Smallville:
The Life and Times of Clark Kent
by That Long-Haired Creepy Guy
Episode 2 – Fire in the Sky
Episode Guide: The rocket ship containing the Last Son of Krypton arrives safely on Earth in Smallville, Kansas; bringing with it an unnatural disaster.
The vacuum of space was dead silent.
There was no noise, no sound to be heard, not even when a bright flash beyond the desolate gray moon appeared. The sudden light brought with it the appearance of a small craft.
"Planetary body confirmed," the ship's computer announced, to no one in particular as its sole inhabitant was presently sleeping. "Target designate: Earth."
Around the spaceship, debris and various alien shrapnel flew past, carried by the propulsion of the rocket and the velocity of the warp space it had just vacated. The spaceship had brought remnants of the planet Krypton with it; dragging the fragments through the warp as the planet exploded behind it.
"Records from Zor-El database confirms," the computer went on. "Planetary is a fifty-two percent match for Krypton's atmosphere. Being conversion of Birthing Matrix and atmospheric compatability of host."
Inside the craft, the console lit up as the Birthing Matrix that had been installed within the rocket set to work reconfiguring the child's biology so that the baby would survive. During this time, the craft hovered through space. The debris that had followed with it carried on, rocketing through the remaining space via momentum down to the planet not far away.
"Warning!"
The console within the vessel blared an alarm, which awoke the child inside the cockpit. Kal-El, the survivor of the exploding world he'd unknowingly vacated, opened his eyes and cried out. The wails went unnoticed, as the computer had other concerns.
"Secondary warp space detected," the computer announced to an uninterested passenger, who continued to scream. "Unknown vessel approaching trajectory!"
Behind the spacecraft, a second bright flash illuminated the dead black void of space. From out of it came another rocket ship, this one carrying the same basic design and function of its sister.
"Identity confirmed," the computer said, as the second rocket sped toward it. "Kryptonian model, bearing signature style of astrophysist, Zor-El. Recommend–"
The ship carrying Kal-El was cut off as the second rocket flew past, coming dangerously close. A piece of the second rocket's wingtip was knocked off as it hit the front of Kal-El's ship. Lights went dark for a moment inside the cockpit. The second ship continued onward, though the damage was done to both vessels.
"Danger!" the computer stammered, while the second vessel continued on toward Earth, though it veered hazardously off the original course it had set.
"Full system alert! Damage detected. Also, unk–own virulent agen–... ...compatable with syste– Scan for... Alert!"
A tri-orb insignia appeared on the monitor for a moment, flickering briefly. The console was brought back to life and the computer spoke again. This time, however, it used a different tone of voice.
"Reconfiguring systems," it announced coldly, which seemed to silence the child within the cockpit. "Projecting new trajectory course for Earth. System scan for concentrated debris trail."
The navigation system brought up the stardust trail left by the largest cluster of Krypton debris. The ship began to adjust its position accordingly. Slowly, it began to descend toward the blue planet.
"Resuming original mission," said the cold, unfeeling voice. "With... minor alterations."
Martha Kent sat back in the wooden kitchen chair, stretching her aching bones.
It was mid-afternoon by the clock above the sink on the counter. Jonathan, her husband, had already asked her to come with him into town. There were bills to pay, as usual. The testament of this fact was the stack of signed and stamped envelopes, each containing a check bearing their signatures. The joint account they shared at the local bank would be tapped dry after today.
Yet again.
"Dream a little dream, Martha," she told herself, sighing sadly before reaching over to pick up the cup of coffee cooling on the table top a few feet away.
The Kansas autumn was well under way by this point. Harvest season meant the local farms were picking their fields clean for crops. It would be winter soon, and as always, Martha wondered if the money made from their turnover would be enough to carry them through until spring.
"The life of a farm girl," she mused, after taking a long sip of coffee from the cup. "Did I ever think I'd be living this sort of thing for myself?"
The answer to that question was 'no', of course. Martha had never even heard of Smallville before she met Jonathan Kent. The little hamlet was a far cry from Central City, a whole state over in Missouri, where she'd grown up.
"Martha?"
Her husband's voice snapped Martha out of her private thoughts. "Honey?"
"In here, Jonathan," she called back, scooting the kitchen chair back away from the table to rise up. "And we're all set. You need a shower before we head out?"
