Third Son 
By TagsNOLA <TagsNOLA@lycos.com> 
Rated PG-13 
Submitted August 2006 
____________________

Foreword:

Approximately thirty years into the future, Lois & Clark have 
raised three sons, Jonathan Luke, Lane Clark and Matthew Mark to 
young adulthood. Jon and Lane were born with super powers like 
their dad's. Mark, he goes by "Mark," not "Matt, was born 
perfectly healthy, but without any super powers. Clark decided 
that, for Mark's own protection and wellbeing, he would never be 
told "the family secret." An ongoing political crisis has 
necessitated Clark's two oldest sons traveling to New Krypton to 
serve on their Governing Council as counterweights against 
hardliners who advocate authoritarian rule and warlike 
expansionism. But the resulting political stalemate within the 
council has brought with it the threat of civil war and a 
bloodletting that could result in final extinction of this 
remnant of the Kryptonian people. Clark has recently obtained the 
means of imparting his Kryptonian physiological attributes to his 
third son, Mark. Mark is a US Naval aviator, assigned to an 
ultra-secret kamikaze mission to be ready to take out any 
Kryptonian who threatens Earth. The military establishments of 
Earth have forgotten neither the brutal Kryptonian murderer, Lord 
Nor, nor his henchmen, nor their brutal rampage on Earth some 
thirty years ago. They have faithfully inculcated in their ranks 
a deep hatred and suspicion of anything or anyone Kryptonian. As 
a young naval aviator, from his military indoctrination, Mark has 
assimilated all of this fear and loathing. He has sworn to give 
his life, if need be, to defend his family, his country and his 
species against attack by any Kryptonian, including Superman 
should he ever "go bad." The situation on New Krypton is 
desperate and violence there could threaten even Earth itself. 
(When New Krypton sneezes, Earth catches a cold!) Clark has 
revealed the family secret to Mark and has asked him to allow 
Kryptonian physiology to be imparted to him so that he can travel 
to New Krypton to break the political impasse on the Governing 
Council. Mark is horrified to learn that his father is Kryptonian 
and that he himself is half-Kryptonian. "Third Son" is the story 
of how Mark deals with this existential crisis. 

This story is based upon the 4-part "Lois and Clark" series known 
as the "New Krypton Arc." Some of the characters here are from 
the "Lois and Clark" series. Some are new. Some of the dialogue 
is paraphrased from these episodes and this entire fanfic is 
predicated upon those four episodes. But some liberties have been 
taken with story format. No effort has been made to conform 
exactly to the Lois & Clark scenario or to the Gold, Silver, or 
any other "age" among the DC-Superman legends. I have taken what 
I wanted to make this story work. Hopefully, the reader will at 
least find consistency within this story. 

As an example: In some Superman stories, Kryptonite is harmful to 
Kryptonians only when they have their powers. In other stories, 
Kryptonite is lethal to Kryptonians with or without their powers. 
And, traditionally, Kryptonite was completely harmless to 
Terrans. But in some scenarios, although less harmful to Terrans 
than to Kryptonians, Kryptonite radiation is still radiation. 
Prolonged exposure of Kryptonite to Terrans would be harmful. 
Such is the case in this story. And, in this story, Kryptonite 
radiation is harmful to Kryptonians, with or without their 
powers. 

There is one scene in this story, involving Superman when he was 
a boy, Superboy. It is derived from a scene in a Superboy fanfic 
by Samuel Hawkins, "Taking Time," Chapter 6, "Superboy Speaks." I 
have attempted to reach Mr. Hawkins for his permission to utilize 
this concept in my story, but repeated attempts to contact him 
via his posted e-mail address were unsuccessful. Although I've 
written the account of this scene in my own words, some of the 
phrasing is similar to the original writer's. Failing Mr. 
Hawkins' express permission to use his concept in my story; I at 
least wanted to acknowledge him as the source of that scenario. 
Another concept I borrowed from Mr. Hawking was Martha Kent's 
supposition of what Lara's (Clark's natural mother) attitude 
would have been toward her had they ever occasioned to meet. This 
comes from Mr. Hawkins' work "Martha's story." 

I would like to thank Jenni Debbage, my beta reader and Sherry 
Finkel Murphy, my general editor for their time, their effort, 
their insight and their encouragement. Thanks also to all whose 
efforts have made this archive and the chat channels possible. 

Some characters are property of "DC Comics." Others are of my own 
making. No profit has been derived from this work. No copyright 
infringement is intended. 

Forest McNeir (TagsNOLA) Gretna, Louisiana 07 February 2005

Prologue

Tuesday, Mid-September, 0245 local time, onboard USS Nimitz, 
CVN-68, Southwest Pacific Ocean, 250 nautical miles west 
northwest of Manila, Republic of the Philippines. 

Lieutenant Junior Grade Matthew Mark Kent, his friends called him 
"Mark," not "Matt," rolled his aircraft wings level, dropping 
into "the slot" as he aligned his heading for landing aboard the 
super carrier, USS Nimitz. From the headphones inside his flight 
helmet, Mark heard the disembodied voice of the shipboard radar 
approach controller. "NOVEMBER LIMA FIVE FOUR, call the ball." 

Mark replied, "Roger Ball, gear, hook and flaps," confirming for 
the flight controller that he had spotted the "ball," a visual 
approach and landing aid, and that he had properly deployed his 
landing gear, arresting hook and flaps. The "ball" (or 
"meatball") is a mirrored high intensity reddish-amber lamp. This 
beacon is a component of the carrier's visual approach slope 
indicator, a precision landing aid, positioned portside aft; just 
forward of the "ramp," the stern most edge of the flight deck. 
The "ball" was "dead center" indicating Mark's aircraft lineup 
for landing was optimal. 

The approach controller confirmed this. "NOVEMBER LIMA FIVE FOUR 
on course, on glide path, one mile from touch down." 

There was no moon. There were no stars. There was no visible 
horizon for aircraft attitude reference. Pitch-black sky and inky 
sea merged seamlessly into a darkened formless void. But, dead 
ahead, steamed trusty old Nimitz. As Mark continued his approach, 
man and machine were as one. Manipulation of flight controls and 
throttle were second nature, requiring no conscious effort. 
Mark's brain was in overdrive as myriad readouts from headup 
display, feedback from flight controls, visual alignment of the 
"meatball" and "power calls" through his headphones from the 
landing signal officer (LSO) cascaded directly into his 
subconscious. Such a flood of information would have overwhelmed 
an ordinary mind, but Mark's was no ordinary mind. He was a 
highly trained, carrier-qualified naval aviator, his flying 
skills honed to a razor's edge. 

At the final moment before touchdown, the flight deck leapt up 
out of the stygian abyss to snatch Mark and his aircraft out of 
the sky! His Northrop-Grumman-Sukhoi FA-37 "bearcat" tactical jet 
thundered over the ramp and slammed onto the deck in a routine 
recovery described by naval aviators, only half jokingly, as a 
"controlled crash." The "tail hook" snagged the number three 
wire, one among quadruple-redundant cross deck pendants serving 
as arresting cables to "trap" the landing jets as they touched 
down on Nimitz' flight deck. Mark's night carrier landing (one of 
the trickiest maneuvers in all of aviation) was textbook perfect. 
He was the youngest "nugget" (neophyte) aviator in his squadron. 
But, notwithstanding his youth and relative inexperience, he was, 
all around, the best pilot in his squadron and, arguably, one of 
the most naturally gifted in Nimitz' entire air wing. He 
consistently posted the highest landing scores on the "greenie 
board" in his squadron ready room. 

All naval aviators have "call signs." These are nicknames the 
pilots use among themselves over air tactical radio circuits. Not 
only was Mark Kent a brilliant aviator; in university, he had 
been a star gymnast, flying through the air with such ease, 
agility and heart stopping daring that his team mates had taken 
to calling him "Supes." "Supes" was well known world wide as 
Superman's affectionate nickname. During his gymnastic routines, 
sometimes it seemed as though Mark were almost flying like 
Superman! 

His squadron mates had been tipped off by one of his former 
university gymnastics teammates, also a pilot posted aboard USS 
Nimitz in one of Mark's sister squadrons. So his college nickname 
became his naval aviator call sign. Mark had hated "Supes" as his 
college nickname and he hated it even worse as his naval aviator 
call sign. But many aviators do hate their call signs, at least 
at first. You don't get to choose your own call sign. You're just 
stuck with it and, eventually, as Mark had resigned himself, you 
learn to accept it with grudging amiability. 

Mark taxied his jet across the foul line, following the flight 
deck director's light wand signals into parking position on the 
starboard side, just forward of the island super structure. He 
shut down the engines and opened the canopy, the fresh ocean 
breeze instantly soothing his body and soul. His flight suit was 
drenched with sweat, the sweat of stark, naked terror: A terror 
that ran far deeper than fear for one's own life. This had been a 
terror one could only feel believing the survival of your entire 
species is in question. 

During the sortie from which Mark had just recovered aboard USS 
Nimitz, a flight controller in the crew compartment of a 
Northrop-Grumman E2-C Hawkeye airborne radar control aircraft had 
transmitted via an encrypted voice circuit an emergency tactical 
warning. "NOVEMBER LIMA FIVE FOUR, 'Babylon extreme,' 
unidentified contact, possible hostile, approaching from your six 
o'clock level, (his rear, same altitude) closure rate one-six 
hundred knots, I say again, rate of closure: One-six hundred 
knots!" 

"Babylon" was a unique target designator for Superman, The REAL 
Superman. Since before Mark had been born, the military 
establishments of the world had regarded Superman and others of 
his ilk with deep suspicion and sullen hostility. 

Shortly after Superman had begun his career as a super hero as 
"Superboy," at age 13, the world came very close to a general 
thermo-nuclear confrontation between the USA and the USSR. The 
Kremlin leadership had initially presumed that Superboy was some 
kind of US "ultimate weapon" against which there could be no 
viable defense. They had concluded that they must use their 
nuclear arsenal or lose it forever. Unfortunately, the leadership 
in Washington had done nothing to allay Moscow's suspicions, in 
fact, hinting that Superboy was indeed part of the US military 
arsenal. Truth be known, however, realizing they too had no 
counter weapon, the Pentagon had secretly been as afraid of 
Superboy as the Kremlin had been. The thermo-nuclear "balloon" 
was right on the verge of going up. 

Superboy had been mortified. He flew to New York and asked a 
major network for airtime to state his case for peace. He frankly 
acknowledged his allegiance to the United States, but reassured 
the peoples of other nations that he had no intention of using 
his powers to force our way of life on anyone; that his 
intentions were purely peaceful. That all he wanted to do was to 
help, to defend the lives of the innocent and the weak. He vowed, 
in the event hostilities broke out, that he would do everything 
he could to neutralize any nuclear weapons that might be launched 
as a result of this crisis. But he admitted that he probably 
could not manage to intercept them all. And then, with tears 
streaming down his face, Superboy begged the super powers to 
stand down. He related the tragedy of the destruction of his 
native planet, Krypton. He said, "The planet where I came from 
was destroyed. It exploded. The planet and everything and 
everyone, all the people, were destroyed, except for me. I 
couldn't stand it if something like that happened here, 
especially if it happened because of me." He offered to 
discontinue his super hero activities if this would allay 
suspicions and ensure peace. And then at super speed he had 
simply vanished. 

The global consensus, even from the paranoid old men in the 
Kremlin, had been; "Yes, Superboy, you can stay." 

And that was how it remained until some thirty years ago when a 
series of crises arose in rapid succession. The first was the 
International Space Station. The maneuvering engines had fired 
unexpectedly, causing the station's orbit to decay rapidly. 
Superman had flown to the rescue, boosting the station back into 
stable low earth orbit. Subsequent investigation had shown that 
the onboard computer had been hacked. A subroutine had been 
planted which had commanded the maneuvering engines to fire and 
then to stymie any correcting inputs from the crew. The 
astronauts onboard had been helpless. The young Superman had 
flown to the rescue, barely saving the multi- billion dollar 
facility and its crew in the nick of time. But, follow up cyber 
investigators had found that, nested among the list of hacked in 
computer instructions, were commands to fire the maneuvering 
rockets at the last possible moment, boosting the space station 
back into a stable orbit and returning control to the crew. In 
spite of appearances to the contrary, the space station and crew 
had never been in any real danger. 

Subsequent incidents had given Superman quite a series of scares 
over the next 24 hours. Initially, these "emergencies" had been 
false alarms like the space station's predicament. But then 
things began to happen that genuinely threatened the lives of 
large numbers of innocent people, including about thirty grammar 
school children on a field trip to the Metropolis Central 
Library; nearly killed by a time bomb, hidden under a manhole 
cover on a sidewalk right in front of the building. And then 
Clark Kent's friend, Jimmy Olson and his boss Perry White from 
the Daily Planet, had been threatened and then the entire 
population of the city of Metropolis! In each instance, Superman 
had been able to save the day, barely. 

By then, it was obvious to Clark that someone was toying with 
him. Finally, it was Lois Lane who discovered the source. Through 
sleuthing and snooping as only Lois could have done, she had 
identified and located the culprit. Hoping for yet another news 
scoop, she had tried to apprehend the man all by herself. He 
threw her against a wall like a rag doll, knocking her 
unconscious. 

A short time later, Clark found her, just as she was coming 
around. In a flash, the Man of Steel was at her side. As she sat 
on the floor leaning against the wall, still reeling from the 
blow to her head, Lois related to Clark her encounter. "Clark, 
when I latched onto him as he tried to get away, he threw me 
against the wall like I weighed nothing. I'm telling you, I may 
not be the biggest gal in the world, but the way he manhandled 
me, well, it just wasn't normal. It was like the weight of my 
body was nothing to him." 

Clark held onto Lois, his love. Guilt haunted him that he had not 
been there for her. But, rationally he knew that, even he could 
not keep up with her. In pursuit of a scoop, Lois (Mad Dog) 
Lane's bulldog tenacity simply would not be denied. Oh how the 
"Man of Steel" worried that someday he would lose her in some 
mishap. She just would not stop going out and looking for 
trouble. Clark held onto her and she let him as she leaned into 
his phenomenally powerful, yet oh so tender embrace. 

