CHAPTER 61 THE WALL OF STARS
The void swallowed Logan's breath. The hole he carved in the wall was no escape, just a window to infinity. Stars burned cold, sharp as knives, scattered across endless black. Jean stood frozen beside him, lips parted, her heartbeat a frantic drum Logan could smell pounding in her chest.
Banshee clutched Xavier tighter, his voice breaking. "Sweet Lord... we're off the bloody planet..."
Logan's claws retracted slow. His growl was low, feral. "Whoever dragged us up here... they're dead men walkin'."
Jean whispered, "Lang..."
But before her thought could finish, the sound of metal on metal echoed through the chamber. Sentinels moving again, deeper in the station. The fight wasn't done. Logan squared his shoulders, nostrils flaring.
'Later. Later I'll rip answers outta Lang's hide. Right now-we stay alive.'
Westchester.
The war room hummed with Cerebro's dim afterglow, Scott still pacing like a caged wolf. His fists were raw from pounding the console. Storm stood close but silent, her eyes dark with a storm brewing.
The door burst open. Peter Corbeau stumbled in, his clothes still wrinkled and damp. Nightcrawler padded behind him, yellow eyes narrowed, tail flicking like a whip.
Scott whirled. "Talk. NOW."
Corbeau adjusted his glasses, his voice tense, rushed. "You're chasing shadows. Cerebro can't find them because they're not on Earth."
Scott's hand slammed down on the table. "Then WHERE?"
Corbeau held up a badge, slick and official, stamped with government clearance. "Your professor left me access. NORAD. Valhalla base. Their archives track every Sentinel project, every scrap of metal they've moved in the last decade. If we can match origins to destinations, we'll know exactly where your people were taken."
Storm's eyes narrowed. "And what of Charles's clearance?"
Corbeau's mouth twisted grim. "Still active. Still powerful enough to open the doors."
Scott grabbed him by the shoulder, dragging him toward the exit. His voice was raw, blazing. "Then we MOVE. Now."
The team followed, boots heavy on the mansion floor. Thunderbird cracked his knuckles, a dark grin playing on his lips.
"About time. I'm tired of sitting."
Corbeau glanced back once as they left, his voice quieter. "You'd better be ready for what we find. The Sentinels weren't built to guard this world... they were built to leave it."
The NORAD Valhalla base was a bunker of steel and silence. Security lights cast everything in cold green. Soldiers eyed the team as they passed, but no one dared stop them. Not with Charles Xavier's clearance code burning like a brand in the computer core.
Scott sat at the console, visor glowing in the dim light. His hands hovered over the keys, stiff with tension. Corbeau leaned beside him, guiding. "Search by material transport. Look for shipments marked Sentinel framework, alloy composites."
Lines of data bled across the screens, endless columns of numbers and locations. Scott scrolled, jaw tight, his breath short. Storm stood behind him, silent, her fingers resting on the back of his chair.
Thunderbird growled. "This is a damn waste of time. We should be smashing their factories, not staring at numbers."
"SHUT UP" Scott snapped, eyes locked on the screen. He froze. "There. Right there. Shipment origin: Bolivar Trask's private foundries. Destination..." His throat caught. "Starcore One."
The name hung in the air like a curse.
Corbeau adjusted his glasses. "Starcore. NASA's orbital research station. If the Sentinels are there, that's where they've taken your people."
Scott's hands curled into fists. His voice was flat, deadly. "Then that's where we're going."
Sunfire crossed his arms, a flicker of firelight in his eyes. "You think NASA will hand you a rocket? Fool."
Corbeau almost smirked. "They'll hand me one. I'm not just some passenger, Sunfire. I built half the systems they fly. They owe me favors."
Storm tilted her head. "And will they overlook a squad of mutants boarding their ship?"
"Not if we're quiet."
Scott stood, shoulders squared. "No more waiting. We suit up. Corbeau, get us a ship."
The team's eyes flickered one by one. Storm's calm intensity. Colossus's quiet unease. Thunderbird's feral smirk. Sunfire's silent fire. Nightcrawler's glowing stare.
The commander was back. Cyclops had fire in his veins again.
Scott turned, visor gleaming. "Jean, Logan, Charles, Banshee. They're alive. We're bringing them home."