WARNING! Part Two of Steel Aurora contains a scene of gratuitous sex. If reading this sort of thing is offensive to you, then for Heaven's Sake, don't.

DISCLAIMER: Magneto, X-Men, Avalon, Acolytes and other related material is copyright Marvel Entertainment Group Inc. References to the Mutant Empire trilogy, including the quote used from said trilogy, are copyright Christopher Golden and Marvel as well. I am making no profit off of this story and it is intended for entertainment purposes only. The characters of Mary Denning and Tara Samuels (aka Harmony) are my own creations and are therefore copyright me.

NOTE: The bulk of Steel Aurora takes place after the events depicted in the Mutant Empire trilogy, by Christopher Golden, and before the events depicted in the Fatal Attractions story arc. I am also operating under the assumption that Magneto would have recruited more mutants than just his core group of Acolytes to Avalon, since it was a rather large space station, and I assumed they would need people to run it.

STEEL AURORA  Part One

    I suppose that, like millions of other people, I had never really given much thought to mutants. Of course I was aware that they existed, it is almost impossible to pick up a newspaper or turn on CNN without hearing something about them. I just had never really considered mutants to be anything worth fussing about. To me, they were just people. Different maybe, but still just people like everyone else. I had no idea that, for a single night, I would find myself totally immersed in the dream of one of the most powerful mutants known. Nor could I have imagined how that dream was to affect my life.

    Interior Alaska is not exactly crawling with mutants. Fairbanks is about as far away from the real world as you can get, which was a good part of the reason why I came up here from the States in the first place. I had always wanted to just live quietly, someplace where I felt comfortable, just like most mutants I suppose. There were some in the state, of course, everyone knew it. But it's a big state, and it is one that particularly lends itself to the fostering of privacy. As long as the mutants aren't making trouble, then no one here sees much point in pressing the issue. Myself, I didn't have an opinion one way or the other. Everyone has the right to try and make a life for themselves as far as I'm concerned. I had always tried my best not to be judgmental, or to chose sides one way or another.

    I came to Alaska from the Lower 48 when I was young, trying to make my own way just like any other teenage hotshot. I loved the place immediately. The wild open spaces were fresh and inviting, and I delighted in the sheer natural intensity. It was the type of place I had always dreamed of living and I have never quite gotten over the disbelief that I am actually here. It pains me to see people take things like the breathtaking view of mountains in the morning for granted. Even after having lived up here for over ten years, the sight of the aurora borealis filling the sky can still make me stop in my tracks with awe. I tend to see beauty in everything, because . . . well, because everything is beautiful. I hope I never stop feeling that way. Sometimes I think that to lose that wonder would be to die inside.

    When I moved up, I worked hard and went to college here in Fairbanks for a few years, majoring in Natural Sciences. I love all science, but my true passion was geology. Rocks, crystals, the shape and history of the land, there was nothing I enjoyed learning about more. Though I never actually completed my degree, I was more than happy to open a small rock shop on the edge of town. It was in just the right spot off the highway to attract tourists in the summer. Yes, Interior Alaska is crawling with tourists when the weather is nice. It is occasionally annoying to have strangers tromping all over our spectacular scenery, but tourism is Fairbank's lifeblood. That and the Pipeline, of course, but the opening of that subject is a whole different Pandora's box.

    My little place is more than just a rock shop. I also sell books and music, artwork done by some local talent, and even some sci-fi memorabilia. It's a nice place, with a good atmosphere. The tourists come in looking for pieces of Alaska they can take home with them, and they pretty much keep me in business. For a thirty-ish female in a land that traditionally attracts men, I do very well for myself. I keep the place open full time from May to December, and part time for the rest of the year. After Christmas, things slow down to a snail's pace in the Interior, and I like that just fine. Besides still being an avid scholar of the sciences, I have other hobbies too, not the least of which was writing. I fancy myself a sci-fi novelist, not that I've yet to publish anything, but who knows what the future has in store? I've learned that it is usually not what you would expect.

    In the off season, some of the local folks come in for the books and music, or just to chat. I try to make it a place where they can feel comfortable doing so, there's snug old couches and a TV, and the place is filled with as many plants as I can keep alive.

    It was, in fact, the plants that first led me to believe that my only employee was probably a mutant. I remember that when she first came in to interview for the job, I had to stop myself from telling her she was hired before I even told her my name. I took such an instant liking to her and her soft gentle mannerisms.

