Earth-21 Elana Morris (Later to be Elana Stien) Receives a surprisingly civil visitor.
“Martin,
come in, please.”
“Thank
you. I just came by to see how you are feeling.”
“The
atmospheric specifications are holding. Things are filtered, diluted
enough I can breath way easier than before. Now all I have to do is
De-atrophy my muscles.” She rubs her leg, half-grinning. “But
that'll take time.”
“Something
I imagine you'll have a lot of. I'm still somewhat surprised J'onn
let you out.”
“Well,
if anything does go worse, I'll call. But, well for one, relax
Martin. No standing on ceremony when we're off the clock. Forgive me
is that how you prefer to be addressed?”
“I'm
confused.”
“You're
the kind of person I'd feel happy calling by their first name. But
with the intense academia of your demeanor and just the fact that I
know you as a doctor/scientist first, I thought I'd check.”
“Well
as you say, we're 'off the clock', Martin will do just fine.”
“Cool.
I'll make us some coffee.” Elana took grounds, water and filters out before Martin could say anything.
“Why
not a glass of red wine?” The spoon stopped over the carafe. She
didn't look away and continued filling it.
“Don't
have any right now. Besides I need to clear the fuzz out
of
my brain.”
“Makes
sense.”
A
few minutes later Elana handed her guest a small mug of black
coffee. “I have to say, I'm not sure J'onn would understand this.”
“He'd
think something was 'going on' between us just because we're having
coffee?”
Elana pulled her hands behind her back and said in a clipped tone. “I do
not believe J'onn J'onzz would understand this, not at first anyway.”
Martin
Stein put the mug on the table. A moment later the appearance of
Martin Stein vanished and in his place was a petite, green-skinned
alien with four digits on her fingers and a very confused expression
on her face. “What gave me away? If you were telepathic or empathic
you wouldn't have been fooled for a minute. Something must have given
me away, what was it?”
“Red
wine.” Elana said simply. “It's one of two alcohols I keep
around and usually I would have it on hand, and you picked up on that. But Martin wouldn't have asked for it; he doesn't drink red wine...only white.” She chuckled. “Believe me, I did not actually do that intentionally.
The coffee really is for you.”
The
woman picked up the mug, sniffed it briefly and drank. “I must
admit, you seem to be taking this remarkably well.”
“I
figure if you wanted to hurt me, you'd have done so by now. So why
don't you tell me who you are and what you want.”
“My
name is Me'gann Mor'zz. I'm here to learn about J'onn...and by
extension the D.E.O. Are you seriously not bothered by this?”
“Like
I said, J'onn would
have a problem with it. I don't
care.”
“As
peaceful an alien as J'onn himself.”
“Well
you should know better than most not all aliens are assholes to
each-other. By the way, is the air as thin for you as it is for me? I
never learned Martian physiology well enough to tell.”
“You
should know, this...isn't my true form either.”
Elana stood to face her guest squarely. Holding her hands away at from her sides. “If you met most of my people YOU would be running away in
fear.” Elana began twisting her arm and her fingers in ways that would break her bones if done to her, or if she were human. “Are you scared of me?” Me'gann gave no answer. “The consideration I give, I also ask for: The possibility of exceptions to the rule."
“Okay
I appreciate the sentiment but I'm not sure you understand. This isn't my natural form either.”
“I'm
EN-KARE-AN.” The Martian who had first appeared as Martin Stein
backed away a step.
"On my mother's side." Elana continued. "My father was human. Do I correctly believe that if I was entirely of my mother's people you would have a reason to...make an extra effort NOT to tick me off?"
"You believe extremely correctly. And this explains why you knew what J'onn's reaction to me would be. You know what I really look like?"
"J'onn's the last of his kind. If another of his kind existed, they wouldn't need me as an intermediary."
