A DC elseworlds fanfic by Scriviner
insert standard disclaimer here, no profit, just fun.
The UNSV Constitution pulled free of Luna's weak gravity well and proceeded under standard power until it could reach a safe distance to activate its hyperdrive engine for the trip to Oa.
Captain John Stewart, of the Oan Diplomatic Corps, anticipated no problems... at least nothing beyond the usual insanities of having a ship full of diplomats from over a dozen worlds. No one was happy with their accomodations, but of course everyone, (being diplomats, after all), was too 'polite' and 'genteel' to actually complain outright. Instead, he'd have to put up with quiet sniping and muttered curses in a wide range of alien languages.
Except for the two in front of him. The Kryptonian Ambassador to Terra and the Terran Ambassador to Krypton. Both men had reputations for being mavericks and considering the importance of both their planets, keeping these two happy was a top priority.
John leaned back in his chair, which was originally designed to accomodate someone three times his weight and with an epidermis like granite, and wondered for the fifteenth time in as many minutes if he should finally give in and request a transfer to a First Contact team. It seemed less stressful.
"Captain Stewart, I understand that there's only so much space on this ship, but we're both begging you to move us to other accomodations. We've endured it since Mars, and would prefer not having to endure it any longer." The human spoke politely, but forcefully. He stood with his arms folded and an expression of distaste on his face. Interestingly enough, he was dressed in a traditional Kryptonian bodysuit with a familial mantle flowing down from where it draped across his shoulders. John noted to himself that the mantle was a dark blue, a mourning color, and the broken band of curliculed gold down left side identified him as Bruce Wayne and named his forbearers back for at least twenty generations. Twenty human generations.
Standing next to him, the Kryptonian nodded agreement and added in a soft voice, "Our Vuldarian colleague tends to be a trifle... ah... loud... in the evenings." He paused for a moment as though considering his statement, then added, "Actually, pretty much all of the time, actually." As strange as a human dressed up as a Kryptonian was, a Kryptonian wearing a suit and tie was even stranger. The suit was a tasteful dark green, which in Kryptonian terms would have identified him as being a member of the Scientific Caste of Krypton. The tie was red, held in place by a rectangular tie-pin that appeared to be his only concession to his Kryptonian heritage, the embedded curlicules proclaiming him to be a member of the House of El. An ID badge he had clipped to his chest said in an oddly cheerful Interlac script: "Greetings, I am Kal El."
John sighed. "You could just ask him to keep it down."
Kal looked faintly amused and was about to speak, but his companion cut him off quickly. "We considered it, but as he had company, we did not wish to intrude."
"He was obviously doing a good job of fostering close interplanetary relations," Kal added with a small smile.
"A Kryptonian making a joke... Now I have seen everything." John muttered mostly to himself, but it didn't escape the notice of his two passengers. He caught himself and tugged down his green uniform tunic before either could react and spoke briskly, "I'm afraid, I really don't have anywhere to reassign you gentlemen to, however, I'll speak to Mr. Gardener about keeping his nocturnal activities to a less wall shaking level."
Having to ask a quarter ton of hair-trigger killing machine to reign his hormones in seemed simple enough. He'd have to assign an Ensign to it first though. Probably one of the Czarnians. At least they could regenerate in case Mr. Gardener was displeased. He gave the two his best Captain smile and prepared to usher them out when his ring gave a beep.
"Captain, come quick!" The frantic bass rumble on the other end told him it was his normally unflappable Master-At-Arms, "Something's happened."
"Lieutenant Killowog, can't this wait? I'm still in the middle of a mee--"
The voice from his ring continued hurriedly, "We think the Martian Ambassador is dead, sir! And the Vuldarian Ambassador's comatose!"
John clenched his fist and looked up at the surprised diplomats. It looked like it was going to be one of those trips... "Where are you Lieutenant?"
"I'm in Mr. Gardner's quarters."
"Alright. I'm on my way." John proceeded to the door, brushing past the two diplomats.
"Captain, I'd like to offer my assistance--" Bruce Wayne spoke as Stewart reached the door.
