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'.

20. Chapter 20

9/8/06

Biological Families

Chapter 20

Part 1

Adjusting his tie, Clark stared at his reflection in the mirror in Var El's suite aboard his great ship, Wegthor's Shadow. The suit, which he had retrieved during the evacuation of Peenemunde from where he had left it in the car by Var's old hangar building, still fit exactly the same as it had when he had last worn it twelve hours earlier, yet something in the mirror seemed different. Finally after staring for a few seconds, Clark decided it wasn't the suit that had changed but rather himself. He had read in books about a 'hollowness in the eyes', but had never understood the phrase before. Now it seemed like he was seeing it and it reflected a hollowness in his heart.

He had been through bleak times before, but this time felt different. Back in ancient Rome when he had arrived in the arena and discovered Chloe and Lana's lifeless bodies, he had gone so deeply into shock his new-found heat vision had run amuck. But that time Chloe had returned to save him and even though Laura had ended up Lana's body, for Clark at least, things had quickly returned to 'normal'.

Then when Chloe and Lex were stricken back in the storm cellar, events had been happening so quickly with Lana, Whitney, and the tornado and then the trip through the time machine, he hadn't had time to dwell on the situation and besides, Lana and Whitney had been there for support.

But now Whitney was dead and Lana had disappeared through the time machine leaving him feeling very much alone. Oh, Hank, Marion, Var, and Gretchen were here, but they all belonged here in the past and weren't a part of his 'real' life. No, this was the first time he had ever been truly on his own and he had to find the strength to soldier on. Oh, he could always just escape to home, but if he didn't see things through, doing everything just right, he might lose all of his most important friends forever.

A sharp knock at the door broke through his bleak, gloomy thoughts.

"Clark, are you ready? Var says we're almost in position," called Hank's voice through the intercom mounted next to the door.

At first Clark wondered why Var hadn't just sent the message straight from his command chair, but then he realized Var must have understood what Clark was going through and the importance of the personal, physical touch. Of course, who better than Var to understand since Var himself had been cutoff from everyone he knew and loved for years.

Giving one last tug to adjust the suit's left sleeve, Clark picked up his fedora hat and walked over to the door. With a light touch on the adjacent control panel, the door smoothly and quietly slid open revealing the similarly civilian attired Doctor Jones.

Hank took one look at Clark's face and then threw an arm over the younger man's shoulder in a fatherly gesture.

"Come on, Clark. You'll get through this. We all lose friends at some point. It always seems hard, but you have to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Eventually it becomes . . . ah . . . bearable," said Hank, as he guided Clark back onto the bridge with its panoramic view through the seemingly transparent dome.

Clark heard the concern in Hank's voice and realized he had let his thoughts get him down further than they should. Nothing at this point was truly lost. Oh, from the perspective of the others Whitney was dead and gone, but they didn't have access to a time machine like he did. No, by using the time machine Whitney's rescue was still within his reach. Although like a line of dominoes, everything had to occur in the correct sequence. Before he could go after Whitney, he first needed to save Lana or Chloe; both to have a way to heal Whitney's body and for the help he would need in running the time machine.

While rescuing Whitney wouldn't need the split-second timing required to grab Lana's parents from a crowded street just as the meteor hit; the timing would still be tricky. He had used his x-ray vision from the bridge of the Nazis' flying battleship, Deutschland, to watch and count off the eighteen second window they had during the plunge of the battleship from where he had lofted it next to the Deutschland until it impacted the surface of the sea. So they had a nice fat window to open a portal and pull Whitney's body through. No, having time to retrieve him wasn't the challenging part, but rather determining when the window should open was going to be the problem. Chloe had mentioned using sophisticated atomic clocks and high-speed cameras to determine the exact timing for Lana's parents. But he didn't have any atomic clocks and the clocks scattered around the two German ships he had seen during his 'speed mode' rescue of the Hitler's crew had varied by three or four minutes. Lana's internal 'bot clock should provide the accurate timing they would need, so even if he rescued Chloe first, they might still have to wait until they somehow restored Lana to control of her body before they made an attempt to rescue Whitney. For a moment Clark pondered the impact to Whitney's life if they couldn't rescue him until after he was due to report to the Marines. But then he couldn't help but shake his head; late was most definitely better than dead.