    Her name was Tara Samuels. Like so many of the local people in the Interior, she was from native stock, probably Athabascan, and her countenance showed many of the features characteristic of her people. She was very pretty, with a round wide face rimmed with long black hair. Unlike most of the native population, however, her eyes were a brilliant green, dazzling set against her coloring. She was shy and quiet, and needed the job badly. She was barely sixteen, had no family and was living at a local boarding house. Unfortunately, situations like that are frequent up here. I'll be the first to admit that Alaska is not perfect and has more than its fair share of domestic and social problems. These are things that need tending to, along with other issues like gay and mutant rights. Unfortunately, in Alaska, "privacy" is often a synonym for "blind eye."

    Because of her looks, Tara tended to attract much attention from some of the local high school boys, a small group of which would come into the store now and then to ask her out. She always said no, and I could see that she was a bit frightened of the attention. Given her situation, I suspected abuse in her upbringing. I did my best to be a supportive friend to Tara, rather than just her boss, and she told me that she appreciated it. In the year or so that she worked for me, I began to look at her as a little sister, or even a daughter after a fashion.

    It did not take me that long to suspect she was a mutant, however. There was just something about her, a soft specialness, that tipped me off to her abilities. When working in the store, she would often hum or sing in soft dreaminess. When she did, and it is still hard to explain, everything just seemed . . . right. I noticed the plants first. When Tara was around, they perked with health, all their leaves were shiny and green, and they thrived. She took a week vacation once to go hiking in Denali Park, and while she was away, the poor plants pined. They looked shabby and desolate.

    Then I noticed the rocks and crystals. Call me crazy, but even they seemed happier when she was around. When Tara hummed her soft melodies, the very air in the store seemed content and right. Customers would comment on it to me. "Your store is just so friendly," they would say. Everything was as it should be when Tara was around.

    It made me really start to wonder why some people seemed to think the worst of all mutants. Certainly it was always the "bad" mutants that were in the headlines, or the "evil" mutants who were top story on the news. But I had also heard of other mutants, those who used their abilities for the peaceful advancement of their kind. Why did it seem the public was so quick to ignore them? I could have never imagined Tara using her powers, nebulous as they were, for anything other than making plants grow and making the air feel right. She certainly was not evil, and her gentle nature made the thought of her being a threat to humanity completely laughable. Of course, I suppose that is the way things have always been, the majority tends to suppress the minority, no matter how trivial the differences. Sometimes it really pains me to think how far our species still has to go.

    But, out of respect for her privacy, I said nothing to Tara about my suspicions of her being born with that little something extra. I knew that if she wanted to say anything, she would. She was not a dim girl, it was pretty likely that she was aware that I knew. It was a comfortable existence for both of us.

    Then, it all began to change. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, or a good thing. It just was.

    The store had been particularly quiet that day, but I wasn't at all worried. In the early part of the summer, it was hard to tell just how business was going to go. The tourists usually start arriving late in May, and it was about a week or so into that month, so things were still slow. Late afternoon found me in the back room, having a can of pop and playing Mah Jong on the computer, even though I had told myself I was going to finish the chapter I had been working on. Tara was reading a book in the shop, sitting behind the counter. The TV was on, I could hear it vaguely, but I was paying no attention to it. It was the type of day when I didn't really want to pay attention, or deal with anything I didn't have to. I knew Tara felt the same way, so I was a bit surprised when she called to me, her quiet voice sounding rather frightened and shaky.

    "Miss Denning?" her voice wavered uncertainly. I wondered to myself if I was ever going to be able to get her to call me by my first name, Mary. I had been working on her for over a year, with little headway.

    "Miss Denning? You might want to come and see this."

    I put my game on pause and, picking up my can of Squirt, joined her in the store. She was no longer reading, but was staring at the flickering TV screen with nervous emerald eyes. I looked to see what had so captured her attention, and within minutes I was feeling just as Tara looked.

    CNN was reporting on a crisis developing in Manhattan. Apparently, the entire island had been taken over by mutants, mutants who were known to be criminals and fugitives. Footage flashed of gigantic robotic Sentinels standing guard over the tunnels and bridges that led into the city. Evidently, the entire plan had been masterminded by the mutant known as Magneto.

