Mother's Day
By Nan Smith <hachiban@earthlink.net
Rated: PG
Submitted: January 2006

Disclaimer: The characters and familiar settings in this story 
are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd 
Productions and whoever else can legally lay claim to them, but 
the story is mine.



"CJ Kent!" The PE coach was a new sub today, CJ thought. All the 
regulars knew him. He raised a hand. "Here, sir."

The sub was a fairly young guy with the kind of build that told 
CJ he took his position seriously. He looked CJ over 
appraisingly. Linda, from her position four spots away, glanced 
at him with her eyebrows up.

"Okay; I'm told you're the team captain." The man glanced around 
the class. "Who's Francis Larson?"

There were a few muffled snickers. Biff raised a hand, scowling 
at the sub. "That's Biff."

"Right -- Biff. Okay, I'll see you two. Everybody else head out 
to the exercise field."

Biff and CJ stood to one side while the rest of the class left. 
When the others had gone, the new coach stood up, surveying CJ's 
slender form next to Biff's larger, more muscular body. "I'm told 
you're the best pitcher on the team," the coach said. He looked 
dubiously at CJ.

"That's right," CJ said confidently.

"Hmm." The man shrugged. "All right. You both know your team is 
going up against Eastside Elementary tomorrow in an exhibition 
game. I want to be sure we're going to have a team effort here. 
Biff, I understand you and Kent don't get along well."

Biff grunted.

"Kent?"

CJ was careful not to shrug. "Not on the playground, sir," he 
said politely. "Biff's in sixth grade and I'm in fifth. Biff's a 
good right fielder, though."

"I'd think with your muscle you'd pitch a good fast ball," the 
coach said doubtfully, looking at Biff. "I'm going to want to see 
the two of you pitch. I'm not sure Kent is the best for starting 
pitcher."

CJ didn't smile. All that the guy had to see was Biff trying to 
pitch. CJ could handle any kind of pitch the catcher wanted. Biff 
could throw a long way, but he couldn't have pitched a ball if 
his life depended on it.

Biff grunted again. "I ain't a pitcher."

"Well, we'll let me decide that. Head over to the field and pick 
me out a decent catcher."

"That would be Wyatt Dillon," CJ said. "He's our best catcher."

The coach didn't say anything, but CJ got the feeling that this 
guy wasn't too sure about the players on the Metro Elementary 
baseball team. They'd just have to show him that they knew what 
they were doing. He hoped he wasn't going to sub for Coach 
Tibbets for long. Trying to change pitchers the day before a game 
didn't strike him as the smartest move he'd ever seen.

The rest of the class was doing stretches when CJ and Biff 
followed the coach out to the field. The man made a megaphone of 
his hands. "Dillon! Put on your catcher's gear and go on over to 
home plate. We're going to have a little test."

Wyatt trotted over to the box where the team's supplies were kept 
during the day and a couple of minutes later was in place.

"Okay, Larson," the coach said. "Show me what you've got."

Biff picked up the ball, wound up and let fly. Wyatt had to throw 
himself flat to avoid the ball. The coach frowned. "Haven't you 
ever pitched before, Larson? Throw it in the batting zone, over 
the plate. Aim for the glove."

Biff shrugged and tried again. The ball went over Wyatt's head.

The coach scowled. "You've got to be able to throw well enough to 
get the ball in from right field, Larson. Try again."

Throwing a ball in from right field was a bit different from 
putting it precisely through the batting zone, CJ thought, but he 
didn't say anything.

This time the ball clipped Wyatt's shoulder, knocking the boy to 
the ground. He got up, rubbing the spot, and the coach stood up. 
"You okay, Dillon?"

"Yeah." Wyatt rubbed his shoulder again. 

Biff glowered at the coach. "I told you, I ain't a pitcher," he 
said. "Kent's the starting pitcher."

The man looked doubtfully at CJ. "You're the best on the team?" 
he said. "You don't look very muscular. All right, let's see you 
throw a fast ball."

"Are you sure you're okay, Wyatt?" CJ asked. "If not, I can have 
Gary catch."

"Gary can't handle your pitches," Wyatt said. "I can. Just hit 
the glove, not my shoulder."

"Count on it." CJ pulled on his glove, picked up the ball and 
strode to the pitcher's mound. Wyatt pulled his catcher's mask 
into place and held up the glove.

CJ wound up and threw. With a smack that echoed across the field, 
the ball struck precisely in the middle of the glove. Wyatt 
grinned and threw it back. The coach frowned.

"That's not half bad," he said. "Can you put some spin on it?"

CJ complied. The man's eyebrows climbed. "Not bad," he repeated.

Not bad his foot. CJ knew darned well that he was the best 
pitcher in the local Little League, and so did everyone else -- 
and he had been since well before he had started to show any 
super powers. As a matter of fact, being a good pitcher now 
required more control than ever in order to keep the pitches 
normal and not too fast or too hard. His dad had told him it was 
good practice.

Three pitches later, the coach called a halt. "Okay, I guess 
you're right. You're the starting pitcher tomorrow. Split into 
your usual teams and get some practice in. Kent, I want to see 
you after class."

Now what? CJ wondered. He'd been careful not to show any 
abilities beyond a normal kid's, but this guy was paying him a 
little too much attention for comfort.

**********

The coach was sitting in the PE office when CJ changed out of his 
gym clothes and presented himself. There was a gym bag by one 
wall, with the man's name on it in indelible ink, and what looked 
like a record file on the desk before him. CJ took in the scene 
with a quick glance around and waited for the coach to speak.

"CJ Kent -- that stands for Clark Jerome," the man said. "I guess 
I know why you go by CJ. You named for your father?"

"Yes," CJ said. "Why?"

"No reason, really. Would that be the reporter?"

"My dad is a reporter, if that's what you want to know," CJ said. 
"What does that have to do with PE?"

"Nothing." Coach Pilson smiled. "I wondered when I saw the name. 
I thought maybe that was why you were the captain. Guess I was 
wrong. You're an exceptionally good pitcher."

"Thanks," CJ said.

"How long you been playing baseball?"

"I've been in Little League since I was eligible," CJ said.

"Oh. Any special training?"

"My grandfather taught me to pitch," CJ said. "He used to pitch 
for the Smallville Sluggers."

"Oh." The man seemed surprised. "Okay. I guess that makes sense."

What did he mean by that, CJ wondered. This guy seemed a little 
too inquisitive for his taste. 

The phone rang, and Pilson picked up the receiver. CJ glanced 
around. The gym bag caught his eye and on impulse, he x-rayed it.

A gun? That was the first thing that he noticed. Something was 
definitely wrong here.

Careful not to betray that he had seen anything unusual, he 
continued to look around the office as if he were bored, then 
looked back at Pilson. The coach had swiveled away from him and 
was listening to someone on the other end. CJ decided that he 
should listen, too. If this guy was interested in Clark Kent's 
son, he wanted to know why.

"Have you seen any indication of unusual abilities?" the voice 
was asking.

"Not yet," Pilson said. "I'll continue to observe, of course."

"Do that. If the boy is one of them, we need to know."

CJ glanced casually at the file on the desk. It had been covered 
by another sheet of paper, but that was no barrier to his x-ray 
vision. He wasn't surprised now to see that it was his record.

Pilson signed off and hung up. "I understand you're adopted."

"Yeah," CJ said. "What about it? My mom was one of Dad's 
cousins."

"Do you know who your dad was?"

CJ decided that it was time to cut this off. "Her boyfriend. And 
this is none of your business!"

"Easy there." Pilson held up his hands. "I didn't mean to insult 
you."

"Yeah, well I'm going to be late for class if I don't go."

"All right. Be sure you're here at lunch for practice."

"I have to rest my pitching arm before a game," CJ said. "It gets 
sore if I don't, and my grandfather told me to be careful not to 
hurt myself."

"All right. But be here, anyway, for the pre-game briefing."

"All right." CJ made a personal vow not to let this guy get him 
alone again. The memory of Bureau 39 was still fresh in his mind. 
Dad needed to know about Coach Pilson right away.

**********

Wyatt met him in the hall outside the PE office and they headed 
back for their classroom. "What did the new coach want?"

CJ waited until they were far enough from the office that he was 
sure Pilson couldn't overhear him. "There's something weird about 
him," he said flatly. "He's got a gun in his gym bag, and he was 
talking to somebody on the phone who wanted to know if I'd shown 
any unusual abilities. I'm thinking those Bureau 39 guys."

"Didn't they get busted up?" Wyatt wanted to know.

"I thought so. I have to talk to Dad."

"Yeah. Maybe he can find out. In the meantime, be sure you don't 
do anything different."

"Yeah." CJ figured he didn't need to worry about that. He made 
sure not to do anything outside the normal anyway. Still, if this 
new coach was trying to decide if he was one of the children of 
the New Kryptonians, he could very well set traps that CJ might 
be expected to fall into, if he wasn't on the alert.

Dad would know what to do, he thought. He wished he could talk to 
him right now. This was scary stuff, and he felt very vulnerable 
suddenly. Still, he was probably safe for now, as long as he 
stayed with other kids. And the last thing he needed to do was to 
scare his mother. It wouldn't help Lois to get upset about crazy 
government agents right now. He didn't want to send his mom into 
premature labor again.

**********

During the lunchtime practice, CJ sat on the bench, watching the 
others. He had already warned Linda, who was careful not to do 
anything spectacular while on the baseball field with Coach 
Pilson watching. Linda was the team's shortstop, and very good at 
it. Lunch period passed, and CJ returned to his classroom. He was 
anxious to get home and let his dad know what was going on. 

When school let out, he, Linda, Wyatt and Marta left school 
together, headed for the Kent home. Wyatt's mom was still 
working, as was Linda's, and the two children always came home 
with CJ and Marta. CJ watched as they walked, keeping an eye on 
everything around them.

And parked across the street from his home was a red sports car. 
It figured that Pilson would have a red sports car, he thought. 
The man was definitely watching him.

CJ didn't let on by the slightest glance that he had noticed 
Pilson in the red car. They walked sedately up the steps to the 
townhouse and CJ used his key to open the door.

He felt slightly safer once the outer door had closed behind 
them, but he wouldn't feel completely safe until Dad knew what 
was going on. Mom, as usual, was lying on the sofa with her feet 
up. Grandma Martha could be heard clinking around in the kitchen, 
and as they stepped through the inner door into the living room, 
she poked her head out the kitchen door. "Hi kids. I have some 
cookies and milk in here for anyone who wants some."

"Hi, Mom," CJ said. "Is Dad still at work?"

"Yes," his mother said. "Where else would he be? He'll be picking 
up Jonny from his after school class in half an hour."

"Okay. I wanted to ask him something about my science 
assignment." CJ turned to glance back out at the street, looking 
through both walls at the red sports car. The guy was fiddling 
with some kind of electronic gadget aimed at their house, but was 
apparently having trouble with it, judging from the scowl on his 
face and the fact that he was occasionally hitting it with his 
hand. CJ could make a guess at what it was. The creep was trying 
to eavesdrop on his family, probably with a directional 
microphone. He needed to get in touch with his dad pronto, before 
the guy got it working. CJ went up the steps to his parents' 
bedroom and picked up the phone.

There was a low buzzing on the line that probably wouldn't have 
been audible to anyone without enhanced hearing. CJ put down the 
phone. Not a good idea. He needed some way to talk to his dad 
without the possibility of bugged phone lines.

'Dad,' he thought, despairingly, 'come home! I need to talk to 
you! It's an emergency!'

No one could have been more surprised than CJ when his father's 
voice said in his mind, accompanied by a sensation of utter 
astonishment: 'CJ!?'

**********

Clark was shutting down his computer in preparation for leaving 
when his son's voice said loudly and clearly in his mind: 'Dad, 
come home! I need to talk to you! It's an emergency!'

For an instant, he thought he was imagining things, and then the 
twelve-year-old memories of the New Kryptonian telepathic 
contacts flashed into his mind. CJ was communicating with him via 
telepathy!

'CJ?' he answered, astounded.

An instant's silence that, in itself, held a startled quality, 
and the CJ's mental voice said incredulously, 'Dad?'

'Yes,' Clark said. 'I'll explain later. What's the matter? Is it 
your mother?'

The sensation of astonishment had faded almost at once. Trust a 
modern kid, Clark thought briefly, to accept such things as 
telepathy so easily. 'Dad, there's a guy watching the house. 
Watching *me*. I think he's got a directional mike, and the phone 
sounds funny, like it might be bugged or something. I don't know 
what to do!'

With any other child, Clark might have been a little skeptical, 
but this was CJ. CJ was a calm, down-to-earth boy who rarely let 
his imagination run away with him. Plus, he had already had some 
experience with some of the not-so-nice members of society. 'What 
happened?'

CJ told him, starting with the substitute coach's interest in him 
at school, the gun in the gym bag and the fact that he was now 
sitting in his car across from the townhouse, fiddling with a 
piece of equipment that didn't seem to be working. Clark listened 
in silence until his son had finished.

'Okay,' he said, 'go downstairs and warn your grandmother -- via 
a note -- about what's happening. No one is to talk about 
anything involving super powers. Warn your sister and Linda and 
Wyatt, too. Your grandmother can warn your mother. I know you 
don't want to scare her, but she needs to know. Has Coach Pilson 
got his equipment working yet?'

Silence. 'I don't think so. He just hit it a couple more times.'

'Good. Hurry now.'

'Okay. Thanks, Dad.' CJ's mental voice 'felt' calmer now. Clark 
swept the contents of his desktop into a bottom drawer in a 
manner similar to Lois's favorite method of desktop cleaning and 
stood up. Jim Olsen saw him, and raised an eyebrow.

"In a hurry?"

"Yeah. There might be a problem at home."

"Lois?" Jim asked quickly.

"No. It seems that someone is watching the house and has a 
directional mike aimed at it. Phone might be bugged, too."

"Oh." Jim glanced at Perry White's office. "Better take off. I'll 
tell Perry." He paused. "I'm about to leave for the day, too. Is 
there anything I can do to help?"

"Uh --" Clark was about to refuse and stopped. "Jonny needs to be 
picked up from his after-school class. I can do it if you can't, 
though."

"Say no more," Jim said. "I'll get him. It sounds like you might 
be busy for a while. Sandi's going to pick up the baby, so we 
won't have a conflict."

"Thanks." Clark headed for the elevator, grateful one more time 
that he no longer had set hours as long as he continued to bring 
in headlines, and that Jim Olsen had figured out the Kent family 
secret years ago. How would he have ever managed without the 
close circle of friends who knew his secret and rallied around to 
help him solve the problems that he had to deal with every day? 

A short time later, Superman was floating above the townhouse, 
five hundred feet in the air, looking down at the man in the red 
sports car. He had a directional mike, all right, and apparently 
had it partially working, for he was wearing a pair of earphones 
and frowning at the sounds he was picking up from the townhouse. 
Clark listened for a minute and had to grin, even through his 
concern, at the information that was being transmitted to the 
listener.

