2014.01.04 - Where In Chandilar Is Christopher Summers?

The briefing room aboard the Starjammer is like something out of a science fiction film.

A large, holographic display in the center of the room casts up a three-dimensional rendition of a planet that is decidedly not Earth rotating slowly. The entire crew, save their kidnapped leader, stand about the room as Scott and Jean enter.

Ch'od follows the pair into the room, the hulking lizard man edging past them to set about introducing the others present.

"This is Hepzibah," he gestures to an undeniably feline woman resting languidly in a chair, raising a hand to wave at them.

"You have already met Raza Longknife," the half-cybernetic orange-skinned alien from their abduction offers a nod of his head.

An odd yipping sound suddenly fills the air as a long-nosed, white-furred creature climbs up Ch'od's side and perches on his shoulder. It cranes it's neck to eye the pair warily.

"And this is Cr'reee."

Jean glances to Scott as they enter the briefing room and are introduced around. He's the one who's spent more time with these folks than she has. Still, they're not about to abandon Corsair. She nods in greeting to the crew, and offers a small, reserved smile.

"So," she says, once the introductions have been properly made, "Exactly what are we looking at, here?"

“The Shi'ar Throneworld,” Raza declares, gesturing at the holographic planetoid, “Chandilar.”

Scott takes a step closer to the display, remaining close by Jean as he watches the red-light appear in orbit around the display.

“Know Corsair here,” Hepzibah chimes in, standing up and walking to the display, “But many prisons. Unsure which.”

“That is where you come in,” Ch'od intones, stepping forward to loom over Scott and Jean.

"Chandilar," Jean echoes. The Shi'ar. She glances to Scott again, a bit of tension in her shoulders. She doesn't exactly have a history of the best experiences with the Shi'ar, after all. "That's not exactly a walk in the park."

She gives the other X-Man a look that more-or-less says, 'It's your call, Slim.' It's still his father, after all.

Nevertheless, she glances to the others. "What do we need to do?"

“Summers DNA,” Hepzibah explains, wandering around the display to stand alongside Scott, “Fuel for tracker.”

Raza steps around to Jean's side, effectively boxing the pair in with the holographic display in front of them.

“What do you mean?” Scott asks, turning warily on the spot when he realizes their situation.

Summers DNA. And a tracker. So... what? They just need a sample of Scott's blood? Jean frowns slightly. She looks up at the towering alien looming over them and a telekinetic sheild somehow manages to surround they two. Because, seriously, if that lizard thing things he's taking a pint of Scott's blood without his consent, he's got another think coming.

“Peace,” Ch'od says quietly, raising his hands palm-outward, “My friends, our intimidation is unfounded. Corsair's son has already assented to helping us.”

Hepzibah and Raza dutifully step away, returning to their places alongside the projector as Ch'od holds out a device in the palm of one gigantic hand. It is a silver ball, completely seamless and polished to a mirror sheen. He holds it out to Scott.

“Please. Take this.”

With the telekinetic shield in place, Scott holds up a hand to show he's willing to take the ball while at the same time glancing at Jean.

Jean's expression is wary, but she trusts Scott enough to let him take the risk. She lowers the shield, but keeps her eyes on the ones that were trying to intimidate them. This is why she hates dealing with aliens. She doesn't hate aliens. She just hates dealing with them in situations like this. Everything is so... unpredictable. There's only so much she can read in an alien's mind, after all.

When the shield is lowered, Scott reaches out and takes the ball from Ch'od's palm.

He holds it for a moment, looking at it curiously as nothing happens. Then, without warning, thin blue lines like the pattern of a circuit board begin to crack it's pristine surface. They glow from within, tracing away from the points where Scott's fingerprints touch the ball.

“Argh!”

Scott lets out a shout all of a sudden, dropping the ball and sending it rolling away across the deck. He collapses to his knees before toppling to one side, his mind reeling at a million miles a minute. His consciousness full of a thousand different memories of places, people and things passing by at impossible speeds. At first they are memories of Earth, though decades old, but quickly they are replaced by alien sights and sounds like he has never seen before.

He lies on his side, convulsing as his mind is overwhelmed by the device.