    I knew of Magneto, from the news and social-political classes I had taken. I doubted that there was anyone in most of the world that had not heard of Magneto. The Master of Magnetism. The Mad Mutant. I knew of his reputation and of some of his deeds. I had read of his appearance before the World Court, and I knew that he had more than once put the peoples of many countries, as well as the entire world, in severe jeopardy. I had even seen pictures of the man, wearing his familiar costume and helmet. I knew that I should have been shocked and terrified by this, his latest plot for domination.

    But nothing that I had ever seen or read about Magneto prepared me for what I was about to see.

    The man whose name, according to CNN, had once been Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, stood before the entire world and quoted Robert Frost. He spoke with a savage passion of the failings of humankind to embrace their mutant brothers. He declared his desire to protect his people, and he decreed that Manhattan Island now belonged to those people, to the mutants. Humans could either leave peacefully or stay, content to live under his law. He called it the Mutant Empire.

    I hardly heard the words the man said, for I could not take my eyes off of him.

    I had never seen anyone with such presence, such natural power. His face was a fascinating mixture of severity and serenity. He knew that what he was doing was right, he was absolutely convinced of it, and his determination to make his vision a reality could literally be felt through the television screen. I could not quite see his eyes, for their surreal white glow was mostly obscured by the blood-red helmet he wore to shut himself away from everything around him. From beneath the helmet peeped soft tendrils of silver white hair.

    He wore mostly red, save for a rich purple cape and gloves. He stood with the rigidness of a marble god, well defined muscular chest barely moving even with his breathing. Around him the very air seemed electrified. It was as if he were restraining himself, barely able to contain his fortitude and indomitable will. He was in charge, there would be no mistake, there would be no opposition. Hand clenched in a firm fist, he told the entire world exactly what was going to happen

    "Earth will be at peace," he said, his rich baritone voice steady and intense, "or it will be destroyed. That is my promise to you."

    I was enthralled. Good Lord, the man was magnificent.

    When he left the screen, stepping away from the cameras with a brisk swirl of purple cape and followed dutifully by his Acolytes, I found my breath again. I almost felt disappointed that he was no longer in front of me, telling me in no uncertain terms what was to come. CNN exploded into a frenzy of reporting, pictures flashing from the Sentinels to file footage of the Acolytes. I stared blankly as journalists fell all over themselves trying to get the news to the world.

    "Oh my God," Tara whispered beside me. I looked at her, saw how her fragile body trembled. She was terrified.

    Why wasn't I?

    "It will be all right, Tara," I assured. She looked at me, her cat eyes shining with the need for reassurance.

    We closed the shop. It was pretty doubtful we were going to be getting any business, but we had no desire to deal with it even if it were to come. I took Tara home with me, which was not unusual, she often stayed out at my place when things were unsettled or tense at the boarding house. As we rattled along the road in my ancient and dying pick-up, neither of us said a word, each wrapped in our own thoughts. I could almost deduce what Tara was thinking without her telling me anyway. Magneto had welcomed all mutants to his Empire, and that included her. I wondered if she would go, I could sense by her silence that she was weighing her options. Unfortunately, I had my doubts that Manhattan would remain a Haven for long, there was no way that the United States Government would tolerate who they considered to be a terrorist controlling the most powerful city of the country.

    It was almost a sad thought. How bad would it be, I wondered, if we just let Magneto have the city? I had no doubt, just from looking at the man, that he could pull it off, that he could force his vision to become a reality. Would it really be so horrible to let the mutants have something of their own to hold onto? Of course, that would mean a further segregation of Homo sapiens from Homo superior.   Mutants with their own city presented a separatist and tyrannical picture to the rest of the world.

    But hadn't Magneto said, humans would also be welcome in his Haven? Hadn't he said that the city would serve as a template for world peace?

    I shook my head as I forced the stubborn steering of my pick-up to turn us onto the proper road. I lived out of town, in an area known as Goldstream. It was a valley where much of the Gold Rush had its center in the early pioneering days of Alaska. It was a beautiful place, almost a proper wilderness, filled with trees and hundreds of small streams, where one could run into moose or even bear almost anytime. I loved it. My house was situated off the main drag through Goldstream, isolated from neighbors and protected from the city lights of Fairbanks by rolling foothills. I brought the pick-up to a sputtering halt beside the house.

    We turned the TV on as soon as we were inside, and Tara sat stonily in front of it while I fed the dogs and fixed a small dinner for ourselves. I have a pair of, appropriately enough, Alaskan Malamutes, whom I let out of their run and into the house as soon I had their food ready. I fed them early, but they were never ones to turn down a meal, no matter what time it was served. When I took dinner out to Tara in the livingroom, the two dogs lingered around us hopefully, probably noticing that neither of the humans seemed very interested in eating.

