When the world finally resolved itself around her, Star found herself lying on the rocky shore of a large body of water. She was damp from the spray, and when she licked her lips she tasted salt. She got slowly to her feet, for she could not shake the absurd feeling that if she moved too quickly, she would break apart. She didn't know where she was or, for that matter, who she was. She was wet and cold, and the child within her was frighteningly still. She climbed laboriously to the top of the steep slope which followed the edge of the water for as far as she could see. When she reached the top she was relieved to see a road and, in the distance, a small building. She walked slowly to the road and began to follow it carefully toward the building, which remained dark in the gathering gloom, and she felt her hope of shelter fade. When she reached the building, she saw a large sign which read "Closed" hanging in the door. She tried it anyway, but was unsurprised to find it locked. She leaned against the door for a minute or two, trying to sort her scrambled thoughts. It didn't help, everything insisted on remaining fuzzy. She turned at last and began to walk down the road. She continued in the direction she had started simply because to retrace her steps seemed an odd sort of defeat.

She walked along the road, the wind from the sea chilling her through, for a long time. It grew darker and colder and her steps grew more hesitant. The sky was overcast and several times she stumbled over unseen obstacles which were strewn about the road. She had nearly reached the end of her strength when a large vehicle topped an unsuspected rise in the landscape, and its headlights nearly blinded her. She threw her arm across her eyes and turned away as the vehicle shrieked to a halt a hundred feet beyond where she stood. The door opened and the driver leaped out.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" he shouted. "What the devil are ye doin' in the middle of the blasted road!?!" She stood blinking at him. He spoke with an accent she wasn't familiar with, and she barely understood him. "Well?" he demanded.

"I...I was...walking," she answered slowly, for in truth she wasn't completely certain herself.

"A bloody Yank. I might ha' known." He seemed to look at her for the first time. "Och, girl. You're no' dressed tae be oot on the moor. Come on, get in me Lorry before ye catch yer death." The man turned, still fuming, and started back toward his vehicle. She hesitated for a moment before following him. He jerked the door open and stood waiting impatiently for her.

"Come on, then," he growled. "Get in. I'll no' bite ye. I've go' a load tae deliver an' I'm running behind as i' tis." She looked up into the cab. It was a daunting distance from the ground.

"Are ye goin' tae get in, or no'?" he asked.

"I ... don't think I can."

"Well, why the bloody hell not?" he said stepping around the door. "Ah, hells," he said, catching a good look at her in the light from the cab. He bent down and cupped his hands to give her a boost. When she was settled, he closed the door and walked around the front of the truck to the driver's side. He got in and turned the heater up to full, then put the vehicle into gear and started down the dark road, back in the direction from which she had come. Star was too tired, and too cold, to protest. Moments later the empty building flashed passed, and she sighed. He glanced at her but didn't say anything. In the warmth of the cab, her single garment quickly dried, and her weariness overcame her. She slept. The driver, intent upon the winding and treacherous coastline road, did not look at her again.

Several hours later, the driver pulled his lorry up to a dockside warehouse. As he backed the trailer up to the loading dock, a man with a clipboard came out of the building.

"Hey, Charlie! Where've ye been, lad? The boat leaves in two hours, ye know."

"Aye, I know. Had a bit o' trouble on the road," he said as he climbed down from the cab. The other man glanced into the cab and spied Star.

"Stopped tae pick up a bit o' fluff, is what ye did."

"Ye know me better 'n that," he replied. "She's part o' the trouble. Blasted Yank was walkin' down the middle o' the road. I near ran her down."

"What will ye be doin' wi' her, then?"

"I dinnea kin. I thought tae take her home. Ye know how my Mary loves tae mother the young ones."

"Aye, that she does. Well, come on, lad. We'd best see yer cargo unloaded. Then ye can take the wee lass tae yer Mary."

As the two men moved to the back of the truck, Star awoke. They didn't see her open the door and slide down from the high cab. Later, when they discovered her missing, they would search for her for hours, for the dock was no place for a woman alone.


Star winced as her bare feet touched the cold pavement. She absently closed the truck door and looked around, shivering in the damp chill. The sign on the nearest building read "Fashven Shipping".

"Fashven," she thought. "That's in Scotland! I know someone in Scotland, but who? Why can't I remember?" She moved away from the quiet hustle of the warehouse, searching for something which would trigger her memory.