Jonathan entered the house through the kitchen door, pausing to stomp his boots against the brick steps leading up to the entrance. A handsome man in his early forties, the husband of Martha Kent came from fine, Kansas-bred farm boy stock, and it showed. His eyes were a piercing shade of green; so bright they seemed to shine, especially when he was happy. Martha could never forget the first time she saw them. They still sometimes took her breath away, even after close to twenty years of marriage.
The senior Kent, meanwhile, had given up on trying to rid his boots of the dirt clinging to them. Reaching down, he pried both off his feet, one after the other. The task accomplished, he stepped into the kitchen and stripped out of his flannel overshirt. The act showed off the taughtness of his body beneath the blue t-shirt he wore.
Martha couldn't help but appreciate the view. She might have been only a year and change younger, but none of the years on her meant that she was blind to the obvious. Working on a farm since childhood had given her husband a defined, healthy body free of most fat. He hadn't shaved that morning–and though Martha knew she would complain later, she actually liked the scruff of beard beginning to show.
"Something wrong?" Jonathan asked, catching her admiring him.
"Sorry," she said, deciding not to tell her husband what was going through her mind. He was the sort of rare handsome man who remained utterly clueless of just how gorgeous he could be.
It kept a lot of the available–and not so available–women in town eternally frustrated, to Martha's everlasting amusement.
"I think I'll change, at least," Jonathan said, taking her at her word. "Maybe dust off the field dirt between my fingers and toes while I'm at it."
The wry smirk he put on for her managed to make Martha's toes curl in her shoes.
"You can shower," she told him, setting her cup down and picking up the stack of envelopes off the table. "We've still got time before the post office and city hall closes."
"Good." Jonathan actually looked a little relieved. "I'll be right quick about it."
"Take your time," she assured him, blushing a little when he paused in walking past her to plant a soft peck on her cheek. "The town's not going anywhere on us."
Jonathan laughed at this.
"I just bet they'd all stick around just t' make sure we gave 'em our money for the month," he teased, stripping the blue t-shirt off on his way out of the kitchen. "Go ahead an' start the truck up for me. I'll be right out."
Knowing it would be another twenty minutes before her husband returned, and not willing to sit outside in a hot truck with no air conditioning, Martha stayed put. Taking the cup back up in her hands, she finished off the last of the dark brown liquid. The coffee soothed her nerves somewhat. Martha could admit to herself that they were facing some tough times ahead of them. It was harder saying so out loud to her husband's face, however.
Jonathan had been through this sort of thing all his life. He knew how to survive. It was Martha that lived her whole life in a big city, going to parties as a teenager, and spending her father's money leisurely. The future sometimes scared her. It always came like a big gaping void of nothing, eager to be filled.
And yet, all Martha had to do was gaze deep into her husband's eyes. Each time she did, it had been worth it. She had believed that leaving her old life behind to become Mrs. Kent would be the hardest thing she'd ever faced. It was what everyone–including her parents–had told her. Her so-called friends insisted she would be back inside of a year; that a life in Kansas would sour on her fast.
"Shows what they know," she said, adding a huff at the end.
Martha washed her cup out in the sink and set it to drain, then reached over to snag the keys to the truck off the rack. The bills had been safely tucked away in the back pocket of her jeans.
"Daddy always said a lady never wore jeans out in public," she went on to herself, heading out the door to start the truck up. "Guess he never figured I'd be living in Kansas either. But let him walk around in the dirty streets for a day and see how well he likes it."
Martha went out to the beat-up red truck that her husband had bought at retail some ten years ago. She was sitting in the driver's seat with the engine running when Jonathan came outside, hair still wet and wearing a nice set of jeans and a button-up shirt.
"I'll drive," she informed him, leaving no room for argument in her voice. "You don't have your glasses on again."
Jonathan's hand went up to his face reflexively, and he swore. It looked as though he might run back inside for them, but Martha knew better. A moment later, he was walking around the front of the truck, grumbling the whole time.
"I hate wearin' them damned things," he cussed, sliding into the passenger seat, and giving the door a much harder slam than was required.
"You remember what the optometrist and Deputy Parker both told you," she reminded, shifting the gear into reverse. "You can't drive without wearing your glasses from now on. That's just how it has to be."