Jimmy, in the playroom, was engaged in playing the newest in the 
family's acquisition of Playstation games, full of crashes, 
machine gun fire and explosions, with the sound turned up high. 
Wyatt and CJ had retreated to CJ's room and were doing their 
English homework while listening to the newest music group to hit 
the airwaves -- indistinguishable to Clark's ears from the last 
ten, at least -- in the last couple of months. Marta and Linda 
had apparently undertaken to make a cake under Martha Kent's 
tutelage, and were engaged in running the electric mixer, and 
Lois had evidently decided to engage in an Ivory Tower marathon, 
judging by the stack of tapes sitting on the coffee table. 
Hopefully their eavesdropper would get tired of the racket in a 
hurry, but Clark had little faith in that. Still, the family, 
with the exception of Jimmy, who had no way of knowing that 
anything was wrong, had apparently deliberately chosen activities 
designed to make the listener as bored and uncomfortable as 
possible.

Still, he needed to find out who was interested in his son, and 
by extension, his family. Too much interest in the Kent family 
was definitely something to be avoided.

He noted the license plate on the car, then pulled a U-turn in 
the air and made a beeline for the office of Deputy Mayor William 
Henderson. 

**********

Bill Henderson was working on the rough draft of the speech that 
he was planning to make before the City Council and, of course, 
the press, at the next Council meeting that was scheduled in two 
days, when he heard the light tapping on the glass of his office 
window. Since the window was on the second floor of the building, 
and Lois Lane was pretty much grounded with her triplets, there 
was only one person it was likely to be, unless the media was 
starting to employ human flies as their correspondents.

Sure enough, floating beyond the window was the shape of a tall 
man in a skin-tight costume of electric blue and a flapping red 
cape. He grinned sardonically. "Come on in," he said. "It's 
unlocked."

The city's resident superhero opened the window and dropped to 
the rug. "Hi, Bill."

"And what can the Mayor's office do for you today?" Henderson 
asked. "I hope you're not using your celebrity status to get a 
sneak preview of the Deputy Mayor's blockbuster speech day after 
tomorrow."

Clark looked slightly shocked. "I'd never do a thing like that!"

Henderson shook his head. "Unfortunately, I know that all too 
well. I take it this isn't just a social call?"

"I'm sorry to say, not. I wanted to know if you've been keeping 
track of the situation regarding Bureau 39, and what their status 
is."

Henderson frowned. "The investigation is still going forward. 
Cash and his buddies are in prison, awaiting trial for 
kidnapping, murder, treason, and several other charges. Why?"

"My son's PE coach is apparently getting snoopy about him." Clark 
hesitated. "He overheard someone on the phone asking the coach if 
CJ was exhibiting any unusual abilities. CJ x-rayed the guy's gym 
bag and saw a gun in it, and as of five minutes ago, the coach's 
car is parked across the street from my house, with a directional 
microphone aimed at it. My house phone is probably also bugged. I 
want to know who he works for."

Henderson sat up straight. "So do I. What's his name?"

"Well," Clark said, "at the school, he's going under the name of 
Pilson."

"Got a description?"

Clark stepped forward and picked up a pencil and notepad. "I can 
sketch his face for you." The pencil was flying over the paper, 
and an instant later, he held out the pad with a very skillfully 
done line drawing. "I don't know about height or weight. He's 
fairly good-sized and muscular. I'd guess two hundred pounds, 
somewhere between five-ten and six feet. He was sitting down when 
I saw him. I've written his license plate number below the 
drawing."

Henderson took the paper. "If I were the curious sort, I'd wonder 
why your adopted son was developing your powers, but fortunately 
I'm not. Curious, that is. Let me make a few inquiries. In the 
meantime, you might want to go back and keep an eye on this 
fellow."

"Thanks," Clark said. "Call my cell phone if you find anything."

"I will." Henderson cocked an eyebrow at him. "How do you know 
when to answer 'Superman' and when to answer otherwise?"

"Caller ID," Clark said. "How else?"

"Of course," Henderson murmured. "All right, get going. I'll let 
you know what I find out."

**********

The red car was still sitting across the street from the 
townhouse when he pulled up in the Jeep. Jim's restored, classic 
Studebaker was parked by the curb, so he concluded that his co-
worker hadn't left yet. He parked directly in front of the house 
and jogged up the steps, never glancing at the man who was 
apparently spying on his family. Maybe the guy was hoping for 
some kind of incriminating dialogue when he got there. If so, he 
was going to be disappointed.

He unlocked the door and went in, locking it behind him. He 
hadn't seen any sign of Kryptonite in the red sports car, but it 
was just as well not to take chances. 

Jim Olsen was seated in the armchair next to the sofa where Lois 
reclined, and the two of them were looking at the screen of the 
computer that Lois kept within reach of her spot. "The Ivory 
Tower" was blasting away at a level that made him wince.

"Hi, CK!" Jim said, his cheerful voice at variance with the 
expression on his face as he beckoned Clark over to the sofa.

"Hey, Jim. Thanks for bringing Jonny home for me." Clark crossed 
the room and bent to see what they were doing.

"No sweat," Jim said. "I guess all this leave for Lois is giving 
her a chance to catch up on her soap opera. How'd the interview 
go?"

"Fine," Clark said. "I'll write it up in a bit and send it to the 
office. It should make the deadline."

On the screen of the computer, Jim had pulled up the DataNet and 
he and Lois were looking at a picture and profile of Boris 
Pilson, presumably a substitute coach currently at Metropolis 
Elementary.

The picture was of a much older man, in a state of considerable 
less physical fitness, than the man Clark had seen in the car 
across the street. It also gave an address. Clark nodded and 
jerked a thumb at the rear of the house. "I'm going to go change, 
honey. When I get back I'll see if Mom needs any help with 
dinner."

"Thanks, sweetheart," Lois said. She made a slight face and 
rubbed her back.

"Anything wrong?" Clark asked.

"No. Just more false labor. I've had so much of it ever since the 
premature labor scare."

"If it keeps up, let me know. It won't hurt to take you over to 
Women's Hospital to check it out."

"Clark, I'm *fine*. If anything seems even the slightest bit off, 
I'll tell you. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

"I'm going to take off," Jim said. "Sandi won't like it if I'm 
late for dinner. I'll see if I can dig up more background on that 
story for you, CK. If I find anything, I'll email it over, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks."

Jim headed for the front door. Lois pointed silently to the 
screen where a Word document was now displayed prominently. On 
it, Jimmy had typed: "Will contact my dad."

"I'll go change, now, honey," Clark said. "Back in a few 
minutes." He bent down to kiss his wife on the lips. 

Lois nodded. "I think I can manage here for that long," she said, 
making a shooing motion with her hand. 

Clark went up the stairs to the master bedroom. A glance upward 
at the attic playroom showed him that Jonny and Jimmy were now 
arguing vociferously over the possession of the game controller. 
He smiled grimly. He hoped that the watcher, whoever he really 
was, was getting an earful of a busy family with nothing unusual 
about them at all.

A look out the rear window of the house convinced him that there 
was no one paying undue attention to them from this side. 
Apparently the pseudo-coach was there to eavesdrop, but wasn't 
watching for any comings and goings by other members of the 
family. A minute later, Superman was on his way to the address of 
Boris Pilson.

**********

"I checked out Mr. Pilson," Clark told Deputy Mayor Henderson a 
short time later. "He's due to retire in a couple of years. All 
his information matches the stuff I found on him at the school 
except his age and picture."

"In other words, the guy at the school's an impostor," Henderson 
said. "Not that I'm surprised. From my end, I'm working on the 
assumption that if he isn't from Bureau 39, then he's got some 
kind of connection with it. Maybe a friend of Cash's in another 
government department. I doubt that all the nuts are in one 
basket. Security agencies are normally manned by dedicated men 
and women, but they do have the tendency to attract the 
occasional conspiracy freak. Trask and Cash were prime examples. 
I wonder if there's something about the idea of aliens that 
brings out the paranoid in some folks."

"Maybe," Clark said, somewhat dryly. "The trouble is, my 
presence, and Nor's invasion, make it kind of hard to laugh at 
the idea. I'm living proof of the existence of aliens. I guess 
the idea of our inclusion into the human race scares some 
people."

Henderson snorted. "Don't give me that. The very fact that 
human/Kryptonian hybrids exist proves that you *are* human -- 
even if you're a long-lost branch of the family. I'd like to hear 
Klein's theory on that some day -- if I thought I could 
understand it. Still, you have a point. Some people are still 
living in the Stone Age. You say Olsen is trying to get hold of 
his father?"

Clark nodded. "Jack Olsen might be the right guy to identify this 
character. In the meantime, though, I need to do something about 
my phone. There's definitely a bug on it. I can hear it."

"Hmm." Henderson rubbed his chin with his index finger. "Let's 
see ..."

**********

CJ and Wyatt had finished their English homework and graduated to 
Math while the adults of the family went about dealing with the 
problem of the snooper. English was CJ's subject of expertise, 
and he frequently had to help Wyatt with the mysteries of nouns, 
verbs, adjectives, and general spelling. On the other hand, Wyatt 
excelled in Math, and had a knack for explaining to CJ the finer 
points of the day's math lesson. The two boys were wrangling 
through the latest assignment, with CJ occasionally glancing 
through the wall at the man in the red car. Pilson looked bored, 
and was reading a magazine. CJ got a glimpse of the picture on 
the cover and made a face. The woman was so top-heavy as to seem 
in danger of falling over. He knew that someday Linda would have 
a figure like other adult women, and the prospect didn't disturb 
him at all, but the way the man was drooling over the pictures 
made his stomach turn. He decided that, even if Pilson hadn't 
been spying on him, he just didn't like the guy. His mother and 
father had taught him long ago that he should respect women. Even 
if he tended to think that most girls were a nuisance, he always 
treated them politely, and ever since he had gotten to know 
Linda, he'd felt somewhat differently toward them. Maybe he was 
growing up, he reflected. He'd always thought the way his mother 
and father smooched in front of their kids to be a little 
embarrassing, but the thought of kissing Linda someday didn't 
seem so bad. In fact, it might be something to look forward to. 
Maybe Dad was onto something after all.

Wyatt was watching him. CJ glanced back and made a face. Wyatt 
rolled his eyes.

They finished the math and stuffed their books into their 
backpacks. CJ stood up and stretched. "Want to play a computer 
game?" he asked.

"Sure," Wyatt said. "That's unless Jimmy and Jonny are on it."

CJ caught himself before he informed Wyatt that Jonny and Jimmy 
were on the Playstation, wiping out the Mindworm Invaders. "Let's 
go see," he said.

Linda and Marta entered the playroom seconds after CJ and Wyatt. 
Marta promptly sat down behind her younger brothers and started 
directing them in their play. CJ smiled at Linda, who looked 
questioningly at him. He jerked a thumb toward the front of the 
house. Linda's eyes took on a distant look, and then she made a 
face.

It was too bad, CJ thought, that they couldn't talk to each other 
without a pencil and paper. Then, the memory of what had happened 
earlier in the day crossed his mind. Would it work with Linda? 
Dad and he were full Kryptonians, but Linda was half. Would that 
make a difference?

Well, there was one way to find out, if he could figure out how 
he'd done it with Dad.

"Hey!" he said. "I've got an idea! Let's have a seance!"

Wyatt and Linda looked at him like they thought he'd gone crazy. 
He pointed with his thumb toward the front of the house again and 
raised his eyebrows. Marta had turned from her job of annoying 
her younger brothers and CJ saw her look toward the red car. 
"Yeah, let's," she said. Wyatt and Linda looked at each other and 
then Linda spoke.

"Okay," she said slowly, "I guess we could. Do you have an Ouija 
board?"

"Sure," Marta said. "It's on the shelf with the other games. I'll 
get it."

"I'll go get Dad's paperweight," CJ said. "It's a piece of round 
glass. It'll do for a crystal ball."

"Don't we need some candles?" Wyatt asked.

"Mom wouldn't like us lighting candles," Marta said, "but you 
could get a couple of flashlights. CJ has a mini-mag in his room, 
and there's one on my dresser."

"It's in my top drawer," CJ said. "You get them while I get the 
paperweight."

"Okay," Wyatt said, game as always. With a clatter of shoes on 
the wooden steps, the two boys departed in search of the 
paperweight and flashlights.

A short time later, the four children gathered in one corner of 
the playroom. They had turned out the lights, although Jimmy and 
Jonny continued to play on the Playstation without pausing. CJ 
doubted that they even realized that the lights were out. Other 
than the television, the only light in the room was provided by 
the two mini-mags sitting on end, braced by several books, in the 
middle of the circle of four children. The light reflected off 
the glass of Clark's big, round, glass paperweight, and Linda had 
laid the Ouija board on the floor in front of her.

CJ had no idea how a seance was supposed to be conducted, but it 
didn't really matter. He'd only suggested it to give himself 
cover while he tried to figure out how he had communicated 
mentally with his father that afternoon. If he could make it 
work, he might be able to talk to Linda and Marta the same way. 
It was a shame he and Wyatt wouldn't be able to do the same 
thing, but Wyatt wasn't even part Kryptonian, so it seemed 
unlikely that it would work for him.

"Now what?" Marta asked.

"Now, we all join hands and close our eyes," CJ said. 

"Aren't we supposed to chant or something?" Wyatt asked 
doubtfully. "You know, like those guys on 'Beyond This World', 
when they contacted the spirits?"

"What should we chant?" Linda asked.

"How about 'Ohmm, Ohmm'," CJ suggested. "That sounds pretty much 
like what they did."

"Sounds like my mom's meditation class," Linda said. She 
shrugged. "Okay, let's. But who are we going to try to contact?"

"How about the spirit world," Marta said. "Maybe somebody there 
would like to give us a message."

"Fine," CJ said, trying not to sound impatient at all the 
irrelevant interruptions. A glance out the front of the house 
showed Coach Pilson yawning cavernously. Good. They were boring 
the guy out of his mind.

The children linked hands and Marta started, rather cautiously, 
to chant. CJ closed his eyes and concentrated. 'Linda!'

Nothing. Maybe this wasn't going to work with a half-Kryptonian, 
he thought, but since she seemed to be getting all the super 
powers, at least so far, he wasn't ready to give up yet. Maybe he 
wasn't going at this right. What had he been doing when he had 
contacted his dad?

He'd been scared, he remembered, and desperate to get hold of 
Clark. Maybe he had to try harder. 'Linda!' he thought at her.

And suddenly he was feeling something different. Surprise, 
bordering on shock.

'Linda!' he thought again. 'It's CJ. Don't say anything, okay? I 
just found out my dad and I can do this.'

Slowly, the sensation of surprise faded. 'CJ?' her voice said. It 
was funny how the voice in his head sounded like her real voice.