Several times, as she walked along the dock, she thought she heard something behind her, but when she turned, there was nothing there. She saw a billboard, advertising ladies' apparel, and she stopped to look at the picture of fine ladies in fancy clothes. She noticed that the shop was located at 201 Willoughby Dr. She frowned at the abbreviation. Dr. stood for drive, she knew, but it also stood for doctor. Dr. MacTaggert! She was in Scotland! Perhaps she could help. Star began to look for a phone.


"None o' these apes've got a clue about where ta find Star," Wolverine snarled. "Jeannie have any luck?"

"Not so far, sugah," Rogue answered. He slammed his hand into the wall in frustration. "Take it easy, sugah! We'll find the little gal." The other X-Men watched their ferocious ally sadly, knowing that this was hardest of all on him.

"It's no use, Scott. I can't find a trace of either Star or the boy," Jean said quietly. "They were here, Wolverine confirmed that, but I can't tell where they've gone. Perhaps the Professor would have better luck. I'll return to the blackbird and contact him."

"All right, Jean. I don't think there is anything else to be learned here. Henry," Scott said, turning to Beast. "Any luck with the computer records?"

"I have down loaded the contents of the files into storage discs that we may study at our leisure, but there did not appear to be any reference to the ultimate destination of our quarry."

"All right, people. Let's get out of here." Cyclops looked around for a moment, "And somebody go find Wolverine."

"I find him, mes amies," Gambit said from the doorway, his nimble fingers endlessly flicking the card he held back and forth.

"Thanks, Gambit. Let's get loaded up."

The X-Men quickly filed out of the building and boarded the waiting plane. A few minutes later, Gambit and Wolverine joined them.

The plane took off without a sound, while an equally silent Wolverine stared out the window, fury warring with grief in his eyes.


Star finally found a phone, though it was strange looking, and the buttons with which she was familiar had been replaced by a dial. She had never needed to use a public phone, and wasn't really sure how to go about placing a call. She studied the faded diagram above the phone. She wasn't even sure the phone pictured was the same as the unit actually present. She picked up the handset and hesitantly dialed zero. After a moment the phone buzzed sharply and she nearly dropped the handset. She tentatively returned the speaker to her ear as the phone buzzed again. Then a woman answered.

"Operator."

"Hello?" Star said.

"This is the Operator, how can I help ye?"

"I ... need to speak with Dr. MacTaggert, please."

"Is this an emergency?"

"Not ... exactly."

"Then please call information for assistance."

"But I," Star began when the line went dead. "I don't know how." Star sighed and, shivering, the warmth of the truck cab only a fading memory, tried again.

"Operator," a different voice answered.

"I need to speak with Dr. MacTaggert and I don't know how to reach information," Star said in a rush.

"All right, lass. I'll see if I can get the number for ye." There was a long silence and Star was beginning to think the woman had disconnected her, when she came back on the line.

"I do nae show any Dr. MacTaggert in yer area, though there are several MacTaggerts. Are ye sure yer Dr. MacTaggert lives in Fashven?"

"No, she ... lives on an island."

"An island. Let's see, that would probably be Muir Island. Ah, here i' tis. The doctor is not listed separately, but there is a research facility out there. Do ye have something to write the number down on?"

"Uh," Star looked around, but there wasn't so much as a scrap of paper drifting across the dock. She thought she saw someone watching her from the shadows of an alley, and considered calling out to them, but they disappeared from sight. "No, I don't."

"Well then, I'll connect ye. Please deposit half a crown for the call."

"What?"

"Deposit ... do ye have any money, lass?"

"No." The woman sighed.

"Well, we'll just reverse the charges, then. I'll need yer name, to tell them who's calling."

"My name?"

"Yes, dear." The woman reminded Star of Jean, very motherly.

"My name ... is ... " she fought to clear the fog in her head. "Star! My name is Star."

"Star? Are ye sure, girl? That sounds like a nickname."

"Uh," Star thought for a minute. "Logan, I think it's Emily Logan."

"Ye think? Girl, are ye all right?"

"I ... will be if you can get Dr. MacTaggert for me. I think."

"Hold the line. Don't ye be hanging up on me, now. This might take a bit."

"Thank you."


At the Muir Island Research Facility, also home of the mutant team Excalibur, the phone rang for several minutes in the early morning darkness. Finally, a bleary eyed Kurt Wagner, also known as Nightcrawler, picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Good marning, sir. I have a call fer a Dr. MacTaggert, charges reversed. Would he be there tae accept?"

"Our Dr. MacTaggert is a she. And who vould be calling this early, anyvay?"