Jonathan looped a hand through the arm rest on his side as the truck rolled backward.
"They make me look like a bloomin' librarian," he said, still complaining, as Martha slowed the truck to a stop and shifted into first. "If I'd a know you liked the brainy bunch so much, I'd wear 'em to bed."
"Well, it would be nice for you to know who you fall asleep next to every night," Martha chided playfully as the truck rolled down Old State Road toward town. "Especially after the lights go out."
Jonathan smirked at that, looking pleased with himself for a moment.
"I think I've got that pretty much figured out by now," he said smugly. "If you need me to remind you later, though..."
Martha's response was to let go of the wheel with one hand and smack her husband on the leg. This made Jonathan laugh, and before long, the two were both chuckling to themselves.
"Think we'll be okay this year?" Martha asked seriously, once the laughter had died down.
Jonathan knew what she was referring to.
"There's always a surpluss," he reminded gently, not letting her see the worried look that he wore staring out the passenger window. "We'll make it."
"There's always a little more ," she pointed out tensely. "Each year, that surpluss gets a little big bigger than before."
Martha paused the conversation to focus on the road. They'd come to the edge of Smallville city limits proper. The stop light up ahead had flashed to red, bringing the handful of cars on the road to a halt.
"There's Mr. Cooper," Jonathan noticed out his window, nodding at the elderly black man sweeping the sidewalk outside the small grocery store. "You know, I hear he's thinkin' about retirin'."
Martha snorted, tapping the gas pedal lightly as the light up front changed to green.
"That man'll never leave this town," she insisted, moving the truck along with the flow of traffic. "It'll take Death himself to get him to shut down that place."
"Eh, maybe he'll sell it," Jonathan mused, shifting in his seat. "I'd rather some folks around here buy the store and keep it running. Rather buy from him than deal with one a' them big ol' fancy chain places."
"Yes, dear," Martha muttered, reminded once more of her husband's distaste for grocery chains.
The couple drove to the bank first. The lines were, as always, equally long no matter which teller they picked from. It would be a few years before the loan they'd borrowed was paid up, but each payment made Martha feel a little more hopeful.
The ride down to city hall took longer. One of the traffic lights had malfunctioned, it looked like, and Deputy Parker was standing at the intersection, waving cars along.
"Surprised to see him out today," Jonathan mumbled, looking away unhappily as they rode past the deputy sherrif. "Wonder if somebody'll try an' run him down."
"Jonathan," Martha scolded. "That's really not your place. Now, is it?"
Her husband appeared to reconsider something to himself. Shifting again in his seat, he griped hold of the arm rest again, looking tense.
"I am sorry," he apologized to her. "It's just, I went to church with Greg Parker. I remember him from when he barely reached my waist. He an' his brother both used to be thick as thieves."
Martha bit her lower lip, bringing the wheel around in a circle so she would make the turn through traffic into the city hall parking lot.
"Not sayin' it's my place to pass judgment on Douglas," Jonathan verified, while Martha slid the truck into a parking space. "But, how could he do somethin' like that to Greg? And for so long, too?"
"Since high school," Martha said quietly, her fingers gripping the wheel even after she'd put the truck in park and killed the engine. "That's what they're saying, at least. And Greg's wife just had a kid."
The mention of children caused Jonathan to grimace. It was a touchy subject for the two of them, even after so many years.
"I'm so sorry, darlin'," said Jonathan, reaching over to touch his wife tenderly.
Martha let in a deep breath, steeling herself. They hadn't spoken of it for a while. It seemed like the best way to move on from it. Martha had contracted measles when she was little, despite being innoculated. Doctors at the time guessed that she'd received a bad batch by accident. Fortunately, the disease hadn't been strong enough to do lasting damage, except for one thing.
Martha could never have children. She was still an infant when the disease struck her, so the doctors hadn't thought about it at the time. Jonathan and her had tried everything they could think of, but with their limited budget, it looked hopeless.
"I'm fine," she promised, giving him a smile that didn't quite make it to her eyes.
The expression on her husband's face suggested he didn't believe it. Nevertheless, Jonathan said no more on the subject. Cracking his door, the farm fed Kansas man stepped out, then walked around the front of the truck to meet with her. It had taken years, but Martha managed to break Jonathan Kent of the habit of walking around to open the door for her.