As the two men walked out of the corridor leading from Var's quarters and moved further under the high arching dome, the brilliant blue light filling the bridge helped to lift Clark's spirits. Looking out, Clark saw a solid layer of clouds far below. But from their current position above the clouds, the view seemed to stretch on for ever and ever. In his sixteen years Clark had seldom flown anywhere by plane. But he simply knew they were well above the height passenger jets of his own era flew. And they were way, way higher than the mile or so he had gone since discovering his ability to fly.

"How high are we?" he asked as he reached a position beside Var's command chair.

Var in turned glanced out to take in the view as he did the conversion from Kryptonese to English units in his head. "About eighty-five thousand feet, I want to park the ship well out of reach of any German weapons. And hopefully, at this altitude no one on the ground will even see this ship."

Eighty-five thousand feet, over fifteen miles straight up, repeated Clark in his head. He remembered from somewhere that NASA and the Air Force gave astronaut wings to anyone who went over a hundred thousand feet. Were they that close to the edge of space? When he glanced up, the sky directly overhead was a distinctly darker shade of blue than the color nearer the horizon.

"So, you are just going to leave your ship hovering up here?" asked Hank who had followed Clark over.

"That is my plan. I believe the ship's brain and I have located all of the Germans' attempts at sabotage. If not, I have a communication device the ship can use to reach me in an emergency. Of course, that assumes Clark's transporter device has sufficient range to deliver us safely to the ground from here."

Clark glanced over at the older Kryptonian, who sat in his command chair looking subtly wrong in a dark gray business suit also scrounged from Peenemunde rather than his own light silvery-gray lab coat. While still in 'speed mode' during the rescue operation, they had agreed it was best for everyone if their ability to fly remained a secret.

"Yeah," responded Clark. "It will be fine since we will be going straight down through air rather than having to penetrate through rock or other dense materials. And having the coordinates of our house in the Olympic Village further simplifies things."

"What are we waiting for then?" asked Gretchen, who had joined the three men at the command chair.

Clark looked over at her. Ever since the destruction of the two great Nazi ships and the devastating explosion at Peenemunde, she had been in remarkably good humor. But since the Nazis had killed her father right in front of her only hours before Clark had first met her, she had had a right to be in a dark vengeful mood. He wondered how disappointed she would be if she ever found out no one at Peenemunde had been killed. Well, he decided, no reason to bring the topic up. It would only open up one more Pandora's Box worth of questions.

"Nothing," answered Clark with a sweep of his arm indicating they should step away from the command chair to a spot near Marion.

After Var made some final adjustments to the controls, he climbed down and joined them.

Clark pulled out his communicator and appeared to fiddle with it for a few seconds. "Okay, all set. Now, if everyone will close their eyes, the transition will be less jarring."

Dutifully, Gretchen, Hank, and Marion closed their eyes. Immediately, Var and Clark shifted into 'speed-mode'.

"How do you want to do this?" asked Clark.

Var glanced quickly at the others as they stood frozen in place. "How about you take Gretchen and I'll take Marion. I'll follow you down since you know where we are going. Then I'll come back for Hank while you scout out the area around this house where you are staying to make sure there aren't any surprises waiting for us when we revert to 'normal mode'."

Clark grinned, "Sounds like a plan."

Carefully, Clark picked up Gretchen and carried her to the grav-shaft, beginning the route to the main exit on the lower surface of the central sphere he had come to use so many times in the twelve hours of 'real time' which had passed since he had boarded the ship for the first time. Although as a result of the huge amounts of time he had spent in 'speed-mode' the twelve hours felt closer to two weeks. As he strode rapidly down the painting-lined corridor on the lowest level of Var's ship, he couldn't help but momentarily shake his head. To anyone not directly involved, like his Mom and Dad, it was barely eight days since he first passed through the portal on his way to ancient Rome. But between the time travel and the extended periods in 'speed-mode', from his personal perspective that day was almost two months in the past.

