Biological Families

by a-delacroix

*!* COMPLETE *!* Clark, Lana, and Whitney travel to 1936 Nazi Germany to save their friends. Special Guest Stars: Dr. and Mrs. Indiana Jones and Var El of Krypton. Note: This is a sequel to 'The Portal'.

14. Biological Families Chapter 14

Biological Families

Author: duane at duaneaakre dot com

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. Well I own a house, two cars, a pair of jetskis, and a lot of other junk, but none of these characters.

Story Rating: R The story may drift into the HBO range rather than stay in the WB range, so to be on the safe side, I am rating this R.

Chapter 14

Part 1

Clark dropped the phone's handset back onto its old fashioned base. For a moment he stared blankly as he tried to plan a course of action. But before he reached any final decisions, his thoughts were interrupted by Whitney.

"Well, Clark, what did she say? Did she find out where Lana and Marion are?"

Whitney's combination of impatience at the enforced wait and eagerness to use his new-found superhuman strength was really starting to get on Clark's nerves. Clark wanted to snap at him, 'If I knew where they were, I wouldn't still be standing here.' But Clark managed to bite his tongue as he shook his head.

"She couldn't find any trace of Major Biberach or the girls since the events back at the chateau. The best she was able to do was to find the headquarters of the special 'Todeshauptgottnachfolger' branch of the Gestapo of which Biberach is a member. But there is no guarantee Biberach has gone there," answered Clark with another shake of his head. If there had been a guarantee they were there, he would have followed his initial impulse to race there and search for them. But he had tried that once before back at the Praetorian Camp in ancient Rome and it had only made matters worse. From the little bits he had gotten from Chloe after the fact, the scare his attack had put into Venta had only accelerated his actions. If Clark hadn't destroyed the fort in such a spectacular fashion, they might have had more time to find Chloe and Lana before their torture began. No, this time he was not going to go into 'full-on frontal attack' mode until he was certain where Lana and Marion were.

"Clark, where is this headquarters?" asked Whitney. "If it is our only lead, we need to check it out. If records exist anywhere showing where Biberach has taken them, it will be there."

As Clark looked at Whitney, he could see Indy nodding his agreement in the background.

Before answering, Clark paused to glance around the room one more time. They were sitting in the main lounge of the Olympic Village 'house' Clark and Whitney were sharing with fourteen other members of the American track and field team. At the moment, the room was empty except for the four of them. There was no telling how long this fortunate coincidence would continue as teammates had been wandering in and out in groups of two and three all morning. Glancing at the ornate German cuckoo clock adorning the far wall, Clark noticed it was already eleven fifteen and knew the lunchtime rush was less than thirty minutes away. If they were going to discuss this situation here anytime in the next three hours, it had best be now.

"Peenemunde. She said the headquarters is at Peenemunde."

Indy and Gretchen stared at Clark without a hint of comprehension of the significance of that word showing in their faces. But like any post-second world war school boy, Whitney's face showed instant understanding. His face seemed to turn slightly pale as he let out a loud exclamation.

"Shit."

Gretchen stared at Whitney, surprised by the vehemence of his response. She still had clear memories of visiting Peenemunde with her Dad when she was eight and couldn't understand why hearing the name of that seaside resort would cause such a strong reaction.

Fortunately, the past day and a half of constant exposure to English had greatly improved her fluency and confidence after years of little use. "I don't understand. The only Peenemunde I know is a simple little resort village on the Baltic coast."

"You've been there?" asked Clark with a look of surprise. Although the surprise was more due to Gretchen's entry into the conversation than the possibility she had personal knowledge of that site. Her eyes were still red and swollen from crying, but for the first time in at least a day she was actually taking an interest in what was going on.

Gretchen nodded. "Eight years ago. With . . . with my father."

Clark nodded and then sighed. Gretchen had slowly explained parts of her story, as she became more comfortable with the guys and the reality of her situation truly sank in. Now it looked like they were going to have to reopen her wounds before they even had a chance to heal.

Gretchen's father, Herr Professor Josef Unger, was an archaeologist, who Indy had actually met at a conference in Lisbon back in 1930. Professor Unger, it turned out, was the one who had recovered the Samson braids four years earlier. While Unger was affiliated with the University of Berlin, like Indy, his work took him all over the world. As a result of his travels and the fact Gretchen's mother had died many years earlier, Gretchen had spent much of her youth attending a private boarding school in Berlin.

Gretchen hadn't heard of the Samson braids until three days earlier when the Gestapo had shown up at her school and dragged her away. It wasn't until she arrived at the chateau and found her father being tortured that she learned the truth. Her father had discovered medieval records of the braids in a secret subterranean chamber below the old Hospitaller's Cathedral to St. John at Valetta on the island of Malta. These documents had described how the braids been returned in 1446 to their ancient resting place in a hidden cave in the Valley of Sorek in what in the nineteen thirties would be Palestine. After retrieving them from the Middle East, Unger had turned them over to the antiquities museum at the university. With the Nazi rise to power, the braids had been removed for 'the greater glory of the third Reich'. Now, three years later, the Nazis had returned to the Professor in search of additional information they thought he possessed about the braids.

When he had not responded to threats against himself, they had snatched his daughter for additional leverage. But when they had brought Gretchen into the same room with her father to show him they meant business, he had made a grab for one of the guards' guns. In the ensuing struggle the gun had gone off and Gretchen's father had been killed.

It hadn't taken long for the Nazis to discover Gretchen knew nothing about the Samson braids. But she now had learned too much from them to simply be released, so they had decided to use her for the upcoming black mass to their patron dark god. It was during this sacrificial rite that Clark had found and rescued her. During the ensuing excitement of the destruction of the chateau, she hadn't had time to dwell on the loss of her father. But later, during the ride back to the Olympic Village, the reality of her situation finally had time to sink in.

With her father dead, her only choices were to stay with Clark, Whitney, and Indy, or return to her school. But if she returned to her school, there was a high probability of another attempt on her life by the Nazis. So, for the moment, the sixteen year old girl had no choice but to remain with the guys. Not that she minded. No, these guys had somehow managed to destroy that whole evil chateau and they seemed to be on a path to wreak further havoc on the Nazis who had killed her father.

"I am afraid the small village you remember is long gone," began Clark. He glanced over at Indy for a moment. He was still leery of giving Indy too much information about the future. Thinking it over, Clark decided it was best to stick with the 'secret agent' cover story for the present. "The American government has been monitoring the Nazi activities in that area for several years. Because of its isolated location right on the coast, the Nazis have turned Peenemunde into their premier site for the development of futuristic weapons. They are working on new long-range rockets and revolutionary airplane designs. The coastal location is ideal for their purposes because it allows them to do flight testing out over the sea without over flying any populated areas where they would be noticed. The United States does much the same thing except with all of the open space in the American west, they have been able to cordon off large tracts of land in Nevada and New Mexico for their flight test needs.

"Anyway, getting back to Peenemunde, because of the nature of the work they are doing there, it has the highest level of security of any facility in Germany."

Whitney snorted. "Big deal. So they have a bunch of security. So what? Let's just walk up to the front entrance and if they won't give the girls back, we can just bust it down and search for them."

"Whitney," began Clark trying to keep his temper in check by reminding himself that Whitney hadn't been present when they had gone through the similar situation back in ancient Rome. "We don't know if the girls are there. If they aren't, we are going to need some time to search their records. I have tried the 'smash down the front door and act like you own the place' approach before, but it ultimately only made matters worse. No, I think we need to come up with a stealthy method of infiltrating that base so we will have time to gather as much data as we can before we are noticed."

"Clark, the clock is ticking. I don't know that we have time for an elaborate plan," interjected Indy.

Clark looked at Indy. "Okay. I think we should just head up there and see the lay of the land. If necessary, I am not opposed to smashing down the back door of the base instead of the front one. Certainly, if the facility is as extensive as my information indicates, there must be some lightly guarded places where we should be able to slip through."

Indy nodded. "I agree. The truck we 'borrowed' from the chateau should blend in with traffic around a military facility. I don't know where this Peenemunde is, so we will have to pick up a map, but any spot on the Baltic coast should be less than a four hour drive from here. If the three of us start soon, we should be there by late afternoon. That will give us a couple of hours of daylight to scout around and then we can make our move as soon as it gets dark."

"What do you mean the three of us? What about me?" asked Gretchen.

Indy looked at her. "This is going to be very dangerous and you have been through enough already. It would be safest if you wait here."

"What's the real issue?" asked Gretchen with a bit of an edge creeping into her voice. "Is it because I am a girl? Or is it because I am only sixteen? What about Clark?" She paused to give his face another once over. "How old is he? He doesn't look any older than the guys in my grade at school. And Clark and Whitney can't even speak the language. If you're going up there to look for paperwork to track down your friends, how are you going to be able to read it or even recognize what you are looking for? You need me. And I want to help."