"Very good," she teased, carrying the stack of remaining envelopes with her. "You remembered I can open the door on my own like a big girl without me saying anything."
"Twenty years of marriage will teach you something," Jonathan joked back, walking along side by side with her. "Eventually."
The city hall was less crowded by comparison. The couple were able to conclude their business without much incident.
At least, that is, until they walked back out together.
"Martha!"
Martha turned at the mention of her name, the mane of red hair she wore long down her back tossing involuntarily. Before she was halfway done with the turn, however, a part of her cringed on the inside. She recongized the voice; and sure enough, Loretta Potter was coming their way.
"And Jonathan Kent," Loretta added almost gleefully, stepping right past Martha to give him a squeeze on the arm.
The touch came dangerously close to copping a feel of her husband's bicep. Martha figured she should let the desperate woman have it. It was the most Loretta would get out of Jonathan for as long as Martha remained alive.
"Hello, Loretta," Jonathan greeted politely, offering the woman a small smile. "Nice to see you out an' about today."
"Oh, I was just right across the street when I saw you both go in," she said, trying to look around Martha rather than at her. "And I just had to come by and say hello."
"It's good to see you again," said Martha, figuring she may as well lie through her teeth if she was going to be polite at all.
Loretta stood at a good five-foot four, several inches shorter than Martha with or without heels. The Kansas native carried the bright blonde hair that marked her as from the Potter family. Her feet were indeed tucked inside a pair of heels, bringing her just short of eye level with Martha Kent. A staring contest meant that Loretta would have to look up to her, something Martha suspected the blonde-haired woman couldn't stand the thought of.
"I saw Douglas on the way here," Jonathan informed her, and Martha knew he was trying to deflect so they could make a clean getaway.
Unfortunately, Loretta didn't appear flummoxed by the recent scandal one bit.
"Yes, I spoke with him earlier this morning," Loretta went right along with, nonplussed. "By the way, did either of you hear the news yet?"
Martha hadn't, but figured Loretta was dying to tell somebody. It would explain her excitement, as well as her reason for walking across the street to say hi.
"About?" Martha ventured, wanting to get the conversation over with as fast as manners allowed.
"Greg and Marie are moving to Metropolis," Loretta revealed, clearly expecting a bombshell reaction from them. "Isn't that just crazy?"
Martha couldn't help but give Loretta what she wanted. Jonathan's facial expression was more subdued, but just barely.
"All the way out to California?" Martha asked, needing verification.
"What on Earth for?" Jonathan wondered.
Loretta put on a display of appearing sheepish for a moment as she leaned in toward them. It was obvious she didn't care who might overhear. For Loretta, though, appearance and performance went together, and she was all about putting on both.
"After what happened," she whispered, in a you-know-what sort of way. "After Greg... 'found out', I mean to say. He told my sister that she could stay with him and the baby, but only if they left Smallville for good."
"Land sakes alive," said Jonathan. "I never thought Greg Parker would leave Smallville for anything. And to go live in Metropolis, you said?"
"They've already signed a lease to rent an apartment," Loretta revealed, nodding with her lower lip pursed out like she'd bitten into something sour.
A sudden, loud rumble from afar broke through the conversation. The noise was brief, but came fast enough to startle all three. Pedestrians across the street stopped in mid-step to turn and look around.
"Thunder?" Jonathan asked, searching the clear sky for signs of a storm. "Wasn't supposed to rain today, was it?"
"Not according to the weatherman," Martha confirmed, though she too looked up. "'Course, you know how that goes."
Loretta opened her mouth to speak again, having her own opinion on the matter in mind. Her words were cut off as more noise followed. The loud 'booms' sounded like explosions more than thunder, coming in rapid succession.
"That don' sound right," Jonathan said softly.
"Jonathan?" Martha asked, making the name a question as she stared in shock off above the row of buildings across the street. "Is that smoke I see?"
It was not just in the distance. Loretta pointed down the road from where they all stood, aiming at a second plume of smoke coming from inside the city limits.
"Oh my god!" Loretta screamed, looking all at once panicked. "Is that a fire? My sister's house is back in that direction."
