Calvin Harris Becomes Superman

Calvin Harris 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 Calvin 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 jail was run by Kryptonians so he has some kind of a point but, 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.” Calvin looked away, dejected.  “It is fair; I do not question the judgment. But I could wish they'd tell me for what new crime I've been 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 and casually explained 'Nomatar' means 'nameless'.

“Under what authority do you execute him?”

“Under my own authority you simple-minded-twit. 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 wherefore I have been imprisoned... or at least where?”

“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've 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 the guard knows how demoralizing it is that even my name is taken from me. Laserites - that was Octavius people - 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 reconsider your current course of action. I will shoot, if I have to.”

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

“I am a man of peace. But farmers 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. I say again: Stand down.” The guard dropped his hands. Narek did lowered his gun but did not take his attention off of the guard. 

“Why did you give me the name Anton?”

“It means 'Solider of Duty'. It seemed to fit.”

“That it does. And in keeping with the laws and traditions I was sworn to uphold, I surrender myself to justice.” He turned to Calvin. "If you were about to kill me, I would kneel and accept my fate. But you are not about to, are you?"

“You're right, I won't. However, I will find the most isolated cell in this prison you're so fond of and lock you into it for the rest of your mortal life."

“The fourth sub-level on the twilight side.” The guard replied easily. 

Kal-el looked at Narek for an explanation

“It's for prisoners who would think about what they've done. The twilight side is called that -twilight because the lighting there simulates perpetual twilight. It lends itself to calm thinking and solitary reflection.”

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

“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 neither the guard nor Narek had had any reason to think he was anything other than human. This prison had once been run by Kryptonians. Which is why Anton had surrendered so willingly. To the straight-forward mind of the guard, Kryptonians were in charge of their own prison.

Calvin looked with soft eyes as Narek stood there, patiently waiting for him to go on. Waiting for an answer to his question. “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-El's hands in his own. “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 that doesn't seem to...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 strange to you than to other Earthlings.

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. Or the question itself for that matter. I was raised here on Earth. I don't know my 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 by committing another Kal-El. I meant it when I said I've accepted the justice of my sentence. But I stole a sum equal to almost a year's pay. There are those who got my sentence for stealing furniture from 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. If I have anything to say about it, this will be what the house of El is remembered for.”

Gathering Honey from a Weed

The conclusion to a four part story of mine which began with a scene I called 'Dining on Ashes'. The scene described by these character STILL has yet to be written. When it is, Earth-21's story will Finally be complete.

Gathering Honey from a Weed

“Oh my God I just realized how stupid I was being!”

It was the absolute last thing I expected to hear out of Nikita's mouth. I'd spent almost an hour talking with her about what had happened between her and J'onn and why.

“I was this close to making some sarcastic comment about being an empath not a telepath. And for once the point wouldn't have been that I wasn't a mind-reader. My people, like Enkarens are constant low level empaths. But we don't read emotions we receive them, like no matter what. I wouldn't say it's very good as a lie detector but we can actually sense ignorance and innocence. And in that moment, in my apartment Me'gann was innocent and J'onn had his head so far up his ass. I'm sorry but he did.”

That's when whatever the light-bulb was went off in her head.

“How he reacted to Me'gann is perfectly understandable. I've been asking myself how he could suddenly forget who I was, and think I would go along with it. In that moment, looking at me he actually reminded me of Hank. Not because of the hate in his eyes but because of the single-mindedness, close-minded and hard. He just wasn't thinking straight. I keep saying his reaction to Me'gann, his belief about her was understandable. But that's all this ever was, a reaction to having Me'gann in the room. Hell, given what they are to him I can't say I blame him!”

I didn't know what to say, so I just waited. I knew she didn't need prompting, just a breath.

“Me'gann's people are...what Hank and I thought J'onn was when we met him. You remember about White Martians and Green Martians, right?” I nodded. “What I never had the chance to tell you, is that if J'onn had been the kind of person he is, but looked like Me'gann, I would have had trouble seeing it. Seeing him for who he really is.  Even without my personal experience, I would have assumed the worst of him. The White Martian I met was a dick. But White Martians are horrible. I would actually call them monsters. They are known in the galaxies as mindless, aggressive, one-would-say militaristic-except-they-don't-have-discipline, monsters. But to J'onn's people they're something worse. They are more like...Demons.”

I was starting to catch on. “So the idea of a White Martian you would actively defend, was hard wrap his head around. And taking her part was hard to swallow. He must have felt...betrayed.”

“He didn't forget what I was or our history together. He must have thought I had betrayed that history! I mean don't get me wrong. I still stand by the whole 'She's a guest in my house and you have no right to take her from under my roof' part.”

“Can't argue with you there.”

"I just kind of have trouble with the thought I was so busy being hurt he pulled a Jekyll and Hyde to realize it actually made sense!"

“Do you truly believe she's different?” I asked her in a low voice.