'Yeah. I wanted to see if we could talk without that creep 
overhearing us. Let's see if I can talk to Marta.'

"If you're not going to chant," Marta said, "this isn't going to 
work."

"Sorry," CJ said. "I can't carry a tune very well."

"You don't have to," Wyatt said practically. "Just hum."

"Okay," CJ said. "Let's try again."

They began to hum with more conviction this time. With more 
confidence, CJ closed his eyes, thinking hard at his sister. 
'Marta! Can you hear me?'

Marta gave a funny squawk. "CJ?"

'Shh! *Think* at me!'

The sense of shock from his sister faded even more quickly than 
it had with Linda. 'What are you doing?'

'We're talking with our minds. Telepathy. I think it's a 
Kryptonian power.'

'Oh wow!' Marta seemed to adjust to the idea with frightening 
speed. 'But does that mean Wyatt can't talk to us?'

'I don't think so. He's not a Kryptonian.'

'Why not try?' Linda's voice said, breaking in on the 
conversation with amazing ease. 'He's our friend. Maybe he can 
learn. Think at him, CJ.'

'Wyatt?' CJ tried.

Wyatt didn't respond. CJ tried again and then shrugged. 'No 
luck.'

Linda was also trying. CJ could hear her almost shouting at him 
with her new skill. Wyatt obviously heard nothing.

'Wyatt!' Marta's mental voice rode over both Linda's and CJ's. 
'Can you hear me?'

Wyatt's head jerked up. "Why are you shouting at me?" he asked, 
giving Marta a somewhat irritated look. "I can hear you just 
fine."

**********

Normally, Bill Henderson regarded the occasional threat received 
by his office as one of the minor annoyances of his job, but 
since he was running for Mayor in this year's election, he had 
been assigned two bodyguards as a matter of course. Between them, 
Clark and he had decided that the first order of the day was to 
remove the immediate complication of an eavesdropper by chasing 
away the pseudo-coach, and allowing Superman to follow him to see 
where he went. It would have to be done in a way as to avoid even 
the hint that anyone might think Pilson was spying on the Kent 
residence, but since the man *was* spying, it was bound to cause 
him some anxiety. Anxiety was good, in Henderson's personal 
opinion, because it was likely to send the spy scurrying to his 
superiors for instruction.

Therefore, shortly after Clark Kent arrived at his family's home, 
Mr. and Mrs. William Henderson strolled casually up the walk to 
the Kent townhouse, accompanied by their two bodyguards. They 
entered the townhouse, and Henderson wasn't surprised to find 
himself greeted with a blast of sound from various sources. 

Lois Lane reclined on the living room sofa, frowning at the 
screen of the computer that was parked on the coffee table beside 
her while the television blasted away in the background. In the 
kitchen, he could hear the sounds of a newscaster's voice, also 
turned up a little too high. From upstairs, a radio was playing 
music at a level likely to cause hearing damage, and over that, 
he could hear the gunfire and explosions of a videogame, 
accompanied by the occasional child's voice raised in a shout of 
triumph or frustration.

For an instant, he wondered how Lois could stand the racket, and 
then he noticed that she was wearing earplugs. An older woman, 
that he belatedly recognized as Clark Kent's mother, emerged from 
the kitchen, two white wads of cotton stuffed in her ears. 
Henderson grinned.

"Got any more of that?" he inquired, making certain not to 
mention what "that" was. No point in tipping off the snooper -- 
assuming that he could actually hear anything intelligible over 
the noise pollution in here.

Martha Kent wordlessly handed him two balls of cotton and he 
stuffed the substance into his ears. Sue Henderson had stuck her 
fingers in her ears, and Martha also presented her with a pair of 
cotton balls. The two bodyguards, a pair of plainclothes police 
officers, had been briefed as to the presence of the snooper in 
relation to the fact that the Hendersons were having dinner with 
the Kents, and the senior officer nodded to his charges. "If you 
don't mind, sir, Joe and I will just go look around the area to 
make certain it's secure."

Henderson nodded. "That's a good idea. We'll be fine in here in 
the meantime."

The two men left, and Clark stepped out of the kitchen. "Hi, 
Bill. Hello, Sue. Why don't you have a seat in the living room 
for a few minutes? Dinner will be ready shortly. I'm helping my 
mom with the last minute stuff. By the way, you were right." He 
nodded toward the kitchen.

It was just as well, Henderson reflected, that his experience on 
the Force had made him adept at understanding directions given to 
him under less than ideal circumstances. Lip reading came in 
handy, sometimes, even now. Sound wasn't completely blocked, of 
course, although everyone's voices now had a muffled quality. He 
nodded to Clark and escorted Sue into the Kents' comfortable 
living room. 

Lois smiled brightly at them and gestured to chairs. "Sit down. 
So, how are things at the Mayor's office, Bill?"

"Not bad," Henderson said. "The Mayoral campaign is in full 
swing. Hizzonor is looking forward to some vacation time."

"I know," Lois said. "I hear he's eyeing the Governor's office, 
next election cycle. I saw your ads on TV this afternoon. I have 
to say, you've got my vote. I wouldn't vote for your opponent if 
he were the last politician on Earth. Of all the sleazy, know-
nothing, self-important windbags --"

Henderson prudently said nothing, although he privately shared 
Lois's appraisal of Henry Carruthers. Five years ago, Lane and 
Kent had brought in enough evidence to indict the top figures of 
Intergang, including, interestingly enough, Mindy Church, the 
wife of Bill Church, the organization's previous boss, who had 
died in prison the year before. It had been a genuine shock to 
everyone concerned that the seeming blond bubblehead was actually 
the coldly conniving brain of the organization.

Henry Carruthers had been loosely linked to Mindy Church, but he 
had sworn that he was unaware of her criminal connections, and 
nothing had ever emerged to disprove it. Still, Henderson, then 
on the verge of retiring from the Force, had harbored his 
suspicions. He'd resolved to keep an eye on Carruthers, at least 
as much as he was able. Now the man was running against him for 
the Mayor's seat.

Lois grimaced slightly and rubbed her back. Henderson frowned 
quickly. "Are you all right, Lois?" he inquired, ignoring Sue's 
elbow to the ribs. Sue wasn't aware of the special nature of the 
babies that Clark's wife carried.

Lois gave a long-suffering sigh. "False labor," she said. "I 
already told Clark that."

Henderson relaxed. "Sorry. I've delivered a few babies in my 
time, but I don't really want to get back into practice with 
triplets."

Lois snorted. "I don't want you to have to!" She gestured with 
her thumb at the front of the house and mouthed, "What's going 
on?"

Henderson stepped to the window and glanced cautiously through 
the curtains in time to see one of his bodyguards straighten up 
and step back from the window of the red car. The vehicle pulled 
away from the curb and vanished down the street at a leisurely 
pace.

"I think my guards told him to move on, since he doesn't live 
around here." Henderson turned toward the television and paused 
with his finger on the sound control. "Do you mind if I turn this 
thing down, now?"

"Go ahead. I think the kids are all up in the playroom, so we'll 
have to wait to turn down the radio in CJ's room." She removed 
the earplugs from her ears as she spoke and gave a sigh of 
relief. "I know it was necessary, but I'd really rather not have 
to do that again for a while."

Martha emerged from the kitchen. "Clark went next door to borrow 
a cup of sugar," she said. "Do you mind if I turn down the radio 
upstairs?"

Lois waved at the stairs. "I was hoping somebody would."

Henderson pulled the cotton from his ears. "I'll do it, if you 
want."

"That's all right." Martha started up the stairs. "I have to call 
the children to come get their dinner, anyway."

Sue grimaced slightly. "Why on Earth would somebody be 
eavesdropping on your house?"

"We're not sure," Lois said. "It may have something to do with 
the Bureau 39 mess a few months ago."

Sue bit her lip. "More people trying to find Valerie and the 
others?"

Henderson put his arm around his wife. He hadn't been free to 
tell her about Clark, but she knew the relationship between 
Valerie, CJ and Linda Lennox. "We aren't sure, but we're going to 
find out. Superman was waiting to follow that guy as soon as Joe 
and Harry chased him off. We're going to get to the bottom of 
this."

Sue nodded, still biting her lip.

"Trust us," Lois said, quietly. "Now, if you can just get rid of 
the phone bug for us, Bill --"

"I'll do my best," Henderson said. "I've removed a few telephone 
bugs in my time. Did you have any repairmen in the house 
recently, specifically in the kitchen?"

"Yeah," Lois said. "This morning. He was fixing the fridge -- 
again. I think we're going to have to spring for a new 
refrigerator soon. Martha says it isn't doing much better than it 
was before."

"Well," Henderson pointed out, "if his main reason for coming in 
was to bug your phone instead of fixing your fridge, it might be 
a case of getting a real repairman to do the job. Do you mind if 
I take a look at the kitchen phone?"

Martha Kent was returning down the steps. "I'll show you where it 
is." 

Henderson followed Clark's mother into the Kent kitchen. There 
was no sign of Clark, which didn't surprise him. Superman was 
undoubtedly following the false Pilson to see where he went. He 
glanced around the room, which was remarkably modern for such an 
old building. Clark had probably done some redesign work on it, 
he thought, or at least someone had. For a moment, he thought a 
bit enviously of the resources that Clark Kent could bring to 
bear on something like the maintenance and repair of his home, 
much less the amount of time he must save in just everyday 
cleaning, and then the humor of the idea hit him and he had to 
repress a snort. One didn't visualize Superman doing laundry, 
polishing silverware or scouring out burned food from a pan. Or, 
for that matter, taking out the garbage, but he probably did all 
those things. Henderson knew for a fact, from several occasions 
when he and his wife had dined here, that Clark Kent was an 
excellent cook. It just went to show that Superman, in his own 
way, was an ordinary man, if only in his own mind.

"Where's the phone?" he inquired.

"Right here." Martha Kent indicated an alcove in the wall. 

Henderson picked up the phone, covering the mouthpiece with one 
hand, as a precaution. "If someone's listening, I think it would 
be best if they think it's an accident," he said quietly. "I'm 
going to make a phone call, and drop the phone. I'll replace it, 
if it really breaks, but it will provide an excuse for the bug to 
stop working."

Martha laughed. "I'm sure we can afford a new phone, Mr. 
Henderson. I'm just glad Clark has you for a friend."

"Bill," he said, aware of a slight sense of embarrassment. "Your 
son has been a good friend to me for years, and so has Lois, even 
if I'd never admit it to her out loud. He's still helping me out. 
Did he tell you about Valerie?"

"No, he never mentioned a Valerie."

That figured. Clark would never talk about a friend's business 
without his permission. "My daughter. Clark mentioned that you 
and your husband are the definitive experts on raising a -- 
gifted -- child. He suggested I talk to you when I can find the 
time."

"Oh." Martha Kent obviously grasped the situation instantly. "Of 
course. We'll be glad to help, if we can."

Henderson nodded. "Let's take care of this, first." He uncovered 
the mouthpiece, began to punch in a number, swore, and dropped 
the phone to the floor, at the same time reaching to disconnect 
the phone cord from its receptacle in the wall. "Now," he said. 
"Let's see what we have here ..."

**********

CJ stared at Wyatt and then at his sister. Wyatt hadn't been able 
to hear him, but he'd picked up Marta without any trouble. That 
was really strange, he thought, but they could figure that part 
out later. He lifted his finger to his lips. "You have to chant," 
he said. "Don't talk. The spirits won't come if you interrupt." 
He looked frantically at his sister. 'Marta!' he thought at her. 
'Tell Wyatt what's happening, and not to talk out loud!'

Marta had an intense frown on her face. 'Don't talk.' CJ heard 
her thinking hard at Wyatt. 'Just listen. I'm talking to you with 
my thoughts. CJ says it's a Kryptonian power.'

Wyatt threw him a wide-eyed look, but CJ saw him press his lips 
together. CJ winked at him.

'Tell him to listen for me,' CJ directed his sister. 'Maybe he 
can hear Linda and me if he knows what to listen for.'

He waited while Marta relayed the message, then looked directly 
at Wyatt. 'Can you hear me, Wyatt?' he thought, as loudly as he 
could manage.

Wyatt had scrunched his face into a grimace of effort, his eyes 
squeezed shut. CJ waited, holding his breath. Wyatt's eyes opened 
wide and he nodded.

'Try talking back,' CJ directed. 'I don't know if you can, but we 
can try to listen for you.'

Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut again. CJ waited hopefully. He 
wasn't sure an instant later if the faint sensation in the back 
of his mind was anything more than his imagination. It was more 
like a tickle in his brain than anything else, but there was 
*something* there. Almost like someone whispering to him too 
softly to understand.

'Can you hear him, Marta?' he asked.

His sister nodded. 'A little. Can you?'

'Sort of. I can't understand what he's saying.'

'I can, but I have to listen hard.'

Linda's "voice" interjected. 'I can hear him a little, but not 
loud enough to understand.'

Wyatt's face was turning back and forth between them, and his 
eyes were wide. He looked at Marta, and CJ again felt the tickle 
in his brain.

'He says maybe he needs to practice,' Marta relayed. 'Wow, this 
is great!'

'Why can Marta hear him when we can't?' Linda said. 'Think at me, 
Wyatt. I'll listen real hard.'

'He says he can hear you when he listens, but it's like you're a 
long ways off,' Marta said. 'But he can hear me real clear. Okay, 
Wyatt, think at Linda.'

Jonny turned his head. "You guys are making too much noise," he 
said. "You're making me miss."

CJ gulped. He should have realized his little brothers would pick 
up the conversation. Fortunately, since they had been humming, 
the guy with the microphone probably hadn't figured out anything 
weird was happening.

"Okay," he said. "We'll hold the séance down in my room. Come on, 
guys." He picked up the paperweight and got to his feet.

Marta glanced through the wall at the street. 'He's driving away! 
A couple of guys just told him to leave!'

"Cops?" CJ asked aloud.

"I don't know. They're a couple of guys in suits."

Now that he was paying attention to something besides the snooper 
and the strange telepathic conversation, CJ was aware of voices 
downstairs. The volume on his mother's soap opera was suddenly 
lowered. He listened as they gathered their props and gave a 
sudden sigh of relief. "Mr. Henderson is downstairs. That 
explains it."

"What does?" Linda asked.

"Mr. Henderson is the Deputy Mayor, remember?" CJ said. "He's 
probably going to be the next Mayor if he beats the guy running 
against him. Those two guys were probably his bodyguards."

"Why does he have bodyguards?" Marta asked.

"Don't you ever listen? There's crazy people all over the place. 
Sometimes Mr. Henderson gets threats from them, 'specially since 
he's been running for Mayor. He used to be a cop, remember."

For once his sister didn't take offence at the implied criticism. 
"Oh. Well, I guess we can put this stuff away. CJ, you better 
take Dad's paperweight back before something happens to it."

"Okay." CJ reclaimed his flashlight and switched it off. "Let's 
go down to my room. I hope we can talk to Dad about this, later. 
Maybe he knows how to help Wyatt do this better."

