
    It was well we moved as fast as we could, because the "Death" angel
 flew right through the space where we'd been.   If he had a field like Pestile
nce's, 
he could have cut right through our personal shields.  
    Speaking of cutting -- Magneto was no longer holding on to all of the
 mast.   He still had the greatest part, but "Death" had cut away a large
 section, which crumbled as it fell.  
    "Death's" anti-TK field must have affected Magneto; strain was
 evident on his face.   I reached for the debris -- and as I grasped it,
 Jean put her field of influence right over mine.  
    -- And then Magneto was grabbing the debris as well.   We were all
 tangled up and it was far more confusing than the first time Jean and I had
 tangled -- for Magneto dominated the configuration.   While Jean had the
 experience of sorting out minds -- and was trying to bring up her knowledge
 to the front of our consciousness; Magneto was assessing the situation.   I
 gasped as Magneto mentally looked right through me; his surprise at the
 intimacy of minds stripped bare to one another.  
    _How did I/Where did this/Invaded!  My mind_! we thought
 simultaneously, psyches jumbled together painfully.   _Calm_ the Jean
 entity seemed to say.   _I've/she's had experience sorting minds before.
   Lost_!  (I think it was me thinking that, but was it?)  _I can't find
 me_!  There was a rush of concern and compassion from Jean and Magneto
 towards me; I could feel how much he actually cared.   _Of course I care_
 he 'said' with a touch of reticence and surprise that I would still care.  
 _He thinks I will never get over blaming him for my mother's death_ I
 thought at Jean.   You're/I'm separating us, aren't you?   
    Yes, the answer came, or I answered myself.   But behind that thought
 came Magneto with a touch of urgency:  _We are falling -- something must be
 done_.
    This had all taken less than seconds; much of it was deeper than mere
 words can convey.   Magneto had begun by screaming psychically about the
 invasion of his most private thoughts and Jean had instinctually damped
 him; then his need for control had asserted itself and he'd taken command
 of the meld.   Now he turned our mutual thoughts to survival -- and I had a
 taste of the will power that had seen him survive the Holocaust.  _How did
 this happen_?  I/she/he/we thought in rapid succession.  _I/I/they did not
 feel this when our/their areas of influence crossed before.  It must be
 she/her/me/Jessica bridging the psychic gap.   I/I/I am losing control
 nonetheless; I/he/Magneto must withdraw from the contact so_ --   With a
 show of sheer psychic brawn, Magneto pulled/pushed himself out of the three
 way contact, leaving Jean and I gasping at the sheer _pain_ of his action.
    It wasn't merely unpleasant, it was difficult to untangle as well, as
 though our minds had been stuck together.   Bile boiled up in my throat and
 I could feel myself start to tumble as I lost control of my/our/her hovers.
   "Jean!" I heard Scott call.   "Jessica!"  Magneto cried almost at the
 same time.   Far below, I could hear the littlest Power Pack kid shriek as
 a huge chunk of the mast headed for her and her unconscious burden.   
    
    * * * 
    
    I didn't lose consciousness, but I did gray -- or Grey -- out, as it
 were.   It seemed to me that Jean took control and pulled us apart; half
 regretful that she would lose even this little bit of telepathy.   _How
 horrible_ I thought.   _Losing mind-reading is like losing your legs_. 
    Magneto cleared his throat, and I opened my eyes.   I was floating on
 a magnetic bubble; I could feel the tiniest prick on his influence on the
 parts of my body that touched it.   Scott was crouched next to Jean,
 holding her as though he were afraid she was dying.  
    "You're awake," Magneto said.   He looked relieved.   "I had to
 choose between catching you and Jean; or catching the debris," he said.
   "I fear it may have hit the youngest child." 
    "Oh, no," I said.   I lifted myself up, careful to avoid crossing his
 touch.   "Where did Power Pack go?" I said.  
    "To check on their sister?" he said.  
    Next to us, I heard Jean say, "Don't be silly, Scott.   Jess -- she
 didn't attack me.   We crossed each other."  To us she said, "We had better
 see what's up." 
    Descending more swiftly than an elevator, we traveled down to the
 street.   Magneto brought the remains of the mast down after us.  