Nikita raised an eyebrow, sat up straighter than I'd ever seen her and set her face. “Me'gann is as different from her people as Lena Luthor is from her family. She's not only different, she's worth it. And I don't just believe that. I know it. Which was kind of my entire point.” She looked over at me, almost inquisitively. I didn't say a word. “And you weren't asking that for yourself, were you?” I shook my head. She turned to the front door.

J'onn was standing at the doorway.

"Nikita, as always you are too quick to blame yourself." J'onn said warmly.

"I...will you please explain that?"

I chuckled a little bit at the irony. "Can I field that one?" J'onn nodded solemnly.  "I've had a lot of time over the past 8 years to miss you, and to regret not having the chance to get to know you," I said pointing to Nikita and then to J'onn. "But one thing that stands out when I look back on the day we met is that you weren't just absorbing the blame to keep it off my shoulders. You actually blamed yourself for making such a baseless assumption about him just because of what you believed about White Martians. Even though that belief wasn't baseless. And now here you are again, absorbing fault that doesn't actually belong to you. Nikita, you were Hank's prisoner for six years. Even at the end when you didn't live in a cell, you were his prisoner. But you never had a problem with J'onn wearing Hank's face until he actually lived up to it. And I'm sorry but I have to ask...was she right?"

J'onn sighed deeply and looked down. He wasn't particularly on edge, just kind of pondering his answer. "Obviously I didn't know him like you did. But he seems to have been nothing if not a blind, militaristic idiot. Someone who couldn't see past his own preconceptions -what he knew as certainties- to see the goodness in a person. If is what the two of you see when you remember him. then yes, I lived up to his name." he looked up, with a fierceness I'd never noticed before. "And Nikita, you were right to call me out on it!" Nikita looked like she couldn't believe her ears. "I came into your home to take someone away just because I had a problem with them. But not even with them, with thier species. I treated them like a criminal because of thier race. You were right that is NOT what we do here anymore..." He looked at me, helplessly.

"It is however what Hank would have done when he was director, without a second thought." I said. "Hell it's what he did as director...to you. Nikita, I don't imagine you've had much occasion to talk about your time in the D.E.O before Hank saw you for who you truly were. I imagine it would have been too painful to talk about. And before I came back it would have been too sad...reminded you too much of me. But I'm telling you now, your reaction to a reawakening of those feelings makes perfect freaking sense: You were having your own memory flashbacks!

So I have both scenes that would have led to Nikita nearly kicking J'onn out of her apartment. I have J'onn and Superman talking over what the heck happened between himself Nikita and the White Martian named Me'gann Mor'zz. And Jeremiah Danvers talking the same thing over with Nikita in her apartment a few days later. But I don't think I ever typed up the original confrontation. Where J'onn tried to forcibly remove that White Martian from Nikita's apartment and didn't understand why she would defend 'that thing'.  Nikita's attitude was basically "I know what her people are. I also know who she is and for me, that wins out." One thing I don't think was touched on in either of the conversations where the characters commiserate about what happened, even being around White Martians physically hurts Xavallens. Yet it was J'onn's behavior; his attitude and prejudices, his rage and arrogance that were giving Nikita headaches. Which is why Nikita compared him to the ignorant arrogant asshole that was Hank Henshaw who's face he wears. Henshaw being a man who once tried to execute J'onn on the spot for being a monster. And was directly, though unintentionally the reason J'onn met Jeremiah Danvers, Nikita and even Superman at all.

I will eventually fill in what was missing, which happens to be the meat of this sandwich. But this was the basic of it, beyond what we already know.

The last thing Nikita told J'onn was: I understand if you don't want me at the D.E.O. anymore. If you want me to, I'll leave. But this isn't the DEO. This is my home and my home is a sanctuary. I am pretty close to just asking you to leave us alone. And I literally mean that. I don't want to sever connections with you, or say anything I won't be able to take back when I've calmed down. And don't make me ask you to leave."

Nikita is on deaths door. Elana and Nikita are of similar empathic races. They are the most open-minded and human looking aliens anyone at the D.E.O. have ever met. Which is why it made sense to everyone that Elana could easily 'sync up' with Nikita and bring her back from the brink. "It would require someone both compatible and in sync with her to pull her back from death. I'm compatible; I'm not in sync!" She looks around and takes it by a different handle. "It would require someone who has been with her for at least six years day in day out and  is on the same wavelength as her. I'm on the same wave-length. But she and I are practically strangers."
In other words, despite the fact that they agree with each-other on 95% of everything, they have never actually spent any time together. It has to be someone who is BOTH."

"Could I do it?" J'onn asks in a voice barely above a whisper.
"I...I believe so." Elana replied thoughtfully. "The two of you have always been so in-step... and you've known her longer than anyone."

