Kid Dynamo Chapter Three "You Bet Your Life" by Connie Hirsch Our Story So Far: In Chapter One, fire-proof teenage mutant runaway Jessica Pierce (nee Majewski) was rescued from The Right by Magneto and the Baby Brotherhood -- er, make that the New Mutants. In Chapter Two, Our Heroine began classes at Xavier's School for Angst-Ridden -- er, make that Gifted -- Youngsters. She fits right in, despite some justifiable misgivings about the headmaster, making the tentative beginnings of friendship with her fellow students. For crying out loud, she promised to stay a month and give the school an honest try -- and it's hard to _dislike_ the kids at Xavier's, no matter how prejudiced you are. Chapter Two ended as Jessica entered the Danger Room with a mysterious comment from Magneto: "I would remind you that this session will be a test of _all_ of your abilities." I took a centering breath and walked across the Danger Room at a steady pace; not too excitedly, not too slowly. _He_ was watching. When I reached the far side of the room I turned, unslung my rifle and held it ready in my hands. "Lay on, MacDuff," I said toward the Control Room. "Commencing Jessica Pierce Training Session One, Sequence RA27," said a female computer voice, "Thursday October 5th, 9:45 AM." The words echoed around the big empty room and I heard a sudden hissing. Drone rockets flew from the far corners, going no faster than a bird flies. _Slowly but surely_, I thought, bringing the rifle up to bear on the first drone. I shot two on my first try, then got overconfident and wasted three shots on the third. But I was back in form on the fourth. Jessie 4, Danger Room 0. While I'd been occupied, a maze of steel walls had been erected between me and the Door. I'd expected this from observing Dani's previous run. I approached it at a relaxed trot, and instead of running through the maze I vaulted to the top of the steel walls. It was about an inch and a half wide; not impossible to manage if you've done balance beam. As an added advantage I could get an idea of the layout of the maze. There was movement to my left, so I teetered my way over to the right. Of course, more drones _would_ have to be released just now. I found a corner and straddled the intersection, my legs hanging down on either side to give me a stable platform to shoot from. Four more shots, four more drones gone to rocket heaven. My pause had given my robot opponents time to catch up. The two from my left were in the compartment next to me, so I jumped down to the right. It was a long corridor, and no sooner had my yellow-booted feet touched the ground than two other robots popped into the far end. They were shiny standard Shi'ar technology robots -- mostly man-shaped and man-size. The Danger Room can produce robots indistinguishable from human beings, but they're never used against novice students -- too upsetting. I wasted two shots on the chest of the lead, but the bullets just ricocheted. That was unfair, but I didn't stop to curse my luck; I next tried the ruby glass "face" plate on the robot's head. Bingo -- kill the robot's brain, kill the robot. I took its pal out with my next shot, then I reloaded. Yes, I'd only shot 14 of the 17 bullets in the cartridge, but Noemi always advised reloading when you were low and you had time -- better not to run out. I stowed the nearly empty cartridge on my belt, and when I looked up the other two robots were coming over the wall. I got the first one while it was still climbing, but the second one hit the ground running and was up close before I could shoot. I dodged its grab, reversed my grip on the gun and swung the butt end into the robot's face mask with lethal results -- for the robot. _Next time I'll ask for a bayonet_. I felt pretty good, exhilarated even. When I climbed atop the walls again I saw the multiple Control Room trick that Doug had described was being played on me. Each wall of the room had its own Control Room window and Door. I wasn't fooled at all, as I hadn't lost track of what way I was facing. I continued forward, and when a wall of flames sprung up before me I was hardly even surprised. I clicked the safety on the rifle and tossed it through first. While I was fireproof, the gun wasn't. As I started forward I thought about the cartridges strung about my waist -- probably safe, as my inflammable bodyfield was thick there, but still an uncomfortable thought. I made it through the flames all right. I could smell the odor of singed hair, and I cursed myself for having forgotten to wet my hair down so it wouldn't burn down to 3 inches long. Too late now; it was only since Noemi's death that I'd had a chance to grow it out to a reasonable length. I didn't spend much time cursing my appearance. Three more maze walls to climb and the open space to the Door and out; but in the last compartment there was a holographic "tiger trap" disguised to look like plain floor. When I felt my leading foot sink through the "floor" there was no way to pull back, so I leaped and made the best of my momentum. It wouldn't have been enough; but I cheated. I hadn't meant to, of course, but I defy anyone who could prevent themselves from falling onto a bunch of spikes from doing something about it. It might not have looked like I cheated; my leap just turned into a slightly longer leap that carried me halfway onto the lip of the far edge. I dropped the rifle as I landed, unfortunately, and I heard it clatter against the side of the pit, and when I looked down I could see it "lying" atop the invisible forcefield just above the spikes. Like Doug had said, on a first run, anything that could hurt was really a fake. "_Most_ interesting, Jessica," Magneto said over the PA. "Sadistic bastard," I muttered. The rifle was a good ten feet down in the pit. I'd just have to finish without it. I climbed over the last wall, cursing myself for being a cheater. There was a clear space, about a football field wide, between me and the Door. And there were some Shi'ar robots standing in front of it, not unlike the front four of the Chicago Bears. Well, I didn't have much to lose except my dignity, and in a sense I'd already lost my integrity. I set out at a run towards the robots. I weigh 145 pounds on a 5' 11" frame, maybe not as big as a linebacker, but a reasonable hope nonetheless. I might bowl over a robot and make my escape. It went off as planned -- almost. At the last moment I broke left and nearly ran over the far left robot, breaking its grip with a karate block. But I tripped over the falling robot, and I tumbled forward. I got to my feet almost instantly, but it had given the closest robot just enough time to react. It hit me with some kind of opaque netting that covered my body and head, and then _tightened_. I couldn't breathe, the breath was being squeezed out of me. I don't mind telling you I freaked out at this point; the memory of those "Right" bastards was still all too fresh; I completely _lost_ it. Me losing it is a little more violent than most other people. The netting exploded off me in every direction, followed by the robot doing the same. I turned; saw the other robots start for me, and they likewise exploded. It's easy for me to make things explode or come apart: it's just random kinetic energy applied to an object, no precision needed. If I hadn't lost my temper I would have stopped