Metropolis - Convergence (part 3B)
“Oh come ON!” Jim Olsen yelled as he slammed his palm down onto his car’s horn. Even with the military directing traffic the streets of Metropolis the streets had become a sea of barely moving vehicles as people rushed to leave the city. If things didn’t pick up he’d probably run out of gas before he reached the edge of the city.
“I can walk faster than this!” he yelled out to no one in general. He was thirty seconds from seriously considering that option when events conspired to force his hand. A blast of prismatic light from the heavens lanced down not fifty feet in front of him and he reflexively ducked down in his seat as he saw a fireball erupt on the road ahead of him.
Ever so cautiously he peered up and over his dashboard at the fire raging not to far from him as screaming people started to stream past his car, fleeing back towards the city.
“Are they insane!?!” Jim exclaimed at the sight of the people. Then he saw another bolt from the heavens come crashing down not a hundred feet to his right and as he looked out further he saw more of the bolts lashing down from the sky around the perimeter of the city.
Jim bolted from his car and didn’t look back as he joined the fleeing crowd.
“Gentlemen and lady, this is what I call the sonic discombobulator,” Dr. Irons explained as he called up a diagram on the command center’s main display.
Despite the grimness of the situation Sam and the rest of his staff couldn’t help but chuckle. He noted no such mirth on the faces of Lex Luthor or Congressman Lana Lang, both of whom kept expressions of stony seriousness plastered on their faces.
“I realize the name may sound silly, but it is an accurate description of the weapon’s effects,” Dr. Irons explained calmly. “Senses are a universal trait,” he continued. “It doesn’t matter what planet you’re from you still need a way to perceive your environment. Convergent evolution shows that the ability to ability to perceive pressure waves; i.e. sound; is a common trait that has developed independently several times in Earth’s history. Thus it is reasonable to presume that the ability to hear is a trait we can expect other organisms, even alien organisms, to possess.”
“The science lesson is all well and good but what does this discombobulator do?” Sam asked. “In layman’s terms.”
“It generates a massive variable frequency sonic wave that will overload the target’s sense of hearing thereby inducing a state of pain and disorientation in the target,” Dr. Irons explained.
“I thought that was called a rock concert,” Sam deadpanned.
“More like a hundred rock concerts hitting you from all sides at the same time,” Dr. Irons said.
Sam was subtly impressed. “So this weapon is designed to disable then? Not to kill?”
“That is correct,” Dr. Irons said.
“As good as that might be we’re going to need something to pierce Superman’s invulnerable hide if we want a permanent solution,” Sam responded. “The boys at NORAD tell me the man can survive orbital re-entry at velocities in excess of two hundred miles per second.”
“We don’t believe that will be a problem,” Lex chimed in. “Nothing is ‘invulnerable’ General. You just need a big enough stick and, more importantly, the ability to hit your target. Superman’s greatest asset is mobility. It doesn’t matter how great a punch you throw because he won’t be there when it lands. The sonic discombobulator will take that asset away. Without that advantage a sufficiently large warhead should be able finish the job.”
“How large a warhead?” Sam asked.
“Based on my people’s estimates a bunker busting tomahawk missile would probably be sufficient to at least wound the alien,” Lex said resolutely.
“So I presume you’ve got at least one of these discombobulators available?” Sam asked.
“General, we have a dozen units ready for deployment,” Lex confirmed.
A dozen was definitely better than he’d hoped. “How portable are these things?”
“The discombobulator itself is about thirty-five pounds,” Dr. Irons said. “The power supply is another seventy five.”
One hundred and ten pounds. A hundred and thirty if you threw in a tripod mount. “Vehicle mounted then?”
“That would be ideal,” Dr. Irons said.
“Preferably something also equipped with a laser designator to call in a missile strike the moment Superman is incapacitated,” Lex added.
“You’ve been awfully quiet over there Congressman Lang,” Sam said to the young woman in the corner. He remembered the stories his niece had told him about this young woman, but he was having a difficult time connecting the stories with the harsh eyes of the woman in the corner. He had heard some of the rumors floating around the Pentagon about Ms. Lang and the powerful backers she supposedly had.
No supposed about it, Sam reminded himself. For a freshman congressman to be put in charge of a committee as important as the new Metahuman Affairs Committee meant that someone with a degree of power well above even his pay grade as a four star general had wanted her there. The fact that she had not been more verbally involved to this point was somewhat surprising to Sam; disturbing more accurately. From his experience most politicians loved to hear themselves speak and the fact that this one wasn’t bothered him.
“So what do you think Congressman?” Sam prodded again.