The radio in his bedroom cut off as suddenly as the television 
had, and CJ descended the steps from the attic playroom in time 
to see his Grandmother Martha emerge from his bedroom.

"I guess Mr. Henderson's guards chased the guy away," he 
remarked.

Martha Kent nodded, a slight smile on her face. "My goodness, CJ, 
you don't miss anything around here, do you?"

"Marta saw them," he said. "Where did Dad go?"

"He's following Mr. Pilson to see where he goes. We'll be having 
dinner in about half an hour, and Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are 
here, so you and the others should wash up."

"All right, Grandma," CJ said. "How is Wyatt going to get home?"

"Your dad will give him a lift when he gets back. Linda's mother 
called a little while ago. She's going to be late, so Linda will 
be eating here. We'll get Wyatt a little snack so he won't be the 
only one not eating, but we don't want to ruin his dinner."


"Okay, I'll tell her," CJ said. "If you ask me, Wyatt likes the 
food here better than at his house."

His grandmother's eyes crinkled. "Maybe, but I don't think you 
should tell his mother that."

CJ shook his head. "I won't," he said. "It might hurt her 
feelings." He held up the paperweight. "I just have to put this 
back in Dad's study. We borrowed it for a séance, but now we 
don't need it anymore." 

"A séance?" Martha's eyes crinkled at the corners again, and the 
corners of her mouth twitched. "I see."

"I'll explain later," CJ said. "We weren't just playing or 
anything."

"Oh?"

"No." CJ shook his head. "I need to ask Dad something, too. 
Something pretty weird happened."

"Weird?" his grandmother asked.

"Uh -- yeah." CJ hesitated. "Grandma, did you know that 
Kryptonians can talk to each other with telepathy?"

"Where did you hear that word?" Martha asked.

"I saw it in a book. It means communicating with thoughts. Did 
you know that Kryptonians can do that?"

"I think your dad mentioned that the New Kryptonians could. Why?"

"Marta, Linda and I can, too. We can talk to Wyatt with it, but 
he can't talk back, yet -- except to Marta. She can hear him."

Martha Kent's eyes widened slightly. "You're not pretending, are 
you, CJ?"

"Of course not!" CJ was slightly outraged at the suggestion. 
"That's why I wanted to talk to Dad!"

"Oh my!" his grandmother said. She glanced over her shoulder at 
the stairs that descended to the house's first floor. "I have to 
finish getting dinner ready, CJ. Go ahead and put the paperweight 
back and tell the other children to wash up. You're going to be 
taking your dinners up to the playroom tonight. I'll be sure to 
tell your father that you need to talk to him as soon as I see 
him."

**********

The red car moved slowly down Hyperion Avenue until it was a good 
two blocks from the Kent townhouse, and then Pilson made an 
abrupt right turn onto Tulip. Floating above him just within the 
lowest layer of the cloud level, Clark followed his progress with 
nothing to betray to anyone who might be following the false 
coach that anyone had any interest in him at all.

The car pulled sharply to the side of the road, and Clark watched 
as the coach extracted a cellular phone and hit the speed dial.

The phone had rung only twice when someone answered.

"Hello?" a cultured female voice said.

"This is Bob," Pilson said. "A couple of Henderson's guards just 
chased me away from the house."

"Did they suspect you?" the voice asked sharply.

"I don't think so. Henderson's running for his boss's seat. I 
think they were just being careful."

"Very well. Your report?"

"Nothing," Pilson said, a faint note of disgust in his voice. "I 
got an earful of some sickening soap opera, and my ears are still 
ringing from the radio. The kids were doing homework, and 
Henderson and his wife showed up for dinner. Probably to try to 
get the Daily Planet on his side for his campaign."

"You're sure they didn't suspect you?" the woman's voice said 
again. "You spoke to the boy during class today, did you not?"

"Yeah. He didn't act like he was suspicious. He's a kid, for 
Pete's sake. Eleven years old. He isn't likely to pick up on 
anything." The man's voice became faintly envious. "Hell of a 
pitcher, though. Said his grandfather taught him."

"Never mind his sports acumen," the voice said coldly, "and must 
I remind you to keep a guard on your language?"

"Sorry," the man muttered.

"You will continue your observation tomorrow in class. My contact 
indicated that he believes the boy to be one of our targets. If 
we can't verify it one way or the other, we'll have to take 
further steps to be sure."

"I understand," Pilson said. "What do you want me to do about 
listening in? Shall I go back after Henderson leaves?"

"No, the car has been noticed. You must do nothing to raise their 
suspicions. You'll be given instructions, tomorrow." The phone 
went dead.

Clark waited, watching. It seemed unlikely that he was going to 
find out much more tonight, but he might as well see where the 
man went.

Pilson seemed to be shuffling papers for a moment, then he dialed 
another number into his cellular phone. Clark waited, listening.

"This is Gemini," he said quietly. "The surveillance of the Kent 
home turned up nothing, so far."

"Acknowledged," a male voice said. "And the other party?" 

"She believes the oldest child to be Kryptonian," Pilson said.

"Any indication that the suspicion may be correct?"

Clark frowned. Tonight was definitely a night for deja vu. The 
voice sounded vaguely familiar, but the distortion of the phone 
was just enough to prevent him from making a positive 
identification. Still...

"No, sir," Pilson said. "The information doesn't support the 
theory. The child was apparently the illegitimate son of a Kent 
cousin, since deceased. The date of his birth makes it unlikely 
that he could be one of the Kryptonian offspring; it's several 
months too soon -- if there really are any, that is. That Cash 
guy is a nutcase if I ever met one. As for the clone theory, 
apparently, the Kents adopted the child before the raid on the 
island."

"There was the Luthor clone's claim that the child is the missing 
Superman clone," the voice said.

"According to the STAR Labs DNA analysis, the boy is human," 
Pilson said. "My contact gave me a copy of the report."

"Who signed the report?" the voice asked.

"Bernard Klein," Pilson said. "He's a bit of an absent-minded 
professor, but the man's credentials are impeccable. Apparently, 
according to my sources, the Kents had the analysis done to prove 
to all concerned that the child was normal. Apparently, with the 
attempts on Mrs. Kent and the child, they were worried that there 
would be some doubt. I'll fax you the report from the hotel."

"Very good," the voice said.

"Any further orders?"

"Continue in your position. It's vital that we locate the 
target."

"Yes sir." A pause. "I don't understand why everybody in that 
house hasn't gone deaf. The noise level in there is incredible."

"You're certain they don't know they were being observed?"

"I'm certain, sir."

"Hmm. Well, they do have four children. That would make anybody's 
house noisy."

"Apparently they also have two friends who spend the afternoon 
there while their mothers work, so I get the point." A pause. 
"The videogame sounded interesting, though."

"Forget the videogame, Maxwell. Concentrate on your job."

"Naturally, sir. But I'd like to try that game on my spare time."

Clark clenched his jaw. Whatever was going on here, it was 
obvious that Pilson was playing a double role and the talk of the 
'target' was disturbing. He heard the man sign off and watched as 
the red car pulled away from the curb.

The red sports car wended its way across the city to the Apollo 
Hotel, and Clark watched as Pilson parked his car in the hotel 
lot and made his way to the entrance.

After a moment, he took out his cellular phone and hit the speed 
dial for his home. The phone rang twice before someone picked it 
up.

"Hello?" his mother's voice said.

"Hi, Mom," he said. "I'm going to be a while. Make my excuses for 
me, will you?"

"Don't worry," his mother's voice said. "I'll take care of it. 
Did you find anything?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure what it is."

"Well, all right -- but be careful."

"I will," he said.

**********

When CJ and the other children filed into the kitchen to collect 
their dinner, his grandmother had their plates lined up on the 
kitchen table. "I called your mother, Wyatt," she said. "Clark 
got called away, so he won't be able to drive you home until 
later. Your mom said it was all right if you ate dinner here. 
Clark will drive you home later, or, if he's delayed, I'll do 
it."

Wyatt's face lit up in a wide smile. "Okay," he said. "Mom was 
gonna have meatloaf anyway."

"Well, we're having hamburgers and French fries tonight," Martha 
said. "I hope that's okay."

Wyatt nodded vigorously, reaching for the ketchup bottle. The 
children applied their condiments of choice and headed back for 
the playroom with their plates and tall glasses of milk.

CJ settled on one of the chairs at the kid-sized table in the 
playroom, and Wyatt, Linda and Marta took the others. Jimmy and 
Jonny resumed their places in front of the television. Jonny took 
a huge bite of his hamburger, licked ketchup off his fingers and 
reached for the game controller again.

"Hey," CJ said. "Remember what Dad said. Make sure your hands are 
clean. He isn't going to replace the controller again if you ruin 
it."

Jonny paused, reached for one of the paper towels that had 
accompanied them back upstairs, and wiped his hands off. The game 
resumed.

CJ glanced through the wall at the street in front of their 
townhouse, but the red car had not returned. He picked up his 
hamburger and took a bite. He hadn't felt very hungry while Coach 
Pilson had been spying on them, but now his appetite had made a 
miraculous recovery.

He glanced at his little brothers, completely immersed in their 
game, and leaned forward so that Wyatt, as well as the others, 
could hear him. "We need to practice this stuff," he said. "We 
know what's gonna happen to us the older we get, and since 
Wyatt's in on it, it might be a real good thing if he could hear 
us too -- and us him."

"Yeah," Wyatt said, "but how are we gonna do it without the 
little kids hearing us? They heard us before."

"Maybe we were just too close," CJ said. "Let's finish eating, 
and then we could go down to the basement. Grandma won't mind, if 
we tell her what's going on."

"I guess your grandma knows about the telepathy stuff, huh?" 
Linda said. "I wasn't sure."

"Well, yeah -- sure. She and Grandpa Kent *raised* Dad, you know. 
They found his ship when he first came to Earth."

"Wow," Wyatt said in a low voice. "I'd sure like to see it 
someday."

"Dad got it back from Intergang when Mom and him busted it up," 
CJ said. "Grandpa Kent has it hidden. Maybe we can ask Dad about 
it, sometime. Anyhow, what do you think?"

"About practicing? Yeah, we probably should," Linda said. "It 
would sure be great if we could do it if one of us gets in 
trouble some time. Coach Pilson was spying on us for some reason. 
Somebody might be looking for us, still. Bureau 39 or somebody."

"Yeah," Marta said. "If they come after us again, I'm gonna be 
sure we can yell for help without them knowing."

"Well, I called Dad by accident this afternoon," CJ said. "Maybe 
we can find other kids like us that way, too. Dad knows about 
five others, so far. There's four in Smallville, and one here in 
Metropolis."

"Maybe that's all there are," Wyatt said.

"Let's hope so," Linda said. "You never know when you're going to 
get somebody like Biff. Wouldn't it be awful if *he* had super 
powers?"

"Well, he doesn't," Wyatt said, practically. "CJ beat him at arm-
wrestling. Boy, was he mad!"

"Yeah, I heard about that after I came to the school," Linda 
said. "It served him right." She looked admiringly at CJ in the 
way that made his stomach feel funny. He grinned, a little 
embarrassed. He knew he wasn't supposed to like girls, but that 
was before he'd met Linda. Some of his friends kidded him about 
it a little, but he thought they were sort of jealous. Linda was 
pretty, and she was a heck of a good shortstop. She'd told CJ 
that she was trying hard not to use any of her super strength or 
speed when she played, because Superman had warned her about it, 
and told her that it was good practice to learn how to control 
her powers.

"Biff's a jerk," Linda added. "Yesterday he knocked my books out 
of my hands in the hall."

CJ sat up, bristling at once. Linda shook her head. "It was 
okay," she said. "Red -- you know, that sixth grade guy that you 
sometimes help with his homework -- picked 'em up and told Biff 
to leave me alone or else."

CJ made a mental note to thank Red the next time he saw him. He'd 
been surprised to realize that Biff was scared of Red, even 
though he made nasty remarks about how his former friend was 
getting to be a brain now that he was passing his classes. In 
spite of it, Biff never made the mistake of getting in Red's face 
anymore -- ever since he'd turned up with a black eye one morning 
and a flimsy story about having tripped on the way to school. 
Since CJ had seen the two of them facing off before school, he'd 
had a pretty good idea where Biff's facial decoration had come 
from, but he hadn't said anything.

"Red's okay," Wyatt said casually. "He's got a lot smarter than 
he used to be. Look, why don't I try thinking at the rest of you? 
The kids aren't gonna pick up on that if you can hardly hear me."

"I can hear you okay," Marta objected. "I don't know why CJ and 
Linda can't."

CJ had his own ideas about that, but if Marta could tell when 
Wyatt was thinking at her -- and he and Linda could tell when he 
was thinking at them, even if they couldn't tell what he was 
saying -- maybe Wyatt could get better at it if they practiced. 

"Okay," he said. "Think at me."

The two boys stared into each other's eyes, and again CJ felt the 
faint tickle at the back of his mind that he thought was Wyatt 
trying to communicate with him. All at once, his friend reached 
out a hand and grasped his arm.

'... Hear me ...' Wyatt's voice said faintly in his mind.

CJ jumped so hard he nearly fell off his chair.

"I heard that!" he stuttered.

"Really?" Linda leaned forward. "Touch me and see if I can hear 
you, Wyatt!"

Wyatt's eyes had widened, and a smile of triumph lit his face. 
"Okay." He reached out to touch Linda, and CJ again felt the 
tickle in his mind, but this time it was almost audible. '... 
Hear what I'm saying? ...' The words were a faint whisper in his 
brain.

Linda nodded vigorously. "This is *so* cool!"

CJ stuffed the last of his hamburger into his mouth, glancing at 
his younger brothers. "Let's go down to the basement," he said. 
"We have to test this out!"

**********

Lois glanced up at the whoosh that told her that her husband had 
landed in the back yard. An instant later, the front door opened 
and Clark stepped in. William Henderson glanced briefly at him. 
"Did you get your story?"

"More or less," Clark said. "Sorry I had to leave like that."

"Oh, that's all right," Sue Henderson said. "I guess it must be 
par for the course for a reporter. Sort of like being married to 
a cop." She smiled at her husband. "Have I mentioned that I'm 
awfully glad that you retired from the force, Bill? You may have 
odd hours as a politician, but at least it isn't likely that 
people will be shooting at you."

"Not as much, anyway," Henderson said "Did you happen to see my 
bodyguards out there anywhere, Clark?"

"They're sitting in their car, eating sandwiches," Clark said. "I 
suspect they're not too anxious to come in here again with all 
the racket that was going on the last time. I hope you had a good 
dinner."

"Excellent, as usual," Henderson said. "I see where you got your 
cooking talent. Martha's a terrific cook."

Martha Kent smiled. "Thank you."

"Any problems here after I left?" Clark asked.

