Part Three
Later that evening, high atop the LexCorp building within the luxuriously appointed office of Lex Luthor, the billionaire stood on his terrace and looked out over the glittering mosaic that was the city of Metropolis. The night sky had grown menacing and heavy with thick, black almost purple storm clouds. The wind had begun to pick up ever so slightly; the air gently ruffled his black, wavy hair as he poured a glass of excellent aged vintage cognac and smiled triumphantly to himself. On the table he studied the evening edition of the Daily Planet, the bold, print headline stated:
DAILY PLANET REPORTER CLARK KENT SHOT BY MYSTERIOUS ASSASSIN
By James B. Olsen
A peaceful science conference at S.T.A.R. Labs was disrupted today when an assassin attempted to kill well known investigative reporter Clark Kent. Mr. Kent suffered a gunshot wound, was rushed to the hospital and remains in guarded condition. His wife, Lois Lane has been assured by trauma specialist, Peter Ross that if no complications arise, he should be able to return home in a week.<Pity,> he thought, <Mr. Kent aka Superman has cheated the Grim Reaper. Due to Dr. Klein’s last minute interference my long-range plans for this fair city have been put on hold … yet again. Ah, but not for long.>
Lex raised the heavy glass tumbler to his lips and sipped the cognac, liquorice, dried plum and apricot, flavors full-bodied and rich, danced seductively on his palate. He might not be celebrating the superhero’s demise, as he had hoped.
Nonetheless he could appreciate the opening act of Mr. Kent’s ‘real’ death. Soon the media exposure of his secret identity would irrevocably put an end to his privacy, not to mention the safety of his family and friends.
Ah yes, his family and friends …
His wife and partner, the fair Lois would have to cease working for the newspaper as an investigative reporter and live in seclusion. For a woman as passionate about journalism, especially one who was so determined to reveal the truth, living in such a reclusive manner would be akin to death.
If she had not walked away from him, he could have molded her latent talents and laid the world at her feet; unerringly elevating her from the anachronistic world of print journalism into LNN’s fascinating and influential newsroom. Hers would have been the face to greet first Metropolis than the nation and eventually the entire planet. To the public their union would become a living symbol of unity, integrity and strength.
Privately he and sweet, delectable Lois would have shared tantalizing, intimate pleasures beyond either of their wildest imagination.
But sadly it was not to be, his mind drifted back two years to the fateful day that she chose to align herself with a man who garnered less money in a year than his London tailor in three months. It was at the annual fundraiser for journalism scholarship which took place in Centennial Park. He remembered Lois wearing a simple linen green blouse and white cotton shorts, but they might as well be made of the finest silk she was so beautiful.
The day was warm and sunny; the kind ideal for wooing a delectable young woman. His eyes took in the sight of her sitting on a rough, old blanket reading some romance novel and drinking ordinary lemonade. He immediately went over and drew her into a private conversation; one which he had hoped would convince her to alter the course of her life forever.
But two things happened simultaneously ending the discussion and derailing his plans; Clark Kent interrupted to ask her to participate in a stupid three-legged race and then a nasty horde of fire ants attacked Lois’ delicate feet.
Kent did not allow him a chance to react; he interfered by carrying Lois to the medical tent. There Klein had seen to her wounded feet and he refused to leave her side for the rest of the day.
Come to think of it, the good doctor had interfered on that occasion as well. He needed to do something about *Bernard* very soon.
Afterwards, he had tried to coax Lois to see him again, but nothing worked. If he had not been distracted by Intergang’s aggressively trying to move in on his territory and Mrs. Cox’s betrayal he would have dealt with the matter sooner.
Eventually the woman he desired as his bride ended up dating her partner and the rest as they say is history. Lex shook his head in bitter disbelief when he saw the pitiful little ring Kent had given her from Lazer’s excuse for a jewelry store. The engagement ring *he* had chosen was fit for an Empress!
