by Greg Cox
“I’ve been threatened with death before, General,” she responded. “It doesn’t scare me.”
“Then what about the aliens that levied this ultimatum?” he countered. “Because they sure as hell scare me.”
Lois knew how he felt, but she held her tongue. Clark wasn’t like them—he wasn’t the enemy, of that much she was sure.
“He’s not human, Ms. Lane.” Swanwick pounded on his desk in frustration. “Why are you protecting him?”
“I’m not!” she blurted. “He doesn’t need my protection. We need his.” She tried her damnedest to make them understand. “If we give him up, there’s no one left to stop them. They know that. That’s why they want him!”
The general’s aide, Captain Farris, rushed into the office. She was breathless, and very flustered.
“Sir, we’ve, umm, got a situation out at the North Gate.”
* * *
Swanwick had read the leaked accounts of Lane’s experiences in Arctic. He had been briefed on the alien’s alleged superhuman abilities. Even so, as his Humvee pulled up to the gate, he rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
A caped figure, clad in red, blue, and gold, hovered in the air above the base’s main gate, brazenly defying gravity. A stylized “S” was emblazoned on the chest of his uniform, while his crimson cape flapped gently in the wind. A dark-haired Caucasian male, the man matched the description of the alien who had infiltrated the base at Ellesmere—and absconded with the buried spaceship.
He looked surprisingly human.
Battle-clad soldiers scrambled in response to the incursion, bringing their weapons to bear, but the floating stranger appeared unconcerned by the battery of automatic rifles, handguns, and missile launchers that were targeting him. Swanwick wondered what he knew that they didn’t.
He and Hardy got out of the vehicle. He approached the intruder.
“All right,” Swanwick said. “You’ve got our attention. What do you want?”
“I want to talk to Lois Lane.”
Swanwick hedged, testing the intruder’s intel.
“What makes you think she’s here?”
“Don’t play games with me, General,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll surrender. But only if you guarantee Lois’s freedom.”
Swanwick weighed his options. Taking the alien into custody seemed worth the risk. He nodded, and the figure descended to the pavement, touching down as lightly as an army chopper—or a dancer.
An armed security team cuffed the prisoner and marched him toward the compound. Experienced military personnel, most of whom had seen combat, nervously watched as he passed by. Nothing in their training had prepared them for a close encounter like this.
The general found himself pining for the good old days, when all he’d had to worry about were terrorists and rogue nations. Not strange visitors from another planet.
* * *
Despite herself, Lois was relieved to see Clark again. He sat opposite her in a sterile white containment cell, his cuffed hands resting in his lap. She assumed they were being monitored by about a zillion cameras, scanners, and recording devices. A long rectangular mirror occupied one wall of the cell, and Lois had seen enough cop shows to know they had a live audience, as well.
“Why are you surrendering to Zod?” she asked.
“I’m not,” he answered. “I’m surrendering myself to mankind. There’s a difference.” He sounded certain, as if he had thought long and hard about his decision, and was at peace with his choice. “It’s your world. I’m letting you—all of you—decide what happens next.”
She glanced at his wrists.
“You let them cuff you.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a surrender if I resisted.” He shrugged. “If it makes them feel more secure, all the better.”
She turned her attention to the colorful blue-and-red costume he had donned for the occasion. It was a far cry from the ordinary, civilian attire she’d always seen him in before. Her gaze zeroed in on the emblem on his chest.
“So what does the ‘S’ stand for?”
“It’s not an ‘S,’” he explained. “On my world, it means ‘hope.’”
“Well, here it’s an ‘S.’” She thought it over, searching for something more headline-friendly. “So how about... Superman?”
He blushed slightly, which she found rather charming.
“Sounds a little showy,” he said.
And that suit isn’t? she thought. The way she saw it, anything was better than “Scary Alien Guy.”
Superman it is, she decided.