"No. I took the bug off your phone," Bill said. "I'll pass it to 
some friends of mine, the first chance I get. I also checked your 
other extensions, but they were clean."

"Thanks," Clark said. "Just to keep you in the loop, I talked to 
Superman before I came back. He followed Pilson and eavesdropped 
on a couple of cell phone conversations he had. Gave me a fax 
address, too. Maybe we can get Jim Olsen to trace it for us."

Henderson nodded. "I wish we'd had Olsen working for the 
Department when I was on the force," he said. "Best computer whiz 
kid I ever met."

Lois looked around at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and 
saw that CJ, Marta, Linda and Wyatt were descending so quickly 
that Wyatt almost missed a step. "Do you kids need something?"

"Um -- not exactly," CJ said. "We're going down into the basement 
for a little bit. We need to find something."

Clark turned to look at them as well and then raised an eyebrow 
at Lois. "All right. Just don't stay there too long. This is a 
school night. I have to drive Wyatt home in a little while."

"Sure," CJ said. He led the way through the kitchen door, and it 
swung shut behind the four older children.

"Wonder what they're up to," Lois remarked.

Clark shrugged. "They're good kids," he said. "I'm not worried."

"Clark," Sue Henderson said, "do you think that Valerie could be 
in any danger?"

Clark shook his head. "From what Superman overheard, whoever the 
second group is, they aren't even sure the Kryptonian hybrids 
aren't a figment of Cash's imagination. Just be sure she doesn't 
do anything out of the ordinary and I think she's probably safe. 
She'd better keep an eye out for anyone paying any unusual 
attention to her, though -- just to be sure."

"And if they are?"

"She needs to be sure no one manages to get her alone," Clark 
said. "Tell her to --" He hesitated. "Tell her to go to CJ for 
help if she thinks she's in danger at school. He can call 
Superman for help. I'll warn him -- if that's all right with 
you."

Henderson's eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded. "I guess we're 
all going to have to stick together, this time."

"Yeah." Clark nodded. "Let's not panic over it, though. We don't 
know what's behind it."

"If it's any kind of danger for our daughter," Sue said quietly, 
"I don't want to take any chances!"

"I don't blame you," Lois said. "We'll let you know what we find 
out as soon as we find out, ourselves, Sue. That's a promise."

Clark took a seat next to his wife. "How are you feeling now? You 
were having false labor earlier."

She shrugged. "It's eased up for a bit. I can't say I'm sorry."

"No, I imagine not." Sue Henderson shook her head in sympathy. "I 
can't imagine being pregnant with twins, much less triplets."

"Don't even try," Lois said, a trifle grimly. "This is absolutely 
the last time I'm doing this."

Clark smiled faintly. "I agree. We planned on three kids, 
counting CJ. Jimmy was kind of a bonus, but I guess Mother Nature 
had other plans."

"Mother Nature doesn't have to spend the last four months of the 
pregnancy feeling like a beached whale," Lois said. "If these 
three have to be delivered by Caesarian, I'm going to have Dr. 
Klein make sure that this is it."

"I can't argue," Clark said. "In fact, I think it's a good idea." 
He lifted his head slightly, almost certain that he'd heard a 
voice, but realized a second later that no one else had heard it. 
It must be something that only Superman could hear. He listened, 
but whatever it had been was gone.

Henderson checked his watch. "Well, as interesting as this 
evening has been," he said, "I have to be at City Hall early 
tomorrow, so I think Sue and I should say goodnight. Let me know 
if -- or when -- our friends make their next move."

"We will," Clark said. "If you don't mind, Superman said he'd 
like to drop by tomorrow to speak to Valerie. And tell her to go 
to CJ if --"

"We will," Henderson said.

"Clark --" Sue Henderson hesitated. "I know CJ is -- like 
Valerie," she said cautiously. "Was he premature, or something? 
He's at least two months older than Valerie." She stopped 
quickly. "I'm sorry. If this is none of my business, just say 
so."

Clark and Lois looked at each other. This question had been bound 
to come up, and they had thoroughly discussed how to answer it 
without exactly telling a lie. That didn't mean, however, that 
they had to tell the whole truth. CJ and Linda had told them some 
time ago that the story of his origin was no one's business but 
theirs. Linda already knew, and both children had decided that 
nobody else needed to know -- at least for now, and maybe never. 
The seriousness with which they had approached the matter had 
startled Clark, and at the same time reassured him. Linda was 
already watching out for CJ's welfare. It looked as if his first 
hunch had been correct. Linda was almost certainly destined to 
become part of the Kent clan a few years down the line -- which 
wasn't a bad thing, he thought. If he had met Lois when they were 
both younger, they might not have had to go through so much 
before they had finally gotten together.

"Um -- well," Clark said carefully, "I'm afraid we misled 
everyone about CJ in order to protect him. CJ is a full 
Kryptonian, not a hybrid. Apparently he's a close relative of 
Superman's."

"I don't understand," Sue said, "but he does kind of look like 
Superman, now that you mention it."

"Kryptonians apparently have some very strange customs," Martha 
said, calmly. "At least by our standards. From what we 
understand, CJ is actually Superman's sibling. Younger, of 
course. There was some talk of stasis chambers and so forth. I 
didn't understand it all."

"Could CJ have been left for Superman by the New Kryptonians -- 
maybe an embryo that had been frozen to be revived later?" Sue 
wondered. "I know infertile couples sometimes do that kind of 
thing."

Lois shrugged. "We weren't given much in the way of details, and 
at the time we were too thankful to have a child to ask 
questions. Anyhow, CJ has asked us not to talk about what we do 
know." 

"I guess I can understand that," Sue remarked. "No child wants to 
be different."

"Maybe that was how so many of them were saved from Krypton's 
explosion," Henderson said.

"It could be. I guess we'll never be able to ask them, now." Sue 
gave a tiny shrug. "It's just as well. Some of them were all 
right, but Nor's followers --" She broke off, and Clark noticed 
that Henderson had clasped her hand. She smiled at him. "It's all 
right, Bill. It was a long time ago, and if it hadn't happened, 
we wouldn't have Valerie."

Her husband nodded, looking a little grim. "I wouldn't want to 
give her up," he said. "But I didn't cry when Cash's crowd gassed 
Jen Mai and the others."

"I don't think any of us did," Lois said. "That was probably the 
only useful thing he ever did in his life."

"Anyway," Clark said, feeling that a change of subject was a good 
idea, "the less said about it, the better. Kryptonians are 
telepathic, so CJ can call Superman for help if Valerie needs 
it."

"I remember something about that," Henderson said. "That's 
convenient." Again, he glanced at his watch. "We'd better go. I 
guess I'll probably see you tomorrow, Clark. I have to appear at 
a ribbon-cutting ceremony in the afternoon. Hizzoner has the 
flu."

Another voice was speaking softly, not far away, but it didn't 
sound alarmed. He must, Clark thought, be picking up a 
conversation in the townhouse next door, and wondered for a 
second why his super-hearing had kicked in. Another voice spoke, 
louder than the first, and suddenly he had to restrain himself 
from jumping to his feet. That had been Linda Lennox's voice, and 
he wasn't hearing it with his ears.

**********
 
"This is really weird," Wyatt said. 

CJ had to agree. After Wyatt had touched them while trying to 
talk to them with telepathy, CJ had been able to hear him, and so 
had Linda. It was like they were all suddenly on the same channel 
or something. Marta could still hear him much more clearly than 
CJ and Linda could, but Wyatt's "voice" was getting louder all 
the time.

He pushed forward one of the boxes that his parents had placed 
here for storage and took a seat on it, facing the other three. 
Linda looked up at the roof over their heads. "Do you think we're 
far enough away?" she asked.

CJ shrugged eloquently. "How do I know? Dad heard me this 
afternoon while I was here and he was at work, but maybe that was 
because I was thinking *at* him."

"The only thing we can do," Marta said, "is to try to think just 
at each other. Besides, they're playing a videogame. They 
probably won't even notice."

That, of course, was true, CJ thought. Jonny and Jimmy had been 
known to miss calls for dinner when they were absorbed in a 
videogame. It really irritated his mom, although he had seen her 
do the same thing when she was working on a story.

"Maybe they won't," he agreed, cautiously. "Come on. We don't 
have much time. Wyatt, think at me. See if I can still hear you."

'Okay,' Wyatt's voice said immediately in his head. His voice was 
soft, more like a loud whisper than an actual voice, but it was 
definitely louder than it had been upstairs.

'Hey!' Linda said, 'I *heard* that! Way to go, Wyatt!'

Marta had a wide grin on her face. 'I *knew* Wyatt could do it!' 
she said smugly. 'He just had to figure out how to tune in to the 
rest of us!'
She and Wyatt exchanged a grin. 'This is great! I wonder how far 
apart we can be and still hear each other.'

"We'll have to figure that out later," CJ said, checking his 
watch. It was a Batman watch, with the Caped Crusader peering 
menacingly out of the watch's face at him, and the eyes glowed in 
the dark. The effect was satisfyingly scary. "It's almost time 
for Dad to drive Wyatt home, and I think I hear your mom's car," 
he added to Linda.

Linda nodded. "That's it, all right. Mom says she has to get the 
muffler fixed. I guess we'd better go upstairs."

They emerged from the basement door in time to hear Mr. Henderson 
and his wife saying good night. CJ heard the door open, and then 
the voices of the adults as Linda's mother was introduced to Mrs. 
Henderson.

"Good night, Clark," Henderson said. "I'll let you know if I find 
anything useful."

"Thanks," Clark said. "I'll tell CJ what we've arranged about 
Valerie."

CJ pushed open the kitchen door and let Linda through ahead of 
him. Such courtesy, of course, wasn't necessary for his sister, 
but he held it for Marta and Wyatt anyway, since he figured his 
dad would give him one of his disapproving looks if he let it 
close in Marta's face.

"There they are," Martha Kent said. "Right on time."

Caroline Lennox smiled at them. "I'm sorry I'm so late," she 
said, turning to CJ's parents. "I was held up by a couple of 
last-minute clients."

"That's all right," Clark said. "Better get your stuff, Wyatt. 
I'm going to drive you home in a minute."

"Okay, Mr. Kent," Wyatt said. "It's up in CJ's room. I'll be 
right back."

"Hello, CJ," Carolyn said, turning to him. 

CJ gave her his best smile. "Hello, Ms. Lennox," he said, 
politely. It always struck him as funny that Linda's mother was 
barely taller than Linda, and that at nearly eleven, he was the 
same height as she was.

Carolyn smiled at the four of them. "I hope you all had a good 
time. Better go get your school things and we'll go, Linda."

"Okay, Mom." Linda ran up the stairs, passing Wyatt who was 
headed back down.

"I'm ready. Mr. Kent," Wyatt said.

"Okay, then, come on." CJ's father motioned him toward the door. 
Wyatt glanced over his shoulder at CJ and Marta.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

'I'll meet you in front of your apartment house,' CJ said.

'Okay,' Wyatt said. Clark gave him an odd look and then looked 
back at CJ and Marta.

"You two go get ready for bed, but don't go to sleep before I get 
back," he said. "I need to talk to you about a couple of things." 

"Sure," CJ said.

Clark turned to Linda's mother. "Before you go, Lois needs to 
have a word with you. There's been a small complication that's 
come up about the kids, and you need to know what's happening."

"Oh?" Carolyn asked.

"We're checking it out, and Superman is on it, too, but we want 
to keep you in the loop," Clark said. "I'll be back in a few 
minutes and I'll try to answer any questions you might have that 
Lois can't -- if any," he added. "Come on, Wyatt."

"All right," Carolyn said.

Linda was coming back down the stairs. "I guess I'll see you 
tomorrow," she said to CJ.

"Why don't you, CJ and Marta sit down in the living room," Clark 
added. "You three need to know what's happening, too. I'll fill 
Wyatt in on the way home."

"Okay," CJ said. "Come on, guys."

**********

Wyatt and Clark walked out to the Cherokee and Clark unlocked the 
passenger door for the child. He was still a little stunned at 
what had happened back there. He had heard CJ casually 
communicating with Wyatt, indisputably a human boy, by telepathy. 
There had been a few cases in his long relationship with Lois 
that the two of them had communicated in such a fashion, so he 
knew it was possible, but it had never been a regular thing, and 
had only occurred under stress. It was obvious that the children 
had gone much farther with the ability than he and Lois ever had. 
Could he and Lois have done more with it if they had made an 
effort, or could it be because the children were so young, and 
more adaptable than the adults?

He got into the driver's seat while Wyatt was fastening his 
safety belt, and started the engine. "All fastened in?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Wyatt said.

Clark glanced over his shoulder and pulled out onto the dark 
street. "I guess you guys figured out something this evening," 
Clark said. "I heard you talking to CJ in there."

Wyatt nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty cool."

"Yeah, it is," Clark said. "I guess I don't have to tell you not 
to talk about it to anybody else, do I?"

Wyatt shook his head. "'Course not."

'Can you hear me, now?' he asked.

'Sure.' Wyatt's mental voice was like a soft whisper in his 
brain. Not as loud or clear as CJ's had been, but the boy was 
definitely talking to him.

"That's amazing," he said. "I knew Kryptonians could communicate 
with each other with their thoughts, but I didn't know regular 
Earth people could, too. How did you learn?"

"I couldn't, right away," Wyatt said, candidly, "except for 
Marta. I could hear her without any trouble."

If Clark hadn't been paying close attention to his driving, he 
might have gone off the road at that remark. "Marta?" he asked, 
keeping his voice level with an effort.

"Sure," Wyatt said.

"I see," he said, and he thought he did. "Want to tell me how it 
happened?"

"Sure," Wyatt said, and went on to explain what had happened up 
in the playroom. Clark drove without speaking until the boy 
finished.

"You know, Wyatt," he said, "you're the first Earth person to be 
able to do that, as far as I know. I've communicated with my wife 
a few times, but never like you kids have managed."

"Yeah?" Wyatt said. "That's good, isn't it?"

"I think so," Clark said. "If any of you ever get into trouble, 
you might be able to call CJ or Marta for help."

"Yeah," Wyatt said. "We were thinking about that. Is Coach Pilson 
part of those Bureau 39 guys, Mr. Kent?"

"We don't know yet," Clark said. "Mr. Henderson and Mr. Olsen are 
helping me to try to find out. You be careful around him, Wyatt. 
We don't know what he's up to, but if he finds out what you can 
do, it could be dangerous for you."

"Yeah," Wyatt said. "I'm not gonna tell anybody. The kids think 
I'm kinda weird anyway, 'cause I get good grades and got jumped 
ahead a grade. The only reason I don't get picked on anymore is 
'cause I'm friends with CJ. And 'cause I'm the team's best 
catcher," he added. "Nobody else can catch for CJ like me."

Clark grinned at the boy's complete lack of modesty, although he 
didn't blame Wyatt. "Well, if anybody knew, they might guess 
about CJ and Marta and the rest of us, too," he said. "That 
mustn't happen."

