Chapter 16: Look, Up in the Sky

“Emily… Emily!”

“Huh?” Groggy, Emily turned over and blinked. Kara was standing next to the bed in her Supergirl outfit, looking agitated. “Whuh… What time is it?”

“It’s almost four. Emily, there’s a plane… they can’t get their landing gear down and they’re going to crash!”

Emily sat up and glanced at the clock. “How do you know? And what were you doing up?”

“Someone was watching TV at the hospital and that story woke me up and, and, Emily, I have to go! I have to get to London in time!”

Emily briefly considered what it would be like trying to sleep with super-hearing, then shook her head. “Are you going to be too sleepy for school when you get back?”

“I don’t think I need to sleep as much since I got my powers and I’m only sleeping about five hours a night anyway and I’m not tired at all honest! Em-i-lyyyy…” Kara was bouncing up and down on her toes, pleading.

“Kara, please don’t whine.” Emily sighed. “Of course you should go, but try not to let your face get photographed, and you need to be back in time for school. OK?”

Kara vanished, leaving the words “Thank you I will!” hanging in the air, simultaneous with the sound of the front door closing gently. Moments later, Emily heard a faint sonic boom.

She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. She wanted desperately to go back to sleep, but trudged out to the family computer and brought up the CNN web site.

• • •


Flight 137 from Dallas to London Heathrow had been circling for over an hour. The flight crew had tried repeatedly to get the landing gear to deploy fully, without success. Both the hydraulic and the backup systems had failed; the cause was unknown.

Only the right wing gear had deployed properly. This was a dangerous configuration. As the plane landed and slowed, it would tip onto its nose and left wing, possibly rupturing the fuel tanks or flipping over. It would be safer to attempt a belly landing; unfortunately, the right gear now refused to retract.

Captain Sandra Kiernan had no choice: she would have to try to control the plane as it tipped over on its side while landing, and hope they survived the attempt.

They’d circled out to sea and dumped excess fuel to minimize the risk of fire. The left wing engine was shut down since it would impact the runway.

They were on their approach to Heathrow. All other air traffic was diverted or stopped, and all runways were clear.

The passengers had been briefed. With some weeping but mostly silence, they were waiting to see what card Fate dealt them. At the moment they were flying up the Thames, over London itself, approaching from the east.

Despite the danger, or perhaps to distract themselves, many of the passengers were looking out the windows, somberly watching the sights of London flow past as they approached the airport a few miles farther on.

Suddenly, bedlam erupted from the left side window seats, startling the other passengers. There were shouts and pointing: “Look! Over there!” Those not seated at the windows strained to see.

Flying in tandem with the jet, somewhat past the tip of the left wing, was a young girl in a red and blue outfit, a red cape fluttering from her shoulders.

The passengers were not the only witnesses. It was midmorning in London and all along the Thames, people who’d heard the news had gone outside to look up at the stricken aircraft as it passed overhead. It was low enough to see the tiny human figure flying alongside. Heads craned and turned, following the two; mouths hung open and fingers pointed. People scrambled for their phones.

• • •


Kara bit her lip. She’d been focused on getting here quickly. Now that she was here she was going to have to figure out what to do. There wasn’t time to consult with an adult.

She thought first to try to deploy the landing gear by hand, but the doors covering the two recalcitrant gear were closed. She’d have to… rip them off or something. Then, she’d have to force the gear down while not ripping them off, or breaking them so they wouldn’t support the plane.

She didn’t have the faintest idea how to do that, being a sixth grader and not a mechanical engineer. She’d taken one look at the mechanism and blanched at its complexity. She wondered if her dad knew how.

The only idea she had any confidence in was simply to hold the plane up as it landed, so it stayed level. She knew she had a power, some… thingy or whatever that let her reinforce the structure of ordinary objects. She’d used it to keep the bat from disintegrating in softball, and when she’d picked up the sofa for Emily and Caitlin. She’d been practicing it on the sly with other large objects. If she didn’t use it, things she picked up tended to fall apart under their own weight if they were large enough. She wasn’t sure what it was; another question for her dad.