When Gretchen finally wound down, Clark couldn't help but realize she was right. They really could use another person who spoke the language. He just wished they had some way to give her an edge like the Samson braids did for Whitney and Indy. Well, he was just going to have to make sure he stayed close to her.

"Okay, you can come along, at least until we get close and see what the situation looks like."

Gretchen smiled. She would find some way to make the Gestapo bastards pay for what had happened to her father. If only Clark hadn't rescued so many of them from the chateau, then the remaining score to be settled wouldn't be nearly so high.

Quickly, Gretchen bounced to her feet. "What are we still sitting around for? Let's get moving!"

The three men quietly rose to their feet and followed the girl out the door.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Part 2

Lana awoke early their first morning at sea to the sound of the klaxon announcing the dawn shift-change for the crew. The large battleship was still tossing and rolling, as it had most of the night, as it proceeded through the rough North Sea waters at high speed.

The beginning of the voyage had been so smooth by comparison. Of course, the first three hours had been spent cruising down the last fifty miles of the Elbe River, which connected Hamburg to the North Sea. No river could ever develop the large waves common in open water and because of the abundant traffic on the river, the mighty ship's speed had been constrained to a mere fourteen knots.

But once they had reached the sea, the storm-driven waves had become very pronounced while their speed had been increased to twenty-eight knots, very near the ship's top speed. Wherever they were going, they certainly were in a hurry to get there.

All night they had pounded their way north through the heavy seas. It was shortly after the dawn bells had awoken her that her 'bot system confirmed their course was swinging towards the east. When she asked the 'bot system for an estimate of the ship's position, she instantly received the mental image of a map of northern Europe centered on Denmark, which occupied the large peninsula on the northern boundary of Germany and stuck well north into the Northern Sea. Overlaid on the map was a dotted line of the estimated ship's route just like something out of an old Second World War naval movie. The course line had started out sharp, narrow, and dark at Hamburg. The further along the line she looked, the dimmer and wider the line became. Without even feeling the question fully form in her head, the 'bot system provided the explanation of how the wider line was intended to represent the growing uncertainty in the estimated position based on the limited data.

Even allowing for the current thirty-eight mile radius of uncertainty in their position, it was clear they would soon be nearing the northern tip of Denmark. Just out of curiosity, Lana asked the 'bot system to highlight the location of Peenemunde. Quickly a bright red swastika accompanied by the word 'Peenemunde' in bold type began pulsating on the northern coast of Germany well east of the Danish peninsula. In fact, it was almost due north of Berlin.

As Lana stared at the mental map, she realized the only logical reason for their current eastward change in direction was to swing around the tip of Denmark and then to turn south between Denmark and Sweden for the Baltic Sea. Of course, heading towards the Baltic Sea also meant they were heading in the general direction of Peenemunde. What if Peenemunde was their destination? What if the guys hadn't entirely been sent on a wild goose chase?

Lana asked the 'bot system to add a plot with hourly time markings if they took the shortest route from their current position to Peenemunde and if they maintained their current speed. Almost instantly the dashed line extended through the large mass of islands between Denmark and Sweden before sweeping on to Peenemunde with an arrival time of eleven forty-five that evening.

Lana couldn't help but grin to herself for a moment. This was so cool. She had never tried to use her 'bot system for anything quite like this before. As she remembered that the existence of this ship was supposed to be a secret and that they had intentionally waited until after dark to leave the security of the construction site, she realized her currently projected course passed too near land in broad daylight, particularly during the passage through the Langelandsbaell Strait between the Langeland and Lolland islands. So she next asked the 'bot system to plot a new best speed course that never came within twenty miles of land during daylight hours.

The new course took several alternate channels between the islands and slowed the ship from twenty-eight knots to thirteen knots between noon and four in the afternoon. It also delayed their arrival time at Peenemunde from roughly midnight until about dawn of the next day. So, if her guess about their destination was correct, they should get their first indication around noon when the ship should greatly reduce its speed. That would also be a sign they would then have eighteen hours to make their escape, because she suddenly just knew in her gut that their arrival at Peenemunde would signal the ship's destruction.

Wanting to get a second opinion, Lana glanced over to where Marion was still sleeping in the other bunk. She quickly decided to let her sleep. Waking her wouldn't help them out of their current dilemma. No, if they were going to escape, it was going to be up to her to make something happen. Well, perhaps there was someone besides Marion she could turn to.

'Laura,' she mentally called out.

Seemingly before the thought was fully formed in her head, Laura was standing beside her. As Lana glanced at her, she discovered Laura had swapped the green spandex uniform of the night before for a dark blue variation of the uniform the sailors were wearing. However, Lana thought, none of the sailors she had seen were wearing an extremely short miniskirt in place of the customary pants.

When she looked away from Laura, she noticed the map of northern Europe now appeared to be floating in space in the middle of the room like the image on a giant plasma TV.

Gesturing towards the map, Lana remarked. 'I think we are heading towards Peenemunde.'

Laura grinned. 'I was watching when you were experimenting with the map. And I agree. It seems like the probability is getting higher that Peenemunde is our destination.'

'If this ship is destined to be destroyed, I have a strong feeling it will happen when we get there. We need to do something to get free by then; being locked in this room doesn't feel like a good idea."

Laura nodded and was about to speak when they heard a rapping on the door and then saw the dogs securing it begin to rotate.

'I think it is time we start the official 'Lana and Laura' Adoration Society. Of course, we will only accept the most fanatical members who will gladly sacrifice their lives at our slightest whim. And I think the first candidates for the club have just arrived. Would you do me the honor of letting me drive, so I can administer the initiation test?' asked Laura with a wicked little grin.

Lana stared at Laura for a moment. She had no idea what Laura was talking about, as she had missed the discussion between Laura, Chloe, Lex, and Clark back in Rome after the events in the arena where Chloe had described how she used her gift to subjugate an entire empire. However she knew this was one of those times she was going to have to trust in Laura's far greater experience. Therefore she quickly nodded her concurrence.

The virtual version of their cabin quickly dissolved to be replaced by the real one as Laura assumed control of Lana's body. Keeping her head turned towards the door, Laura took a couple of steps back to give these visitors plenty of room to enter without feeling uncomfortably crowded; she needed them well inside the room if things were going to work.

Two sailors entered through the now open door. The first, carrying a covered tray of food, was very young looking, hardly older than Lana. The second was much older and had the feel of a man who had spent most of his adult life at sea. Neither was armed although Laura wasn't sure if that was because they didn't perceive the women as a serious threat, or if because they were well out to sea they didn't see what two women could do if they managed to get free of the cabin, or if they were afraid that if they carried guns the prisoners might grab the weapons and try to cause trouble. Whatever the reason for their unarmed state, Laura knew it would make the next few seconds easier.

"What's on the menu, guys?" asked Laura in German. Catching the eye of the younger sailor, she tilted her head to the side and put an expression on her face that seemed to say 'I am just a helpless young girl. I have no idea why I have been brought here.' Finally she forced a small smile onto her face and continued with, "I'm starving."

After a quick flick of his eyes towards his companion, the younger sailor returned her smile as he set the tray down on the table. "The cook who runs the galley for the officers' mess is very good." With a flourish he lifted the cover way from the large tray. "I think you will like this."

"It certainly smells good," said Laura as she took a couple of steps closer to peer passed the sailor's shoulder. The tray contained two servings of scrambled eggs with sausage, freshly baked pastries, and a small pot of rich German coffee. But what Laura was really focused on was the cutlery. The set included a couple of reasonably sharp looking knives.

"Oh, I am dying for my morning coffee," said Laura before stretching her right arm in the direction of the coffee pot. At the last second, when the younger sailor's body was mostly blocking the older man's view of her, she twisted her hand around and delivered three quick jabs of her index and middle fingers to the man's throat. The move had been called the 'An-slak-wu' when it had been developed back in ancient Lemuria, but these days she just thought of it as her own personal 'Vulcan nerve-pinch' since it had the same effect.

Quickly, as the younger sailor slumped unconscious to the floor, Laura picked up one of the knives and threw it hard at the older man's throat. Oh, she didn't want him dead, at least not permanently, but she needed them both silent and incapacitated long enough to get the door closed before they were discovered. As she rushed passed the older man she saw her aim had been true, the knife had penetrated his windpipe to prevent him from calling out, but had missed the main juggler veins. Good, she needed them free of visible blood stains when their 'initiation' was complete.

When the door was once again secure, Laura walked back over to the table and picked up the second knife. As she returned to where the older sailor lay on the deck weakly pawing at the knife protruding from his throat, she calmly used the blade of her knife to tear open a jagged wound in her left palm. Kneeling down beside the man, Laura set aside her own blade and with a quick jerk pulled the knife from his throat. She watched his eyes as she quickly slapped her bleeding hand down on his gaping wound. At first there was panic from what had been done to him. Then, as the knife was removed, a brief wave of relief passed through his eyes as though the removal of the weapon meant he would survive. Finally, four seconds after the initial contact of Laura's hand with his wound, his eyes abruptly went blank.