After several other provocations, the "culprit" revealed himself 
to Clark via a holographic recording. He was Lieutenant Ching, an 
officer in the New Kryptonian military. The New Krypton military 
had been initially reconstituted from the remnant crew of the 
lone surviving Kryptonian expeditionary star ship and air, ground 
and afloat units of the defense and security force of the New 
Krypton expedition. Ching was the son of one of the ground force 
officers. He was a junior officer in the second generation of New 
Krypton's defense force, part of the first generation to be 
raised from childhood on this new world. Ching had come to Earth 
aboard the star ship with the Kryptonian noblewoman, the Lady 
Zara, to whom, unbeknownst to him, Clark had been betrothed at 
birth. Even then, the star ship loitered just beyond Mars, 
screened by the red planet from Earth's telescopes. Ching and 
Zara had traveled from the star ship to earth in a small 
shuttlecraft, easily concealed near its landing zone here on 
Earth. 

When their home world perished, a remnant of the Kryptonian 
population, including Ching's parents and the parents of the Lady 
Zara had been off world with the New Krypton planetary 
expedition. The small colony of Kryptonians, as well as the crew 
of the Kryptonian star ship, orbiting the outpost planet had been 
obliged to start over on this new world they had dubbed "New 
Krypton." 

Life had been harsh for this handful of survivors, but they had 
managed to establish a foothold on this barren and hostile new 
world. In many respects, the planet resembled Krypton in its 
earliest years of human habitation. Like Krypton, it was a heavy 
gravity world and, like Krypton, it orbited a red sun. Ergo, 
these refugees lived there much as ordinary men do here on Earth. 
On New Krypton, their tuned-up genetics did not manifest as 
"super powers" as they would have in an Earth-like environment, 
but merely as the minimum essential biological traits necessary 
for survival in that hellish world. Very soon, this remnant had 
come to appreciate the heritage that had been bequeathed to them 
on Krypton. Over the previous ten thousand years, their 
forbearers had undergone the frightful process of natural 
selection, a ruthless "weeding out process" that had left the 
descendents of those who survived with their marvelously enhanced 
physiologies. And through ten millennia, these descendents had 
tamed their world, transforming it from hell into a veritable 
paradise. And now all of that was gone along with the billions of 
souls who had comprised the population of Planet Krypton. 

But the culture of Krypton had been in freefall for the past 
several generations. After having conquered their planet, the 
population had yearned for tranquility. And this had, in the end, 
been their ultimate undoing. After the New Krypton expedition had 
left on their mission, a mishap costing a substantial number of 
lives among the Kryptonian astronaut corps led to a general ban 
against space travel. Surviving Kryptonian astronauts wept as 
their magnificent starships were sent to the breakers for 
demolition. A proud, space-faring people had tethered themselves 
to their home world. Krypton society's former passion for 
scientific and technological achievement had degenerated to mere 
lip service. With a few notable exceptions such as those 
discoveries of the incomparably brilliant young scientist, Jor-El 
and his two similarly talented brothers, technological progress 
on Krypton had been reduced to a crawl. And then Jor-El had 
discovered the planetary dynamics that would soon destroy their 
world. Krypton's orbital track was shifting substantially "up 
sun." (That is, closer to their red giant star.) The resulting 
increase in the tidal effect was grinding and compressing 
Krypton's gigantic uranium core such that it would soon attain 
critical mass; turning the entire planet into a colossal nuclear 
bomb. Jor-El had reported his research and his conclusions to the 
global Science Council. Although these men were not the planetary 
political rulers as such, they held nearly as much sway over the 
political authorities as the mullahs in Iran on earth. There were 
the trappings of representative government, but subject to 
benevolent "guidance" of the scientific elite who composed an 
hereditary aristocracy on Krypton. Although the Krypton society 
claimed to be a "democratic meritocracy," the truth was that, 
although absolutely no one lived in poverty or want, the society 
did have its hidebound social stratifications. Jor-El and his 
brothers had railed passionately against this self-destructive 
social ossification. But the brothers "El" were grudging members 
themselves of the Kryptonian oligarchy. Jor-El had been young and 
politically inexperienced in the complex, often treacherous 
workings within the Science Council. He was overruled by the "old 
heads" of this elitist "board of directors" that was the Science 
Council, who had decreed, "There must be no panic." There would 
be no crash program to reconstitute the Kryptonian space program. 
There would be no fleet of space arcs, at least not sponsored or 
approved by the Science Council. Although the central authorities 
had turned a deaf ear to Jor-El's dire warnings, some had 
listened. The space arc under construction in the capital city of 
Kandor had been a collaborative venture of private interests and 
of the municipal government of the City of Kandor. That potential 
"exit" from the planet had been closed to all once Braniac had 
stolen the entire metropolitan area and immediately adjacent 
pastoral region, reducing it to Lilliputian size, imprisoning it 
inside a large bottle and spiriting it away. Brainiac had stolen 
Kandor with the intention of placing it on a remote planet over 
which he would rule, making the citizens of Kandor and cities 
from other worlds his subjects. And so, the majority within the 
Krypton Science Council preferred the same abject denial as the 
leadership of France of the 1930's. During the 1930's politicians 
in France had opted for national defense on the cheap, a static 
defense behind the Maginot Line. Lazar Carnot, the great pre- 
Napoleonic statesman-architect of French military power, must 
have rolled over in his grave! An adequate national defense had 
been rejected as "politically infeasible." As a result, 
representatives of the French General Staff were obliged in June 
1940 to meet in a Paris suburb with arguably one of nastiest 
pieces of work ever spawned by the human race and surrender their 
country, their homes and their families to the tender mercies of 
Adolph Hitler for four long years of Nazi occupation. Like France 
of the 1930's, Krypton society had lost its moral fitness to 
survive. Jor-El understood this all too well, to his profound 
chagrin. But, though officially silenced, like the Prophet 
Jeremiah of ancient Israel, he did not give up his quest to wake 
up his countrymen until the bitter end. Sadly for the population 
of Krypton, on their world as here on Earth, "A 'prophet' is 
never honored in his own country." 

Shortly before Krypton exploded, Jor-El transmitted a 
surreptitious signal to the colonists on New Krypton warning them 
not to return to Krypton or to allow their star ship to return. 
The starship would have been impounded and then destroyed and the 
passengers and crew would then have been marooned on the doomed 
planet along with the rest of Krypton's population. 

Jor-El had transmitted his data and conclusions regarding the 
fate of Krypton and, fortunately, the leaders of the New 
Kryptonian expedition had heeded his warnings. 

But, like an epidemic bacillus, vestiges of the old Kryptonian 
social and political system had infected this band of survivors. 
The social stratification had, if anything, made itself even more 
pronounced on New Krypton than on their home world. Once the size 
of the population had begun to increase, a Governing Council 
composed of male members of the "scientific aristocracy" and of 
senior officers of the military contingent had been constituted. 
Unlike old Krypton, this ruling council made no pretense of 
constitutionality, due process or rule of law. The New Kryptonian 
society rapidly degenerated to a system (and the term, "system," 
is a bit of a stretch) of semi- feudalism and "warlord-ism." The 
attendant factional infighting was a luxury this growing but 
still pitifully tenuous band of Kryptonian survivors could ill 
afford. 

The star ship had been dispatched to Earth with the Lady Zara and 
Lieutenant Ching to try to persuade Clark (Kal-El, son of Jor-El, 
their savior because of his warning) to come to New Krypton to 
lead the Governing Council and break the political impasse. 
Lieutenant Ching's "toying" with Clark had been a test, 
completely unauthorized, but in Ching's mind, quite necessary, to 
ascertain young Kal-El's worthiness for this role. But Clark 
would be obliged to abandon his home, Earth, his friends, the 
love of his life, Lois and everything he'd ever really known as a 
home world. Lois could not accompany Clark on this one-way 
journey to rejoin his people. As an infant, a marriage had been 
arranged between Kal-El and the Lady Zara. As a part of the 
"bargain," Kal-El would be obliged to marry the Lady Zara in 
accordance with the betrothal agreement between Zara's parents 
and his. Moreover, as an ordinary Terran, Lois could not possibly 
survive in the harsh environment of New Krypton. 

Initially, Clark had been reluctant to agree. His emotional ties 
to earth were strong. And he loved Lois fiercely. It would break 
his heart to leave her. But Lois, ever the valiant woman, had 
enjoined her man to go. She had seen what Clark, blinded by love, 
could not. Lois had insisted, "Human lives are at stake. Our 
private love is nothing compared to that. You must go." 

Ching, overwhelmed by Lois' selflessness, compassion and concern 
for his people, the people of the race of her love, exclaimed, 
"Why, Miss Lane! I've underestimated you!" 

Clark prepared to go with Zara and Ching. His parting from Lois 
and from his friends had been painful in the extreme. 

On Earth, Clark had developed many of his potential powers, but 
not all of them. Interestingly, a power the Kryptonians have even 
under a red sun is telepathy. Once fellow Kryptonians, Zara and 
Ching, had stoked this latent ability in him, Clark had found he 
could communicate telepathically even with Terrans. As their 
shuttlecraft rocketed away from Earth for rendezvous with the 
Kryptonian star ship, Clark called back to Lois with his mind. "I 
love you, Lois." Lois had replied both with her mind and with her 
voice, "I love you too, Clark." He had heard Lois' responses, 
both of them, mental and verbal. At that moment, he resolved in 
his own mind that he would find a way to help his kindred on New 
Krypton and still hold onto Lois, the love of his life. 

But just as the Kryptonian star ship had gotten under way on its 
journey home, another spacecraft from New Krypton arrived in 
Earth orbit. Lord Nor, one of the "warlords" on the Governing 
Council, leader of the pro-militarist faction had arrived with 
about twenty of his henchmen. They transported from their space 
craft down to Smallville where they immediately took over. 

After enslaving the citizens of Smallville, herding them into a 
barbed-wire compound at night and working them like animals 
during the day, including Jonathan and Martha Kent, and limiting 
them to below subsistence rations and water, a small delegation 
of Smallvillites approached one of Lord Nor's henchmen begging 
that their rations be increased. Nor's man relayed their petition 
to his overlord who readily gave his consent saying, "Yes, I 
agree. Kill the members of the delegation and distribute their 
rations to the rest." 

A television news crew was dispatched to Smallville in hopes of 
getting some footage of the New Kryptonians. They had not known 
of the hostile intentions of these aliens. Lord Nor "graciously" 
agreed to an on camera interview with Metropolis local network 
affiliate "info babe," Jane Abney, a roving reporter of the 
regular weekday evening local news broadcast team. 

During the interview, the young woman asked Lord Nor about rumors 
of restrictions on freedom of travel to and from Smallville. Lord 
Nor replied. "Well, Jane, the citizens of Smallville are free to 
come and go as they wish but I think they would be safer if they 
just remained here under my 'protection.'" 

"And why is that, Lord Nor?"

"Oh well, Jane," Nor answered in a didactic tone, "because, you 
see, if they try to leave, I will kill them!" 

And then Lord Nor snatched the microphone from Jane's hand and 
proceeded to lay down his ultimatum to the people of earth: 
Submission or death. "I don't need you and I don't like you. I 
will graciously permit you to live to serve me. You may worship 
me as something of a god. If you puny weaklings try to resist, I 
will kill you." 

The Kryptonian star ship, cruising toward the edge of our solar 
system, before jumping to trans- light velocity, intercepted the 
television signals as news of Lord Nor's ultimatum was broadcast 
worldwide. Clark had no problem persuading the crew of the 
Kryptonian star ship to come about and return to earth. None of 
the Kryptonians on that star ship had any intention of leaving 
the people of earth to the dubious "mercies" of Lord Nor. Indeed, 
it had been the machinations of this warlord that had motivated 
them to come to Earth in the first place to ask for Clark's 
help! 

Clark, although born on Krypton, had been rocketed off the planet 
moments before it exploded. He had left Krypton as a toddler. He 
had no knowledge of the Byzantine workings of this New Krypton 
Governing Council. But, as Kal-El, son of Jor-El, he had the 
right, as a Kryptonian aristocrat, to serve on it. Upon his 
arrival on New Krypton, he would be elected head of the council, 
marry the Lady Zara and function as a political counterweight to 
Lord Nor and his warlord faction. Nor's agenda, should his 
faction gain ascendancy, would be interplanetary conquest. There 
were a host of worlds under yellow suns, inhabited by intelligent 
life, to be conquered and dominated by this tiny remnant from the 
race of Kryptonian "über mentschen." 

But Lord Nor, having discovered the plan to skew the balance of 
power on the council against his faction, had decided to move 
forward with his plans of conquest. He and his henchmen had 
followed the New Kryptonian star ship to earth. 

By the time the star ship returned to earth, not only had Nor 
subjugated the people of Smallville; But because the people of 
Metropolis had refused to submit to his demand for surrender, he 
had unleashed his henchmen to wreak havoc on the population. With 
their heat vision, they blasted away randomly. No one, not even 
children were exempt from their merciless "pogrom." To amuse 
themselves, these super men would swoop down, seizing cars, buses 
and commuter train carriages, hurling them high into the air, 
allowing them to crash back to Earth killing the occupants. 
Particularly outrageous was their preference for school buses. 
Casualties numbered in the thousands. 

The Air Forces of the United States and of several other nations 
had converged on Metropolis, trying to defend the city against 
the onslaught. Nor's Kryptonian super thugs had swatted them down 
like nothing more than pesky flies, blasting the defending jets 
with their heat vision or simply colliding with them with their 
super hard indestructible bodies. Of particular note was a 
suicide mission flown by an heroic band of Russian navy pilots. 
An entire regiment of Russian Navy Sukhoi-33 fighter jets had 
flown from their base on the Kola Peninsula over the North Pole 
directly to Metropolis, refueling mid-air en route. They had 
arrived over Metropolis and immediately entered the melee. All of 
those heroic Russian aviators had been lost along with several 
hundred U.S. and Canadian aviators. Carnage on the ground was 
staggering, both among the civilian population and among military 
formations that had rushed to defense of the city. 

The Kryptonian star ship arrived directly over Metropolis. At 
first, the people of Earth had presumed they were here to augment 
Nor's brigands. A young naval aviator, flying his heavily armed 
FA-18 super hornet fighter jet into the side of the star ship had 
given his life in a last ditch effort to defend his countrymen in 
the city below. His aircraft had exploded harmlessly against the 
super hard hull of the alien star ship. This brave US navy pilot 
was the last to die in the short-lived but brutal inter-planetary 
"Battle of Metropolis." 