Several days later Nikita is at her apartment, watching a Cinderella musical when J'onn knocks on her door. She waves him in, finishes whatever she was whispering to herself about and  invites him to sit down with her and watch the movie. The instant he sits down, she stands up.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"What are you drinking?"

"It's a kind of seltzer, apparently mildly alcoholic." J'onn give her a 'why do you say it like that' look. "I've never known anything that is not alcoholic to calm both my nerves and my stomach like this. Here, let me pour you a glass." She pours him more of the seltzer into a glass identical to her own. "Chet na-she Hezikiah Nest-Za Ki." She says raising her glass in a toast. She brings the glass up to the side of her face before drinking. "Alah Ka-tiya Kian-em."
 A traditional toast in her own language which translates loosely as "To life friends and family...To God whoever that may be." 
J'onn actually blushes. "I'm sorry I, wasn't sure you recognized me."
"I know what is familiar to me J'onn." She replied with a small laugh. "Although I have to admit I'm not always sure why. Why does Jeremiah act like he's afraid of me?"
"It's a caution stemming from concern, not apprehension." J'onn said automatically. His face grew a look of regret. “You know how much we both care for you right?” Nikita nodded. “I'm hoping you and I can talk about something we have been dancing around for a long time.”
Nikita sat herself down on her couch. "Yeah what is that about anyway? Seriously J'onn, what happened between us? I feel like apologizing to you for something. But I also feel like grabbing you by the collar and trying to shake some sense into you. Which makes no freaking sense!"
"I underestimated you and scared you off in the same stroke."
“J'onn I am asking you to be direct exact and forthright. It shouldn't be hard for you.”
“Do you recognize the name 'Hank Henshaw'?"
A dark look cast over Nikita's eyes. "Only that he was a jerk who took Jeremiah away from his family.  I didn't have anyone to miss me when he locked me away. He must be dead now, long dead because I try to picture him and all I see is you."
"That might be because I am wearing his face. Hank was...well I met you and Jeremiah for the first time when you both served under him. Your word for him was Creech-ta. It Fits."
"...It would have to; I wouldn't use it otherwise." Nikita said offhandedly.
"Something did happen between us. You said I was appropriately wearing Hank's face. That I reminded you of him. You were right. I stepped into Hank's shoes in a MAJOR way. His attitude, his bull-headedness, and quite possibly his arrogance. If there is one thing Jeremiah, you and I know about Henshaw  it's that we hated his tendency of jumping to the worst conclusions about someone who is practically a stranger, just because of their race. Which is exactly what I was doing and you rightly called me on it. But you didn't break faith with me over it.”
"You didn't know how unnervingly I hold to my own convictions?"
"I think you mean unswervingly, and no I didn't. But even that isn't all of it. For the last several months I've been keeping my distance from you...admiring you from a distance actually. You're a better human being than I ever realized. Which may sound ironic, but for us it's true." Nikita cocks her head sideways. "What?"
"Weird choice of word sequence is all. And you are a very deliberate person so I imagine it was meant to indicate something specific. It wasn't just for the sake of being different?"
"That was me acknowledging both that we know you're Zavallen and that we still call you a human being. For us it doesn't matter.” J'onn looked intently into Nikita's face with a warmth and admiration that would make you envy the recipient. “We've been working together, professionally but avoiding each-other in a way that...probably wasn't very comfortable for either of us. I've been trying to find a way to tell you that you were right. But something...uncertain was going on. There was some pain in your face I hadn't seen there before. And until I knew where it came from, and what part I had in putting it there, I didn't want to, 'stick my foot any father down my throat'."
" 'In your mouth', I believe is the proper expression. At least you're aware of what happened. And you're being honorable about it: Giving me space without playing the blame game. What I mean is you're being selfless. You're not demanding an apology or an explanation, but giving one. And you recognize the part you had to play in what happened between us. In my experience, that's pretty rare."
" 'In your experience'.” J'onn said thoughtfully. “It occurs to me I know very little about your life before I met you. Or at least, before you ended up here the first time.”

“I shall assume you mean the D.E.O.” J'onn nodded. “Well, there's not much to say. I spent 19 years on my home planet, 38 years in the Western Hemisphere of this one. 12 years living rough with the salt of the Earth in the geographic intersection of the world; Southwest Asia. I was learning Farsi and Arabic so I could speak as one of them. I came back to the United States, got captured as a criminal and treated as if I had been running away from justice or the law the entire time I'd lived on your planet. No one had noticed me so they assumed I had been hiding my presence. It was pretty messed up. I don't even know how long after Jeremiah joined the D.E.O and life became bearable again. 5 years later. I assume you know that part of the story."
J'onn nodded sagely. "You stood up for Jeremiah even when you wouldn't stand up for yourself. Because of that, Henshaw decided you could work for the DEO and make a difference, instead of living there as a prisoner in one of their cells. Wait...you were a prisoner for more than 5 years?"
"Of course!" Nikita said as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Hank didn't take a particular interest in me until Jeremiah came. I only look back as far as when Jeremiah joined up because that's where our story, yours and mine I mean even begins but that's not the same thing. Are you feeling alright? J'onn I am asking as formally as I know how, to be direct exact and forthright. Which if I know you at all, shouldn't be hard for you.”
“Do you recognize the name 'Hank Henshaw'?"
A dark look cast over Nikita's eyes. "Only as a complete jerk who tried to keep Jeremiah away from his family. And when I was here initially he 'didn't like me very much'. I am being polite. He must be dead now, long dead because I try to picture him and all I see is you."
"That might be because I am wearing his face. I met you and Jeremiah for the first time when you both served under Henshaw. Your word for him was Creech-ta. And it fits.”
"...It would have to; I wouldn't use it otherwise." Nikita said offhandedly. She hesitated briefly. “J'onn, what happened between us?”