"I likewise would like to extend--" Kal El broke in.
"Ambassadors, with all due respect, that's hardly necessary. Seeing as how the event occured in the quarters right between yours, I see no problem in allowing you both to accompany me down to that deck, but my staff is quite capable of--"
Wayne inclined his head and crossed his arms once more. "Captain, with all due respect to your staff and Dr. Salakk, in particular, but I am a medical doctor and the only xenobiologist you have on board who's had experience with both Vuldarian and Martian physiologies."
John looked thoughtfully at the man in the Kryptonian garb, "I suppose it couldn't hurt." He sighed.
Wayne gestured to Kal and added, "And Kal El has the senses that his race normally possesses outside of their own atmosphere. He would be invaluable in locating any clues. I doubt this vessel comes with a fully equipped forensics laboratory. I could use him as a substitute should this investigation require one."
"I just know I'm going to get into trouble for even considering this. You gentlemen are drafted to assist the investigation, but I expect you to keep anything you find out to yourselves." John shook his head ruefully. "That includes not letting your own governments know about any of this until we're done."
"Absolutely, Captain." Kal nodded, then frowned and elbowed Wayne who finally murmurred something that might have been acceptance.
With that Captain Stewart slapped the pad next to the door and allowed it to slide open.
Wayne knelt next to the green skinned body of what appeared to be the Martian Ambassador. He'd met J'onn J'onzz a few times at various embassy functions over the years, but the sight of his old friend's tapering head deformed from it's usual sweeping conical shape was disturbing.
His gaze swept the room slowly, taking in every detail. The ridiculously tall Lieutenant Kilowog, a member of the Bolovax race, had situated himself at the door, his arms crossed and watching Wayne's every move. It was unusual to find one in space as the members of their race tended to prefer the comfort of being joined in their communal mass mind.
The Captain was right outside the open door, directing the security officers in their green coats to keep the other diplomats away from the area. Wayne idly noted that he was also speaking to Ensign Rayner, the human entertainment coordinator/diplomatic relations officer for the ship.
Standing near them, one hand in his pocket, was Kal El. The Kryptonian had put his green-tinted shades back on and was making a few adjustments to hidden controls in the frames. It was true that Kryptonians had much finer senses than most other races did once off their home world. Their hearing was both accute and accurate, and could hear sounds much higher and lower than the average human could. Their eyes were the same, able to see microscopic objects and discern almost the entire electromagnetic spectrum. The problem was it took years to acquire the skill needed to make it truly useful. The few Kryptonians who did travel off Krypton wore lenses to block out everything but visible light and had hidden noise reduction electronics under their cowls. Kal El, an atypical specimen of Kryptonian if there ever was one, actually seemed to enjoy the enhanced perceptions, but usually wore a pair of glasses that could selectively block out various wavelengths as needed, just to avoid embarassing himself by walking into walls he couldn't see. Kal appeared to be scrolling through the entire spectrum as he swept the room.
The room itself was much like Wayne's own, and much like every other diplomat's quarters on board. A metal box with the absolute minimum sythetic wall covering to muffle sound and keep people from having to stare at bare metal. There was a bed, next to which was a writing desk that doubled as a night stand and a few seats near a door leading to the lavatory facilities. The floor had a plain carpet on which were strewn various clothes and scraps of clothes.
On the bed, surrounded by torn and toussled sheets was the massive form of Guy Gardener, the Vuldarian Ambassador. He had the usual bulky, muscular humanoid figure for one of his race, as well as the characteristic red and blue markings on his skin that resembled tattoos. Those usually indicated lineage and the patterning on his body and face showed him to have been a born of the 'cultivator' caste. Or a more accurate translation would have been 'speaker to food', a crude reminder of the days when their carnivorous race still fed on other sentient species. His shock of red hair was all but plastered to his head by sweat. His eyes had rolled up and were only showing whites, and his mouth hung slack. His heartbeats and breathing were regular, he was simply completely unresponsive to stimuli. No pupilary action, not even the standard Vuldarian reflexive thickening of the skin when touched.
