Planet X - Michael Jan Friedman [34]
They kept going until they had cleared out all six of the condemned buildings on the block. And each time they emptied one out, a bunch of transformed moved in. Finally, in accordance with Rahatan’s orders—which he sent through Paldul—Erid’s group settled in the last building themselves, with the understanding that a couple of their comrades were to join them.
Erid picked out a set of rooms near the north wall of the structure, where he was less likely to have to contend with light streaming in through the windows. He was pleased to find some furniture in the rooms, even if it was only a bed, a table, and a chair, none of which was in particularly good condition. And as Inarh had said, the water was still in service, though he had to let the faucet run for a while until the water lost its dirty, brown color.
He was just about to taste it when he heard a tapping at the door. Cautiously, he moved away from the wash basin and peered out into the anteroom. Someone was there, all right.
It was Corba.
She smiled. “Iwaswonderingifyoumightwantsome company.”
Erid didn’t know exactly what to say to that. After all, she had taken him by surprise.
“ItwasjustthatIfeltsolonelyinasetofroomsallbymyself, and … well,Ithoughtyoumightbefeelingthesameway.”
He nodded. “I was,” he said, though he really hadn’t had time to think about it. “Come on in.”
Corba did as he suggested. Then she shut the door behind her and looked around, her arms folded across her chest.
“There are two bedrooms,” Erid told her, trying to be helpful. “You can have whichever one you want.”
That’s when he noticed Corba was shivering.
He didn’t understand. It was warm down here in the city, even at night. Then it occurred to him it might have something to do with her power and the demands it made on her body.
“Idon’twanttobeabother,” she said apologetically, “butifyoucouldjustholdmeforawhile …”
Erid held her. In fact, he held her for a long time.
“Hmm,” said Dr. Crusher, studying the results of her latest scan on the overhead readout.
She didn’t like the look of them. Not at all.
Her patient, the X-Man known as Archangel, looked up at her from the biobed he was lying on. “Sounds ominous,” he told her.
To tell you the truth, she thought, it looks ominous. But, of course, she didn’t say that.
“It’s just something in your blood,” she replied.
“In my blood?” he echoed. “You mean, besides my bad, old mutant genes?”
The doctor smiled—or tried to. Picking up her tricorder from a nearby counter, she established a link with the biobed and downloaded the information that was bothering her. Then she showed it to her patient.
“See those green dots?” she asked.
Archangel examined the tricorder. “Uh huh.”
“Those represent traces of techno-organic material.” Crusher frowned. “They remind me of something I’ve seen before—in a cybernetically enhanced species called the Borg.”
The mutant shrugged. “Never heard of them.”
“They’re immensely powerful,” she explained. “They conquer other races and assimilate them into a shared-consciousness collective. If I were prone to nightmares, the Borg would be in all of them.”
“And now you’re wondering if the techno-organics in my bloodstream make me some kind of threat.”
She was impressed with his leap of logic. “It’s my job,” the doctor said, “to wonder about things like that.”
He dismissed the idea with a movement of his hand. “Don’t give it another thought. Some time ago, I was captured by a creep named Apocalypse. He severed my natural wings—if you can call having wings ‘natural’—and replaced them with razor-edged, techno-organic equivalents.”
As Archangel described the experience, his tone remained matter-of-fact—but Crusher noticed a flicker of pain in the mutant’s eyes. She imagined she knew why, too.
After all, his wings appeared to be an integral part of his anatomy—in the same way arms and legs were a part of anyone else’s. He must have suffered terrible trauma