The bitterness evaporated when he thought of the days to come. In a matter of hours, Lois and her ‘husband’ would be the subject of the story rather than report it - a high price to pay for marrying that insufferable giblet.
He picked up a black VHS cartridge and tossed it like a child’s plaything into the air. On the label written in heavy black ink were the initials: CK=SM. Tonight by special messenger he would send over the footage shot by a third-rate freelance photojournalist of an unsuspecting Clark Kent changing into Superman in the back of a grubby alley near the Daily Planet Building.
The photojournalist – Rickes or was his name Wickes? Realized all too well what he had in his possession and decided to come immediately to Lex for a handsome payday. For a substantial amount of money the man handed over the footage. Lex would have cheerfully paid twice that much to have such proof of the alien’s true identity. What a delicious thought; destroying both his rival in love and his nemesis on the same day!
Thanks to one of Asabi’s skillful associates, the greedy photographer had met with an untimely automobile ‘accident’ on his way to the bank. Lex hadn’t wanted to take the chance that the fool might talk to another media outlet; either The Star or the Dirt Digger editors would kill to possess such information. After all, LNN had paid Rickes or Wickes dearly for the exclusive.
Tomorrow morning while janitors and executives were drinking bad coffee and lattes with stale bagels and over-priced muffins, the story of the century would be broken by LNN’s ‘Morning with Metropolis’ reporter Linda King. Another sweet little bit of irony he arranged for dear Lois’ sake. He was well aware of their rivalry and this was a flawless opportunity to exploit it. He could imagine the frantic phone calls fielded by Daily Planet staffers once the news broke. By lunchtime, thanks to the fledging internet, the entire world would know the truth.
It was a proper revenge against his main opponent and his lovely bride. Sooner or later the game had to come to an end; and of course only he could be the victor.
He felt a minuscule cold drop of rain splatter on his face, how cool and refreshing it was! Reluctantly he finished the remains of the cognac, picked up the tape and newspaper and then went inside his dark office. Very quickly the tiny drops multiplied into a torrent, the hard pelting sound of water slapping against the pavement filling his ears. As the terrace door slid closed he felt a puff of wind move past and it gave him a slight chill.
Once the sliding door was closed, Lex turned and laid the items on the imposing, antique wooden desk. The large room was more than an office; it was the very seat of his empire. His business dealings were vast and like a demanding mistress, constantly needed his attention. He reached out to turn on the lights when a flash of lighting filled the room, and he was startled by the figure of a man wearing a slightly damp classic tan Burberry trench coat sitting on the couch. Before his brain could register the intruder’s presence a loud clap of thunder pealed through the room, just as abruptly the room was plunged into inky darkness. Suddenly another burst of lighting briefly illuminated the space and now the intruder stood in front of Lex’s desk.
Momentarily startled, but maintaining his composure Lex fumbled for a switch on the desk’s surface, the room lights came on and Luthor was able to look at this extraordinary visitor. He was middle-aged, tall, over six feet, he carried himself with the gracefulness of an athlete, yet there was something of his bearing which spoke of a military background. Coal black hair, beginning to grey at the temples, was cut short; the handsome face, with angles so sharp they could cut diamonds was maddeningly familiar. The most striking feature were his visitor’s eyes, a blue like none he had ever seen, like round fragments of silvery cobalt. Residing within those eyes burned depths of wisdom and sadness, here was someone who had witnessed more than his fair share of pain and tragedy.
Luthor spoke first, refusing to be intimidated by his visitor’s sudden appearance, “Who are you?”
The man continued to graze at him and before answering a phantom of a weary smile flitted across his lips. He spoke with a soft, raspy voice; the accent was unfamiliar, even alien to Lex’s ears. “For a man of such power and consequence you frighten easily when faced with the unknown. I am simply a visitor … a traveler if you will.” The tall man studied the room carefully, taking in the different archaic weapons, statues, paintings and overdone furnishings. He said simply, “This is a chamber dedicated to the complete acquisition and maintenance of power. Tell me Mr. Luthor, are you married?”