to reason that these were alien technology, made of real tough metal, and talked myself out of trying to do it. I stood there looking at the little bits of the robots scattered all over the floor, feeling stunned. The netting had scared me so much I'd broken a cold sweat. I could feel it trickling uncomfortably down the small of my back. _Ohgodohgodohgodohgod_ , I said to myself. Knocking apart robots was not something I wanted to do with my power. I took a deep breath. "I quit!" I said in a loud voice. I turned shakily and started walking towards the Door, thirty or so yards away. "No," said Magneto over the PA. "Surrender is not an option in the Danger Room." At this angle, the Control Room window was nearly opaque, so I couldn't see his face, just an outline. "'With your shield, or on it,' Jessica." "Commencing switch to Sequence R56C," said the emotionless female announcer voice of the computer. That son of a bitch bastard was upping the Danger Room level on me! The floor beneath my feet commenced to bucking like Southern California in the earthquake season. I later found out that's a common ploy to get flyers up into the air. I just lifted about a foot above it. Lifting is easy -- just apply 145 pounds of thrust straight up and you hover. Trust me on this one. "I don't want to fight," I said softly. Not entirely true. I wanted to cry and I wanted to huddle in a corner somewhere, but most of all I wanted to hit something very, very hard. I suppose it's a sad but true commentary on life that it's always easier to realize our basest impulses, whether it's an extra slice of chocolate cake for dessert or smashing a giant robot that comes flying at you. Well, it wasn't exactly a giant robot, more like a ten- foot-tall robot. Big enough to impress, anyway, and it was indeed flying at me menacingly. Right here my inexperience dealing with large objects began to show. I overestimated its mass and inertia, instead of "reading" it for the true amount. So when I "pushed" it away I threw it into the far wall of the Danger Room instead of merely stopping it in its tracks. The smash didn't do the big robot any good; little bits of trim fell off as it slid down the wall. It got up kind of shakily and I knocked it over hard, denting it somewhat. When I "read" or "grab" something I feel it all over, inside and out. There were all kinds of unidentifiable-to-me systems whirring inside the robot; I'm no mechanical engineer. I went through it, pulling anything that felt metallic and very thin: wires. The poor robot flopped around like a dying fish on a dock. Having pulled the wires, I went back and started exploding anything that held liquid -- hydraulic systems and oil, I suppose. The robot stopped flopping and lay there smoldering. I didn't have long to contemplate my handiwork. Two more robots "materialized." There were bigger than the one I'd just defeated, twenty-footers maybe. I smashed the one that took off first by batting it onto the floor of the Danger Room. Simultaneously, the second robot shot a laser beam. I know because I looked toward it and noticed a bright light pointed in my direction. In fact I felt a slight sensation of heat, no worse than I would from a boiling pot of water. The laser seemed to be hitting me in the center of my chest. I held my hand in the beam and watched, enchanted, as the glove disintegrated. I was apparently immune to lasers too. The first big robot was starting to stir, so I picked up my pal the laser robot and battered the first with it -- wham! wham! wham! -- until they were your basic scrap metal. I suppose at this point in the narrative I should go off into a soliloquy on how "my power was a song within me." Perhaps telekinesis is like that for other people, but for me it feels no different an experience than walking or thinking. Maybe a little more like dancing or martial arts, and the pleasure I get from it is the same kind of feeling you'd get from doing a kata well. The only difference this time was in the quantity of energy I was handling; it was like discovering that you have gears four and five when you thought third was as high as you'd ever go -- and maybe suspecting that sixth and seventh are distinct possibilities. Or maybe it's the feeling you'd get stepping down on the accelerator of a Porsche. Which is a pleasant feeling, believe you me, but not cosmic by any stretch of the imagination. When the robots were so much scrap metal, I let go and turned my attention to the panic button beside the Door. That's the one you hit when you make it. Three times I pressed it with TK and not only didn't the door open and the test end, but the female announcer voice came on: "Commencing Sequence R7A." Trap doors whirred in the center of the Danger Room floor and this humongous robot rose on a giant elevator platform. I was very, very angry now. Not only had that magnetic son-of-a-bitch lied to me about finishing the test, he was sending me up against a goddamned Transformer. I didn't even wait until Mecha-Godzilla or whoever finished moving up to floor level. I just messed up everything internal in it, rather like reaching inside a pumpkin and pulling out the seeds and pulp. Then I flattened the shell that was left, just pressing it onto the floor like a giant pile diver. "_La guerre est finie_!" I said, looking at the robo- pancake. (The war is over.) Over the PA, Magneto merely said, "_Mais seulement si on nous laisse la finir_." (If they would only let us finish it.) "No, it is over," I said, walking on air over the the god-damned Door. "I! Want! Out!" I yelled and grabbed the Door with all my power. There is a thin Shi'ar forcefield around the inside perimeter of the Danger Room that protects the sophisticated mechanisms that actually run the holograms and physical attributes. As you might suspect, it's one pretty tough forcefield. In response to my attack on the Door, the forcefield thickened. It felt somewhat like trying to push your fingers through a foot of wet modeling clay. Not impossible, just very very hard. It was taking an awful lot of kinetic power. I didn't know where the power came from, it just seemed to run through me. It was an effect I tried for months to reproduce -- out of anger, with unthinking instinct, I got it exactly right this time. If I hadn't been trying for the door; if there hadn't been a break in the wall right there for me to grab, I probably couldn't have done it. But there was, and with a tremendous crunch the pneumatic doors slammed open into their frames, the frames bending, pushing into the wall, the metal of the walls groaning and splitting, electric wires sparking, klaxons going off, and the Shi'ar forcefield shimmering with violent bright moire patterns before it overloaded and quit. It had gotten very cold in the Danger Room; I could see my breath come out in little puffs of white. Without a word I walked out the door -- make that opening -- into the Ready Room. Illyana was still sitting cross-legged on the couch. Doug and Dani had sensibly dived for cover when the door blew; they straightened up from behind the couch as I passed. Illyana was calm but then she figures she can 'port away from almost anything. One day she is going to be very surprised or dead or both. She raised a blond eyebrow as I looked at her. "What is this," I said, "Lethal Dose 50 testing for mutants?" She