As she watched his eyes go blank, a quote from John Stuart Mill surfaced from the depths of her enhanced memory. 'Whatever crushes individuality is despotism, by whatever name it may be called.' It had been a very long time since she had used her gift in this manner. Oh, she had on occasion needed to use her 'bots for a short, brief interrogation, but that was a lot different from using them to enforce her will on another individual. And for at least the next twenty-four hours that is just what she was going to have to do, force this man and probably many others to do her bidding. She tried to console herself that it was necessary to get Lana and Marion out of this situation and that she would try to save as many men as was possible from whatever fate was about to befall this vessel. But she secretly knew her biggest fear was the risk to her own soul and sanity. Taking control of others was for her the ultimate addiction; an addiction she had once let run wild for centuries. She only hoped this time she could keep it under control.

Knowing her last opportunity to choose another course had passed when she had first struck the younger sailor, she forced herself to put her worries away and focus on what needed to be done. However she did take a moment to use her 'bots to close the man's eyes before she began plumbing his memories, his dreams, and his nightmares to find the most effective way to coerce his mind.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - +

Obermaat Peter Mausenhoff had never been particularly religious. Oh, he had been brought up Lutheran and had attended church with his mother every Sunday when he was growing up. But since joining the Navy twenty years earlier, he had rarely attended services. Well, that wasn't strictly true. No, after he had joined up in 1916 and completed the naval training course in 1917, he had seen almost eighteen months of sea duty before the Great War ended. And during that period, he had always attended the available religious services when they anticipated battle. But since the war ended, the peace and comfort they brought hadn't felt as necessary.

But as he suddenly came awake, he didn't at first understand why he had this feeling he should have made religion a more important part of his former life. Former life? Abruptly the events back in the prisoners' cabin flooded back. The knife penetrating his throat. Collapsing to the deck. The young dark hair girl leaning over him and pulling the knife out. Then his vision had slowly grayed out until everything had gone dark.

Was he dead? He reached up to his throat but couldn't find a single trace of any injury. With relief he sat up and tried to take in his surroundings and that was when the terror truly began to sink in.

He was no longer in the cabin or even on the ship. He was lying on a vast plain that stretched as far as he could see in every direction. And somehow he just knew he was seeing not the normal few miles to the horizon like in any everyday meadow or pasture, but rather he was seeing for hundreds, no, thousands of miles in every direction. All of it was barren land, no trees or bushes, only pale gray dirt. And nothing broke the uncanny silence, no animals, no birds, no insects, not even a whisper of a breeze.

Then he looked up to the brilliant sky he had originally mistaken for the bright lights of the cabin. At first it seemed like the sky was a uniform bright white from the impossibly distant horizon in one direction to the equally distant horizon in the opposite direction. But after a few seconds his eyes began to adjust to the overwhelmingly bright light and he began to discern tiny black dots scattered throughout the sky. After staring at a particular section of the sky for awhile, he realized the twinkling black specks were stars. It was like the whole sky in this strange place was a photo-negative of a real night sky, the stars were black and the sky was white. What could this possibly mean?

Lowering his gaze from these anti-stars, he once more gazed out about him. All directions looked equally the same. For lack of anything better to do, he picked a direction at random and started walking. He walked and walked. It could have been minutes or hours or days. But every time he paused and looked around, nothing had changed. He left no trail in the dirt and the horizon always looked the same in all directions. Perhaps his legs were churning but he wasn't even moving at all.

Finally, he just slumped to the ground and tried to think. What was this place? How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered before awakening here was the knife in his throat. Was he dead? Was this hell or purgatory or oblivion? He should have paid more attention in church to what they said came after death because whatever this place was, it wasn't at all what he expected of heaven.

Time passed slowly or perhaps it didn't pass at all as he sat there. With nothing else to do, he thought about his life. He had never done anything particularly bad, certainly nothing worthy of being sent to hell. But then he had to admit, he hadn't done anything particularly good either to earn himself a place in heaven.

More time passed. It could have been hours or centuries. He never noticed or wondered why he didn't grow hungry and didn't seem to need any sleep. He just existed.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the sound of an impossibly loud bell broke the eternal silence of the endless plain. Each peal of the bell seemed to make the very ground shake as he was forced to cover his ears with his hands. Endlessly the giant invisible bell tolled, making his head throb painfully in unison.

When the sound of the bell stopped, he didn't at first notice because the ground continued to shake. Then the shaking became more and more violent until he was bouncing around like the time his destroyer had passed through the hurricane back in '28. But this was dry ground, not an ocean. At least it seemed like dry ground until he managed to lever himself high enough to briefly see into the distance and saw how the land was rolling in giant waves just like the waves in an ocean.

Abruptly, the earth stopped moving and for an instant silence returned. But only for a moment, then the silence was broken by an unearthly howling sound like the reanimated dead made in a horror film. Only this was much more intense and terrifying; it was as though millions of dead had suddenly awakened in their graves. As that thought formed in his head, the ground started shaking again, only this time it was different. It sounded like something was trying to force its way up from below.

As his eyes darted around the immediate area, he saw small local piles of dirt being pushed up from the previously flat terrain. Then he saw the claw-like hands start to push up into the open. Then arms. Then tops of heads. Then shoulders and upper torsos. Then a voice started screaming in his head, 'The dead are rising. The dead are rising. THE DEAD ARE RISING!'

He tried to scramble away only to find the dead were rising around him in all directions. And it was happening as far as his eyes could see. His initial guess of millions suddenly seemed low; there must be hundreds of millions, maybe billions of dead clawing their way free from the earth. My god, he thought, is everyone who has ever died rising right here and now?

His heart was pounding in his chest so hard he was sure it was going to explode. Then the impossible happened and the pounding of his heart went up even another notch as the nearest figure turned towards him. It was his mother's corpse. And she was still wearing the same dark brown dress they had buried her in after she died during the great influenza epidemic of '21. Then just beyond his mother he saw his sister, Helga, who had died that same year. And there was his uncle Heinrich, who had died in the trenches, still wearing the tattered remains of his uniform. And beyond him more and more figures rose from their graves that he knew: family, friends, and shipmates. Was this the end of time? Was this Judgment Day? Why didn't he know and understand more?

He turned back to the vacant, decaying face of his mother.

"Mother?" he whispered. Then he gathered his meager remaining store of courage, he repeated it louder and louder.

"Mother. Mother. Mother. MOTHER. MOTHER!"

But no matter how desperately he needed a response, none came. Perhaps she couldn't hear. Perhaps she couldn't speak. She just stood there; her face lifted to the endless white sky.

Then, so softly he wasn't sure he heard it, she said, "She comes."

And slowly the chant was taken up by others, "She comes."

More and more joined in until the plain was filled with millions of dead voices all endlessly repeating, "She comes."

Like thunder the words rolled back and forth across the endless plain. "She comes." Who were they speaking of, he wondered. "She comes." The voices didn't sound jubilant or fear-stricken, merely relieved that the eternal, endless waiting was finally over. "She comes."

Slowly, the voices of the dead were overwhelmed by a new more powerful sound. Like an ocean-sized waterfall, the roaring sound increased to an unbelievable magnitude. It seemed to be coming from everywhere at once, but mostly from above.

He looked up into the brilliant white sky, but at first couldn't see anything. Then slowly he made out an infinitesimal golden speck in the glare of the negative sky. Gradually the speck grew as the object ever so majestically descended.

Eventually, the speck resolved itself into a golden throne, the most ornate object ever imagined. And surrounding it was a cloud of weaving, darting jewels, which he instantly knew was an assemblage of angels. Angels singing her praise in the most beautiful voices he had ever heard. It should have been impossible to hear their voices over the continued chanting of the dead and the roar of the throne's descent, but all three infinitely loud sounds could be heard simultaneously.

The throne continued its descent until it almost seemed to fill half the sky. It was clearly miles tall and sized for the one and only true God. The angels, too, began to resolve into individual beings and they were more dazzlingly radiant than anything a mere human could imagine. Each one of them seemed to be at least one thousand feet tall as they swooped down over the assembled dead before circling back to the golden throne next to which they looked as insignificant as gnats.

Finally, less then ten miles above the plain, the throne paused in its descent. Its occupant leaned forward ever so slightly, but all he could see was a glare of gold brighter than the noon-day sun and he found it impossible to force his eyes to look directly at it. Instead his eyes tried to dart anywhere else. At least until the words began to issue forth, although they seemed to spring straight from the center of his soul rather than from any mouth.

+-+Judgment Day is at hand. Prepare to have your life and soul measured. Those few found worth will spend all of eternity with me in heaven. The rest will be sent to the everlasting torment of the hell below.+-+

At this last pronouncement, the wail which arose from the waiting dead was more terrifying than anything he had yet imagined. But until this moment he never had even the faintest inkling of what heaven and hell could really be. Now he understood to the depths of his soul. And he was truly afraid.

Then an angelic voice called out, "Eva Lueckenhoff."