Any illusion about what might not be happening died then. An explosion rocked the street in front of the city hall building. Asphalt and gravel went flying, scattering in all directions. Jonathan instinctively grabbed both women in his arms, pulling them back out of the way. Other citizens weren't quite so fortunate.
"What on God's green Earth–?" he wondered, daring to look up at the carnage unfolding on the street.
Two buildings down, a hardware store was reduced to rubble and flames. Smoke rose up in towers all over Smallville. The city had gone from an idyllic midwestern paradise to a warzone in the space of a few breaths.
"Get to the truck!" Martha howled, yelling for her husband and Loretta's benefit.
Neither one of them argued with her. Martha tossed Jonathan the keys as he ran past her, going to fire the engine up. Loretta and she were climbing aboard as he cranked the ignition.
"Glasses, remember?" Martha reminded, trying to take the wheel from him.
"Martha, I really don' think now's the time," Jonathan started, ready to argue.
The couple was silenced by city hall exploding right in front of them. Loretta screamed again, and all three ducked down as far as the cabin of the truck would allow. Something hit the windshield, breaking through the glass and cracking it, but the glass pane itself held.
"You're right," Martha conceded, once she'd raised back up. "Jonathan, drive!"
Loretta seized hold of the dashboard of the truck for leverage as Jonathan peeled backward out of the parking lot. The road was blocked because of the explosion in the street occurring in front of the parking lot entrance. Jonathan didn't let that stop him, though. Spinning the truck around and shifting gears, he slammed one foot down on the gas, speeding around the crater by going up onto the far side of the sidewalk.
"Jonathan, watching out!" Martha cried, pointing at the pedestrians still left by the buildings and explosions.
"I see 'em," Jonathan grunted, turning the wheel so that the truck drove halfway on the sidewalk, giving the injured folks enough breth to avoid getting hit.
"Gotta get to a pay phone," Jonathan said. "Too many injured folks out, and they're gonna need help from us."
"I know that, Jonathan," said Martha. "But..."
"Look!"
Loretta's cry startled Jonathan Kent enough to make him slam on the brakes. Out the broken glass of the windshield, fire rained down from the sky. All three passengers looked out, watching in horror as fiery rocks slammed into the ground from on high. The sky had darkened somewhere during their attempt to flee. It looked as if a storm cloud was building up right over their heads.
"Gracious lord," Martha breathed out. "Jonathan, what...?"
Jonathan had no words. Neither did Loretta, or even Martha, for she had stopped in mid-sentence. The town of Smallville was ablaze. Buildings crumbled or burned; smoke filled the air around them; and in the distance, lightning struck.
"My sister!" Loretta cried, like it had just dawned on her. "I've got to get to my sister's house!"
Jonathan flung open his door and leaped out of the cabin.
"Martha," he ordered, while she slid into the driver's seat, "take the wheel and drive Loretta over to her sister's. Make sure they're okay."
"Already on it, Jonathan," Martha said, having followed her husband's train of thought. "You be careful, now. Don't do anything too foolish."
"I won't," Jonathan swore, kissing his wife goodbye. "I'm gonna see if I can't help out these folks here. Maybe lend a hand whenever the fire department or an ambulance comes by."
"They'll be a long ways off," Martha warned, though she wasn't protesting his heroism. "Something like this..."
Martha froze as her eyes caught a glimpse of the chaos across town in the distance.
"I'll be careful," he reminded her, squeezing her hand to help reassure her. "Maybe I can help some a' these folks get to the hospital."
"Go," said Martha, giving her blessing. "We'll be fine."
Jonathan stepped back out of the way, giving Martha room to close the door and drive off. Watching the truck peel off down the street, he felt his heart clench.
"Ya'll be careful!" he called out, knowing it was too late for Martha to hear him. "I love you, Martha Kent!"
Sirens were still in the air long after the bombardment had ceased. Fire trucks raced to put out the flames. Police cars patrolled the area to offer reassurance and aid wherever they could, as well as scare of looters. Ambulances moved along through areas of the city that they could reach, taking the seriously injured to the hospital.
Locals passed out food, blankets, and bottles of water. Tents and make-shift shelters had been converted for those who had lost their homes in the disaster. News vans and helecopters were reporting on the meteor shower, reading off from a list of missing persons.