“Why do you ask? Standing where you are, what inspires the question?”

“J'onn, you are my best friend in the entire universe I KNOW this. But I'm alternating between wanting to apologize to you and wanting to grab you by the neck and shake some sense into you. Which makes no freaking sense.”

“She's broken.” Superman said to Director Henshaw in an undertone.

“Respectfully, you don't know what she's been through. She's stronger than you think.”

Superman actually turned to look at the human solider. Understanding flickered across his face a moment later. “that's not what I mean. I scanned her with X-ray vision. Her bones aren't old they're Bro-ken.”

“You're trying to tell me that...You can't be right.”

“Oh and you're honestly trying to tell me you didn't....” Superman closed his mouth when he saw the flabbergasted look on the director's face. “You really didn't know?”

“She told me her people live an average of 120 years and I knew she was at least 70. I didn't know. Superman I don't know whether to yell at you or thank you right now. I'll settle for asking you to either return to your temporary quarters or leave the facility.”

“My dad should be back soon. I'll go to my quarters.”

“Very well.” He waved a hand at an agent who was standing nearby. “Qǐng dài tā dào tā de zhùchù.” Which loosely translated to 'show him to his quarters please.”

Superman tried to keep the look of shock off his face; and did not succeed. “I may have seriously underestimated you Director.”

“Now you know how it feels.”

A few minutes later when Jeremiah Danvers clocked out of his shift the first place he stopped was at Superman's temporary quarters. He hadn't knocked before Superman got to his feet. “Jeremiah. It is SO good to see you.” Superman said embracing his father in a bear hug.

“I'm glad to see you too son. But something's up isn't it?"

“I...had a question to ask you about Nikita.”

“In fairness to a mutual friend don't you think you should ask her first?”

“Not that kind of question dad. I was wondering how old she was. And if you knew whether she was ill.”

“She's lived on Earth more than 50 years and was 20 years old when she landed. But ill, I couldn't say. She wouldn't necessarily tell me if she were. Why?”

“Hank Henshaw just reintroduced us. I scanned her as she walked away. I told Hank that her bones aren't old they're broken. And he looked at me with exactly the same look you have on your face right now. Perhaps even more shocked. I didn't understand it.”

“Tell me what you saw. And what you mean.”

Superman described old bones, fractured almost to the point that every step would be painful for the individual. And is initial assertion that Hank Henshaw himself had been responsible for this damage...before his extremely sincere redemption. An opinion that had changed when he saw 'an expression on Hanks face that looked like death warmed over.' Jeremiah put his hand in front of his mouth in a thoughtful pose.

“Elias. Henshaw was a jerk back in the day, but he was a law abiding jerk. He had a sense of restraint. There is no way he would have done anything to cause that kind of damage to her system. And I'd hate to say it but this explains a lot.”

“Okay, explain, please.”

“After I'd served here for about 2 years I asked Hank why Nikita was considered an enemy alien. She certainly had not done anything since I'd joined to earn that classification. He replied simply 'because those are my orders'. As if it should be enough for me that he'd decided this. Or at least that's what I thought at the time. Perhaps those were orders he had been given which he'd accepted with the straight-forward simplicity of a solider.”

“Orders he'd received from the former commander of this...organization.”

“Hank was as by the book military as you can get. He never would have questioned the orders of a direct superior.”

“In the six years they've been working together Nikita never brought it up?”

“Elias are you kidding? What good would it do for Hank to know that the man he'd served under, and quite possibly his predecessor used such excessive force against an alien that he literally broke her bones? Something I have learned since coming back here, she would never do anything to make it harder for Hank to believe in himself. I mean I always knew Nikita was staying quiet about something for Hank's sake but it never occurred to me...”

“You never considered she was staying quiet from me for my sake.” Hank Henshaw said from the doorway. His stocky, muscular form slightly betraying the emotion written on his face.

“I'm sorry Hank, I should have realized...” Jeremiah began.