On the floor next to the bed was the sprawled form of J'onn. Wayne lightly touched the highly maleable green flesh, leaving small indentations where he'd pressed his fingers. Living martians, even ones in comas, reflexively returned to their base forms when their shape was altered externally. There were no obvious injuries, aside from the deflated shape of the head. Martians could easily survive worse, and yet this one was unquestionably dead.
"Kal El? Do you see anything unusual?"
"Honestly, Bruce, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be looking for. Nothing too out of the ordinary, I guess." Kal El had an uncertain expression on his face as he squinted at the Martian corpse. "Although... I can't see any organs. Is that normal?"
Wayne gave a grunt and rose to his feet. "Sometimes. Martians have complete control over their bodies... they can alter their cells to remove any differentiation and diffuse their organ functions throughout their bodies. They tend to do so when injured as a defensive reflex. The way a human would pull his hand out of a fire, or a Kryptonian would shut his mind to a telepathic assault. Distributing his intelligence throughout his body to better survive being attacked, would be the equivalent Martian reaction."
"So I'm guessing a head wound like that shouldn't be enough to kill him."
"Yes. I've seen a Martian hacked into a dozen pieces during a lunchtime assassination attempt and be well enough to attend dinner. You could decapitate one and only succeed in annoying him." Wayne frowned slightly as he knelt down once more, and focused his gaze at the wetness at the smooth junction between the Martian's legs.
Kal El followed Wayne's gaze and blushed slightly, "That liquid is biological..."
"Semen. The color is completely wrong for it to be Martian. It's Vuldarian semen." Wayne replied gruffly, glancing over at the bed.
The Kryptonian blushed. Even several years of living on Earth hadn't entirely freed him of the usual Kryptonian aversion to most biological processes. Especially not sex. "I thought Ambassador J'onzz was male."
"Martians are hermpaphroditic shapechangers. They can assume either gender as necessary, but most of them retain their gender choice after reaching their age of majority. It's quite unusual for one to change preference so late in life."
Kal El glanced over to the bed, "From what I remember of Mr. Gardener, he's quite... rabidly heterosexual... And Vuldarians as a rule prefer their own species. I find it hard to believe that he's been having J'onzz in his quarters all this time."
Wayne nodded. "Yes, I agree, but the evidence does rather clearly indicate that they were performing that precise activity."
"You don't suppose Mr. Gardener found out just now and the shock made him go into a coma?"
Wayne shot Kal El a glare. "Now is not the time to faceticious. Besides, even if that were the case, who and what killed J'onzz?"
Captain Stewart stepped into the room and approached Wayne. "Well, Dr. Salakk has confirmed that it's not viral or bacterial contamination, otherwise the scanners would've picked it up by now. Have you gentlemen found out anything?"
Kal El slipped his hands into his pockets once more. "Other than finding out that Mr. Gardener and Ambassador J'onzz may have been conducting inter-species mating? I think I can understand why you insisted on our silence in this investigation."
John rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, "The Vuldarians would be appalled at the mere thought. They're supposed to have aides of the opposite gender with them for all extended diplomatic functions like this to... attend to those needs. Vuldarians tend not to form casual sexual liasons. I assumed he was supposed to be sleeping with his aide."
"The evidence suggests not, Captain." Wayne pointed out, "Although none of the scattered clothing here has anything tailored for a Martian physique. The tops have no allowances for back spikes." He bent down and picked up a bra, dangling it from a gloved finger. "And this looks to be more suited to someone... mammalian. Martians in their natural female forms don't have breasts."
"I sincerely hope you're not suggesting we round up every female on the ship who might possibly wear something in that size." John asked.
Wayne almost grinned. "Well, it is impressive. It would certainly narrow the list of suspects."
"They aren't even suspects yet, Bruce." Kal replied somewhat stiffly.
"It is possible that J'onzz was shape shifted into a form resembling someone who Gardener would be willing to have sexual relations with." Wayne indicated the bra, "And could fit into this."
"Gardener struck me as the sort who would be interested in having sexual relations with anyone who could fill that." Kal El coughed. "That still doesn't answer why J'onzz would sleep with him."