And immediately from the golden throne a single powerful decisive word rolled out, +-+ARISE.+-+

To the fanfare of ten thousand angelic trumpets, one of the dead in the distance burst forth with a light almost as radiant as the angels. Quickly the mortal body was consumed and the spirit of the woman ascended up into the heavens like a shooting star.

"Franz Klein," rolled out across the plain, as the angelic voice announced the next name.

+-+DESCEND+-+ was the pronouncement from the throne.

The horror-stricken word, "Nooooooooooo," seemed to have barely started to echo across endless plain when one of the dead burst into flame. The body twisted and turned in agony for a moment before the ground below it abruptly opened up and fifty or a hundred pairs of hands and arms rose into view to drag their victim down.

"Paulina Schwarz," was the next name called out, almost before the previous unlucky soul had disappeared from view.

+-+DESCEND+-+ was the immediate response.

And so it continued for seemingly endless hours, one after another. At most, only one in one thousand of the dead was being given permission to arise. But it was enough to keep the faintest spark of hope alive in him and all of the gathered dead.

More hours or days passed as the reading of the roll of life continued, yet so vast was the multitude, the crowd seemed hardly to thin. Although the golden throne seemed to demand almost his full attention as he waited his turn, he eventually couldn't help but notice that no one standing near him had yet been called to judgment. Then just as this fact seemed to register in his numb mind, he heard it.

"Peter Mausenhoff!"

In the fraction of a second that passed while he waited for God's judgment, his meager life once more flashed through his mind. As the key moments flashed by, he couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't God's method of reviewing his life and accomplishments. Had all of the other dead experienced this when their names were called?

After the moment seemed to have stretched on for an eternity, he felt the word of GOD.

+-+ Peter Mausenhoff, your soul and those of your family and friends hang in the balance. I am giving you one last opportunity to earn entry into heaven. One of my earthly followers needs your support. Do all that is asked of you, even if it requires the sacrifice of your life, and your family's place at my side is assured. +-+

Then a million trumpets blared and the angels all rejoiced by singing 'Hallelujah' at this momentous gift he had been given. As he stood there staring at the golden throne with tears of joy running down his face, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. When he looked back his mother stood there fully restored to the beauty and grace he remembered from his childhood.

"Go with God, my son," she said with the most wondrous smile on her face.

He tried to answer, to say how much he loved and missed her, but rapidly this plain of judgment and all of its occupants were slipping from his view. All he could do was return her smile and receive an acknowledging nod.

As everything faded to black, he knew he would do whatever was required to ensure his mother's place in heaven.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

The grating sound of their cabin door opening woke Marion from her restless slumber. She didn't easily get sea-sick, but this passage had been pushing her close to the edge. Opening her eyes, she took in the bleak gray-painted walls and remembered this wasn't the Atlantic crossing she had enjoyed with Hank, but a German battleship out on the high seas.

She turned her head towards the sound of the door and watched two sailors enter, one carrying a large tray of what was obviously food. She wasn't certain if her queasy stomach would permit her to eat, but maybe the tray would include something simple like plain wheat toast.

Lana was talking to the younger sailor with the tray as she moved over towards the table. Then almost before Marion realized anything was happening, Lana made her move. Marion and Hank had been through a lot of tight situations in the past, some of which they had only escaped by fighting for their lives. And Hank was pretty good when it became necessary to fight. But this young girl was definitely way out of Hank's league. She had known it since she witnessed Lana's fight against Biberach's two incredibly strong henchmen, but now she wondered if even then the girl had just been playing with them to stall for time to heal her friend.

This time Lana hadn't needed to stall and Marion realized it took less than two seconds from her first move until both opponents were slipping to the floor and the girl was racing to the door. Marion couldn't imagine what the girl's destination could be on a battleship at sea, as the first man who saw her would know she didn't belong.

But rather than dart out into the passageway, Lana quietly eased the hatch shut before turning back towards the room. After walking over to the table, Marion watched the girl use the remaining knife to tear open her own hand before proceeding over to the man she had taken out with the knife throw to the throat.

If she was cutting open her own hand, Marion knew it was to heal her victim. But if she intended to heal him, why kill him in the first place?

Marion watched as Lana pulled the knife from the sailor's throat with an ugly squelching sound. And for a second she thought the seasickness, which was bubbling just below the surface, was going to consume her. But she swallowed hard and forced it back down; whatever course Lana was setting them on, they might have to move fast and there wasn't time for her to be sick.

After the knife was removed, Lana knelt beside the sailor with her bleeding hand pressed against the wound in his throat. Finally, after what felt to Marion like minutes, but was really no more than eight or ten seconds, Lana lifted her hand away.

"Lana, what are you doing?" asked Marion in a hushed whisper, as though afraid her normal voice would penetrate the inch thick steel walls of their glorified prison cell.

She was startled when Lana turned her face towards her and she saw the inhuman fire in Lana's eyes, the way her nostrils were flaring, and how she was breathing hard like she had just run five miles to win some Olympic event.

After a couple of seconds the fire in the girl's eyes dimmed a little and her breathing was back under control. But when she spoke there was a hardness in her voice Marion had never heard before or even imagined Lana was capable of producing.

"I am working on a fucking escape plan," Lana growled out with an unbelievable intensity. As she continued, even her voice didn't sound to Marion quite like her own. "Do NOT interfere if you want to survive."

Marion was shocked to silence as she watched Lana pick up the bloody knife and move over to the second sailor. Quickly she lashed open this boy's hand and then her own, before repeating the healing process on him. Marion couldn't understand what Lana was doing. She remembered Lana telling her she had shared their blood so she could heal Marion in the future the way she had healed Whitney back at the chateau. But why was she doing this with these sailors? It didn't make any sense.

To Marion, this time the ten seconds Lana spent joined to the second sailor seemed to pass quickly. When Lana removed her hand and leaned back on her haunches, she spoke first, but again her voice was so hard, dark, and brutal it didn't sound in the slightest like Lana.

"Marion, get a wet towel so we can clean up this blood."

As Marion hurried into the head, it suddenly clicked. Underneath everything the voice sounded more like Laura than Lana. Who was in control of Lana's body?

Returning with the damp towel, Marion stepped close to where Lana still knelt next to the younger sailor. As she reached forward to wipe the blood from what she decided she had to consider Laura's not Lana's hands, Laura turned to look at her with dark, glittery eyes.

"No, stay back. If you touch me now, I will enthrall you too," Laura snarled with a look in her eyes that said she wanted to take possession of Marion and everyone else within reach.

Marion jerked back as though she had stuck her hand into fire. Suddenly, she had the tiniest inkling of what Laura was doing, and it scared her more than anything since first running into these kids. Scared her more even than Major Biberach. Back in Jaguar City, Laura's attention had all been focused on Lana, but now it was turned towards her. And having experienced first hand the places Laura could create in her mind, she couldn't even imagine what sort of places she would create when darkness filled her soul like at this moment.

Carefully, Laura reached out and took the towel from Marion's hand and then she proceeded to wipe first her own hands and then those of the sailor. Then she moved to the second sailor and wiped the blood from his throat and neck.

Once all of the telltale blood was removed from the older sailor, Laura touched his face and spoke in a commanding tone, "Arise, Peter Mausenhoff."

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Peter Mausenhoff came awake abruptly. One second he was standing on the Judgment Plain hearing God's pronouncement, and the next he was back laying on the floor of the prisoners' cabin on the Hitler. Had it all been a dream?

Then his hand rose to his throat and didn't find a single indication of the knife wound. No pain. No mark. No blood. Had the wound been a dream, too?

Finally, he noticed the dark haired girl kneeling beside him.

"Peter Mausenhoff, are you ready to be about God's work?"

'God's work?' wondered Mausenhoff. 'If it was a dream, how does she know?'

She must have read the confusion on his face for she spoke again and now there was more of the commanding power in her voice.

"I AM the emissary of God. You were returned from the Judgment Day to help me in my work to earn your family's place in heaven. Now, are you ready to be my faithful disciple?"

Before he could answer or even contemplate the question, she reached out and touched him. And it was like he was once again standing back before God, only this time he was awake and it was most definitely real. In every corner of his being he felt the power of God and in his heart he heard a chorus of a thousand angels singing God's praise.

With tears streaming from his eyes, he slowly rose to his knees and knelt before the girl. "What would you have me do?"

"You will bring the following men to me, one at a time, so they too can experience the power of God and join in the upcoming holy crusade." Then she proceeded to name his commanding officer and five of the men who worked under him.

When he nodded his willingness to follow her commands, she touched him again and once more he experienced the glory and power of God filling him up.

"Go," she commanded.

Quickly, he climbed to his feet and made his way out through the hatch.

