Clark stared up at the blood-soaked moon lingering directly above the modest campsite they'd scraped together within a rocky crag. Across the reflecting red water of a bay, sat the gleaming city of Almaaria. And floating above it, was the crude mother ship of the unknown invaders. Clark leaned against the entrance of the cavern, his face struck with worry. Still he contended with red-sun induced weakness radiating through his body.
"It's been fourteen hours…" he spoke aloud, eyes still locked upon the dark, crimson sky. "Where is the sun?"
Maxima laughed, stepping up out of the cave, away from the fire she and Diana had set. She approached the Man of Steel and slapped her hand down upon his shoulder. She felt him recoil from the impact, a clear sign of his power having fled from his body. "I thought you'd have visited enough alien worlds to realize this, Kal-El. That not all planet's rotations are alike. Almerac happens to spin twice as slow as Earth. It's also larger. Making our nights a little more than double your own."
Clark looked down and sighed before crossing his arms across his broad chest. "I thought as much. Just didn't want to believe it…" he said before turning and entering back into the small cavern. He soon came to Diana, who was sitting by the campfire, her broken leg in a makeshift cast consisting of tree branches and scrap metal debris from the Invisible Jet. Diana leaned over and prodded the fire with a stick, keeping the flames from dissipating. She looked up at Clark, who was staring into the flames, deep in thought.
"I don't like the look on your face, Kal," she spoke, raising her brow while folding her arms back up at him. "Don't tell me-"
"We've wasted enough time as is," he interrupted. "We need to get a signal out to the Watchtower as soon as possible. Inform them of the situation. Not to mention get some intel on what exactly is going on here."
"There's a signal tower at the Almaaria spaceport located on the outskirts of the city," Maxima informed, joining Clark and Diana around the fire. "It's capable of sending instantaneous light-speed radio waves to any system."
"Excellent, that's just what we'll need," Clark said with stern determination, balling his fist into his palm.
"Surely you'll wait until sunrise, no?" Diana asked, still concerned for Clark in his current predicament.
"No time," Clark said. "Besides…" He looked down at his hands, feeling what little remained of his power. "Once Almerac's yellow sun returns to the sky, it will still take a while for me to absorb all the light I need. And by then, the blood moon will have risen once more… That being said, I'm not power-less."
"Neither am I," Diana said, struggling to her feet, using a tree branch as a crutch to maintain her balance. "I'll be coming with you."
Clark sighed, looking to his side as he searched for his words. Meanwhile, with a devilish smirk on her face, Maxima proudly stepped forth.
"Take a seat, Princess," she said. Unlike Clark, she needed no time at all to present her feelings on the matter. "I won't have a cripple joining me into enemy territory."
Diana scowled at the alien queen, though in the back of her mind, she knew she was right. Still, given last month's events, Diana did not want to keep Clark out of her sight, let alone leave him with Maxima of all people.
"She's right, Diana," Clark said with reluctance. "We'll return as soon as we can. You should be safe here. And if you spot an enemy patrol, hide. Do not engage. You're in no shape to fight."
"And you are?" Diana rebutted, though in sinking back into her seat beside the fire, she'd all but conceded the argument.
"I'm hoping there won't be a fight," Clark said, turning to Maxima who shot him a frown in return. "At least not yet." Maxima's frown shifted to a glower, turning away from Clark to cross her arms and roll her eyes.
Diana sighed, continuing to prod the campfire. "Very well…" she spoke. "May the gods be with you."
Before they left the campsite, both Clark and Maxima concealed their colorful uniforms under ragged cloaks they'd scavenged from an abandoned farmstead. Then, they followed the coastline of the glistening bay, towards the outskirts of Almaaria.
"Well, it's no suit and pair of glasses, but I suppose this'll do," Clark said, lifting up the edges of the patched-up and dusty cloak.
"It's disgraceful is what it is," Maxima replied, disgusted by the rags she wore. "A queen's return to her planet should be accompanied by triumphal marches through the capital and festival games held everyday throughout the following months. Instead, I trudge through the shadows of my own city like a rat."
Before long, they'd reached a small ridge which overlooked a wide concrete plain, lined with Almeracian battlecruisers, commercial ships, and personal shuttles. Notably, none of the ships in the docking bay resembled the ones that were currently encircling Almerac's skies. Whoever the invaders were, they didn't have the Almercian taste of sleek, classical design. Most of the ships sported gold and marble trims, accompanied by entire hulls of shimmering silver. They were a far cry from the brutish, ebon-gray ships that hovered above.