“I’m just here to advise and report to the Congress,” Ms. Lang replied. “So far I’ve not seen or heard anything that’s required my comment.”
“Do you think it will work?”
“No,” Lana said flatly. “I think you’re grasping at straws. What makes you think this exotic toy is going to have any effect on Superman?”
“Actually we believe it will be even more effective on Superman due to his vastly superior sense of hearing,” Dr. Irons pointed out.
“Correct me if I’m wrong Dr. Irons,” Ms. Lang said. “But I understand that Superman’s hearing and speed are believed to come from his ability to manipulate his personal gravity field.”
“That’s right,” Dr. Irons said, sounding a little impressed. Sam couldn’t help but notice a few raised eyebrows among his staff as well.
“Despite what some might think I was given my position for reasons other than my appearance,” Lana said coldly as she ran a hand through her silky black hair. “As I was saying; it is not so much that Superman’s ears are more sensitive than ours; it is that he can bend space-time to hear things at a distance.”
“The weapon will still debilitate someone with a normal range of hearing,” Dr. Irons pointed out.
“Only if Superman is moving at normal speed,” Lana corrected. “I believe you pointed out in your research paper that Superman’s apparent incredible speed is because time warps around him such that what are just a few moments to us would appear to be several minutes within his gravity field. Everything outside that field would be moving in slow motion… including sound waves.”
“Damn,” Dr. Irons cursed as much at himself as the situation.
“My opinion on the matter is that this isn’t a science fiction movie where a techno babble device whipped up by the heroic scientist at the last minute is going to save the day,” Lana continued. “This is the real world and the only option we have is to hit Superman with everything we have.”
There was something in the way Ms. Lang emphasized her last statement that sent a shiver down Sam’s spine.
“The President has already spoken with the President of Russia, the Chairman of China and the Prime Ministers of Britain, Japan, and Australia,” Ms. Lang continued. “We will not let some alien menace have this world… regardless of the sacrifice required.”
The shiver was still there. The scuttlebutt was true, but that wasn’t the cause of the creeping cold that clawed at Sam’s heart. The chill came from the young woman whose eyes were cold and pitiless as she spoke of sacrifice.
“General!” The voice had come from one of the junior officers at the various monitoring stations in the command center. “I think you should see this, sir!”
The main display where the sonic discombobulator had been displayed was replaced with a view of Metropolis in the distance. Bolts of energy were raining from the sky around the city. First one at a time, then two, then three.
“It just started, sir,” the junior officer said. “Initial reports indicate the bolts are only striking at the perimeter of the city; approximately five miles from the center.”
“So this is it,” Dr. Irons said out loud.
“No Doctor,” Sam interrupted. He could feel it in his bones. “It hasn’t even started yet.”
For the hundredth time that afternoon Martha Kent looked up at the dark clouds swirling unnaturally in the distance. The quiet was deafening and to keep her mind off of matters she had been focusing on a number of minor but necessary projects around the farm. She was currently working on changing the oil in the tractor. Martha was not particularly mechanically inclined, but that just meant she had to devote her full attention to the task and didn’t have to think about what was going on a hundred and eighty miles to the northeast.
She was worried about her son and about Lois because this matter involved them far more than the world could possibly realize. She had witnessed first hand the power that Jor-El’s ghost had wielded in trying to bring Clark to heel and though he had tried not to worry her when he later told her of his encounter, she knew that Brainiac was something far and away greater than the program that had accompanied Clark aboard his ship to Earth.
Life, Martha Kent had come to realize, was a series of mixed blessings. She had fallen in love with her beloved Jonathan only to learn that she was incapable of having children. A devastating meteor shower had also brought Clark into their lives. Jor-El had sent Clark to Earth out of love for his son, but had also sent a malignant cancer that desired nothing but conquest. The key, to her mind, was to hold onto the good while trying to let the bad go.
Martha had just about finished changing the oil when a crack like thunder caused her again to look up at the forlorn sky over Metropolis in the distance. Then despite herself she jumped as her gaze fell and she saw Clark and Lois standing before her; Clark’s brilliant red cloak draped around them.
Martha just raced forward and threw her arms around both of the kids. Okay, technically they were both adults, but at twenty-five that still made them kids to her and, more importantly, they were her kids… in spirit if not in blood.
“Mrs. Kent,” Lois semi-gasped in Martha’s embrace. “Unlike your son, I’m not invulnerable.”
Martha loosened her grip just slightly but held on for several moments more. Finally at Lois’ continued urging she released Lois and Clark from her grip.
“What are you two doing here?” Martha finally asked; her joy at seeing them tempered by what was occurring back at Metropolis and the knowledge that her son was not one to surrender easily. Nor was Lois for that matter.
