Post by Trask on Aug 10, 2006 7:54:26 GMT -5
Three days after the Baltimore incident Bolivar Trask stood at ease outside the oval office. He had a neat case of files under his arm; the findings and observations of a fleet of analysts who had worked around the clock to provide answers to Trask's most pressing concerns. What had happened to Alpha Seven.
The second part of the file dealt with his proposals to counter further incidents of mutant terrorism. Proposals that he was sure the President would not like. But then that was why he was here today; to show the President that though he may not like them, they were altogether necessary.
Trask waited.
A few minutes later the office door opened and the President's secretary stepped out, "good morning secretary Trask," she greeted brightly, "the President will see you now."
"Thankyou," he nodded and went inside.
"Good morning Mr. President," Bolivar greeted the older man seated behind the desk as he entered. There was a click as the door was closed behind him and Trask relaxed by a tiny fraction. He never was entirely comfortable here, but the President hadn't seen the need for a meeting in the Pentagon.
"Good morning Mr. Trask," the President replied, "I trust you have some answers for me concerning the debacle in Baltimore? Or have you come to offer your resignation like Secretary McCoy did at the first sign of crisis?"
Trask sat down opposite the President and placed the file on the desk, "answers," he said simply, "I wouldn't suit retirement."
Looking at the formally uniformed defence secretary the President found it difficult to imagine the big man sat at ease in the Florida sun. Trask was a soldier and would be until the day he died.
"Well that's good, because I am due to make a statement tomorrow evening and it would be nice to have SOMETHING to offer the ravenous public don't you think?"
"Yes sir," Bolivar replied, "though you might not like the answers I have for you."
The President cocked an eyebrow, "answers to crisis rarely pleasant Mr. Trask, but we each do what we must for the good of the country and its citizens."
For the good of the country. Damn right.
"Well then sir," Trask continued. He flipped open the file and pulled out a number of digitally enhanced images drawn from several of the Alpha team video feeds.
"The storm that blew up over the city severely hampered our deployment, and though there is no way to prove outside influence," he paused and gestured to the first set of pictures, "Ms. Ororo Munroe from Xavier's school is well known for her ability to influence the weather. It is also interesting to note that here," he pointed to another shot, "she actually strikes one of the Alpha units with an electrical charge that almost shorted the servos out." The picture showed a blue-white arc striking the earth close to the Sentinel and a crackling tendril reaching toward the camera.
"An accident?" The President put in. If the woman had wanted to drop lightening onto the Sentinel then he was perfectly sure that she would have.
"Perhaps," Trask agreed, "but the interference still put our soldiers lives in danger as well as the lives of the public if she was responsible for the weather conditions."
The President kept his expression carefully neutral and gestured for Trask to continue.
"Two of the frames suffered sudden power-outages. At first we assumed that they were technical failures but when the recordings were analysed this was turned up," he produced another run of pictures. The first was taken from the thick of battle, a press of clawing bodies clambering over one another to reach a black clad figure perched on the hood of a car.
"We have identified the mutant on the car as the Wolverine Mr. President, someone we are very familiar with," further back in the shot a girl was charging toward the combat with one hand outstretched directly toward the camera. There was a red circle drawn around her.
"We have not been able to positively identify this mutant yet sir but if you now look here," he gestured to the set taken from the second Sentinel that had gone down. Low in the shot the same girl was crouched, once again alongside the Wolverine.
"On both occasions when the frames went down this girl was present. We know she is a mutant, the Cerebro circuit has proven as much, but it is not beyond the realms of belief to say that she manipulated the power source of the Sentinels."
The President sat back. "Is it not also possible that this is mere coincidence Mr. Trask? Is it not possible that your Sentinels did indeed suffer from a technical malfunction?"
Bolivar shook his head, "I don't think so sir, the engineers have examined every inch of those frames over the last three days and there is nothing that would suggest that there is a problem with the power flow." He paused. "However, I accept that we have little evidence and much conjecture to go on with regard to this particular issue."
The President nodded in acceptance.
"This is the most troubling issue Mr. President," Trask revealed a third set of pictures from the file and spread them across the desk.
"This is a direct copy of the feed from Alpha Seven, the frame that was destroyed. I'm sure you have been made aware by now that the pilot of Alpha Seven was also killed in this incident."
The President nodded grimly, he had approved the soldiers posthumous commendation, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. The words would mean little to his widow and child.