My
story about 'Dining on Ashes' and the rift that developed between
J'onn and Nikita originally stemmed from this hurriedly written
scene. But I lost it as soon as I'd written it. Like by the time I
wrote the whole 'Another Chapter of Time' story...well literally this
was a faded memory. I later wrote the story with Mon'el and Nikita on
a romantic getaway and it served well enough as an origin or a
'chapter one' to Dining on Ashes.. But this disguised visitor
surprising the hell out of HER host is what I had in mind, when J'onn
and Kal were commiserating and Superman consoled him counseled him
about the one time his face made sense. I stumbled upon this just
tonight, for the first time so many months after it was written. I
wasn't even sure I'd gotten it down. I wasn't looking for anything
else in particular. Just a document to paste a short conversation
from something else onto. Which is serious serendipity.
"Mon'el,
she didn't torture me."
"She
was crawling around inside your head, inside your memories!"
"No,
she was walking among them as I would walk down a cobbled street or a
hallway at the DEO. But that's just because her people are psychics.
If I could look into the mind of another I would see the
neuronal pathways of thier mind like literal pathways: streets
or corridors or something. Green and White Martians both
share that ability and they have the strong minds required to
compartmentalize and sort what they see. But she stayed in my mind
for 3 solid hours and I couldn't take it. I'm an empath, not a
telepath."
"You've
had other people inside your head?" The woman asked. I could
tell Mon'el was thinking it too.
"Well,
sort of. J'onn told me that you're people send thoughts and link
minds, share emotions, dreams...memories. So occasionally he'd look
into my mind to make sure he understood what I was trying to say. Or
so he could SEE the memory rather than rely on the description of
it. Especially when it was a memory so important to us both. Our
first meeting around the campfire and the 11 weeks leading to it was
such a time. But that only took a few minutes and he had specific
rooms he was looking for. My body simply wasn't strong enough to
handle another person's mind inside of it for such a prolonged
length of time... opening THAT many doors. So many memories
reawakening. I'm a receiver not a transmitter. I can't send
my own thoughts. Which means unlike for most humans who
experience this a door once opened can not be stepped through in
either direction. I've actually shut down the part of my mind that
would want to try."
"Then why did you..." Me'gann
seemed at a loss for words.
"If I'd said 'look in any rooms
but these' what would you have done? If I'd put any kind of a limit
on where or how long to look...the point was to be open-minded and to
show you that I didn't have secrets. Secrets profit strangers
nothing. Lies even less so. But please, I ask you once more, and
hopefully for the last time: What do you intend to do with us?"
"I
saw enough to know you're not with Henshaw. I knew you were DEO
agents and under the command of their director. I assumed you were
here looking for me. Why ARE you out in the middle of nowhere?”
"We
were heading for a place...a cabin." Mon'el responded. "We
were taking a vacation." Some color crept into his cheeks as if
he was being called out in front of an auditorium. "And I would
have proposed by the fire. J'onn gave me his blessing."
"I
imagine he was pleased when you asked his permission." Nikita
said with a smile. "J'onn is the closest thing to a father I
have here." She explained to her host. I'm 78 years old and he
takes care of me." A look of realization passed over the
Zavallen's face. "Hank Henshaw has been dead for nine years
Ma'am. J'onn J'onzz assumed his identity after...After a mission very
much like the one you thought we were on."
"Henshaw
hunted him. J'onn defeated him."
"Yeah.
I was on that mission. I still shake my head at myself for assuming
the Martian we were pursuing was...Phobos not Deimos."
"Then
Mon'el is correct. This situation is incredibly similar. And my name
is Me'gann M'orzz."
In
front of Me'gann, Mon'el takes Nikita's hand and asks
'Will
you take me as your husband?' Nikita says I do.
“My
people agree that there is a creator. We don't believe in fate so
much as providence. And our favorite thing to do is discuss our own
beliefs and conclusions about the nature of the divine being that
crated the universe. We have conferences of like-minded people, but
we don't separate ourselves by our faith. Certainly not by how we
feel we should honor our One God.” Elana looked sideways at Martin.
“All Abrahamic faiths make perfect sense to me. Their view of God
lines up perfectly with my won. But I happen to think they line up
with each-other too. To me all Islam, Christianity and Judaism are is
vastly different traditions and concepts on how to perceive or relate
to the same God of our-all of your ancestors. You shouldn't call
people stupid for thinking or even being raised differently than you.
Back home we would have gotten that.”