And then it was over. Representatives of the Governing Council 
aboard the star ship had enjoined Nor and his men to stand down. 
But, aside from that, there was surprisingly little in the way of 
sanctions against Lord Nor for his outrages against the people of 
Smallville and of Metropolis. Truth be known, most the members of 
the Council, except for Clark, were scared to death of Nor. They 
had fallen into the same trap as so often we have here on earth 
of appeasing the implacable. But, in their defense, it should be 
remembered that these men understood only too well, that an inter 
Nicene war was a luxury the Kryptonian remnant could ill afford. 
Nor understood full well the jeopardy to his people of such a 
conflict, but he couldn't have cared less. He would rule or they 
could all perish for all he cared. 

Clark had met privately with Lady Zara and told her that he had 
no interest in marrying her, but that he wanted to cooperate with 
her to break the political impasse in the ruling council. She had 
enthusiastically agreed. She was in love with Ching and she fully 
understood that Clark's heart belonged to Lois, not to her. They 
agreed to collaborate and to keep their romantic interests 
secret, at least for now. 

But, unbeknownst to them both, Nor had his own operatives aboard 
the star ship, spies who had bugged Clark's and Lady Zara's 
quarters. Nor presented a recording of Clark's conversation with 
Lady Zara to the council. Clark was hauled before a "kangaroo 
court" composed of members of the ruling council and convicted of 
treason and conspiracy to commit the "crime" of "race mixing" 
with a non-Kryptonian woman. On Krypton, capital punishment had 
long since been abolished, but not so on New Krypton. Soon after 
news came to New Krypton of destruction of their home world, 
capital punishment had been reinstated. Their reasoning: The 
emergency situation they faced left no room for such sentimental 
notions as personal freedoms, rule of law or sanctity of human 
life. Their lives were harsh and they would live under 
iron-fisted authoritarian rule, with draconian punishment of any 
infraction. Clark had been condemned to death and Lord Nor became 
head of the Governing Council by default. Lord Nor immediately 
issued his first edicts. Clark's execution would be carried out 
at once. And then Nor would the become dictator of the New 
Kryptonian society. All of the New Kryptonians would become his 
subjects and all non-Kryptonians they came upon, starting with 
the population of Earth, would be slaves. 

Clark had submitted to his sentence without a struggle. He had 
allowed himself to be led like a sheep to slaughter to a device 
that would reduce his body to a stream of molecules to be flared 
off into space. This infernal contraption would destroy even 
"Superman's" otherwise indestructible body. As the sentence was 
about to be carried out, Ching approached Councilor Trey, a 
senior member of the Governing Council with a quirk in the old 
Kryptonian legal code. An obscure, nearly forgotten, provision in 
the code stipulated that any Kryptonian accused of a capital 
offense had the right to "trial by ordeal," mortal combat with 
his accuser. Since capital punishment had been banned on Krypton, 
this provision no longer had any meaningful application. But with 
re- enactment of capital punishment came also this provision, 
ipso facto. 

If Ching had not chosen a military career, he could have made a 
great lawyer. He argued eloquently for implementation of this 
provision of the code and prevailed with a majority of the 
Council. Clark's execution was immediately halted and he was 
given the equivalent of one Earth day, 24 hours, to prepare for a 
fight to the death with his accuser, Lord Nor. 

Clark had a thoroughgoing knowledge of all of the martial arts 
here on Earth. And during most of the time allotted to them, 
Ching had schooled Clark in the finer points of Kryptonian 
martial arts. Because they could communicate telepathically, and 
because of Clark's super intelligence and super speed here on 
Earth, he proved a very quick study. Within a matter of hours, he 
had assimilated all of Ching's hand-to-hand combat skills, hard 
earned over a lifetime. 

The hour of combat was at hand. Clark and Nor were ordered to 
rendezvous on the ground in a relatively isolated section of the 
Metropolis warehouse district. The fate of the populations of two 
worlds, Earth and New Krypton, hung in the balance. The outcome 
would mean either freedom for both or slavery for both. Nor 
gained the initial advantage, but as the struggle continued, 
Clark gained the upper hand, finally knocking Lord Nor 
unconscious. New Kryptonian law stipulated that Clark must kill 
the helpless Nor, but he had sworn to devote his life to 
protection of life, all life. He could not will himself to 
administer the coup de grace. Killing was simply repugnant to his 
nature. 

But any notion that Lord Nor had ever intended to abide by the 
rules of this "engagement" was purely illusory. Nor had no such 
intention. His henchmen had flashed into view and immediately 
piled on the super man, pummeling him mercilessly. Even the 
mighty Superman could not hope to prevail against this mob of 
Kryptonian super thugs. Unbeknownst to the Kryptonians, US Army 
Colonel Mitchell Cash had decided not to leave the fate of his 
world in the hands of these alien interlopers. He had led a small 
detachment from his command to Star Labs in Metropolis. They had 
forced their way into the facility and absconded with samples of 
green Kryptonite known to be stored there for safekeeping. A 
rocket-propelled grenade (RPG) was retrofitted with a chemical 
warhead, laced with Kryptonite dust. Kryptonite is non-lethal to 
the humans of Earth, provided the exposure is of short duration. 
But exposure even in relatively small dosages will bring down any 
Kryptonian immediately and after only a short time, they will 
die. 

Colonel Cash ordered one of his men to fire the weapon into the 
melee'. The fact that the warhead was as deadly to Superman as to 
Nor and his henchmen mattered not one iota. The life of one man, 
even of Superman, was secondary in the Colonel's mind to the fate 
of mankind here on Earth. 

But, as luck would have it, Clark was at the bottom of the pile. 
The bodies of his assailants had shielded him from the worst of 
the deadly kryptonite radiation. But Lord Nor and all of his 
assailants had perished. 

The political impasse on New Krypton had been resolved by Lord 
Nor's death. Clark was free to marry Lois and Ching, 
notwithstanding his status as a commoner in Kryptonian society, 
was free to marry his love, the Lady Zara. The Kryptonians agreed 
that, given the horrors inflicted upon the people of Smallville 
and of Metropolis that it would be best if they simply left. But 
the delegation from the Governing Council had demanded that this 
"rogue" US Army Colonel be tried for murder. They grudgingly 
agreed to accept the venue of a US Army Court Martial. It was, of 
course, not a fair trial. Everyone knew that the heroic Colonel 
Cash would be a "sacrificial lamb" to the demands of the New 
Krypton Governing Council. Both Clark and Lieutenant Ching had 
argued passionately before the Court Martial on behalf of the 
Colonel, but the outcome was a foregone conclusion. Colonel Cash 
was cashiered from the Army and sentenced to confinement for life 
in the Federal Penitentiary at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. He was 
paroled after serving but one year of his sentence. With the New 
Kryptonians and their star ship out of the way, it was decided 
there was no longer any need to hold Colonel Cash in custody. Men 
of all ranks from militaries around the world, even from such 
hostile states as North Korea, contributed generously to a fund 
to replace the Colonel's forfeited Army retirement pension. This 
had been as much defiance of the New Kryptonians ascharity to 
Colonel Cash. 

The injustice foisted upon this heroic and resourceful army 
officer, the horrors inflicted upon the people of Smallville and 
of Metropolis, as well as Lord Nor's threats against all mankind, 
had fueled a festering resentment and hostility among all of the 
military establishments of the world. This hatred and suspicion 
had been faithfully inculcated among raw enlisted recruits and 
officer cadets and naval midshipmen all over the world. No matter 
the hostilities among the nations of Earth, the militaries of our 
world were united around one issue: hatred and suspicion of 
anyone or anything Kryptonian. 

The fact that both Superman and Lieutenant Ching had argued 
passionately first for the innocence and then for leniency for 
Colonel Cash did little to allay resentment and suspicion of 
Superman and of all Kryptonians among military men all over the 
world. This had hurt Clark to the core of his soul. But, he felt 
he could not, in all fairness, blame the fighting men of Earth 
for their suspicion and bitter resentment. He resolved to do his 
best to adopt the least threatening posture he could with respect 
to military formations of Earth; approaching them only when 
absolutely necessary and then in a way that even the most 
paranoid and trigger happy military commanders would interpret as 
non-threatening. 

Chapter 1 The Third Son

It was into this milieu that young Matthew Mark Kent had been 
born. He was the third of three boys born to Lois and Clark and 
the only one among the three not born with super powers. Mark's 
two older brothers, Jonathan Luke and Lane Clark had been born 
with all of their father's marvelous abilities. Clark had been 
obliged to gestate the two older boys in specially constructed 
artificial wombs. Lois' body could never have delivered the 
substantial volumes of nutrients needed for proper development of 
the fetuses. And even if such had been possible, her fragile womb 
could never have carried these super babies to full term. 

But Mark had been different. He was completely normal, with all 
his fingers and toes; and he had been healthy as a horse, but 
with no super powers. He had been a beautiful baby, but smaller 
than either Jon or Lane. Both Jon and Lane had been "long 
babies," bespeaking their height once they reached maturity. Mark 
was shorter; more compact, but with the sturdy build of a young 
bull. Clark had decided to shield young Mark from any knowledge 
of his or of Jon or Lane's super powers. Neither Jon nor Lane had 
agreed with their father's decision to blindside Mark. They both 
adored Mark. How they had longed to take their little brother 
along with them on their trans-global jaunts as they flew all 
over the world as easily as any ordinary young boy might've 
walked around the block. 

But they did not violate their father's wishes. They were 
fiercely loyal to him and unswervingly obedient. Clark had 
reasoned, with Lois, Jon and Lane that to read Mark in on the 
"family secret" would place him in needless jeopardy. But, 
perhaps, closer to the truth was Clark's nagging fear that his 
son would hate him because he had not been endowed with super 
powers, as had his two older brothers. Clark could not have 
withstood that. He loved his youngest son, indeed all three of 
his sons. 

His mom and dad, Jonathan and Martha, although they understood 
Clark's disappointment, had been thrilled that their super son 
could father a normal child. Meaning no offense, they had been 
careful to keep their feelings to themselves. Some of the joys of 
parenting a normal child had been denied them in young Clark. So 
now they doted on little Mark. Not that they loved Jon or Lane 
any less, but for Jonathan and Martha, Mark was unique, special. 
By his mere existence, Mark had forged a special new link to 
their own son, Clark, that they had never dreamed could have been 
possible. Things had come full circle. They had raised a super 
boy to young adulthood. Now, in turn, their son would raise a 
normal little boy to carry forward the Kent family name. 

Notwithstanding his lack of super powers, Mark's Kryptonian 
heritage was evident almost from the start. He was as brilliant 
as his two older brothers, if not moreso. And his strength and 
agility were phenomenal for a young Terran. The little boy was 
driven to achievement almost from day one and a little daredevil 
to boot. 

One day, while Lois and Clark had been away, young Mark had 
climbed a tree in the back yard of the Kent family home. A branch 
had folded under the child's weight and given way. Before Jon or 
Lane could get to him, he had fallen to the ground and broken his 
arm. Jon had called to his dad telepathically and Clark and Lois 
had rushed home. They took Mark to their family doctor to have 
his arm set and casted. Through it all, Mark had refused to cry, 
explaining, "Only sissies cry. And I am not a sissy." But Jon and 
Lane had slipped away and cried their eyes out for their little 
brother and his pain. 

Throughout middle school, high school and university, Mark had 
been a star gymnast. Had he chosen to do so, he could've been an 
Olympic gold medalist. But he had an even greater passion, 
flying. He had worked part-time evenings and weekends to save his 
money for flying lessons. He had made his first solo flight on 
the earliest legal date, his eighteenth birthday. In university, 
he had enrolled in the Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps 
(ROTC) and, in his senior year, had been appointed battalion 
commander. He graduated from university in aerospace engineering 
Suma Cum Laude. He was commissioned an Ensign in the US Navy and 
posted immediately to primary flight training at Naval Air 
Station, Pensacola, Florida. Upon completion of primary training, 
he was assigned to advanced jet training at Naval Air Station 
Kingsville, Texas. Upon graduation from flight training, first in 
his class, he was given his first choice of fleet assignments, an 
FA-37 fighter attack squadron on the west coast, part of USS 
Nimitz' air wing. 

Nimitz was by then the oldest carrier in the US Navy Pacific 
fleet, but having undergone a total refit, she was equipped with 
all the very latest technology. Her nuclear power plant had been 
completely replaced with the navy's newest nuclear fusion 
propulsion system. Trusty old Nimitz had been transformed into 
virtually a brand new ship! Mark had chosen this assignment 
mainly as a matter of timing. He would finish his FA-37 Bearcat 
aircraft "type training" just as Nimitz was ready to leave 
homeport for a six-month deployment to the Western Pacific 
(WESTPAC). Mark had wanted to get as much operational flying 
experience as humanly possible during his first at-sea tour of 
duty. Chapter 2 Secret Mission 

Shortly before the squadron was ready to leave their home base at 
Naval Air Station Lemore, California, for embarkation aboard USS 
Nimitz, young Mark had been summoned to the office of his 
squadron CO. 

"Sir, Lieutenant Junior Grade Kent reporting as ordered."

Commander Riley replied. "At ease Kent. Shut the door and have a 
seat." 

Commander Riley offered the boy coffee from his urn over in the 
corner. "Just make it yourself. All the fixin's are right 
there." 

"Yes sir. Thanks."

Commander Riley moved around from behind his desk and took a 
chair alongside Mark and motioned for him to sit. 

"Son, what I am about to share with you is a secret so highly 
classified that only a handful of men in the entire Navy know 
about it. It involves a potential threat so lethal that the air 
forces of a number of nations around the world have forged an ad 
hoc alliance to counter it." 

Mark looked down for a moment. Then he looked up at his CO and 
mumbled, "Superman…" 

Commander Riley's jaw fell open. "Well, son, you sure know how to 
cut right to the chase! You figured that out with almost nothing 
to go on. I'm impressed!" 

