Sunday, July 7, 2024

A Older Clark Kent Becomes Superman

Kal-El Decides to FIGHT.

In this story Superman as such does not exist. Johnathan Kent's adopted son has not yet decided to become a hero. He knows his Kryptonian name and around other aliens, uses it.


Kal-El struggled with his chains. They were clearing made out of some non-terrestrial metal or they would have shattered easily. “Excuse me sir, I really wouldn't bother. If you try to escape he'll just hurt you again.”

“Escape? This a prison?”

“One of the more ancient and secure in 16 galaxies.” The man said calmly. As his eyes adjusted he could make out a man in the cell across from him. The man looked like a middle-aged human with light blonde hair and very thin eyebrows. He spoke with simplicity and confidence.

“Who are you and what brought you to this?”

“I was a farmer. And then I became a thief. And now I'll die for it.”

“And what planet's government sends you to death just for stealing.”

“My jailer claims Kryptonian authority. This place is a jail for the worst criminals in the 16 galaxies and was originally managed by Kryptonians so as far as that goes he is right but this __Krypton has NO death penalty for any crime.”

“You spent some time here before...I take it?”

“I was a smuggler for a cycle and sentenced here for 12.” Kal-El looked dejected. “It is fair, and I do not question the judgment. But I could wish they'd tell me for what new crime I've been re-arrested.” The man said in an even voice.

“You are here to pay for your original crime Nomatar.”

“I am NOT nameless.” The man said with surprising feeling. “My name is Narek.”

“Do you prefer I call you 008429?” the guard said indifferently.

“You can go ahead and execute me. But you cannot take my name from me.”

“I have already done that Nomatar.” the helmeted guard turned to his Kryptonian guest. “It means 'nameless'.” He explained casually.

“Under whose authority do you execute him?”

“Under my own authority you simpleton. I am the only surviving guard left to keep our oaths and continue enforcing justice.”

“Perhaps you will do me the courtesy of telling me where I have been imprisoned?”

“This was Fort Rozz. Designed to hold criminals from 16 of the 23 known inhabited galaxies. And now you Octavius will face true justice.” A thin man perhaps 26 Earth years of age was taken from the cell beside Narek's. His skin was sea green his hair matted and greasy. “Prisoner 008428, you have been found guilty of assault, theft, piracy and conspiracy to commit kidnapping. The sentence declared is death. To be carried out immediately.” No sooner had these words been spoken than Octavius was forced to his knees and beheaded.

“Octavius was his real name?” Kal-El asked of the man across the corridor from him.

“Yes. Why does that surprise you?”

“Why is he allowed to keep his name and you are not?”

Narek chuckled. “I was born on Star Haven. To them a name is a possession, a gift. Anton as I call him knows how demoralizing it is that even my name is taken from me. Laserites like Octavius don't particularly care.”

“So he does it as simply a final insult?”

“I suppose so.” The resignation on the man's face was heart-breaking.

“That's it, I'm getting you out of here.”

Kal-el burned the lock of his cell door with his heat vision, silently thanking whatever God existed that his jailer had not bothered to flood the cell with red sunlight. He pulled the door to Narek's cell off of its hinges. But was thrown backwards against the wall.

“You seriously have no respect for justice.” the guard growled darkly.

“I believe very strongly in Justice.” Kal-El retorted. “But that's not what this is.”

Narek ran to the wall and took a rifle from the weapons locker. He pointed it at Anton's temple. “You should seriously reconsider your current course of action. I will shoot you, if I have to.”

“So much for being a man of peace.” Anton taunted him.

“Oh I am a man of peace Anton. But we always had to defend our fields from rampaging herds and ravagers alike, which means I know how to use a weapon. And right now I'm defending a FRIEND, which means I will use it without hesitation. So I say again: Stand down.”

The guard instantly dropped his hands. “Why did you bother giving me the name Anton?”

You mean why chose that particular name for you? It means 'Solider of Duty'. It seemed to fit.”

“That it does. And I surrender myself to justice.” He turned to Kal-El. “I would go down on my knees and accept my sentence. But you won't kill me, will you?”

“No, I won't. But I will find you the most isolated cell in this place and lock you away in it.”

“The fourth sub-level on the twilight side.” The guard replied. Kal-el looked at Narek.

“It's for prisoners who would actually think about what they've done.:” The man explained casually. “It's called twilight because the constant levels of low light and quiet sounds, lends itself to thinking and reflection.”

“For criminals who would do their time without incident.”

“Yes, forgive me I did not even ask your name.”

“I suppose you would call me Kal-El.”

“...I see. Then you must forgive me but, may I ask what happens to me?”

