Supergirl

by Jo Whittemore

  J’onn leaned back against a counter. “The orichalcum was leaching into the water. The divers weren’t getting what they wanted; they were getting powers that gave them what they wanted.”

  “Yes,” said Dr. Wanabi. “But I didn’t know that. I figured they’d found a”—he flexed his fingers, as if plucking the words from the air—“magic lamp or wishing coin.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I know that sounds ridiculous.”

  Supergirl snorted. “A magical imp once tried to make me his bride. Trust me. We get a lot of ridiculous around here.”

  “So, Dr. Wanabi, you and your friend decided to search for Atlantis?” prompted J’onn.

  “Yes,” said Dr. Wanabi, “but we needed money for the expedition, so we partnered with a diving company that provides exhibits to museums.”

  “Sea Kings,” supplied Winn.

  Dr. Wanabi looked taken aback. “Yes! You are good.”

  Winn shrugged and grinned. “I have a very particular set of skills.”

  “With funding from Sea Kings,” Dr. Wanabi continued, “we bought sonar equipment to find Atlantis and special dive equipment to explore the entire city, including a vault of treasures.”

  Supergirl leaned forward. “The entire city? I’m surprised nobody stopped you.”

  Dr. Wanabi stared at her. “What are you talking about? Nobody lives down there.”

  Supergirl chuckled. “Sure they do. We’ve got a guyyy”—Alex cleared her throat and shook her head—“who, uh, thinks they do. Hector . . . in Accounting,” Supergirl finished with a weak laugh.

  “Well, he’s wrong,” said Dr. Wanabi. “Anyway, most of the treasure seemed ordinary. But when I picked up an orichalcum bar, even with my gloves on, I knew it was something different.”

  Alex crossed her arms. “So you saved some for yourself before turning the treasure over to the diving company.”

  “A small piece,” said Dr. Wanabi, placing his index finger and thumb close together. “Just enough to see if it could help my sister.”

  Mon-El propped himself up on his elbows. “But you didn’t help her. You tried to replicate the orichalcum. We found your notebook.”

  Dr. Wanabi jumped to his feet. “You have my notebook?”

  J’onn pushed him back into his chair. “Yes, and you’re not getting it back.”

  Dr. Wanabi struggled against him. “Please! I was working on my sister’s cure. One that could help many!”

  Supergirl picked up the notebook J’onn had left on the table the night before. Flipping through it, she frowned. “You mean the one with ‘Sakura’s Formula’ written across the top and absolutely nothing underneath?” She turned the notebook so everyone could see.

  Mon-El squinted at the Japanese characters and then at Supergirl. “You can read that?”

  “You can’t?” she glanced at the book. “Hey!” She smiled broadly. “I guess I understand Japanese now, too.”

  Dr. Wanabi snatched the notebook from Supergirl before anyone could stop him. “I was about to start work on the cure! I just needed a little more power.”

  Alex exchanged a look with J’onn. “You’ve been using the orichalcum on yourself?”

  “Your superpower is enhanced intelligence,” said J’onn, a look of understanding crossing his features.

  “Yes.” Dr. Wanabi glanced up. “But I’m still not smart enough to cure Sakura’s cancer! I need more orichalcum!”

  Supergirl knelt beside him. “Look at what it’s done to my friend.” She pointed at James. “I don’t know how much is already in your system, but it’s poison, and more might kill you.”

  “And cancer will kill my sister.” Dr. Wanabi’s lower lip trembled. “I have to find the cure,” he whispered.

  Supergirl took his hand. “Not like this.”

  Dr. Hoshi approached the team, and everyone shifted their attention.

  “How is Mr. Olsen?” J’onn asked, though the expression on the woman’s face didn’t bode well.

  “The chelation didn’t work,” she said, “but he’s in stable condition now. His body must be fighting the orichalcum.”

  “That’s good, right?” asked Supergirl.

  Dr. Hoshi tilted her hand from side to side. “I’ve never worked with this substance before, so I can’t guarantee Mr. Olsen won’t relapse.” She clucked her tongue. “I think the same will be true for other people who’ve been exposed.”