shrugged. "You passed, anyway," she said. "I _quit_," I said, and walked off in the direction of the locker room. Behind me I heard Illyana say, "If that's surrender, I'd hate to see it when she wins." * * * I didn't quite make it to the locker room before the tears started. Lucky I don't need to look to see where I'm going. There was no one in the room so I sat in front of my locker and pulled out a towel to cry into. Since nobody was around I didn't use my hands to do it. Not that it was a secret anymore. Everybody or nearly had seen. There was a gentle knocking on the door of the locker room that I ignored the first two times. The third time I yelled, "Go away!" Stevie pushed the door just a little and said, "Jes', are you okay?" I tried to say "go away" again but it just came out as a sob. Before I knew it, she was sitting beside me on the bench, giving me a shoulder to cry on. And it's impossible to tell someone doing that to buzz off. Besides, I really needed a shoulder at the moment. "Tell me what you're afraid of, honey," she said. "It can't be bad as all that." "Oh, but it is," I said, hiccupping. "Do you think he'll ever let me go, now that he knows I have a useful power?" "He didn't offer you a place here based on what you could do," said Stevie. "Although I was surprised to find out he knew you were telekinetic, and hadn't said anything to anybody." "That's just like him, the manipulative bastard," I said. "You shouldn't worry he'll keep you here against your will," she said. "Neither Sharon, nor Tom, nor I would sit still for it. And neither would the other students. I doubt he'd tear the school apart over one student." I had my doubts on that one, but I held my tongue. "You were pretty... spectacular in there," said Stevie, her arm still around me. I stiffened a little. "Did ...you know you could do that?" she said. "Oh, I guess I thought I could," I said. "I've been moving things around since I was eleven. Mostly just small stuff at first. Later on I could lift cars and things pretty easy." I started crying again. "It's just that there is such a difference between thinking _maybe_ you could kill somebody and _knowing_ you could." "It's going to be okay, Jessica," said Stevie. "When I was 15 -- around when Mother died -- I biked over to the Ohio River and tried to lift a barge, to see if I could. I didn't get a good grip on it -- or maybe it was too much for me to handle -- and it broke right open and sank. The Army Corps of Engineers had to come and dredge the channel. I decided not to do anything big after that fiasco." "It must have been very lonely for you," said Stevie. "After my mother died, it was," I said. I took a deep breath; my chest hurt a little the way it does after a cry. "She thought my talent was marvelous -- she was always after me to work with it, to see how I could use it. When I was alone with her we'd make up games to see what I could do." She patted my shoulder. "So you don't feel guilty about your power, at least." "No, I've never been guilty about being a mutant," I said. "Scared about the world finding about, how people will treat me." I sighed, "I guess this must be close to my nightmare -- revealing my power this way." I shivered. "I don't think anyone here will blame you for wanting to keep a secret," said Stevie. "Just about everyone here has been hunted or persecuted at some time for being different, Magneto on down." "I particularly didn't want him ...knowing," I said. "Oh Stevie, you don't know what a villain he's been." "I guess I don't," she said quietly. "I've only known him for the past year, since he's come to run the school, and I've only judged him on the basis of that. I know that numerous times he tried to defeat -- kill! -- Charles and the X-Men, that they were sworn enemies." She looked me in the eyes. "And yet ...they ended up accepting him as an ally, and in a few cases, as friend. So I'm not the only one who thinks he is a good man." "Why do you keep defending him?" I said exasperated. She took a deep breath. "I guess I could turn that question around on you," she said at last. "Why do you keep attacking him?" "_Because_," I said. "He's hurt you very badly, or at least you think he has," she said. "I heard from the kids that you blame him for your mother's death." "He's a murderer many times over," I said. "That's just my best reason to hate him." Stevie was silent for maybe a minute, while I thought over those many reasons. "Have you asked him," she said, "about just what went on, what he did to your mother?" "No," I said in a small voice. "Don't you think he deserves an opportunity to defend himself, defend the decisions he made, and at the least apologize for what happened?" "I just... can't," I said. "Are you the least bit afraid," she said, "that your hate isn't justified?" I hung my head and was silent. After a couple of minutes she stirred. "Listen, I realize this is a lot to hit you with all at once. Let's take it one problem at a time, put that matter aside for now. After that trick he just played you, I can't blame you for being angry with him. Now is not the time to get into the rest of your problems." "The only solution I can think of," I said, "is for me to stay up in my room for the rest of the month. But I don't think that will work." "No, neither do I," she said with an impish grin. I had to smile back. "Let's go out to lunch, and I'll take you to see my cousin Marceline the hairdresser." "My hair!" I said, my hands to my head. On top of everything else I'd forgotten what had happened to my hair. "What a mess," I said, looking in the big mirror. My brown hair had burned down to a mere three inches at the top, longer at the bottom where it had touched along my shoulders and back. "I'll take you to see Marceline, who will tell you herself she's one of the ten best hairdressers on the planet. Actually, I haven't the faintest idea what she's doing in Brooklyn, aside from enjoying herself mightily. In fact, I can't think of a better way to perk up both our spirits," said Stevie. Magneto was busy debriefing the New Mutants on their sessions. "And probably getting hell for the swift one he pulled on you," said Stevie. "But I think we'll just leave a note and hit the road. After things have calmed down -- on our end, and here, we can come back and have a quiet little talk with His Magnetism." I agreed, and went off to take a quick shower and change clothes in my room. The student costume wasn't in too bad shape; the only thing that had taken bad damage was the gloves, now fingerless. * * * Stevie drove us down Route 684 to Brooklyn. We passed the time talking about where she'd gone to school and why she'd decided to go into dancing. She'd been a rising young star with the Alvin Ailey troupe when she'd had her accident. Stevie wasn't the boastful type; I had to dig to get a lot of the details. "Aren't you bitter?" I asked. "There's bitter, and then there's regretful," she said. "Yeah, there's a part of me that would still like to perform -- not anything quite like that -- but since wishes aren't horses, there's not much I can do about it." "I mean, you did get a second opinion about your knee?" "And a third and a fourth. There are experimental procedures that could be tried -- with no guarantee they could better anything, and a good chance they could worsen it. And even if they could fix up