+ - + - + - + - + - +

Marion watched as the tears of exultation streamed down the face of the older sailor, Peter Mausenhoff. She had heard of similar scenes to what she was witnessing among the 'Holy Rollers' religion down in the American South, but she had never seen it in person. Just seeing the expression on the man's face, she knew he would do whatever Laura commanded. With Laura's comments about God, disciples, and holy crusades, Marion was extremely curious about what visions she had been feeding the man. Whatever they were, they must have been even more intense then her own experiences in Jaguar City.

After the man rose to his feet and quickly exited the cabin, Laura moved over the second, younger sailor. As Marion continued to watch, Laura took a moment to run her fingers up and down the boy's face. Then, like with the older sailor, she said. "Arise, Wilfred Schmidt."

Marion couldn't help but notice the large erection in the boy's dungarees as he came awake and looked up into Laura's eyes. Nor the way Laura reached down and stroked his crotch with her free hand.

"Willy, are you ready to do anything I ask?" asked Laura.

"Yes, Mistress," he eagerly responded while not so subtly thrusting his pelvis up against her hand. "Just tell me what I need to do to earn the privilege of returning to the harem, Mistress."

Marion couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Whatever scenario Laura had used on this young man to gain his support was apparently very different than what she had used on the other one.

"Willy, you need to go find and bring back some sailor's outfits for me and my friend so we can move about the ship unnoticed. You would like me to be able to come visit you and your buddies down in your quarters, right? And be sure to include some hats to cover our hair. And with the inclement weather on deck, you better bring a couple sets of foul weather gear, too. If you can do that for me, I think a return visit to the harem can be arranged."

"Oh, yes, Mistress. I would love for you to able to join me down in my quarters. I know just where to get all of the clothes you will need. I can get them and be back in fifteen minutes."

Laura leaned down and kissed the boy hard before speaking. "No, you must go about your regular duties. Would bringing us lunch be part of your duties?"

The boy nodded but had a sort of glassy look to his eyes.

"Well, it would be best if you bring the clothes at lunchtime. I think a suitable reward can be arranged if you manage to get the clothes without anyone noticing. Can you do that for me? And can you spend your free time this morning thinking about what fun things you would like to do when you return?"

"Yes, Mistress," the boy whispered as he thrust feverishly against her hand.

Marion watched as Laura gave a painfully hard squeeze of her hand before abruptly withdrawing.

"I think little Willy needs to learn a little patience. If you do a good job at all of your tasks, he will be well rewarded."

Then Laura helped the boy to his feet and gave him a playful slap on the ass to send him on his way.

Once they were again alone in the cabin, Marion couldn't contain her curiosity, even though she wasn't certain she really wanted the answers.

Seeing that a little of the intensity had left the girl's eyes now that the men were no longer in the room, Marion asked, "It's Laura, right?"

Laura looked back at Marion before collapsing down onto one of the desk chairs. "Yeah, Lana let's me use her body sometimes. And this was one of those times where I had the experience necessary to do what had to be done, if we are to get out of here alive."

"What exactly is your plan?"

"Oh, at the moment I am just winging it. If things go right and we have enough time, I intend to have each man bring his commanding officer here so I can subjugate them until I have worked my way to the top and can take control of the ship. If things fall apart before then, I will try to have a backup plan in place to at least get us off the ship."

The ship was still severely pitching and heaving in the rough seas. Marion muttered, "I don't think I want to end up in the open water."

Laura looked at her and gave a wave of her hand as though Marion's concerns were too trivial to matter. "Believe me; I have survived a lot worse."

Perhaps it was the scene she had just witnessed with the two men, but for the first time Marion was truly starting to believe this 'Laura' really was thousands of years old and could survive anything you threw against her. But she also understood that Laura would have no qualms dealing harshly with anyone who stood in her way. And here she had thought dealing with Lana had been scary.

"Ah, could I speak to Lana for a minute?"

Laura's eyes got real still for a moment as though she was focusing on some internal conversation. Of course, Marion realized for her that could be quite literally true.

Finally, Laura shook her head. "I am afraid the shock of what she had to witness while I was dealing with those men was way beyond anything else she has had to endure since getting saddled with me as a roommate. I think she is going to need a little more time to recover from the experience."

Marion couldn't stop the shutter that ran through her body as she tried to imagine what Lana had just gone through.

+ - + - + - + - + - +

Part 3

It was thirty minutes after sunset as the four of them crouched down amongst the sand dunes one hundred yards from the electrified fence which formed the eastern perimeter of the Peenemunde Research and Testing facility. The fence was extremely well lit, guard towers were situated at five hundred foot intervals along its length, and guards with dogs were passing along the cleared area on the outer side of the fence at five minute intervals.

"This is the least secure spot on the perimeter we have seen," whispered Indy. "And I don't see how we are going to get through even here without being seen. Perhaps we are going to have to try the frontal approach similar to what Whitney originally suggested. Maybe we can bluff our way through the main gate. I have done it before."

Clark thought back to what he could remember of Indy's adventures from the movies, not that real life had been exactly like the movie version. But from what details Indy had shared, the broad strokes were very similar. Apparently when Henry Jones and George Lucas crossed paths in the distance future, George would take detailed notes.

"So, Hank," whispered Clark in turn. "Have you really bluffed your way into one of the Nazis most important and well guarded facilities in the heart of the fatherland?"

Hank looked at the fence and the towers again before finally shaking his head. "Well, ahh, no."

"Okay, I guess then it is up to me. Remember how I used the Vulcan transporter device to get us out of the chateau? Well, I can use it to move us passed the fence and into the shadows between those buildings over there," and Clark paused to point to a group of buildings just barely visible in the distance. "But I better go first and see if I can't scrounge us up some uniforms, so we will look like we belong."

Fortunately, the gloom mostly hid Clark's smile. Sometimes it seemed like he spent more time using his special abilities to steal clothing than for anything else.

Clark pulled out one of the spare communication devices he had picked up after his original one had ultimately been destroyed back at the chateau. After appearing to fiddle with it for a few seconds, he looked up at the others.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. Wait here for me."

Then Clark shifted his body into 'speed mode' and gave a quick shove upwards before starting to fly in an arc that would take him over the barrier fence. He knew in the relatively dark spot where they were hiding that he would have appeared to have almost instantly vanished.

Clark cleared the twenty foot high fence by a good forty feet, but once he was past it, he willed himself to continue to climb. They hadn't been able to discover much about the interior layout of the facility during the three hours they had to spend scouting the area and the small picturesque village of Peenemunde before darkness fell. And unfortunately, back here in 1936 you couldn't just go on the internet and call up satellite photos of the area.

Clark climbed steadily until he was almost two thousand feet in the air. This was the highest he had been since he had discovered his ability to fly two nights earlier. It was quite the rush to be this high up and to have such a bird's eye view of the world. Although truthfully, few birds ever flew this high. But tonight this much height was necessary if he was going to be able to see the whole facility at once as it sprawled along almost five miles of the beach and extended inland about two miles. They were going to have a lot of ground to cover if it ended up being a random search for the one, doubtlessly small, records archive they needed to find. Hopefully with Gretchen and Indy's ability to read German, it wouldn't be a truly random search.

Fortunately, the archive room wasn't Clark's primary objective at this moment. No, he was looking for a barracks where he could 'borrow' some clothes and a barracks should be much easier to spot from the air.

The most prominent feature of the base was its two large runways. The first ran parallel to the coastline for use when the wind was blowing west to east. The second ran perpendicular to the first for times when the wind was blowing north or south. A number of historic-looking old three-engine transport planes where parked on the apron near the south end of the airfield. What was the model number of the Junker's version of the classic Ford Trimotor?

But Clark knew the more interesting aircraft would be located in the hangers lining the runways. Would planes like the Stupka dive-bomber or the ME-109 fighter be here for development testing, he wondered. And what about the giant building near the juncture of the two runways? It looked big enough to house one of the fabled German airships. Clark had seen the movie 'Hindenburg' several times and of course there was the airship scene from 'Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade'. It would be so cool to see an airship while they were back here. Then he remembered the famous scene of the Rocketeer flying up to the dirigible from the Griffith Observatory out in L.A. Hell, he could duplicate that and he didn't even need the jetpack!

Enough day-dreaming, Clark chided himself. Focus on the mission first. With the size of the facility, there had to be a large number of people living on base. Plus, it wasn't necessary to find uniforms specifically for the branch of the Gestapo to which Major Biberach belonged. No, any military uniform found on the base would do. Although hopefully he could find something that was a better fit for himself and his two equally large male companions than the undersized jackets he and Indy had ended up with back at the chateau.

Clark banked over towards the southwestern quadrant of the base as that area just had the 'feel' of housing. As he got closer he made out a well-lit soccer field with a game in progress. Yes, this was definitely the right area of the base. He decided to take a closer look and went into a power-dive, zooming straight down to the ground. He waited until the last possible second to pull out of the dive and went racing across the field mere inches above the grass. As he was weaving between the frozen in-place players, it was very tempting to grab the ball and mess with their game. But as he near the end of the field where a large knot of players were congregated near the goal, Clark realized some of these players were pretty good sized. Quickly, Clark gained a little altitude as he looked for the field house of the athletic complex.

