Fugitives
Chapter 3
One year later…
A year had passed since four Kryptonian refugees had crash-landed on Earth. Now, due to the good graces of the US government, they were settled in a comfortable apartment in downtown Metropolis; and Jor El had to admit the location was ideal…
The Grande Bourse, with its boutiques, coffee-houses, and the beautiful park, where all the chess players congregated, was just a short walk away. For Zod, especially, the Grande Bourse was a heaven-send.
He had been told to build up his lung capacity as much as was possible, and daily walks were an integral part of that.
It had become a daily routine for Zod; out of the apartment by nine AM, walking all around the Grande Bourse, winding it up at the Koffee Klatch, then spending an hour or two, or maybe more, with the chess-players at the Park.
Jor El, too, had settled into his new life, and it had turned out to be hauntingly similar to his old life.
Just a few months ago, he had been made scientific Advisor to the President of the United States of America.
The Terran drive to advance almost made Jor El giddy with excitement. The Humans had already worked out the principles of the Phantom Drive, and were now hard at work designing engines capable of using the Phantom Drive.
Soon, they would be ready to stake their claim on the universe.
But…
Krypton was out there…
Maybe the Council of Krypton had forgiven and forgotten. After all, it wasn't as if Jor El had really committed any crime; and he had talked Zod out of trying for a coup, so Zod hadn't really done anything wrong either.
We are all very unlikely to cross paths. Unless the Humans come to their attention…
If the Council ever discovered the Humans had the Phantom drive, they would know full well whom to blame; and-if it came down to actual war, well…
Krypton's guns were bigger than Earth's…
Also, Earth wasn't yet a unified polity. Oh, the U.N. was a rudimentary beginning; but the humans still had a way to go before they became a truly unified one-world government.
Jor El heard the apartment door open and close, Zod back from his daily outing.
Jor El still couldn't look at him without feeling deep guilt.
Zod had lost weight over the year, becoming long and lanky; the power and strength he used to have gone in the wake of severe lung damage. Dr. Emil Hamilton had said he would probably never get back to what he had been before.
Compared to the other Kryptonians, he was downright frail. Compared to Humans, though, it was…complicated.
It had been estimated that Zod was probably somewhat stronger than the average human, but likely not by much.
In any event, his world, his limits were bounded by his lung capacity. He could manage a short glide, but real flying, like what Kal, Jor El himself, Lara and Faora, could do, was beyond him. His lungs couldn't handle the stress.
At least his x-ray vision was fine, and he could still do "That eye-laser thing" as Colonel Nathan Hardy so eloquently put it…
I led him into this…
Zod never talked about his feelings on being so badly disabled. But he wasn't much of a talker anyway, so Jor El couldn't be sure how Zod felt.
It seemed like he had made his peace with it…
Now, wearing Human clothes, jeans and a tee under a light denim jacket; the ever-present cannulas in his nose, the casual observer would never have believed Zod had been born on another world.
"How are you feeling, Zod?"
"Fine," Zod grunted as he took off his jacket, and hung it neatly. "How about you? They keeping you and Lara busy?"
Lara, with her specialty being in Life Sciences had found a plush position at Metropolis Central Hospital. Even Faora had a position of some importance.
Liaison of Krypton/Human Affairs.
"Yes," Jor El nodded. "We're all quite busy."
Zod grunted again, and Jor El thought he heard a muttered, I wish I could be busy too…
Zod's main responsibility lay in reclaiming as much of his health and strength as he could. But the Warrior Caste was trained, from early childhood on, to despise idleness.
Jor El had spent a long time trying to figure something out for Zod; something meaningful. It didn't need to have a large salary, or even any salary at all. Zod was indifferent to the concept of wealth. Like most of the Warrior caste, what mattered most to him was doing; doing something concrete for his people
Well, the Humans are his people now…
It had been Dr. Hamilton to the rescue…again…
"Emil may have found a job for you," Jor El began. "It's a volunteer job."
"What and where?" Zod's interest was certainly piqued.
"It's at the VA center, a few blocks down"
"I've seen it," Zod said. "What would I be doing?"
"You'd be working with the young men and women of the armed forces who have suffered traumatic war injuries. It's a part time position, twelve hours, Monday's, Wednesdays, and Fridays four hours each. You up to that?"