"Well, sir. I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to figure 
out what our most lethal threat would be. What is the one single 
threat on this Earth against which we have absolutely no, zip, 
zero nada defense? Well, sir, I think the answer to that is 
fairly obvious. Superman's intentions, so far, have seemed 
peaceful enough. And I'm willing to concede that appearances are 
probably genuine. But we're not in the business of second 
guessing intentions. We base our war plans on capabilities of a 
potential threat. And, with his bare hands that," Mark paused, 
"man is capable of precipitating an extinction level event on 
this planet and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it." 

Commander Riley's countenance darkened. He shifted gears slightly 
as he looked into Mark's eyes. "Son, you're right on with your 
first point. But your second point is not entirely accurate." 

Mark stiffened. "Oh?"

"Mark," the skipper changed to the boy's first name, "what I am 
about to tell you is the most highly classified secret in all of 
the US defense establishment or that of any defense establishment 
on this planet…" 

Mark interrupted. "Oh, so you have found a way."

The CO looked hard at Mark. "Son, before I go further, I must 
warn you. If we think there is even the slightest chance that you 
might compromise the secret I am about to share with you, you 
will be killed, no questions asked. You will die in some freak 
accident, very tragic, end of story. Do I make myself 
unambiguously clear? Now is your very last chance to back out of 
this. Once I go on, there's no turning back. Do you understand 
that clearly?" 

Mark looked his commanding officer square in the eye. "Sir, I 
think I know where this is going. And, Skipper, I want you to 
know, I am honored that you would even consider me for a mission 
like this. I will guard this information with my life, I promise 
you. If it ever came to that, sir, I'd take myself out. But, come 
hell or high water, I will never betray this mission or my 
country or my species." 

The CO nodded gravely. "I see, Mark, that you appreciate the 
gravity of all this. And if I didn't trust you and if you weren't 
such a damn good stick, I would never have come this far with 
you. But I am gratified no end that you 'get it' concerning just 
how important this really is. There are no more than five 
thousand or so men on this planet who know the full scope of this 
mission. We are an elite brotherhood, sworn to defense of our 
species. Our number includes pilots and ground crew from most of 
the major air forces on Earth and even some of the not-so-major 
air forces. You might be surprised to know that your brethren 
include aviators from nations as disparate as the NATO nations, 
Russia, China, Japan, India, Pakistan, Taiwan, Israel, Egypt, 
Syria, South Korea, South Africa, Argentina, Brazil and Chile. 
But also even Iran and North Korea! Politics be-damned. We're all 
in this together. This goes beyond loyalty to country, Mark. You 
called it bang on a few moments ago. This is a mission to defend 
the human species here on Earth. God forbid that Superman or 
beings like him would ever cop an "attitude" with us. But if they 
ever do, we will be ready. We've covered all the bases; left 
nothing to chance. In fact, at this very moment, this room is 
covered by a "null-silencer." Our voices absolutely cannot be 
heard outside this room. An electronic device perfectly 
neutralizes all the sound waves emitted from this room. Even if 
Superman or any of his kind were to focus 100% of their super 
hearing on this room right now, they could hear nothing. We've 
interrogated Lex Luthor. He has no idea what our angle was. But 
he did tell us that it's the little things that Superman uses to 
outsmart us. Little things like not shielding conversations like 
this one." 

Mark nodded. He was very impressed.

"I'll do my best sir, my very best."

"I know you will, Mark. Now to explain how all this works. 
Superman has not given us the slightest reason to suspect any 
hostile intent on his part. We are not dealing here with 
perceived intent as you correctly observed. We are dealing with 
the man's capabilities. And, yes, he most certainly is capable of 
inducing an extinction level event here on earth, as are others 
of his kind. And there's a whole planet load of them out there 
somewhere and, at least some of them are just waiting for a 
chance to come back here and clobber us. Until recently, we here 
on earth were totally dependent upon the goodwill of the people 
of New Krypton to protect us from a handful of their 'bad 
apples.' But now, we have a little ace of our own up our sleeve. 
Are you familiar at all with any of the components of the old 
'star wars' program from the administration of President 
Reagan?" 

"Sir, yes sir, I am. And I bet I know where this is going. You've 
built a thermo-nuclear pumped gamma x-ray laser weapon with 
lasing rods that 'modulate' the gamma x-rays to a frequency at or 
near the wavelength of 'Kryptonite-Golf' (green Kryptonite). It 
would be a one-way mission as best I can tell. To detach the 
weapon from the attacking aircraft, allowing pilot and plane 
escape to safe distance before detonation would give the target 
way too much time to escape or counter attack." 

Again, Commander Riley was slack jawed. "Mark, you're bang on 
again! I have to ask you. Has anyone discussed this mission with 
you before?" 

"Sir, no sir. But there are only so many options available, given 
the technologies we have in hand, at least that I know of. Some 
of us guys in the wardroom have bandied about ideas on how we 
could bring off something like this. This is fairly way out 
stuff, sir, but it seems like the option most likely to give us 
any chance at success. And, Skipper, I can tell you this. If it 
ever came to that, there's not a man in this squadron who 
wouldn't volunteer to go, even knowing it would be a one- way 
mission. And that's right down to the most junior, wet behind the 
ears white hat we've got." 

"Well, Mark, the important thing is could you fly a suicide 
mission? It goes against all our naval traditions. We've had 
pilots fly almost hopeless missions before. Torpedo Eight in 
World War Two was a prime example. But that was fortunes of war. 
Those pilots did not launch off their deck on a premeditated 
'kamikaze' mission as you would be doing." 

Again, Mark looked his commanding officer square in the eye and 
said, "Sir, if it ever came to that, I want you to understand 
very clearly, I would not hesitate to do my duty. It would be an 
honor beyond words to fly that mission. And if it ever fell to me 
to do it, I would do it and I would not fail!" 

Commander Riley nodded. "Your passion is typical of our mission 
pilots around the world, Mark. But where does yours come from? 
What is fueling your passion for this mission? I need to know 
that." 

Softly, Mark replied, "Sir, my mom and dad were in Metropolis and 
my grandparents were in Smallville when 'they' came." 

"Well, son, that certainly makes it clear enough," Commander 
Riley replied. You'll detach from the squadron for training at 
Naval Air Station, Fallon, Nevada. You'll return to the squadron 
just before we're ready to get under way. Any questions?" 

"Sir, no sir!"

"Very well, Mark, thank you. That'll be all."

Mark rose from his chair, and said, "Sir, yes sir. Good 
afternoon, sir." 

His performance at NAS, Fallon had been a perfect four-oh. There 
was no question that, should the need arise Mark would be ready. 

Chapter 3 The Family Secret

After graduation from high school as class valedictorian, the 
third of the three Kent sons to do so, Mark had announced to his 
parents that he intended to apply for a Naval ROTC scholarship at 
Rice University in Houston, Texas. Lois and Clark, both confirmed 
pacifists, had been quietly chagrined, but they knew Mark well 
enough to know there would be no dissuading him, so they gave him 
their blessing, reluctantly. Mark knew and understood their 
reservations. He loved his mom and dad dearly and, indeed, deeply 
admired their idealism. But he saw himself as more of a realist. 
He left it to folks like his parents to be the visionaries. 
Somebody needed to see things as they really are and behave 
accordingly. It was, in large measure, his desire to protect his 
family that he chose to volunteer for military service. He had 
always known of the horrors of Smallville and of Metropolis. 
Everybody did. But it had never been talked about by anyone in 
his family. It had just always been understood that this was 
never ever to be discussed. And there was another perennially 
nagging issue for Mark. Since his childhood, Mark had always 
sensed something in his father, Clark; something that he had 
taken as mild disapproval. Mark could never quite put his finger 
on it, but he felt there was something about him that had caused 
his dad disappointment. 

One Friday night during his junior year in high school, after a 
gymnastics meet during which he'd turned in the best performance 
of his life up to that time, taking top honors, he had overheard 
his father, crying. He could hear his mother, Lois, speaking 
words of comfort to her husband. He could not understand exactly 
what they were saying, but, somehow, he had known it was about 
him. Mark had presumed it had something to do with that 
disappointment he'd always sensed in his father. He was 
heart-broken. "What else can I do, Mark pondered? Nothing I try 
works. Nothing!" Mark steeled himself to what he saw as the 
inevitable. He loved his dad fiercely. He would have done 
anything, anything in his power to please him. Mark trusted 
implicitly in his father's sense of fairness. He concluded, "If 
it were something Dad thought I could do anything about, he would 
surely come and tell me. So, it's obviously something over which 
I have no control." From that time on, grimly, he simply accepted 
that he could never live up to his father's expectations, 
whatever they were, so he would simply do his best in whatever he 
undertook; not for his father's approval, which he had concluded 
was unattainable, but simply because it was the right thing to 
do. 

Clark would have been mortified had he known this. His love for 
his son and his pride in him were beyond words. His 
disappointment was not in his son but for him. The night of 
Mark's magnificent gymnastics performance, taking top honors in 
every single event, Clark had wept for what his son had been 
denied. He was achieving so much with what talents and gifts he 
had. But Clark wept because he felt his son had been "robbed" of 
his 'birthright,' to soar like an eagle, to run faster than a 
locomotive or a speeding bullet, to bend cold steel in his bare 
hands; and there was nothing, nothing he could do about it. Clark 
had not understood that he carried a rare rogue gene, a throwback 
from those earliest generations on Krypton before the merciless 
weeding out process had nearly eliminated it completely. The odds 
of two Kryptonians who carried this gene marrying and having 
children were almost infinitesimal. And, even then, the 
probability of even two such parents giving birth to a child 
without the special traits needed for survival on Krypton were 
exceedingly remote; less than one hundred twenty to one. But Lois 
was Terran, not Kryptonian. And the odds came to full fruition in 
their third child. Had Mark's mother been Kryptonian, he would 
almost certainly have been born a super being. Even Lois had 
borne two super boys before giving birth to Mark. On Krypton, 
without aggressive medical intervention, Mark could never have 
survived pregnancy in the womb of a Kryptonian mother. He would 
have been stillborn within matter of days or even hours. 

But, here on Earth, he had a chance for a happy, healthy, normal 
life. Clark and Lois had resolved to give him that. And Jon and 
Lane had gone along, albeit reluctantly. They had never agreed 
with their dad that Mark should be kept in the dark about the 
family secret. 

They compensated, showering their baby brother with love and 
attention. They were crazy about Mark. They attended his 
gymnastics meets faithfully. They were his biggest fans. They 
were filled with pride that their normal little brother would be 
such a magnificent achiever, both academically and athletically. 
For Jon and Lane, Mark had been more than just a beloved little 
brother. He had also been vicarious validation for them. As super 
boys, since so many of their achievements came so easily, they 
seemed not to count for much. But Mark, their baby brother, 
though marvelously gifted for a Terran, had been obliged to 
strive for his achievements. That he had been nevertheless, so 
magnificently accomplished, especially in academics and 
athletics, was to Jon and Lane some of an indication of what 
might have been. 

And Mark returned his brothers' love and attention in kind, 
occasionally "ambushing" them with some little gesture or other 
of his affection for them. But he'd always sensed that Jon and 
Lane were a pair and that he was somehow different from them; 
that it would always be Jon and Lane… and Mark, as though his two 
older brothers were two sides of the same coin while he was 
something else. This never bothered Mark. It had never occurred 
to him that there could've been anything wrong with this state of 
affairs. He just chalked it off to a difference in personalities 
and interests. But Mark had always seen Jon and Lane as the two 
coolest older bros a little brother could possibly ask for. 

After graduation, Mark had been commissioned an Ensign in the 
Navy. He applied and was accepted for flight training. It was the 
only time he and his dad had ever exchanged harsh words. Clark 
had been beside himself with anguish. 

"Mark, he exclaimed, do you have any idea what this news will do 
to your mom. She and I will be worried sick about you! Please, 
son, I've never asked you for anything. But, Mark, I'm begging 
you, please don't do this to your mom and me." 

For the life of him, Mark could not understand why his dad would 
begrudge him his career as a Navy pilot. Clark had risked his 
life countless times in pursuit of some news story or other. And 
his mom had been no less daring in pursuit of her career. Mark 
had retorted. "Dad, you have no right to lay anything like that 
on me. How many times when we kids were comin' up did you or Mom 
or both of you go off chasing some story or other while we kids 
waited home with Ma and Pa, wondering if you'd even make it back 
alive? Well now, Dad, the worm has turned. Now it's your turn to 
stay home and bite your nails, worried sick every time the phone 
or the front door bell rings." 

Mark had already assumed that, no matter what he did, his dad 
would not approve, so he just went ahead and followed his dream. 
He was sorry for his dad's disapproval, but he decided he would 
just have to live with that. He'd long since given up hope of 
ever living up to his dad's expectations, whatever in the heck 
those were. 

Clark had been compelled to capitulate. By hiding the family 
secret from Mark, he had unwittingly subjected his youngest son 
to needless worry about his own safety during, were it not for 
his invulnerability, what would have been hazardous news 
gathering assignments; worry that both Jon and Lane had been 
spared because, unlike Mark, they had known of their father's 
invulnerability. Because he had kept his true nature hidden from 
Mark, Clark was in no position to protest that he had never been 
in any real physical danger. 

In spite of his fear for his son's safety, Clark was secretly 
proud of him, especially that he had somehow found his way into 
the sky, even without super powers. How he had loved flying with 
his two super sons, Jon and Lane, but oh how he'd longed to fly 
with Mark! But then, there had been that time when Mark had flown 
his first solo cross-country. Clark had been there, flying with 
his son, just aft of his son's aircraft, just barely outside the 
young pilot's field of view. Now and again, now that Mark was a 
Navy jet pilot, Superman would streak off to steal a few minutes 
flying with his son, even though Mark had always been blissfully 
unaware. 