"My apologies, sir. Tis Emily Logan, calling. Will ye accept the charges?"

"Logan? Vhy vould he call collect?"

"Tis a lass on this end as well, sir. An' truth be told, sir, she sounds verra frightened."

"Put her through, then."

"Shall I stay on the line?"

"Um, yes. Until you are certain she's been connected."

"Verra good, sir."

"Operator?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Thank you."

"Yuir welcome, sir."


As Star waited for the operator to complete her call, she realized that the person she had seen in the alley had returned. She watched the man emerge from the shadow and begin to walk toward her. A second man, then a third, stepped out of the alley behind him. She was suddenly frightened of them, but she did not want to leave the phone. She hoped they would just keep going. She realized suddenly that they weren't much more than just boys. Just like the men in the mall had been. She frowned, trying to remember. Why was she afraid of them just because they reminded her of someone in a mall? What was wrong with her memory?

The first man reached her, and leaned on the pole holding the phone, his arms crossed.

"Who said ye could use that phone, ye harlot?"

"What?"

"That phone is on our ground, an' I don't recall givin' ye permission tae use it."

"I needed to call ..." she began, and the man reached for her. She blocked his hands, but dropped the handset in the process, just as she heard a click.

"Ye've got tae pay tae use our property, isn't that so, lads?" he asked, advancing on her. She backed away cautiously, with a regretful glance at the phone, dangling by its cord.

"Hello?" she heard a tinny voice speak from the receiver. "Hello? Operator, are you still there?"

"Operator, are you still there?" Kurt asked.

"Aye, sir."

"She's not answering." He heard several clicks as the operator typed on something.

"The line's still open, sir. Perhaps I should call the police."

"Vhere vas she calling from?"

"Fashven, sir."

"No, I mean, exactly vhere?"

"Tis a public phone, at the north end of the main shipping dock."

"Dankeshan, I know the place."

"Shall I call the police, sir?" the operator asked. Her only answer was an odd "Bamf!" sound. She disconnected, and called the police.


The man continued to move toward her, and his companions had begun to spread out, trying to get behind her, or cut her off. She moved backwards, trying to keep all three of them in front of her. She bumped into something, and when she stumbled the man on her left lunged for her. She moved aside, but he caught a handful of her shirt. The garment, much too large, tore as she spun, kicking him and breaking his knee as she turned. He released her and fell to the dock, gasping. The first man glanced at his companion, then turned back to Star, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Ye should nae ha' done that," he snarled, reaching behind his back. "Now I have tae kill ye." When his hand came into view again, he held a long bladed knife. She noted that he carried the blade as if he knew how to use it. If she'd had more time, she might have wondered how she knew that. The third man dropped back, to give his leader room to wield his weapon. She realized that she had backed up until she was across from an opening between two warehouses. Without hesitation, she plunged into the darkness. She had only gone a few steps when she knew that, encumbered as she was, she had no hope of outrunning him. In fact, she thought as she listened to her pursuers, she probably wouldn't make it to the end of the alley. She saw what appeared to be a broom handle sticking out of a trash can. It would have to do. She snatched it as she ran past. It wasn't a broom handle! It was a broken gaffing hook. She stopped abruptly and faced the men. They stared at her, surprised that she no longer tried to run.

She held the broken tool in front of her with both hands, one toward each end. When the man slashed at her with the blade, she shifted her makeshift staff slightly toward him. The second man tried to rush her. She spun the staff and struck him across the face, knocking him down and, for the moment at least, out. She faced the knifeman once more, no longer aware of the cold, though her skin was tinged blue from it.

"Yer good, girl. But not good enough." He took a step forward, and she echoed his move by stepping back. "I'm goin' tae kill ye slow, for what ye've done tae me lads." He looked her up and down, still advancing as she retreated. "When I'm finished wi' ye here, I'll take ye tae a quiet place I know, where we will nae be disturbed while I cut ye apart. The last thing I'll do before I let ye die is tae cut the bairn from yer belly and feed it tae me hound." Star felt her belly tighten at the threat to her child. She began to tremble, but not with fear. She straightened slightly and stopped retreating. The grinning knifeman's smile faltered for an instant when their eyes met.

Then he looked past her and his grin returned. She heard them approach, but did not turn. She could hear two of them, but she could smell a third. She knew she must take him out first, for if he could move that quietly, he was undoubtedly a deadlier foe even than the knifeman. She waited, feeling the rage building within her.

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