“We’ve known where it was since we first entered the system,” Zod stated confidently. He turned to his cadaverous associate. “Continue examining him, Jax-Ur. I want to know precisely how this world’s ecosphere has affected him. How he can fly.”
The scientist nodded. He regarded Clark with pitiless curiosity, clearly intrigued by the challenge.
Zod began to exit the laboratory. Then paused and looked back at Superman. He contemplated the prisoner.
“Back on Krypton,” he said, “in the era of the warring states, if a foe died a noble death, custom dictated that the victor raise his enemy’s child as his own.” A flicker of guilt played across his face. “Your father acquitted himself with honor, Kal. I would gladly keep that custom alive.”
What?
Superman instantly grasped the implications behind what Zod was saying. His fists clenched at his sides and he strained against his bonds. He glared furiously at Zod.
“You killed him.”
“I did,” Zod confessed with uncharacteristic remorse. “And not a day goes by when I don’t think about it. But if I had to do it again, I would. The stakes were that high. They still are.” His face and voice hardened. “I have a duty to my people. And I won’t allow anyone to prevent me from carrying it out.”
Superman tried to break free from the table, but for the first time in his life, his strength met its match. The bonds refused to budge, so that he could only watch helplessly as Zod departed the lab, leaving him to Jax-Ur’s questionable mercy.
The Kryptonian scientist set about his work.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
On the big board at NORTHCOM, two red triangles inched their way over an illuminated map of the American Midwest. Dozens of adrenalized threat analysts rushed to interpret the data as General Swanwick rushed back into the ops center, accompanied by Hardy, Farris, and Hamilton. He quickly scanned the numerous video displays upon the wall.
“What’s the sitrep, major?” he demanded of the nearest officer.
“DSP pinged two bogeys launching from the alien ship,” the man reported.
Swanwick remembered the bug-like dropship that had collected Superman and Lane. What were the aliens after now?
“Retask Ikon-4 and get me a closer look,” he ordered. Maybe the spy satellite could shed some light on this latest development. He hoped to God that this wasn’t the beginning of an invasion, but knew that he needed to take appropriate action, just in case.
While his people redirected the satellite, he walked briskly to a secure land-line and picked up the receiver.
“Command Victor-Eight-Six-Whiskey-Three,” he barked into the phone. “The word of the day is ‘trident.’ We have two alien craft on aggressive approach. Request SECDEF set DEFCON 1. Put all combat and combat support airborne on Alert 5!”
“Ikon-4 coming online!” an analyst called out.
And none too soon, Swanwick thought. He replaced the receiver, just as real-time images of the Kryptonian dropships appeared on the central screens. The ships— which were identical to the one that had been piloted by Sub-Commander Faora—were flying low over America’s heartland. Acres of growing corn and wheat rippled in the ships’ wake. They looked like two giant locusts zipping above the amber waves of grain.
“Air speed?” Swanwick asked.
“Three hundred and eighty knots and entering Kansas airspace!” an analyst reported. He adjusted his headset. “They’re not responding to our hails!”
Swanwick did some quick mental calculations. He glanced at an illuminated map to see what resources were available to him.
“Get me Fort Anderson,” he ordered. “Scramble the closest AWACS.” He turned toward Colonel Hardy, who was waiting expectantly. “That’s for you, Colonel. I need your eyes on the ground yesterday. And bring me one of those bastards back alive.”
Hardy saluted and made tracks. He was good soldier who understood better than most just what was at stake, having been involved ever since the discovery on Ellesmere. There wasn’t a better man for the job.
Except maybe the one he had turned over to Zod.
Superman felt like a lab rat laid out for dissection. Gritting his teeth, he strained once again against his shackles, but was unable to break loose from the examination table. He had never felt so weak, so helpless.
“You’re wasting your efforts,” Jax-Ur said. “The strength you derive from your exposure to Earth’s sun has been neutralized aboard our ship.”
The lean Kryptonian scientist approached the table. His gloved hands gripped a bony, segmented syringe that looked more like some sort of petrified parasite than a piece of medical equipment. Razor-sharp pinchers clamped down on Superman’s arm while a hollow stinger penetrated his sleeve and skin. The prisoner winced at the unfamiliar stinging sensation—thanks to his parents’ studied secrecy, he’d never had blood drawn before. He watched with dismay as the grotesque parody of a syringe extracted a crimson sample.
“Here, in this environment,” Jax-Ur said, “you’re as weak as any human.”
Superman just hoped that Lois wasn’t being subjected to similar treatment.
Car-Vex tossed Lois into an empty cell.
Even worse, the female Kryptonian had refused to answer any of her questions. She wouldn’t reveal where Superman was, or if he was okay. When she’d last seen him, he was being dragged off by Zod’s goons, unconscious and looking like death warmed over. Since then, nobody on this space-age penitentiary had bothered to give her an update.
For all she knew, he was dead.
Fighting despair, she sat in the corner of her cell, staring down and hugging herself to keep warm. The air-conditioning aboard the Black Zero was set uncomfortably low, leading her to guess that Krypton had been a much cooler planet. Shivering, she tried to figure out what to do next.
She’d been in tight fixes before, but being locked up on a chilly alien spaceship populated by superhuman storm troopers was a new one. She couldn’t count on Superman to come to her rescue again, either.
Whatever her next move would be, it was entirely up to her.
The air that was being pumped into her cell had been adapted to her needs, so she didn’t need a respirator anymore. Lifting her eyes from the floor, she examined her cell more closely. Rounded walls gave it the feel of a hollow cavity inside a living organism, which didn’t do anything to reassure her. The polished surfaces were largely smooth and seamless, but her questing gaze fell upon a glowing port set into the wall next to the sealed entrance.
An idea occurred to her, and she retrieved the nail-like object Superman had given her on the way here. Thankfully, Zod’s forces hadn’t bothered to search her—no doubt they assumed she was incapable of posing a threat.
She compared the head of the object, which bore Superman’s trademark “S,” to the empty port on the wall. Hope sparked inside her as she confirmed that they matched. Superman had silently hinted that she should hold onto the key until the time was right.
Was this the moment?
Might as well go for it, she thought. Who knows if I’ll get another chance?
Holding her breath, she inserted the key into the port. It fit perfectly, which she took as a positive omen, and she waited for something to happen. But, much to her disappointment, the cell remained as closed and claustrophobic as ever. The entrance stayed sealed.