That's when it finally occurred to him. The guard had not flooded his cell with red solar rays, because he'd had no way of knowing his race, neither had Narek. And this prison had once been run by Kryptonians. Which is why Anton had surrendered so willingly. To the simple, straight-forward mind of a prison guard, Kryptonians were in charge of their own prison.

“Where is home for you? On Earth I mean.”

“Colorado State University, Colorado Springs.”

“then hold onto me. That's your next stop.”

Narek wrapped his arms around Kal-El's torso. Four minutes later they were over the astronomy building of the university. Narek stumbled a bit as they touched down.

“I am quite grateful that I did not acquire the ability to fly on this planet.”

“I'm still getting used to it myself.”

“You're letting me go?”

“Yes. That's the general idea.” Kal-El said slowly.

“I don't understand. Why would you do this?”

“Well from MY understanding you've served your time. And even if not, I'd say your actions today earned you an early release.”

Narek took Kal's hands in his own, shaking in pure joy.

“Thank you Kal-El. I could never repay you for this.”

“Yes you can.” Kal-El said with a smile. “Lead a good life. Keep being kind.”

“I promise I will.”

“What do you teach here anyway?”

“Can you not guess?”

“I'd say linguistics but...The stars. You teach humans about the stars.”

“The one thing I know better than anyone else on this planet. Beside most humans, aren't interested in learning alien languages.

“And Earth languages would sound...more than a little strange to you, naturally.”

Narek turned his head away and looked sideways at Kal-El. “Would it be presumptuous of me to say you have redeemed your family name today?”

“I do not understand your hesitation. The question itself for that matter. I was raised here on Earth. I don't my know Kryptonian culture any more than I know – a Laserites.”

Narek picked on a stick started digging into the grass. “This is the symbol for the House of El. Which I take by your surname to be your family. They are - humans would say they have their noses firmly in the air. None more so than one named Zor-El. He sentenced hundreds here without a thought.”

“Including you.”

“One wrong cannot be negated for better OR worse by committing another Kal-El. When I said I accepted the justice of my sentence, I meant it. But I stole a sum equal to almost a year's pay. There are those who got my sentence for stealing the contents of a farmhouse.” Kal El turned his head away, dejected. “As I said,” Narek continued hurriedly. “You are not your family. And you have done a great thing here, that if I have anything to say about it, will be what the house fo El is remembered for.”

“That is both praise and an affirmation. And I thank you for it.”





My first attempt and bringing life to the scribbles I wrote down for new D.E.O. Stories. I wrote those half-notes years ago.

On Earth-42 Johnathan Kent receives a visitor at his home looking for his father, Hiram Kent. Hiram had passed away only weeks earlier. Kal'el, or as he identifies himself Calvin Harris is embarrassed, but also clearly quite troubled at the news. Johnathan surmises from Calvin's genuinely troubled reaction that his father must have done some great good for Calvin and asks him to stay with him and his family for a few days. Four days later, Calvin opens up, just a little. “My father, not me.” He goes on to explain that when his father visited this place before, he met a man named Hiram Kent. With absolutely no reason to trust a stranger at the gate, Hiram did. Not only trusted him, helped him. And a message his father left him instructed him to seek out Hiram Kent, and if at all possible, to help him. Which is why he had such a downtrodden expression on his face. By the span of two weeks, he cannot fulfill his father's wish and help the man.

Where are you from?” Johnathan asks him gently.

Far enough away it doesn't matter.”

What was your father's name?”

His name was Jor-el.” Calvin looks up from the mug of coffee he is holding in his hand. “And you're right. I'm an alien. I call myself Calvin Harris because my individual name is 'Kal'.”

How long have you been here?”

I was about 5 years old when I landed. There was a message in my ship from my father telling me about...Smallville about Hiram. And not to try to change people, just help them to be better on their own.” He holds up a thin bar of what looked like granite he wore around his neck. “That was...nine years ago I think. I know this probably sounds selfish but I finally get where I'm going and I can't help. Now I really don't know what to do.”

Listen, why don't you stay here.” Martha Kent asks gently. Calvin looked up, confusion and uncertainty all over his face. “To live I mean. Stay with us.”

I don't understand.” Calvin said earnestly. “I've told you what I am.”

And we don't care...about that at least.” Johnathan said warmly. “Listen Martha and I...we can't have kids of our own. It would be a blessing if...you would let us love you like our son.”

 Hakarat Tova Ho-re. Kal-el said with an explosion of feeling. He set the mug down and stood up quickly. He reached out his arms and embraced his new family. “Thank you...Father.” He said, translating his words into English.

“You know Hebrew?” Jeremiah said with surprise.

“No, that was Kryptonian. My native language.”