“No, it's alright. I just wish we'd found out a different way. But she wouldn't have said anything anyway You know how she is Ag...” Hank stopped himself from saying 'agent Danvers' and looked at his hands. “She wouldn't have wanted to give the appearance of not being up to the task. For anyone to question her capabilities, even stemmed from concern and not doubt...”

“Oh, that I remember.” Superman said fondly.

“What do you mean?” Jeremiah replied.

“Infernians make her sick, like physically sick. One went on holiday in Basset Park. It gave her a kind of seizure. Not deliberately; even being around the thing gave her a seizure. But when she was in the infirmary all she could think about was how she 'let that thing get away'.”

“She literally did.” Hank clarified. “She told it to leave because Superman was coming. But she was more concerned with duty than her own safety. It was... enlightening is the only word I can think of.”

“I never actually knew her very well. But I can't say I'm surprised. You want to know something strange?” Superman and Hank Henshaw both nodded. “The entire reason I came back when I did is because Elana Morris and her friend found Arias. Elana told me Nikita was at your side as an ally. She said she trusted that Nikita genuinely believed in you for the simple reason that Xavallens don't tend to lie without a damn good reason. And when I heard that, I decided I wanted to come back, if only for a couple of days. I wanted to see her again, to see how she was doing. And J'onn...released me of my obligation.”

“It occurs to me I know very little about your life while you were gone.”

“You are asking without asking what J'onn did to me' while I was with him?”

“...And what obligation he freed you from.” Elias interjected.

“I promised him that if he let you go home, then I would stay with him. And I did. I wasn't his prisoner, a captive perhaps in that I wasn't allowed to leave. But he did not mistreat me. We were friends. Sarrin's original words on the matter could not have been more true. I can move freely about the premises as long as I did not try to leave the premises. When I asked J'onn for permission to come back here, just for a couple of days to see if Nikita was sincerely behind you or simply playing a part, he released me of my original oath.”

“You were true friends.” Hank said slowly.

“It was weird thinking of someone who was technically my jailer as a friend, but yes, we were. Tell the truth...I miss him. I always will. But home for him is wherever Sarrin is. Home for me is with my son and working with Nikita.”

“Is that you asking to return to duty at the D.E.O.?” Elias asked his father.

“It's me offering to, if he wants me.”

Zod and Tal With Honor

It was apparently a fairly new revelation for Tal Rho himself. To learn he'd had a brother on Earth for 25 years and had never been told of his existence had seemed incredible. The one thing Kal-El could be certain of as he followed his brother to his fortress was the sincerity of his feelings. Acting out for being slighted was not Tal-Rho's style. It had undoubtedly pissed the man off when he'd refused his pleas of 'join me, of your own free will'. As a result Tal had forced his hand. Other than in the broadest of strokes, Clark could not even guess his brother's intentions.

The first thing Tal-Rho did when they arrived inside his fortress was to command Kal-El to remove the 'chosen one' symbol from his torso__and his shirt along with it. Kal-El sat on the ground and tore his uniform at the waist. Pulling the now loose cloth over his head, in this way he obeyed his brother. He straightened his back but did not stand up. Tal took a spire of Kryptonite and literally bound it to his brothers chest. “You'll get used to it eventually Ka-rean.” Tal said, stepping away slowly.

“Ka-rean, 'small one'. I should have expected that. If this is to make me compliant, it is not necessary brother. I wouldn't run from you if I hadn't just sworn to obey you.”

Tal Rho walked in a tight circle around his brother, gesturing with his hands as he went. “If you're worried about this crystal ending your life, don't be. It's not pure Kryptonite. Rather a graft of Nth metal infused with the radioactive substance which bears that name. And you will live a long life under its influence. The question Kal-El, is what are we to do with you? Kal-El is your true name, and probably the one thing I can still recognize in you. It's a twist of irony really. The last son of the noble and most ancient house of El, brought to heel by a discarded bastard. It is an irony I will enjoy in the days to come.”

“You're not nearly as callous as you present yourself to be Tal.” Kal-El said with a firm jaw. “And you were never rejected. Not by our mother. And not by me.”

“What do you call joining with the humans rather than your own people?!” Tal barked.

“I call it choosing to protect humanity as I have always done. Replacing humans with Kryptonian minds, that is something I can never agree to. I will stand against any such plan if I have the choice. But I have not rejected YOU. And I never will.”

Strangely enough, Tal-Rho seemed genuinely pleased by this. He waved his hand over the spire of infused kryptonite. “Pretty soon I'll take that off. Pretty soon your word will be all I need. But until then, this stays on. And you stay down.”

“I don't understand why you're even doing this.”

“I need you weak enough that you can't interfere with our plans.”

“...OUR plans?”

It turned out the one thing Tal-Rho was interested in was parading his defeated brother in front of the living memory of his father. One fo the first things Tal did was strip off his shirt and literally tie a spire of Kryptonite to his chest. “You'll get used to it Ka-rean, trust me.”

