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.”
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