    The debris had hit the street, crushing several cars beneath it.   I
 steeled myself and scanned the wreckage for bodies.   _Oh Lord_ I thought
 as I extended my awareness, _that cute little girl_....    
    "There!" Jean said.  We followed her around a large chunk of the
 mast.  The littlest Packer was sobbing next to Pestilence, who lay half
 crushed beneath a section of debris like the Wicked Witch of the East.  The
 other children were gathered round her, her sister also crying and the
 younger boy wiping surreptitiously at his eyes.  Besides the Horseman,
 there seemed to be no casualties.
    "Oh, Katie," Jean said.  "I'm so sorry."
    "Child," Magneto said and picked up the little girl just as he would
 have Anya, her head against his shoulder, softly stroking her hair.
  _Anya_?  I thought, because information had stuck in my mind like gunk
 between my teeth.  _That was his little daughter_.  His sadness at her loss
 often overwhelmed him when I was in danger; were I in his shoes I'd have
 seriously considered locking me in a padded room to keep me _safe_.
    It was his fatherly concern that had given him the strength to cut
 free from me and Jean; the loss of the autonomy of the self had frightened
 him yet at the same time he had enjoyed it; to really communicate.  I felt
 like I wanted to talk over a hundred things with him, yet this was no time
 to do it.
    Jean had put her arms around the shoulders of the remaining Power
 Pack kids.  I caught her eye and she winked at me.  Another person I had so
 much to discuss with.  We'd be untangling ourselves for weeks; but it was
 rather a pleasant prospect.
    "What's going on here?" Scott demanded, coming around the corner of
 the debris.  He'd gone to check on the rest of the wreckage.  Magneto
 looked up, Jean turned round, but it was me who found my voice first.
    "When the tower fell we all grabbed for it at the same time, Scott,"
 I said.  He looked startled, and I realized I'd used his real name -- it
 just felt as if I knew him that well.  "Magneto had to choose between
 catching us or the debris -- and he chose us."
    "Ah," Scott said.  "I see." It was the kind of remark you make when
 you plan on _seeing_ later but can't quite manage just now.
    "Scott, we have to go after Warren," said Jean.
    I somehow knew from the jumble of memories I had received from
 Magneto and Jean, that the Death who had attacked us was an altered Angel,
 better known as Warren Worthington III.  I could see in Magneto's
 expression that he had concluded that as well.
    "You must go after him," he said to Jean.  "Apocalypse has deranged
 his mind."
    Jean nodded wordlessly, but Scott said, "As much as I'd like to,
 there's still Apocalypse to stop.  We can't pursue a personal agenda."
    "Besides," said Magneto. "Warren may have returned to Apocalypse's
 ship, by now."
    Scott walked over to Pestilence's metal steed, which had landed near
 its defunct owner, standing like a blank-eyed metal statue.  "I always said
 I could fly anything," he said half to himself, "and now I'm going to find
 out." He mounted, checking the controls set in the high cantle of the  saddle.
 
 "Get up behind me, Jean," he said.  "We're going to the ship."
    As she went to sit behind Cyclops, Magneto spoke up.  "I'll come with
 you," he said.
    Scott's head snapped around.  "Not on your life!" he said heatedly.
  "I'll have enough problems without having to watch my back, thank you!  Go
 protect your Hellfire Club interests if you have to do something."
    A dark look stole over Magneto's face and then it smoothed again.  He
 opened his mouth to say something -- no doubt sarcastic or acid-tinged,
 when Jean cut him off.
    "Someone has to protect the city," she said.  "What if Warren isn't
 on the ship, Scott?  Someone has to stop him and I'd prefer it to be a
 friend."
    "I will do my best to avoid injury to him, Jean," Magneto said.
    "Thank you," she said.  "If we don't come out in half an hour, we
 would appreciate some backup."
    "Jean!" Scott said.
    "What choice do we have?" Jean said to him.  "We can't let personal
 feelings get in the way, can we?"
    By the set of his jaw I could see Scott was thinking.  but thinking
 quickly.  "All right," he said.  "A half hour, but not before."
