Read Online Sanctuary by Christopher Golden - Free Book Online
Authors: Christopher Golden
Tags: Science-Fiction, adventure, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Comics & Graphic Novels, mutant, X-Men
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whispered in his mind. I promise you it's not.
They embraced, and Scott was distracted by the odd crinkle of his pressure suit. Sweat trickled down his back, the heat of the ship only magnified by the additional layers.
"Come on, Jean," he said finally. "Help me get the helmet on, so I can make sure the Personal Atmosphere Unit is functioning properly. In fact, everybody should probably get into these suits, just in case something really goes wrong while we're outside. If the life support systems were to fail, you all need to be ready."
"Excellent plan, Scott," Corsair said from the open hatchway, and Scott bit back the urge to ask how long his father had been standing there.
"Everybody set, Corsair?" he asked instead, and his father shot him the thumbs up sign. Back to business, now. No room there for "son" and "dad." But, Scott thought, it was pleasant while it lasted.
"Roger that," Corsair said, nodding. "Raza and Ch'od are all suited up. Now if we can just tear Rogue away from Gambit's side for a moment, we might actually be able to keep this ship from melting into slag around us."
Corsair was smiling, but Scott could see the worry in his father's eyes, about their predicament, and about Rogue's reliability. Scott made it his policy not to delve too deeply into the personal lives of the XcMen, particularly those relatively new to the team, but Scott also thought he was a fairly observant guy. How it happened, he had no idea, and he wasn't certain about the rest of the team, but he hadn't even noticed the relationship between Gambit and Rogue developing. One day it just seemed to appear to him, full bloom, and then a lot of little things had begun to make sense.
Now, though, his job was to make sure that the relationship between his two teammates didn't compromise their job. In the end, he didn't think it would. All of their lives were at stake, and Rogue, headstrong though she unquestionably was, had always come through in a pinch before.
"You want me to speak with her, Scott?" Jean asked, beside him, obviously sensing his hesitation.
"Thanks, but no," he answered. "Part of the job. I need you to focus fully on backing us up while we're out there. Anything goes wrong, you're our only safety measure."
"You got it," Jean said, nearly in a whisper, and leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
She helped snap his helmet into place. It was constructed of an expanding mesh alloy of Shi'ar design. Rather than the traditional face plate, the helmet's front section was wide open. When the final latch was closed, and the Personal Atmosphere Unit began to function, a force shield materialized in front of Scott's face. It was impervious to solids, and yet it allowed Scott's exhaled carbon dioxide to leave the suit even as it processed oxygen in from the depths of space. Fortunately, it would also allow his solar-based optic beams to pass through without breaching the containment of the suit. No matter how often he was exposed to it, Scott could only marvel at the technology of the Shi'ar.
Scott, Jean, and Corsair made their way toward the main cabin. They passed Raza and Ch'od, who were moving to the back of the ship to get at the airlocks. Hushed words were exchanged between the two Starjammers and their captain, then Corsair smiled at Scott and Jean, and they continued on.
In the main cabin, Archangel paced nervously, bobbing his head slightly with pent up energy. Scott wasn't sure if Warren was even aware of the way his bio-metallic wings ruffled, spreading slightly, when he was on edge. Back when he was just called the Angel, Scott recalled, Warren's real, natural wings had done the same thing. It was comforting, yet at the same time, disturbing, that the wings, which often seemed to have some kind of sentience, were so closely tied to Warren's psyche.
"Hey," Scott said, quietly enough so that only Archangel could hear. "You okay, Warren?"
"Little cabin fever is all, Slim," Archangel answered, using Scott's
They embraced, and Scott was distracted by the odd crinkle of his pressure suit. Sweat trickled down his back, the heat of the ship only magnified by the additional layers.
"Come on, Jean," he said finally. "Help me get the helmet on, so I can make sure the Personal Atmosphere Unit is functioning properly. In fact, everybody should probably get into these suits, just in case something really goes wrong while we're outside. If the life support systems were to fail, you all need to be ready."
"Excellent plan, Scott," Corsair said from the open hatchway, and Scott bit back the urge to ask how long his father had been standing there.
"Everybody set, Corsair?" he asked instead, and his father shot him the thumbs up sign. Back to business, now. No room there for "son" and "dad." But, Scott thought, it was pleasant while it lasted.
"Roger that," Corsair said, nodding. "Raza and Ch'od are all suited up. Now if we can just tear Rogue away from Gambit's side for a moment, we might actually be able to keep this ship from melting into slag around us."
Corsair was smiling, but Scott could see the worry in his father's eyes, about their predicament, and about Rogue's reliability. Scott made it his policy not to delve too deeply into the personal lives of the XcMen, particularly those relatively new to the team, but Scott also thought he was a fairly observant guy. How it happened, he had no idea, and he wasn't certain about the rest of the team, but he hadn't even noticed the relationship between Gambit and Rogue developing. One day it just seemed to appear to him, full bloom, and then a lot of little things had begun to make sense.
Now, though, his job was to make sure that the relationship between his two teammates didn't compromise their job. In the end, he didn't think it would. All of their lives were at stake, and Rogue, headstrong though she unquestionably was, had always come through in a pinch before.
"You want me to speak with her, Scott?" Jean asked, beside him, obviously sensing his hesitation.
"Thanks, but no," he answered. "Part of the job. I need you to focus fully on backing us up while we're out there. Anything goes wrong, you're our only safety measure."
"You got it," Jean said, nearly in a whisper, and leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
She helped snap his helmet into place. It was constructed of an expanding mesh alloy of Shi'ar design. Rather than the traditional face plate, the helmet's front section was wide open. When the final latch was closed, and the Personal Atmosphere Unit began to function, a force shield materialized in front of Scott's face. It was impervious to solids, and yet it allowed Scott's exhaled carbon dioxide to leave the suit even as it processed oxygen in from the depths of space. Fortunately, it would also allow his solar-based optic beams to pass through without breaching the containment of the suit. No matter how often he was exposed to it, Scott could only marvel at the technology of the Shi'ar.
Scott, Jean, and Corsair made their way toward the main cabin. They passed Raza and Ch'od, who were moving to the back of the ship to get at the airlocks. Hushed words were exchanged between the two Starjammers and their captain, then Corsair smiled at Scott and Jean, and they continued on.
In the main cabin, Archangel paced nervously, bobbing his head slightly with pent up energy. Scott wasn't sure if Warren was even aware of the way his bio-metallic wings ruffled, spreading slightly, when he was on edge. Back when he was just called the Angel, Scott recalled, Warren's real, natural wings had done the same thing. It was comforting, yet at the same time, disturbing, that the wings, which often seemed to have some kind of sentience, were so closely tied to Warren's psyche.
"Hey," Scott said, quietly enough so that only Archangel could hear. "You okay, Warren?"
"Little cabin fever is all, Slim," Archangel answered, using Scott's
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