Sadly, Loretta Potter didn't need to search among the names being broadcast for her sister. She and her brother-in-law had already been found. Their bodies were pulled out of the wreckage of Greg Parker's home, along with their infant child. A meteorite had struck the house, landing near the propane tank outside the house. The igniting fire spread quickly, triggering a collapse. Neighbors had helped put out the blaze before it spread throughout the block, but Greg and Marie Parker were dead.
"I don't know what I'll do," Loretta sobbed, looking on while the parametics examined the baby. "She's so little... I can't..."
Loretta broke down into sobs again. Martha offered no words of comfort, but simply held the woman close so she could cry out her grief. Jonathan had made sure the two of them were fine before asking around, making sure there was nothing else they could do.
"You could use sleep," Martha advised, once Loretta had quieted. "And a hot cup of tea."
"I need a freakin' drink," Loretta muttered. "Oh, god. I've never been a parent before. And I don't even have a crib to put her in for the night."
"We'll," Martha interjected, recognizing the beginnings of a panic, "look into all that tomorrow, maybe. You don't even need to take the little girl home with you tonight. She'll be fine at the hospital until the doctors give the okay."
Jonathan came over, walking around Loretta to stand beside Martha.
"I've offered the farm up to anybody that needs a roof over their head," he told them, looking out with tired eyes across the wrecked city street. "Deputy Parker says we outta just head home for now. Not much left to do that folks here in town can't manage themselves."
"We'll come back tomorrow," Martha decided, knowing her husband felt the same. "Loretta, would you like to come home with us?"
Loretta smiled, but shook her head.
"No, but thanks," she said softly. "I feel like I need to be in a familiar place right now. Somewhere I feel... safe?"
Martha nodded, offering no objections.
"I know the feeling," she said, meaning it. "If you need anything, or if you and Cassidy want to come by just to say hello, we'll always leave the door open for you."
Loretta was willing to accept a lift home. Martha drove the truck around to the woman's house, having to use several detours because of the destroyed streets. When Loretta said goodnight, Jonathan unbuckled his seat belt to slide over next to Martha.
"Sorry, darling," he whispered, holding her with one arm. "But I could really use this right now."
Martha leaned into her husband, letting her warmth mingle with his. The ride out of town was quiet. Neither of them had much to say to one another. The day had been something out of a nightmare, a horror she would dream about and remember for years to come.
"Been some day, huh?" Jonathan asked wearily as the truck drove out through the backroads toward the Kent farm. "Need me to drive?"
"I'm good," Martha reassured, keeping her hands tightly on the wheel. "What I want is a hot bath and a long night's sleep."
"Assuming we got runnin' water," Jonathan said, chuckling mirthlessly. "Or a house t' sleep in tonight. You know, I was so busy running 'round town today, I never had th' chance to check out our own place."
"Be a hell of a thing for us to drive all the way back," Martha agreed, "only to find the farm buried under a pile of space rock."
Jonathan thought about that.
"So long as the cows don't gotta be put back in th' pen," he decided, the laughter following his statement sounding more genuine, "I won't complain."
Martha laughed with him, giving her husband a playful elbow to the ribs. This far out of the city, the stars were shining bright. Martha had the side window rolled down to help see out of. In the dark, the shattered windshield was much harder to see out of.
"You ever worry 'bout all this?" Jonathan asked abruptly, taking her by surprise. "I mean, 'bout what all's happened, and what it means."
Martha considered the question. In the midst of her musing, a streak of bright light flashed across the sky.
"It's a shooting star," Martha whispered. "Guess that makes sense."
Jonathan searched the sky for signs of the phenomenon, but the skyborn piece of astral rock had already passed on.
"You spotted it," he told her, speaking softly. "Guess that means you get to make a wish."
Martha made a sound, and it was like a noise of complete defeat.
"Not tonight, Jonathan," she said, sighing. "If I had a wish, though, it'd be for things to get better. For us, and for everybody else on this planet as well. Sometimes, I feel as though–"
Martha felt her hands get thrown from the wheel. The truck bucked up off its wheels, tossing herself and Jonathan about inside the cabin like a couple of kernals in a popcorn popper. Dirt flew up out of the ground, splashing across the windshield. This proved to be the straw that broke the camel's proverbial back. The glass shattered on impact, covering Martha and Jonathan in small, shallow cuts along with a wave of soil.