“Oh...sounded like Hebrew.”


Friday, July 5, 2024

Friendly Neighborhood Martian

 Jeremiah and His New Friends

Jeremiah would never part with Nikita if he had literally anything to say about it. Within 3 weeks of escaping the D.E.O. they were apprehended by a man who was CLEARLY alien...and a warrior. They have spent almost as long in an old room under his, literal non-sarcastic near silent care.

Nikita and I were alone but together for more than a week. The alien would come, feed us, ask us a few rather simple questions and then leave. I was having trouble making heads or tails of him.

This is...I don't even know how to finish that sentence.”

Nikita calm down, you'll only exhaust yourself.”

I have...You're right of course. It's just our host, for lack of another word confuses me.”

How do you read him? For holding us prisoner he doesn't seem particularly interested in us.”

He's trying to make sense of us. More specifically, of me.”

“Does he know who you are?”

“In that I'm an alien. The rest of it, I think he has...a nearly accurate picture of everything. I'm starting to get the suspicion that I'm 15 degrees off of everything I know about him.”

“How do you mean?”

“Either he's extremely a-typical for his race or I got the two of them confused to begin with.” She looked down again. “Then again, he would have had even longer than I did to learn otherwise.”

Jeremiah looked sad a moment. “I take it by 'to learn otherwise' you mean 'to learn what living on Earth would have taught him'.” Nikita nodded solemnly, her straight auburn hair shaking slightly with the motion. "How long have you had to learn the ways and normality's of Earth?”

“I first landed on Earth not too long before you landed on the moon.”

“Okay one, you do not look that old. And two, how much older do you think he is?”

“My people live about 120 of our own years. I don't know how long that is in yours. And...he's been here for at least 300 years.”

“Okay how do you know THAT?”

“He's a Martian. No matter what else he is, he's a Martian. Which...I hate being so clinical about the damn thing but Mars has been...inhospitable for the last 300 years.”

“Wait, are you saying that depending on which race of Martian he is...”

“Jeremiah, if that man wanted us dead we'd BE dead.”

“Then why the hesitation?”

“Because I'd rather believe that the way he's been talking to me is a result of him living on Earth for the last 300 years and not because I got it wrong which race of Martian was which.”

“Okay, now you really do need to sit down and vague out.”

“That sounds like an exceptionally good idea.” She sat down on the floor, feet together, knees high, looking rather like butterfly or a very awkward spider. Her head dropped and she entered what Jeremiah knew to be a meditative state. A pose she maintained into the next morning. Her knees were almost as high as her head was low. She could have been sleeping except her eyes were moving around, she was clearly aware of her surroundings. She didn't even look up when their keeper walked into the room. Jeremiah could sense something was wrong. In the 20 something days they'd spent in his care, his attention had been split evenly between Jeremiah and his charge. If anything he had payed slightly more attention to the middle-aged human male than the unskilled but confident female with him. Perhaps he'd recognized the custodial role Jeremiah had in her life. Something was different today: the man's eyes never left Nikita's face.

Come with me, now.” He said to Nikita, who still did not raise her head. “I'll not ask again.”

Jeremiah stood between his friend and their host. “Leave her alone.” The man raised his hand, as if to backhand Jeremiah. In the last instant he pulled himself back. Jeremiah gave a grateful look before continuing his plea. “Please, whatever you have planned for her, take me instead.”

For all you know I'm about to take her away and execute her. Do you still volunteer?”

No, but I know you're not going to do that. Nikita was right if you wanted either one of us dead we'd BE dead by now. What you want from us, what you've been after this entire time is answers.”

“Yes. And it's about time I get them.” He took Nikita by the wrist. Jeremiah grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away. The man looked both pleased and amused. “Your actions are heroic, if exceedingly unwise.”

'What do you want with her?' Why the sudden interest in her specifically?' 'Leave her alone you animal!' These expressions stretched themselves across Jeremiahs face in about 2 seconds. He said none of these things. Instead he held out his hands in an emphatically non-threatening posture. “Sir, and I call you that because I have nothing else to call you, for what must be almost a month by know we have been nothing but civil with each-other, though exceedingly impatient. A friend of mine told me that even enemies can give each-other compliments. And we've lived that, so far. If you hurt her, my restraint will go right out the window. And I will probably die trying to take you down. But I swear on my life if you let her go, you can do whatever you want to me__in payment of that debt.” This speech did not have quite the effect he'd intended. The green-skinned Martian actually backed away from his human charge and cast down his eyes.

“You, care for her?”

“This surprises you?”

Among my people not to introduce yourself is extremely rude, even among enemies. Form what I understand that is a tenet across the galaxies. We have given you our names Sajen. I'd appreciate the same courtesy. Nikita's voice came as almost a balm to the conversation.

