by Greg Cox
Then it tumbled toward Earth, hundreds of miles below.
* * *
Klaxons blared inside the Kryptonian science ward. Regaining his full strength, Superman tore loose his remaining shackles and jumped off the examination table. It felt good to back on his feet again.
Jor-El appeared before him.
“Father!” Superman exclaimed. “Is it true? What Zod said about the Codex?”
The hologram nodded.
Superman tried to understand.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
Heavy footsteps beat a military tattoo outside. He heard a couple of Kryptonian soldiers running toward the lab. Charged plasma rifles were locked and loaded. The soldiers fired through the doorway as he ducked for cover. He hadn’t forgotten how that plasma whip had stung him back on Ellesmere.
White-hot bursts scalded the walls and table, and ricocheted wildly around the lab. Superman raised his cape to shield himself from the flying energy.
“We’re out of time,” Jor-El said. “Strike the panel to your left.”
Superman had many more questions, but his father was right—now was not the time for a lengthy discussion. Trusting Jor-El, he punched the indicated panel. A fist of steel tore through a solid bulkhead, puncturing the outer hull of the Black Zero.
Hurricane winds roared as the science ward’s atmosphere was sucked out into the vacuum of space. The breach expanded, and loose apparatus vanished through it, caught up by the explosive decompression. It reminded Superman of the tornado that had carried away Jonathan Kent, so many years ago. Pushing the painful memory aside, he dug his fingers into a sturdy bulkhead, anchoring himself against the voracious pull.
Screeching emergency sirens competed with the wail of the cyclone.
Have to hold on, he thought. Just a few more seconds.
A metal plate slammed into place, cutting the compromised science ward off from the rest of the ship, while locking out the soldiers on the other side of the airtight barrier. With any luck, that would slow them down long enough for him to escape the Black Zero— and for Jor-El to provide some answers.
“We wanted you to learn what it meant to be human first,” the hologram said, “so that one day, when the time was right, you could build a bridge between the two races.”
That provided the reassurance Superman had needed. He’d known that Zod had to be wrong, that Jor-El had never intended for him to recreate Krypton on Earth, or to betray humanity. Moved by his birth father’s faith in him, he reached out without thinking, but his fingers passed through the holographic figure.
Jor-El wasn’t really there.
Only his ghost.
“From the moment I first laid eyes on you,” the image said, “I knew you were meant for greatness.”
And Jonathan Kent once told me I would change the world, Superman recalled. He vowed to live up to their expectations—both of them.
Then a motion distracted him, visible through the rent in the hull. He realized that it was an escape pod, falling toward Earth’s atmosphere, heating up as it entered the atmosphere. A fiery glow enveloped its outer plating— it was accelerating out of control, as though its braking systems were malfunctioning.
Even across the void of space, he could see who was inside the pod. She looked scared to death.
“Lois—”
“You can save her, Kal,” his father said. “You can save all of them.”
Superman prayed he was right. He took a deep breath of the escaping air, filling his lungs, and dived though the breach into space. Momentum carried him away from the Black Zero and he let Earth’s gravity pull him down toward the planet below. His telescopic vision locked onto the glowing escape pod as he pivoted and shifted direction, taking off in a controlled dive.
His fists thrust out before him, he plunged into the turbulent atmosphere.
Hold on, Lois, he thought. I’m coming!
* * *
The ride was bumpier than Lois had expected. Maybe too bumpy.
The escape pod shook violently, rattling her despite the straps that held her fast to her seat. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, and struggled to keep her lunch down. Vertigo assailed her as the pod spun like a carnival ride. It was all she could to do to keep from screaming.
It was getting hotter and hotter inside the confined space, and dangerously so. It felt like a sauna, heading toward a furnace. She was soaked with perspiration. Alarms squealed in her ears. Warning lights blinked frantically all over the control panels.
Car-Vex had fired a blast of plasma at the pod before it ejected. Had the deflected shot done some serious damage?