"Will I be able to start this Monday?"
That was the answer Jor El was hoping to hear.
No one likes feeling useless…
Zod's life now took on a routine quality…
Up at seven AM, half hour of exercise before shower and breakfast. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons devoted to helping wounded war veterans any way he could; sometimes being on hand as a vet tried walking on a new artificial limb for the first time. Other times, it was just being an attentive ear…
The whole world knew Zod, and his friends were extraterrestrials; literally from another world. The vets knew something else about Zod. Nobody ever spoke of it, but they all knew Zod was one of them, a brother from another world…
After work, Zod would walk down to the Bourse, to his favorite coffee place.
The Koffee Klatch regulars knew him now, considered him one of their own. The baristas even knew how he liked his coffee.
Plain, black and bitter…
Coffee had been a source of amazement. Krypton did have a caffeine equivalent; but it was a wan and feeble thing in comparison to Earth coffee…
"Hey, Zod…"
The elderly man, speaking with an accent Zod was beginning to recognize as British, held a coffee in one hand, and a chess kit in the other.
"Have time for a session?"
"Yes, Andrew," Zod gestured at the pretty barista ready to take his order. "I'll be right over."
Colonel Nathan Hardy parked the SUV close to the Koffee Klatch. A lot had changed since he and Dr. Hamilton had come to the rescue of four Kryptonians…
Both he and Hamilton had been detailed to look after the refugees. Another time, Hardy might have scoffed at the idea of being essentially a babysitter; but this…
This was a once-in-a-million-years opportunity. Living with extraterrestrials, eating Dinner with them, on a regular basis…
We've even done pizza and a movie…
Faora detested anchovies, but liked mushrooms; and Zod wasn't terribly fond of pepperoni, but liked anchovies very much…
Speaking of Zod, it was time to bring him home…
There he was, in the park, facing one of the chess-players.
Zod probably didn't know this, but Andrew St. Claire was universally recognized by the chess-playing community as being one of the best in the game.
According to Jor El, Zod had taken to chess like a duck to water.
The two men were hunched over the game board, heads almost touching. Hardy didn't consider himself any kind of chess expert-Emil Hamilton was far better at the game than he-but it looked like St. Claire was winning.
It also looked like it hadn't been an easy victory at all.
Finally, Zod sighed regretfully, tipped his King over…
"I almost had you," he reached across to shake hands.
"A few months more and you will," St. Claire assured him. "I find it hard to believe that you've never played chess before. You're a natural."
Hardy delicately cleared his throat, and the two men looked up.
"Your ride is here, I see," St. Claire stood, finishing his coffee. "See you tomorrow?"
"Certainly," Zod slipped his jacket back on. "I'll get you yet…"
Dinner was usually six, the four Kryptonians and their Human caretakers. Sometimes it was eight, when Kal and his Human girlfriend, Lois Lane, came to Dinner. Now, though, it was five.
Dr. Emil Hamilton had unexpectedly been called away…
Dr. Hamilton was at the Pentagon, feeling hungry, out of sorts, and not a little frightened.
NASA had been conducting experiments with the new Phantom Drive engines, sending unmanned probes all over the galaxy. The experiments had been successful, and Hamilton was still trying to work out the implications of that in his mind.
We have a functional hyper-spatial drive.
But someone had apparently noticed…
Long-range satellites focused on the Asteroid Belt had caught the intruder progressing through the Asteroid Belt, and Hamilton might very well have thought it a comet, or a rogue asteroid.
But asteroids don't generally make course corrections…
Someone was at the helm…
More aliens…oh, joy…
General Swanwick was also there, staring at the monitor.
"How long before they enter earth orbit?"
"Somewhere close to noon, I think, sir."
The aggravating thing was that something was fouling the scanners. The intruder was showing on radar and such. But no camera was able to get a clear picture of what the ship looked like, and they wouldn't until the ship-whatever it was-actually entered orbit.
"Call Jor El," Swanwick ordered. "Bring him into this."
"Yes, sir," Hamilton already had his cellphone out. At this time of night, just past midnight, he might have expected the call to go straight to voicemail. But Jor El was a notorious night owl…
"Hello?"
"It's me, Jor,"
"Emil, where are you and why are you awake at this time of night?"
Hamilton took a deep breath.