"You can clearly see here the face of St. John Allerdyce, otherwise known as Pyro, the new leader of the Brotherhood since Magneto's departure. We believe it is he who was responsible for the destruction of the warehouse that triggered the attack."
"And what about the facility itself?" The President queried.
"Not Pyro," Trask shook his head, "Mystique." The word was particularly bitter on his lips since the woman had stolen his own identity at one time and used it to infiltrate the government almost to the top. "She might have been cured Mr. President, but she still does her work as well as she ever did. One of our teams inside picked her up on the way out, but by then it was far too late to undo what she had done. They barely escaped with their lives as it was. Fortunately there were no further casualties from the explosion, but it was a close run thing."
The President gestured for Trask to continue.
"The other individual shown here in battle with Alpha Seven," he pointed to a young man who appeared to be shooting blue mist from his extended palms, "is confirmed as Bobby Drake, also known as Iceman. He is supposed to be one of the X-Men sir but as you can see," Trask cycled through the sequential shots, "he worked together with Pyro to destroy Alpha Seven."
The President sat back with a resigned sigh.
"This boy is guilty of murder sir," Bolivar drove the point home, "to allow him to go unpunished simply because of his status makes a mockery of justice."
The President fixed his Secretary of Defence with a gaze filled with resignation.
"What would you have me do Bolivar?" The older man asked sadly, "in a world where young men can shoot fire and ice from their finger tips and kill in cold blood, what would you have me do?"
"Justice must be done sir," Trask stated simply.
"These people are heroes after what happened on Alcatraz, you expect me to just order their arrest and not expect some sort of outcry?"
"No sir, I don't, give me the authority to order his arrest and I will deal with the public relations. Even heroes cannot be outside the law."
There was a pause.
"Sir, the threat of mutant terrorism is one of the greatest, possibly THE greatest threat this country has ever known. We have already seen from Alcatraz, and now Baltimore that we are woefully unprepared for this threat. Eight Sentinel frames cannot begin to police the mutant menace that threatens us every day. We need more funding. We need the authority to use that funding and we need laws that will allow us to do our jobs Mr. President."
There was another pause.
"Without changes sir what is to stop repeats of this incident from happening again and again? Maybe next time they will come here sir, it has happened before."
The President sighed and ran a hand over his face. He suddenly looked older, like an old man with the weight and pain of a country on his shoulders. Like all of the cares of the world were his alone to bare.
There was a long, quiet moment.
"What did you have in mind Trask?"
The second part of the file dealt with his proposals to counter further incidents of mutant terrorism. Proposals that he was sure the President would not like. But then that was why he was here today; to show the President that though he may not like them, they were altogether necessary.
Trask waited.
A few minutes later the office door opened and the President's secretary stepped out, "good morning secretary Trask," she greeted brightly, "the President will see you now."
"Thankyou," he nodded and went inside.
"Good morning Mr. President," Bolivar greeted the older man seated behind the desk as he entered. There was a click as the door was closed behind him and Trask relaxed by a tiny fraction. He never was entirely comfortable here, but the President hadn't seen the need for a meeting in the Pentagon.
"Good morning Mr. Trask," the President replied, "I trust you have some answers for me concerning the debacle in Baltimore? Or have you come to offer your resignation like Secretary McCoy did at the first sign of crisis?"
Trask sat down opposite the President and placed the file on the desk, "answers," he said simply, "I wouldn't suit retirement."
Looking at the formally uniformed defence secretary the President found it difficult to imagine the big man sat at ease in the Florida sun. Trask was a soldier and would be until the day he died.
"Well that's good, because I am due to make a statement tomorrow evening and it would be nice to have SOMETHING to offer the ravenous public don't you think?"
"Yes sir," Bolivar replied, "though you might not like the answers I have for you."
The President cocked an eyebrow, "answers to crisis rarely pleasant Mr. Trask, but we each do what we must for the good of the country and its citizens."
For the good of the country. Damn right.
"Well then sir," Trask continued. He flipped open the file and pulled out a number of digitally enhanced images drawn from several of the Alpha team video feeds.
"The storm that blew up over the city severely hampered our deployment, and though there is no way to prove outside influence," he paused and gestured to the first set of pictures, "Ms. Ororo Munroe from Xavier's school is well known for her ability to influence the weather. It is also interesting to note that here," he pointed to another shot, "she actually strikes one of the Alpha units with an electrical charge that almost shorted the servos out." The picture showed a blue-white arc striking the earth close to the Sentinel and a crackling tendril reaching toward the camera.