* * *
The observation room on other side of the two-way mirror was packed with military brass and scientists, all getting their first close look at the alien as he interacted with Lane. Swanwick wasn’t sure what he thought about this whole “Superman” business, but figured it was as good a label as any, at least until they uncovered his true identity.
“He seems so human,” Carrie Farris observed.
“The similarities are only skin deep, I assure you,” Dr. Hamilton said. He and his fellow brainiacs were hunched over an array of remote-imaging monitors. A battery of sensors had been deployed to probe the alien’s anatomy using everything from infrared to ultrasound. “Based on these readings, his muscles and bones are considerably denser than ours.”
“What about flight?” Swanwick asked. “How can he keep aloft?”
“I have no idea,” Hamilton admitted. “Some kind of bio-electric field?”
Superman turned toward the mirror.
“I don’t know how I fly. I just do.”
Swanwick and the others twitched in surprise. What the devil, the general thought. That cell is supposed to be soundproof.
“I can hear you just fine, general,” the alien said. “Your heartbeats, too. So I wouldn’t advise lying to me.”
Hamilton leaned forward and keyed the intercom.
“Sir, my name is—”
“Dr. Emil Hamilton, I know.” Superman seemed to look straight through the mirror at them. “I can see your ID in your breast pocket. Along with a half-eaten roll of Wintergreen Lifesavers.”
The scientist sheepishly checked his pocket. Then he nodded in confirmation.
Superman shifted his gaze, looking directly at Swanwick.
“You should know that I can see those soldiers in the next room, readying that ‘tranquilizing agent’ of yours.”
Sure enough, another monitor showed the soldiers preparing a high-tech injector system designed by DARPA. Swanwick had been assured that even without a needle, the injector would penetrate the alien’s skin, no matter how dense it was. At least, in theory.
“You won’t need it,” Superman said. “And even if you did, I doubt it would work on me.”
The alien’s confidence was both unnerving and annoying. He had already demonstrated sensory abilities beyond anything they had anticipated. Who knew what other tricks he had up his steel-blue sleeve?
Swanwick irritably signaled his soldiers to stand down.
“You can’t expect us not to take precautions,” Hamilton stated. “What if you’re carrying some kind of alien pathogen?”
“I’ve been here for thirty-three years, doctor. I haven’t infected anyone yet.”
“That you know of,” Swanwick said. “I’m sorry, but your assurances aren’t good enough. We have legitimate security concerns.” He nodded at Lois, confident that Superman could see him through the mirror. “You’ve revealed your identity to Ms. Lane here. Why won’t you do the same with us?”
Superman rose from the table and approached the mirror. Fearful scientists and technicians backed away from the glass.
“Let’s put our cards on the table, general,” the alien said. “You’re scared of me because you can’t control me. You don’t. And you never will. But that doesn’t mean I’m your enemy.”
Swanwick wished he could believe him.
“Then who is?” he asked. “Zod?”
“That’s what I’m worrie
d about, yes.”
Then we have that in common, Swanwick thought, if you’re telling the truth. Then he said, “Be that as it may, I have been given orders to hand you over to him.”
The general braced himself for Superman’s reaction, and Farris placed her hand on her sidearm. But their visitor accepted the news with a stoic expression. If he was disappointed in humanity for acceding to Zod’s demands, it was difficult to tell. He just nodded gravely
“Do what you have to do, then.”
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y
Dawn was rising as assault teams massed on an airfield outside NORTHCOM’s command center. General Swanwick, Dr. Hamilton, Colonel Hardy and Captain Farris were already positioned behind concrete barriers. All eyes were on Superman and Lois, who were standing by themselves in the middle of the airfield. Spotlights lit up the scene.
“If I don’t come back,” he said, “I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?” she asked.
“Believing in me. Not revealing my identity.”
She shook her head glumly.
“Didn’t make much difference in the end.”
“It did to me.”