"That's it," Jonathan grumbled, once he could move again. "Never thought I'd live to say this, Martha, but maybe we should consider movin' to the big city with your family."
Martha, to his great relief, was relatively unharmed, able to move on her own. Quickly, she climbed out of the truck to check and make sure everything moved the way it should.
"Well, Jonathan," she called back, as he husband got out to do the same. "Nothing funny ever fell down on Central City, as far as I could tell you."
Martha looked ahead, anxious to see what had tried to kill them this time. Her whole body stopped moving, going completely slack, as her brain registered what it was she was seeing.
"Jonathan..." she whispered, though it was too soft to be heard.
"I tell you what, Martha," her husband was saying as he circled around the back of the truck, "if God's trying to send us a message, he's losin' his touch where subtley is concerned."
Martha couldn't speak, so she settled for pointing straight ahead of her. Jonathan noticed the dumbstruck look on his wife's face before he saw her pointing finger. It took a second or so more before the spacecraft that had landed across the road in front of their truck finally hit home.
"That–" Jonathan tried, but words failed him afterward.
Martha boldly stepped forward, which shook him out of it enough to go after her.
"Martha, what're you doin'?" he demanded, taking hold of her arm. "That thing's probably dangerous. Hell, it like t' have killed us as it is. Land sakes, Sunday drivers are bad enough when they're on the ground."
Martha effortlessly slipped her arm out of Jonathan's grasp.
"It looks like something off of Star Trek," she marveled, getting up close to the craft. "You can feel the heat from it."
Jonathan hung back for a moment, not sure if his feet were still taking signals from his head.
"Terrific," he muttered. "We're being invaded. First the whole town goes to hell, and now the Chinese are sending down their space trash on us."
"Really, Jonathan." Martha's voice was sharp, but she didn't take her eyes off the craft. "Does this thing look Chinese to you?"
The hatch of the main part of the craft popped open unexpectedly. Martha jumped, but then moved in closer for a better look. Jonathan finally got his legs working again and followed after her. By the time he had reached the craft, his wife was already reaching inside it.
"I don't believe it," Martha cried out, reaching into the cockpit.
"What?" Jonathan wondered, leaning forward. "Is it E.T.?"
When Martha raised back out, she was holding something in her arms. The thing moved, and Jonathan's head was filled with visions of little green men, small robot monsters, or even one of those slimy chest-burster things.
"It's a baby," Martha declared, holding the perfectly healthy, human-looking child up for him to inspect. "Can you believe it? A baby, in a rocket ship!"
"I see it," Jonathan said, staring at the child as Martha brought the two of them closer. "It's the believin' part I'm..."
Jonathan's eyes met with the child's, and something reflexed then in those small, bluest of blue eyes.
"...having some trouble... with."
Martha ran her finger up and down along the baby boy's stomach, tickling him. The child responded in kind, laughing joyously.
"La... ra..." said the baby, looking up into Martha's face. "La... ra..."
"He can already talk," she gasped, before grinning from ear to ear. "Come on, Jonathan. We have to go. There's work to do."
Jonathan felt his wife touch him on the shoulder, but it wasn't until she moved away that he finally snapped out of his daze.
"What?" he asked again, looking around to find Martha already over by the truck. "You wanna go back and look at the farm now?"
"Oh, I don't mean any of that," Martha chided impatiently. "I mean, take the truck and go back to pick up your platform trailer."
Jonathan was having some trouble catching up to his wife's train of thought. Slowly, as though in a dream, he followed the path of her footsteps back to the truck. Martha had already gone back to playing with the child in her arms.
"What?" he tried, for the third time that night.
"Here," Martha instructed, passing him the keys. "You'll need to hurry. This old road doesn't see much traffic, but we shouldn't risk it. That thing's stretched out smack dab in the middle of the lane."
Jonathan looked from the keys in his hand to the truck.
"You want us to move it?" he wondered, still not quite where Martha was just yet.
"Well, we have to," Martha replied, like the answer was obvious. "We can't just leave it here and expect everyone to mistake it for a great big chunk of rock from outer space. Folks around here aren't that gullible. Not even ol' man McKhullen will by that horse puckey."
Jonathan did as his wife bid, deciding he was better off not thinking too hard at the moment. The engine started back up easily. There wasn't any serious damage to the truck. It appeared the crash landing of the rocket had merely caused it to buck off the road some.