Something’s wrong, Lois realized. This thing should be slowing down by now...
* * *
The malfunctioning pod was heading in for a crash landing. Its heat shields were barely holding on—the outer plates were melting into slag and peeling away. Gravity tightened its grip, accelerating it to terminal velocity. Even if the heat shields held a few minutes longer, there was no way Lois could survive the impact if and when the pod hit the Earth. Her fragile human body would be crushed to a pulp.
That’s not going to happen, Superman resolved.
Racing against time and gravity, he dived after the falling object, increasing his speed, desperate to catch up with it before time ran out. The wind whipped against his face as he plummeted toward the Great Plains. The sun shone down, fueling his flight. His red cape streamed behind him like the tail of a meteor, and his blue-and-red uniform withstood the heat of reentry.
Gaining on the pod, he almost came within reach of it. His arm stretched and his fingers grazed its molten husk, only for it to spin out of his grasp, continuing its deadly freefall. Despite the roar of the wind, he could hear Lois gasping inside the pod. Her heart was pounding frantically. She had to know she was only moments away from crashing.
No! Superman thought. I can still save her. I can’t let her die!
The Earth seemed to rocket up to meet them. There would be just one more chance, so he dug deep to fly faster than he ever had before. With one last burst of speed, he managed to get a solid grip, sinking his bare fingers into the molten metal. The entry hatch was fused shut, but grunting with effort, he tore it off and hurled it away.
Lois tumbled out, and into his arms.
* * *
At first, she didn’t realize what was happening. Metal screamed as the door flew off into the clouds and she fell into empty air. A pair of strong arms caught her and a broad blue chest absorbed the impact, cushioning her against a bright red “S.” Glancing down, she saw the scorched remains of the pod slam into the ground like a bullet, exploding on impact.
Flames, smoke, and shrapnel rose into the sky, but Superman shielded her with his body, taking the brunt of the blast without even flinching. He held her high above the ground as clouds of thick white smoke billowed around them. He really was a Superman, she realized. A veritable Man of Steel.
And he had just saved her life... again.
Does this count as our second date? she wondered.
He carried her away from the smoking crater, cradling her in his arms, before descending to the Earth with amazing grace and precision. She barely felt a bump as he landed upon the well-tended lawn of the Smallville Cemetery. He gently put her down on a lonely knoll overlooking the town. A cool breeze provided relief after the overheated interior of the escape pod.
“You’ll be safe here,” he promised. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and looked to the horizon. Unlike the tranquil rural vista she remembered, smoke and flames rose up from acres of burning cornfields. She assumed that Zod was responsible—and felt a twinge of guilt.
“I didn’t want to tell them anything about you,” she said. “But they did something to me, looked inside my mind...”
That was why Zod had insisted on having her brought aboard his ship. He had monitored all those news reports linking her to Superman, and had wanted to f
ind out everything she had learned about him.
Is this my fault? She contemplated the conflagration spreading rapidly below. Did I lead Zod to Smallville?
“Me, too,” Superman assured her. “It’s okay.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked out over burning fields. She guessed that he was seeing—and hearing—a whole lot more than she did. Judging from his grim expression, things were bad.
“I have to go,” he said.
She didn’t want him to, and it seemed as if he didn’t want to leave her, either. He was more than just a story to her now. She felt a connection between them—and an attraction—that was stronger than gravity. They gazed at each other for a long moment, neither saying what they were feeling.
Maybe it was just the adrenaline rush, but she had never wanted to kiss anyone more than she wanted to kiss Superman—no, Clark—right this very minute.
But the moment passed, washed away by the tide of events, and he took to the sky. She watched in wonder as he flew toward Smallville, faster than the eye could follow. Within seconds, he was out of sight.
She wondered if she would ever get used to that.
A siren wailed in the distance. Turning around, she spotted a sheriff’s vehicle, its gumball light spinning, speeding toward the crash site. She ran toward the road, waving her arms to flag the car down.
