Shi’mor…the falcon of fire, the Phoenix…
She was hungry. The nuclei fusing at her core burned with the hunger of new life. The transmutation was complete; the star and the human girl, Jean Grey, had become one. Every strand of DNA curled within each cell of the tiny Earthling’s body was imbued with cosmic light. The promethean entity was fire made flesh; power incarnate.
Searching for sustenance, she gazed at her stellar companion, M’Kraan. The two suns were formed simultaneously from the collapse of a giant molecular nebula. Phoenix could taste the succulent energy of her roiling, fiery twin. Her sibling was no more alive than an inert gas cloud; M’Kraan would never think, never breathe, and never feel.
Flaming talons tore into the heart of the nonconscious solar mass. Bathing in gushing streams of matter and antimatter, Phoenix gorged herself. She now shone as bright as a supernova. M’Kraan, reduced to a millionth of her former size, was a dim white dwarf, aged prematurely ten billion years. The diminished star’s once blinding corona had been stripped away; only a faint, flickering layer of residual hydrogen covered her solidifying remains. But a new power germinated deep inside the hardening carbon, where a shimmering lattice-work grew into a single, glowing crystal.
A hundred and fifty million kilometers away, a small planet suddenly began to cool. Its molten surface congealed. Clouds escaping M’Kraan’s shrunken carcass, containing oxygen, argon and carbon dioxide, penetrated the nitrogen-rich atmosphere of the orbiting rock. Phoenix watched the creatures evolving in the newly formed, churning seas; they would soon worship her. Calling her Shi’mor, the falcon of fire, they would name themselves Shi’ar, the falcon people.
“It’s rather hard on your vision, gazing at the sun like that.”
Someone was talking to her. The male voice pronounced ‘rather’ with a broad ‘a’ sound. He must be English. She looked down. His light gray eyes glimmered below. Where was she? The grand marble columns of the Low Memorial Library lay before her. She was in the middle of the University campus, floating five feet above the soft grass of the quad. Close to a hundred students, stopped in their tracks, were staring at her. Was she at least wearing clothes? Yes. Okay, maybe she could handle this.
The gray-eyed Englishman reached out to her. “Care for some assistance?”
She took his hand and let him pull her to the ground. Unlike everyone else surrounding her, she sensed no fear coming from him. “Thank you,” she said, feeling dizzy.
“My name’s Peter.”
“I’m Jean.” The spinning sensation slowed.
“Yes. I think everyone knows who you are.”
“Thanks for your help, Peter.” Checking her shoulder, she was relieved to discover her laptop case was still hanging on her arm. She patted the sides of her adamantium fiber jacket. “I better get to my class.” She motioned in the direction of the Fermi Building.
“We’re going to the same place. I’m headed there as well.”
“Oh. Good.” They began walking together. Jean knew she should be suspicious, but she was enjoying this strange young man’s company. He radiated confidence and contentment; she imagined he’d had the most wonderful childhood and everything in his life was perfect. He made her feel safe.
“Were you working on an intense formulation back there?” he asked. “You appeared lost in thought.”
Jean hesitated before responding. “This is going to sound really weird. I don’t know what just happened to me. I was remembering a dream I had last night, it seemed so real… I guess I forgot about everything else.”
“Well, what I saw was quite extraordinary. We don’t have girls like you in the UK.”
Jean halted; she faced Peter’s gray eyes. She had to find out. Was she endangering thousands of people in her immediate vicinity?
“Did I catch fire?” she asked.
He raised an eyebrow. “Catch fire? Like flames or something?”
“Yes. Did you see flames?”
“No... Should I be concerned about that sort of thing with you?”
“Probably.” Jean moved towards the entrance of the Fermi Building.
He followed her. “That’s remarkable.”
Once inside, they were ushered into one of the waiting, human-operated elevators. Peter requested the conductor take them to the 12th floor, which was also Jean’s destination.
“Are you in Professor Steiner’s seminar?” She’d never seen him in class.