“We think we’ve found Brainiac’s hideout,” Clark said. “We need kryptonite if we’re going to face him.”
“I’ve still got a piece in the barn,” Martha said as she started off towards the large red structure with Lois and Clark following behind.
“Wait,” Lois said sounding shocked. “Your mom keeps kryptonite, as in material that can kill her son, in the barn?”
“Well, it is in a lead box,” Martha explained.
“Kinda not the point,” Lois replied.
“Someone has to be able to stop me if I ever lose control,” Clark said. “The first time I was affected by red kryptonite it took the regular kind to stop me. When Jor-El tried to brainwash me, exposure to kryptonite caused enough pain to snap me out of it.”
“It’s just basic toxicology,” Martha said. “The dose makes the poison. Aspirin is useful, but too much can kill you.”
“Okay fine,” Lois remarked. “But then why am I here? I thought I’d have to be the one to retrieve a chunk since Clark obviously can’t easily.”
“Because I want you to make sure my mother stays okay,” Clark told her as Martha retrieved a lead-lined box from the bottom shelf of the tool cabinet.
“No way!” Lois yelled back. “You are not sidelining me on this! That kryptonite is going to put you out of action too you know.”
“I know,” Clark said with a hint of melancholy on his face.
“Oh no you don’t!” Lois all but screamed; her voice laced with emotion. “You do not get to sacrifice yourself on this. Not when we’ve come this far. Not when there’s another way.”
“Lois, this is Brainiac in full-on endgame mode,” Clark told her as calmly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“All the more reason you shouldn’t be facing it alone,” Lois shot back. “You said yourself that you don’t think Brainiac wants to kill me and it’s not exactly like I’m defenseless,” she continued as she held up her silvery Kryptonian bracelet with its turquoise shaman’s eye.
“I’m the ‘One who stands by you,’ remember?” Lois said quietly unable to sustain her angry tone against Clark. “We have to face him together, Clark. No matter what happens it’s where I need to be.”
“Alright,” Clark said simply. He could see the determination on Lois’ face as clearly as Martha could. As dangerous as it might be, the doubts and regrets if she did not go with Clark would be as poisonous to the young woman as anything she might face while confronting Brainiac. This was something she had to see through to the end.
“Thank you,” Lois replied.
“I’m only agreeing because I know if I don’t take you along you’ll just follow me on your own,” Clark told her.
“…And you couldn’t live with not being there to protect me if something happened any more than I could live with not being there for this,” Lois finished for him as she took the small lead-lined box from Martha.
Martha couldn’t contain herself anymore and again threw her arms around Lois and Clark. “Please be careful,” she begged them.
“We will,” Clark assured her as he gently broke her embrace. “Let’s go,” he said to Lois.
Martha watched them depart into the sky and tracked them for as long as she was able. When she could see them no longer she dropped to her knees on the dusty driveway as the realization that she might very well never see them again washed over her. Looking up to the sky she simply prayed that her children would be okay. Her only consolation was that, whatever they would be facing, they would face it together.
Sam Lane stalked back to his quarters. He had finally called an end to the planning meeting when it became clear that there was simply nothing that could be planned at this point. The fact of the matter was there was nothing they could do about the bolts of energy raining from the sky around the city of Metropolis; there was nothing to target and no enemy to fight. Sam could feel in his bones though that the situation would change soon enough. A simple truism of warfare was that no matter how technologically advanced a military force was you couldn’t actually hold territory without feet on the ground.
So if there was nothing to be done, Sam reasoned, he shouldn’t waste what time he had with people he couldn’t stand, but with the person he cared about. As he walked Sam considered the people who had been his advisors. He considered himself a good judge of character; one did not rise to the rank of general without the ability to evaluate others.
Of the three, the one he found easiest to tolerate was Dr. Irons. The man clearly knew his science and was willing to think outside the box when it came to solutions. Dr. Irons also had an aversion to killing, which any professional warrior liked. He’d met many scientists who’d developed all manner of ways to increase the lethality of weaponry over the years, but far fewer with a genuine passion for non-lethal solutions. Sam suspected this was in part because those scientists were detached from the end results; something a soldier could achieve only if they were an utter psychopath. Sometimes killing had to be done, but it was nothing to enjoy. Sam had read Dr. Iron’s file en route to Metropolis and in addition to his space plane design, the man was also in the process of developing an EMP weapon for the military to disable vehicles and installations without harming the occupants and this sonic weapon looked very promising for use against anything that wasn’t a super-powered alien.