“Ka-rean: Small one. I should have expected that. If this is to make me compliant, it is unnecessary. You know this amount of Kryptonite will kill me before it breaks me.”

“It is not Kryptonite brother, merely infused with the radioactive substance which bears that name. And you will live a long life under its influence. But doing what is the question.” Tal Rho turned in a circle, his hands out and open. “Well Kal-El, what are we to do with you? That's right, I'm going to call you by your Krypto0nian name. It is your true identity after all. The one you so readily rejected. It's a twist of irony isn't it? The last son of the noble and most ancient house of El, brought to heel by the discarded bastard son. I will enjoy that reversal very much. Almost as much as hearing you call me 'master' on a regular basis.”

“I will never call you 'master'.” Kal-El said defiantly. “'Sir', 'Milord' or even 'great one'. But I will never call you 'master'.”

“Then I suppose 'great one' will have to suffice.” Tal-Rho replied genuinely pleased.

Kal-El moved to within 20 paces of Zod. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head over them. “I implore you General, do not make her suffer for my mistakes. Enforce your will upon me alone.” Struck by a thought, he raised his head. “What is it you want?”

“Your submission and complete surrender.”

Kal-El placed his hands on the floor in front of him, his palms flat, fingers spread wide apart. He lowered his head until he could almost touch to floor with his face. “I submit. I'll do whatever you ask Zod. I swear it on my heat. But I beg of you, let her go.”

“GENERAL Zod, you worm.” A female solider barked at him.

“Yes, General Zod, of course.” Kal-El corrected himself, not looking up.

“Why do you humiliate yourself for her?” The General questioned firmly. “Look up and answer me. What is so special about her that you humiliate yourself so completely on the mere hope that I will show her mercy?”

“General, let me save her. Let me bring her home. You can do what you wish to me.”

“ 'Bring her home.'“ The general echoed. “She's your daughter.”

“Please.” Superman cried, unconsciously jumping to his feet. “I'll do whatever you ask, just leave my wife and daughter alone.”

“Agreed Kal.” Kal-El glided toward his daughter and lifted her from the pit. As he laid her on the shore, he looked up to see the general gazing down. Zod's face betrayed no emotion as he placed his hand on the woman's left rib-cage, feeling her pulse.

“She'll be alright, in a few hours.”

“Will you let me take her home?”

“Of course Kal. But I'm coming with you.”

“I expected nothing else.” The hero remarked, his easy tone disguising the unease in his heart. Jor-El's living memory had indicated General Zod was a man of honor, if heartless by human standards. His own experience proved the man was only concerned with the future of his species, not his own ego.

Lois was out in the driveway when they landed. “What is going on? Who is this?”

Clark laid his daughter gently in the grass. “This is General Zod. I have to leave with him.”

“I don't understand.”

“That's not surprising.” The general quipped with through sarcasm.

Clark swallowed the urge to glare at Zod. Instead he threw his arms around Lois. “You and Aisha are safe. That's all that matters. Take care of each-other. I love you both.”

“It's time to go Kal-El.” Superman pulled himself away from his wife and walked toward the general with the mien of someone going to a funeral. “I'm ready.” They took to the skies together. In a few minutes they arrived in the Atari mountains. There was a pitch hut nearby. Shaped like a log cabin but made out of straw and tar. The General said nothing, apparently expecting Kal to make the first overture. Kal-El dropped to one knee, arms stretched away from his torso, palms up. Looking not unlike a highland Scotsman begging forgiveness. “I am yours. For the rest of my life.”

“Good. Now get up off the floor and talk to me like a Kryptonian.”

It was only then Kal-El realized making him a slave had never been part of Zod's plans. Complete surrender had been exactly that 'I will fight no more' not 'I place my head under your foot'. Which, when he thought about it, he should have known that. For one, it was unworthy of a solider to so humiliate a defeated opponent and General Zod had proven himself not just a military leader but a true soldier. He was also Krypton's military leader and did everything for the survival and well-being of his species. Kal-El was in his eyes a fellow Kryptonian that he did not want to have to fight on the battlefield. His inaction had been assured and that was that. Zod had nothing against him personally.

"I will fight no more, forever."

"I'm sorry?" Zod replied, turning to him.

"You wanted me out of your way, not...on my face before you."

"Of course Kal. There is no reason for you to bend your back to me. Your father was my greatest friend. I will not dishonor his memory by demoralizing you."

"I apologize for my assumption."

How This Earth Got its Name

 Why people on Earth 42 are the extreme of themselves.

The Beginning of Greatness

THIS part is narrated by Nikita:

“Jeremiah, are you there?”

“Behind you.” He answered. We were tied back to back. “Are you alright?”

“Head's a little spinny. But I'm okay.”

“Solente Karesh-Esai.”