Caught off guard by the man’s innocent question, Lex said, “No, not anymore.” He gave himself a hard mental shake. Why did he mention his brief, ill-fated marriage with Arianna? This man, despite his congenital manner was an enigma – an annoying one at that! Quickly, cautiously he pressed a button under the lip of the desk, activating the silent alarm.
The visitor shook his head sadly, silently acknowledging the action. Unbeknownst to Lex, the wires leading from the button had been destroyed seconds before. “Of *course* you are no longer married, someone who created and works in a space such as this is too busy to share his life with *any* woman …much less a woman of quality and spirit. It would mean revealing your inner self and being vulnerable … something an ‘empire builder’ such as yourself could never relax his emotional control to do.”
Luthor was about to answer, but the visitor continued speaking in a low voice, as if the billionaire were not standing in the room with him.
“Please forgive me, my manners are lacking, this is after all, *your* office, I am merely a …guest. Let’s us sit down Mr. Luthor and converse.” He turned and indicated the two comfortable leather chairs in front of the fireplace. Lex walked past him and took a seat, confident that his trained security guards would soon burst into the room and extricate this stranger from his home.
The tall man made himself comfortable as the fine leather of the chair surrounded his body; he had removed the damp Burberry trench coat before sitting and was wearing an impeccably tailored black suit with a cream colored shirt and black tie. He looked like a Wall Street investment banker or influential stock broker. Yet Lex had the distinct impression that this man was vastly more than what he appeared.
The visitor leaned back and to Lex’s eye he seemed to be studying him with those cool silvery orbs. If someone were to walk in on them now they would merely see two executives having a civilized conversation about their latest acquisitions, but one of them was a trained killer, coiled and ready to attack.
The traveler spoke, his voice still controlled and relaxed. “Let me tell you a story Mr. Luthor, the one your news agencies call ‘Superman’ is referred to as the lone survivor of a planetary disaster. His parents desperate to save their newborn child placed him into a vessel and launched it into blackest space. Quite a narrative, but unfortunately the young man could not have related the *entire* story.”
Lex’s ears perked up. “Superman? Yes, his origins always struck me as ‘unfinished’, for lack of a better word. How did he become part of our conversation?”
The visitor said, “I shall tell you. For millennia we knew our world was in danger of destruction from the planet’s core and after much debate, took aggressive steps to preserve our ancient culture. Leading astronomers scanned the known galaxies searching for a new planet we could call home. It took nearly two centuries, but a suitable world, one with a breathable atmosphere revolving around a red sun was found.”
“It took years to build a fleet of ships, immense enough to carry all the technological, medical, agricultural and personal needs of several large colonies. Those ships held the very best and brightest our world had to offer. It was their responsibility to forge a new homeworld for our people. I believe your scientists use the term … ‘terraform’. For our purposes the planet would be altered to sustain life for us."
Lex acknowledged the term by saying, “It is a science we have unfortunately not been able to perfect as yet, but give us time. Please continue.”
“I was assigned to be aboard one of those ships, the lead scientist in my field, but foolishly, refused to join the first wave of technologists and agricultural engineers. Would that I had … so much of the sorrow I experienced in later years leads back to that fateful decision.”
“The planet as a whole rejoiced when that intrepid group of half a million individuals was launched into space’s black embrace. For several months the population held its collective breath and waited to hear of their arrival. When our satellites received the signals that they had landed successfully and were busily pursuing their objective, the planet wide celebrations were indescribable.”
“Unfortunately, our scientists’ calculations as precisely *when* the final disaster would occur were not accurate. Who would be egotistical enough to foretell the day of a planet’s end? Krypton’s death tremors came upon us much sooner than any of us considered possible. The day the infant had been launched into space everyone – especially his parents - were convinced that all was lost. Indeed, untold millions were killed in the geological cataclysm. Yet sadly only minutes *after* the tiny craft had cleared Krypton’s atmosphere the massive tremors ceased and the planet was silent once more.”