"Yeah," Wyatt said. "I won't say anything, but I'm gonna practice 
this until I'm as good at it as the others. It's kinda cool to be 
able to talk to somebody and nobody else knows it."

"I guess it is," Clark agreed. "I want you to do something for 
me, if you would."

"Sure," Wyatt said.

"After I've dropped you off at home, I want you to wait for half 
an hour and try to call me. I want to see if this works at a 
distance. If I don't answer you, try to call Marta. Okay?"

"Okay," Wyatt said.

"As for what's going on now, after Mr. Henderson's guards chased 
Coach Pilson away, I followed him," Clark said. "I overheard him 
reporting to someone by cell phone. The other person said 
something about thinking CJ was one of the Kryptonian kids, so 
they're trying to decide if he is. If Coach Pilson tries to get 
him alone -- or if anyone else at school does -- I'd like you to 
try to watch where they go, and call me -- but *don't* let anyone 
know what you're doing. I don't want you getting in trouble, 
too."

"Okay," Wyatt said. "I can do that."

**********

After the door closed behind Linda and her mother, Lois 
stretched. "I think it's time I went upstairs to bed."

"Okay," Clark said. "Stay right there, and I'll give you a lift."

Lois did so, grimacing as he picked her up lightly from the sofa. 
"I'm leaving a permanent dent in the sofa cushions," she 
remarked.

"I doubt it," Clark said, with a slight grin, "but even if you 
do, hanging onto those babies as long as possible is worth it."

"I don't see how you can stand me like this," she said, gesturing 
to her abdomen. "I'm as clumsy as an ox, and --"

"And it's only temporary," Clark said. He was ascending the 
stairs with her held effortlessly in his arms. "At the most it 
will only be a few weeks, and when it's over we'll have three 
healthy babies. And you'll have your usual trim figure back in a 
few months. Besides, you're always beautiful to me."

"I'm worried about the stretched skin," she fretted. "A friend of 
mine had twins, and the skin on her stomach never did go back to 
the way it was."

"If it doesn't," he said, "we can talk about doing whatever it 
takes to fix the situation, but I'm betting it will."

"And," she asked as he set her carefully on her feet by the 
bathroom that opened off their bedroom, "what makes you so sure 
of that?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "Completely, that is. But Dr. Klein said 
the reason your stretch marks disappeared after the other kids 
was because of the effects of my aura on you. It might work the 
same way with the stretched skin. If it doesn't, we'll fix it 
some other way."

Slightly mollified, she turned to enter the bathroom to prepare 
for bed. "Okay, but I'll hold you to that."

Clark shook his head, smiling slightly, and ambled over to his 
dresser to get his sleeping shorts. These days, Lois's nighttime 
routine took twice as long as it used to, and he usually waited 
for the children and his mother to finish in the other bathroom, 
before going in there to shower before bed. While he waited, he 
went to lean on the windowsill, looking out at the night sky.

As usual, the haze of city lights hid the stars and he casually 
scanned the city for sounds that might tell him that Superman was 
needed. From somewhere he heard the warble of a police siren, and 
from somewhere else the wail of a fire truck on its way to some 
emergency or other, but he had learned over the years that the 
people of his city could take care of themselves most of the 
time. Once he had figured that out, Superman's presence at minor 
emergencies had become more of a rarity, and it enabled him to 
spend more time with his family.

The odd tickling sensation in his brain was more of an annoyance 
at first, and then the tickle resolved itself into the faintest 
of whispers. '... Hear me?'

It was Wyatt. It had to be. The whisper was almost recognizable 
as the boy's voice. 'I hear you.'

He felt the flood of triumph in Wyatt's mind before the boy 
replied with words. 'I didn't think it was going to work. I've 
been trying for a couple of minutes. Your voice isn't too loud, 
but I can hear you.'

'Okay,' Clark said. 'Thanks. I guess the test worked, all right. 
Good night. We'll talk more about this tomorrow.'

'Good night,' the boy's voice whispered.

And then, as Wyatt's whisper disappeared into silence, another 
voice, one that he had never heard before, said suddenly in his 
head, 'Who are you? Who said that?'

Clark cut off the telepathic channel as if he had been burned. 
The voice had been young, loud and male. Definitely not Valerie 
Henderson, he thought. Somewhere nearby was another 
human/Kryptonian hybrid who had picked up on the conversation.

Carefully, he reached out again, questing. 'Who are *you*?' he 
asked.

For long moments, silence answered him. Then the voice said, 'I 
thought I was going crazy! *Am* I going crazy? Who are you?'

'First tell me who you are.'

For an instant, he thought he wasn't going to get an answer, and 
then the voice said, 'I've got to go.' The voice, and the faint 
feeling of emotion behind the words, snapped off as sharply as a 
wire being cut.

**********

CJ poured maple syrup on his pancakes and tore into his 
breakfast. Clark shoveled scrambled eggs on to the plates of his 
daughter and younger sons, added bacon and finished pouring milk 
into their glasses. Lois was still asleep, and he intended to see 
to it that she slept as long as she could. The three growing 
babies had made rest very difficult for her for the last several 
months, so when she was able to sleep, Clark made every effort to 
see to it that she was not disturbed.

Today, fortunately, was his day off, which was just as well, 
because there were several things that he needed to take care of. 
Perry had tried to arrange it so that he could take the days that 
he wanted whenever he found it necessary. Now that both of them 
acknowledged that Perry knew his secret, and there was no longer 
any necessity to pretend that Perry didn't know, he had to 
acknowledge that it was a lot easier on both of them. Why they 
hadn't simply been straightforward with each other before he now 
couldn't quite understand. There hadn't been any question in his 
mind for years now that Perry could be trusted.

In any case, as long as he held up his share of the bargain and 
contributed stories on a regular basis, Perry pretty much let him 
do as he chose. Today, he needed to attend the exhibition game 
between Metro Elementary and Eastside. Not only was CJ the 
starting pitcher, Clark wanted to look over the situation with 
Coach Pilson, or Maxwell, or whatever his real name was, without 
that individual being aware of it.

Martha Kent stepped into the kitchen, glancing at the clock. 
"Okay, kids, ten minute warning. Jimmy, when you're finished, I 
want you to go up and put on the clothes that I've laid out on 
your bed."

"Okay, Grandma," Jimmy said.

CJ finished shoveling pancakes into his mouth, drained the glass 
of milk, wiped his hands on his napkin and stood up. "Done," he 
announced, picking up his plate and silverware and depositing 
them in the sink as he spoke. "I'm going to get my stuff and wait 
in the car."

Clark nodded. "I'll be right there," he said. "Marta, you and 
Jonny need to hurry."

"I'm done," Marta said. "Hurry up, Jonny."

"I'm done, too," the six-year-old informed them.

"Good," Clark said. "Go wash your hands and come out to the car. 
I'll move Lois downstairs when I get back," he added to Martha.

"All right. I'll tell her, if she wakes up before you get back." 
Martha poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table 
and sat down to read the Daily Planet.

By the time Clark made it to the Jeep, CJ was already waiting for 
him. Cautiously, Clark lowered his glasses and looked the whole 
area over, but it seemed that no one was watching them. He opened 
the driver's door and got in.

"Dad," CJ said, as soon as the door closed, "You know the stuff 
we talked about after you got back?"

"Did you think of something else you wanted to ask?" Clark asked.

"Sort of. We didn't really have time to talk a lot about it."

"Go ahead." Clark closed his mouth and thought as clearly as he 
could directly at his son, keeping the thoughts clearly focused 
on CJ. The New Kryptonians had been able to do that, he knew, 
when they wanted to. 'I don't think anyone is listening, but 
after last night I think we should probably be careful. Think 
*at* me, CJ. Try not to let your thoughts go anywhere else.'

'Okay,' CJ thought back at him. Clark could almost see the narrow 
stream of communication directly to him. CJ was better at this 
than he was, he thought. Maybe it had something to do with the 
fact that CJ was still a child, and more adaptable than an adult. 
'I wanted to ask about Wyatt,' CJ continued. 'I mean, it was 
great that he could hear us, but how can he hear us at all? At 
first the only person he could hear was Marta, but after she told 
him to listen for us, he could hear the rest of us, and then ...' 
He went on to detail exactly what had happened the night before. 
'How can that be, Dad? I thought regular people couldn't do 
that.'

'I've managed it with your mom a few times,' Clark told him. 'We 
never practiced, but if we had, we might have gotten better at 
it. As for Wyatt -- I'm not sure. Some people do have ESP here on 
Earth, though. I know one personally, although she isn't always 
as accurate as you might think. In any case, I'm going to talk to 
Dr. Klein about it when I get the chance.' He paused. 'Marta 
really didn't have any trouble talking to him, though -- or 
hearing him?'

CJ shook his head. 'She didn't even have to try very hard. Does 
that mean Wyatt and Marta are like Linda and me and you and Mom?'

'What do you mean?' Clark asked, a little startled.

'You know,' CJ said. 'Like that New Kryptonian thing -- sort of 
tied together?'

'Where did you hear about that?' Clark asked.

'I heard you and Mom talking about it,' CJ said. 'Does it mean 
that Linda and I are going to get married when we grow up?'

'Maybe,' Clark said. 'I learned a little about it from Zara when 
I was on the New Kryptonian mother ship. Kryptonians tend to do 
that when they meet the person that's right for them. It's called 
bonding.'

'Oh,' CJ said. He looked thoughtful. 'Well, that's okay. If I get 
married someday, I wouldn't want to marry anybody but Linda. Will 
Wyatt marry Marta?'

'It's possible,' Clark said. 'Would you mind?'

'No,' CJ said, surprising him. 'Marta's pretty cool, when she 
isn't trying to boss me around.'

Clark reflected that Wyatt might not mind that part, as long as 
it was Marta doing the bossing, any more than he minded Lois 
bossing him around, but he didn't say so. He looked around 
carefully and spoke aloud. "I wanted to tell you what happened 
last night, before Marta and Jonny get here. Mr. Henderson is 
trying to find out who this Pilson -- or Maxwell -- is, for us. 
Your mother and I talked it over with him last night, and he 
wanted you to do something for him."

"Sure," CJ said. "What?"

"You know that I've found one of the Kryptonian kids here in 
Metropolis, but I didn't tell you who it was."

"Yeah, I know," CJ said. "It's Valerie Henderson."

Clark paused infinitesimally before he continued. "How did you 
know that?"

"I didn't. Linda told me."

"How did *she* know?"

CJ shrugged. "She just did. The same way she knew Marta was, I 
guess. Valerie's one of her friends. She isn't going to tell 
anyone."

"Oh," Clark said. He was definitely going to need to talk to 
Linda in private as soon as he could make the time. "Well, Mr. 
Henderson knows about you, you know. He's afraid that whatever 
this thing is, that Valerie might be in danger. He's going to 
tell her that if she thinks she's in danger, she's to go to you, 
and you can call me. All right?"

"Okay," CJ said.

"And one last thing. You should pass this along to Linda and 
Marta when you get the chance. Something happened last night. 
Wyatt was talking to me -- kind of a test to see if he could. 
Someone else overheard us. Someone spoke to me the same way. I 
think he was surprised, but this means there's another Kryptonian 
hybrid around here somewhere. When you talk telepathically, be 
careful. Understand?"

CJ nodded. "I'll tell them both as soon as we get away from 
Jonny. Jimmy and him; they overheard us talking with telepathy 
last night, but they didn't know what was going on." 

"Yeah," Clark said. It sounded as if things were getting more 
complicated than ever.

CJ was frowning. "This is kinda scary," he said. "I wanted to ask 
you last night -- do you think it would help if I wore glasses 
like you? I mean, people wouldn't think I was a superkid if I had 
to wear glasses. Besides," he added, "if I start doing super 
things like you, when I grow up, I don't want anyone to recognize 
me."

"Well," Clark said, after a pause, "your grandmother and 
grandfather put glasses on me when I was about twelve, to remind 
me not to use my vision powers. That was right after I set a 
haystack on fire by accident. It's up to you, really, because you 
already know how to handle your super-vision."

"Well," CJ said, "I think maybe I should. D'you think I could get 
some really cool frames, so I don't look like a nerd?"

Clark couldn't help grinning. "I think we can manage that."

**********

"Strike three!" the umpire announced. CJ rubbed his shoulder as 
he straightened up from the final pitch that ended the game. The 
score was four to nothing, largely due to CJ's pitching and the 
excellent support of his teammates.

Coach Pilson, or whatever his name really was, was standing on 
the sidelines, a grin on his face, as if he were responsible for 
the way the Metro Elementary Wildcats had played -- which, CJ 
thought, he wasn't. Coach Tibbets was the one who had taught them 
to play as a team, even when the pitcher and the right fielder 
could barely stand each other. The parents and families of the 
players were going crazy in the stands, and behind home plate, he 
could see Wyatt doing a victory dance, clutching the ball in his 
catcher's glove and waving it in the air. Then the other members 
of his team descended on him, screaming and pounding him wherever 
their hands came in contact with his body. He found that he was 
grateful for his partial invulnerability. 

He could see his dad in the fourth row, yelling along with the 
other parents, and the fact that he was there made CJ feel 
considerably safer. Whatever the coach was up to, CJ thought, his 
dad wouldn't let him get away with it, at least for now. 

The Eastside Elementary Wolves were advancing to shake the hands 
of the winners, and the Wildcats lined up behind him to 
graciously accept the congratulations. That was something that 
the schools insisted on to show good sportsmanship. CJ suspected 
that congratulating him was the last thing they wanted to do. He 
had heard the remarks when the opposing team had discovered that 
he was the Wildcats' pitcher today. Not many members of 
Metropolis's four other elementary schools' baseball teams were 
too fond of him.

Linda had moved up behind him. She was looking at the members of 
the opposing team with a serious expression, but she didn't say 
anything. At last, the Wildcats traipsed off the field, to be met 
by their family members. Wyatt, Linda and CJ walked together in a 
small group. CJ could see that his dad was trying to work his way 
down from the stands through the crowd of parents. Coach Pilson 
had moved toward them, and as CJ approached the area by the gate, 
the coach stopped beside him. "That was great pitching," he 
remarked casually. "Not many kids can pitch as well as you, 
Kent."

"Other kids didn't have my grandfather to teach them how," CJ 
said.

"Was he really that good?" Pilson asked.

"Yeah, he was," CJ said. "He pitches for the senior's team in 
Smallville, now. He's still better than any of the others there."

"Too bad your dad didn't decide to play," Pilson said. "Didn't 
your grandfather teach him?"

"Yeah," CJ said, wondering a little about the questions. "My dad 
liked football better than baseball. He played at Midwest U."

"Oh," Pilson said. "And then he decided to be a reporter."

"Yeah, he did," CJ said. "Why?"

