All-out war had come to Smallville.
Observing the battle from above, Hardy received word from Sergeant Rick Vance, the ground commander.
“Guardian, this is Badger 01,” Vance reported. “We’ve engaged targets. Negative BDA! We’re not even plinking the paint off them!”
Hardy’s own eyes confirmed Vance’s assessment. Despite receiving enough firepower to take out a small army, the three aliens were still standing—and fighting amongst themselves. Superman’s colorful uniform was easily distinguishable from the intimidating black capes and armor of the other two. And from what Hardy could see, he was barely holding his own.
But he was doing a better job fighting Zod’s people than anyone else was. Hardy watched as Superman ducked beneath the giant’s armored fist, while jabbing his elbow in the visor of the woman’s helmet. She staggered backward, affected more by Superman’s strike than by the blistering hail of gunfire targeting all three of them. Then she lunged at him again, murder in her eyes.
They sure don’t seem to be on the same side.
Maybe that reporter was right? Maybe Superman wasn’t the enemy?
Hardy made a judgment call.
“All players,” he ordered. “Do not target the guy in blue! He is friendly. Repeat: friendly!”
Impossibly, the female Kryptonian seemed to hear his command. She turned her face to the sky, spotting Hardy’s helicopter. She nodded at the giant, who turned away from Superman long enough to pick up an abandoned UPS truck. He hefted the heavy vehicle with no effort whatsoever, and hurled it at the hovering ’copters.
The big brown truck sailed through the air, almost nailing a chopper, which pulled up and out of the way with only a second to spare.
“We’re breaking right!” the pilot shouted over the radio. “Breaking right!”
The airborne truck flew straight at the helicopter that was carrying Hardy. The Little Bird banked sharply to one side, but the truck grazed them anyway, sending the chopper out of control. A door gunner tumbled out of the Little Bird, into the empty air.
The dislodged soldier fell toward the battle-scarred street dozens of feet below.
“Fallen angel!” the pilot barked into radio. “Fallen angel!”
The man was about to splatter all over the sidewalk when Superman intercepted him. Zipping through the air, he scooped up the endangered soldier before he hit the ground. Then the Kryptonian flew off, carrying the man to safety.
Thank God, Hardy thought.
But the fallen gunner might have been the lucky one, because the wounded ’copter was going down.
“Hold on!” Hardy shouted to his crew. “We’re auto-rotating! Brace for impact!” Racing against time, he fired off one last radio communication. “All players, Guardian’s going off the net—”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The chopper crashed into the parking lot in front of Sears. Superman wanted to check on Hardy and his crew, but knew that he had to deal with Faora and Nam-Ek first. Nobody would be safe as long as Zod’s ruthless lieutenants were on the rampage.
After leaving the rescued gunner on a rooftop, Superman dropped down on Nam-Ek from above and grabbed hold of the silent giant. As far as he could tell, he had one tactical advantage over the other Kryptonians—flight—and he intended to make the most of it.
He launched himself high into the sky, dragging Nam-Ek along with him. Before the startled Kryptonian even knew what was happening, they were hundreds of feet above the ground. Then Superman let go of the giant and hammered him with a haymaker that sent Nam-Ek somersaulting through the air. He crashed to earth several blocks away from Main Street, landing on a railroad spur at the edge of town. Slamming into a group of train cars, he knocked them off the tracks. His armor scraped against the iron rails as he slid to a stop.
That got Nam-Ek clear of downtown, if only for a moment.
But what about Faora?
Miraculously, Hardy survived the crash landing. Bruised and battered, he struggled to extricate himself from the crushed cockpit, which had hit the ground in the parking lot in front of the department store.
Sergeant Vance and his men rushed to secure the downed chopper. Before they reached his location, however, gunfire sounded nearby, and Hardy guessed that he wasn’t out of the woods yet.
A sudden thump proved he was right.
Faora-Ul leapt into the parking lot, landing amidst a sea of empty cars. She smirked maliciously as her eyes locked on him.
He was still trapped inside the wreckage.
She seemed to recognize him from their brief confrontation at the NORTHCOM airfield, where he’d objected to the abduction of Lois Lane. She stalked toward him, casually flinging parked vehicles aside.
Vance and his ground troops tried and failed to halt her advance. Automatic weapons fire bounced harmlessly off her Kryptonian armor as she confidently made her way toward the broken Little Bird. Losing ground, the soldiers fell back behind the empty cars and trucks, using them for cover, but she easily flipped the vehicles out of her way, one after another, exposing the men and forcing them to scramble away. A Ford pickup landed upside down on top of a crumpled station wagon.
With gunfire proving ineffectual, the men unloaded on her with grenades. The devices exploded against her, packing enough punch to take out a platoon of hostiles, but she shrugged them off as though they were nothing but a cloud of annoying gnats. The blasts and shrapnel didn’t even knick her armor.
She was coming for him.
Hardy wrestled an MP5 submachine gun into place and opened fire on her from the cockpit. He doubted that it would do anything more than slow her down, if that, but he’d be damned if he didn’t go down fighting. He emptied his clip, then reached for his sidearm.
The M9 semiautomatic was even less effective than the MP5, but he kept blasting away, even as she grabbed him by the neck and yanked him violently from the trashed ’copter. She lifted him above the ground with one hand.
“Do your worst!” Hardy spat at her.
Her fingers tightened around his throat.
“Be quiet, soldier,” she responded. “A good death is its own reward—”
A serrated black blade was sheathed at her hip. She drew it out with clear intent to gut him. Just snapping his neck was not good enough, it seemed—she wanted to spill human blood. Or maybe she was hoping Hardy would beg for his life.
Like hell, he thought defiantly. Get it over with, you alien bitch.
She drew back the knife and he braced himself for the death blow. Then a blue-red blur slammed into her, loosing her grip and propelling her across the parking lot.
Hardy fell to the ground. Gasping in surprise, he saw Superman take the fight to Faora. He grabbed her flickering helmet with his bare hands and ripped it off her.
The effect came quickly. Faora shrieked and dropped to her knees on the pulverized blacktop, clutching her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. The icy beauty of her face was contorted by agony. It was as it she was being barraged with flash-bang grenades. Sensory overload incapacitated her.
“You feel that, Faora?” Superman said. “We’re not on your ship anymore. We’re on my world.”
Forcing her eyes open, she tried to focus them on her assailant. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to rise. Her hands flailed blindly before her, as though she could barely see.