Superman had no inkling of the special mission, the secret 
mission of the air forces of the world to take him out should the 
need ever arise. The military establishments of Earth had pulled 
off the coup of the century putting this one over on the "Man of 
Steel." It was a manifestation of military discipline and mutual 
loyalty and trust quite unique in the annals of human history. 
That such secrecy could be maintained across so many national and 
cultural barriers, in spite of ethnic and nationalist 
animosities, was powerful testimony to the resilience and 
adaptability of the human species here on Earth. The mission had 
been designated the "Single Element Operational Plan." (SEOP) 
"Single Element," because the primary attack profile employed 
only a single aircraft. A swarm of war birds converging on 
Superman had been dismissed as "too obvious" to have any 
likelihood of success. A "swarm" would only be employed as a last 
ditch effort to save the mission in the event of failure of the 
first attack wherein the element of surprise had been lost. The 
world had been divided into 360 patrol sectors. At any given 
moment, 24/7, SEOP missions were being flown in something of a 
"zone defense." Once the decision had been made and the attacking 
aircraft designated, the battle shifted from zone to man on man. 
The attacking aircraft would be vectored to its attack fix. The 
pilot would aim the weapon and detonate. The nuclear explosion 
would destroy the aircraft, pilot and weapon, but not before 
gamma X-rays lased to the frequency of Kryptonite- Golf were 
beamed at the target. The resultant shock wave would atomize the 
target, the hostile Kryptonian, be it Superman or someone else, 
who threatened the security of Earth. 

The battle plan was fairly straightforward. If it were determined 
that the Kryptonian threat was someone other than Superman, and 
Superman adopted a defensive posture on behalf of Earth, his 
struggle with the Kryptonian attacker would be allowed to play 
itself out. Perhaps Superman might prevail over the Kryptonian 
attacker. If so, and if SEOP were kept under wraps, the secret 
would not be compromised and the weapon would be ready and 
available for use in the future, should the need arise. 

As a part of the SEOP battle management system, special sensor 
packages had been retrofitted to a number of communication 
satellites in geo stationary orbit. The body of a Kryptonian 
behaves under a yellow sun somewhat like a storage battery, but 
also as something of a focus lens and amplifier of the sun's 
radiant energy. But even a Kryptonian can absorb only such much 
solar energy. And, here on Earth their maximum potential is 
reached within a fraction of a second after initial exposure to 
the radiation of the yellow sun. The farther away a Kryptonian 
travels from a yellow star, the longer it takes for their bodies 
to attain maximum energy "saturation." But, whatever the 
distance, once maximum power absorption level has been attained, 
energy "overflow" occurs; manifest as alpha radiation that can be 
detected at great distances. The satellite mounted alpha 
radiation sensors in geo-stationary orbit about the earth were 
linked in a global network such that Superman's location could be 
determined at any time, so long as he was in flight above the 
ground. Superman's position, course and speed would be then 
"triangulated" by at least three satellite sensors and relayed to 
every SEOP command center on Earth. There was no way Superman 
could know he was being tracked since these sensors operated in 
passive mode only. 

It was imperative that the fact and the means of this sensor 
tracking remain secret. All of Superman's alpha emissions came 
from his head and his hands. His costume attenuated emissions 
from the rest of his body. Gloves and a ski mask would have been 
all Superman needed to defeat the SEOP alpha emission tracking 
sensors. 

SEOP patrol aircraft around the world were continuously apprised 
of Superman's location in flight and the primary "go-bird" was 
always clearly designated among the international fleet of 
patrolling aircraft. 

Pilot mission training had been done "zip lip" in ground based 
flight simulators. No possibility of mission profiling by 
Superman could be permitted. All SEOP aircraft flew spurious 
mission profiles in order to avoid detection. Function of the 
SEOP weapons had been painstakingly disguised. There were no 
Kryptonite components. The weapon's Kryptonite radiation was to 
be artificially induced by specially constructed laser aiming 
rods. Detection of the true purpose of a SEOP weapon by Superman 
or by any Kryptonian would have been highly improbable. 

Chapter 4 Close Encounter

As Mark was flying a night SEOP mission over the southwest 
Pacific just west of the Philippines, his father had chosen to 
"steal" a few moments of joy by surreptitiously flying in 
formation with his son. It was a pitch-dark night; no way his son 
could possibly detect his presence. But, of course, Mark had 
known of Superman's presence. The SEOP sensing grid detected 
Superman's approach to Mark's SEOP patrol jet and flashed a 
warning to Mark's "home plate," USS Nimitz. Nimitz relayed the 
warning to an orbiting E2-C radar surveillance plane which had in 
turn relayed to Mark the warning "Babylon extreme" (approaching 
SEOP target). All subsequent tactical transmissions would be via 
encrypted data link direct to his onboard tactical computer. The 
readouts would be displayed on his cockpit CRT dead center on his 
instrument panel with redundant readout on his head up display 
(HUD). Aside from target relative position, altitude and closure 
rate, the only possible subsequent transmission would be "Babylon 
mercy," (target has turned away, immediate abort and return to 
base), "Babylon down" (a command to self-destruct) or "alas 
Babylon," the order to attack. Mark reflected ruefully, "Three 
possibilities and two of them are bad." 

But Mark was determined to do his duty, come what may, in spite 
of the mounting terror. The terror was that, perhaps the mission 
had been compromised and that Superman had come to snuff this 
threat. Or, perhaps, Superman had finally gone bad and this was 
the preparatory order before the final order to attack. Mark told 
himself "Focus! Keep your mind on the mission!" 

Mark took immediate evasive action, snap rolling his aircraft and 
diving for the deck. Two escort chase planes had gone "buster" 
(i.e. max afterburner) and were streaking to his position. 

Superman quickly began to realize that something was wrong. With 
his distance and X- ray vision, Superman scanned Mark's cockpit. 
He could not understand the arcane symbols on the display mounted 
on his instrument panel, but he knew enough to realize there was 
some emergency afoot. He could hear Mark's heavy breathing and 
elevated heart rate. His boy was clearly frightened but, 
nevertheless, he was focused on his flying, and his mission not 
on his fear. The young aviator was flying through his fear doing 
his duty, just as he'd vowed to do, "come what may." 

Superman sensed the approach of Mark's escort jets, bearing down 
on him. He quickly scanned Mark's aircraft to make absolutely 
sure that the emergency, whatever it was, had nothing to do with 
safety of flight. Engine, control surfaces and all safety of 
flight systems seemed to be operating in normal range. Superman 
spotted Mark's SEOP weapon and gave it a cursory scan. With 
Mark's relief jets' rapid approach, there'd been no time for a 
more than a quick glance. The device appeared to be an 
anti-ballistic missile weapon. The design engineers had left 
nothing to chance. Although, if utilized, the weapon would not be 
detached from the aircraft, it had been mounted as a warhead on 
an air-to-air missile with radar and IR sensors and onboard 
computer guidance system. Weapon and mission profiles conformed 
to those of an air launched anti-ballistic missile defense 
system. Indeed, the weapon would have been perfectly serviceable 
in an anti- ballistic missile defense mission. This directed 
energy beam weapon could have atomized any target, not just a 
Kryptonian super man. 

Perhaps Superman might've guessed the purpose of the SEOP weapon 
if he'd had more time for a closer look, but his cursory 
examination of the weapon led reasonably to the conclusion that 
this was an anti-ballistic missile defensive weapon and he'd had 
no reason to suppose otherwise. Any curiosity Superman might've 
had regarding the weapon had been satisfied with a plausible 
conclusion. This had been the designers' intent and their ruse 
had fooled even the incomparably brilliant "Man of Steel." 
Superman could be excused for having been misled, however. His 
primary concern and focus of attention had been safe operation of 
the jet and the safety of his son. And there just hadn't been 
time for much more before he was obliged to leave due to the 
rapid approach of Mark's escort jets. 

Still, as Superman streaked away, he was puzzled. What was the 
nature of Mark's emergency? Why had those escort jets gone 
"buster" to come to his assistance? Why had Mark taken evasive 
action? And why had his son been so terrified? "Well," he 
shrugged, "Even I can't expect to have all the answers." 

As Superman swerved away from his Son's aircraft, satellite born 
sensors tracked his course, immediately transmitting the "all 
clear" throughout the SEOP network, including the USS Nimitz. 
From Nimitz' Combat Direction Center, the signal was relayed to 
the loitering E2-C Hawkeye radar plane and from there to Mark's 
cockpit display, "Babylon mercy, return to base." 

From his violently evasive maneuvers, Mark rolled wings level and 
climbed back to his operational altitude, "angels eighteen," 
(18,000 feet MSL) and turned toward the ship. Inside, Mark was 
an emotional wreck. But he had stared death square in the face 
and come through having done is duty. There had been no doubt, in 
Mark's mind that he would have followed through with either the 
command to self-destruct or to attack. Until this sortie, he'd 
never really known for sure in his own mind, how could he know 
until he'd faced it for real, whether he would really and truly 
have the courage to follow through and do his duty. He'd felt 
fairly confident in himself, but now it was different. Now he 
knew. If nothing else good had come of this sortie, at least he 
would be walking away from it certain of his own heart and mind. 
He had kept the faith and he knew full well that if it ever came 
to that, he would do it again! 

After shutting down his engines, Mark sat in his cockpit 
collecting himself. Presently, he disconnected his g-suit, 
inserted the ejection seat safety pins, disconnected the coke 
fittings of his parachute harness from his ejection seat and 
clambered down from his aircraft to the flight deck of USS 
Nimitz. 

After removing his flight helmet and gloves, without looking back 
at his aircraft, he descended the crew ladder down to the 
platform that led into the bowels of the ship and made his way to 
"CVIC," the carrier's intelligence center for post flight 
debrief. 

As he left CVIC after his debrief, Mark was handed a note by one 
of the duty petty officers. It was from his squadron XO 
(Executive Officer, the squadron 2nd in command). His presence 
was requested in the XO's stateroom, ASAP. 

Wearily, Mark trudged down the passageway, arriving at the XO's 
stateroom door. He knocked. From inside he heard the voice of 
Commander Jeff (Pigdog) Barstowe. "Come." (Commander Barstowe 
didn't like his call sign any better than Mark liked his.) 

Chapter 5 Mysterious Recall

Mark had assumed Commander Barstowe wanted a separate debrief on 
his close call with "target Babylon," but not so. A message had 
arrived from the Pentagon ordering "that LTJG Kent, M. M., return 
immediately to CONUS (the continental United States) 'for further 
transport' to the Naval Personnel Command, 'NPC,' in Washington, 
DC to await further orders." 

Everyone in the squadron had been mystified why a young "nugget" 
aviator would be ordered home half way through a routine 
deployment. Some had guessed it might've had something to do with 
Mark's night mission, but very few among the crew in the embarked 
air wing or ship's company had been read in on SEOP. 

When young LTJG Kent arrived at NPC, he received orders "to go on 
indefinite leave." There was a cover letter, signed by Major 
General Henry Vynes, III, USMC, Director of the Joint Staff, 
"suggesting" that LTJG Kent proceed immediately to his parents' 
weekend home, a small cabin on a lake in upstate New York. Kent's 
leave orders bore a code indicating this 'directive' had 
originated from the Office of the Secretary of Defense. This had 
raised some eyebrows among the staff at NPC, but they had strict 
orders not to delve into the matter. Mark placed a call to his 
parents' weekend home and his mom, Lois, answered. "Oh, Mark, 
your dad and I have been waiting for your call. We're looking 
forward to seeing you." 

"Sure mom. Mind telling me what this is all about?"

"Not at all, Mark, but it'll have to wait till you get here."

"OK, Mom. I've got a flight out of DC leaving for Newark in a 
couple of hours. I'll connect from there to Rochester and rent a 
car when I get there. I'll be at the lake by dark. See you 
then." 

When Mark arrived, his parents were waiting for him on the front 
porch of their lakeside weekend cabin. After the customary 
greetings, Lois and Clark led their youngest son into the cabin 
and they sat down for some supper. Lois has never been much of a 
cook. Clark was by far the better cook between him and Lois, but 
she had insisted on preparing this meal on her own. She had gone 
all out, and it was obvious she'd done her "Martha Stewart 
Cookbook" best to prepare a nice dinner for her son. 

After supper, Lois spoke first, "Mark, your dad and I have 
something to tell you. We called in a couple of favors from 
senior people at the Pentagon who owed us to get them to order 
you home." 

And then Clark, whose dark, athletic good looks belied his 53 
years, rose from the table only to be replaced by a whirling 
blur, replaced in turn by a well muscled young man who appeared 
to be no more than 30 years old. He was dressed in blue and red 
spandex with a red cape. Mark, startled speechless and 
breathless, jumped out of his chair at the dinner table and 
sprung between the young super man and his mom. Here he was, 
"Babylon!" His main enemy, intentions unknown, with his mother in 
this room and his father vanished... up in a puff of 'smoke!' 
Mark's verbal response: "Jesusmaryjoseph!!! What in the hell... 
is this???" 

Lois laid her hand on Mark's right shoulder. "It's OK, Mark. This 
is your father." 

At least three octaves above his normal register, Mark bleated, 
"My what??? What do you mean, 'my father?'" 

"Mark... Clark is... your dad... is Superman."

"Whaaat?" Mark sagged back into his chair.

The red-caped super hero spoke up: "That's right, Mark, I am your 
dad. I am 'Clark Kent.'" 

For more than a minute, Mark sat in stunned silence as the truth 
sank in. When he finally recovered his voice, his quite 
understandable response was denial. 

"Criminie! You look old enough to be... an older brother, maybe! 
But my dad? No way! And besides, you're an alien! 

You cannot possibly be my father!" C'mon Mom, what the hell is 
this?" 

He turned to the "Man of Steel" and demanded, "What have you done 
with my dad?" 

Lois looked at her son. "Mark, honey, I know this is a shock but 
it's true. This is your dad. The reason he looks so young right 
now is because he doesn't age like ordinary people do. The only 
reason Clark looks as old as he does most of the time is because 
it's a disguise. He has to do that to appear to be aging more or 
less normally to get along in the world; so he and I can have a 
normal life." 

Mark fixed his gaze on the alien muscleman. "This cannot be 
happening! This is insane! You are my father? If you're my 
father, what does that make me? You two are telling me I am some 
kind of interstellar half-breed freak! If that's true, my God, 
I'm not even a purebred human being! I'm some kind of inhuman, 
half-alien mongrel. Right? I mean, how could the two of you... 
breed?" 

Clark reached out to his son who recoiled in revulsion. He 
pleaded, "Look, Mark, your mom and I have carried this burden 
since you were born. We never really knew how to handle this with 
you. There were so many times we've wanted to tell you. But I 
decided it would be better not to... It was my decision." 

Mark pulled himself together. He eyed his father coldly and said. 
"You have no idea the position you've put me in by blindsiding me 
like this." 