After a lifetime of hiding, it felt strange and oddly liberating to have revealed himself to the world at last. She squeezed his hand as they watched the sun rise. Finally he lifted his eyes to the sky, waiting. He heard a whooshing sound high above them.
“They’re coming,” he said. “You should go.”
She peered upward, unable to see what he was seeing. She hesitated, clearly reluctant to abandon him. He appreciated her loyalty, but he wanted her out of harm’s way.
“Go, Lois.” His voice was firm.
She didn’t argue the point, thank heavens, and retreated behind the security cordon, where she joined General Swanwick and the others. With any luck, Swanwick would honor their agreement and release her once he was gone.
Superman continued to listen to the approaching spacecraft, which was louder now, and eavesdropped on the NORTHCOM folks from several yards away, as well.
“Do we have a backup plan if this goes pear-shaped?” Dr. Hamilton asked.
“Only the unthinkable one,” Swanwick said. “Code words have already been issued.”
Superman visualized mushroom clouds exploding above Earth. He prayed it wouldn’t come to that. He had met too many people he admired, all across the planet, to wish such a fate on his adopted world.
A light appeared in the sky as a Kryptonian dropship came into view. He recognized the basic design from Jor-El’s history lessons. About the size of the Debbie Sue, the ship resembled a giant mutant insect with a hard, impervious shell. Delta-shaped, it was aerodynamically designed to travel through both planetary atmospheres and the vacuum of space. Its thrusters flared brightly as it came in for a landing.
Hardened soldiers gasped and checked their weapons. A few crossed themselves or offered up murmured prayers. Despite his apprehensions regarding Zod’s agenda, Superman felt a tremor of excitement, as well. These were his people, after all. For the first time in his life, he was about to meet other living Kryptonians.
Maybe this was just a reunion?
The dropship touched down on the tarmac. Segmented limbs served as landing gear. A valve slid open and a solitary figure emerged in a haze of heat vapor. Clearly female, she wore an intimidating suit of jet-black armor. Jagged fins added to the uniform’s fearsome aspect. A space helmet, with a visor that consisted of an opaque force field, concealed her features—even from his X-ray vision.
She walked briskly across the runway toward Superman; confidence echoed in her every step. She saluted him with military precision and activated a control on her armor. Her visor went transparent, revealing the striking feature of an attractive female with short dark hair and icy brown eyes. Like Jor-El, she could easily have been mistaken for human.
“Kal-El,” she addressed him. “My name is SubCommander Faora-Ul. On behalf of General Zod, I extend you his greetings.”
She walked past Superman toward the security perimeter. Wary soldiers placed her in their sights, but she stopped before crossing the proverbial line in the sand. She nodded at General Swanwick, who watched her from behind a concrete barrier. Her body language conveyed a disdainful hauteur.
“Are you the ranking officer here?” she asked.
Swanwick nodded. “I am.”
She pointed at Lois, who was standing with Swanwick and the rest.
“General Zod would like this woman to accompany us.”
Colonel Hardy instinctively stepped in front of Lois. He shook his head.
“You asked for the alien,” he protested. “You didn’t say anything about one of our own citizens.”
Faora arched an eyebrow, clearly amused by Hardy’s defiance. Ignoring the colonel, she spoke directly to Swanwick instead.
“Shall I tell General Zod you are unwilling to comply?” The implied threat could not have been clearer.
“It’s all right,” Lois said. She squeezed past Hardy. “I’ll go.”
Swanwick and Hardy both stared at her in surprise, but they were in no position to argue. Swallowing his pride, the general allowed her to cross the security perimeter. Faora turned her back on the military brass and gestured for Lois to follow. They crossed the tarmac toward Superman.
“Lois,” he said anxiously. “What are you doing?”
She rejoined him next to the Kryptonian vessel.
“I’ve been at the center of this story from the beginning,” she said, and she shrugged. “I might as well see it through to the end.”
Superman didn’t like it one bit. He looked Faora in the eye.