my knee, I've lost my momentum as a dancer, gotten old...." "You can't be that _old_," I said. "Thirty is old for a dancer on a comeback, kid," said Stevie. "Dancing, as a profession, chews up its young and spits them out when done. In some ways, I'm lucky I got forcibly retired when I did -- young enough to find something else to focus my life on. I took my physical therapy degree while I was recovering from the accident and then all the surgeries. Taught me there's a lot worse fates out there than a bum knee." Marceline's Beauty Salon was in a racially mixed section of Brooklyn that Stevie had grown up in. I had never been to the borough before and I was enchanted to find how lively, bustling and prosperous Brooklyn could be. "You tell people 'Brooklyn' and they immediately assume all kinds of things," said Stevie with a smile. "Just wait 'til you see Marceline and see how wrong you were on that one, too." "I didn't know it showed," I said, chagrined. "I mean, I'm sure I trust you on this one." "Just give it a try." said Stevie. We parked the car in front of a storefront decorated with a large painted rainbow and walked in through a door decorated with unicorns and dragons. "Ooh, Stevie-girl," said a large black woman from down a line of chairs where she'd been talking to another woman. "Where _have_ you been keeping yourself?" "Hello yourself, Marcie," Stevie said. "I brought you one of my students, Jessica Pierce -- she's in bad need of a haircut." "I see, I see," said Marceline. She was comfortably padded, with a broad face and a smile that could light up a room. "Well, we can fix things up for you," she said to me. "Nancy, get over here and show the baby to my cousin Stevie," she said to the young white woman who'd been visiting the shop. Marceline and I left Stevie cooing over the baby while we went to the back of the shop for a shampoo. The little salon was rife with small unicorn and dragon toys. It was overwhelming at first, but the charm of it all began to win me over. Marceline even had a bib with a unicorn on it for me. Following her directions I was soon lying back in a chair, my head above a sink, while Marceline's strong fingers massaged warm water and shampoo through what was left of my hair. "What'd you do, burn off your hair?" Marceline said. She applied those heavenly fingers to my scalp and I sighed in contentment. "My nephew's girlfriend nearly burned her scalp off leaning over a stove last year." She was applying conditioner and I didn't catch what she said the first time. "You really shouldn't dye your hair, that's really destroyed the body." Hairdressers can always tell. I tried to keep it casual. "Oh, I like it this color," I said. I'd been dying my hair from before Mother and I went underground. "It's your hair, I suppose," she said. "Would you like me to try a new kind of dye on it -- less harsh? I may as well do some deep conditioning while you're here -- your hair would behave better if you treated it better." "I'd like that," I said, and added casually as I could, "Don't tell Stevie, okay?" "Honey, that's against the International Hairdresser's Code," Marceline said. I wasn't entirely sure she was joking. The hairdresser put some greasy glop on my hair and wrapped my head up with hot towels. We sat and Marceline hauled out some pictures of what she thought she could do for me. While Nancy and Stevie chattered away, I was combed and clipped and blown dry. It was like watching a master sculptor at work -- she was just removing all the parts that weren't beautiful. It was probably the best haircut of my entire life, not that that's saying much -- I'd never had money to waste on hairdressers and when Noemi had been alive she hadn't tried to push me towards dressing up. "Plenty of time for that, love," she'd say. She would have loved seeing me fixed up. When I was properly exclaimed over by all present, Marceline gave me a brown paper bag with bottles of "conditioner" in it. I caught the wink she gave me when she handed it over so I knew it was really more dye for touch- ups. * * * "This is really great!" I said, pausing to admire myself in a store window. "Just wait until we get some makeup on you and get you in that party dress," said Stevie with a laugh. "You'll break hearts." "Nah," I said. "Noemi broke hearts -- I'll never be so elegant or lovely as she was." "Who says you have to be," said Stevie, opening her Saab. "You shouldn't judge yourself against your mother." "You said we were going to have lunch," I said. It was past one o'clock already. "Indeed I did, and I know just the dear little diner to have it in on the way back to school." Back to school. I had forgotten that part of it. Stevie noticed my silence as we pulled back onto the highway and said, "Penny for your thoughts, Jes.'" "I gotta face _them_ and _him_," I said briefly. She sighed. "Well, so tell me, what's the worse that could happen?" "The kids could refuse to talk to me, or treat me differently. Or -- be frightened of me." "They're not that frightened of Magneto -- have you noticed?" she said. "Your telekinesis is more like his magnetism than anyone else's power. If they can handle what he does, they can surely accept you. You're a nicer, friendlier person any day of the week." "But I've been lying to everyone about what I can do -- even if it was a lie of omission." "A sincere apology would do wonders to correct _that_," said Stevie. I watched the highway go by for a minute or so. Something occurred to me. "I guess I should apologize to you first," I said to her. Stevie gave me a grin. "Already accepted. I think you'll find most of the kids feel the same way." I took a deep breath. "....what about Magneto?" I said. "What about him?" Stevie said. We pulled into a roadside diner where several trucks were parked. "Best coffee and pecan pie in New York State," she said. "And their food isn't bad either." We got a private booth away from the customers so we could continue talking. "I guess I apologize to _him_ too," I said. "But not before he apologizes to you," she said. "He knew and didn't say anything." "He kept dropping hints," I said. "I kept ignoring them." "It's never easy to admit you're wrong," said Stevie. "Particularly to Magneto," I said. "My advice is to offer to start over fresh," she said thoughtfully. "The one thing he wants is to succeed with you children, to see you protected and happy. I think what hurts him is knowing how much he's done in the past that still works against that end." "He made his own bed," I said. * * * It was a super meal, and the pie was positively ambrosial. We paid and left, back on the road to Salem Center. We were several miles away when Stevie frowned and tugged the wheel back and forth. "Steering's gone all mushy," she said. "I'm going to pull over." Luckily there was a deserted rest stop just ahead. It was obvious what was wrong when we got out of the car -- the right front tire was going flat. "Oh, damn!" said Stevie. She went around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. She's one of those people who keeps ten thousand things in the trunk of her car -- old books, athletic equipment, snow shovels left over from the previous winter. With a sigh she started to take things out to get down to the spare. "Uh, Stevie," I said hesitantly. "I could...." Stevie put a bundle of Self magazines down on the