"Just making conversation," Pilson said. "I've read a lot of his 
stuff." He looked at Linda and Wyatt. "That was fine teamwork," 
he said. "I guess catching for Kent here keeps you on your toes," 
he added to Wyatt. "Do you always catch for him?"

"Yeah," Wyatt said. "Coach Tibbets always assigns me to catch for 
CJ."

"I can see why," Pilson remarked, casually. "Been catching for 
him long?"

"Just this year," CJ said. "At least here. Wyatt's in Little 
League, too."

"Oh, I see," Pilson said. "How about you, Lennox?"

"I just transferred to Metro Elementary this year," Linda said. 
"I used to go to Susan Bitterwerth Elementary before this."

"Oh," Pilson said.

Linda pointed. "There's your dad, CJ," she said suddenly. 
Relieved, CJ saw Clark Kent coming across the blacktop toward 
him. Pilson turned in time to come face to face with CJ's father. 
CJ could hear his heartbeat speed up.

Clark looked the coach up and down. "You must be Coach Pilson," 
he said. CJ and Linda looked at each other. 

"Yeah," Pilson said. "John Tibbets has the flu, so I'm 
substituting. You must be CJ's father."

"That's right. Clark Kent," Clark said, extending a hand. Pilson 
took it, and the men shook hands. CJ saw the coach wince 
slightly.

"Your son's a terrific pitcher for his age," Pilson said.

"We think so," Clark said. "My father taught him, when he was 
about five." He looked past the coach to CJ, Wyatt and Linda. "If 
you three hurry, I'll give you a ride home with Marta. Linda, 
your mother called to tell Lois that she's going to be late again 
tonight, so you're eating with us again."

"Okay," Linda said. "We'll be just a few minutes, Mr. Kent."

**********

As he entered the gymnasium to change out of his baseball gear, 
CJ glanced back. His father was talking to Mr. Pilson, but 
without employing his super-hearing, CJ couldn't hear what they 
were saying.

Linda was also looking back, and he saw that she was biting her 
lip, but she didn't say anything. Inside the gym, they split up. 
Linda headed for the girls' changing room, and he and Wyatt for 
the one reserved for the boys. 

There were three other boys from their class there, changing 
clothing. Paul Roberts, the Wildcats' third baseman pulled his T-
shirt over his head and looked around to see them. "Hey!" he 
said. "Wildcats rule!"

CJ grinned and went to his locker to retrieve his clothes. They 
were lying in a jumbled heap in his cubicle. He frowned at the 
pile of clothing. He wasn't given to excessive neatness, but he 
could have sworn he'd more-or-less folded his shirt and jeans 
before he'd left them here. And he definitely hadn't left his 
pockets turned inside out like that.

"What's the matter?" Wyatt asked.

"Somebody's been messing with my stuff," CJ said.

Wyatt glanced at the clothing. "Did you have any money in your 
pockets?"

"No." CJ bent to retrieve the pencil that had been in one pocket. 
It was lying on the floor under the bench. "I know better than 
that."

"There's your house key," Wyatt said. He picked the key up from 
the spot where it had fallen, nearly out of sight by the foot of 
the bench.

"Thanks." CJ took the key. Had someone been searching his pockets 
for money, or was it something worse? He began to dress, frowning 
thoughtfully.

'You suppose it had something to do with that stuff last night?' 
Wyatt's voice asked in his mind.

'I dunno,' CJ answered the same way. 'I guess it might just be 
somebody looking for stuff to steal.'

'Biff, you think?' Wyatt asked.

CJ thought about it. 'Doubt it. He was on the field the whole 
time, and I saw him talking to Grunt when we came in here. He 
didn't have a chance to take anything.'

'Oh.' Wyatt was buttoning his shirt. 'Maybe you should tell your 
dad.'

'I'm going to. Let's hurry up.'

"I'm done," Wyatt said, aloud. He tucked in the tail of his 
shirt.

The final bell, announcing the end of school, rang as CJ picked 
up the bag that now contained his very dirty baseball uniform and 
together the two boys left the locker room. Other team members 
passed them, several giving CJ and Wyatt a high-five. Even Biff 
didn't give CJ his usual scowl as he passed. CJ grinned at his 
friends, knowing that his stock was pretty high with them right 
now, but he didn't stop to chat. His dad was waiting patiently, 
with Linda and Marta beside him, but there was no sign of Coach 
Pilson. At least, CJ thought, he didn't have to be back until 
Monday. Maybe by then his dad and Mr. Henderson would figure out 
what was going on and put a stop to it. 

Clark was talking to Linda in a voice low enough that no one 
around them would be able to hear, and CJ didn't bother to try to 
tune in with his super-hearing. His dad was frowning but it 
wasn't an angry frown. It was more as if he was thinking hard 
about what Linda was saying. He nodded a couple of times, and 
then glanced up as CJ and Wyatt approached.

"Come on, guys," he said, noncommittally, "let's get home."

"Somebody searched through CJ's clothes in the locker room," 
Wyatt said.

"Oh?" Clark glanced at CJ. "Is anything missing?"

CJ shook his head. "No. I didn't have anything worth taking. Just 
a pencil and my key, and they were there, only on the floor."

"Maybe somebody was looking for money," Marta said.

"Maybe," Clark said. He didn't say anything more as they crossed 
the blacktop toward the parking lot, but CJ had the impression 
that he was listening for something, though what it might be he 
had no idea. He tried to listen, too, but he wasn't as good as 
his dad when it came to using his super-hearing; at least yet. 
Trying to sort out what lots of different people were saying 
tended to make all the sounds blend into one big gabble, and 
generally gave him a headache.

When they reached the parking lot, CJ saw that the Jeep was 
completely hemmed in by the cars of parents that had come to see 
the game. He wasn't really surprised. Cars were jammed together 
just like rush hour in downtown Metropolis, and it occurred to 
him to wonder why grown-ups couldn't take turns like the teachers 
taught the kids in his school to do, instead of trying to be the 
first in line to exit the lot. As he watched, the driver of a 
Chevy van tried to shove its nose into a spot too small for a 
Volkswagen, and the guy in the fancy pickup truck that had been 
moving into the space had to slam on his brakes to avoid the 
other vehicle. The car behind the pickup jolted to a stop half an 
inch from the truck's bumper, but the car behind *him* wasn't 
quite fast enough and CJ winced at the shriek of metal against 
metal.

Other cars screeched to a stop as well. The drivers of the two 
cars jumped out and ran to inspect the damage, which, CJ's 
enhanced vision informed him, was limited to a minor scratch on 
the rear bumper of one and a tiny dent in the front bumper of the 
other.

The minor nature of the damage didn't seem to matter, however, 
judging by the language that was issuing from the drivers of the 
two cars. Clark opened the doors of the Cherokee after a glance 
over his shoulder at the accident.

"You kids get in," he said. "I think Superman's going to step in 
here."

Wyatt, Marta, Linda and CJ got into the Jeep and at Clark's 
insistence, shut and locked the doors. When CJ again had the 
leisure to look up, his father had vanished, and an instant 
later, Superman had arrived on the scene.

"You think we'll ever be able to fly like him?" Marta asked 
wistfully, watching the drama.

"Sure," CJ said firmly. "You and Linda can already float down 
when he throws you into the air. It's gonna take a while, but I 
bet we'll be flying before we're eighteen. Dad says he thinks he 
probably could have flown when he was fifteen or sixteen -- he 
just didn't know he could."

"And," Wyatt said, "CJ can even do better than that -- and he's 
only about a year older than you, Marta. Last time I stayed 
overnight, CJ floated in his sleep. I saw him."

"I *did*?" CJ said.

"Uh huh. I woke up in the middle of the night, and you were 
floating maybe three or four feet in the air."

CJ was struck dumb for several seconds. "Why didn't you *say* 
something?"

Wyatt shrugged. "I figured you probably knew already. 'Sides 
flying's no big deal for you guys, is it?"


"Yeah, it kinda is," CJ said. "Next time you see me floating, 
wake me up, okay?"

"Sure," Wyatt said.

"What was Dad frowning about?" CJ asked, turning to Linda. "He 
looked kinda worried."

Linda was watching Superman as he separated the drivers, picked 
up the vehicles and moved them to the side of the lot. "He was," 
she said. "There's another Kryptonian somewhere around."

"How do you know?" Wyatt asked.

"I always know," Linda said. "I don't know how; I just do."

"Is he around, now?" CJ asked.

"Yes. Not as close as he was a while ago."

"Where was he a while ago?"

Linda shrugged. "I don't know. Just close."

"One of the Wolves' team?" CJ asked.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"But he's not around our school most of the time?" CJ asked.

"No," Linda said. "I've never felt him before."

"He probably came with the other team," Wyatt said. "Or maybe 
with his mom or dad."

"Maybe," Linda said, but she didn't look convinced. "He was 
scared."

"Scared? How do you know?"

Again she shrugged. She probably really didn't know how she knew, 
CJ decided. She'd known Marta was a Kryptonian, and she'd 
probably known Jonny and Jimmy were, too. And she'd spotted 
Valerie Henderson as well. Linda seemed to have some way of 
telling, even if she didn't know how she did it. But then, Linda 
was pretty special, CJ thought with a twinge of pride.

"He's getting farther away all the time," Linda added. "He's 
probably in one of the cars that were in the parking lot."

"Yeah," CJ said.

The front door of the Jeep opened and Clark got in. "It looks 
like we'll be out of here in a few minutes," he said.

"Dad, can you tell if somebody's a Kryptonian?" Marta asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"Then how does Linda know?" Marta asked.

"I don't know," Clark said. "I don't know that much about 
Kryptonian powers. Zara did mention that sometimes the noble 
families of Krypton produced someone with better than normal 
mental abilities. That might have been how the noble families got 
to *be* the noble families. I wonder if that might be how they 
found me in the beginning."

"What do you mean?" CJ asked.

"Well --" His father started the engine and began to back 
cautiously from the parking space. "When the New Kryptonians 
arrived, they somehow knew that I was one of them, and since Kal-
El had been sent to Earth, they figured that I was him -- and of 
course they were right," he added. "Zara never told me how they 
did it, though. It might have been someone like Linda who pointed 
me out to them."

"Yeah, maybe," Marta said. "I guess Linda's dad was from one of 
the noble families, huh?"

His dad glanced quickly over his shoulder, and CJ couldn't 
interpret the expression on his face when he looked at Linda, but 
an instant later he was paying attention to the traffic that was 
still crowded much too closely around them for CJ's comfort. 
"Probably," he said. "It doesn't matter who it was. Linda's from 
Earth, and the New Kryptonians are gone. As far as I'm concerned, 
we can forget they ever existed."

"That's sure," Linda said. "I hate him, whoever he was."

CJ couldn't help himself. He reached out, took her hand and 
squeezed it. 'Dad's right. It really *doesn't* matter,' he said, 
aiming his thoughts directly at her, so that Marta, Wyatt and his 
dad wouldn't hear; or at least he hoped they wouldn't. '*I'm* 
glad you're here. It wouldn't even matter if it was Lord Nor; and 
Lord Nor tried to kill my dad. *You* didn't have anything to do 
with it, anymore than I had anything to do with where I came 
from.'

She met his eyes, and for a long moment they looked at each other 
very solemnly. Then Marta giggled. "You guys look just like 
Gwendolyn and Vincent on 'The Ivory Tower'!"

CJ stuck his tongue out at his sister and squeezed Linda's hand 
again, but he didn't say anything.

It was the beginning of rush hour, so it took nearly twenty 
minutes to reach the townhouse on Hyperion Avenue. Clark pulled 
the Jeep into the garage in the rear of the property and cut the 
engine. CJ saw him lower his glasses and look in the direction of 
the house. He frowned.

"What's the matter?" CJ asked.

"We have visitors," his father said.

"Good guys or bad ones?" Wyatt asked.

"Good ones," Clark said. "But a little unexpected. When we get 
there, you four go on upstairs and start your homework. I'll call 
you if you need to be there."

"You're gonna tell us what's going on, later, aren't you?" Wyatt 
asked.

"If it's related to this business with Coach Pilson," CJ's father 
said, "you can be sure I will."

**********

When Clark walked into the living room of the townhouse, followed 
by the four children, William Henderson and his companion got to 
their feet.

"Hi, Clark," Henderson said. "We've been waiting for you to get 
home."

Lois, stretched out on the couch, as usual, looked at the four 
children. "Why don't you guys go up to the playroom with Jonny 
and Jimmy."

"Okay," CJ said. They headed up the stairs and Clark looked 
questioningly at his second visitor. 

"I didn't expect to see you, Rene."

The French Interpol agent had risen to his feet. "It's good to 
see you, Clark. I wish it were under better circumstances."

"What's going on?" Clark asked.

"My inquiries to Agent Olsen got more results than we expected," 
Henderson said. "He evidently contacted Agent St. Cloud here."

"Are *your* people behind the surveillance of my son?" Clark 
asked, levelly.

"Not exactly," Rene said. "I shouldn't have been surprised that 
you discovered it, though. I recall clearly how impressed I was 
with your work on Crescent Island. No, my people are not behind 
the surveillance, but one of my men is involved in it."

"Pilson," Clark said. "Or Maxwell."

"Yes," Rene said. "I had hoped not to have to alarm you, but I 
should have realized that it was a vain wish." He gestured to the 
empty armchair. "Sit down and I'll explain. John Maxwell is one 
of my best men. He will be most chagrined to discover that a 
reporter has penetrated his disguise. I did explain to him that 
you were no common reporter, and warned him not to underestimate 
you, but I don't think he was convinced."

Clark glanced at Lois, who nodded at him. Martha Kent entered the 
room, a tray bearing four cups of coffee and a glass of juice in 
her hands. She distributed the coffee to Clark and the two 
guests, set the juice in front of Lois and sank onto the foot of 
the sofa, setting the last cup and saucer on the end table.

Lois sipped the juice and set the glass on the coffee table. "You 
have no idea how glad I'm going to be when I can have a real cup 
of coffee again," she remarked. "Go ahead. I want to hear this 
explanation, myself. I don't particularly like the thought that 
my son is being watched by his PE coach."

Rene St. Cloud nodded. "I don't blame you, Ms. Lane, but it was a 
choice of his being watched by one of my men or by someone else 
who had no reason at all to try to protect him. Quite the 
opposite." He sipped the coffee. "You recall, I am sure, Arianna 
Carlin."

"What's *she* got to do with this?" Lois asked, sharply.

"Everything, I'm afraid," Rene said. "She vanished during the 
raid on Crescent Island and seemed to completely disappear. But 
we believe she has surfaced again, at last." He met Clark's eyes. 
"I understand, my friend, that you are angry that your son has 
become the target of surveillance, but when you hear the 
circumstances, I think you will be willing to forgive me."

"All right," Clark said. "Let's hear it."

"Very well." Rene shifted his position in the chair so that he 
was partially facing both Lois and Clark. "Six months ago, the 
founder and head of a major U.S. corporation apparently cleaned 
out his fairly substantial personal bank accounts and 
disappeared."