Jor-El had given her a mission. She knew what she had to do next.
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R
Dusty barked furiously at the front door. Martha shut off her vacuum cleaner and crossed the living room to see what had the collie so agitated. Worry lines deepened around her eyes and mouth. Her brow furrowed. What if the government had come looking for Clark? Or someone worse was?
She locked Dusty inside and stepped out onto the front porch. A smoky odor alerted her to a fire somewhere in the vicinity. High-pitched squeals heralded the arrival of two exotic aircraft that bore an unmistakable resemblance to the alien space capsule hidden in the barn. The ships descended out of a sunny sky and landed on the yard in front of the farmhouse.
She stepped down from the porch, ready to face their occupants.
Martha had been dreading a moment like this for over thirty years, afraid that Clark’s alien kin would show up to reclaim him, but now that it was finally happening, she had no idea what she was supposed to do.
Except protect her son, of course.
Four Kryptonians in armored suits, black capes, and helmets exited the ships. Unearthly and intimidating, they resembled futuristic gods of war. One of the intruders was a giant who towered over his companions, while another was shaped like a woman. The strangers spread out and surrounded her, but Martha didn’t bother trying to flee. If they were even half as fast and strong as Clark, she wouldn’t get far.
The leader came forward. She recognized his voice from the broadcast that had panicked the world. A transparent helmet protected his head. A black cape fluttered in the wind.
“The craft he arrived in,” Zod demanded. “Where is it?”
She didn’t like his tone.
“Go to hell,” she said, not knowing if he’d understand the reference.
He scowled behind the shimmering visor of his helmet, then nodded at the statuesque female soldier accompanying him.
“Faora,” he said curtly.
The alien amazon grabbed Martha by the throat and lifted her off the ground with one hand. Martha’s feet dangled in the air as fingers that felt like bands of steel locked onto her throat. A strangled gasp escaped her lips.
“You raised him,” the woman said coldly. “You know what he’s capable of. Now imagine that kind of power in the hands of someone who could not care less about you.”
With that, she hurled Martha to the ground.
I won’t tell you anything, Martha thought angrily. You’re nothing like my son!
But Zod had already lost interest in her. He scanned the farm with eyes that might be able to see as far and deep as Clark’s. Martha’s heart sank as he squinted at the old threshing barn, which had been converted into a tool shed. He pointed at the building.
“There,” he said.
* * *
Faora leapt fifty feet into the air, arcing across the farm to crash through the roof of the barn and past its floor as well. Landing in the musty basement, she yanked off the tarp concealing the capsule. Her gloved fingers dug into the blackened hull and she ripped off the canopy. Impatient eyes scanned the interior of the starcraft. Then she snarled in disappointment.
“The Codex isn’t here.”
Zod yanked Martha from the ground and flung her across the yard. She hit the grass hard enough to knock the breath from her. Her whole body felt bruised and sore. She would be lucky if she hadn’t broken any bones.
“Where has he hidden it?” he demanded.
Martha wasn’t sure what a “Codex” was. Maybe that spiked black key they’d found in the space capsule? Last she knew, Clark had taken it with him to the Arctic.
She decided to play dumb.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Don’t lie to me!” he bellowed, losing his temper. An aging John Deere tractor was parked beside the barn. Zod irritably swatted it aside with the back of his hand as he marched toward her. Eight thousand pounds of rusty green metal crashed into the corner of the house. Wooden timbers splintered and a section of roof crumbled. Dusty barked frantically inside, but Zod paid no heed to the frightened animal.
He glared furiously at Martha.
“WHERE IS THE CODEX?”
I wouldn’t tell you for all the tea in China, she thought.
He reached for her again, but before he could grab hold, a sonic boom thundered above the farm, rattling the decrepit windmill. Zod and his cronies turned their eyes upward, searching for the source of the boom. Lying on the ground, Martha spotted a red-and-blue blur streaking down from the sky.
Clark?
