An eerie glow lit up the base of the Black Zero. Gravitational fluxes attracted loose particulates and other debris from the streets below. A halo of levitating dirt, glass, and litter formed around the ship, like the rings of a gas giant.
An incandescent column of shimmering azure energy, at least three hundred feet in diameter, shot down from the underside of the ship. The block-wide beam pressed down on everything that lay beneath the alien vessel. Structures began to crumble, then collapse. Abandoned vehicles were crushed like tin cans.
Gaining strength, the pulsating column expanded outward, creating an ever-widening circle of destruction. Multistory office buildings pancaked, compressing innocent men and women between the floors. Fragile human flesh was vaporized instantly.
On the opposite side of the planet, a reciprocal column was generated by the World Engine. A beam of focused gravity, it flattened all the remaining trees and other foliage on the ravaged island. The surrounding seas parted as if shoved aside by a god-like hand.
Here, too, rings of loose matter orbited the head of the gargantuan device, its gravity beam penetrated deep into the Earth until it met the beam from the Black Zero.
Thus linked, the machines fed each other, creating an axis of energy that traded waves of crushing gravity in a devastating feedback loop.
Huge vents opened along the top of the Engine. Noxious fumes gushed from the vents, spilling out into the atmosphere like the pyroclastic surge of a volcano. Seething clouds of alien vapor jetted forth as the device breathed upon the Earth.
General Swanwick watched in dismay as the two-part assault played out upon the big board’s video screens. Satellite footage offered him—and the rest of the NORTHCOM staff—a front-row seat for the twin cataclysms.
Swanwick tried to fathom what he was seeing.
“Nuclear, chemical, kinetic—no known weapon can cause that type of damage,” he said. Then he turned. “What’ve they hit us with?”
“Looks like some kind of gravity weapon,” Dr. Hamilton theorized. He called up what he referred to as a “gravity map” of Metropolis. Most of the city and outlying boroughs were rendered in orange, indicating regions of normal gravity, while a circle centered on the Kryptonian ship edged into blues and greens.
They watched grimly as the circle steadily expanded.
Hamilton toggled to another screen. A similar graphic depicted the same destructive phenomenon at a location in the Indian Ocean, where the other segment of the ship had come to rest on an insignificant island.
A cross-section of the Earth, extrapolated from seismic readings, showed pulsing “gravity waves” ping-ponging back and forth through the planet’s interior, from the island to Metropolis and back again, growing in intensity with each volley.
“It’s working in tandem with their ship,” Hamilton explained, indicating the anomaly on the island. “Somehow they’re increasing the planet’s mass. Clouding the atmosphere with particulates.” A look of realization dawned on his face. “My God, they’re terraforming.”
“What?” Captain Farris didn’t recognize the term.
“Planetary engineering,” Swanwick translated. He’d read enough science fiction to be familiar with the concept. “Modifying a world’s atmosphere and topography.
“They’re turning Earth into Krypton,” he added.
“But what happens to us?” Farris asked.
“Based on these readings,” Hamilton said, “there won’t be an ‘us.’ If this keeps up, the increased gravity alone will crush our internal organs.”
Swanwick had no reason to doubt the scientist. This was more than just an enemy attack. The human race was facing extinction.
‘How long do we have?” he asked.
“In Metropolis?” Hamilton performed some quick calculations. “A few hours. Maybe a few weeks for the rest of the planet. After that, Earth won’t be able to support human life.”
A hush fell over the trio, until a nearby analyst waved for Swanwick’s attention. The man held a land-line receiver to his ear.
“Sir, I’m with the control tower. Colonel Hardy’s on his way in. And he’s got Superman in tow.”
“Superman?” Swanwick remembered the name from earlier, back when Lane had coined it in the interrogation room. “You mean the alien?”
“Yes, sir,” the analyst said. “That’s what they’re calling him now. Superman.”
Swanwick experienced a moment of déjà vu as he, Farris, and Hamilton piled out of the ops center and took a jeep to the airfield. A squadron of Sikorsky Super Stallion choppers came thundering in from west. Flying ahead of the massive aircraft was the caped alien, “Superman.”
A heavy-lift skycrane helicopter was with them, towing what appeared to be a tank-sized Kryptonian space capsule. The alien starcraft was suspended in a sling beneath the skycrane.
Unlike last time, Superman’s arrival wasn’t greeted with an aggressive display of arms. Touching down on the tarmac, he immediately began issuing directions to the crew of the skycrane, as though this was a perfectly natural turn of events. Despite the threat of imminent annihilation, Swanwick was more than a little amused by the speed with which the illegal alien had somehow gone from inhuman threat to commanding ally.
Hardy clambered out of the lead Sikorsky, accompanied by Lois Lane. They hurried over to join the general and his entourage. Swanwick was glad to see that the reporter was both alive and free from her alien captors.
Dr. Hamilton stared with open wonder at the skycrane’s extraterrestrial cargo.
“Is that what I think it is?” he said.
Lois nodded.
“It’s the ship he arrived in.” She shoved past the rapt scientist to address Swanwick. “We have a plan, General. We can stop the Kryptonians, but we need your men to deliver this to Metropolis.”
He viewed the capsule skeptically.
“What good will that do?”
Superman approached the group.
“My ship is powered by something called a Phantom Drive. It bends space. Zod’s ship uses the same technology. If the two drives collide with each other—”
Hamilton caught on at once.
“A singularity will be created.”
“Like a black hole,” Swanwick said.
“Yes,” Superman acknowledged. “Zod’s people spent years in the Phantom Zone. They’re still tethered to the energies they were exposed to there. If we can open a gateway, they’ll be pulled back.”
Hamilton peered at the Kryptonian space capsule.
“You want to bomb them with this?”
“Sir,” Colonel Hardy said. “This craft maxes out at around 17,000 pounds. We can drop it from one of the C-17s.” He’d evidently worked out the necessary logistics. “It’s a viable plan.”
“It’s our only plan,” Superman insisted. “Every second we stand here debating, more people are dying in Metropolis. If I don’t shut down that World Engine, those gravity fields will keep expanding.”
Swanwick assumed the “World Engine” was the mega-machine currently wreaking havoc in the southern hemisphere. He weighed Superman’s words carefully. Pure instinct told him to resist the idea of relying on an untested technology, brought to them by an alien being who had kept his very existence hidden from the world for decades. Yet he didn’t see any other option—except for extinction.
Plus, Colonel Hardy seemed to vouch for Superman.
Might as well roll the dice, Swanwick decided. And take a leap of faith.
He grudgingly nodded his assent.
Lois Lane looked worried, though, and not just for herself. Swanwick wasn’t sure, but he thought he picked up on a definite vibe between Superman and the reporter. Every now and then, they exchanged glances that carried some unknown subtext.