As he reached the exit, where one more step would lead to an almost limitless drop, Clark forced himself to focus on what was coming up rather than what had already passed. They could be about to step into a Nazi trap, as the Gestapo surely must have made the connection between Hank, Marion, and the rest of them by now. And there were potentially three more of the Samson braids still in Nazi hands. Oh, they would not be the slightest inconvenience while he and Var were in 'speed-mode', but they had caught him off-guard before. For a moment he almost regretted leaving the one Whitney had been wearing with his body back on the battleship. If he hadn't, Gretchen could now have the same protection Hank and Marion enjoyed. But it was too late to worry about that, he would just have to keep a careful eye on her.

Probably as a result of the stress of losing the last of his 'true' friends, Clark's mind seemed to race from one topic to the next. It wasn't until he leapt out into the void below Var's ship that he finally seemed able to relax a little. He had only discovered his ability to fly three days earlier, but already it was almost like an addiction. He couldn't wait to get home and share his ability with Chloe once this current mess was resolved. But then a frown crossed his face as he remembered he could only fly while in 'speed-mode'. How would he ever be able to explain the feeling in mere words, if Chloe would always be frozen in time whenever they shared the experience? But then a potential source to answer his question suddenly appeared flying in formation next to him.

Clark glanced over to where Var lightly held Marion Jones' body in his arms while matching Clark's steep descent. "Var, is it possible to fly in 'normal mode'? I can only seem to do it in 'speed mode'."

Var returned Clark's glance. "Be glad you can do it in 'speed-mode', it is a distinct advantage to be invisible and able to hide your presence. And how would we have been able to save all those people on the ships and at the base, otherwise?"

"Oh, I am not complaining. I recognize the advantages," Clark answered quickly. "But I would like to be able to share the experience with my girlfriend, Chloe."

"Ah, I see your point. It will be hard for Salva to believe what we can do here without her experiencing it for herself. I have never really thought about it before. Let me think for a second."

Clark watched as Var's eyes turned inward while he explored the problem. After a moment, Clark turned his gaze back down towards the cloud layer which still seemed a long way below. He had just spotted an unusual metallic silver dot glimmering above the clouds near the horizon when Var again spoke.

"Clark, I don't know if it is possible to fly in 'normal mode'," began Var.

Clark felt himself sag a little in response before Var continued.

"However I think I see a solution which should achieve the desired effect."

Clark looked directly into Var's eyes and then lifted his eyebrows in a pleading expression. Var quickly grinned.

"Okay, I'll explain. You know how you push your body deeper and deeper into 'speed-mode' when you need to amplify the time dilation effect like when we evacuated the thousands of people from Peenemunde in a tiny fraction of a second of 'real time'?"

Clark nodded.

"Well, you just need to learn to do the exact opposite. I mean you need to figure out how to go as shallow as possible into 'speed-mode'. It should be theoretically possible to shift so slightly out-of-phase that no one will notice you are doing it. So not only will your girlfriend be able to fly with you, you should be able to appear to hover to anyone on the ground. Although that would seem to risk exposing your gifts about the same as . . . oh . . . lifting a giant battleship into the sky?"

Clark stared at Var wondering why he hadn't thought of it himself. For once Var said it, the solution to his question suddenly seemed so obvious. For a second he was almost tempted to try it right then, but remembered Gretchen in his arms. She might not appreciate finding herself apparently in freefall thousands of feet from the ground. But he definitely wanted to see if he could do it or at least start practicing it at the first opportunity.

With a stupid grin spreading across his face, Clark nodded his thanks. Then feeling a need for a couple minutes of fun before getting down to the true business of the day, Clark gestured to the silver object off to their right and still thousands of feet below them.

"Var, let's check it out before we head down."

Var looked in the direction Clark indicated and saw a vast flying ship. For an instant a shiver of concern shot through him. Had the Germans already built more than one of the flying dreadnoughts? Were there more ships and bases he would have to destroy before it would be safe for him to go home?