The field house was a large three story brick structure which housed a gymnasium, a fencing center, and an indoor pool. Clark planted his best landing yet in his two days of experience, ending up one hundred feet from the main entrance with a smooth transition straight into speed running mode. He raced into the building and quickly found the men's locker room. It wasn't until the fourth aisle of lockers that he found an unoccupied row. Fifteen of the twenty-eight lockers in this row had locks. If he was lucky, some of these would have the clothes he needed. As he started crushing the locks with his powerful grip, he hoped that breaking open a few lockers here at the gym wouldn't trigger a base wide alert. Surely, they must have some problems with petty theft here just like back in the twenty-first century or they wouldn't bother with the locks. Now he just had to be careful to not leave any of the broken locks where they could be quickly found.

The first locker contained a gray Luftwaffe uniform with a lot of ribbons and braid, however when Clark held it up, it was immediately apparent the owner was a lot smaller than Clark, Whitney, or Indy. Moving on to the next locker he found something he could use. It was a lot plainer than the first one, but then an athletic younger soldier wouldn't have yet achieved a high rank.

Clark only had to ransack eight more lockers before he had 'acquired' three sets of uniforms of more or less the correct size. Now came the tempting part. Should he make a side trip to the women's locker room to look for a more appropriate set of clothes for Gretchen? Since being back here in Nazi Germany he had seen very few women in uniform, so having Gretchen pose as a civilian secretary wouldn't be unexpected. A month ago, he would have used the need for a change of clothes as an excuse for a trip to the women's locker room and if he saw a few naked women, well that would just have to be the price he would have to bear. But a lot had changed in the past month and most if it was associated with one Chloe Sullivan. And at the thought of Chloe he was reminded of the whole reason he was back here in Nazi Germany. And it was not about fun and games, but about rescuing Chloe and Lex. Of course, rescuing Lana and Marion had to come first.

With a sigh, Clark, as usual, decided to do the right thing by forgoing the voyeuristic expedition to the women's locker room and focus on the mission. With a little more searching, he found a large laundry bag. After dropping the remains of the padlocks into the bottom of the bag, he changed into one of the uniforms and then added his suit and the two spare uniforms to the bag. Looking like the poster boy for a Gestapo recruiting campaign, Clark shouldered the bag and raced back out of the field house.

After exiting the building, he quickly launched himself back into the air. He was halfway back to where the others were waiting when he noticed a dark building with a large adjacent parking area filled with an assortment of cars, trucks, and even a few half-tracks. This must be the motor pool. Remembering how Indy had hot-wired the truck after the events at the chateau, Clark thought he could do it, too. And given the size of the base, having a set of wheels at their disposal would speed things without having to make excessive use of the 'Vulcan Transporter' cover story.

Clark dropped into the lot and ran a quick eye over the available choices. Finally, he settled on an open staff car. It was a warm beautiful night, plus the stowed convertible top would give him easy, quick egress in case of an emergency.

It was only the work of a tiny fraction of a second in speed mode to pull the wires loose from the ignition switch, find the right pair, and twist them together. Clark was finally forced to drop out of speed mode as he waited for the engine to turn over and catch.

Once the engine fired up and started idling smoothly, Clark spent a few seconds pushing and pulling various knobs until he found the headlight switch. This was still prewar Germany and things like curfews, blackout curtains, and covered lights were still many years in the future. For now, driving around the base without lights was a bigger risk than driving with them.

Slipping the car into gear, Clark pulled out of the parking lot and then turned left in the direction of the eastern perimeter fence. The three mile drive to the buildings near where he had left the others took just over five minutes. Considering all the other events, which occurred prior to stopping for the car, covered last than one second of 'real time', he still had plenty of time before the others should start becoming overly concerned.

After parking in the shadows of an alley between two of the buildings, Clark grabbed the laundry bag before climbing out. As he paused for a second before flying back to join the others, he looked up at the adjacent dark buildings. Wouldn't it be funny if the information they were looking for was located right in one of these buildings and the whole stealing of the car would turn out to be for naught? But then Clark shook his head. If the branch of the Gestapo they were searching for was anything like what he expected, their facilities on this giant base would be carefully guarded 24/7. Actually, looking for guarded buildings might be as good of place to start their search as any other.

Tossing the bag over his shoulder, Clark leapt into the air and soared back to where he had left the others.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

Indy and Whitney rejoined Clark and Gretchen from where they had retreated behind a dune to change their clothes. Clark had learned enough during the past few days back here in 1930's Germany to know that his jet-black uniform was only worn by the Gestapo while Whitney's and Indy's light gray uniforms were for the Luftwaffe, the German Air Force. But he still didn't know the secondary details like how to decipher the rank insignia.

"Hank, Gretchen. Does one of you know enough to tell what the ranks for these uniforms are?"

Gretchen was the first to respond, "Clark, your uniform is for a lieutenant in the Gestapo while both Whitney's and Hank's are for captains in the Luftwaffe."

Clark frowned. "So they both outrank me?" Whitney shot him a quick grin. He never should have gone for the gaudiest one.

"Well, yes and no. On paper at least, a Luftwaffe captain does outrank a Gestapo lieutenant, but the typically arrogant Gestapo officer would never admit to it."

Gretchen looked Clark over. Even with the uniform, Clark still managed to look sixteen. "Clark, I know you don't speak the language, but at a signal from Hank or me, can you at least try to look a little intimidating?"

Clark thought back to the time he had spent impersonating a Greek God back in ancient Rome. Could he project that power without using his voice? Standing a little straighter, he put on his 'godlike' countenance and then turned up just the faintest hint of his heat vision. Apparently, it worked as Gretchen abruptly took a step back and she seemed to turn a little paler under the dim light.

"Okay, Clark," she managed to say with a slight catch in her voice. "I guess you can pass for one of them. But how about you tone it down a little until we actually need it?"

Clark gave her a quick wink. "Okay." Then turning so he could see the guys as well, he continued. "Is everyone ready to go?"

Gretchen took a deep breathe and then nodded. Indy tugged down on the sleeves of his jacket one more time before giving a curt nod. Whitney gave an enthusiastic nod of his head; he had been waiting ever since getting the Samson braid to get into action and finally it looked like things were about to happen.

"Okay," began Clark as he once again pulled out his communicator and pretended to fiddle with the settings. "Now this can be a little disconcerting. I would recommend you close your eyes and it will all be over in a second."

The other three quickly closed their eyes and Clark immediately shifted into speed-mode. One at a time he ferried them over the fence and then placed them next to the hidden car.

"Okay, we're there," Clark said in a voice a little above a whisper.

The others opened their eyes and took a quick look around. They were standing in the shadows of an alley between two wood-frame buildings. Like what seemed to be the case on military bases around the world, these buildings had the feel of structures intended only for short-term occupancy during the construction phase, but which had ultimately been put into permanent service. So, even though they had just received a fresh coat of paint, they still managed to look shoddy and decrepit.

After giving the others a moment to adjust to their new surroundings, Clark spoke up again. "I guess we could start by searching these buildings, but my gut tells me what we are looking for won't be here. I mean, I don't see the guys from the chateau trusting in just the perimeter fence to protect their secrets. No, they would be equally paranoid about others on this large base getting access to their secrets. So, I think we should start by focusing on places with more security. That's why I 'borrowed' this car."

"Yeah, Clark, I agree," answered Indy as he turned to look over their new transportation.

"Great," responded Clark. Then with a flourish, he pointed to the driver's seat. "Hank, since you speak the language, would you like to drive?"

"Sure," then Indy turned to Gretchen. "Do you want to ride up front with me? We can let Clark and Whitney sit in back and practice being silent and acting all self-important."

Before Gretchen even had a chance to answer, Whitney vaulted into the back seat. "Come on, let's go already. Time's a wasting."

Indy shook his head as he climbed behind the wheel. He had been experiencing the rush of wearing the Samson braid for the past couple of days, too. But so far he had managed to behave with at least a modicum of dignity, unlike Whitney who had been almost bouncing off the walls with his new-found vitality. Perhaps he was really starting to get old when instead of focusing on the excitement of suddenly having superhuman strength, he instead couldn't get his worries about Mar out of his head. It was now over two days since he had last seen her. Where was she? What were those Nazi swine doing to her? If they hurt so much as one hair on her head, he would make them pay most dearly.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - +

They spent over thirty minutes slowly cruising the various roads and streets of the base. In that time they located three areas with heighten security. The first was a row of hangers, including the giant airship building, along the edge of the runway. None of these buildings looked like offices, so they continued their search. The second was near the beach and looked more like an industrial complex. From the large storage tanks arrayed along one edge of the area, Clark and Whitney surmised this was the rocket development area.

The third area they found seemed like the best bet. It was a modest office complex like several others they had seen scattered around the facility. But this one had a pair of armed guards standing outside every entrance. And these guards were all dressed in the black uniforms of the Gestapo.