“I'm
sorry but, 'back home'?”
“My
mom raised me with everything she would have learned in primary or
secondary school in Teresina. It's my ancestral homeland on her side.
This also means I know how my people would have viewed or interpreted
almost anything I see here. WE all had different religions. Or
actually we didn't form religion around our spiritual beliefs. Very
different from Kryptonians or Martians, they literally all worship
the same God. Heritage and culture, well you know as well as anyone
how much the two get blurred together sometimes...And the kind of
strength that can give a culture.”
“Yes,
indeed I do.” Martin said hesitatingly.
“Sorry,
I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It's
fine, refreshing actually.”
“To
know someone who doesn't mince words but insists on being respectful
as they refuse to?”
“Well
that plus just talking about things either of us feel like talking
about.” Martin looked around nervously. “And do I assume your
shadow is still very interested in you-slash-us?”
“I
should say that whatever has given me these visions, I've learned to
trust it. That even if what I see isn't happening, I'm seeing it for
a reason. And yes, whoever was SO interested in someone like me, is
still around. But I'm not entirely sure he's not wearing a mask,
using an image in my head that's so fresh for me, having just
received and being so focused on what I saw. Also, I cannot for the
life of my fathom why I got an early-warning system about him in the
first place. What I saw is so fantastical, even by DEO standards,
it's not like I'll be able to convince anyone I'm right about him?”
“Perhaps
it was more for his sake than yours?” Martin said thoughtfully. “So
he wouldn't have as much explaining to do. Or so that someone else
will be able to consider- that is give weight and clarity to- his his
'fantastical' story?”
“So
I can clarify & confirm what he says when I do bring him in?
Trust me, he should want to come. I hope to heaven that you are right
and that he's not wearing that kind of a mask. For one he shouldn't
exist anymore than J'onn should have. So without a warning or some
kind of head's up *I* wouldn't believe this story. And *I*
wouldn't have believed it out of his or anyone's mouth.”
“Okay,
that one you are going to have to explain.”
“That
J'onn shouldn't exist? Well obviously he should exist but when the
DEO first encountered him they were wrong about what he was. I
mean...Well, you know who J'onn is right?”
“He's
a shape-shifting alien who reformed the DEO into what it is, as
opposed to under his predecessor. Also a Green Martian, a steadfast
warrior...an a man of honor by all I can tell of him.”
“Exactly,
he's a Green Martian...And he never told you that part.
Oh...crap.” Elana looked down, clearly dejected and thoroughly
displeased with herself.
“We
should get going. We should head back.”
“Yeah,
no kidding. Time to breath DEO air again...literally and
non-sarcastically.”
“You
mean you can't breath unfiltered air for long?” Marin said putting
$20 on the table. “Not a complete shot in the dark. J'onn told me
that you are not asthmatic; but the result is the same.”
“
'There's not enough air in the air'...is 10 degrees off. More like
there's too much of something else and I can't breathe -- and thereby
I can't process the 'air' of this atmosphere either. In human
physiology if oxygen bonds with sulfur you can't process oxygen. Same
for us with the... Aeon? Argon in the air. It's like breathing in
smog. It's smothering. Eventually my breathing goes shallow.
Hyp-O-ventilating essentially.”
“Adding
to the list of reasons you don't usually leave the D.E.O.”
Nikita
simply nodded.
Ten
minutes later they were in their car and heading back to the DEO.
Elana in the front passenger seat of Martin's Impala. “How much do
you know about when J'onn and Nikita first met? When the original
Hank Henshaw was still around and the impressions everyone left on
each-other?”
“Very
little I'm afraid. I know Henshaw was a close-minded jerk who saw all
aliens as potential enemies. I know Nikita had been a prisoner at the
DEO but with the help of a sympathetic agent, who means a great deal
to her she was became more of an asset than an inmate. She was in
custody but here to do a job. I know that J'onn was an alien they had
to go to the northern Canadian Rockies to find. And neither Director
Henshaw nor the other agent were said to have survived.”
“After
that mission Nikita was invited to become a full agent of the D.E.O
and J'onn took Hank's face and identity in order to reform the D.E.O.