"There," Maxima said, pointing to the signal tower on the far side of the spaceport, which was part of a larger port-complex of connecting buildings and jet bridges. Clark tried to get a better look, squinting as hard as he could at the building that was just a mile or so away. Alas, his telescopic vision failed him as he was only able to come up with an overly-blurry, enhanced image of the tower.
"Alright," he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head, returning his vision to normal. "Let's move in."
Still under the cover of night, aside from the red glare of the moon, Clark and Maxima slipped down from the ridge and darted across the docking bay towards the spaceport complex. Reaching the far side of the building, they held their backs up against the wall upon hearing noises emanating from the base of the signal tower. Peaking their heads around the corner, they spotted a pair of guards on patrol, making their rounds about the spaceport premises. The guards however, were not Almeracian. They were towering, cybernetic brutes with manes of mangled fur and wire. They had four arms each, two holding a long rifle, while the others at their sides were ready to pull a blade or pistol from their hips. Their faces were ghoulish, with jagged teeth, more resembling tusks and sunken eyes trapped in a perpetual scowl.
"Impossible…" Maxima muttered. "It can't be… No, no it must be them."
"So you do know them? Huh?" Clark asked.
"I'd know their ugly faces anywhere," she sneered, though her stern, angered face was soon cast over with distress. "Though their bodies… that metal, they're, they're-"
"Cyborgs, by the looks of it," Clark said, rather unsurprised. "Common for most Type II, interplanetary civilizations. They're far from the first I've come across."
"I know what a cyborg is, Kal-El," Maxima said. "It's who they are, not what they are that baffles me."
"Well, who are they?" Clark asked.
"The Krenans," Maxima explained. "Native to the planet Kreno in a neighboring star system. Not more than fifty years ago my father led an expedition there in the name of conquest. Yet, when we arrived, we found nothing but a barren wasteland and worse yet, the underdeveloped barbarians who lived there. Four-armed, naked brutes who fought with sticks and rocks over which anthill to piss on."
Clark raised his brow concerning the last insensitive remark, but remained quiet as to allow her to carry on with her 'cultural analysis.'
"They were generations away from the wheel, let alone interstellar travel," she continued. "In terms of resources, the planet itself didn't have much to provide. And the Krenans themselves were too unwieldy to subjucate into slave labor. So, we abandoned the colonization efforts and sought out more profitable endeavors. Preferably ones that didn't involve shit-eating cavemen."
"Remarkable…" Clark said, pondering the information as he examined the cybernetic warriors from afar. "So they've gone from neanderthal to spaceborne-supersoldier in little more than a generation."
"It shouldn't be possible," Maxima said through gritted teeth, slamming her fist into the concrete wall.
"Unless they had help," Clark concluded. They each turned to each other in a moment of quiet contemplation before Clark broke the silence. "No matter, that's besides the point. We'll get to the bottom of this later. For now, let's get to that tower."
Maxima, wanting to discuss further due to her utter bewilderment, stayed herself and followed in a crouch behind Clark as they approached the tower. While hugging another corner, they allowed for the guards to continue their patrol before moving in. As soon as the brutish cyborgs left the entrance area of the tower, Clark and Maxima came up to the unguarded metal doors, though quickly they found them to be locked. Clark ran his hand along the control panel to the right of the doors and tried to use his x-ray vision. The quick glimpses he got of the panel's circuitry through his flickering x-ray sight was enough for him to locate the particular wire that would disable the locking mechanism. He then took a step back and changed from x-ray vision to heat vision, only needing a bit of his weakened heat to fry the locking wire. Once the circuit broke, the metal doors slid right open and Clark and Maxima slipped inside.
Closing the doors behind them, they entered into the dimly lit base-level of the control tower. It was completely vacant, with loose chairs and papers scattered about. It looked as if whoever was stationed there left in a hurry. Clark paused, kneeling to the floor to investigate a charred red smear that stained the gray tiling. He pressed his fingers to the substance, confirming it to be blood. He stood back up, and without commenting, moved forth to the service stairwell with increased haste, a look of contained aggravation across his face. Maxima, even with her powers still intact, struggled to keep up with him as he bolted up the stairs.