“I’m supposed to have been there for several minutes by now. Actually, I’ve already missed two weeks, so five, ten minutes…” The elevator doors parted. They hurried down the hall.
“Here’s the room.” Jean opened the door.
Jacob Steiner noticed their arrival. “If the Scharnhorst effect is quantifiable, are we still living in Einstein’s universe?” He paused. “Please excuse me everyone, I believe Miss Grey has finally decided to join us this morning.”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” said Jean, meekly.
“I’m afraid it’s my fault,” Peter began, “I didn’t know where the room was. Jean was kind enough to guide me…”
“How interesting.” Steiner cut him off. “Class, meet Mr. Peter Wyngarde. He is an exchange student from Cambridge. And if he hadn’t been personally recommended by my esteemed colleague, Professor Markowich, he would not be joining us today.”
“Hello.” Peter took a seat next to Jean.
“Let’s return to my question. If Scharnhorst is right, must Einstein be wrong?”
“Not necessarily…” Jean answered.
“So, you actually did your homework? You’ve waltzed in here with proof, Miss Grey?”
“Um, Einstein relies on a procedure of clock synchronization based on photonic signals. So what if we synchronized the clocks in an alternative way? We could shift the frame of reference…”
“That’s quite an original approach. We must all be witnessing the ramifications of Scharnhorst’s experiments right now, class. Jean has obviously traveled faster than the speed of light and experienced the future. She’s just said precisely what I was about to explain. Oh, wait a minute. Miss Grey, you’re playing with the rest of us, aren’t you? It’s not fair to read your instructor’s mind.”
Jean stood up, her eyes flashing, “Professor Steiner, if I were going to use my telepathy I wouldn’t need to spend a moment longer in this classroom. I could know all you know, learn every single thing you’ve ever thought, and suffer and celebrate every second of your life, in less time than it took me to say this. Don’t presume to understand me. If you think I’m cheating, let’s go to the Dean.”
“Thank you, Miss Grey. You may sit down.” Steiner narrowed his eyes at her.
Jean sank into her chair. Her consciousness was instantly racked by waves of fear and anger, some cresting at the peak of hatred, surging from Steiner and the other students. She had never felt such contempt. Their inner words grew louder, tearing through her psychic shield.
Who the hell do you think you are?
You don’t belong here! You should be locked up…
For the first time in months, she wished Scott was with her. Back in May, when her ordinary classmates at Bayville High learned that she and the rest of the kids who lived at the Institute were mutants, Jean’s life as the school’s favorite female athlete and award-winning scholar came to an abrupt end. Unlike many others with the ‘X’ gene, she had always appeared normal. Being suddenly shunned and singled out during the last days of her senior year had come as a shock. She was the Student Council President and had been voted girls’ soccer MVP, now none of that mattered. The general public considered her a dangerous abnormal creature.
She hadn’t endured it by herself. Kitty, Evan, Rogue, and eventually Kurt, had been by her side. Yet no one had supported her more than Scott. Few regular people had ever accepted Summers; so he wasn’t surprised to see non-mutant friends turning away. But he was outraged when Jean was viciously accused by her former teammates and Principal Kelly of secretly using her powers to win soccer matches and straight A’s. Entering Scott’s mind, Grey was touched. Though he didn’t care what anyone outside the Xavier Institute thought of himself, he was infuriated by the treatment she was receiving. Scott’s protective arm around her shoulders gave her strength as they walked through the hallways pelted by jeers and hisses. She wouldn’t have made it without him.
Today she was alone, among a hostile group of normal humans who were ready to lock her up and throw away the key. A single voice cut through the chorus of condemnation:
Jean, if only I could help you.
It was Peter Wyngarde.
She turned to look at him. He seemed amused. She was puzzled at first. Did he find her situation funny? Then his infectious smile spread to her own face. His thoughts sang in her brain.
You are magnificent, Miss Grey.
As are you, Mr. Wyngarde.