Mark continued. "You are not my father. My father is dead! He 
never really existed! How could you do this, Mom, with this... 
this alien freak? What in God's holy name were you thinking?" 

"Mark, he's not a freak. He's your dad and he's my husband. I 
love him and we both love you. Please! This mustn't change 
anything between us. We don't feel any differently about you." 

Mark turned on the Man of Steel. "Look, mister, I'm really 
freaking out here. I need you to change back to your ordinary 
human disguise, now. I know now that it's bogus, but I just can't 
deal with an alien muscle dude in skintight blue and red spandex 
calling me 'Son!' And, oh, by the way, do me a favor and don't do 
that 'whirling dervish' thing you did a minute ago. Just go into 
the other room and change. And please don't just whisk out of the 
room and whisk right back. Hang back a minute and let my head 
adjust. I know it won't be real, but I can't deal with this 
'wacked-out' reality right now. I really need the illusion, OK?" 

"OK, Mark... Be right back."

A few minutes later, Clark reentered the kitchen, still 
"youngish-looking," but not 30 years young! ... buttoning his 
shirt as he entered the room. He eyed his son nervously. 

Mark challenged, "What about Lane and Jon? Why single me out? 
Have you told them?" 

Lois spoke. "Mark... Lane and Jon were born like your father. 
They have the same powers as your dad." 

For the second time in five minutes, Mark's world had been 
rocked. The boy's head was reeling as he murmured, "Oh, so I'm 
the only one in this family who's been in the dark about all 
this." 

Clark spoke. "Mark, try to understand. We wanted you to have a 
normal life. You deserved that. Do you have any idea how many 
times I've ached to tell you? Oh, God, Son, how many times I've 
wanted to take you flying with Jon and Lane when you were a 
little boy. I think I'd have died of happiness to have that just 
one time." 

Mark faced an impossible situation of divided loyalties. In this 
moment, young Mark saw his choice as being between his loyalty to 
his family or to his species, to the whole human race. One of his 
motivations for joining the Navy in the first place had been his 
wish to protect his family. He had seen his best option for doing 
that as joining the military to defend the country. And now he 
was faced with the awful reality that his own father was the 
greatest potential enemy his country would ever face. True, up 
until now, his father had made not one single threatening move 
against the country or against mankind. But Clark had not trusted 
his son with his secret. Mark reasoned that, right or wrong, his 
dad's motivation might have been perfectly innocent. There was 
just no way he could know for sure. But, for whatever reason, his 
dad hadn't trusted him and now he decided he could not trust his 
dad. He would not betray his country. Instead, he would betray 
his family. He regarded his father, potentially, as the enemy. 
Mark knew very well that his dad could read minds. Most of 
Superman's various powers were common knowledge. Mark knew that, 
right then, SEOP was in grave jeopardy. He had to find some way 
to get out of there. He very badly needed time to think, to sort 
things out, to figure out what to do. He would keep the 
conversation going for now to buy time. He most feared his father 
might try to probe his mind. In a sudden rush of realization, it 
dawned on him that, when he was a little boy, his dad had tried 
probing his mind. He hadn't fully understood at the time what was 
happening, but he knew enough to realize he could shield himself 
against any attempt by his father to delve into his mind. But his 
father would know he was hiding something. He had to find some 
excuse to get away. 

Mark spoke to his dad, "Well, to tell you the truth, I wish to 
God you hadn't told me now. I've been out of your house for 
almost six years. You were in the clear. You've covered your 
tracks with me all these years. I think you could've managed it 
when I came home on leave for the holidays every now and again. 
Why in God's name bring me in on this now?" 

Clark replied, "Believe me, Mark, we have a very good reason to 
tell you now. We need your help... I need your help." 

"Me, help you? How?"

"Lane and Jon have been on New Krypton for almost a year."

Mark muttered, "So that story about them being Peace Corps 
volunteers in Nigeria was bogus! Talk about truth being stranger 
than fiction! So what're they doing out there on new Krypton?" 

Clark answered, "As members of the Kryptonian heredity nobility, 
male members of our family are eligible for membership on the 
Governing Council. They replaced two members of the faction 
friendly to us who died under very suspicious circumstances just 
over a year ago. They've preserved predominance of our faction. 
But now another one of our allies on the Council has died. So now 
there is a stalemate in the council between our faction and the 
opposing faction led by Lord Nor's son. But with you on that 
council the stalemate could be broken. If it isn't, civil war 
could break out on New Krypton and it would be a blood bath." 

Mark balked, stalling for time. How in hell was he going to get 
away? 

"Well, I don't see how I could help. I don't have super powers 
here on Earth and I couldn't survive on New Krypton. The gravity 
there alone would be lethal. It'd compress me into not much more 
than a carpet stain in what, a few seconds... couple minutes at 
most?" 

"Son, I wouldn't ask you to go unless I could solve that problem. 
I have a device that will change you... make you like your 
brothers... and me. I wish I could have had it when you were 
younger, but I have it now. It's complicated, but I'll explain 
all that to you." 

This exchange forced Clark to revisit the greatest regret of his 
life. If only he had told the computer avatars of his Kryptonian 
father and mother, Jor-El and Lara. If only he had told them 
about Mark. Just before the end, as their baby Kal-El was 
rocketed away from Krypton, Jor-El and Lara had linked their 
minds to the computer on board their son's tiny escape craft. 
They had uploaded their personalities and their memories, up to 
the moment of their death into the onboard computer's memory. 
Clark had placed the rocket inside his Fortress of Solitude on a 
remote, uninhabited Canadian island, well north of the Arctic 
Circle. The computer could project interactive holographic images 
of Jor-El and Lara. It was almost as though Cark could converse 
with his natural parents. Their personalities and memories had 
survived intact in the computer's memory. By this marvelous 
example of Kryptonian technology, Clark had been blessed with the 
privilege of getting to know his natural parents. 

As a young man, Clark had brought his adoptive parents to his 
Fortress and introduced them to Jor- El and Lara. Jonathan and 
Martha had been apprehensive about this "meeting," but Clark had 
begged them and to please him, they had reluctantly agreed. Their 
meeting had been very emotional. Lara had spoken to Martha and 
Jonathan. "I have no words to thank you for taking our baby in as 
your own and raising him to manhood. You've raised him to be 
everything we could ever have hoped for and more. Bless you both 
for loving him so much." Martha had replied, "I used to think you 
would've hated me for being the one lucky enough to raise your 
son as my own. But one day, I realized that, if something ever 
happened to me, I would hope for someone to take Clark in and 
love him as I have. Then I knew that must be how you would've 
felt, as well." Lara had said, "I could not have hoped for a 
better mother for our son than you, Martha Kent; or for a better 
father than you, Jonathan. Jor-El and I owe you both so much. 
Thank you, Clark, for bringing your parents here on Earth to meet 
us. Jor-El and I needed this opportunity to express our thanks 
and our love to them." (Lara had made it her point to address her 
son as "Clark," not as "Kal-El," out of deference to Jonathan and 
Martha.) 

But Clark had never told Jor-El about Mark. He had been emphatic 
to Lois, Jon and Lane that they must never tell Jor-El or Lara 
about Mark. He had feared their disappointment in Mark's lack of 
super powers would be too much to bear, on top of all the 
heartbreak they had suffered in life. Then, one day, while Clark 
had been speaking to Jor-El about something unrelated, he had 
asked, "Now tell my about your third son, Kal- El. Why have you 
never told Lara or me anything about your third son?" Clark had 
wept. It had been several minutes before he'd been able to pull 
himself together. He looked up at his father. Very gently, Jor-El 
continued. "I can see this pains you and anything painful to you 
also hurts me. But now, you must tell me what is wrong. Did you 
think I could not share your pain? Do you think it would not hurt 
me even more that you do not trust me to comfort you, my son, 
even in this, this crippled form, I must make do with? Now, my 
son, speak to me of your third son, whom I can see very well you 
love with all your heart and soul. What is it about him that 
pains you so or that would make you believe you must hide him 
from your mother and me?" 

"Jor-El, my father. I had wanted to spare you and my mother this. 
Mark, my youngest son was born as an ordinary boy. He is my son, 
but he has none of the attributes of a Kryptonian. He has no 
powers. He is perfectly healthy but he is not in any meaningful 
sense Kryptonian, even though I am his father." 

Jor-El retorted. "Kal-El, your third son is every bit as 
Kryptonian as you or I, notwithstanding his lack of super powers 
here in Earth. He is your son and he is my grandson. Did you 
think I would repudiate my own flesh and blood because of this?" 
"Never!" 

"And now, my Son, you must bring your son to me. I will present 
you both with a gift, my gift to you both. And I will bless this 
boy, as I have blessed your sons Zor-El (Jon) and Kor-El (Lane). 
And I claim my right as the boy's paternal grandfather, "the 
right of naming." He will be 'Jal-El.' ("child of destiny")." 

The "Man of Steel" trembled at the prospect of telling his son 
all he'd hidden from him lo these many years. "But, father, if I 
tell him, he might not come." 

"You were wrong, Kal-El to hide all this from your son and to 
hide your son from your mother and me, as if there were any shame 
in his lack of the attributes of a normal Kryptonian. His 
condition is a rare one, dating back to the earliest human 
settlers on our home world. The genes of Jal-El's attributes were 
all but gone from our people. But in those rare instances when a 
child is conceived with this condition, we have developed a 
treatment. I will show you how to make young Jal-El as you are 
and Zor-El and Kor-El. That is, I will do this for you and 
Jal-El, but only if the boy agrees, although I cannot imagine why 
he would not accept this gift of love from his grandfather and 
from you, his father." 

Clark had related everything to his son. "So, Mark, I was wrong 
on all counts. All along you could've had everything Jon and Lane 
and I have. I am so sorry, Son. But at least now, thanks to 
Jor-El, I can make it up to you. I can give you your birthright. 
I can make you the super man you were always meant to be. And 
that will make you able to go to New Krypton and take your place 
as a member of the Governing Council." 

Mark answered, "Is that what you think I want, to be like you? No 
sir! Never! I already have a life and nothing in my life has 
prepared me to live as some kind of interstellar alien life form, 
thank God! It may be just fine for you, Jon and Lane, but I don't 
want that. I would rather die! 

"Mark!" Lois exclaimed. "You are being needlessly cruel to your 
father!" 

Mark glared at his mother, his voice quavering with barely 
controlled fury. "You have the gall to call me 'cruel?' 
Everything you and this man have ever told me abut this family 
has been a lie!" 

Lois retorted, "Maybe we were wrong to hide this from you. But we 
never meant to hurt you. Think back, Mark. No one could've been a 
more devoted father than your dad. And, right or wrong, you know 
very well that he's always put your welfare first. Is he 
infallible? No! He makes mistakes, just like the rest of us. I've 
made mistakes with all three of you boys, too. Every parent gets 
it wrong sometimes. The only way you ever get to be a good parent 
is by doing. And sometimes, along the way, Mark, we have gotten 
it wrong, just like any other parents. But we love you. You know 
that. And even if we were wrong to keep you in the dark about all 
this, your dad and I just wanted so badly for you to be happy. 
Clark would move heaven and earth for you, Mark, literally! But 
now he needs you. The situation out there on New Krypton is 
desperate and if you don't help us, people, innocent people, are 
going to die. And the only person alive in any position to head 
off this catastrophe is you, Mark. So, please..." 

Mark saw his chance. Now he could make his excuses and get the 
hell out of there! His mother had unwittingly given him just the 
opening he needed. 

"No… I've heard what you've both had to say. I've listened. I've 
considered and decided... I am not gonna get involved. Mom, 
thanks, for the nice dinner and thank you both for an 
'interesting' visit. But I think I've heard enough. I'm just 
going to leave right now and go back out to the fleet where 
there's at least some semblance of normality in my life." 

"I am willing to protect the family secret. I really don't have 
much choice. If I didn't, my life wouldn't be worth a plug 
nickel. Sir, you've made enough enemies as Superman that if any 
of them got wind of my connection to you, I'd be a sitting duck, 
not to mention Mom. Of course, Mom, I understand the untenable 
position you'd find yourself in if I shot my mouth off. So, of 
course, I won't do that." 

Mark addressed his dad. "For one thing, Sir, nobody is going to 
believe that if I'm your son... well... that I'm really human, 
for all intents and purposes. Hell, I'm not really sure I believe 
it myself! Anyway, you can both depend on me to keep my mouth 
shut." 

"But for now, Sir, I need some time to 'process' all this. 
Meanwhile, I'd appreciate it if you'd honor my 'space.' Don't try 
to contact me or come around me. When I'm ready to deal with you, 
I'll be in touch... I understand that you're disappointed in me. 
If, when I do try to get back in touch with you, you're not ready 
to deal with me, I'll understand. Then the ball would be in your 
court to get in touch with me and, of course, I'd honor that." 

Mark rose to go but his dad stopped him. In some ways, Mark had 
always been the most distant of his three sons. There had been so 
many things Clark had not been able to share with his youngest 
boy. Mark's not so veiled "suicide-threat" ("I'd rather die 
first"), hurtful as it was, clearly was the ill-considered 
outburst of an angry young man, but these "Sirs" instead of "Dad" 
were devastating. Clark had lost his "baby boy." He'd never 
wanted to cry so badly in all his life. He struggled with 
everything he had for control of his emotions. 

"Look, Mark, I know you're hurt and confused and angry right now 
and you've got every right to be angry. Keeping all this from you 
is probably the worst mistake I've ever made in my life. But, 
please, don't go. With his left hand, Clark grasped Mark's right 
arm gently, almost tenderly. But when Mark tried to pull away, 
Clark's grip, though gentle, was unbreakable. 

Momentarily, Mark marveled at the phenomenal strength it took for 
his dad to maintain such a gentle but unbreakable grip. Mark 
quickly recovering from his rumination, eyed his dad with a 
steely glare and said: "You may be my father, Sir, but I am of 
legal age now and you have no right to hold me against my will... 
And that is what you are doing... Release me... now!" 