The man cease speaking and long, elegant fingers briefly touched his forehead, as if the memories of that horrifying event gnawed at his memory like a ravenous animal.
“The final death tremors did not occur again for another ten years; during which time the grim vestiges of our space agency built an even larger fleet of ships, great enough to transport nearly eight million of our citizens to New Krypton. A far lower number than was originally projected.
When the initial colonists had departed from Krypton years before, our world was still lush and vital. The first wave of voyagers was saddened by the knowledge they would never see their homeworld again. But this last armada of ships was filled with frightened, and in some cases, unknown to the ship’s medical officers, dangerously ill survivors desperate to quit the world they once called home.
In the meantime we had tracked the tiny ship with its infant passenger through the heavens towards this planet. Even when it landed on your continent in a place called Kansas, we continued observing the infant’s progress. It is how I have learned your language and much of this world’s culture.”
Lex, plainly astonished by the traveler’s tale, asked curtly,
“If Kryptonian technology was so advanced, why not go after him?”
“The needs of one grieving family could not be put ahead of millions. Besides his father was burdened with duties to his new world; he was one of the last survivors of the ruling house of Krypton.”
The visitor refrained from mentioning the series of calamities that prevented him from sending a team to effect the infant’s retrieval from planet Earth.
***
Only three months after the second wave of colonists safely landed on New Krypton, a mysterious plague spread like wildfire throughout the populace, half a million people were stricken by the disease and half that number died. It took all the talents in the medical arts field to put an end to the scourge.
***
A year later his beloved wife presented him with a strong, healthy son - one of many children born on New Krypton. Sadly five years after his birth, the First Lady of New Krypton died from massive injuries sustained during an accident while driving a harvesting machine. Unfortunately his wife lay in the field for nearly 30 minutes before she was discovered by another worker. She was placed into stasis and swiftly brought to the nearest med-center and lain in a healing unit. But the damage had been done and despite all efforts, could not be reversed.
Lex snorted derisively, "Why would a ruler allow his wife to be a farmhand?"
The traveler's shoulders gave a tiny shrug, "At one time a member of the ruling family would never dirty their hands with manual labor, now everyone from the nobility to the lowliest house servant worked in as many jobs as possible. Their new homeworld was a wild planet which demanded much attention if it was to be tamed and cultivated into a world fit for the survivors of Krypton. Many of the upper houses complained that if the work was handled by minions as it had in times past their First Lady would still be alive, able to rule by her husband side and raise their son to manhood.
Part of him wanted to agree with Jen-Mai, Nor and many others, but he knew this was a new world and the old ways simply did not fit.
A moonround** after his wife’s grand state funeral he returned to the same field where she died and began planting seeds. It was a gesture meant to encourage all Kryptonians, noble born and poor folk alike; work must be done by all if they were to survive.
The Council of Elders felt that after a proper period of mourning he should wed. After all his young son needed a mother as much as his father needed a mate. The leader of their world needed to be a family man, one who could lead their population away from the warrior tendencies that previous First Lords were inclined towards. They felt he needed to marry someone similar to his first wife, only more docile - a fitting model for other wives on New Krypton to emulate. Of late their taste for independence had deepened. If the First Lady of New Krypton was submissive, the other ladies would fall in line.
When he told them of his decision to take Josca as his new life mate they were surprised, she seemed to them to be a strange – even insulting - choice.
Josca was born to the house of Ra, daughter of a concubine and a younger son. Since traditionally such offspring were not considered of importance, especially the females, they were allowed to chose whatever profession they wished as long it did not permit them entry into the noble houses.
On the date of her 16th year, rather than be bartered off in marriage to some tradesman she joined the agricultural guild. In time her unique grasp of the challenges they faced cultivating this new world propelled her into the influential circles of the upper houses. Where they eventually meet and through a respectful friendship, love grew. Josca was in his mind, with her gentle manner and quick wits a perfect match.
Regrettably, the council’s feelings were not the same.