"Ambassadors, I'm afraid, I'm going to have to leave this to you for now." John said, "I have a dozen diplomats all demanding explanations and they all expect me to be the one to answer to them. If you need any further help, Liuetenant Kilowog is in charge of this investigation."
"Thank you, Captain." Wayne bowed, before turning to examine the Vuldarian body on the bed once more.
Captain Stewart strode out, Ensign Rayner following him closely, reading messages to him off of a datapad. Kal El approached Kilowog and asked, "Do you have any ideas Lieutenant?"
The Bolovax looked down at the much shorter Kryptonian and shrugged, "Yer askin' me now, Ambassador?"
"Your input would be much appreciated."
"Only one reason I could think of why any poozer who ain't Vuldarian'd wanna sleep with one. They got some sorta deathwish--"
"I beg your pardon?" Kal El asked.
"Sure. Your average Vuldarian's strong enough to rip steel apart with his bare hands, right? That's not even thinkin' about the fact that they can change their limbs into weapons and that hair trigger temper. Anyone wantin to sleep with THAT's gotta be nuts or strong enough to take a little rough trade, if'n you know what I mean Ambassador." The large Bolovax winked elaborately at Kal El.
Kal El smiled back weakly. "I suppose I do, Lieutenant.
Wayne looked up from where he was examining Gardener and addressed them both. "There is a reason Vuldarians have aides with them on long voyages. A strong sex drive is a powerful survival factor on their world, but when they're with other species, it can be a disadvantage, especially if one is strong enough to tear a less durable partner in half."
"But J'onzz obviously wasn't killed in that way." Kal El replied.
Kilowogg nodded. "Only other reason I could think of would be cause someone wanted him vulnerable and distracted by sex so they could do him in. 'Cept these poozers are tough. You'd need some sorta high powered particle cannon to get through that hide of theirs. Worse, they regenerate, so you better make sure you killed 'im in one shot, otherwise, you'd just tick him off."
Kal El stroked his chin, glancing back at the corpse. "Unless they wanted him distracted for some other reason."
"Whut? Like a telepathic probe?" Kilowogg laughed. "You kiddin'? These guys have some of the worst mental defenses in the quadrant, but it doesn't do anyone any good. Their brains are a mess. Most telepaths who try just end up with headaches."
"Although Gardener's coma could've been caused by a telepathic attack." Wayne spoke thoughtfully.
"Martians are telepaths." Kal El snapped his fingers, "J'onzz was supposed to be quite gifted in that area, right?"
"Yes, but he was an ethical telepath. He wouldn't have violated someone's mind like that." Wayne countered.
"Well, he would not have gone to bed with a Vuldarian either, and yet here he is." Kal El shrugged.
"Exactly. His presence here makes no sense. If he had wished to strike at Gardener's mind telepathically, he could have done so just as easily from the other end of the ship. If the intent was to read his mind, proximity would make no difference. As the Lieutenant stated, their minds are too confusing to most telepaths. You've heard of the Vuldarian racial memory, Kal El?"
"Yes... it's part of what makes them so dangerous. They remember everything their parents knew at the time of conception. Including any learned skills. That runs back several generations, if I recall."
"Precisely." Wayne began to pace as much as the scattered clothes and limitted space would allow. "Your average Vuldarian child only begins to access the racial memory pool at adolesence. That access and all those additional memories tend to confuse most telepaths making it difficult, if not impossible, for someone to read a Vuldarian's mind." Wanye paused thoughtfully and glanced at J'onzz body once more. He continued, speaking more slowly. "Once a Vuldarian has the racial memories, their bodies also begin encoding their own experiences as DNA into specific organelles inside cells in the Vuldarian's gonads."
Kal El quickly realized what Wayne was driving at. "You mean... you think someone might've figured out how to interpret Vuldarian memories from their semen?"
Kilowogg pulled a face. "That's... that's just sick."
"It would take a quite a bit of knowledge in microbiology, but it does give us a reason for why J'onzz would be in here and having relations with Gardener." Wayne replied. "A martian body would make an ideal storage container for the material."