"What does this have to do with CJ?" Lois asked.

"Everything," Rene said. "It has to do with Arianna Carlin, Lex 
Luthor, and the project in which they were engaged while Luthor 
was, in effect, a prisoner on his own island -- which, in this 
case, leads directly to Arianna Carlin's interest in your son." 
He smiled faintly. "John Maxwell was very impressed with the 
boy's pitching skill, by the way. He thinks CJ should become a 
major league pitcher when he grows up. I told him that I 
suspected that the son of Lois Lane and Clark Kent was more 
likely to become an investigative reporter, or perhaps a world 
leader."

"Just so long as he doesn't become a lawyer," Lois muttered. She 
shifted position uncomfortably and rubbed a spot on her abdomen. 
"CJ's too honest for that."

Henderson snorted. "Believe it or not, I've actually known some 
ethical lawyers," he remarked. "It does happen, as unlikely as 
that may seem."

"Whatever," Lois said, clearly unconvinced. "When a DA tries to 
frame me for murder to get himself elected governor, it makes me 
wonder if *any* of them are trustworthy. Go on, Rene."

The Interpol agent nodded. "Very well. During the investigations 
following the CEO's disappearance, it became evident that the man 
in question had been siphoning money from his company for months. 
The funds had been transferred to numbered bank accounts in the 
Cayman Islands, and were not recovered. A week after his 
disappearance, the man's body was found behind the wheel of his 
car, just south of the Mexican border. He was apparently dead of 
a heart attack. His money was gone."

"You don't think it was a heart attack?" Clark asked.

"To all appearances it was," Rene said. "However, you have to 
agree that the circumstances were somewhat odd. What's more, 
exactly the same thing happened ten months before that, only the 
head of the company involved was Canadian, and the car turned up 
in North Dakota."

Clark glanced at Lois. His wife was frowning thoughtfully. He 
knew a quick flash of admiration that even in these 
circumstances, his Lois was still the investigative reporter that 
she had always been. 

"Were these the only examples?" she asked.

Rene shook his head. "No. The same thing happened two years ago 
to another company head in California. His body was found in a 
Tijuana hotel, and the money was also gone. By the time of the 
latest incident, as you might guess, the authorities had begun to 
believe that more than chance was involved."

"Big surprise there," Lois said.

"The U.S. and Canadian authorities had begun to put the pattern 
together, and it was your friend Jack Olsen who spotted a 
possible connection," Rene continued. "He was involved in the 
investigation of Caribbean Imports, and the raid on Crescent 
Island ten years ago, and he noticed that at one time or another 
all three of the men had been the guests of Alejandro de Los 
Rios."

Clark glanced at Lois again. She was biting her lip. "Go on."

"Very well. Jack Olsen contacted me. I had been tracking five 
similar happenings in Europe, and our suspicions were now 
thoroughly aroused. This triggered an autopsy on the body that 
was somewhat more thorough than usual, and as a result, the 
diagnosis of a heart attack was changed somewhat.

"What the analysis revealed was frog DNA. We exhumed the other 
bodies and analyses were performed on their DNA as well. The men 
were all clones, and our researchers believe that the heart 
attacks were somehow programmed in, possibly in response to some 
external signal. Apparently they had been executing a long-term 
plan, but were probably unaware of the ultimate fate intended for 
them."

"That makes sense," Lois murmured.

"These events were enough to convince us beyond a doubt that the 
situation was not a coincidence," Rene said.

"I'd say so," Lois interjected. "And I guess that's what led you 
to Arianna Carlin."

Rene nodded. "We went to New Troy's state law enforcement and 
obtained the record of visitors to Lex Luthor -- both Lex Luthors 
-- over the last ten years. There were quite a few by the media, 
of course, but none by any known friends or relatives --"

"-- As might be expected," Lois interjected.

"Until I noticed that a particular newswoman had visited him --
both of him -- several times for exclusive interviews," Rene said 
grimly. "We obtained the photograph that is automatically taken 
of visitors, and a copy of the signature."

"It was Arianna," Lois said.

Rene nodded. "Recently, she also interviewed one Ambrose Cash, 
formerly a member of the United States Army and a covert 
operative for the discredited agency, Bureau 39."

"I begin to see the connection," Clark said.

"I thought you would," Rene said. "After that, using the list of 
visitors to Crescent Island, we pinpointed companies with 
compromised owners."

Lois glanced at Clark. "That was the plan we uncovered while we 
were on the island: to replace the owners or CEOs of companies 
with their copies -- copies that would do as they were told by 
Luthor and Arianna."

Again, Rene nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid the civil authorities were 
less willing to believe such a wild story, in spite of prior 
experience with Lex Luthor, than you were. It's my understanding 
that you two have had close-up contact with Mr. Luthor's clones."


"You could say that," Clark said. 

His attempt to speak casually didn't fool Rene for an instant. 
The man smiled briefly, without humor. "In any case, my friend, 
*I* believed you, and after finding that the dead executives were 
clones, others did as well. In any case, we believed that Arianna 
Carlin is implementing a long-term plan of some sort -- whatever 
it may be. We know that the Luthor clone claimed that your son 
was the rumored Superman clone, in spite of all the evidence to 
the contrary. We also know that Colonel Cash claimed that the 
rumored offspring of the New Kryptonian invasion intended to take 
over the world. How a man with such delusions could have become a 
colonel in the United States Army is a scenario that I find 
incredible as well as frightening."

"That's for sure," Lois said, with feeling. "Paranoid secret 
government agencies scare me. When we were on Crescent Island, we 
thought that Lex and Arianna were trying to essentially create 
another group of companies equivalent to the original LexCorp. It 
sounds to me like she's trying to amass capital to finance the 
project."

"It seems logical," Rene said. "In any case, we believe the two 
Luthors and Colonel Cash passed the so-called 'information' about 
the Superman clone and the hypothetical New Kryptonian hybrids to 
Arianna Carlin. That is where the connection between her and your 
family comes into play." He shrugged. "We didn't discover this at 
once," he continued. "When we found the connection of the cloned 
CEOs, we saw it as a possible lead to locating her. She is 
considered a criminal of the same stature as Lex Luthor, as you 
may know, and if she is behind this situation, as we believe, she 
has been elevated to the rank of international criminal 
mastermind. So, as I said, we used the list of visitors to 
Crescent Island to pinpoint the companies with compromised 
owners. John Maxwell worked his way into one of the companies and 
after some time discovered three persons who were working with 
the CEO. I won't go into all the details, but eventually he 
managed to bring himself to their notice in such a way that he 
was inducted into their organization two months ago. He reports 
that a Mrs. X gives the orders, and only via cell phone. He has 
never seen her, but he believes Mrs. X to be Arianna Carlin. 
Maxwell has managed to work his way into a position of trust with 
Mrs. X, and last week was given this assignment -- to discover 
the truth or falsity of suspicions about your son. He accepted 
the assignment not only in the hope that it would lead to Arianna 
Carlin, but because the other candidate was not a man of 
scruples." He stopped. "I ask your forgiveness for this intrusion 
into your lives, especially --" he looked toward Lois with a 
smile, "in the current circumstances. John Maxwell has two sons. 
He will not harm yours."

**********

When Rene St. Cloud finished speaking, Clark looked at Lois. His 
wife was a hard-headed and intelligent woman who tended to think 
more clearly than he did in circumstances such as this. His first 
instinct was to tell Rene that he appreciated his attempt to 
protect CJ but that he was going to move his son as far away from 
Arianna Carlin as it was possible to take him.

But, of course, that wouldn't solve anything. All it would do 
would be to delay the inevitable and convince Arianna and Lex 
Luthor that they were right to suspect CJ Kent of being the 
Superman clone, or just possibly a Kryptonian hybrid. And it 
could definitely raise such suspicions in others. What was more, 
such a move would derail Rene's attempt to capture the renegade 
wife of Lex Luthor, who was certainly as evil and as much of a 
threat to his family as Lex Luthor or Colonel Cash.

Lois was looking back at him, biting her lip. He glanced at Rene 
and back at his wife. "What do you think, honey?"

Lois turned to Rene St. Cloud. "Exactly how much of a threat is 
this to CJ?" she asked.

"I can't say that he is in no danger," Rene said. "He is. But 
that would be so whether my people are involved or not."

"Yeah." Lois said. "We can't hide CJ from her forever, Clark."

"I know." Clark resisted the urge to get to his feet and pace. 
"Bill, you're an ex-cop. What do you advise?"

Henderson shrugged, more as a nervous gesture than as a 
dismissal. "If it were Valerie, I'm sure I'd feel the same as 
you," he said, "but I also know the kind of people we're up 
against."

"If it *were* Valerie," Lois said, "what would you advise?"

Henderson met her eyes directly. "I'd say we need to carry 
through. If we can nail Arianna Luthor and put her in prison, she 
and Luthor won't be a threat any longer, and you can debunk their 
claims about CJ once and for all. Once she's discredited and in 
jail, I don't think there will be anyone wasting his time 
listening to the Luthors and their crazy theories."

"Dr. Klein tested CJ once," Clark said. "Isn't that enough?"

"It is for the world of normal people," Bill said, "but Arianna 
Luthor and her husband aren't normal. They're going to keep up 
their attack on you and CJ until they either succeed and prove 
that CJ isn't their clone -- and then probably kill him to hide 
what they've done -- or are stopped."

"He's right," Lois said. "I don't like CJ being at risk, but 
until Arianna is in custody, she's never going to leave him 
alone. No one is going to be able to convince her that her 
precious Superman clone isn't around anymore -- or, if he is, 
that he isn't CJ. At least we can bring Superman in on it." She 
glanced at Rene. "You probably know that he has an interest in 
Lex Luthor and Arianna. He's already volunteered to help keep an 
eye on CJ." She added with apparent irrelevance, "He's CJ's 
godfather, you know."

Rene nodded. "Yes, Superman's friendship for you and your husband 
is well-known," he said. "I certainly won't turn down his help, 
but it would be well if he would consult with me before he takes 
action."

"I'll tell him," Clark said. "How should he contact you?"

"Does Superman have access to a cellular phone?" Rene asked.

"He has one of his own," Clark said, wondering for the millionth 
time why it was so difficult for persons to visualize his alter 
ego possessing the modern accessories of the day. Why should 
Superman unnecessarily handicap himself by eschewing such 
conveniences as a cell phone?

"Excellent," Rene said. "If you will give me his number, I will 
call him after I am at some distance from your home. It would be 
best if anyone who observed me leaving believed me to be simply 
another of William's campaign staff."

"I'll call him for you," Henderson said, dryly. "I'm one of the 
few that has his number. What makes you think that we're going to 
get to Arianna this way? She seems to have carefully avoided 
showing up in person so far."

"But," Rene said, "from what I have gathered, the Luthors had 
planned to use the clone they created as a weapon against 
Superman. It seems to have been an integral part of their scheme 
to reacquire power. They will not give up that plan without a 
struggle. If anything will bring Arianna Carlin -- Arianna Luthor 
-- out of hiding, it would be the possibility of recovering their 
clone. As you say, they will not willingly believe that your son 
is not the object of their desires. Very will, we will use that 
weakness to trap her."

Clark looked at his wife. "We need to bring the kids down here 
and let them know what's going on."

Rene hesitated. "Is it necessary? Frightening your son isn't 
something that I want to do."

Lois rubbed the spot on her side again. "CJ and Wyatt were 
involved with that Bureau 39 mess last year," she said, "and so 
were the girls. In fact, the boys helped Bill and his people get 
it under control by getting rid of the piece of Kryptonite before 
Cash could use it on Superman. They've all been worried about all 
this since yesterday when we figured out that something was 
wrong. Besides, CJ's their target. This way, he can at least be 
on guard for anything unusual."

Henderson nodded. "You'll find that CJ is a very level-headed 
kid," he told Rene. "So are Wyatt and the girls, and they deserve 
to know what's going on, if only to help protect them."

Rene shrugged fatalistically. "Very well, William. You know them 
better than I."

**********

CJ didn't ordinarily eavesdrop on his parents and their friends -
- at least not since he'd realized that his excellent hearing was 
a super power and that he could control it -- but this time it 
was a little different. 

He had heard about Lex Luthor. It had been impossible to do any 
kind of computer search about his parents and all the things they 
had done without the man's name turning up. He'd read about how 
the great business magnate had turned out to be a criminal and 
how his mother and father -- mostly his father, actually, with 
help from Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Perry -- had brought the man 
down. The creep must have been awfully smart to fool his mom the 
way he had apparently done. She'd nearly married him, for Pete's 
sake, and then the guy had managed to kidnap her from her first 
wedding to his dad and a horrible mess had happened as a result. 
The whole story had been there in the tabloid stuff online, and 
lots of newspaper articles. CJ had found it fascinating in a 
hair-raising sort of way. Then the clone of Luthor had turned up, 
after everyone thought Luthor was dead, and after that it turned 
out that the real Luthor was still alive, a prisoner of his own 
wife on a private island. The guy seemed to be like one of those 
comic book villains that kept coming back over and over, no 
matter how many times he was supposedly killed.

His dad had mentioned that an old enemy had cloned Superman to 
use as a weapon against him, and CJ had suspected for a while 
that Luthor was the enemy he'd been talking about, but what he 
had overheard now confirmed it. It was a scary thought that he 
might have wound up his parents' enemy if things had been just a 
little different. Still, that part didn't matter, just as he had 
told Linda that where she'd come from didn't matter. It was, as 
his dad had said, what he was now and what he made of himself 
that was important, and there was no way this Arianna babe and 
the creep she was married to were going to turn him into a weapon 
against his dad. Normally, CJ would never have thought of any 
grown woman as a "babe", but he'd heard his mom refer to female 
criminals and sometimes other women that she didn't like as 
"babe", so he didn't think she'd really mind, even if she 
pretended she did.

Linda and Marta were also listening, and he noticed that Marta 
was relaying the information to Wyatt as fast as she heard it, so 
none of them were surprised when they heard his dad call them 
from the foot of the stairs. They looked at each other and as 
one, got up from the battered sofa, from which they had been 
watching Jimmy and Jonny demolish the minions of the Beringi 
Overlord in the process of saving the galaxy, and headed down the 
stairs.

"I guess you overheard most of that," his dad said quietly to 
them as they arrived on the second floor.

"Yeah." CJ said.

"Don't worry," Clark said. "We're going to stop these people."

"Dad, why do they think CJ is a clone?" Marta asked. "That's 
dumb!"

"We'll go into it later," Clark said. "The point is, the people 
after him think he is, and that's what puts him in danger. The 
man with Mr. Henderson is a friend of ours that your mother and I 
met ten years ago when we were on an undercover assignment. His 
name is Rene St. Cloud and he's a cop from France."

"Okay," CJ said.

'He doesn't know about Superman,' his father added on their 
mental channel. It was interesting, C