    As the metal steed rose in the air Jean said to us, "Take care! I'll
 talk to you later." They flew swiftly away in the direction of the ship.
    Magneto turned to me.  "As for you," he said, "I have a very
 important task for you."
    "Yes?" I said, thinking _I should have volunteered to go with Scott
 and Jean_.
    "I want you to see these children back safely to their home."
    I stared at him.  He wasn't joking.  He wanted me to play super-
powered babysitter.  "We can take care of ourselves," said the younger
 Power boy, "Counterweight", loudly.
    "Do your parents know where you are?" said Magneto.
    Counterweight looked at his feet.  "No," he said.
    "Why do I have to take care of the kids?" I said.
    "Jessica," Magneto said.  "I assure you taking charge of
 undisciplined children is a very educational experience."
    I opened my mouth to reply, but thought better of it.   
    "Why should we do what you say?" said the older girl.
    "Because, little one," said Magneto, "if you do not, I shall have to
 spank you." 
    "You wouldn't!" said Starstreak.
    "He punishes people all the time," I said, giving him a look.
    "[If you cannot get them home,]" he said in Polish, "[at least keep
 them safe until after the emergency is past.]"
    "Mom says it's impolite to speak a language in front of people who
 don't understand it," the younger boy said loudly.
    "[You shall have your hands full,]" Magneto added, ignoring him.  "[I
 expect a complete report when you get back to the mansion.]" He took off in
 Angel's last known direction.
    I watched him fly away, not sure if I should be pleased or angry.
    "Uh, we better be getting home now," said the older boy.
    "I want Mommy," said the littlest girl with a sniff.  _So do I, kid_,
 I thought.
    "I'll see you home, then," I said.  Maybe they weren't going to be a
 problem.
    "Oh no you won't," the younger boy said.  "I just bet you'd love to
 know our secret identities."
    "Listen, kid," I snapped, hands on my hips.  "I don't give a flying -
- ah, fig -- about who you are in real life.  But I just promised to get
 you home okay and I'm going to do it or die trying."
    "But we can't tell you our secret identities," said the little girl. 
 "We shouldn't even tell you where we live."
    The younger boy was still angry looking, the other kids concerned and
 unhappy.
    "Listen," I said.  "I promise I won't tell anyone where you live."
    "How do we know you aren't lying?" said the older girl, sensibly
 enough.
    I thought quick.  "My honor as an ex-Girl Scout," I said, holding up
 three fingers.  "Besides, I'll tell you where _I_ live," I added.  "Then
 we'll be fair and square."
    "Well," the oldest boy said.  "Give us a minute, huh?" He gestured to
 his sibling and they bent over together, football huddle style, whispering
 back and forth, with a few glances in my direction.
    "Well...okay," said the oldest boy.   "We live on the Upper West
 Side."
    "I live at Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in  Salem
 Center, New York," I said.  "That's where the X-Men live."
    "You know the X-Men?" said the younger boy.
    "Err -- some of them," I said.  _Magneto counted, sort of_.
    "Wow," said the younger boy.  "Are you an X-Man?"
    "Not on your life!"  I said.  "I'm just... a student there."
    "What's your name?" said Starstreak.
    "Ah," I said.  I didn't want to say _Miranda_, I'd just be confused
 if they called me that.  "Call me Jessica."
    "Okay, Jessica," said the older boy, with a bit of confidence.  "We
 live at 187 West 57th Street," 
    "Good," I said.  "I'll fly us there."
    "We can fly ourselves," said the smallest girl.
    "I can't really fly but Ka -- Starstreak can tow me," said the
 smaller boy.  "And I can hold onto Destroyer."
    "Let's get going," I said.   "Your parents are going to be worried if
 we don't get a move on."
    We headed across Manhattan diagonally, more or less.  The kids flew
 slower than I wanted -- Counterweight holding up Destroyer with his anti-
gravity power, Starstreak towing the both of them.  Molecula, Mistress of
 Density, flew alongside them, in a cloud form.
    I let the kids lead -- they were evidently native New Yorkers, or at
 least more native than I was.  We proceeded north and west without incident
 for more than a mile.  Between the buildings I occasionally caught glimpses
 of the alien ship; it had stopped tumbling and was drifting slowly in the
 direction of New Jersey.