"Don't you think this is a bit of a stretch, Bruce? Honestly." Kal El also looked somewhat uncomfortable with the idea.
"Do you have a better suggestion?" Wayne asked, crossing his arms across his chest.
"Well, I am wondering... if J'onzz was masquerading as Gardener's aide... where's the aide? The last time I saw both of them together was that luncheon right before we left Mars."
"That's true. Gardener only started to get really noisy after then and I've hardly seen J'onzz since that lunch. It's possible that's when the substitution took place. I believe I should check Ambassador J'onzz's quarters for any indication as to why he would do such a thing."
"I can check his Aide's quarters then. Maybe there's a clue in there."
Kilowogg grumbled, "Alrighty. I guess the Cap'n figures its okay for you two to poke around. If we aren't gonna get any more clues in here, I may as well get these two down to Dr. Salakk. I'll tell my security boys give you guys clearnace for J'onzz's place and the aide's... what's her name..." He held his ring up and tapped at it, causing a small glowing green screen to appear. "Yeah, here it is. Gand. Laurel Gand."
Wayne frowned, "Gand... that doesn't sound like a Vuldarian name."
"It's Daxamite." Kal El replied, looking vaguely surprised.
"The Vuldarian aide... is a member of the only race even more paranoid and xenophobic than Kryptonians. How odd." Wayne caught himself and glanced over at the bemused Kryptonian. "Present company excluded, of course."
"Of course."
Kal El entered the aide's room and looked around cautiously. This room too was standard, if a trifle smaller than his own and very neat. He speculated idly as he glanced around. The choice of a Daxamite to accompany a Vuldarian as a sexual liason from a practical standpoint wasn't too far fetched. After all, Daxamites were a close evolutionary offshoot of the Kryptonians and reknowned for their strength and resilience... almost as much as their deeply rooted distrust of all other races. To find one on a diplomatic vessel was unusual enough... but in a capacity where she would likely have had to be... intimate... with a member of another species? It was almost inconceivable. Kal had seen her a few times during official functions, but had never had a chance to actually speak with her, although she hadn't seemed to be too distressed by being surrounded by alien life forms.
A sweep in infrared showed him no one had been in the room for the past few hours. At the desk were a few datapads with the topmost one indicating something about Imskan purchase invoices. He rifled through the pads, most of which were memos and various scheduling notes. Nothing unusual, much less incriminating. The one at the bottom did stand out. It was a diagram of the Martian nervous system. Or at least, what passed for one among Martians. It was an odd thing for the Vuldarian aide to have. Even if she were a Martian masquerading as a Daxamite.
He scrolled through the datapad's contents. It seemed to be from a standard anatomy textbook, but there were unusual notations next to certain nerve clusters. Particularly the ones pertaining the higher brain functions. He tucked the pad under his arm to show to Bruce. Perhaps the good doctor could shed more light on the matter.
He glanced at his hand, noting a thin coating of dust picked up from the datapads. The housekeeping on the ship hadn't been that lax as to have allowed such a buildup. Then again he had no idea how long these pads had been on the desk. Impulsively he squinted, focusing his vision.
"Curious," He murmured to himself as he realized the dust wasn't quite what it appeared to be. It resembled Martian cells... proving that there had been a Martian in the room, but there was an oddness to them. He focused his vision closer still and found a tiny electronics array attached to the nuclei of the various cells. He looked around the room and found more evidence of the odd cellular dust.
He moved to the door, intending to bring his finds to Bruce, just as the door slid open to reveal a stunningly beautiful blonde woman glaring at him. Faster than he could react, he found himself pinned against the wall, being held up by his tie, while the woman continued to glare at him, a fist pulled back and ready to smash into his face.
"Would you like to explain to me what you're doing in my quarters?" she growled menacingly.
Kal El struggled feebly in the woman's vise like grip. Her hair was long and blonde and her eyes a piercing blue. Her attire was an orange and black full-body ensemble that covered her from chin to toe. He gripped her forearm, trying to pull himself up enough to catch his breath and managed to choke out, "Are you Laurel Gand?"