And Superman has been 'in' on their agreement and intention since day
one. Listen, I can tell you everything Nikita told me, she wouldn't
mind it. I cannot say anything that was not contained in her story.
These will be Nikita's words and feelings. I feel that to give my
own, or anything of J'onn's story that I myself have learned, without
permission, would violate J'onn's trust.”
“Well,
okay.” And when she was done Martin was looking at her with a new
admiration. “You really are in-tuned with emotions...even those not
actually your own.”
Elana
looked at him thoroughly thrown off balance. “Of course, I'm
Enkaren.” Martin's face showed his lack of understanding. “My
people's empathic abilities are such that traumatic hypnosis would be
a thing if I were full-blooded.”
“Could
you run that by me again in elaborated English?”
“You
know how I get when I sing a song? If you have an open mind you see
it in your mind's eye as well. Or here..” She put her left hand to
the side of her own face and played an image of cool winds blowing
over fields of wildflowers. “If I were entirely of my mother's
people, that wouldn't have been in your minds eye. You would have
whole-heartedly believed you were there and never questioned it.
It would be a full-sensory, even physical experience;
indistinguishable from the ground and surroundings in which you truly
stand. Not to say it was always a weapon of war. We would use it to
calm a troubled sea or stir up a tempest. But in general using
our minds as a weapon against our enemies would be the first thing
we'd think of. That is why my people are so feared among alien races.
The only difference is that my mother never taught me to use my
abilities that way. She wasn't that kind of person. Even if I were
pure-blooded traumatic hypnosis would be a misnomer.” Elana
looked away, sadly.
“...What
happened to her?” Martin asked in a weak voice.
“Nothing
bad. She was an old woman when I was born. She died when I was in my
20's. I was 31 years old when I attacked an assailant – someone who
was beating someone else up – and ended up doing enough damage he
died from his injuries. That man turned out to be a cop. And I got
arrested being so disregardful of law and order that killing a cop
was nothing to me. If a persons position is such that wronging him is
a worse crime than wronging a civilian he should be required to
Identify himself. Maybe he was supposed to but he never declared
himself. I sure as hell didn't mean to kill him. That was the result,
not my intention. And no one could figure out how a little shrimp
like me could have caused enough damage to kill him -someone as fit
as a police detective- unless I'd knowingly or willfully use enough
force to do so. It's not like a pacifist can accidently kill a
solider, right? So I spent 15 years in a DEO cell. Wondering why I
wasn't sent to a normal prison if they didn't know I was an alien?
Turns out it was because one man did figure out what I was. And that
chances were good table-salt would burn me or I'd react to a normal
painkiller like it was a powerful sedative or even hallucinogen. At
the D.E.O. I was cared for by people who knew who I was and I met
J'onn J'onzz when he was doing his rounds. In him and then in you I
have found someone actually willing to talk to me just for the sake
of talking...All because a man like Hank Henshaw actually saw what
was going on...and no one else did.”
A
few hours later when it was time for the evening meal, Nasir joined
Almaric and a few other soldiers at their table. The meal was made up
mostly of chicken, bread and root vegetables. With mead served as
well as water. A fact which made the guest of honor smile shyly.
“What's
the matter?” Almaric inquired, sincerely concerned.
“You
know Halal that well?” Was the quick, soft answer. “Mead is the
only...celebrant, inebriate...we are allowed, after our book. More
than that...it matters to you?”
“It
is only practical to serve food that all can share.” Almaric stated
smiling. “And this isn't so different from what is normally served.
We wouldn't kill a pig for this anyway, and mead is mellow compared
to red wine.”
“I
count it as consideration. I thank you for it.” Nassir replied.
Almaric could see he thoroughly meant it.
They
sat down. Nasir had decided to say a silent prayer, with no outward
sign. Then he saw that each of them had bowed their heads for a
prayer as well, and therefore would not be put out at his own sign of
gratitude toward God. With an abbreviated prayer and a nod of thanks,
he ate.
“How
did you meet Balian?” Almaric asked him presently.