"We may have a situation," he finally admitted. "A car has been sent for you."
"What is it?"
"More ETs, Jor. General Swanwick thinks you should be involved in this, and I agree."
"All right, I'll be waiting…"
They hung up and Hamilton swung his attention back to the monitor showing the intruder's progress.
Who are you?
One of the benefits of being a Kryptonian on Earth is that one tires less easily…
It was almost noon of the following day, Jor El had gotten no sleep at all, yet he was still, as the Terran saying went, as fresh as a daisy…
He had been picked up by a Marine Corporal in plainclothes. A jet was waiting for him at the airport, and now he was here, at the Pentagon, along with Dr. Hamilton and General Swanwick, watching as the intruder made its final approach, still using advanced technology to futz the Terran Scanners.
To his knowledge, there were only a very few civilizations capable of doing all of that.
One of those civilizations was Krypton.
"Have they answered our hails?"
Swanwick was remarkably calm for someone facing potential alien invasion.
"No, sir," Hamilton responded. "They are maintaining complete radio silence."
But now the intruder was here, sliding into earth orbit. They must have turned off whatever they were using to futz the Terran scanners, because, now, the ship was suddenly clearly visible, and Jor El felt his mouth go dry.
Kryptonian…
It was a Command Module; the equivalent of a dreadnought, and a general would be in charge.
Who will they have chosen to replace Zod? Tyr? Or Vax?
"Sir!" a Junior Tech spoke up. "There are thousands of…devices leaving the ship."
"How big?"
"Think they're the size of baseballs, Sir," another tech spoke up. "And it looks like there's millions of them, not thousands."
"Scan-droids…" Jor El stood there, staring up at the wall monitor. The scan-droids were scattering, in their millions, all over the world; a large percentage flocking all over America.
They're searching. For us...
He pulled out his cellphone, speed-dialed home.
"Hardy speaking."
"Where's everyone, Nathan?"
"Lara's working at the hospital, Zod's probably at the Bourse by now, and Faora's here. What's up?"
"The Kryptonians are here. They've sent millions of scan-droids all over the world, including Metropolis. Get everyone together and take them to the Air Force Base."
"Right," Hardy hung up and Jor El found himself praying.
Please…let us escape their notice…
Hardy cursed fluently in Mandarin…
"Faora!" he bellowed.
"What?" Faora poked her head out of the kitchen, calmly munching on a peanut butter sandwich.
"Jor El just called. More Kryptonians have arrived, and they're using what he called scan-droids. Go to the hospital, get Lara, and take her to the base. You stay there too."
"What about General Zod?" Faora had dropped her sandwich.
"I'll get him," Hardy grabbed two sets of keys, tossed one to Faora. Then they were both off, Faora in the red sportster, Hardy in the SUV.
While driving, Hardy dialed Zod's cellphone number, but the call went straight to voicemail.
He's playing chess…
His cellphone rang, and it was Dr. Hamilton, sounding a little agitated…
"The visitors have sent a ship down," he announced. "Looks like it's heading for Metropolis. I think they've seen our refugees…"
"Oh…crap…" Hardy opened his window, set a bubble light on the roof of the SUV. Now, with the light whirling and flashing, he floored the accelerator…
Finally, he reached the car lot just off the park. Zod and Andrew St. Claire were visible, sitting at a table, totally engrossed in their game.
Hardy was about to get out of the car. Then he noticed the figure standing right in front of him. Male…huge, and wearing the freakiest set of body armor he had ever seen…
Zod watched as Andrew St. Claire stared at the board, brow furrowed. Finally, the Human sighed, and tipped his King over in surrender.
"The Student has become the Master," he held out his hand, and gripped Zod's hand. There was a pretty fair measure of pride in St. Claire's eyes.
"Thank you," Zod stood, adjusted those damned itchy nasal cannulas. "One more coffee?"
"Certainly," St. Claire stood, and the two men cleaned up the chess kit before turning back towards the Koffee Klatch.
Something flickered on the edge of Zod's vision, and he moved instinctively, hauling St. Claire out of the way.
A SUV flew through the air, landing, upside down, just a few feet away from Zod. Everyone in the park, Andrew St. Claire included, scattered like frightened sheep. It occurred to Zod that maybe he should run too. But he knew that SUV, and who generally drove it…
The driver-side window was open and he bent to look inside…
"Nathan?"