I do not understand.” Jeremiah admitted.

Neither does our host...at all. He is almost as blind as Henshaw himself and he can freaking read out minds to learn the truth of our souls!” Nikita's voice displayed no anger as she said this. The only emotion to come through her voice was...regret. “You've figured out I'm not Enkaren. You must have known I was not a threat. It follows you thought Jeremiah was...to me if not to yourself. To ask a question I have had in my mind since you started questioning me: Phobos or Deimos?”

You know the difference?” The Martian inquired, astonished beyond measure.

I know what they are, I don't know the difference...That was the entire problem on my part.”

In the early days of Mars there were two brothers, Phobos and Deimos. Their rivalry and bloodshed was the reason for the split of the Green and White Martians.” I learned that from an Enkaren woman I once knew here on Earth. From which I understood that Phobos and Deimos were like Ishmael and Issac from the Old Testament. Except they split along such divergent paths they became two separate races rather than founding two separate religions. I never learned who was whose progenitor.”

You never knew if my kind were...Ishmael or Issac?”

I've never met your kind before in my life. And the White Martian I met was...Hank's favorite example of how dangerous aliens could truly be. She'd been in that cell for over a decade when I met her. No one could hold completely to their morals after that.” She spoke with unrestrained bitterness. “In case you haven't figured it out yet, Henshaw was a Creech-ta. If not a Chrish-naka Sareth. And until now you seemed equally blinded.”

Why do I get the feeling that if you had known I belonged to Deimos... you would have...”

'Deimos Pah, Tar-ek Ni-cha.' would have been the first thing out of my mouth 3 days ago.”

Could someone provide me with a translation, please?” Jeremiah asked, nonplussed.

What she said was that I've failed or disgraced the name of my progenitor. She just needed to know which of the brothers I came from before saying it. White Martians are...”

Monsters.” Nikita finished for him. “I was reasonably certain of that because of my other alien friends. I just never knew who came from whom.”

How in the name of rational thought are you speaking the Enkaren language so naturally if you are not, yourself Enkaren?!”

Because it's my native language as well!” Nikita replied, openly laughing at her host.

But you...you're not...” He rubbed his left forefinger against her temple, as if tracing something that shouldn't be there. “Are you Xavallen?”

Why should that be of particular interest to you?”

The alien actually bent his back forward and backed away from Nikita. “I...my name is... J'onn Jo'nzz. And I must humbly beg your pardon.”

I...do not understand. Please you owe me nothing.”

Okay, I'm officially lost.” Jeremiah admitted.

“No less so than I.”

“You...you don't...” J'onn actually stammered.

"If you're referring to something about my being Xavallen, I wouldn't know about it. My parents taught me more about Enkarens, Brevaks, Martians and pretty much any other race in the galaxies than they did about my own kind.”

“Nikita, I was as wrong about you as Henshaw. I will find a way to make it right.” He walked away without another word.


Most humans, most races in the galaxies at all no matter how much they try to lift the head of another and put the needs of their friends first, would still put their own life, their own survival before anything else at need. Xavallens don't. They are, by comparison to their brethren, Friars and Philosophers.”

“Getting a 'B' in self-preservation but an 'A' in protecting others, even strangers?”

“If I understand you correctly, yes.”

“I'm afraid I still don't understand your...attitude change.”

“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races to each-other. Enkarens are – genetically speaking in trouble – but also far superior to humans in most respects. And apparently, along with the Atraxi, they all speak the same native language.”

Realization blanketed Jeremiah's face. “And she doesn't make sense for an Enkaren.”

(The implication being J'onn thought Nikita WAS Enkaren and it confused him endlessly)

J'onn nodded. “Xavallens are a protected species.”

Wait, what?”

Their home-world became uninhabitable over 200 years ago. Most of them are nomadic. But some have assimilated, to varying degrees, into other cultures. Jeremiah, – For one thing may I call you that? – Of course – for 16 of the 23 major powers in these galaxies, if I'd known what she was my interrogation of her without cause, without defiance sent would have been a crime.”

"They are...that protected."

“Most of us realize we need a voice like theirs in the chorus. And...her people are not good at making enemies. So most of us...really wouldn't see the point in conquering them. White Martians being the obvious exception.”

“No, Jeremiah he is absolutely 100% correct. White Martians are considered blind, militaristic assholes to any race that are not themselves militaristic and self-superior.”

“But the fight might have been taken out of the one we...Hank has in custody.”


Sound of One Voice

  Nikita warmly greets J'onn who is clearly uncomfortable, and a little standoffish. “ J'onn I am asking as formally as I can for...