"Scott!" Jean's reaction is immediate and, to some degree, predictable. She's on her knees beside him almost instantly, telekinetically snatching the ball from his hand and sending it flying against a nearby bulkhead. Her hands catch him, trying to keep him from hurting himself as he convulses. She pulls him to her, cradling him, her telepathic mind immediately reaching out for his. As she senses those images, feels the overwhelming tide, she has to throw up enough blocks to keep her own mind from being overwhelmed. Then, she starts to erect a dam in his do to the same thing.

She's angry now, however, at what they've done to her best friend. And Phoenix is not someone anyone should anger.

Just as quickly as the myriad of sights and sounds flooded through Scott's mind, they have stopped. Jean's telepathic blocks do their job. He remains silent and still, cradled in her arms as the silver ball bounces off the wall and rolls to a stop beneath Raza's foot. The alien stoops to pick it up, looking down curiously at the unconscious Scott.

"It is a device made for the Shi'ar," Ch'od explains, taking a step back to give the pair some room, "It is not designed for human minds ... "

"If he is possessed of the same fortitude as his sire," Raza adds, "Then this shall be naught but a momentary setback."

"You could have warned us," Jean snaps to Ch'od in reply. She's quickly running out of patience with all this. First they interrupt her Christmas Eve. Now, they've just about sent Scott into catatonia. "I could have tempered it." As opposed to having her own temper rise.

"What the hell has any of this to do with Summers' DNA." And why the hell does everyone want Summers DNA, for that matter... though that last thought stays unvoiced. Still, first Sinister, now this?

And here she thought she'd have time to rest. So much for that idea.

“The device was left to us by Corsair in the event that we lost contact with him,” Ch'od explains, looking as apologetic as a lizard man can look.

“Unsure how Shi'ar-device work,” Hepzibah chimes in, “Link between broodmates. Corsair said would show us where he is.”

“But he chose not to enlighten us as to how,” Raza finishes, arching a brow at the unconscious X-Man.

Jean is barely mollified by their answer. But, she's mollified enough. She rises, cradling Scott -- though most of his weight is in fact lifted telekinetically. She's no superwoman. "You have a medbay, I assume?" she says, an acerbic edge to her voice. It's going to take time for Scott to awaken, she's sure. Which means he needs somewhere he can rest. And she needs somewhere she can keep watch.

It would indeed take a long time for Scott to awaken were this situation normal. Scott's mind is blank and seems as though he is about as close as one can get to comatose without actually being there.

But then thoughts start flooding back. Not as fast an untempered as before, but quicker than Jean had guessed. It's as though unconsciousness was a sheet laid over him that has now been suddenly whipped away.

"Jean?"

Ch'od is in the middle of calling Sikorsky for a stretcher when Scott speaks, his voice thick and groggy. His eyes flicker open behind his glasses as the Starjammers lean forward to take a closer look.

Jean's arms flex around Scott some as he comes to. "Scott..." Her voice is much softer, more tender, with him than it is with the aliens. Perhaps understandably, so. She could still use that stretcher, mind. Or some place to lay him down. She opts for a nearby chair, setting him into it carefully and crouching beside him so she can look up at him, rather than down. "Are you okay?"

“Yeah,” Scott answers, shifting in the chair slightly and reaching out a hand to Jean's, “I – I know where Corsair is.”

“Where?” Hepzibah asks, darting forward until she's uncomfortably close to the pair of X-Men.

“You must tell us,” Ch'od adds, “We have no time to lose.”

What can Jean say to that? Other than 'back off and give the man some room!'... which she doesn't say. But, it's there at the front of her mind, and in the hardening lines of her expression. Yet, she remains patient, crouched beside Scott, watching him and brushing his mind with her own to ensure his well-being as the others press him for information.

Scott lifts his free hand to his face, rubbing his temples as he puts his words together in his head.

“Knew device would work,” Hepzibah purrs proudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Not perfectly, friend Hepzibah,” Raza adds, his brow furrowed, “It looks like it almost absconded with his senses!”

“Peace,” Ch'od insists, bringing quiet to the other Starjammers.

“It's bad,” Scott begins, shaking his head, “The security is tight. Like nothing I've ever seen. Guards on every possible entrance. Laser defense grid. It's the dungeon right below the Imperial Palace.”

He sits up, shakily climbing to his feet and looking to Jean.

“And we need to go right now. They're going to kill him.”