Clark didn't release his son. Instead, he pressed in to him and 
gently placed his right hand on Mark's left shoulder. He started 
to speak but Mark, still glaring at his father with unconcealed 
hostility, cut him off, his speech now clipped, slow and 
precisely enunciated. "This is false imprisonment, Sir. That is a 
federal offense. And the fact that I am a serving officer in the 
Navy can only compound your legal difficulties. And, 
rest-assured, if I ever get out of this, I would press charges 
against you. Now I know you're not 'sweating the load' on that 
because there is no jail on earth that could hold you. But, as 
Superman, you have always cultivated a reputation of being an 
absolute stickler for law and order. So that is what I am 
appealing to now. You had best let me go on about my business and 
I will let you get back to yours." 

Lois intervened again, pleading, "Mark! Haven't you heard a word 
your dad and I have said? Baby, we know this is a shock! We know 
you've got to be reeling from all this right now. But there is an 
entire world out there in crisis and you, Mark, you are the only 
person alive in any position to do anything about it…" 

Clark added, "Mark, I know you need some time for all this to 
sink in and I wish to God we had the time for you to go back to 
your life as a Navy pilot and come to terms with it. But we just 
don't have the time. There is a starship en route here from New 
Krypton right now to pick you up. It is due to arrive in a matter 
of hours. Lane and Jon are on board and will be with you on the 
way back to New Krypton. You and I need to leave tonight. Right 
way. I need to administer the treatment to you immediately so you 
will be ready to leave when that star ship arrives in Earth 
orbit." 

Until then, Mark had maintained a defiant stance, but he was 
instantly deflated. "You know, Dad, it's bad enough that you made 
a commitment like this to your people on my behalf without 
checking with me first. Flying that "death star" to earth must 
have represented a considerable allocation of their resources and 
it wasn't very good headwork to have them lay on a mission like 
that until you were sure I would go along with your plan. But do 
you mean to tell me that you've actually agreed to have those 
monsters come back here to Earth? After what they did to us last 
time? After what they did to Ma & Pa Kent, not to mention Mom! 
They were all nearly killed by those creeps! What were you 
thinking? How could you do this to us?" 

"Mark! Everyone on that star ship is a friend. There is nothing 
to worry about. I would never have invited them to come here if I 
weren't certain of that." 

Mark retorted bitterly. "I am sorry if I am not reassured. You 
had them come here and you weren't even sure of me, or if you 
were, your faith in me was woefully misplaced. And those people 
were supposed to be 'friends' of yours last time they came here. 
That fellow, Ching, a friend, so called, behaved atrociously to 
you and to our people. And he's supposed to have been one of 
their 'good guys!' And that Nazi, Lord Nor, and his gang were 
directly responsible for upwards of 15,000 deaths and thousands 
more injured, many maimed for life. Your "assurances" seem to be 
going from bad to worse and... ... how many in the crew on that 
death star?" 

"`Star ship'," Mark, not 'death star' but about 5,000, why?"

"So you've brought 5,000 super-beings into Earth proximity, any 
one of whom could menace our entire species? What makes you so 
sure that, knowing the powers they could have here on Earth, that 
not one of them would try to jump ship? USS Nimitz has about the 
same size complement as your peoples' 'star ship' and it is a 
microcosm of society at large, the good the bad and the ugly... I 
shudder to think what would happen if the only thing that some of 
the dirt bags in Nimitz' crew had to do to get powers like yours 
was for them to jump ship. And it WOULD be the dirt bags who 
would do it, not one of our stellar performers. If even one guy 
from that alien star ship does jump ship, mankind is screwed!" 

Mark gazed at Clark with horror and visceral animus. "... Oh... I 
get it. I know what your game is, now! This is blackmail!" 

In a subdued, dejected voice, Mark said to Clark, "OK. You win. 
I'll go to New Krypton and do what you want... I guess I don't 
really have any choice." 

Lois reached out to her boy. "Mark, this isn't like that at all. 
You are his son and he loves you! My God, he's your dad. You've 
known this man all your life! Nothing has changed because of 
this. He's the same man he's always been. He's strong, and gentle 
and kind and he loves you dearly. How could you possibly twist 
your dad's plea for your help to save lives into something as 
heartless and as cold blooded as blackmail?" 

Mark looked back at his mother with the saddest most stricken 
look she had ever seen. It was the look of a little boy betrayed. 
Very softly, he answered, "Mom, I can't take anything from you or 
Dad for granted any more. You know, ya grow up under a man's 
roof. He raises you up from a pup and ya think ya know `im. Come 
to find out, ya don't know squat. Hell, Mom, he's not really even 
human! And he is supposed to be my father? Jesusmaryjoseph, what 
in hell does that make me?? Try that head-trip on for size! All 
bets are off with you two. I can't take anything from either you 
or," He paused, "that man for granted ever again." 

Mark turned back to his dad. "Look, Sir. I've said I'd go, but I 
will only go on two conditions and they are not negotiable. We 
both know you can't 'shanghai' me into a mission like this. If 
you try to force me to go otherwise, I won't cooperate and I'll 
do my best to sabotage you at every opportunity." 

Clark ignored the explicit threat in Mark's ultimatum as he asked 
gently, "What condition, Son? Just name it." 

"Not 'it,' sir, 'them.' First, that death star does not close 
within distance of earth that any crewmember on board could 
escape and fly here under his own power. And I want all 
shuttlecraft or other means of transportation secured under armed 
guard with 'shoot to kill orders.' I want any possibility that 
any member of their crew could jump ship... absolutely 
eliminated. The shuttlecraft that comes here to pick us up must 
have a minimum crew. No more on board than the minimum essential 
for safe navigation to Earth and back to their star ship... 
'Agreed?'" 

"Son, this isn't really necessary, but 'agreed.'"

"Can you communicate with those aliens before they close within 
minimum safe distance?" 

"Yes, Son, but only if we leave right away. And, Son, I won't be 
coming with you aboard the star ship. I can't. My involvement 
with them last time they came here precludes my direct 
involvement with the Governing Council. But you, as my son are 
eligible. Mark, one day you'll understand the importance of what 
you're doing. You'll be saving two worlds and no matter what you 
think now, there's not all that much difference between the 
people of Earth and of New Krypton. Most Kryptonians are good and 
decent people. But they desperately need a chance at some 
political stability if this remnant is going to make a go of 
survival on their new home world." 

"I have another condition, Sir, and I won't negotiate on this one 
either. I think you'll want to talk this one over with Jon and 
Lane. You'll need their agreement to make good." 

"What is it, Mark? What do you want us to do?"

"First, Sir, this treatment you're going to subject me to, is it 
reversible?" 

"Sure, Son, I guess so. Why?"

"Well, if I ever get back home, I'll want you to restore me to 
normal. I don't want to be like you the rest of my life. It would 
kind of put a crimp in my Navy career for one thing. I'd never 
pass my next annual flight physical! The first time they tried to 
stick a needle in my arm to take a blood sample, your secret 
would be blown." 

Now that Clark had the means of imparting super powers to his 
youngest son, he hoped the boy would receive the gift willingly. 
He resolved then when Mark returned to Earth, he would do his 
utmost to persuade Mark to keep his powers. But now was not the 
time. That was a "battle" for another day. 

"OK, Mark, if that's the way you want it, I'll change you back, 
but what's that got to do with Jon and Lane?" 

"If they wanted to come home, I'd have to have you change them as 
well. I couldn't allow them to return here the way they are. They 
could choose between remaining as they are on New Krypton or, if 
they wanted to return home, I would insist you change them to 
ordinary mortals. I won't have three of you super-freak 'loose 
cannons' here on earth. That's out of the question. You're free 
to live out your life here on earth as a super being, but no more 
super beings: Not me, not Jon, Lane or anyone else. This 
'Superman' thing ends with you." 

Lois exploded. Up until now, she had tried her best to be patient 
and understanding with her son, but her nerves were raw and she 
was on tenterhooks. This demand had 'crossed the line.' "Mark!" 
she exclaimed, "Now who is blackmailing whom?" 

Clark turned to his wife, held up his hand and said "Lo-is!" It 
was very clear to her that this time, he wanted to stand for 
himself in this exchange with his son. 

"Mark, I can't promise you that! I don't have the right to even 
ask that of Jon and Lane and neither do you! These are their 
lives you're talking about! How could you think I would even 
consider putting them in such a 'position' by asking them to 
agree to a thing like that?" 

"Well, Sir, you're playing fairly 'fast and loose' with my life, 
now aren't you? Look, it makes no difference to me whether you 
agree or not. I am not negotiating with you... You want my 
cooperation? You're just going to have to figure out a way to 
make it happen. Now, I think you said we're working against some 
kind of deadline, here, so I suggest we shove off so you'll have 
time to contact that star ship." 

"Son, please, don't do this to your brothers... To me!"

"That's it, Sir. Those are my terms. You can make me go, but we 
both know you can't make me cooperate with you and your people. I 
will not betray my kind. I only cooperate with you to keep that 
death star and those monsters away from Earth. Otherwise, I'd 
laugh in your face. But, unless you deliver the assurances I 
need, well, there's nothing more for us to talk about. And since 
we seem to be up against a deadline, I guess I'll need your 
decision... right now." 

"Son, all I can promise is to ask Jon and Lane. It would have to 
be up to them. 

Mark replied, "Well then, I guess we'll just have to leave this 
whole thing up to them. I guess I'm ready to shove off... 
whenever you are." 

"Son, I have brought a special garment for you to wear. It is 
typical of the attire worn by young men on New Krypton. I'd 
appreciate it if you'd change into that before we leave. And I'll 
need to change back to my 'Superman' persona." 

Mark scowled at the black, metallic-blue and silver spandex 
garment, emblazoned on the front breast with a silver "S" in a 
black pentagon-shaped field, outlined in silver. He adamantly 
refused to wear it. "I'm not wearing that fruity leotard! No! No 
way in hell! Tell ya what. I've got my Navy flight suit and 
boots. I wore them on the flight from the carrier to the beach. 
I've got `em in my duffle bag. 

No amount of explaining, cajoling or begging from Clark or Lois 
would budge Mark. It would be the Navy-issue nomex flight suit 
and flight boots, his Navy khaki uniform or ordinary civilian 
clothes, but not... definitely not that alien, "ballet dancer 
outfit!" Clark exited to another room and donned his blue and red 
costume. Mark took a little longer to change, but in his olive 
green "zoom- bag" he cut an impressive figure. In spite of 
himself and his fear and misgivings over his son's career-choice, 
and in spite of this tension between Mark and himself, Clark felt 
a brief, overpowering surge of love and pride in his son. He 
fixed his gaze on the leather name badge on the left breast of 
Mark's flight suit... emblazoned with Gold naval aviator's wings, 
the design a US shield, flanked by eagle's wings and backed by a 
single vertical fouled anchor. 

Underneath the gold-winged naval aviator's emblem, the name badge 
read: 

LTJG Mark Kent, USNR "Supes" VFA-94

Clark, immediately recognizing his Superman persona's 
affectionate nickname, eyed his son's leather name badge. 
"Supes?" he queried. 

Mark sighed and rolled his eyes. "Long story. Don't ask. Please, 
don't ask." 

Lois looked at her son and her husband. She embraced Mark but her 
boy neither responded nor resisted. He was wringing wet with 
sweat and he was emotionally spent. Her heart ached that her son 
had been wrenched from a fulfilling, challenging, even dangerous 
but normal life to face the issues that were pressing in on him 
now; but there was no help for it. She released her son and 
joined her husband in a loving, passionate embrace. They drew 
strength from each other, as they had throughout their marriage. 
Lois was not a young woman anymore, but she looked as good as she 
ever had. Diet, rigorous exercise and some of her husband's 
"Kryptonian technology" had allowed her to belie her age. In 
spite of her fifty years, she didn't look or feel a day over 30! 

Lois and Clark broke their embrace and all three; father, mother 
and son exited the small cabin. The muscular young-looking 
super-man turned to his son. "Mark, don't worry. You don't have 
to do a thing. I'm going to hold onto you and fly us to our 
destination north of the Arctic Circle. As long as we are in 
physical contact with each other, nothing can harm you. Trust me, 
son. I won't let go." 

"Sir, just do whatever you have to do. Let's just get the hell 
out of here." 

Chapter 6 The Leaving

Clark held his son in his powerful right arm and they ascended 
without a sound into the sky. They accelerated rapidly to mach 10 
and, within seconds, the Man of Steel was dragging a deafening 
sonic boom in his wake. Clark regretted the discomfort this might 
have caused anyone on the ground, but they were on a very tight 
schedule. The air friction would have incinerated Mark, 
notwithstanding his fire-resistant nomex flight suit, but 
Superman's protective aura rendered Mark as indestructible as his 
father. Clark would have died before letting go of his youngest 
son. 

Within minutes the Man of Steel was descending out of the Arctic 
night over his "Fortress of Solitude," situated on a desolate, 
uninhabited, frigid island north of the Canadian mainland. The 
installation was well concealed and at first Mark could not tell 
it was even there. He wasn't really sure how they had managed to 
get inside; evidently some kind of alien teleportation device. 
One moment they were hovering about 50 feet above the ground. The 
next, they were inside some kind of dimly lit giant "cavern," 
surrounded by all kinds of alien technological marvels, the 
functions of which Mark could not even imagine. Clark gently 
descended to the floor and released his boy. 

"Son, I'm going to try to reach the star ship right now. Just 
wait with me here while I make contact." And then Clark appeared 
to slip into some kind of trance. 

Presently, inside his mind, Mark heard his oldest brother's 
voice! "Lil' Bro, can you hear me? This is Jon." 

Mark clutched the sides of his head with both hands and collapsed 
to his knees. He was not really in any physical discomfort, but 
the presence of another's thoughts, another's voice, inside his 
head, was momentarily terrifying. Clark had made the mistake of 
forgetting to brief his son on the dynamics of Kryptonian 
"radio-telepathy." A Terran could shield himself from a 
Kryptonian's mind probe with relative ease if he wanted to, but 
he would have to know what was happening in order to mount 
effective resistance. Mark had been wide open to his brother's 
mind probe. 

Lane piped up, "How ya doin' little brother. Are you OK? I know 
all this must be a shock to you. We're looking forward to seeing 
you when you get on board. We'll be waiting for you." 

Back on his feet, Mark, adapting quickly to this new 
communication medium, responded with his mind not to his brothers 
but to his father, "Sir, we need to bypass all this "chit-chat" 
and get down to business. I want my terms met... now... or we 
really don't have any further business here." 