At the top of the flight of stairs, Clark again used his flickering x-ray vision to confirm that the control room was vacant as well. Knowing this, he barged in and rushed to the bridge controls which were situated beneath a wide plate-glass window that overlooked the spaceports' entire airfield. Growing frustrated with the alien controls, Maxima happily stepped in.
"Allow me," she said with a smirk, moving Clark to the side as she punched in the Sol System coordinates and prepared to send a recorded signal. Lastly, with the flip of a lever, a microphone dropped down from the ceiling in front of Clark who was taken aback. "There, ready for a transmission to Earth. Go for it, radio-man."
Without hesitation, Clark grabbed hold of the microphone, the moving sound waves across the control panel indicating its operationality. He then cleared his throat, and began. "Attention JLA, this is Superman in need of backup. I repeat, this is Superman in need of immediate back up. Wonder Woman and I are stranded on the planet Almerac which has since been invaded by an unknown force. The invaders are hostile and will attack on sight. I repeat, the invaders are hostile. We require a rescue squad only, lest we risk further interplanetary conflict."
"What?!" Maxima interrupted, grabbing the microphone out of Clark's hand. "This is Maxima speaking, Queen of all Almerac. And if you ever want to see the Man of Steel alive again, I suggest you send an army of your strongest warriors to help take back what was stolen from me!"
"What are you doing?!" Clark berated. He tried to pry the microphone back out of Maxima's hands, but between their two grips, the device ripped in two, ending the transmission.
"Augh! Now look at what you've done!" Maxima snapped as the pieces of the mic sparked and sizzled at their feat.
"What I've done?" Clark said. "What were you thinking sending a message like that? Who knows what J'onn will send us now."
"Pfft, if it even worked," Maxima said, crossing her arms and turning her head to the side in disgust.
It was then Clark paused, the faint remains of his super-hearing picking up on commotion emanating from downstairs, and soon, just outside the room. His eyes widened, before he moved to tackle Maxima to the floor.
"Get down!" he cried as the door to the control room blew open and a barrage of laser-fire followed. The entire room went up in thick smoke and flashing sparks. Coughing, both Clark and Maxima managed to lift themselves back up to their feet. And, when the smoke began to settle, they found themselves surrounded by a squadron of six Krenan soldiers. Their tusked mouths drooled as they chuckled amongst themselves, all of them pointing their arm-mounted laser cannons towards the duo. With nowhere to run, Clark raised his arms up in surrender, but Maxima knew better, she drew her sword and assumed a ready stance. Then, as Clark placed his hands above his head, he felt a warmth begin to graze his fingers and neck. He tilted his head back and saw that, upon the glistening ocean horizon, the yellow sun was beginning to rise. He smirked, putting his hands back down to his side.
One of the Krenan soldiers took this as an offense and fired a laser bolt directly at Clark's chest from point-blank range. Clark stumbled back, using the busted control panel as support. He then lifted himself back up, still with a smile on his face. He brushed the soot off his chest and walked up to the soldier. The Krenan's hoarse chuckle ceased, turning into a worried gulp before Clark's swift fist came flying into his gut from below. The cyborg was flung backwards in a spiral before smashing right through the back wall and out of the tower. Maxima laughed aloud before rushing up to the closest Krenan and, while he was stunned, sliced his head clean off. An eruption of black blood and sparks flew from his severed neck before his heavy body slumped to the ground with a thump.
Both Clark and Maxima continued to engage with the Krenans, taking them out one-by-one, but more continued to pile on. Soon the entire control room was full of them and Clark and Maxima were pushed back to the window. With nowhere else to run, Clark smashed open the window and took Maxima under his arm. With a wave of laser fire behind them, Clark leapt forth from the top of the control tower and set his sights to the sky. However, he soon felt his body failing to catch the air beneath his feet.
"Kal-El!" Maxima cried, seeing them lose altitude.
"The sun-" Clark said with a grunt. "Hasn't been long enough…"
Before long, they plummeted back down to the spaceport, both Clark and Maxima landing ungracefully on the cement of the airfield. The march of Krenan soldiers soon thundered around them and they were surrounded within seconds, too many to fight. Then, a shadow fell over them as well. Clark looked up, the sun now blocked by the massive Krenan mothership. He gritted his teeth in anger, wanting to curse the skies as the ship that hovered there seemed to stare down at them, relishing in its victory.