She wondered where she should position herself — she didn’t want to break the plane like Superman did in Kevin’s movie. She looked into its interior to see if that was any help. It was: she found the location of the aircraft’s main beams and struts. It looked like the best place to lift would be underneath, where the wings met the fuselage.

She looked up and saw a hundred faces on the left side of the plane, noses pressed to the windows. She looked down and saw a sprinkling of faces on the ground, turned up at her. She turned her gaze back to the passengers, waved and smiled, and made the Rosie the Riveter pose; she then dove out of sight underneath the plane. Only the observers below could see her positioned in the center of the wings, her arms outstretched.

The passengers wondered if what they’d seen was a reason to hope, or a sign they were already dead.

• • •


Minutes later, Heathrow loomed ahead. Emergency vehicles were clustered on either side of the runway. The jetliner flared out, and the right wheel touched ground. Captain Kiernan cut the engines back, lowering the nose, and prepared to fight for control as it and the left wing hit the runway.

They never did.

The captain’s mind raced frantically — were the gear down somehow? Should she apply the thrust reverser or the brakes? If the gear weren’t down, either would be disastrous. If they were down, without braking she’d sail off the end of the runway in moments.

She was about to apply the brakes when, all on its own, the plane decelerated rapidly and came to a stop, still level. There was no sound of abused metal, just the whine of the jet turbines spinning down. From the passenger compartment, a cheer went up.

She looked at her copilot, who shrugged. They had no idea what had just happened, but they sure weren’t going to complain about it.

Outside, emergency vehicles pulled up alongside the airliner and crash crew started pouring out. They stopped at the sight before them.

Underneath the center of the aircraft, which clearly only had one gear down, a young girl was floating, her skinny arms holding up the enormous weight above her. The girl wore a red and blue outfit, and on her chest was the unmistakable emblem of Superman.

“Hello!” she shouted in an American accent. “Is there something you can do so I can put it down? I don’t want to break it.”

• • •


It took about fifteen minutes for workers with the proper tools to open the wheel wells, manually deploy the gear, and lock it. Meanwhile, Kara continued to hold the plane above her head. Other workers were checking the aircraft over, and in the distance she could see a tractor coming to tow the plane in to a gate.

Since there hadn’t been a crash, the unneeded emergency crew had their phones out to take photos. However, the workers close to her were too busy, and the ones who weren’t busy had moved out of the way and were too distant to capture her face well.

In the short interval while the gear were lowered and locked, the story, photos, and videos were exploding all over the Internet, from the emergency crew, from the passengers, and from the observers on the ground.

Once the wheels were down the crew signaled to her, and she let go and floated down to the ground. The body of the aircraft made a brief creaking noise as its weight settled onto the gear.

She walked over to the crew who had just deployed the left wing gear and said, “I have to go now.”

“Wait!” called one man. “Who are you?”

Kara stopped short; she hadn’t expected the question, obvious as it was. She just smiled and replied, “I’m Supergirl.” Then she remembered something from her history textbook. “And I’m a friend.”

With that she floated up from under the wing, and another cheer went up from the left side of the passenger cabin. She waved at the joyful faces in the windows, then darted up into the sky; a second later there was a high contrail and a sonic boom.

• • •


Katherine Mackinnon liked to take a hike midmorning while her children were at school — it made a break from being cooped up with the housework all day. Today she was hiking from the village out to the ruins of Dun Ringill and back. The walk was invigorating and the view from the ruined fort spectacular.

As she neared the top of the hill and the ruins, she spotted a girl sitting on the very edge of the scarp. Her breath caught. The child was dressed in typical tween clothing, though far too lightweight for the chilly Scottish weather and in oddly bold colors. She wore a cape over her shoulders bearing the Superman emblem.

Recovering her wits, Katherine crept forward cautiously. “Hen, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be sitting there; it’s dangerous!”