Clark responded, "Jon, Lane... Mark hasn't really responded 
favorably to the situation at all. He's having real problems with 
all of this. He has named certain conditions or he refuses to 
cooperate. Now I don't want the two of you to be judgmental of 
him. Remember, less than three hours ago he had no idea of things 
you've both lived with all your lives. You both know that. When 
he gets out there, I'm counting on you to look out for him. He's 
hurt and he's angry right now so when you see him, you can expect 
to be dealing with a sullen and very bitter young man. I just 
need you to be patient and loving with him. He's having to adjust 
to an awful lot in a very short time." Mark heard this exchange 
in his mind, but he couldn't understand it. It had been in the 
Kryptonian language and at a rate of speed no ordinary human 
could possibly have followed, even with a command of the alien 
tongue. 

With his mind, Clark spoke in English again. "Jon, I need to 
speak with the star ship Captain, right away." Moments later, 
again in the Kryptonese language, a new 'voice' broke in. 
"Kal-El? This is Ching. I am ready to communicate with you." 

Ching and Clark had met years ago when the Kryptonian star ship 
had come to Earth. Initially, they had been adversaries, but they 
had joined forces against the murderous tyrant Lord Nor who had 
sought to enslave both the people of New Krypton and of Earth 
under his brutal, autocratic rule. Ching had married the 
Kryptonian beauty 'Zara,' a noblewoman to whom Kal-El had been 
betrothed at birth. Both men, Clark and Ching, breaking 
tradition, had married the women they loved rather than follow 
the old Kryptonian feudalistic order. Ching, a soldier, had been 
contemptuous initially of the "rustic and undisciplined" customs 
of Earth. But once Terran "mating practices" had given him a 
chance, notwithstanding that he was a commoner, to be married to 
the love of his life, "The Lady Zara," he had embraced these 
quaint "courting rituals" with alacrity. 

In English, Clark 'spoke,' "Ching! How are you, friend?" Clark's 
face lit up momentarily. He was delighted that Ching had come on 
this mission. Ching responded with equal enthusiasm. "I am fine, 
Kal-El. And I am at your service." 

"Ching, look, I have my son, Mark, here. He has made a demand 
which I'm counting on you to honor." 

"What demand, Kal-El? I should think he would see his duty and 
agree to help us, unconditionally." 

Since this exchange was in English, at normal speed, Mark 'heard' 
every word. "Look, Mister 'Ching,' or whatever your name is, I 
want you to stop that death star before you come close enough 
that any of your crew can jump ship and fly to Earth under their 
own power. Then I want armed guards posted by each of your 
shuttlecraft with orders to shoot to kill any crewmembers who try 
to escape to Earth. Any other mode of transportation you have, 
like teleport beams or whatever, I want the same thing. None of 
your people are to get off that ship and come here. Do you 
understand?" 

"I understand what you are saying, young 'Jal-El,' I just don't 
understand why you feel the need to say it." 

Mark turned to his father and spoke aloud, "Jal-El?"

"That is your Kryptonian name son. On New Krypton, you are known 
as 'Jal-El.' I am 'Kal-El.' Jon is 'Zor-El and Lane is 'Kor-El'" 

Mark reverted to mental communication with Ching, "Look Mister, I 
don't care what you call anyone else, but my name... is 'Matthew 
Mark Kent, Lieutenant Junior Grade, United States Naval 
Reserve...'" 

Without the slightest trace of ire or irony, Ching replied, "Very 
well, 'Matthew Mark Kent, Lieutenant Junior Grade, United States 
Naval Reserve,' I shall try to remember all that." 

A little sheepishly, Mark responded, "Well, sir, I guess it's OK 
if you call me 'Lieutenant, jay-gee Kent.'" 

"So, Kal-El, your son is a 'soldier,' eh? You must be very proud 
that your son is a warrior!" 

In spite of himself, there was something about Ching that Mark 
liked, immediately. He tried to fight it, but, for the life of 
him, he just couldn't muster the enmity for Ching that he was 
feeling for his own father and his older brothers. Maybe it was a 
"kinship" he felt with Ching because of his "military bearing?" 
Maybe it was just that he hadn't been close to Ching all his 
life... and so blindsided as he had been by his father and his 
brothers. 

Clark 'spoke,' "He is a military aviator of our nation's 
'maritime' forces. He flies tactical jet aircraft from large 
oceangoing vessels. His duties require a great measure of skill 
and courage. And I am as proud of him as a father could be, even 
though I worry about his safety all the time." 

"I understand your fear, Kal-El. Living as a super man on Earth, 
you cannot have expected to deal with vulnerability or mortality 
of any of your children. My son is a soldier on New Krypton and I 
have lived with the same nagging fear for him. It has never been 
easy for me, even though I myself am a warrior and even though on 
New Krypton, we face death in the same way Terrans do on earth. I 
expect your youngest son will adapt more quickly to life on New 
Krypton than did your two older sons. He is not accustomed to the 
powers they have had all their lives." 

To Mark, Ching said: "Young Lieutenant jay-gee Kent, I accept 
your caution and concern and I salute you for it; even though, I 
assure you, such measures to protect your people from ourselves 
are unnecessary... We have screened every member of our star ship 
crew rigorously and you have nothing to fear from any of them. 
Nevertheless, I realize now that you do not believe this so, of 
course, I will honor your request. Our star ship will not close 
within the minimum safe distance you require and I am ordering 
armed guards posted at every conceivable point of egress from 
this vessel. As you have demanded, I have given orders to kill 
any man who tries to escape but, rest assured, Son, no one will 
try to escape. All of my crew will do their duty." 

"Very well, Captain. I am satisfied."

Mark turned to Clark and spoke audibly, "Sir, we've still got Jon 
and Lane to deal with." 

Clark spoke with his mind in English. "Jon, Lane, can you hear 
me?" 

"Sure, dad, we're still here."

"Boys, listen, Mark is very suspicious of us... All of us. He is 
afraid of our strength and our powers. Of course, he knows what 
happened when Lord Nor invaded Earth before any of you were born. 
You both know Mark is a military man now and no military 
establishment on earth has forgotten that invasion or, I guess, 
ever will. He has assimilated their fear and paranoia and has 
trouble trusting even me." 

Jon 'spoke up,' "Sure, Dad, I guess we can understand that. What 
can we do to help?" 

Clark choked, his heart breaking at the circumstances that 
brought this "choice" on his two older sons. That this awful 
choice was being forced on them by his youngest boy was almost 
too painful to bear. 

Mark could 'feel' his father's anguish, but, in spite of this, he 
showed not the slightest pity. He reasoned that he had no 'right' 
to feel sorry for anyone in this matter. He had decided that 
preemption was the only permanent solution to the "New Krypton 
problem." This would be a one- way suicide mission to annihilate, 
once and for all, this threat to humanity. It would be a fight to 
the death. Once he arrived on New Krypton, Mark would find a way 
to kill them all. By this sacrificial act, he would prove, even 
if only to himself, that even though his body was defiled by the 
blood of his father's infernal race, he was nevertheless loyal to 
his country and to the people of Earth. 

Family sentiments would most certainly NOT be allowed to stand in 
his way. All mankind was depending on him and he would do his 
duty to defend his country as well as all of the nations and 
people of the world... or he would die trying. The immortal words 
of the American revolutionary patriot, Nathan Hale, rang in his 
ears: "I only regret that I have but one life to lose..." He 
didn't expect his brothers or himself to survive his "visit" to 
New Krypton. They wouldn't if he had anything to say about it; 
but, by his demand that his brothers be converted to ordinary 
humans if they ever returned to Earth, he was hedging his 
bets... 

Mark addressed his two older brothers. "Jon, Lane, here's the 
deal. Dad has explained everything to me. Frankly, this little 
political 'glitch' out there is not my problem. For all their 
superiority over mankind in physiology and technology, these 
friends of yours have some very primitive political and social 
structures. I mean, really. Think about it, guys. Here I am, an 
alien from their point of view. But just because of who my father 
is, they're willing to allow me to serve as a member of their 
ruling council. Is that stupid, or what? And here are these 
Kryptonians, a pathetic remnant of a race of losers, that with 
the required technology in hand, couldn't muster the political 
will to evacuate the majority of their population from their 
doomed home world before it exploded. Now they can't even lay 
aside their factional in-fighting long enough to save this 
remnant of their species! Hell, if anything, I'm glad of it. The 
way I see it, anyone on Earth with the kind of powers Dad has and 
that you two have had is a potential threat. So if Kryptonians 
wanna fight and kill each other off, so much the better. Fewer of 
them to threaten us here on Earth. I've told Dad I'm willing for 
him live out his life on Earth with his super powers. But the two 
of you have a choice: Remain on New Krypton or, if you decide to 
come home, submit to treatment to have your super powers removed 
and then both of you would have to have vasectomies. I don't want 
either of you spawning any more super- kids. Keep in mind; I'm 
not imposing anything on you that won't apply to me as well. This 
'Superman' thing here on Earth ends with Dad or there's no deal. 
I won't cooperate." 

There was a long silence, but then, finally, Jon spoke for 
himself and Lane. His telepathic 'voice' was very subdued. 
(Amazing how tone and inflection carried through in this 
telepathic medium!) "Well, OK, Mark. We understand and we both 
agree." 

Mark turned to his father. "I'm ready. Do whatever it is you need 
to do to me." 

Clark broke the connection with the star ship. ETA at their 
shuttle launch point was some six and one half hours hence. The 
shuttle would arrive in low earth orbit about ninety minutes 
after that. Cloaking, super-stealth technology would render the 
small shuttlecraft invisible to Earth-bound sensors. Clark had a 
small palm-sized transponder/receiver that would guide him and 
Mark to rendezvous with the shuttle along its orbital track. By 
then, Mark would be endowed with super powers enabling him to 
survive in space for short periods with no space suit, O2 supply 
or other special protective measures. 

Clark led his son to a small, round, metallic platform, elevated 
about two feet above the floor. The platform resembled a large 
"wafer," measuring about four feet across. It appeared to be 
"floating" above the floor with no visible means of support. A 
large vertical cylindrical lexan (clear plastic) tube was 
suspended directly overhead. Mark mounted the platform. The lexan 
cylinder slowly lowered into position enclosing him on the 
floating platform. Clark stepped over to a small control console. 
It was a flat, black, highly polished wafer-thin panel, the face 
of it canted toward Clark at about a forty-five degree angle. He 
spoke a few words and lights and swirling patterns sprang into 
existence ABOVE the panel. After a few moments, Clark spoke again 
and the "machine" responded with a soft hum. Within the lexan 
cylinder, Mark observed a kaleidacolor display on the inside 
surface, in the air around him and coursing all over his body. 
There was a slight, momentary, sensation of "heaviness," followed 
immediately by an ethereal sense of almost "weightlessness" and 
then it was over. Clark spoke a few more unintelligible words and 
the machine answered with a single, momentary soft yellow pulsing 
glow from the lexan cylinder. And then the cylinder lifted. 

Clark walked over to the platform and bid his son step down to 
the floor. 

Momentarily, Clark vanished before Mark's eyes, immediately 
reappearing. He was holding a metal rod, an inch and a half in 
diameter, about three feet long. "Mark, the system has verified 
transfer of your super powers and that they are fully stabilized. 
But, just to make sure, I want you to try to bend this rod. It's 
tempered steel. If this device has worked the way it's supposed 
to, it will be easy for you." 

Mark grasped either end of the steel rod with his hands, flexed 
it easily, folding it completely double! He didn't even have to 
strain! 

Clark's eyes lit up with joy. "Son, you have no idea how happy 
this makes me! All your life I've hoped and prayed for the day 
when I would see you do that!" 

Mark could feel his father's love and gratification inside 
himself. These were not his own emotions. He could "observe" 
them, even while feeling them intensely, inside himself, but with 
some measure of detachment and objectivity. This took some will 
power because he could just as easily have surrendered himself to 
his dad's emotions, joining him in a profoundly intimate sharing 
of his father's love and joy. Mark reflected, "This is a whole 
new dimension of sensing which must be related in some way these 
new 'powers.'" He carefully shielded himself from this, however, 
hardening his own heart. Mark would not let his dad "in" to share 
or even sense his own feelings. His father was the "enemy," now 
and this was "war." Mark understood instinctively that Clark 
would know he was hiding his feelings. Quickly, he prepared an 
"explanation," in case his dad should call him on it. He would 
explain that he was uncomfortable with this new kind of sensing 
and "needed time to adjust" to this new way of sharing one's 
feelings. He needn't have worried. Clark detected his son's 
defensive mental veil immediately but he wasn't about to push him 
to open up in this way. Not now. 

With his empathic abilities, Clark could even share emotions with 
ordinary Terrans, provided they were willing. Throughout their 
marriage, he and Lois had shared a level of emotional intimacy 
that most couples could never have dreamed possible, and this had 
been... every day! He had similar sharing of emotions with his 
two older super-sons as well. But his tentative efforts to probe 
and "share" emotions with Mark had met with resolute, if 
subconscious, rebuffs. He had long ago given up trying to 
establish "empathic links" with his youngest boy. Besides, Clark 
had not dared assert this gift too openly with Mark for fear of 
revealing the secret of his true nature to his youngest son. 

Mark handed the bent rod back to his dad and Clark dropped it to 
the floor. The clang of steel as it hit the stone floor 
reverberated throughout the great cavernous "hall." 

"Mark, this confirms it. You have all the super powers now that 
your brothers and I have. Would you like to take some time to try 
them out before we leave to rendezvous in orbit with the shuttle 
craft?" 

"I don't think so, Sir. No thanks. I think they would probably 
have something of a "narcotic, addictive" effect and I don't want 
to take that chance. What I'd rather would be to swing back by 
the cabin on our way outbound. I left my laptop in my rent-car 
and I'd like to snag it before I leave. I'd like to have that 
with me because I want to keep a journal of the trip to New 
Krypton." 

"Well, Mark, that's probably a fairly good idea. Maybe you should 
document your experiences out there. But you'd have to be very 
careful how you published that." 

"No doubt about it, Sir. Chances are, it'll never see the light 
of day. But I'd still like the option to document, anyway." 

"OK, Mark, whatever you say. I guess we're ready to leave, then. 
Flying is easy, Son. All you h