“My
former master decided to challenge the man he saw as nothing but a
lost peasant for possession of his horse.” The Saracen replied
almost at once. He slowed his words as he continued. “Mummad Al
Fais was on horse charging Balian on foot. When Balian declared
himself the Baron of Ibelin, it was only right to even the playing
field. My master, my old friend, soon lost that skirmish.”
At
the end of a personal conversation about the earliest memories of her
life, Sasha starts acting out motions to a play, singing 'Good King
Wenceslas', facing North when her friend is standing East. It's
something Merlin has never seen in her before. He didn't know she had
such a wellspring of knowledge, of memory. It wasn't drama, it wasn't
art or theater. It was a hidden memory not a hidden talent and he got
that. She smiles at him, warmly, appreciatively, even though he
literally said nothing and made no outward sign. She explains her
smile and her song by that statement. What happens next in the
conversation?
After
effusively defending the alien menace she's harboring, Sasha Jordan
Scott turns to 'Joe'
“That
wasn't posturing you know, I was serious. I trust you a lot more than
I trust him. He is breaking our laws coming into a private residence
without permission, searching the place without prob--a reason to
think something illegal is going on. Also I know enough about you to
trust you. You are both a guest in my house and my responsibility. I
will do everything in my power to keep you safe. No one with a brain
in their skull insults a friend of mine in my house."
“Do
you remember how__ you became who you are now? Do you remember
how___it felt to breathe without gasping
With
all your might?”
“What
does that mean?” Superman asked.
Once
I realized he was asking me not her I answered. “She was repeating
something earlier, a chant or a song. It seemed like she was trying
to tell us something important. And she is. This lyric must have
something...You can breathe but the air is too thin for you. It hurts
to talk...because you run out of air?”
Not
thin__Contaminated.
Superman
looked like someone had just slapped him in the head with a 2x4 made
of lead. “There is something in our air that literally hurts you.
You gag on our atmosphere. Which is why we can't hear you, or they
can't. But why would that...” She held up her hand to say 'wait'
and started writing again.
The
resonance of my voice with your air. The 'air' resonates differently
with my vocal cords. You
can
hear me...kryptonian powers here on Earth. But while not my native
state, in these conditions my voice is subsonic...Or might as well
be. Yet giving others super-hearing isn't the only answer.
"And
for her people, for Enkarens that was very A-typical. They were
warriors born. Not aggressive, not tyrannical by any means, but
fighters all the same." She looked over to her friend. "Like
I told you Martin. My abilities being weaker, my emotions being
diluted and not in pure form, is the result of my mixed heritage.
That I actually have control over my 'quick temper' and why my 'hot
blood' is never very explosive...that's because my mother raised me
right." Elana blushed. "Well, it's because she raised me as
she did. In a way most Enkarens wouldn't consider to be right and
natural thinking. And in a style, with a set of values most
races who've even heard of us wouldn't think of as 'Enkaren'.
Elana
stares hard and Querl Dox. A moment alter she shakes her head.
"Director, Nikita would be a better help to you than I. And not
just because my head is full of air right now."
J'onn looked at his friend with sympathy. "You should go to
your quarters and lie down."
Querl
Dox looked with concern as Martin took Elana by the arm and
half-guided, half carried her to the room that served as Elana's
quarters at the D.E.O. "I am afraid I do not understand is
she...ill?"
J'onn
Jo'nzz glanced back at the visitor. "Do you know enough about
Enkaren physiology to know why the air itself is slightly toxic to
them?"
"Enkarens
would use an argon gas chamber to execute criminals." Querl said
immediately. "The amount of Argon in Earth's atmosphere would
make them feel like they were breathing in smog...And the air
filtration systems here at the D.E.O would allow her to breathe what
would be for her 'pure air'. without any apparatus."
"You
really do know a lot about practically everything."
I
realize Elana introduced me to you as Querl Dox. But I would actually
prefer to be addressed by my designation, Brainiac-5. My friends just
call me 'Brainy'."
"Not
close to your family?"
"A
less formal name implies a familiarity I find...comforting. And for
my people calling one by there individual name is...actually setting
them apart from the rest of thier family."
"You're
related to Indigo." J'onn realized quickly. "How is that
possible."