The girl didn’t act surprised at Katherine’s voice, even though she couldn’t have seen her approach. She looked over her shoulder and smiled, replying with an American accent. “I’ll be OK, ma’am.” She turned back to look out over Loch Slapin. She sighed. “I just wish my dad was here. We wanted to come here together someday.”

Katherine’s heart softened. “I’m sorry, child. Is your mum nearby then?”

The girl didn’t turn around, but her voice was sad. “She’s not here, either.”

Katherine felt a small sting in her eyes and wanted to comfort the girl, but she was perched right out on the edge where the footing was uncertain. “You really ought to come back here, child. It’s not safe there. You could fall. And is there another adult who’s caring for you? Are you here on Skye on holiday, then?”

The girl swung her feet around from the edge and stood up, facing Katherine. She had the Superman crest on her front as well, and looked like a preteen female version of the famous comic book hero. “I’m really OK, but I need to get going or I’ll be late. I just wanted to stop here and look since it was kind of on the way, but it’s not the same without Dad.” She smiled. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

She floated up into the air, stopped, and waved. “Bye!” The girl streaked skyward at high speed; shortly thereafter there was a sonic boom.

Katherine stood there looking up for many minutes, the view forgotten.

• • •


The President turned over and looked blearily at the clock as his bedside phone rang: 4:47 AM. He reached over and grabbed it on the second try, sitting up in the process. “Yes?”

He listened carefully, his brow furrowed. “Uh-huh… OK… Yes, as soon as you can.” He listened a while longer, then said, “About how long?… Uh-huh. Right, in a half hour.” He hung up, then swung his feet off the bed onto the floor, resting his arms on his knees as he tried to finish waking up.

“What is it?” asked his wife sleepily.

The President hesitated before replying, “Apparently, we don’t know all the laws of physics.”

• • •


Emily sat with her coffee at the family computer, jumping from web site to web site while Kara and Caitlin got ready for school. CNN, ABC, the New York Times, the Washington Post, but mostly the Guardian and the BBC in the UK: they were closest to the action. She’d followed the progression of the news since the moment it broke.

At first there’d been widespread disbelief. But the number of eyewitness reports posted, the flood of photographs and videos uploaded to social networking sites, the sheer number of independent sources, was simply too much to dismiss. The “hoax” line of reporting had died within thirty minutes. Still, it was so fantastic that people were slow to accept or understand it.

Even Emily had trouble visualizing the tween superhero dominating the news as the ordinary-looking sixth grader who slept on an air mattress in Caitlin’s room. She hoped that worked in Kara’s favor. She was starting to understand how Kara’s father got away with being two different people in a world where no one knew that Clark Kent was Superman.

Emily had hoped that Kara’s second major outing would be like the one in China, where disbelief had overwhelmed the evidence. There was simply too much evidence this time. Though there was debate whether she was “really” Supergirl or someone masquerading as her, the current view was summed up by the New York Times banner headline:

SUPERGIRL RESCUES STRICKEN AIRLINER

Comic Book Superheroine Comes to Life

Emily heard the girls finishing up, so she closed the browser and shut down the computer. Unfortunately, unlike Metropolis, wherever that was, everyone here knew that Clark Kent was Superman. And at least two other people outside her family had heard Kara’s whole story when she arrived.

Emily reviewed her decisions to date. Every step of the way she’d done the best she could to care for Kara while also trying to do the right thing. Could she make Kara stand idle while people died? A man drowned? Dozens of coal miners suffocated in the dark? Hundreds of people killed in a horrible plane crash? She didn’t know if someone else could, but she couldn’t.

Hundreds of people were standing on one trolley track, with Emily’s family on the other track. And she’d thrown the switch aiming the trolley straight at the three of them.

She knew it was only a matter of time. The only question was, how much time did they have? Would Superman find them before the world descended on her family and all hell broke loose?

• • •


“Now remember,” said Wells, “you must strive to stay hidden until you understand the world in which you find yourselves. Given the distance from our own, things may be wildly different. I cannot guarantee even that the inhabitants will be recognizably human. Even if they are, their culture and society may be alien to you. Don’t assume your currency will be accepted—”

“Yes, Mr. Wells, we understand,” interrupted Lois. “Get the lay of the land first.”