But when he turned his x-ray vision onto this new ship, he found something completely different. This ship was light and delicate. Unlike their previous opponent with its many inches thick armored hull, this one appeared to be made of fabric stretched over a very light weight framework.

His curiosity aroused, Var changed direction and knifed down towards the ship which seemed to be floating just above the clouds. Quickly, Clark turned to follow and the pair raced down.

Clark had quickly recognized the ship as one of the lighter-than-air dirigibles of this era. As they approached he first was able to see the giant Nazi flags adorning the tail fins. This was one of the famous Zeppelins like the one from the final Indiana Jones movie. Was this the same one depicted in the movie, he wondered briefly? Then he almost stopped flying in surprise as they swept under the prow and the giant black lettering proclaiming it to be the 'Hindenburg' came into view.

Clark's knowledge and memories of the nineteen-thirties were hazy like most modern Americans. Oh, he clearly remembered the infamous 'Oh, the horror' footage of the hydrogen filled ship burning and crashing in New Jersey. But the long ago events had become blurred and in his memory the Hindenburg had been destroyed on its maiden voyage like the Titanic. While in truth, the passenger ship had been in trans-Atlantic service for almost exactly one year when its end came. Now, in its third month of operation and nine months before it would meet its ultimate fate, the Hindenburg was heading to the Olympic opening ceremonies as part of the Nazis' grand display.

Flying along the underside of the mighty ship only feet from its hull, the ship seemed to stretch before Clark almost forever. Oh, he knew its length was in the same range as the great battleship he had hoisted into the air and its weight must be less than one percent of its counterpart, but the clean, simple lines of the craft made it seem even bigger.

Then they were flying passed the long, long row of canted windows which lined the ship's lowest deck. Looking in, Clark could see the railing lined with people looking out, seemingly right at him. For a moment he was tempted to slow and see if he really could hover in plain sight just to see their reactions. But quickly he came to his senses, the Nazis had enough unexplained events to ponder with the loss of their two great ships and the destruction of most of their base at Peenemunde; he didn't need to provide any more ammunition by being seen to fly by hundreds of people.

Therefore he followed behind Var as the older man swept aft along the fuselage, passed the giant engine nacelles with their props frozen in place due to the 'speed-mode' effect, and then on passed the large fabric covered rudder.

Var swept passed the tail of the dirigible and then looped up to make a pass running forward along the ship's upper surface. As he proceeded, he slowed enough so that Clark could pull up along side.

"I have never seen a ship like this. Oh, I have heard talk about them, but never seen one for myself. So this giant craft truly just floats through the air?" asked Var.

Clark nodded. "Yeah, although I have to admit I have never seen one before either. They are filled with a special lighter-than-air gas which provides enough lift to compensate for the weight of the craft. But they are very fragile and dangerous. They were only used intermittently for about twenty years. And almost all of these types of crafts were lost due to weather or fire. They were exceedingly dangerous and when other long range aircraft became available, they quickly fell out of service. So by my era these craft had been regulated to the history books for a long, long time."

"I have no recollection of any similar craft being developed on Krypton," said Var. "If they were it must date to a time before we even had history books. Or perhaps the different physical aspects of Krypton, which give us the incredible abilities we have here, makes this type of craft impossible back home."

Clark nodded again although rather than in concurrence, this time it was more an acknowledgement of how limited his knowledge of his homeworld still was.

As they once again reached the prow of the craft, Var said. "I think it is time we focus on what we came for."

Clark knew he was right and taking the lead he turned them back down and quickly passed into the cloud layer. The special field which enveloped them while in 'speed-mode' prevented them or their passengers from getting wet during their passage through the clouds. When they broke through the cloud layer, a light mist filled the air for the remaining three thousand feet to the ground. Clark found himself hoping the whole day wasn't going to be rainy and drizzly. It seemed like the opening of the Olympics should call for a bright and sunny day.

Quickly Clark scanned the ground below. It took a moment to become oriented as he still wasn't used to thinking in 'aerial view' mode. But then he found the landmark he needed, the long, straight Olympicstrasse joining the two large venues. Var's aim with picking the spot to anchor his ship was good; they were less than a mile south of their destination in the Olympic village.