  Supergirl nodded and gripped Dr. Wanabi’s hand tighter. “If you can’t help your sister right now, can you at least help the other people of this city?” she asked him. “We need an antidote for the orichalcum.”

  Dr. Wanabi wiped at his eyes. “Y-yes. I think I can do it.”

  “Agent Danvers, uncuff our visitor,” said J’onn. He bent close to Dr. Wanabi. “I trust you’re a good man, but hurt my people, and I’ll end you.”

  Dr. Wanabi swallowed hard but extended his cuffed hands. “I’ll need a work space and a sample of the orichalcum, if you have it.”

  Winn stepped forward and passed him the tiny jar. “Right here.”

  “We have a lab you can use,” Alex told Dr. Wanabi. “I’ve got a background in bioengineering, so I can help.” She gestured to him, and he got to his feet.

  “I’ll take any you can give,” said Dr. Wanabi, following her out of the infirmary.

  “And I’ll go back to searching for our little legion of doom,” said Winn.

  J’onn put a hand on his shoulder. “Check recent hospital and clinic admissions for bloody noses and fainting spells. The one upside I see to all this”—J’onn gestured around the infirmary—“is that our troublemaking supercitizens might be under the weather as well.”

  “You got it,” Winn said, walking out.

  “Maybe we’ll have a quiet afternoon,” Supergirl said hopefully.

  J’onn smirked at her. “When have we ever had a quiet afternoon? I’ll need you to be on hand if we call.” He looked at Mon-El. “And you, too, if you’re up for it.”

  “Of course,” Mon-El said. “I feel way better.” This time he wasn’t lying.

  “Glad to hear it from at least one of you.” J’onn gave James one last glance before leaving the infirmary.

  With everyone else gone or unconscious, Supergirl approached Mon-El with a winsome expression. “You had me a little worried there!”

  She said it teasingly as she pinched his side, but he saw her eyebrows knit together for a split second.

  Mon-El reached for her hand. “You don’t ever have to worry about me, Kara. I’ll always be here. Promise.”

  Supergirl’s smile softened. “Good. I’ll be back after I talk to Pryll.”

  She blew Mon-El a kiss and exited with a twirl.

  He grinned and lay back to absorb some more sunlight.

  Until something clamped around his arm.

  Mon-El jumped and looked down at James, who gaped at him through wide eyes.

  “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t let them take my powers.”

  12

  “You did not retrieve the orichalcum,” Pryll said when Supergirl entered his cell. A new water-filled tank had replaced the broken one, but he was pacing the room instead of swimming.

  “Do I look that guilty?” She sauntered over to him, hands clasped in front of her. “We’re still working on it,” she promised. “Some new enemies caught us by surprise.”

  Pryll frowned and stopped his pacing. “You should have let me assist. It is my duty.”

  Supergirl nodded. “To guard the treasures of Atlantis. I know.” She remembered Dr. Wanabi’s comment about the empty-looking city. “But you can’t be the only one down there. Where are the other Atlanteans?” she finally asked.

  Pryll stared at Supergirl for a moment and then lifted his chin. “I am charged with guarding the city’s treasure, not its inhabitants. Where they are is not my concern.”

  “What about your family?” Supergirl tried again.

  Pryll clenched his jaw but said nothing.

  I
t was time for a different approach.

  “I don’t know if you knew this about me, but I’m an alien,” said Supergirl. She settled on the floor and leaned back against Pryll’s tank. “From a galaxy far, far away.”

  Pryll glanced down at her. “Where is your family?”

  “Dead.” She sighed. “The whole planet was destroyed.”

  Pryll crouched beside her. “I am sorry for you. How did you escape?”

  “My parents sent me in a spaceship to follow my cousin here.”

  “Ah. So you have one family member at least,” said Pryll. He gazed at the floor. “I watched my wife, Eleni, die during Atlantis’s destruction. And my son, Jerro, who was patrolling our borders, never came home.”

  “Then I am sorry for you as well,” said Supergirl.