"I'll wait here," Martha told him through the open window. "Scare of anybody if they come along trying to get through. Be quick, though!"
"Yeah," Jonathan said, still lost to the fog in his mind. "Quick, I guess."
The road emptied out not far from Old State Road. Jonathan managed to return with the platform trailer in about thirty minutes. Martha stood outside under the cover of night the whole time, keeping the child warm with her coat. His soft coos and baby noises kept away the chill.
"I was thinking about baby names," she informed her husband, once he'd returned and stepped out of the truck. "What do you say to 'Clark'? You know, my father's surname."
"You wanna give a name to him... it... that, now?" asked Jonathan, who hadn't moved since he stepped out of the truck.
"Of course," she insisted. "Let's hurry and get his spaceship loaded onto the platform. I doubt we'll have to worry much about people seeing it. Thankfully, it's plenty dark out tonight."
Jonathan didn't move.
"Stop," he said, making the word a desperate request. "Martha, just stop for a second and think about what I think it is that you're thinkin'."
Martha knew that sound in her husband's voice. She knew he was serious, but she was also not a woman to be easily deterred. A debutante growing up in the blue collar capitol of the world did not get far without nerves of steel and the ability to cogitate.
"Yes, Jonathan?" she asked, staring at him with her war face on.
Jonathan Kent found himself longing for the meteorites back in Smallville.
"We have... a spaceship," he said, making aimless gestures back toward the craft in question, "of some kind... and a baby. From said spaceship."
"Who is all alone," Martha declared, and it was obvious she already felt that settled the matter. "Whoever this baby is, whatever he was, he's all alone here in the world now. All alone, Jonathan Kent, except for us."
Jonathan found he had already lost the argument. More to the point, he realized, it wasn't something he really wanted to succeed at.
"But," he added, unable to let the matter completely drop, "there may be trouble for it. You've seen the same ol' movies I have, Martha. People... government people, they check in with stuff like this. And there's no way we can pass him off as our own. Too many people know!"
"You're right," Martha acknowledged, looking off to the side thoughtfully. "And even if we say we found him somewhere–which is the truth, mind you–they'll still run tests on him. It's just standard stuff to see if a child has diseases. And we don't know–"
"–what they are," Jonathan finished, worry creasing his brow. "Or what they might be. Or even if his blood looks... well, human!"
The long-married couple fell silent, letting the noises of the surrounding fields and the baby's soft cooing fill the voice.
"We'll worry about that later," Martha concluded. "Come on, let's get that blasted thing loaded up and the baby into some warm clothes. It's too cold out here to keep jawing on this way."
The craft was heavy, of course, but Jonathan had thought to add his wench and chain to the back of the truck along with the platform wagon. It took a few minutes, but they managed. The baby sat in the front of the cabin the whole time, patiently waiting for them to finish. Finally, they had it up on the platform and chained down. Martha didn't even object when Jonathan got behind the wheel to drive.
"Any trouble?" Jonathan asked, easing the truck forward. "On the road while I was gone, I mean?"
"Quiet as a country mouse," answered Martha, alternative her attention between the baby and the road. "I flipped on the radio while you were gone. Police are advising folks to stay off the roads and remain inside their houses."
"Good," Jonathan said, relieved. "Less conspicuous that way."
In back of the truck, atop the platform wagon, the cockpit inside the spacecraft came to life. It had gone quiet following the crash, but now the monitors glowed with an unearthly presence.
Cross-checking/scanning...
Cross-checking/scanning...
Commencing scan/checking for damages...
Commencing scan/checking for/error!
Commencing/Birthing Matrix completed...
Birthing Matrix complet/scanning...
Scanning/error/error/scanning/completed...
Birthing Matrix completed/Damage report initiated!
Damage report/Request/Damage assessment...
Scanning/Report/Error/Scanning/Error!
Self-diagnostic commencing/Begin initial repairs/Error!
Self-diagnostic commencing/Begin language translation/Error!
All of this went unnoticed by the three passengers up front. None of them looked back to check the cockpit for signs of life. There was no life abort the ship itself, of course, but there was sentience inside of it.
Translation/words...
Translation/words...
Translation/Translation/Translation!
Braniac... error/error/error!