"An accident?" The President put in. If the woman had wanted to drop lightening onto the Sentinel then he was perfectly sure that she would have.
"Perhaps," Trask agreed, "but the interference still put our soldiers lives in danger as well as the lives of the public if she was responsible for the weather conditions."
The President kept his expression carefully neutral and gestured for Trask to continue.
"Two of the frames suffered sudden power-outages. At first we assumed that they were technical failures but when the recordings were analysed this was turned up," he produced another run of pictures. The first was taken from the thick of battle, a press of clawing bodies clambering over one another to reach a black clad figure perched on the hood of a car.
"We have identified the mutant on the car as the Wolverine Mr. President, someone we are very familiar with," further back in the shot a girl was charging toward the combat with one hand outstretched directly toward the camera. There was a red circle drawn around her.
"We have not been able to positively identify this mutant yet sir but if you now look here," he gestured to the set taken from the second Sentinel that had gone down. Low in the shot the same girl was crouched, once again alongside the Wolverine.
"On both occasions when the frames went down this girl was present. We know she is a mutant, the Cerebro circuit has proven as much, but it is not beyond the realms of belief to say that she manipulated the power source of the Sentinels."
The President sat back. "Is it not also possible that this is mere coincidence Mr. Trask? Is it not possible that your Sentinels did indeed suffer from a technical malfunction?"
Bolivar shook his head, "I don't think so sir, the engineers have examined every inch of those frames over the last three days and there is nothing that would suggest that there is a problem with the power flow." He paused. "However, I accept that we have little evidence and much conjecture to go on with regard to this particular issue."
The President nodded in acceptance.
"This is the most troubling issue Mr. President," Trask revealed a third set of pictures from the file and spread them across the desk.
"This is a direct copy of the feed from Alpha Seven, the frame that was destroyed. I'm sure you have been made aware by now that the pilot of Alpha Seven was also killed in this incident."
The President nodded grimly, he had approved the soldiers posthumous commendation, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth. The words would mean little to his widow and child.
"You can clearly see here the face of St. John Allerdyce, otherwise known as Pyro, the new leader of the Brotherhood since Magneto's departure. We believe it is he who was responsible for the destruction of the warehouse that triggered the attack."
"And what about the facility itself?" The President queried.
"Not Pyro," Trask shook his head, "Mystique." The word was particularly bitter on his lips since the woman had stolen his own identity at one time and used it to infiltrate the government almost to the top. "She might have been cured Mr. President, but she still does her work as well as she ever did. One of our teams inside picked her up on the way out, but by then it was far too late to undo what she had done. They barely escaped with their lives as it was. Fortunately there were no further casualties from the explosion, but it was a close run thing."
The President gestured for Trask to continue.
"The other individual shown here in battle with Alpha Seven," he pointed to a young man who appeared to be shooting blue mist from his extended palms, "is confirmed as Bobby Drake, also known as Iceman. He is supposed to be one of the X-Men sir but as you can see," Trask cycled through the sequential shots, "he worked together with Pyro to destroy Alpha Seven."
The President sat back with a resigned sigh.
"This boy is guilty of murder sir," Bolivar drove the point home, "to allow him to go unpunished simply because of his status makes a mockery of justice."
The President fixed his Secretary of Defence with a gaze filled with resignation.
"What would you have me do Bolivar?" The older man asked sadly, "in a world where young men can shoot fire and ice from their finger tips and kill in cold blood, what would you have me do?"
"Justice must be done sir," Trask stated simply.
"These people are heroes after what happened on Alcatraz, you expect me to just order their arrest and not expect some sort of outcry?"
"No sir, I don't, give me the authority to order his arrest and I will deal with the public relations. Even heroes cannot be outside the law."
There was a pause.
"Sir, the threat of mutant terrorism is one of the greatest, possibly THE greatest threat this country has ever known. We have already seen from Alcatraz, and now Baltimore that we are woefully unprepared for this threat. Eight Sentinel frames cannot begin to police the mutant menace that threatens us every day. We need more funding. We need the authority to use that funding and we need laws that will allow us to do our jobs Mr. President."
There was another pause.
"Without changes sir what is to stop repeats of this incident from happening again and again? Maybe next time they will come here sir, it has happened before."
The President sighed and ran a hand over his face. He suddenly looked older, like an old man with the weight and pain of a country on his shoulders. Like all of the cares of the world were his alone to bare.
There was a long, quiet moment.
"What did you have in mind Trask?"