  “Atlantis is all I have left,” Pryll continued. “Without it, my life has no purpose.”

  Supergirl gave him a small smile. “We’ll get the orichalcum back. We’ve got everyone looking for it.”

  Pryll leaned forward, wide-eyed. “Everyone in your city? I am touched they would do this.”

  “Not everyone in the city,” Supergirl said with a chuckle. “Everyone at the DEO!”

  She stopped laughing as an idea struck her. “Wait a minute. Why not everyone in the city? Pryll, that’s brilliant!” Supergirl scrambled to her feet. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Supergirl!” Pryll called after her, but she’d already opened the door and zipped down the hall.

  She skidded to a stop outside the infirmary. Mon-El was talking to James, who’d finally regained full consciousness.

  “You’re awake!” Supergirl approached James’s cot. “How do you feel?”

  James and Mon-El both jumped at her presence, and James smiled weakly.

  “Like I just lost a tag team boxing match against Muhammed Ali, Mike Tyson, and, well, you,” said James. “But I’m getting back to normal, slowly.”

  Supergirl glanced at Mon-El, who appeared stone-faced.

  “Sorry, did I interrupt something?” she asked.

  “Nope!” Mon-El forced a smile. “Just filling him in on what happened with Dr. Wanabi.”

  Supergirl put a hand on James’s shoulder. “Thanks for finding him. We’ve got him working with Alex on an antidote to the orichalcum.”

  “That’s what I hear,” said James, glancing at Mon-El.

  Supergirl wrung her hands together and winced. “And I know you’ve just been through a near-death experience, but I have a favor to ask. A CatCo-related favor.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

  “Tons of people reacted to my message about the supercitizens.” She looked from James to Mon-El. “What if we could get that many people to react to a different message?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Mon-El.

  “Right now, we’ve got a building full of people looking for the evil supercitizens and the orichalcum,” said Supergirl, gesturing around her. “But we could have all of National City looking. No confrontations, just information.”

  James leaned on one elbow. “A citywide stakeout? That’s not a bad idea.”

  Mon-El raised a hand. “OK, but if someone has information, how do they let you know? Shine a light in the sky?”

  Supergirl snickered. “That seems like overkill. They can just use the phone. We’ll set up a hotline here at the DEO.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got this all figured out,” said James. “So what do you need me for?”

  Supergirl’s cheeks warmed and she ducked her head. “Could you, um, record the message? I don’t think anybody wants to hear from Supergirl right now.”

  James grinned and nodded. “Of course. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll go with you to the office.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, if we hurry, we could also post something in the evening issue of the Tribune.”

  The mention of the newspaper triggered a memory in Supergirl’s mind. Snapper had written an op-ed piece for the Tribune—something that might explain why the mayor was upset. A visit to the Tribune’s floor at CatCo would be the perfect chance to check its archives.

  “Great!” said Supergirl. “Meet me in the control room. I’m going to tell J’onn and Winn our idea.”

  She practically skipped down the hallway. Things were finally starting to come together.

  “Kara!” Mon-El trotted after her. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

  “Of course.” She stopped to face him. “Is everything OK? You looked upset earlier.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, waving away her concern. “I was just thinking . . .” He chewed his lip and smiled. “You know what? Never mind.”

  “Mon-El.” Supergirl grabbed his hand. “What is it?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s about that antidote Dr. Wanabi and Alex are working on. I think we should let people choose whether or not to take it.”

  Supergirl let go of Mon-El. That was the last thing she’d expected to hear him say. “But if people don’t take the antidote, the orichalcum will keep making them sick.”

  “Yeah, but maybe people are OK with being sick if it means they get to keep their powers,” he said with a shrug.

  Supergirl wrinkled her forehead. “But we don’t know if they get to keep their powers. We do know even trace amounts of orichalcum can be dangerous.” She pointed down the hall to the infirmary.

  “But not too dangerous, right?” asked Mon-El. “I mean, look at me. I’m fine.”

  Supergirl smirked at him. “You’re also from a different planet and draw healing power from the sun.”

  “And James is doing better, too,” Mon-El pointed out.