"I'm okay, Zod. Gimme a sec…"
A battered-looking Colonel Hardy hauled himself out through the open window, barking orders on his cellphone.
"We have a situation at the Grande Bourse, in front of the Koffee Klatch. Send a full armored detail ASAP!
He reeled a little as he spoke, and Zod grabbed him by the shoulder to steady him. Blood was dripping from the Colonel's nose and from a nasty gash to the right temple.
"We have to get you out of here, Zod," he explained. "Kryptonians have arrived, and Jor El thinks they're here for you guys. We've gotta go now."
"It might be too late for that…" Now, Zod saw the figure slowly approaching them.
Kryptonian Front Line Fighter. Not too big on brains. But, then, they don't have to be…
Front Line Fighters were the shock troops of the Kryptonian military.
Give one of those an order, and he'll chew right through everything until he has completed his mission…
"Run, Nathan!"
"Not without you, I'm not!"
Zod felt Hardy grab his arm. But the Front Line Fighter got there first.
In Terran terms, it would've felt a lot like getting hit by a semi…
Stars exploded inside Zod's skull, and now, suddenly, he was lying on hard cement…
I was standing on grass just a minute ago…
Colonel Hardy hauled himself roughly upright. The world was wobbling, and his vision kept on threatening to gray out. But he had other concerns…
Zod?
There!
Judging by the dent in the white minivan, Zod had been hurled directly into it. Now, he lay face down, like a dead thing, on the sidewalk, and, at this distance, he couldn't even tell if the man was breathing.
That armored…thing…was calmly walking up to where Zod lay.
"Hey!" Hardy staggered forward, gun drawn. He fired several rounds into the creature; may as well have been blanks for all the good it did.
The figure hefted the dented white minivan in one huge hand.
"Oh…shit…" Hardy barely managed to roll out of the way in time. As he moved, the creature walked up to Zod, hauled the unconscious man over its shoulder. Then…
He jumped…
He jumped and flew straight up into the air, and was gone from sight.
With Zod…
Hardy's legs gave out from under him, and he slid onto his arse with a thud.
Sirens were wailing in the distance, getting closer.
Too late now…
Then, Jor El was running up to him, Emil Hamilton right behind.
Shit…shit…shit…
"Where's Zod," Jor El was looking around.
Hardy closed his eyes, opened them again.
"I'm sorry, Jor," he truly hated having to be the bearer of bad news; but this, especially sucked…
"There was nothing I could do to stop that guy," he continued. "Bullets didn't even slow him down. What the hell was he anyway?"
"A Front Line Fighter." Jor El said. "There's very little in your armory, short of heavy missile bombardment, that could stop one of those."
Hardy struggled to his feet.
"We'll get him back," he tried to reassure the Kryptonian.
"If they don't kill him first," Jor El looked skyward, anguish in his eyes.
Head pounding…throbbing…
Everything was heavier now, gravity pressing him into the floor, pressing upon his chest and back. Zod huddled in upon himself, and it was all he could do merely to breathe…
Presently, he became aware that several people stood over him, conversing in muted whispers,
"That's the great General Zod?" a voice spoke over him, sneering in disdain.
"Yes," another voice. "That's the traitor."
The sound of a door sliding open, more booted feet entering.
"Has he awakened yet?"
Zod knew that voice. Den Tyr, a competent enough military administrator, but, like Jax Ur, a morally bankrupt soul.
These are Krypton's leaders now…
A booted foot nudged him, none too gently.
"You're awake Zod," Tyr's voice was heavy, full of contempt. "Get him on his feet."
Strong hands hauled Zod to his feet, and his legs buckled under the heavy gravity and air.
"What happened to you, Zod?" Tyr spoke in disgust. "Look at you…"
Zod only shook his head.
"If you're going to kill me,' he grated. "Do it and get it over with."
"Not yet," Tyr was smiling. "Jor El, and the women, are still at large. You will be the bargaining chip that will bring the others in. Once we have them all, then, you will be allowed to die."
Tyr turned, began to walk away.
"Leave him here," he spoke without turning; and the others dropped Zod, letting him fall to the floor.
He lay there, alone. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to live.
Don't come to save me, Jor El. Save yourself and the others. Let me die here…