“Take her as a concubine as her station permits. Not as a wife!” Jen-Mai shouted in objection.
Trey, as per usual spoke calmly to dispel the unrest. “My Lord, perhaps you could choose someone of a more suitable background?”
“What better background could she have? New Krypton is a wilderness, one which must be tamed by strength of hand and heart. Josca will stand at my side, not only as a warrior, but as a agricultural scientist. Together we shall lead our people and bend this planet to our will so it may become a world we can be proud of. She is *my* choice.”
Later he approached Jen-Mai privately and informed him, “Should you ever consider Josca as a ‘concubine’ again … it will be the last time.”
He was not proud of threatening the councilman, but it could not be avoided. He would not be dissuaded and by the end of four moonrounds, Josca became his life mate. By the time of their ten year she had bore him a son and daughter.
≈
In those years many challenges arose, chief among them the battle led by the traitor Nor-Ur who desired to wrest control from the council of Elders. He had long wanted to twist the remnants of Kryptonian society into a distorted image of their ancestors. Kryptonians in their distant past were once a passionate - almost warlike people. But the terrible destruction of what the tyrant Jax-Ur* did centuries before to one of our moons cooled their collective ardor. Sadly some like; Nor-Ur did not acknowledge that example and wanted to rule New Krypton in the style of his rejected predecessor. The grim, bloody battles between Nor’s followers took time away from building the strong communities New Kryptonians needed to survive. The illogical waste and loss of life resulting from that civil war would haunt him for the remainder of his days.
It was only after he personally captured and executed Nor-Ur did the rebellion come to an end. All the secondary leaders and their lieutenants were executed as well. Unfortunately since he had become one of Nor’s followers, Jen-Mai also paid the ultimate price for his treachery.
True nobility knows its responsibility to the people and does not allow for such hubris.
The visitor broke free of his deep thoughts and said to Lex, “If you are an example of this world’s nobility, it is no wonder he is needed here.”
“*Who* is needed here?” Lex answered sneeringly. He was beginning to wonder where his security guards were.
“The one your communications outlets refer to as Superman of course. It was a coward’s mistake for you to attack him in front of his wife and friends. Among my people if we wish to extract revenge we do it directly … but in private. No need to embroil others in the dispute. But due to his ethics and current physical condition, Kal-El is powerless to fight you; thus as is my right, I must do it for him.”
Startled, Lex said, “His real name is Kal-El? How did you know that?”
Ignoring the question, his visitor pointed to the desk and said, “That ‘tape’ which would expose his alter ego and destroy the life he has so painstakingly constructed shall not leave this chamber.”
Lex looked at the VHS cartridge and before he could grab it, watched as a solitary black curl of acrid smoke ascended as the cassette imploded and fused into a pile of charred, blackened plastic. The sight frightened him, there was only one person on the planet with that ability and currently he was in the hospital recovering from being shot with a kryptonite tipped bullet. He turned back to the tall man and noticed with horror that the cobalt eyes were twin orbs of malevolent scarlet. He was also wearing the trench coat again. When did he have time to put it on?
Lex although frightened, snarled “Who are you!?”
The deceptively soft voice spoke again. “My family and I have traveled a long way to see my son. I am Jor-El, First Lord of New Krypton, son of Yar-El* and father of Kal-El.”
“You … you are Superman's father? The ruler of *New* Krypton? That is impossible!” Lex cried in disbelief.
All pretense of civility forgotten, Jor-El stood, his lean, yet powerful form tense with restrained rage. “As First Lord, it is in my power to adjudicate, convict and punish wrong doers, but in this instance, I shall work with our council of Elders. For the attempted murder of my son, we Kryptonians view such a crime as a matter of state against a member of the nobility. As for evidence of who I am …”
The visitor removed the trench coat again, instead of the perfectly tailored dark suit, he wore a black jumpsuit, emblazoned in gold on the chest was the familiar S symbol of Superman.