    I watched the pictures being shown from New York, and I listened to the analysis of the situation from the so-called experts, all with only a mild interest. However, when one of the networks came up with a small amount of file footage featuring Magneto, I perked up. Every time he was on that TV screen, I could not take my eyes off of him. I was enthralled. From the power and charisma that man literally radiated, it was easy to see why he was feared throughout the world, it was understandable why his Acolytes followed him with such devotion. He was a symbol, the mutant unleashed, the one who could make it all happen.

    And it was happening. The media showed us the mass exodus of humans out of Manhattan, they showed us the army standing by beneath the shadows of the watchful Sentinels, they showed us mutants making their way into the city. Magneto's dream was becoming a reality, and there seemed to be little that could be done about it.

    It was far into the evening before Tara said anything to me. She picked up the remote and hit mute, so that we could talk without the national anchorman drowning us out. "Miss Denning?" she began hesitantly, hugging a couch pillow to her chest tightly. She had her legs drawn up so that she was little more than a tiny ball lost in the plushness of the couch. "Miss Denning? What do you think I should do?"

    I was not sure what to say to her for a long time. I imagined this question being asked all over the world by countless mutants. Perhaps they were asking their parents, spouses or other loved ones. More likely, they had only themselves to ask, having long ago been abandoned by society. I was glad that Tara was not alone, that she had someone to ask.

    "I honestly don't know, Tara," I answered quietly, gazing at the flickering of the TV. It was the only light we had on in the livingroom, and its glow fell across Tara's round features, giving her a ghostly appearance. Would things be better for her if she went and joined Magneto's Haven? Whenever his image splashed across the TV, I could almost believe so, he was so powerful and in command. I could almost see him as a father figure to all the young mutants of the world, after all, most of his Acolytes appeared to be young. He wanted only to protect them, to give them someplace safe to call their own. Every time his speech was replayed, I knew for certain he would willingly die for the protection of children like Tara. He was not a terrorist, he was only sheltering his own, like any parent would. If Tara were to go to him, I knew without doubt that she would find haven beneath his shadow.

    But, I also knew it could not last. I listened to the debates, I saw the other side of the problem as well. Magneto was holding a city hostage, this was how most of the world viewed this situation. The American people were not going to stand for their most powerful center of business and finance to be under his control for long. The presence of the military outside Manhattan proved this. It would probably be only a matter of time before Magneto's dream crumbled.

    Or would it? What if the combined might and power of all those thousands of gathered mutants proved to be stronger than the strength of the military? How far would the United States government go to take back the city? Did I want gentle Tara to be in the middle of all of that? How many mutants could Magneto protect at once?

    I drew in a soft breath of conviction. "Tara, if you want to go, then we will find a way to get you there," I told her with a firm tone that told her exactly how serious I was. If she wanted to go, I would help her, for it was her right. These were her people, and Magneto was her god. She deserved the chance to make her life her own.

    She looked at me, tears glistening in her almond-shaped eyes. "You would go with me?"

    I nodded. Of course I would. I loved the child like she was my own blood, I would not abandon her to her destiny just because Magneto was calling her. Perhaps he could protect her alone, but with me at her side, she would be twice as safe. I would see that no harm came to her, I swore it to myself.

    And if the unthinkable actually happened, if Magneto was allowed to keep his Haven, then I was more than willing to live there under his rule. For Tara's sake, and for the sake of all mutants, I would strive for the coexistence that Magneto sought. His savage power enthralled me as much as it did his own kind. He was making things happen when others only talked about it. He was baronial, and he was in complete control.

    "I will think about it," Tara decided quietly.

    I agreed. "It is perhaps best if we see how this is going to play out. If there is going to be trouble, then I would rather we not be there in the middle of it."

    As it turned out, Tara's decision was made for her. Sadly, within days, the Mutant Empire fell. CNN said it was due to the intervention of a team of mutants called the X-Men. I had heard of them too, of course. It made me wonder how much was happening behind the scenes that we did not see. Why would the X-Men, mutants who were often hated and feared by the general populous, turn against Magneto who offered them a safe haven and a chance at normal lives? Perhaps it was the tyrannical nature of Magneto's experiment that caused them to oppose his plans. Perhaps there was something more. It was doubtful I would ever know. I was mostly relieved that Tara had not gone to Manhattan to take Magneto up on his offer, for to think that she might have been caught in the chaos that had ensued gave me cold chills. On the other hand, I regretted that the opportunity had been taken from her.