"I'll ask the questions. You're the one snooping in my quarters!"
"Ms. Gand, are you aware that the Vuldarian Ambassador is in a coma?"
"What? Impossible, I was just with him a few minutes ago!"
"Miss, they found him in a coma more than half an hour ago." Kal attempted to pull himself up once more and finally sputtered, "Do you supposed you could let me down?"
"Who are you?"
"My name is Kal El son of Jor El. I'm the Kryptonian Ambassador to Earth. Captain Stewart was kind enough to allow me to assist in the investigation." He tried to gulp, but found it caught halfway down. "It is becoming a bit difficult to breathe, please."
Her eyes widened in surprise as she finally relented, releasing his tie and allowing him to slump to the floor. "Ambassador El, I'm terribly sorry. I did not realize you were--"
He smiled weakly as he regained his feet. "No harm done. I'm a bit surprised to find you here though."
She gave him a puzzled glance even as he noticed her trying to subtly wipe her gloved hands on the front of her clothing. The disgust on her features was evident.
"These are my quarters," she replied, "Why would you be surprised?"
"Because we were under the impression that you had been replaced by an impostor." Kal took another look at her. "You're a 38C, Miss Gand?"
Her eyes widened again as she crossed her arms, trying to cover her impressive chest. "Why is THAT any of your business, Ambassador? If you are thinking that just because I work as a Vuldarian Aide, I respond to crudity and randomly dispense sexual favors to anyone, then you are sadly mistaken! Why does everyone assume that that's my job? I don't even do that for Mr. Gardener!"
He looked up quickly, meeting her eyes once more as a blush rose on his face to match the enraged flush on hers. "Oh! I didn't mean any offense, it's just... ah... one of the items of clothing we found in Mr. Gardener's quarters included a female undergarment of approximately... that size." He paused, pressing against the wall. "It's an awkward question, I apologize."
Her scowl deepened as she leaned over him. "How do I even know you're the Kryptonian Ambassador? I've never seen a Kryptonian out of a bodysuit before... much less talking about female undergarments and apologizing. No Kryptonian I've ever met acts like that."
"Ahh... well, I've never heard of a Daxamite willingly mingling with other races before."
"Not all Daxamites are xenophobic prudes," she replied primly, still keeping her hands firmly in front of herself. "You certainly haven't answered the question." Her eyes narrowed.
Kal El sighed. "If you insist on my bonafides--" He took a deep breath and began to recite his complete name in Kryptonian.
She finally held up a hand before he was more than a third of the way complete. "That's enough. I believe you. That could only come out of a Kryptonian throat."
"Are you certain? I can name my forebearers back a few more millenia." Kal El replied with half a smile.
She stared at him. "A sense of humor, as well? You call yourself Kryptonian, but you act like... I don't know. A human."
His lips quirked. "I'll take that as a compliment." He frowned slightly as he remembered. "You don't serve Ambassador Gardener in a sexual capacity?"
Her lip curled as she shook her head violently. "Of course not! Don't be disgusting."
"But that's one of a Vuldarian Diplomatic Aide's main duties, is it not?"
"Generally yes, but we had an understanding. If he tried to touch me, I would rip his arms off," she snapped. "Not that that stopped him from trying."
"If it wasn't for sex then, what were you doing with him just a few minutes ago?"
"I... I was with him in his quarters." She stopped for a moment, then shook her head. "I was just with him."
"Doing?" Kal El pressed.
"I... I don't remember. Something. I was just with him," she repeated stubbornly. She reached out, grabbing Kal by his shirt and lifting him off his feet to slam him against the wall once more. "Stop asking me that! I remember I was with him!"
"We were just in his room, Ambassador Gardener was comatose," Kal choked out, "We didn't see--"
Without warning her furious expression turned slack and her eyes rolled up. She lost her grip on Kal El, who managed to catch her before she hit the floor.
"Well... this is an interesting turn of events." He murmured to himself as he carried her in his arms.
to be continued...