Swooping down, Clark descended until he was less than twenty feet above the broad main boulevard. Tracing his way north, he followed the boulevard for four blocks until reaching the cross-street leading to 'his' house. As he made the turn, he glanced back down the mile of street between his current position and the stadium where the opening ceremony would be held. Already the street was closed to vehicular traffic and was completely jammed with people making their way south. Intermixed with the crowds of tourists he could already make out numerous clumps of people all dressed in similarly colored attire. Obviously, many of the Olympic participants and their coaches were en route to the festivities. Had the American team already departed, Clark wondered. Of course, did it even matter? No, the important thing was ensuring Hank received the package Chloe had seen in her shared memories from his ship. It was both necessary to close the time loop and hopefully useful in finding a solution to Chloe and Lex's condition.

Performing a more thorough scan of the crowd between his location and the stadium, Clark didn't find any large clumps of people dressed in the dark blue blazers and white 'Buster Keaton' style straw hats he knew the American team would be wearing. As his motion swept him further down the cross-street until most of the Olympicstrasse Boulevard was out view, Clark swung his view back forward. As the five blocks, which separated his house from the main street, glided past beneath him, he saw the crowds start to thin. By the time he reached the large chalet style structure, which had housed Whitney, him, and twenty-eight other athletes from the American team for most of the past week, the crowd seemed to have disappeared. Although there was still a big difference between uncrowded and actually empty of people. It was definitely going to take a little work to find a spot where they could drop out of 'speed-mode' without appearing to simply materialize out of thin air in front of bystanders.

Clark nodded towards the house to indicate to Var their destination and then climbed twenty feet higher before circling around the building in search of a sheltered spot to deposit the women. After his second loop, he decided the best spot was behind a small utility building about thirty feet behind the main structure. The smaller building would prevent anyone in the house from seeing them and the two rows of trees should do the same for people looking out of the windows of the adjacent houses.

As he gently stood Gretchen back on her feet, Var deposited Marion beside him.

"Clark, scout out the area while I go back for Hank," reminded Var.

Clark barely had time to nod his head in agreement before Var leapt back into the air. Clark paused for a moment to watch Var's retreating form. Even though he had logged a lot of flight time in the past three days, it still seemed strange to watch from the vantage point of the ground as someone else did it. Strange, but still way cool.

It felt like only a few seconds before Var dwindled to a small black dot which then disappeared into the clouds. Once Var was no longer visible, Clark turned his attention back to his surroundings. Moving at slightly less than a flat-out run, he did a quick tour around the outside of the house to look for anything unusual which he may have overlooked from above. Not finding anything, he made his way over to back door of the house.

The back entrance led into the communal kitchen. The house had a full-time cook as part of its staff, but the kitchen was also open for the athletes at all hours due to their widely varied schedules for practice sessions as well as the upcoming competitions. However at the moment the room's only occupants were the cook and one of the maids. Both of the women were frozen by the sink where they were cleaning up from the noon meal. Seeing nothing of interest, Clark quickly proceeded on with his inspection of the house.

A quick tour of the main floor, which included the dining room, large living room, and six bedrooms, showed nothing unusual. Moving on, Clark proceeded upstairs to where the remaining ten bedrooms were located. Leaving the room he had shared with Whitney for last, he inspected the other bedrooms first. Feeling almost a little disappointed, he didn't find hordes of black-clad Gestapo agents lurking in any of the bedrooms or bathrooms. He used his x-ray vision to check for listening devices, but didn't see anything electrical except for the phones and the normal wall wiring, at least nothing that to his untrained eye looked out-of-the-ordinary.

Finally, convinced the rest of the house was clear, Clark moved on to the room he had shared with Whitney for most of the past week - and for the past couple of days with Hank and Gretchen, too.

Stepping into the room, it looked the same as when he had last seen it. Was that only the previous afternoon? Less than twenty-four hours earlier? With the trip to Peenemunde, the discovery of Var and his Kryptonian heritage, the battle with the German ships, and the destruction of the Nazi base, it certainly felt like a lot longer than twenty-four hours.