    And once things had calmed down, I found myself disappointed that images of Magneto faded in frequency on the news until they were completely gone. I missed that crimson costume flashing before my eyes, highlighting magnificent muscles and barely containing the power of the Master of Magnetism.

*******************************

    Life returned to normal and we had a very profitable tourist season. The summer was long and annoyingly hot, as usual in Interior Alaska. I have always had to laugh at people who automatically assume this entire state is a frozen wasteland. In the summer, temperatures soar to uncomfortable heights and the days are endlessly long. Autumn is a relief in these parts, believe you me.

    Tara started to call me by my first name at last. I suppose she felt more at ease with me now that it was out in the open between us that she was a mutant. In the evenings when she came home with me, we talked and I found out more about her. My suspicions of abuse had been correct. Like most mutants, her powers had manifested when she reached adolescence, and her family had been shocked. I simply could not understand why, since her abilities were quiet ones, barely noticeable most of the time. But she told me that her highly religious stepfather had decided she was a witch of some sort, and had brutally abused her until she decided running away was her only option. She had hitchhiked up from Valdez and had not contacted her family since.

    We would also discuss her abilities and what she could do with them. It was still sort of nebulous to us both exactly what she did, but when she was around plants grew, everything seemed to balance itself, she could even stop the dogs from chasing ground squirrels and get them all to play together instead. I was rather shocked the first time I saw that happen! It was as if, when Tara hummed her melodious little songs, nothing could go wrong and nothing bad could happen. Neither of us really understood exactly what she did, nor how to explain it.

    One evening in the late part of September, we closed the store late. We had hosted a poetry reading which had run long, and by the time everyone had left, it was dark out and growing cool. I certainly didn't mind, dark and cool were my preferred state of things. Tara and I were both in good moods, giggling and joking about some of the humourous poetry that had been read, and the fact that a certain young man had kept his eye on Tara the entire night. We had locked the door and switched off the outside lights, and were contemplating what to do with the rest of the evening when it began to happen.

    At first neither of us noticed it, but there was a slight tremor in the floor beneath us. Small quakes are commonplace in this area of Alaska, so I'm not surprised that I didn't really remember the trembling until later.

    "Anything playing at the theater?" Tara asked as she pulled her cash drawer from the register to count it down.

    "Nope," I responded, getting the vacuum out of the storage closet so that I could run it over the carpet. It was a Kirby, probably older than I was, that I had reluctantly inherited from my mother upon her buying a new one. I never looked forward to vacuuming, the damn machine always gave me hassles. "I drove by on my way to Jeffery's for lunch. Same old junk. We could rent some videos tonight, if you want, or watch something I already have."

    Neither of us noticed that the windows were now trembling just slightly. Tara smiled eagerly in my direction. "Could we watch Somewhere in Time?"

    I smiled, knowing that was one of Tara's favorite movies, and truthfully I was fond of it too. "Sure. But you have to make the popcorn. I burnt it last time."

    "I know," she chuckled. "That won't happen when I make it."

    "Showoff," I sneered back at her, then straightened from the uncooperative vacuum, my attention caught by an odd light outside. I thought I had turned off the outside lights, and for a moment I thought I must have been mistaken. But the light was strange, it was a pale blue white, and our outside light was yellow. I started to move to the window, noticing at last the vibrations running through the building, but I did not make it that far.

    The locked door slammed open suddenly, startling us both enough to yell out in surprise. The strange light from outside invaded the store through the open door, crackling around with a static hiss. There was a soft swish that accompanied the light, enough of a breeze that my dark brown hair was tossed about lightly. Though it was bright, the light was not painful to look at. The shaking of the building increased, the metal shelves throughout the store rattled.

    And suddenly he was there, right in front of us. He floated down from above and moved through the door with a smooth grace, staying just above the floor. He was surrounded by the light, coalesced into a shielding bubble, and within the protection of that bubble, a thin glow completely encased him.

    Magneto.