“Before I can reveal myself to Kal-El, *any* threat to his family must be neutralized.” Jor-El seized Luthor and moved him to the side of the room. “Come Mr. Luthor, it is time for you to stand trial.”
Lex stepped back, his voice shook with trepidation. “Wh … where are you taking me?”
Jor-El opened the palm of his hand and seemingly from thin air materialized a small circular device, he touched a button and suddenly a brilliant ray emanated from the device and where it touched the wall an aperture appeared. “You shall be sent to the throneship, there your fate awaits.”
Fear, the kind that Lex had never known, traveled through his body like a sharp spike through a pine plank. The man before him was most decidedly *not* Clark Kent or his alter ego Superman. Superman *did not* kill. By Jor-El’s admission his hands – no matter how justified - were not clean of bloodshed.
“Surely there is something I can do to alter your … decision?” Lex said, trying to maintain his dignity.
Jor-El looked down on him, his sharp features harden with tightly controlled anger. It was the only time during their conversation his voice had risen from the soft rasp of a man discussing business. “Why should I? On this day you tried to murder my *son*. Failing that you determined to destroy his life, no matter who else suffered the consequences. You deserve death. I should execute judgment myself and save the council the trouble!” He raised his fist to strike and brought it down hard, only to stop a millimeter from Lex Luthor’s face.
Realizing the fatal blow had not stuck him, the look of shock on Lex’s face twisted into an arrogant mask of disgust. “Just like your son – too spineless to take a life!”
In answer to the taunt, Jor-El grabbed the billionaire by the front of his shirt - ripping the fabric in the process and threw him bodily through the portal.
A furious scream was cut off when the portal sealed. Again the lighting flashed, followed by an ear splitting clap of thunder and when it ceased, Lex Luthor had vanished as if he had never been.
Scant seconds later, the portal opened again and another figure, a petite woman with long, wavy hair as black as a raven’s wing stepped through the gateway. She walked over to the tall man and reached up, wiped away a lone tear as it streaked down his face.
The gentle tones of her voice flowed over his heart like refreshing waters, cooling the warrior’s rage which had overcome him so suddenly, “My Lord, General Ching and his guard have the defendant in custody. The council applauds your ...self restraint. If it is your wish, the trial will be held immediately upon our return to New Krypton.”
“Good." He took a quick breath and said, "I …I wanted to kill him. I almost did. Josca … my hands are steeped in blood, after Nor and his followers were executed … I made an oath never to kill again. But he …”
She took his face firmly in her hands and spoke soothingly, in a gentle voice he could easily heard despite the loud thunderclaps. Her large brown eyes filled with loving concern for her life mate. “Such thoughts are unworthy of you. No, sparing him for trial was the proper course. We as a people must strive to return to the days of reason, compassion and love. As First Lord and Lady is it not our duty to guide them on the correct path? No matter how many rocks and boulders we come across along the way? If the council finds him innocent he will return with us to New Krypton. He cannot be allowed to remain here and disrupt Kal-El’s life.” She was silent for a moment and said thoughtfully, “Our appearance will be disruption enough …”
“True. What shall I say to Kal-El? I have watched him from afar all these years and now we shall finally meet. The message I sent along with him was as a man of peace. How will he accept the warrior I have become?”
She touched his hand and spoke firmly, “Jor-El the rebellion is finished. Who knows what might have happened if Nor-Ur had lived? Perhaps he would have killed us and demanded Zara as his wife? Where would that leave her mate Ching? Alone or perhaps dead.”
“Yes.”
“Nor’s arrogance would have pushed him to come to Earth and kill Kal-El, Kal-El who is an Earthman, *not* Kryptonian. Would it have been fair to rip him from his life and all he loves? Talk to him and explain everything. He is your son, I have no doubt given time, one day, he shall understand …”
“I hope you are right. Let us go, I want to see my son, know truly what kind of man he is… know his life mate.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and said, “Than, let us go.”
The End
*See the book, Last Days of Krypton by Kevin J. Anderson
**One Month.
