Chapter 4
From Iron Heights the transport had flown south, along the coast for no more than ten minutes before the steep climb in height, breaking through the clouds. By that time, the light through the windows had turned a warm gold with the sun's brightness above the cloud layer.
The construct before them was beautiful.
Kara had never seen anything like it. Twisting into the sky, a hand reaching out to the stars themselves, somehow natural despite its obviously human origins. Shinning white in the light of the sun, it was truly magnificent, the construct almost reminiscent of bone in its smoothness and organic visage. Beyond the smog and cloud of the city below, it was reminiscent of the tales of Olympus, the home of the Gods.
"They call it the Aerium," Lance provided, clearly sensing Kara's intrigue. "Guess they don't have this where you come from either, huh?"
As the cruiser continued the journey to the very top of the tower, Lance spoke again. "So, where you from? Home planet kinda thing?"
"Not here." Kara spoke lowly, still fascinated by the Aerium.
"That's pretty vague." Lance grumbled.
"You ask a lot of questions." Kara remarked evenly.
"You sound like my daughter," Lance scoffed. "She always said I could find a way to talk to anybody."
"Especially when they're trapped in a car with you." Kara snarked.
The transport sideslipped and banked, giving Kara a view of the Luthor estate, the topmost structure of the Aerium. It took up the entirety of the area, edging in from the furthest reach in neatly manufactured tones of green and gravel around a sprawling tile-roofed mansion big enough to house a small army. The walls were white, the roofing coral and the army, if there was one, was out of sight. Any security systems Luthor had installed were very low-key. As they moved lower, Kara made out the discreet haze of a power fence along one border of the grounds. Barely enough to distort the view from the house.
Nice.
Less than a dozen meters up over one of the immaculate lawns, Lance kicked in the landing brake with what seemed like unnecessary violence. The transport shuddered from end to end and they came down hard amidst flying clods of turf.
Kara shot Lance a reproachful look which he ignored. He threw open the hatch and climbed out. After a moment Kara joined him on the damaged lawn, prodding at the torn grass with the toe of one shoe.
"Really stuck that landing. You're not a driver, are you?"
"I said I worked security." Lance began, fixing a detectives shield to the belt of his suit pants. "I didn't say for who."
"So this hasn't been a conversation, it's been an interrogation."
"Last chance," Lance tried. "Just give me a name."
Kara gritted her teeth for a moment before answering. "Kara Zor-El. Look me up."
Stepping away from Lance, Kara moved towards the gravel path leading to the house. She had hardly made it ten paces before Lance was on her again.
"You can't be," He spoke sharply. "All the Legionnaires died."
"All except one."
The group of suits that had been moving towards them since the landing cam to a stop about ten meters away. There were three large men with automatic weapons slung over their shoulders. They had been standing under the eaves but had quickly made their way towards the transport the moment it touched down.
"Not another step, Lance." The one at the front spoke, aiming a handgun in the detective's direction.
"Oh, put your toy down, I'm SCPD and you know it, Corben." Lance spoke sharply, ignoring the threats and stepping around Kara to walk towards them. "So, put them down and tell me where your boss is because I really would like a fucking word."
A young woman appeared from the side of the house, tennis racket in hand, and moved across the lawn towards them. When she was no more than fifteen meters away, she stopped, tucked the tennis racket under one arm. From the slight widening of the eyes of one of the grunts, Kara guessed that they had called her on an internal mike.
Slick.
"Detective Lance."
She was beautiful in a sun, sea and sand sort of way and the sports shorts and leotard she was wearing displayed the fact to maximal effect. Raven hair brushed her shoulders as she moved and there had been a hint of milk white teeth when she spoke. She wore sweat bands at forehead and wrists and from the dew on her brow they were not for show. There was a finely toned muscle in her legs and a substantial bicep stood out when she lifted her arm. Moderate breasts strained the fabric of the leotard, and Kara wondered if the body was hers.
"You're trespassing on private property."
Lance didn't rise to the threatening tone in the young woman's voice. "Go and fetch mummy and daddy, Lena."
"Miss Luthor to you, detective."
As the woman – Lena – stepped closer, she turned her attention to Kara.
"Kara Zor-El?" Her pronunciation was perfect.
"That's me." Kara spoke neutrally, ignoring the way the young woman seemed to be sizing her up like a piece of meat.
"You were supposed to be met at the storage facility." It sounded like an accusation, Kara simply grinned.
"Well, I was."
"Not by the police." She turned back to Lance. "I assume it was you who arranged for our chauffeur to be pulled over on some trumped-up emissions charge."
"No, Miss Luthor, that would be Traffic Control," Lance said politely. "I have no jurisdiction in that division."
Lena sneered.
"Oh, I'm sure you haven't, detective. And I'm sure none of your friends work there either." The voice turned patronising. "My father will have him released before the sun goes down, you know."
Kara glanced sideways to see Lance's reaction, but there was none.
"You're not welcome here, detective." Lena spoke in a freezing voice.
"Yeah," Lance rolled his eyes. "Well, there's your new pet terrorist. Have a good evening, Miss Luthor." Lance started walking back towards the transport. "You're welcome."
"The terrorist can hear you," Kara remarked, arms crossed over her chest. "I'm standing right here."