  “I suppose,” Supergirl said with a frown. “Are you bringing this up for the supercitizens . . . or for you?”

  “Huh?” Mon-El blinked at her. “For them, of course. I couldn’t care less.”

  But his eyes averted her gaze for a fraction of a second, and she heard an echo of his voice.

  This is important to me, Kara.

  Supergirl sighed. “Mon-El, we can’t say it’s OK for you to keep your new power but expect everyone else to give theirs up.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not saying that, Kara. I’m saying we should give people a choice.”

  “When one of those choices is to intentionally hurt themselves?” Supergirl crossed her arms. “Not on my watch.”

  Mon-El pressed his lips together and breathed through his nostrils. “You know, you’ve been making a lot of decisions for other people the last few days.”

  “Because they can’t make good decisions for themselves!” Supergirl threw her hands in the air. “And now you’re trying to put them in danger so you can keep your new power, which is even worse.”

  “So I’m the bad guy now?” Mon-El gave a mirthless chuckle. “Wow. I’d expect that kind of attitude from one of my people, but from you?” He turned on his heel and walked away.

  “Mon-El!” Supergirl clenched her fists at her sides, but didn’t go after him. He was obviously standing as firm on the issue as she was, and she had other things to worry about.

  But she couldn’t deny that it stung, just a little, to be compared to a Daxamite.

  It took some convincing from both Supergirl and James, but J’onn finally agreed to their plan, insisting that he write the script for James’s speech.

  “Do not deviate from this.” J’onn handed copies to James and Supergirl.

  Supergirl read the script and glanced at Winn. “Call 1-800-BADDIES? That’s the number you got?”

  He made a face. “I wanted 1-800-BAD-GUYS, but the number keys were already being used by 1-800-ACE-GUYS, and their poker table sales are really taking off,” he said.

  James pocketed the script and nodded to Supergirl. “You ready?”

  “Almost.” She zipped around the corner and then reappeared as Kara. “If we land on the CatCo roof, I can fly us there.” She held an arm open to James, who groaned and stepped closer.

  “I h
ate this part,” he said, gripping her waist tightly.

  “It’ll be over before you know it,” Kara said, lifting them both into the air. “Hold on to your lunch!”

  Kara and James shot out of the DEO building and touched down on the CatCo roof a few seconds later.

  “You get ready to broadcast, and I’ll take a copy of this speech down to the Tribune,” Kara told James while he caught his breath.

  James gave her a thumbs-up, so Kara took the stairs to the floor below and hurried up to a redheaded woman eating a slice of cake.

  “Vicki V! Just the woman I wanted to see.” Kara smiled broadly at her and held up the script. “I have a favor to ask.”

  The woman’s eyes flitted over J’onn’s speech. “Is this for real?”

  “It is. Can you get it on the front page of the evening edition?”

  Vicki clucked her tongue. “I suppose I could sneak it in.” She held up the slice of cake. “It’s my last day. What’re they going to do, fire me?”

  “Oh, right! You’re leaving us for that other paper.” Kara pouted her lower lip. “Aw, we’ll miss you.”

  “I wish I could say the same.” Vicki leaned close. “Between you and me, this place was driving me batty.” She took the paper from Kara. “I’ll let you know once it’s done.”

  “Thanks!” Kara swung her arms and stayed rooted to the floor. “Could I ask one more teeny-tiny favor?”

  Vicki guarded her plate with a fork. “You can’t have my cake.”

  Kara laughed. “No, I was just hoping you could point out the archives.”

  “Oh!” Vicki laughed, too. “We’re all digital at the Tribune, but I can pull them up from my laptop.” She motioned for Kara to follow. “Are you looking for any article in particular?”

  “An op-ed piece that Snapper Carr did,” supplied Kara, at which point Vicki wrinkled her nose.

  “Ugh. He’s your boss, isn’t he? Poor you!” Her fingers hammered on the keyboard, and an article appeared on the screen: “Outside of a Dog” by Snapper Carr.

  “That’s the one,” said Kara, reading the piece.