After circling three out of the four sides of the two block by three block complex, Indy drove on for a couple more blocks before turning one more corner and parking out of sight.

"I think this is it," Indy said as he shut off the motor.

"I agree. Wait here while I do a quick reconnoiter," answered Clark before vaulting out of the back seat and onto the sidewalk.

"Wait, let me come with you," added Whitney as he also rose from his seat.

Clark looked at Whitney for a second and then shrugged. "Okay."

Pulling his communicator one more time, Clark stabbed an imaginary button and shifted to speed-mode once again. Throwing Whitney over his shoulder, he vaulted into the air and flew back to the guarded office complex. From the air he could see several interior courtyards not visible from the street. He selected the one with the most lit windows around its perimeter as his landing site since he had a hunch what they were looking for would be in the busiest area.

Landing much more lightly on his feet then he had been able that first night after the long fall from the chateau to the rocks in the river, he quickly moved around and peered through all of the windows, both dark and lit. He was interested in both the activity in the facility and in finding a secure spot to where he could 'transport' the others. Most of the lit windows showed normal office type activities, but one heavily draped set of windows in particular drew his attention. Carefully sliding the window open a few inches, he pushed aside the curtain to see a roomful of people frozen in place due to the 'speed-mode' effect. Most of the men in this room were not dressed in military uniforms, but in robes that seemed to be a match for those back at the chateau. It looked like they had found their goal.

After absorbing the view, including the implements of the black arts scattered around the room, Clark pulled the curtain back into place. Now it was time to find a spot to hide Whitney while he went back for the others.

Returning to the task of searching the windows around the courtyard, Clark located a dark room with two long rows of file cabinets. This might not be what they were looking for, but it seemed as good of place as any to start. Pushing one of its two windows open, he eased Whitney's body through the opening and then climbed in himself before dropping out of speed-mode.

"Whitney," Clark whispered as he watched Whitney try to adjust to the abrupt change in locale. "I think this is the right place. I saw a group of men in robes just like back at the chateau. Wait here while I go get Hank and Gretchen."

Whitney reached up and tugged on Clark's arm before Clark had a chance to leave. "Clark, how do you do it? I have been dying to ask. I understand the speed-running, but how did you get us past the fence? And the time back at the chateau when we were falling towards the river, how did you get us to that other bluff?"

"Ah, Vulcan transporter, don't you remember?"

Whitney snorted. "Yeah, right. So give."

Clark grinned. "Trade secret. If I told you, I would have to kill you. Now just wait here, I'll be right back."

Clark didn't wait for a response before reverting to speed-mode and turning the dive out the window into a flying arc that swept him up out of the courtyard. Originally, he had intended to explain the situation to Indy and Gretchen before bring them to the room, but now he decided to bring them straight there in speed-mode first. It would be a little disconcerting to them at first, but with Whitney's recent state of mind, he was nervous about leaving him alone in the building for more than a few seconds. Who knew what stupid, dangerous thing Whitney might do given his current feelings of indestructibility.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +

They had been quietly searching the file room for twenty minutes without finding anything leading directly to where Major Biberach had taken Lana and Marion. Oh, Gretchen had found several mentions of Biberach, just nothing recent. These files seemed to be primarily copies of correspondence, or more accurately orders, from a group called 'The Tribunal' to people and organizations all over Germany. Surprisingly, they had found a large number addressed to Adolf Hitler personally and these were written in the form of commands in much the same manner as the few they had found addressed to Biberach. They all had to wonder who or what this 'Tribunal' was and if it truly was the power behind the throne like these documents indicated.

Indy jammed the pages he had been reading back into their folder, slid the folder into its slot in the cabinet, and eased the drawer closed. Then he tapped Gretchen on the shoulder and motioned with his head over to where Clark and Whitney were waiting by the door. Giving a nod of her head, she took a moment to restow the document she had been examining and then walked over to join the men.

When they were all close enough to hear and keeping his voice to a whisper, Indy said. "These records cover a period of time going back three years, which would coincide with the opening of this facility. But I haven't seen anything less than a month old. I think the more current documents must still be in the staff offices. We are going to have to move into the more occupied areas of the building, if we are going to have a chance of finding paperwork with Mar and Lana's current location."

Clark, who had spent most of this time watching the other areas of the building with his x-ray vision to see if they had been discovered, slowly nodded his head. He knew it wouldn't be as easy as finding what they needed in this conveniently unoccupied room. At least between the time they had spent driving around the base and looking through the documents in here, it was now after 10 PM and the stragglers among the office workers had mostly cleared out. The group in the robes where still in the room he had seen earlier, but the files they were looking for were unlikely to be in that room.

"Okay, I guess it is time to test out these uniforms. Everyone try to remember we are supposed to be dedicated Nazis working hard for the greater glory of the fatherland and act accordingly. And Whitney, wipe that stupid grin off your. . . " And abruptly Clark stopped talking in mid-sentence.

The others stared at the suddenly blank expression on his face. After a moment his eyes started darting around as though he was trying to locate something. Then he turned and his attention seemed to be focused on one of the walls where a row of cabinets stood and one of the ubiquitous portraits of Hitler hung.

"Clark, what is it?" hissed Whitney feeling both afraid and somewhat excited that their presence might have been discovered.

"Do you hear that?" asked Clark suddenly; as though Whitney's voice had broken whatever trance he had been in.

"Hear what?" asked Indy after receiving shrugs of shoulders and shakes of the heads from the others.

Clark was about to try and explain what he was hearing when he realized whatever it was, he wasn't hearing it with his ears. No, it was like some totally new sense, similar to hearing, but different had suddenly been activated. Sort of like the way his x-ray and heat visions had just sort of spontaneously turned on.

Whatever he was sensing . . . no, sensing didn't sufficiently differentiate the experience from the normal human range. Suddenly the term 'relling' popped into his mind from the classic James Schmitz story, 'The Witches of Karres'. Somehow the term just seemed appropriate for what he was experiencing. He was relling some kind of power source or energy field that had just switched on. It was unlike anything he could ever remember experiencing before, yet it felt so familiar like deep down in his soul he should know what it was.

But whatever it was, he immediately knew it didn't belong in 1936 Nazi Germany. Finding the paper trail to the girls was going to have to be put on hold for the moment.

Clark pulled his communicator back out of his pocket and played with it for a minute before looking up at the others. "Some power source was just activated nearby and the Vulcan-based sensors in my communicator picked it up. Whatever this device is, it shouldn't be here in this Nazi base. We have to go check it out."

Then without even pretending to use his communicator to initiate the 'Vulcan transporter', Clark shifted into speed-mode and one by one flew the others back out to the waiting car.

"Hurry up and get in. What we are looking for is somewhere over there," and Clark pointed in the general direction of the airfield.

The others exchanged a look that said none of them understood what had just happened, but for the moment they were going to have to follow Clark's lead. He was the one with all of the technology which had allowed them to penetrate this highly secured facility and if he thought this matter was urgent, they would try to help.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - +

It took less than five minutes with Clark pointing the way and Indy driving for them to reach the road running past the guarded hangars by the runway. They cruised down this road at a slow steady pace, as though they were merely out for a pleasant evening's drive.

This close to the source Clark had no difficulty 'relling' that the source was located in the eastern half of the large structure he had originally guessed was an airship hangar. He tried focusing his x-ray vision on the building, but all he saw was an indistinct gray blur. Either the building was constructed of lead or it had a very thick coating of some lead-based paint. Either way, they were going to have to enter the building to discover what was in there which had awakened this new sense.

And definitely it was some kind of new sense which must be related to the electro-magnetic spectrum. For now that it was activated, he was noticing all kinds of sources; although most of them were as weak as candles compared to the bonfire raging in that building. When he tried to tune out the powerful source in the building, he could detect a faint source in the engine compartment of the car, which with his x-ray vision he confirmed was the generator and which from school he knew would be putting out a small magnetic field. Once he understood what it was, he immediately recognized a dozen similar sources scattered around the base and knew they were other vehicles with their engines running. And sort of like radar, he could now pinpoint all of their positions.

Similarly in the distance he could connect another somewhat brighter source with a group of radio towers. One of the towers was definitely putting out Morse Code as the source seemed to pulse with a slow languid rhythm: dot . . . dot . . . dash . . . pause . . . dot . . . dash . . . dash. The other active tower was putting out a different kind of signal. It felt almost like music and it seemed like with a little practice he would be able to recognize it. Did this mean he could suddenly hear radio signals without even needing the radio?

When the heat vision had first kicked in, it had been so scary. This new sense in and of itself wasn't scary in the same way, but just the fact it was happening was scary. How many more abilities were going to appear? When they had all appeared, would he even be able to relate to humans anymore? A little panicked voice was starting to scream in his head and he had to force himself to focus on the current situation to try and drown it out.

Clark leaned into the front seat between Indy and Gretchen. "The power source I am picking up is located inside that largest hanger, somewhere down towards the eastern end. We are going to have to get in there and check it out."