curb. "Huh?" she said. I gestured towards the car. "I could change the tire," I said. "Oh, you're welcome to help," she said, handing me the jack. "See if you can get the stupid thing to work." "I mean I could do the whole thing," I said, and lifted the front of the car. Stevie peered around the end of the car when she felt it shift. "That was quick," she said, and opened her mouth when she saw I was still holding the jack. "I guess," she said, "if you want to change the tire on the car I shouldn't get in the way." I grinned at her and lifted out the rest of the contents of the trunk in one easy go. The spare was underneath so I floated it over to the front, and put everything back where it had more or less been. I spun the nuts off, took off the flat, put on the spare, put the nuts back on (tightening them alternately) and put the flat back on top of the junk in the trunk. Elapsed time was about a minute, and I hadn't hurried either. I let the front of the car down easy and brought the pump up and connected it to the valve. While it pumped away I asked Stevie, "Do you have a tire pressure gauge?" She closed her mouth and said, "In the glove compartment, I think." I got it out. "I don't think I can tell if the tire is properly inflated just by feeling it -- at least not reliably." I went on my knees to check the little gauge. "I confess I'm glad there's something you have to do the old fashioned way," said Stevie. I smiled up at her. "I think it's ready to go," I said, dusting off my knees. "Much better than lugging things out of the trunk and getting grease over everything, no?" "I have to agree with you, kiddo," said Stevie. "Remind me to tell you the next time I need my tires rotated." I laughed. "Oh, for that you want 'Firestone, Master of Rubber.'" * * * Things were ominously quiet back at the mansion. Physics class was still in session so Stevie and I went to the kitchen to hang out 'til Magneto was free. No sooner had we sat down than Illyana came tripping in. She'd changed to a fuzzy white v-necked sweater and a pair of black leather Capri pants. Her hair was tied back with a black ribbon. "Well?" said Stevie, as Illyana checked out the contents of the fridge. "You'd think _Das Ubermensch_ would allow just a little 'Tab' in the house, wouldn't you?" she sighed, holding the door open. "You didn't come down here to check for soft drinks," said Stevie. "So I'm a snoop. Is that a federal offense or something?" she said with a shrug. "I was ready to take bets you wouldn't come back," she added to me. "I didn't know you cared," I murmured, rolling my eyes. "Anyway, we all gave him royal hell for switching sequences on you like that, and not letting you know he knew, and stuff." I sighed. "I apologize for deceiving you," I said. "No skin off my nose," she said. "You want something secret, it can stay secret as far as I'm concerned. Unless there's any further revelations you want to make?" "No," I said, maybe just a shade too fast. Illyana smiled. "Anyway, after Ray, who was crazier than anybody outside of Logan or Magneto, you won't be so hard to deal with." That opened up a whole area of discussion about Rachel Summers, the telepath/telekinetic who sort of wasn't Scott and Jean's daughter. I got filled in with another chapter of New Mutants/X-Men history. By now my sense of wonder had packed up and gone on an extended vacation, so I accepted all that was said at face value. Sooner that I would have liked, Doug walked into the kitchen. "Oh, hey, you're back," he said with a smile. "Magneto's in his study with Dani and Same, I bet he wants to see you." "Stevie?" I said, half a plea. "Right behind you," she said. When we knocked on the door of Magneto's office it swung open silently. The team co-leaders were seated in easy chairs, Magneto at his desk. "I trust I have heard the last of this matter," he said to them and nodded to us: "Stevie, ...Jessica." Sam and Dani excused themselves and left. Sam gave me a wink and a thumbs up as he went past; Dani just stared. Well, she hadn't liked me much to start with, anyway. I sighed inwardly. "If you will be seated," said Magneto. He was dressed in a charcoal gray blazer, cut so that it just hinted at his well developed body. His silver-white hair was startling amid the earth tones of the room. _The prisoner had a hearty meal_, I thought, and almost smiled. Stevie was almost right -- he couldn't do that much to me -- like what, kick me out of the school? "Jessica, you quite surprised me in the Danger Room," he said, breaking the heavy silence with that precise, resonant baritone voice. "I had thought you would inadvertently reveal yourself during your session, but I did not foresee what else would come to pass." I let that digest. "I surprised me, too," I said. "It was just after being caught by those Right guys, and then I was once nearly strangled as a little kid -- I'd just about forgotten." His gaze shot up at that. "Physical telemetry shows a blood pressure jump when the catch web hit you," he said. "Since it reveals no other significant deviance, I'm going to assume it bears no relation to your employing your power." "I don't know, we never checked my blood pressure," I said. "Of course, I wasn't moving large objects around, but Noemi would check my heart rate and breathing and it never seemed to affect me." "You've manifested your telekinesis for some time," he said. "I noted reports of 'poltergeist' activity going back to your mother's first hospitalization in the United States." "I guess it isn't too hard to figure out," I said. "Particularly since you moved items about your room when you were half-conscious," he said. "I don't believe Sharon was present or it would have given her a start." "Hiding's been a way of life for me," I said, not meeting his eyes. "It's kind of a habit." "A habit with a practical purpose," he said. "I hope you realize this is the last place you have to hide your abilities." "I guess I do," I said. "It's kind of hard to make the transition, though." "...And I have not made it any easier for you," Magneto said. "I felt you had had your share of confrontations for the week. In a training session you might very well slip and reveal your telekinetic power -- if not the first session, then one on the following days -- and I could then begin to work with you and your power in earnest." "I wondered if you knew. I didn't trust you," I said, "or I would have said something." "A fact unacknowledged does not go away, no matter how we wish it might," he said softly. "I did not want to push you any further than was absolutely needful." "It seems to me you did quite a bit of pushing in the Danger Room this morning," Stevie said. She'd been silent the whole time, watching the both of us. "You over-rode the Kill Button Jessica pushed." "What?" he said, surprised. "It was never pushed." "Yes it was," I said. "I pushed the damn button _three times_." "You were never that close -- " he started to say, and stopped. "The Kill panel must be activated by hand! Telekinesis would not register upon it -- we changed that because of Rachel Summers." "And nobody told Jessica about it," said Stevie. "It was irrelevant information, given her stated abilities," he said. "Well, that clears up that, at least," Stevie said. "But you still have a lot to answer for." He nodded to her gravely. "I lost my temper," he