I heard a voice, but couldn't see anyone. I saw we were in a basement. And someone was watching us. “Whoever you are, please let us see you. Don't make me talk to darkness.” Nothing changed. “No Sonto ni-sakara Nesta- Zaki. Please, whoever you are, let me see your face.” A tall, thin man stood from the shadows to my left. His sloped skull and tinted green skin reminded me of nothing so much as an orchard of lime trees. “Thank you. I don't know what else to say.”

“Who...Who are you?” His voice sounded like he had long since lost the habit of using it. He looked from Jeremiah to me and back.

“My name is Jeremiah.” He stated with the slightest insistence in his voice.

“My name is Nikita. I suppose it would be naive of me to ask your name.” The man simply crouched down and stared at me. “Among my people it is extremely rude not to introduce yourself, even among enemies.”

“I am not of your people.” The man replied.

“Fair enough.” Jeremiah answered. I drifted off to sleep soon after.

When I woke up there was only gray light in the high windows, a sign we were in a basement. Jeremiah was still tied up behind me. I looked around.

“He's not here.”

“He is...do you think this is his home?”

“Perhaps. But I doubt trespassing was our transgression.”

“Jeremiah whatever happens, do not lie to him.”

“Heh. Only you could be concerned about such a thing.”

“In some alien cultures lying about having committed a murder is a more repulsive act than having taken another life. Breaking your word is as serious a violation as having taken a life for at least possibly justifiable reasons. I am 96% certain our host is of such a kind.”

The man approached from the stairs to my left holding a small bowl of water out to me. “My friend first.” I told him and turned my head away. The man took the bowl to Jeremiah. And then brought it back to me.

“It's a kind of meso soup.” Jeremiah noted aloud.

“I've made plenty more.” Our host said before turning around to leave.

I could sense Jeremiah wanting to ask me a question. “I don't need much anymore. My body has trained itself to survive on little. Besides, he needs to see that you're worth it__to me.”

The man did not return until there was no longer light coming through the windows. “Listen, I'm certain you can understand me, you can trust my words. You don't need to keep us restrained like this in order to keep us here. So why do you?”

“In case I was a fighter. In case either of us resisted.” Jeremiah answered me.

The man nodded his agreement.

“I just want to see Jeremiahs face. I want to be able to look you both in the face when we talk. You can keep our hands tied I just want to be able to use my legs. Even the D.E.O allowed me that. If we're going to...” I had been about to say 'going to trust each-other, show this sign of trust'. But I suddenly felt that our host had long since forgotten what it felt like to trust some one else. “If you want to see who we are – what choice we would make – give us the ability to make a choice. Give Jeremiah his hands. He'll show you where his loyalties lie. Or rather where they do NOT sit.” As if on impulse the man cut Jeremiah and I free from each-other. A moment later he the bonds around Jeremiah's wrist. Jeremiah stood, and tore the D.E.O. emblem off his shirtsleeve.

Narrated by Jeremiah:

The alien would feed us, ask a few rather simple questions and then leave. He never did anything more TO me than shove me against a wall or punch me in the chest when I was 'being implacable'. He actually, well, took care of us. I was having trouble making heads or tails of him. Nikita it seemed was having similar difficulties.

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

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

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

“How do you read him? I mean I know you can, a lot better than most.”

“I'm not a telepath, I sense motivations, intentions and any strong feelings. That's it.”

His motivation is what I'm trying to figure out. For holding us prisoner three weeks and running he doesn't seem particularly interested in us.”

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

Just after sunrise the next morning their alien keeper came in, face set like flint.

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

I stood in front of Nikita. “Leave her alone.” The man raised his hand, as if to backhand me, but thought the better of it at the last instant. “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?”

“I would not. But I know you're going to. Nikita was right if you wanted either one of us dead we'd BE dead by now. What you want from either of us is answers.”

“Yes. And it's time I get them.” He grabbed Nikita by the wrist. I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away. He looked at me surprised. “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 thoughts flashed across my mind and were probably all over my face. I held out my 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 a month by now we've been civil with each-other, though exceedingly impatient. A friend of mine told me even enemies can give each-other compliments. We've lived that, so far. But this is something I cannot...If you hurt her, my restraint will go right out the window. I will probably die trying to take you down. But if you let her go, I swear on my life you can do whatever you want to me__in payment of that debt.”

This speech did not have quite the effect I intended. The green-skinned alien actually backed away from us and cast down his eyes. “You, care for her?” He whispered.

“This surprises you?”

“Yes. What IS she to you? I mean...who is she to you?”

“Someone who has been tortured for years by a man far more blind than I have words to express. A man I served under for years and at one time looked up to. And I would die before I let her come to harm again. If there is one truth of which I need no convincing it is that she is innocent. And she is precious to me. You are not so blind as Hank and yet you are, I cannot understand it. Please, she has been through enough, let her alone.”