Indy nodded and started scanning the area for a place to hide the car as he slowly drove down towards the eastern end. Across the road from where the guards were posted was a supply depot with numerous stacks of sheet metal, I-beams, and timber in an open area adjacent to a covered area filled with wooden crates. Indy turned the car onto the gravel road which ran along side the supply depot and then doused the car's lights before pulling up behind a large pile of crates.

Clark took a moment to study their position relative to the pair of guards and the entrance to the giant building. The guards were stationed at the perimeter fence located about seventy-five feet from the building itself. He could fly himself and the others past them without being noticed, but could he get them through the door without the guards seeing or hearing something? It would be simplest to just take out the guards, but he had no idea how often they were rotated or had to check in. And if at all possible, he wanted time to check out the building and its energy source without being interrupted.

Hmm, a simple diversion might be in order. If he made enough noise over here, it might cover the noise of their getting through the door of the building. After getting the others out of the car and having them close their eyes, before he used the 'Vulcan Transporter', he accelerated into speed-mode and made a side trip over to the largest stack of sheet metal. He quickly heaved one corner of the stack about eight feet up into the air. Hopefully, when it came crashing back down, it would look like it had merely been poorly stacked and had spontaneously tumbled to the ground.

Then, still in speed-mode, he flew the others over to where they were standing just outside of the door. After shattering the lock on the door, he quickly pulled the door open and moved the others inside.

It wasn't until he had the others inside and the door pulled shut that he paused to take in the contents of the giant building. And what he saw so shocked him that he dropped out of speed-mode and then never even noticed the distant rumble of his noisy diversion.

Filling this end of the brightly lit, massive building was a giant ship. But it was not an airship like Clark had been expecting. While it seemed to be floating as lightly as an airship, it had a solidarity about it that just shouted it was made of inches thick steel, or some alien equivalent. For with one quick look, Clark knew he had seen its like before. And the place he had seen it was down in his father's storm cellar. This giant three hundred foot long by one hundred foot wide ship was just like a scaled up version of the little ship which had brought him to earth.

Oh, the shape wasn't exactly the same. No, the prow was a little less pointed and the central spherical shape was sort of squashed down, but the general shape was the same. And the symbols around the perimeter which were currently glowing an incandescent white were very similar to the ones on his own ship. My God, thought Clark, this ship has to be from the same place I am!

Clark gave the ship a closer look and noticed the giant blackened, torn up area along the left side of the lower surface. Something extremely powerful had hit and damaged this ship.

He was just starting to take a step forward towards the ship when his three companions opened their eyes. Gretchen let out a gasp and Whitney exclaimed, "Holy Shit!"

Indiana Jones managed the most coherent response. "Clark is this a Vulcan ship or does it belong to one of the other star-faring races you mentioned?"

If Clark wasn't still in such a state of shock, he might have laughed. He had played up the whole Vulcan story so much that when an alien spaceship suddenly showed up, Indy didn't even blink an eye.

Clark was trying to come up with a good, hell any, response when suddenly three giant legs extended out of the bottom of the spaceship. As soon as they reached the ground, the brilliant lettering around the perimeter of the ship began to fade and the energy source, which had activated Clark's newest sense, spooled down.

Once the incredible power source of the giant ship seemed to fall dormant, a hatchway suddenly opened and a ramp began telescoping down the thirty feet to the ground. Before the end of the ramp had even reach the floor of the building, a man came striding down. When he reached the ground, he immediately turned and started walking towards the group still frozen in place by the door.

As he step from the shadows under the ship, they could all make out he was a tall man with jet black, closely cropped hair. As he got closer, they could see he was wearing black trousers and a royal blue buttonless shirt. Over this he was wearing what looked like a long lab coat only his was of some shiny silvery material rather than the traditional white. Pieces of equipment could be seen to bulge out the deep pockets of the coat, but what attracted Clark's attention was the symbol on the jacket where a vest pocket would normally be located. The symbol was bright red and shaped like a diamond with a stylized 'S' inside. Clark didn't understand it, but there was something achingly familiar about that symbol. He didn't remember seeing it on the exterior of his ship, but he must have seen it somewhere before.

The man approached within six feet before pausing and everyone couldn't help but notice he was just as tall as Clark. And Whitney realized the man actually looked a lot like Clark. Oh, not like a twin brother, but more like a distant uncle. The man looked to be in his upper thirties and very fit, sort of how Clark might look when he filled out and put on another thirty or forty pounds of muscle.

The man looked each of them over before addressing them in German. "Wer sind Sie? Sie wissen, daß niemand hier drinnen erlaubt is, wenn ich prüfe."

'Shit,' thought Clark. 'I am about to meet someone who may be from my home planet and he speaks fucking German."

"Gretchen, what did he say?" asked Clark while watching the man's face. From his expression, it was obvious he didn't understand English. Wonderful.

"He asked who we are and says we should know no one is allowed in here when he is testing."

Clark looked at the man for a moment. There was one easy test to determine if this was a normal man or someone from his home planet.

Clark stepped forward and extended his right hand. "I am Clark Kent."

The man looked at Clark's hand for a moment and then reached out and clasped it. Clark slowly tightened his grip to the point where a normal man's hand would have been crushed.

The man just smiled with a small twinkle in his eye and answered with his name.

"Var-El."

End of Chapter 14

Author's Notes

Laura's Judgment Day sequence is based on this dream I had back in 1987. Eighteen years later and it is still very vivid in my mind. When I woke up from the dream, I was drenched in sweat and the sheet was tightly wound around my neck. Perhaps some of the blood flow had been cutoff from my brain. Anyway I ended up laying there for a couple of hours afterwards, certain the world had actually ended. Even for the next couple of days, nothing seemed quite real. Very, very strange.

As far as the character Var-El, we will learn more about him in the next chapter. For now, just let me say he is a relative of Clark's (as I am sure is obvious from his name). I don't believe he has shown up in the Smallville TV show, but he has appeared on a couple of occasions in the Superman comic books. In those stories, he went on several time-travel adventures with Superman, so including him in this story seemed appropriate and as much within canon as anything else.

+ - + - + - + - + - +

Serran -

I looked it up on the internet and if you throw in the people killed by Hitler and Stalin in their respective purges the consensus seems to be around fifty million dead with one source quoting a number as high as eighty-four million for the period from the mid-30's to the end of the second world war. However I think I am going to leave the number in the story where it is. Clark doesn't (yet) have a total recall memory like Chloe does in this story and so he probably didn't know the correct number. And since his goal was to scare her into acting, I think an upward exaggeration is acceptable.

I do like your 'carpet-bombing with nukes' line. Since I got your review, I happened to hear on the military channel or the Discovery channel that the U.S. and Britain dropped three million tons of explosives on the Nazi controlled portions of Europe during the Second World War. This got me curious, so I looked up the facts on the Hiroshima bomb. It was the explosive equivalent of fifteen thousand tons of high explosives. If you divide the two numbers together you find that the allies dropped the equivalent of 200 Hiroshima class nukes on Europe. So they did come pretty close to 'carpet-bombing with nukes'!

The Bismarck class of battleship is 118 feet wide at its widest point. So two of them side-by-side would be 236 feet. If the construction building was 375 feet wide, it would leave 139 feet of width for construction cranes and a couple of railroad tracks to deliver materials. A tight fit, but the Germans were always masters of intricate design and detailed planning.

+ - + - + - + - + - + - +

winthjo -

Well, someone is going to trash 'The Hitler'. Although is it going to be Clark? Hmm, that might be a little too obvious for my tastes. And hopefully, this chapter gives a hint that it might not be beyond what Laura can accomplish. But there is at least one more big plot twist coming before that point, so we will just have to wait and see.

+ - + - + - + - + - +

Danny -

Hmm, I got a little sidetracked with the whole 'Indiana Jones' subplot, so the 'Biological Families' aspect got pushed back. But hopefully this chapter will get that aspect of the story moving forward. Anyway, I always envisioned 'Biological Families' as a three story arc. In this first part, which mostly takes place in Nazi Germany, Clark learns to fly and learns the first little bit about his heritage. In the second part, they travel back to Chloe's original civilization (and just for Rebel Goddess, all of the men back there wear tights!) and their actions ultimately lead to the creation of one of Superman's classic foes. In the third part, they will try to reach Krypton before its destruction, but the best they can do is reach Argo City shortly before its destruction and thereby rescue Kara and her parents. Of course, at the pace I write, it is going to take years to reach that point.

As far as the story being intense all of the time, what can I say; I write what I like to read. Plus with this story I am trying to make each chapter sort of like a TV episode so the whole story is like one season (Of course, my season is shorter than the typical year long season on Smallville, but still a lot longer time span than a season of '24'.) anyway to get back to your original comment, if you have any suggestions for 'happier lines', I am willing to listen.

+ - + - + - + - + - +

As always, thanks to everyone else (especially Rebel Goddess) who sent a review. They are always appreciated.

Have a great day!

Duane