“As you say,” agreed Wells.

They were gathered in the secret room in the Kent townhouse, which housed Clark’s Superman uniforms and other paraphernalia. It was just large enough to accommodate the time machine, now augmented with the new three-axis device. On a small table against one wall sat the beacon, a small box with a single light that blinked regularly.

Not knowing what to expect, Lois and Clark were dressed for the outdoors. They had brought equipment and supplies for wilderness camping. It would hold them for a week or so, long enough to determine their next steps.

All of this was stowed in the time machine; they were ready to depart.

Clark helped Lois into the passenger side, then took the driver’s seat. “Thank you for all your help, Mr. Wells. Thank you for helping us get Kara back.” He shook Wells’s hand from where he sat.

“Yes, thank you,” said Lois.

“As always, it is my privilege to assist you,” replied Wells, tipping his head in acknowledgement. He stepped back.

Clark double-checked that the coordinates matched those on the paper they’d found, then threw the switch. A glow grew around the machine. Suddenly it seemed to move in an impossible way, sliding in a direction that didn’t exist. The glow faded to nothing, and they were gone.

Wells sighed. If all went as planned, from his perspective they should be back in less than half an hour. He checked the beacon one more time. As he did, he heard the doorbell ring.

He frowned. “Who on Earth could that be? One of their friends, perhaps, or a neighbor?”

He mentally rehearsed the story they’d made up on the off chance someone came by while Lois and Clark were gone. He was to be an old friend of Jonathan Kent’s, recently moved from London to Metropolis, looking for a place to live and staying with Lois and Clark in the meantime. He exited the secret room, touching the control that concealed it, and headed for the door.

Being from the early Twentieth Century, he didn’t think to look through the peephole before opening it.

It was Tempus, holding a large pizza box and a six-pack of beer in bottles. Wells gaped.

“Hey, did someone order a pizza?” Tempus did a theatrical double-take. “Oh, that’s right… I did!”

They stood in tableau for a minute, Tempus’s wild grin fading slowly. Finally he said, “Manners, Herb. It’s not cricket to leave an old friend standing on the doorstep.”

Wells didn’t say anything.

Tempus cleared his throat. “May I come in? The pizza’s getting cold.”

Wells stepped aside.

“That’s better!” Tempus ambled in, setting the pizza box on the coffee table along with the beer. He heard the door close, and turned to find Wells holding a revolver on him.

Tempus tsked. “Herb! I don’t know whether to feel hurt, or to congratulate you for trying to be more my kind of guy. Now if you actually started shooting I could really start to respect you.”

“What do you want, Tempus? Why are you here? What have you done with Miss Kent?”

“What do I want? I want to party! Share a pizza and some brews with my best bro! And ‘Miss Kent’” — he mimicked Wells’s accent — “is right where I left her.” He nodded towards the wet bar hiding the secret room. “In the world her parents just left for.”

“How do you know that?”

“Herb, Herb, Herb… having one of those gizmos myself, don’t you think I’d also have a gizmo for tracking one? I’ve been waiting for them to leave.”

“What do you hope to accomplish, Tempus?”

Tempus rolled his eyes. “You can put the gun down, Herb; I’m unarmed. I told you, I’m here for the celebration!”

Wells squinted. “What celebration?”

“Why, of the deaths of Superman, Lois Lane, and Utopia, of course!”

Wells felt a chill go up his back. “And how is that to come about?”

“It already has. Or it will. Once they arrive in that world. Oh, and thank you, Herb! You really came through. I knew you’d show them how to get there. I did leave a heavy-handed trail of breadcrumbs, but they needed you to solve the last piece of the puzzle.”

Wells lowered his revolver and felt slightly faint. “What’s going to happen?”

“Well, I’ll get to that, but you’re looking kinda peaked, Herb. You should eat something first.” He flipped open the pizza box. “Pepperoni or plain? I got half and half.”

• • •