    We both stared at him in complete awe. He was not exactly a large man, probably just over six foot. But his sheer presence was huge and overwhelming. For the first time ever, I saw the man without his helmet on, his silver hair was also being tossed by the breeze he created, cascading just past shoulder length in gentle natural waves. It was beautiful and soft looking. His purple cape also swirled around him, humming with the energy he was emitting, giving only teasing views of the red uniform beneath. His eyes were a piecing blue grey, shining with a cool strong light. He met my gaze briefly, this incredible force of nature, and for a moment I thought I saw the corners of his mouth twitch in a faint smile.

    Then he looked at Tara, who was pressed back against the wall behind the counter, staring at him with fear and wonder. I saw his eyes soften with an almost parental glow, and in some distant part of my mind I realized that I had been right in my estimation of this man. He was a father, and he cared for his people.

    "Tara Aimee Samuels," he said in a voice that was at once gentle and commanding. "I have come to offer you a safe haven."

    Tara blinked in astonishment. She was speechless. I was feeling just as overwhelmed, but my caring for the teenager far outweighed any fear I may have felt. Truthfully, I really don't think I was actually afraid. I was certainly in awe of the legend before me, enthralled by forces crackling and twisting around me, and stunned by the man's stoically handsome features, but I was not afraid. Though I could feel myself shaking all the way through my body, and my breath was difficult to catch, I was not frightened or intimidated by the Master of Magnetism.

    I was entranced.

    But not so much that I couldn't voice my concerns for Tara. I took a chance and stepped forward. "A safe haven?" I asked him, with all the concern I felt for my young friend reflected in the tone of my voice. He turned those incredible eyes on me and held my gaze in his. I could almost feel that he understood my concern, that he was not angry I had given voice to my fears. We both wanted the same thing, me the Human and he the Force of Nature. We wanted Tara to be safe and protected, we wanted her to have the chance to live a life free of bigotry and prosecution. In the long moment that my brown eyes were locked with his steel ones, we found common ground.

    He broke the connection first, looking back to Tara. The magnetic bubble which surrounded him slowly melted away, lowering his purple boots lightly to the floor. The magnetic static forces continued to crackle around him, however, making the very air hum and sparkle. He reached a gloved hand out to Tara, and I could not help but watch the movements of his well-defined muscles beneath the red uniform.

    "The days of mutant tolerance will soon crumble away, and when that time comes, no mutant will be able to walk the earth safely," his voice sent shivers down my spine, it was so low and even, yet I could feel his passions riding just beneath the tones. "I cannot stand by and watch my people being exterminated simply due to having had the misfortune of being born different. I wish to protect my mutant brethren, to offer them sanctuary from the coming storm. To that end I have created Avalon."

    It appeared that Tara was feeling more at ease as his carefully spoken words soothed her fragile nerves. There was a shine of interest in her emerald eyes, which reflected the snapping of his energy. She took a deep breath. "Avalon?"

    "It is a space station," he replied, and I could sense the pride in his words. "I have laid claim to a piece of the sky for us. There we will live in peace with each other until such time when the world is ready to accept us and welcome us home."

    I was rather shocked. A space station? There was no doubt that he was serious, but I was uncertain about this strange turn of events. Just months ago, had he not been preaching for a coexistence of humans and mutants, albeit under mutant rule? Now he was taking one step further and cutting mutants off from the rest of the world entirely. Could this be right?

    Tara looked surprised too. I could see the questions and thoughts whirling behind her expression. For a long moment, none of us moved. There was no sound save the soft crackles and hum of Magneto's energies.

    "Your abilities would serve us well, Miss Samuels," Magneto said after the silence. "Though the technology used to create Avalon can provide us with much of what we need, we still plan to develop gardens and orchards to supplement our diets. You would be invaluable in helping us to maintain healthy conditions toward this goal."

    Indeed she would! But gardens and orchards? Just how big was this space station? How many mutants did he plan to have live there with him? And for how long?

    "It will be your home, Miss Samuels, and you will share it with many of our kind."

    Tara looked at me then, and I saw exactly what she was thinking. She wanted to go. She wanted to be a part of Magneto's grand vision, and I really could not say that I blamed her. He was a powerful and enigmatic man, and like before; he was doing what he felt needed to be done. And that he had come here personally to request her presence, made her feel very special indeed.

    But she was worried, afraid I would not approve. I could only give her a small shrug that said the decision was up to her. But I also smiled so that she would know I stood behind her whatever path she chose.