said. "And for that I sincerely apologize, Jessica. You had succeeded, finished your first sequence all but for pushing the Kill panel. When you declared you were quitting, you ...provoked me." "I apologize," I said. "I was angered," he said, paying my admission the briefest pause, "because it seems to me your surrender was symptomatic of your refusal to deal maturely with your power." "I have excellent control of my power," I said sharply. "It is not the degree of control, but the manner in which you employ it I question," said Magneto, sitting forward in his chair. His eyes sought mine and I was insulted enough to meet them. "You should _never_ have allowed yourself to be captured," he said. "You had a multitude of options that your power granted you up to the moment they rendered you unconscious. The minute your captors said they were FBI you should have reacted, perhaps to provide a diversion in which to escape. Did it never cross your mind that the FBI was unlikely to be interested in Jessica Pierce, teenage runaway -- in which case they were aware of your real identity and you had little to lose?" "I thought of that, yes," I said, looking away. "And yet you did not act to protect yourself," he said. "You hesitated and thus nearly lost your life." I looked down, said nothing. "Would you be interested in hearing why I believe you hesitated?" he said softly. I nodded mutely. "However excellent your control is for everyday matters, when it comes to combat you have little experience. Although you have extensive martial arts training you have not studied offensive and defensive strategies for your power. You were afraid of killing those 'FBI agents' and thus you were lost." "I could have knocked them off their feet, or taken their guns away -- " I said. "-- or disabled their cars, or any number of non- lethal options, which are quite evident in hindsight." Magneto paused. "Yet you took none of these options available to you." He leaned back in his chair, templing his fingers. "The next time something of this nature happens to you -- and it will, I fear -- will you overreact as you did with the robots in the Danger Room? How many city blocks will you devastate -- how many innocents will you kill?" "At the level of power you manifest, it is more work to not kill than to kill. It is an issue I myself must often face. Do you understand why you must have training in the upper limits of your power?" The question hung in the air of the office. I could hear the subtle tick of the clock behind me. He was right, I realized. Beside me, Stevie nodded. "You need more training, Jessica. Your power is a tremendous marvel -- and a corresponding burden. Perhaps we can reduce the toll it will take on your life," he said. I looked over at Stevie for help. "Magnus is right," she said. "So. What do you want me to do?" I said. "Explore the limits of your power under my guidance in training sessions. One area we'll investigate immediately is developing some kind of personal shield for you. Another area will be non-violent methods of disarming or dissuading your foes." he said. "Okay," I said. "When do we start?" "We can slate a regular thrice weekly session starting this Monday," he said. "I believe we can make remarkable headway in a month's time." "Yeah," I said. He hadn't forgotten I'd put the school on a month's probation. "The other area I'd prefer to see you work upon is your use of your power in everyday activities. Aside from your mother, have you ever displayed your abilities to anyone?" "No, just today," I said. You'd think I'd have run out of blushes by now, wouldn't you? "She changed a flat for me on the way home," said Stevie. "Practical, everyday tasks you could ease for your friends. Although I have learned the hard way," he said with a nod of his head to Stevie, "it is much better to ask if assistance is desired." I wondered what kind of incident they'd had in the past. Magneto got up -- the interview was over, and I'd survived, more or less. "Stevie, if we could talk privately -- ? Jessica, if you see Rahne or Illyana, remind them their postponed class from yesterday will be held at four." * * * I made it up to my room without anyone seeing me. I wasn't in a mood for another confrontation, and from the look Dani had given me, there was at least one New Mutant who was seriously annoyed. Sam looked like he was pulling for me, and Doug hadn't acted as though anything were amiss. I was grateful for that, I felt I'd particularly deceived him, pretending I only had a "quiet" power. Illyana claimed to have _known_, but that was something she might easily be lying about. That left Amara and Rahne, neither of whom I knew enough of to predict their feelings. So, roughly, two for, three unknowns, and one against. Not impossible odds. With this "settled," I turned on my clock-radio for some music. You know what was playing? "Don't Worry, Be Happy." I switched to another station, one that played gloomy music. No need to push my luck. I dozed for a while, then I started in on physics. It was really no time before there was a tap on my door. I took a "look." My visualization is not visualization at all; it's more like a tactile feeling. I don't "see" at all, I get a very precise mind picture of the physical relation of objects. So when I say I took a "look" you might imagine me feeling the corridor outside my room with a giant insubstantial psychic tongue. This is not quite accurate either -- the tongue isn't wet, and it can feel inside things, but it's closer than thinking of my ability as X-ray vision. Anyway, my visitor was male, and much too short to be Magneto or Tom or Sam, ergo it was Doug. I unlocked the door without getting off the bed -- no need to rush showing off my power -- and yelled, "It's open." "Hi," he said. "Do you know what time it is?" "_Not_ Howdy Doody time?" I said, glancing over at the clock, which said 5:55. "Nope, Dinner. Unless you have other unrevealed powers that allow you to go long periods without nourishment." I gave him a hard look. "Listen," I said. "I really, really apologize for being deceptive." "C'mon, I was trying to make a _joke_ out of it," he said. "Lighten up! Between you and Dani there's going to be no living around here." "I'm sorry, Doug," I said, and he laughed. "You sound like a broken record, you really do," he said. "Get out of this guilt trip, already. My feelings have been but lightly bruised. If I was in your shoes I'd've done the same thing." "Really?" I said. "_For sure_," he said. "Let's go, I'm hungry." I took my by now accustomed place the far end of the dinner table from Magneto, near Sharon and Tom. Nobody said anything cutting to me, though I did notice Dani took a seat at the opposite end, Rahne loyally following in her wake. It was Sam's night to cook, and he did a workmanlike performance with spaghetti carbonara. I didn't join in the conversation, which on Magneto's end was raging over the Presidential election. Amusingly enough, Amara was all for the Republicans because of their name. I bet she prefers the Senate to the House of Representatives for the same reason. I was waiting for a natural lull in the conversation and when it came I almost couldn't find my voice. Nonetheless, I stood up and said, "Since everyone is here, I'd like to apologize to everyone for deceiving you as to what I can do. Hiding who I am has been necessary for survival, and it's an awful hard habit to give up. I hope you'll let me work to earn your respect back. Thanks." I sat down and looked around the table. Nobody but Dani looked angry, Rahne looked over at her, upset. "That was well-spoken, Jessica," Magneto said in the pause that followed. "As long as I have your attention, students, I received an interesting communication from the White Queen." There was a general stir at this. I'd been somewhat filled in on the past history of the Hellfire Club, and her Hellions -- mutant students at the school she ran. I was also intrigued. "It seems that next Friday, the Massachusetts Academy will be having a semi-formal dance. The Hellions will be attend, and would like you to join them. Am I correct in assuming you would care to do so?" There was general assent among the New Mutants. "As you know, you are all grounded due to your unauthorized expedition this week. I realize you are all anxious due to the continued absence of Roberto and Warlock, and your ... 