* * *
With the impact of a locomotive, Superman slammed into Zod at hypersonic speed. The force of the blow sent the Zod bouncing across the rural landscape. Superman zoomed after him, determined to carry the fight as far from the Kent farm—as far from his mother—as possible.
They crashed through a grain elevator on the outskirts of Smallville without even slowing down. A cascade of wheat poured from the breached concrete silo, while the heat of their passage ignited the highly combustible grain dust, triggering a chain of explosions that blew off the roof. A tremendous fireball shot into the sky, even as the warring Kryptonians kept on hurtling through the air, leaving the burning facility behind.
Momentum sent them sailing through a 7-Eleven at the edge of the main commercial strip. Glass shattered as they tore in through one wall and out the other. Terrified customers ran screaming into the street, spilling their Slurpees onto the pavement. The roof of the convenience store caved in. Sparks sprayed from broken neon lights.
A gas station was the next victim of their headlong trajectory, which had traversed dozens of miles in less than a minute. The filling station exploded into flames as Superman and Zod barreled through the pumps, ripping them from their foundations. Thick black smoke rose from the inferno. A gassy odor leaked into the air. Debris rained down from sky.
Panicked men, women, and children ran for cover, seeking the dubious safety of the surrounding shops and businesses. Old men fled their benches. Tires squealed as drivers hit the gas, speeding away from the war zone that the downtown had become. A siren wailed from the fire station, as though a tornado was approaching. People hid in barber shops and beauty salons, as well as the bank, drug store, and gym.
The combatants finally came to a stop in the middle of Main Street. Superman was the first to rise to his feet. Anger was written all over his face. He raised his fists.
“You think you can threaten my mother?”
Zod staggered to his feet, shaken and off-balance. Burning gasoline blazed across his cape and he yanked it angrily from his
shoulders. His force-helmet was cracked and sputtering, deformed by its collision with Superman’s fists. Unable to maintain its integrity, it began to dematerialize.
Zod blinked as he tried to bring his vision into focus. He stared at his hands in bewilderment.
Superman could guess what he was seeing—the same shifting electromagnetic spectrum that had overwhelmed Clark as a small child, the world ablaze with disorienting colors, the deafening cacophony of a million amplified sounds.
Finally Zod’s helmet dissolved in a shower of sparks, leaving his face and lungs fully exposed to Earth’s atmosphere. Gasping, he reeled away. He threw his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to muffle the sonic barrage. He choked on his words as he glared furiously at his foe.
“What have you done to me?” he demanded, but his words carried little of the usual command.
“Found your Achilles heel,” Superman said. “My parents taught me to hone my senses, Zod. Focus on just the things I wanted to see, and tune out everything else.”
He advanced on his enemy. It was time to finish this, before anyone else got hurt.
“But without your helmet, you can’t focus. You’re getting everything. And it’s too much, isn’t it?”
A dropship flared in overhead, coming to Zod’s rescue. Plasma cannons fired at Superman, knocking him backward into a parked delivery truck, which crumpled when he hit it. Momentarily stunned, he pulled himself out of the demolished truck even as the ship touched down in the street. One of Zod’s lieutenants rushed out and hurriedly dragged his general to safety.
Forget it, Superman thought, determined to stop them from getting away. He started toward the ship, only to be blocked by Faora and another soldier, who suddenly leapt into the street before him.
Superman gaped at the sight of the woman’s comrade, who was at least nine feet tall. An opaque helmet concealed the giant’s features. Wide in the chest, with fists like anvils, he put any human bodybuilder to shame. He overheard Faora address the brute as Nam-Ek. They looked as if they were spoiling for a fight.
Smack dab in the middle of Smallville.
Superman was acutely conscious of his surroundings, and of the countless innocent lives at risk. He scanned the downtown area with his X-ray vision, noting dozens of scared and helpless people taking cover in the nearby buildings. Parents clutched their crying children. Clerks and customers cowered behind shelves and counters while calling for help on their cell phones.