The only thing Sam could really fault Dr. Irons on was his choice of employer. Lex Luthor was very charming Sam had to admit; beguilingly so. When he spoke it was with an air of confidence and authority which suggested to those not paying close attention that his opinion was the correct one in any given situation. Coupled with intelligence and a great deal of ambition it made Lex Luthor a very powerful and influential man; one able to turn the ear of many inside the beltway. He was a man who had seen death and betrayal and survived both through sheer force of will. He could tell from the way he spoke and way he stood that he was a man who very much wanted to be in control of everything in his life. There was also a darkness to Lex Luthor; something primeval and predatory. It was something the man warred against, Sam could tell, but it was there all the same. Combined with that desire for control, it made Sam very grateful that Lois was no longer in a relationship with him; she deserved better.
As for the last of his advisors, Sam could not find the difference between the young woman named Lana Lang and his niece to be more striking. Though Lois was very pretty, Lana Lang was poised and elegant with perfect silken hair and the sculpted beauty of a porcelain doll. She had received degrees from some of the most prestigious universities in the world and associated with the most powerful and prestigious people on Earth. But she was utterly dead inside and that frightened Sam more than even Lex Luthor; for there but for the grace of God was what his niece could have become.
The analogy of the porcelain doll was an apt one, for they too were hollow inside. Lois had distanced herself from people out of grief, but he had seen the spark of life in her eyes when she glanced at her friend Clark and the genuine tears of gratitude upon receiving her father’s dog tags. There was still a soul hiding underneath the emotional scar tissue which covered her heart. It could be a burden, Sam knew, for he had heard Lois crying out in her sleep when she had come to visit him all those years ago and from her eyes Sam knew that it was still the case. But Sam would not wish the likely dreamless sleep of Lana Lang upon Lois for anything; for despite what Lois might think of herself then she would be truly dead; nothing more than a shell pretending at life.
Then there was the object of all their attention; Superman. The politicos in both the government and within the military had pegged the alien as a threat from the moment he burst onto the scene; but for the first time Sam found himself honestly asking ‘why?’ What was the source of the instant animosity towards a being who, as Lois had pointed out in her tirade, had done nothing but try to help people? It was true that Superman had stepped on some toes when he tore through the D.E.O. facility, but the animosity had existed even before then and, from the reports he had read, no person of good conscience could have stood by and allowed the incarceration and outright torture of innocent people. So where did the hostility come from?
Power. For all Sam’s attempts to find some higher reason for the hatred, the only one that fit was power. Who had it, who wanted it, and who got to decide where that power was exercised. Superman had power and that made him a threat to anyone else who thought they held all the cards. Those who believed themselves the elites could not trust one being with the power Superman had because in their heart of hearts they knew what they would do with such power if given the chance. It was this distrust and fear that Sam had read in Luthor’s eyes when he spoke of Superman. They might be correct in their analysis, but their judgment in the matter was compromised.
Could one man be trusted with such power? Sam couldn’t even begin to guess. For all his exalted rank he’d never stopped seeing his career as one of service. To his mind the greatest flaw in the world was that power only seemed to gravitate towards those who lacked the ethics to use that power responsibly; when such a man did come along they were often persecuted mercilessly in their own time, often due to the influence of the power brokers they opposed; their noble accomplishments only appreciated in hindsight.
Sam didn’t know whether Superman was hero or villain, but Lois had certainly been convinced of the former and, though Clark did not trumpet the sentiment as Lois had, he could tell that her friend certainly appreciated the sentiment. Indeed, he’d never seen his niece more convinced of anything in her entire life. Her voice had been filled with everything that was lacking in those of his advisors… Hope. She believed it was possible to win. Not only that, she believed that they would win; that Superman would save the day like some knight in shining armor.
More for her sake than for the world Sam hoped she was right. She had been betrayed too often and, if she were right, then maybe there was some higher power watching out for them after all.
I may have to start going back to church, he remarked to himself as he allowed Lois’ hope to fuel his own. Then he walked into his quarters to find them empty. A hand written note waited for him on the table.
Sam,
Clark and I had to go back to Metropolis. When I was young you spoke to me about duty and the need to do everything you could to make a difference. I can’t tell you everything, but I believe we can make a difference there. I couldn’t live with myself if we didn’t at least try. I hope to see you again soon, but if I don’t I just wanted to let you know that I love you and I’m sorry I wasted all those years pushing you away.
Lois.
Sam reread the note again still in shock. He went to the window where he could barely see Metropolis in the distance through the tears welling up in his eyes and the waning sunlight. Even as he watched, the ever increasing bolts of fire from the sky seemed to coalesce into a massive glowing wall of light; sealing off the city and every last shred of Sam’s hope.