To their surprise, Clark and Maxima were not killed on sight, instead, they were bound with power-dampening cuffs and taken prisoner to the High Palace of Almerac. However, it was not before they were pariaded publicly through the city on their way there. Krenans and subjected Almeracians alike watched the former queen and the famous Superman shuffle barefooted up the marble streets of Almaaria. They were prodded with electro-spears each time they faltered in their pace, and sometimes they were shocked for no reason at all besides the Krenans' sick pleasure.
Eventually, after trekking up the many steps of the royal Almaracian palace, they were forced to their knees before the throne of the invader-king. There, in the seat that was once Maxima's and all her ancestors' sat the Prince De'cine, Emperor of Kreno's newly established interplanetary dominion. He was the most brutish of all the Krenans, with more raw Krenan muscle and cybernetic enhancements than all the rest. Upon his lap sat the once loyal handmaiden of Queen Maxima, Sazu. The Almeracian girl smiled widely, seeing her former master on her knees before her. To add insult to injury, she was even wearing one of Maxima's old ceremonial dresses. Sazu wasn't the only traitor, among the royal court remained about half of Almerac's once-revered High Council.
Maxima glared at the traitors before hucking a lob of spit down at the feet of De'cine. "The gall… The lot of you… You don't deserve to be considered Almeracian! Let alone members of her High Council!" Her beration slowly escalated in anger. "I swear upon the blood moon above, I will have each of your heads!... and you…" She turned directly to Sazu. "I'll have you hung from the gates of-"
"Enough!" De'cine bellowed. "That's the queen, my wife, you choose to insult." Sazu snicked, holding tightly to one of the four bulky arms of her husband. "It's only by her grace and the will of our lord, Cerebrus, that you two remain with hearts in your chests…"
"Cerebrus…" Clark whispered beneath his breath.
"Face it, Maxima! You were never fit to rule our great nation," Sazu added. "Always chasing after your precious man-thing." She scoffed at Clark, who hardly took offense.
Maxima, on the other hand, boiled over in anger. "Look who's talking! Whoring yourself out to this, this troglodyte!"
"I've heard enough," De'cine spoke. "Ultraa, get these prisoners out of my sight. Besides, we must begin preparation for the Ascension… "
"Right away, your highness," a Almeracian High Council member broke from the crowd with Krenan guards by his side. He was tall and handsome, like most Almeracians, donning golden and purple armor with a flowing crimson cape. And he was young, for a member of the High Council which was made up primarily of elders.
Maxima's face darkened as the Almeracian man took her by the arm and forced her back to her feet. The Krenan guards likewise grabbed Clark and soon they were on their way down to the palace's dungeons.
"Ultraa…" she murmured through gritted teeth as she struggled against his grip. "How could you betray your own kind?"
"I could ask the same of you, Maxima," Ultraa said, keeping his eyes forward as he continued to drag her deeper into the palace towards a hall of cells beneath the keep.
"Could you now? Ha!" Maxima laughed. "No one is more loyal to her people than I! I'm your queen for Almaara's sake! My very viens run ripe with the blood of the ancients, the warriors of legend live in me!"
"I wish you'd thought of that before abandoning us time and time again to pursue…" he paused, glancing over to Clark who was locked in the iron grip of the two Krenan guards. "...what did he have… that I didn't?"
A silence fell over the group as Ultraa and the guards shoved Maxima and Clark into their respective dungeon cells. The bars of which were made of intense laser strips made to slice through anything that may try to get in or out.
"Ultraa…" Maxima called out to him after he turned his back. "My betrothed…" He tilted his head down and paused. "Why?" she asked again.
"After the Ascension, De'cine will leave for another system. Likely Earth," Ultraa explained. "In his stead, I will rise to the throne of Almerac and become its provincial governor within the Krenan Empire. Then, at long last, I shall take the seat that was promised to me by your father."
Another silence fell.
"You want to know why I couldn't take you as a husband, Ultraa?" Maxima spoke, breaking the silence. "You're a pathetic little man with dreams of playing king… But you'll never be a king. You'll merely be the puppet of a tyrant."
Ultraa stood with his back to Maxima for a moment before continuing out of the dungeon without a word.
"A warning for you, Ultraa! And all those who oppose me!" Maxima called to him. "I am Queen Maxima of Almerac and I will have my vengeance! And all who've unrightfully sat on my throne, will find themselves kneeling before my blade! Heads will roll, Ultraa! Heads. Will. Roll!"