    After another long moment, Tara stepped around the counter and laid her small pale hand in Magneto's much larger one. Another smile played around his firm mouth, and he grasped her fingers in a way meant to welcome and comfort.

    "Excellent," he said warmly. "You will be called, Harmony."

    Tara broke into a smile, and even I was surprised and pleased. Harmony was exactly the word to describe what her abilities were. I found myself wondering, however; how had Magneto known of her powers? How had he known where to find her? To a young girl like Tara, I am sure he seemed more god than man, able to do anything. Within her eyes I saw reflected the same shine of devotion with which Magneto's Acolytes so faithfully followed him.

    They stepped out of the store together, and I followed them, moving through Magneto's energy signature, feeling the strange purring of magnetic forces swirl around me. Outside the store, we all looked up, and I could make out the blinking lights of some sort of craft high above us in the night. Smirking slightly, I wondered to myself how many UFO sightings were going to be reported to the Fairbanks P.D. this evening. Then I began to wonder, was this the space station he had talked about? It did not seem very large, only about the size of a normal cargo plane.

    As if reading my thoughts, and I was wondering if he could do that too, Magneto told Tara, "Above us is the shuttle which will take you to Avalon, Harmony. I have much to do this night and will join you later aboard the station. There is no need to fear," he assured her, obviously having seen the fear spring into her eyes at the same moment I did. "I will allow no harm to come to you, child. I promise."

    I felt more secure, hearing the conviction in his tone. Tara apparently did too, for she turned to me then, and smiled in her soft nervous way. She reached out and we clasped hands, while Magneto's blue white light whispered around us.

    "Thank you, Mary," Tara whispered.

    I was not sure what I could say to her, how I could tell her how important she had become to me, how much I was going to miss her, or how I wished her every happiness in her new life. I simply pulled her into a tight embrace, letting her feel all the things I did not know how to say.

    When we stepped away from each other, Tara began to glow with the same sparkling light as Magneto. A soft bubble of magnetic protection surrounded her fragile form, and gently she lifted from the ground. She looked nervous, but eager to face whatever lay ahead, knowing she would be safe beneath Magneto's protective wing. As she rose, she smiled down at me and waved. I lifted a hand to return the farewell, a small part of me aching that she was about to disappear from my life.

    We watched until her soft glow merged with the lights of the shuttle above. I looked at Magneto then, at the startlingly soft expression on his face as he gazed skyward after his new charge. I wanted to grill him, to demand that he tell me exactly what he had in store for Tara, how she would be received and welcomed on his space station. How would he protect her? What guarantees could he give me? But I remained silent, for his very presence answered every question I might have had. He had just claimed Tara as one of his children, and like any father, he would die to protect her. I had no doubt of this.

    Then that magnificent man turned his steel gaze back to me and regarded me for a long moment. I stood still beneath the scrutiny, but shivers ran through my entire body, making my stomach flutter with an undirected desire. In some corner of my mind I analyzed this feeling of want. Did I wish, at that moment, that I was a mutant also, so that he would take me into his fold as he had Tara? So that I could live as part of his dream and have his presence near me all the time? I suppose a part of me was feeling that way, for he was intoxicating, and I knew that if I were to spend even a small amount of time around him, it would not be enough. I would want him around always, and that was dangerous thinking.

    But as I stared into his eyes, I realized there was far more to my desire than that. He was a beautiful and magnificent man, and I knew that my desire had nothing to do with his mutation or power, nothing to do with Magneto, Master of Magnetism. My want was for the man I saw deep in those eyes, the man who had faced the failure of his dream more times than he cared to remember, the man who had lost so much and had continued living regardless. My desire was for Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, and I felt it all the way through me.

    And what was he thinking as he looked at me? Into my eyes? I will never know, but when he broke the gaze, I caught that fleeting ghost of a smile on his lips once again, and saw a sad twinkle in the steel depths of his eyes that I will never forget, until the day I die.

    "Good evening, Miss Denning," he said in a rich warm tone, a tone that made my joints feel weak and shaky. The magnetic bubble formed around him, and he gently lifted from the ground with what appeared to be perfect ease. I watched him as he floated away, disappearing into the night. I envied him for his abilities and at the same time was saddened, for there was no place for him on the world to which he had been born. All of the sparkling magnetic energies went with him, or slowly sank into the ground, and eventually the trembling subsided, leaving me to feel alone and empty in my mundaneness.
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Copyright 1999 raptor@LD4.myip.org

To Steel Aurora Part Two