'adventure' occurred as a natural result of the desire to remedy the situation. However serendipitous the outcome of your expedition -- I am not slighting Jessica's rescue -- that outcome does not excuse the foolhardiness of venturing into enemy ground when a dangerous situation is known to exist." "Since I am inclined to hope you might have learned a lesson from all this, and perhaps from the problematical goodness of my own heart, I will lift your grounding as of next Friday, pending your continued good behavior." There was a general murmur around the table. "It's semi-formal, we have to go _shopping_," said Dani. "Just like her to push it," Doug whispered to me. Magneto coolly nodded. "That is an important detail," he said. "Sharon, would you offer your services as an escort on a shopping expedition sometime between now and next Friday?" Sharon looked thoughtful. "Oh, _please_, Sharon," said Illyana. "I was just trying to figure out _when_," she said. "I could fit a trip to the mall in on Sunday, if that would be all right--?" There was general assent and then the meal was back underway. "There's the matter of what you consider 'good behavior,'" said Dani. Magneto gave her a long look. "Danielle," he said, "I could write a rule book detailing all the circumstances that would constitute 'bad' behavior, and you would still find ways to split hairs. In the future, just ask yourself, 'Would my headmaster consider this an unwise course of action?' If the answer is yes, I suggest you take the hint." "And what if the answer is no, and I guessed wrong?" she said. "Make a good enough case to me as to why you acted in such a manner, and I will strive to be fair," he said. "I understand there is a medal given to soldiers who disobey orders, thus performing a valuable service to their unit. Consider yourself the recipient of such a medal." * * * It was my turn to clear the dishes, my first rotation. As people lingered over dessert -- Magneto and Dani and Amara were still discussing what constituted good behavior, with Rahne as a spectator -- I gathered up an armload and headed through the swinging door to the kitchen. The room was deserted, so I lifted my armload of dishes over the disposal, scraped them off and sent them flying over in turn to the open dishwasher. "Ah got another bunch for you," said Sam, coming through the door. "Thanks," I said. "Tain't nothin,'" he said gallantly. "I seen how you don't shirk to help when it's someone else's turn. Can't do no less." He put the stack down and scratched his head. "Weren't there more dishes?" As I tried to come up with an answer that didn't sound like boasting, Illyana came in carrying two glasses and the butter dish. I went to the sink and turned on the water, started scraping the plates. "You can stack these in the dishwasher," I said to Sam and handed him the first one. "You know you can do better than that," said Illyana behind me. I turned and she tossed the first glass with a nice slow softball pitch towards me. I fielded it with just the tiniest touch of TK. "Much better," she said, and tossed the next one, overhand and hard. "Hey!" I said. It was a curveball -- or rather, curveglass -- so I 'grabbed' it and and brought it to my left hand. "Look, Ma --" said Illyana with a happy grin, "-- no hands!" She tossed the butter dish right down the middle. With both my hands full I stopped it in mid-air. I gave her the withering Look my mother had often used on me. "What do you think you're doing?" I said acidly. "Getting you to show off," she said. "Now I know what happened to the dishes," Sam said. "I really don't want to bother people," I said quietly. I opened the fridge and lifted the butter dish inside. Then I physically turned back to the sink and put the glasses down. "You mean you can do the whole load in no time at all?" said Sam. "I don't mind doing it this way," I said. "Well, if you're holding back because you think you'll make us uncomfortable, that's not so. And Ah'd just as soon have you do it the fast way, 'cause Ah'm not crazy about doing dishes." "Well, who is, anyway?" I said. I took a deep breath, thinking _Mother always liked to watch me do this_. I zinged the dishes through the air, over the disposal for scraping and rinse and then straight into the dishwasher, like they were on a little assembly line or something. Sam and Illyana watched with big smiles. "Shoot, Ah wish Ah could do dishes that easy," said Sam. "I wish you could too," I said. "I wish everybody had telekinesis, it's fun. And then I wouldn't be a freak of nature." I finished up by doing a White Tornado effect on the pots and pans with soapy water from the sink. "How do you make things twist around with your mind?" said Illyana. "It's easy, you just..." I trailed off. The trouble with English is that it doesn't have words to describe what I do. "Well, it isn't that hard," I finished lamely. Amara came through the door carrying the coffee cups and dessert dishes. "This is the last of -- " she said, and stared open-mouthed at the tiny waterspout dancing with a cooking pot in mid-air. My TK doesn't involve any visible effects, so it's eerie to see things just hanging there, I suppose. I watched from my seat at the kitchen table as a slow smile came over her face. "I have never seen kitchen utensils clean themselves before," she said, "though I have often wished they would." That kind of broke the ice, at least as far as we were concerned. Before I knew it I was juggling pots and pans in the air -- I can handle quite a few things at a time. Of course, I can also step on the brake and the clutch, move the stick shift, steer and keep my eye on the road at the same time. It's just a matter of practice. They all insisted on staying until the dishwasher had finished running so they could see me zing all the dishes away. "My childhood heroine was always Mary Poppins," I said. "Mother insisted I came from a long line of nannies." * * * I decided not to push it any further by joining the TV crowd, and headed up to my room for some studying and bed. Dani had shoved her xeroxed notes for the day under the door; thus neatly avoiding having to talk to me. Okay, if that's the way she wanted to play it, I'd go along. The tide was against her, anyway. I didn't study much. All things considered it had been an exhausting day, and