“I’m not letting you take her,” he said firmly
Faora smirked, unimpressed.
“I was bred to kill, son of El. As were my crewmates. The specific areas of our brains governing conscience were altered, so that we are genetically incapable of feeling empathy toward our enemies.” She tilted her head toward the troops that surrounded them. “Knowing this, do you really wish to see us engage the humans arrayed around us?”
So much for a happy reunion, Superman thought. His worst fears had been confirmed. Zod’s people were just as ruthless as Jor-El had suggested. If they possessed the same abilities he did, he could only imagine what they could do to Swanwick and his people. The fragile soldiers wouldn’t stand a chance.
He had no choice but to let them take Lois as well.
Faora knew she had the upper hand. She turned the visor opaque once more, hiding her cruel smile behind a faceless forcefield. Superman took Lois’s hand as they reluctantly boarded the dropship. As the door slid shut behind them, he glanced back at the human authorities who had delivered him into Zod’s hands. He could hear their hearts pounding.
Captain Farris had a guilty look on her face. She looked away, and Swanwick noted her reaction.
“You have something to say, Captain?” he asked.
“Just wondering if we did the right thing, sir.”
Swanwick watched the alien ship take off into the sky.
“Believe me, so am I.”
* * *
Lois had always dreamed of being the first reporter in space. This wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined it, but she supposed it would have to do. She sat beside Clark—no, Superman—in the cockpit of the dropship as it flew beyond the atmosphere and into the vacuum. The ship rolled laterally and Earth came into view through a transparent port. Despite her perilous situation, Lois was overcome with wonder at the sight of the cloudy blue orb rotating below her. She had seen orbital photographs of Earth before, naturally, but that was nothing like looking down on the planet with her own eyes.
Holy cow, she thought. I’m in space... for real.
The big question, of course, was whether she would ever set foot on Earth again, now that she had literally been abducted by aliens. Or did it still count as an abduction if you volunteered—even under duress?
Superman took her hand again. Although sh
e knew he was capable of crushing her bones to powder, his grip was both firm and gentle. To her surprise, he slipped something into her palm before withdrawing his hand.
What’s this?
Faora was busy piloting the ship, so Lois risked a peek at the object Superman had surreptitiously passed to her. It was short black spike marked with the S-sigil he wore on his chest.
Hope, she remembered. It stands for hope.
She shot him a quizzical look. He responded with a barely perceptible shake his head. She got the message.
Not now.
Wait.
But for what?
The ship rolled again, bringing their destination into view. The gigantic alien vessel, whose televised image had captivated the entire world, hovered before them. The squid-like mothership was easily as tall as the Daily Planet building, and several times larger than the huge spacecraft she’d found buried under that glacier on Ellesmere. Three mechanical tentacles hung beneath its immense obsidian mantle. Lois flinched slightly, recalling the tentacled robot that had nearly killed her.
What is it with the Kryptonians and scary pseudopods?
“Behold the Black Zero,” Faora said proudly.
The name meant nothing to Lois. Maybe it lost something in the translation.
An airlock slid open in the hull of the larger vessel. Faora piloted the dropship inside and touched down. The door slid shut again.
A reception committee composed of yet more alien soldiers saluted Faora as she exited with the visitors from Earth. Lois was surprised—and a little disappointed— to discover that some manner of artificial gravity was in place aboard the Black Zero. Her feet remained squarely on the floor.
Faora removed her helmet. She took a deep breath of the ship’s pressurized air.
“The atmospheric composition on our ship isn’t compatible with humans,” she divulged. “You will need to wear a breather beyond this point.”
She wasn’t kidding. Lois was already finding it hard to breathe. She gasped, and her lungs burned.
A female Kryptonian, whom Faora addressed as Car-Vex, fitted Lois with a respirator helmet. It was a trifle claustrophobic, but at least she could breathe more easily.
“Are you all right?” Superman asked.