“Among my people not to introduce yourself is extremely rude, even among enemies. 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 a balm to the conversation.

“I do not understand.”

“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. The only emotion to come through was...regret. “You've learned I'm not Enkaren. And not the threat you feared. You must have thought HE was one. Why? OR are you Phobos?”

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

“I know who they are. I don't know which is which. That was the problem. '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 learnt that from an Enkaren woman I once knew. I understood Phobos and Deimos were like Ishmael and Issac from the Bible. 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. I've never met your kind before in my life. The White Martian I met was...Hank's favorite example of how dangerous aliens are. She'd been in that cell for over a decade when I met her. No one could hold completely to their own identity 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 if you had known I belonged to Deimos... you would have...”

“ 'Deimos Pah, Tar-ek Ni-cha.' As I almost said aloud 3 days ago.”

“Phobos and Deimos are the progenitors of the Martian races. 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 should be there, but wasn't. “Are you Xavallen?” He asked nonplussed.

“Why should that be of particular interest to you?”

The alien bowed himself at the waist 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. You might owe Jeremiah an apology for so completely misjudging him but you owe me nothing.

“Okay, I'm officially lost. And I don't mind admitting it.”

“No less so than I.” Nikita intoned.

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

“My parents taught me more about Enkarens, Brevaks, Zyerilians and such than they did about our own race. That's why I left. There was a coming of age ceremony 2 years before I became a legal independent adult on my planet. But I never had one. My biological parents didn't think I was worth teaching my own races history and culture. I ran away. And because I wasn't a legal adult by our planets laws that's what I was: A runaway.”

“I was as wrong about the two of you as this arrogant human you keep talking about. I am sorry. And I will FIND a way to make it right.” He walked away without another word.

Several hours later. I walked up the stairs to first floor of the house. I found J'onn sitting at a breakfast table, staring out a window, looking at the sunset. “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. Xavallens don't. They are, by comparison, Friars and Philosophers.”

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

Right about then, I began to understand. “You thought she was Enkaren because she spoke that same language. But she doesn't make sense for an Enkaren. What is the significance of her being Zavallen?”

“Xavallens are protected. They are...almost treasured. If I had known what she was, hurting her to get you to speak...laying a finger on her without declaring my purpose would have been a punishable crime for 17 of the 23 major powers in the galaxies.

"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.”

Nikita noticed the look in my eyes and explained. “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.”

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

“I am not sure I understand.” J'onn said briefly.

“There was a White-skinned Martian at the D.E.O.” I explained. The behavior of that Martian might've been the result of prolonged captivity under Hank's care. And not indicative of his race.”

“So that wouldn't have told me.” Nikita continued. “Anyway, now I know Deimos is... oh for the love of all things natural!”

“What, what's wrong?”

“Did all of this come to a screeching halt just because I figured out which ancient Martian you came from?

When J'onn spoke, his voice was soft and deliberate. “It came to a halt because I realized you weren't Enkaren. Because this man,” He indicated me with his hand, “proved himself to be a Good man. And I never should have laid a proverbial finger on you in the first place.” He turned back to me. “On either of you.”

That's when I finally realized. “You thought I was...her keeper?”

“I thought she was Enkaren and you were keeping her calm and under control.”

“Demios Pah, Tor-ek Nitch-a.” Nikita said fiercely. I could tell she thoroughly meant it.

“WHAT?!” I exclaimed. “Nikita, what the hell was that?”

“She says I've dishonored the name of my ancestor. And she's not wrong.”

“Phobos, that is White Martians are known as aggressive, arrogant and flat out obsessed with their own races superiority. Deimos, those that trace their heritage back to Deimos are known to be honorable, duty-bound and stiff by comparison.”

“So, just to confirm, what we think of as the 'Enkaren' language...”

"...is the native language of Xavallens, Atraxi and Enkarens. We share the same root."

"That is...no longer taught."

“It's been the better part of 3,000 years and Enkarens no longer look like us. The three of us being sibling races is presumably still taught. But most people hear an Enkaren speaking and instantly think they are hearing the 'Enkaren tongue'. Now that I think about it, Jeremiah never got the chance to learn this either.”

“Now THAT I find hard to believe.”

“Hank wasn't interested in learning anything about her except how to break her. I knew the name of her race because she kept introducing herself to us 'My name is Nikita; I'm Xavallen'. But the word Xavallen didn't mean anything to me beyond that.”

“If I had known what she was, laying a hand on her to get you to talk would have been a crime. And I would have begged her forgiveness.”

“Sir, I confess I don't know where this comes from. But I know her, she holds you no grudge, for any of this.”

“And what about you?”

“You didn't know. And besides, it was as much my choice as hers.”

“I can see why she loves you so much.”

“...Loves me?”

“Like a father.” His face became concerned, and amazed. “You didn't know?”

“I didn't really have the chance to get to know her, until about 3 months ago.”