I got to sleep early. I woke up early as a direct consequence. So at 6 AM I got up and went jogging before breakfast. I didn't leave the estate; there were several miles worth of trails to run on. It was a misty October morning and the trees were just beginning to turn color. There weren't a lot of leaves underfoot yet, but already the underbrush was shedding. It was just cold enough for breath to show in little white puffs. I didn't bother to shed my jacket when I'd gotten warmed up -- I never overheat or sweat from exertion, a weird bonus from my mutant power. I'd done about five miles all told and I was feeling pretty loose as I headed along the shoreline on the home stretch. There's a big cove just before you get to the mansion, and you end up running 'way out of your way. I was feeling pretty sparky; it was misty and lonely and I was on private property, so I left the shore and ran on top of the water towards the distant edge of the cove. There was a heavy silence on the lake because of the mist; you could hear the soft whisper of the waves and my breathing. I was legitimately running too, the only use of my TK was to hold the water firm where my feet touched. Even so it was like running on sand or some uneven surface; quite the workout. I was almost to the far shore when I noticed a figure sitting peacefully on the rocks on the point. I had time for a quick glimpse and then I instinctively dove for cover beneath the water, taking a bubble of air down with me. I was dry in my little telekinetic cocoon 20 feet down at the bottom of the lake. I thought over what I'd seen and concluded I knew who had seen me; there aren't many white haired guys in purple capes wandering around Westchester; at least I sincerely hope there aren't. One seemed more than enough. With that came the realization that I couldn't very well stay down on the bottom of the lake. Sooner or later I'd have to come in. I could play submarine and sneak away, but Magneto had surely spotted me and could probably tell where I was by radar or microwaves or something. Better say "Hi" and get it over with. So I moved closer, the water was deep until it hit the rocky little hill that made the point. Keeping in mind that it wasn't a wise idea to get the Master of Magnetism agitated, I rose slowly into the air in front of him, my hands in plain sight. Water cascaded off the surface of the bubble, and I released it very slowly so that it kind of peeled off. I lifted forward through the air and set down on a rock about five feet from Magneto. "Bravo," he said, clapping quietly, a slight smile on his usually severe face. He was dressed in an outfit I'd seen on the news before, purple, with white gloves and white boots, much better than that pink monstrosity. "First a walk across the water, then Venus rising from the waves. You may be mixing your mythologies, but as a consequence I am now well along on my list of ten impossible things to believe before breakfast." "Glad I helped make your day," I said after a pause, then I turned to walk away. "Jessica," he said, and the way he said it was a command to turn and face him. So I did. "You will be sharing a house with me for the next month. How do you propose to gain any benefit from it if you cannot spend five minutes in polite conversation with me?" He gestured toward an adjacent sitting-rock an arm's length away. Okay, so he was right. I took a deep breath and sat on the rock, looked out over the misty lake. You could hear ducks quacking in the distance. "You fly beautifully," he said. "In many ways your mastery of your power is amazing." "I used to sneak out and fly around town at night," I said. "Hardly anyone looks up when it's dark, but I used to wait for overcast nights and dress in black so no one could see. I kept getting lost, though." "Navigation is an art in itself," he said. "Generally I monitor the airline frequencies and orient myself in that manner." "One time I got turned around on Route 45 and ended up in Akron. I flew around until dawn trying to find the way back -- I only had road maps for Cincinnati. I finally had to land and call my foster parents. _They_ thought I'd been out hitch-hiking and I caught hell for it. But it was easier than explaining how I'd really got to Akron." I sneaked a glance over at him and saw that he was smiling slightly. "It wasn't very funny at the time," I said. "I was thinking, how sad a world it is where a teenager cannot indulge in a harmless ...escapade. Although, had your foster parents known of your abilities they might not have permitted such travels." "What I really needed was flight school," I said. I could see him smiling out of the corner of my eye. "Ever tried to tell how high you are by using a barometer and a calculator?" "I use radar these days," he said mildly. "However, a barometer would provide an accurate enough reading." "Yeah, well, I was only trying to ball park it anyway," I said. Even telling _Magneto_ about these things was a weird kind of fun. Try going two years without telling a soul about the incredibly neat things you can do, and you'd burble away to your worst enemy too, I'd bet. "I never did get an accurate idea of how fast I could go," I said. The way I got lost in Akron was, I was going to time myself on a stretch of highway I knew pretty well. But I overshot it by a gross amount and I was over unfamiliar ground so fast." Magneto looked out at the mist. "Perhaps we could set up the Danger Room as a wind tunnel," he said. "What for -- lessons in running away?" I said. "A strategic retreat is not the equivalent of surrender," he said. "Noemi would have taught you as much." "Yeah, she was a good teacher," I said. It didn't register that _he'd_ said her name until he shifted on his rock to face me directly. "I'd like to talk to you about your mother," Magneto said softly, his expression absolutely unreadable. "No!" I almost shouted, surprised by my own vehemence. "I never want to hear her name on your lips, you --- " God damn, I couldn't think of anything awful enough to call him. I'd floated up and away into the air. My hands were trembling; I was so angry and scared. Magneto had risen to his feet and stood watching me, a carefully neutral expression on his face. "All in good time," he said. A breeze was blowing faintly, and his cape fluttered just a tiny bit. I couldn't take it any more so I made a strategic retreat, straight up into the air over the mansion, just high enough to lose everything in the mist and have to go hunting around. Luckily my flight had been in a straight line and I found Graymalkin Lane almost immediately. I skulked among the treetops whenever cars went by and made my way back to the house without causing any accidents. No one seemed to be around, so I landed just outside. I should have looked closer; Tom was putting a garbage can away under the overhang and jumped when I landed practically next to him. I land fast, it's rather like having someone pop up (or down, as the case was) beside you. "Sorry," I said, as he blinked at me. "It's, ah, okay," he said, and grinned a big grin. "Glad you could drop in on us for breakfast." * * * End of Chapter Three * * * to be continued in Kid Dynamo Chapter Four: "This is Your Life" This story (c) 1992 Connie Hirsch The New Mutants, Magneto, the Hellions, 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. .