    We cut west across another street.
    "Look!" cried Destroyer. "There's a building on fire!"
    Firemen and fire engines were clustered around it, like bees around a
 flower.  Smoke and occasional flames were pouring out of the lower windows.
  "I don't think we should --" I started to say.
    "The ladders aren't reaching high enough!" said Starstreak.  "They
 can't reach the people!"
    The little girl was right; the building was too high, and there were
 people hanging out the top windows and huddled on the roof.
    "We've got to do something," declared 'Molecula.'
    "Whoa, wait a second," I said.  "You've got to get home safe."
    "But the people --" she started to say.
    "I'll take care of it," I said.  "You wait for me on that roof over
 there.  I won't be but a minute."
    It actually took me more than a minute.  Certainly more than five,
 probably less than ten, though I was so busy it seemed longer.  The first
 lady I picked up panicked and started screaming until I put her down safely
 next to the ambulance.  The rest of the people came more quietly.  "I
 _love_ you, lady!" a middle-aged man called out as I lowered him to the
 ground.
    Lastly I swept my TK though the empty building.  I didn't have time
 to be very careful, but I didn't find any signs of life outside of a cat
 crouched beneath a stove.  I got it out, grateful that my seeker sense
 meant I didn't have to get any closer than the air outside the building.
  The heat and the flames wouldn't have bothered me, but the smoke would have
 affected me as much as anyone.
    I didn't stop to wave, I just bugged out.  There was a television
 news truck pulled up, I noted with a sinking heart.  I was certainly going
 to come in for an unfair share of fame.  I wondered what they'd make of the
 fact that I was Magneto's daughter
    Well, they weren't about to find out from me.   I flew to the roof
 where Power Pack waited.   I'd half expected them to bug out.
    "You were _great_!"  Starstreak said.
    "Let's get going," I said.   A helicopter was hovering above the
 burning building.   "I don't fancy being the lead story on the six o'clock
 news."
    "I know how we can lose them," said Counterweight.   He directed us
 up several streets and alleys, allowing the copter to lose us entirely.
   We came on the Hudson River, New Jersey across the water.
    The alien ship was heading west, and I hoped it would keep going into
 the sunset.   Power Pack paused alongside of me.
    "I think it's going to hit the Statue of Liberty," Starstreak said in
 a small high voice.
    "Huh?" her next eldest brother said.   I felt like echoing him as I
 tried to calculate the trajectory.   The Statue was right in the ship's
 path -- though the ship was still comfortably high.   It seemed to be slowly 
sinking....
    "You're right -- it _is_ going to hit," said Destroyer.
    "What are we gonna do?" said Counterweight.
    Power Pack was all looking at me.   "We're supposed to go home," I
 said.   Their eyes looked somehow bigger and sadder.   "I doubt it's going
 to hit," I said.   "It's just the angle.   An optical illusion."
    "We could go and make sure," said Starstreak.   "It would only take a
 _minute_."
    I tried to figure out an answer to that.   Noemi would have pointed
 out that the Statue was after all only a statue, a symbol that had very
 little to do with the true meaning of Liberty.   But I knew in my heart
 that it was too beautiful, too meaningful to far too many people to let it
 fall.
    "Please!" said Starstreak.   She was close to tears.   "You won't let
 anything happen to Lady Liberty, will you Jessica?"
    "Well," I said.   "We _could_ go out and see...."
    
    next scene continues in Part 3
    
    This story (c) 1992 Connie Hirsch
    The New Mutants, Magneto, the Hellions, Loki, the Hellfire Club, the
 Horsemen of the Apocalpse, Spiderman, the Avengers, Power Pack and all
 constituent characters (c) 1992 Marvel Comics Group.  
    This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without
 permission of the author.

--
**(Connie Hirsch  still: fuzzy@athena.mit.edu no longer: chirsch@lotus.com)**
        Oh life is a glorious cycle of song/ A medley of extemporanea       
   And love is a thing that can never go wrong/ And I am Marie of Roumania.    
						-Dorothy Parker