Lance rounded on her. "Yeah, good. 'Cause we're not done, you and me."
Lance clapped her unexpectedly on the shoulder and headed back to the transport at an easy pace. Halfway there he suddenly stopped and turned back.
"Here. Almost forgot. You'll need these."
He dug in his breast pocket and tossed Kara a small packet. She caught it reflexively and looked down. Nicotine patches.
"Be seeing you."
He swung himself aboard the transport and slammed the hatch. Through the glass, Kara saw him looking at her. The transport lifted on full repulse, pulverising the ground beneath and ripping a furrow across the lawn as it swung west. Kara watched it out of sight.
"Charming." Lena spoke, mostly to herself.
"Miss Luthor?"
She swung around. The look on her face was one of intrigue and, if Kara wasn't mistaken, a little bit of attraction, though it was largely masked by a visage of annoyance.
"My father sent a car for you, Miss Zor-El. Why didn't you wait for it?"
"No one told me to wait for a car, I figured Lance there was my ride."
Lena bit her tongue in annoyance, easily visible to any observer and muttered something about incompetence and prisons. She stood still facing Kara, flushed with annoyance, breasts rising and falling distractingly. When they stick a body in the tank, it goes on producing hormones pretty much the way it would if one were asleep. Kara became abruptly aware that she was incredibly aroused and did her best to not make her discomfort obvious.
"You should have waited."
"Miss Luthor, if I'd waited, I'd still be there now. Can we go inside?"
Her eyes widened a little, and Kara suddenly saw in them how old she really was. Then she lowered her gaze and summoned composure. When she spoke again, her voice had softened.
"I'm sorry, Miss Zor-El. I've forgotten my manners. The police, as you can see, have not been sympathetic. But I am very sorry, I'm not usually like this. None of us are." She gestured around as if to say the two armed guards would have been bearing garlands of flowers. "Please accept my apologies."
"Of course."
"So," She began raising her hand. "I'm Lena Luthor." Kara took the offered hand it and shook it gently. "Welcome to Suntouch House."
XXX
The inside of the house was light and airy. A maid met them at the veranda and took Lena Luthor's tennis racket for her without a word. They went down a marbled hallway hung with art that, to Kara's untrained eye, looked old. Sketches of Gagarin and Armstrong, Empathist renderings of Erok-El and Shayera Hol. At the end of the gallery, set on a plinth, was something like a narrow tree made out of crumbling red stone, sprawling up and beyond the ceiling, and it's sprouts glowing an ethereal blue. Kara paused in front of it and Miss Luthor had to backtrack from the right turn she was making.
"That should be in a museum."
"I share my father's weakness for Elder Civilisation artefacts." Her face underwent a change that Kara caught in the corner of her eye. She was reassessing. Kara turned for a closer look at her face. "I collect them, among other things."
"Is it alive?" Kara asked breathlessly, taking a step towards the tree.
"No one knows, this is the only Songspire tree on Earth." There was a sudden enthusiasm in her tone that Kara liked her better for. "No one really knows what they are. They could have functioned as part of Elder Civilisation architecture. On Mars, they grew to be hundred of meters tall, sometimes as wide as this house at the root. You can hear them singing for kilometres. The perfume carries as well. From the erosion patterns, we think most of them are at least ten thousand years old. This one might have been around since the founding of the Roman Empire."
"I know," Kara whispered, hand reaching out to lightly stroke one of the blossoms of the tree. "I've seen them."
"Argo, of course." Lena answered tentatively.
"It must have cost a fortune to ship here."
"Money wasn't an object, Miss Zor-El." The mask was back in place.
They made double time down the right-hand corridor, perhaps to make up for the unscheduled diversion. With each step Miss Luthor's breasts jiggled under the thin material of the leotard and Kara took a morose interest in the art on the other side of the corridor. More Empathist work. Again, Shayera Hol with her slender hand resting on a thrusting phallus of a rocket.
Not much help.
The lounge in which Lionel Luthor resided was built on the end of the house's west wing. Miss Luthor led Kara right up to an unobtrusive wooden door and pressed it open for her, the sunlight bursting through the opening.
"Good luck, Miss Zor-El."
Kara lifted a hand to shade her eyes and stepped through the door. There was an upper level to the lounge, and the wall to her immediate left was comprised largely of glass panes. The floor was the same marble of the corridor, the walls has a similar theme but were mostly comprised of mahogany bookcases, unlike the office of the warden back at Iron Heights there was no layer of dust on Lionel Luthor's shelves. The sun was laying an even coat of orange light along their spines.
"Miss Zor-El." A deep voice suddenly spoke.
Kara turned slowly, giving no sign of the shock she had felt on the sudden call. On the upper balcony was Luthor, looking down at her. There was a book in his hand, folded closed over his fingers.
"I apologise my driver was unable to pick you up, the police have been very…intrusive in my affairs of late."
"That's alright," Kara began, keeping her eyes on the room around her, refusing to look up at Luthor. "The ride was very instructive."
"Hmm. Yes, I'm sure it was. Details are, after all, a Legionnaire's stock in trade. Or were, I should say. 'Immersion and total absorb'. Wasn't that the term? 'Whatever answer you may seek, it is precisely where you are not looking."
"You've read J'onzz."
"I was alive during the Uprising, yes."
"Yeah? So was I."