Seeing nothing immediately out-of-place, Clark quickly followed the procedure he had employed with the other bedrooms on this floor using his x-ray vision to check the closet, bathroom, and even under the bed. But just like the other rooms, he found nothing. Either the Nazis had been a lot more subtle than he expected or else there was simply nothing here. Was it possible the Nazis hadn't made the connection between them and the events up north? Thinking about it, Clark realized the Nazis would very severely limit knowledge of the loss of their two latest super-toys as well as the large military base. Perhaps so strictly, only the highest levels here in Berlin had yet to hear. So if the news hadn't trickled down to the lowest field operations level, then the worker-bee level would only have the potential connection between Hank's sudden appearance in the Olympic Village and the events back at the chateau. And since that had been several days in the past, it probably wasn't enough to suddenly trigger any action while they had been gone.

Clark still intended to check out the immediate neighborhood before officially declaring the area clear and reverting to 'normal mode', but he was feeling a lot better with this house being free of any activity by their German opposition. Therefore he allowed himself a moment to scan the contents of the room. As, depending on how things played out at the stadium, he wasn't certain if he would ever be returning here.

The room with a solitary window looking out across the front lawn was furnished with two double beds, a desk, and a small table with two chairs. But it wasn't the furnishings which had come with the room that interested Clark. No, it was the small collection of mementoes of their visit to the Olympics they accumulated. The whole Olympic pin craze was still many decades in the future, but there were still plenty of souvenirs to be had. A couple of commemorative beer steins were sitting on the table as well as a rolled-up copy of the official Olympic poster. But what Clark was really looking for was still sitting on the corner of the desk. Walking over, he picked up the small stack of photos. A photographer for the Hearst newspaper chain had been present their first morning when Whitney had run the 200 meter race which had earned his position on the team. Just the morning before, the photographer, Sam Eccleston, had tracked them down to present them with copies.

Now Clark thumbed through them slowly and felt tears once again welling up in his eyes. The top photo in the stack showed Whitney crossing the finish line with Owens and Metcalfe clearly trailing in the distance. The next was a candid shot of the three racers standing in a group catching their breath. Then there was a shot of Lana giving Whitney a post-race hug with Clark standing immediately behind the pair. The remainder of the shots were a random assortment of Clark throwing the javelin and Lana talking to the coaches. But it was the one of Lana hugging Whitney which tore the most at Clark's heart. The end of that race was maybe the happiest moment they had experienced since they had been back here. And look at things now – Whitney was dead and Lana was lost under the control of an ancient evil incarnation of Chloe.

Finally, Clark slipped the photos into his jacket pocket. His eyes swept the room one more time, but the photos were the only things present that mattered to him. Hopefully, one day he would be able to share them once more with Whitney and Lana.

Clark had started towards the bedroom door when he remembered the one other thing they needed from the room. Turning back, he returned to the desk and pulled open the center drawer. Reaching down, he pulled out his and Whitney's identification badges which indicated they were members of the team. Then he grabbed the three guest seating tickets they had acquired for Hank, Marion, and Gretchen for the opening ceremonies. They had arranged the tickets after rescuing Hank from the chateau when they already had Gretchen in tow. At the time Marion and Lana were still missing, but they had gone ahead and gotten a ticket for Marion in hopes they would find her in time. Of course, thought Clark, they hadn't realized they would need a fourth guest pass at the time for Var.

But thinking back to Chloe's comments back in the storm cellar, his presence suddenly made more sense. Chloe had said she had seen an image from whatever was attacking her of Dr. Jones receiving the artifact from the German Luftwaffe Major. How could that image have gotten into Clark's ship if someone hadn't been there to witness the exchange? And since the image had to have been in Clark's ship since before it had left Krypton, the witness had to be from there. So it followed that the presence of Var or someone like him was necessary at today's events to bring the timeloop full circle.

However that suddenly left them with four guests and three guest passes. Someone was going to have to use Whitney's team member pass to get into the stadium. Hmm, the passes didn't have photos like modern ID badges, just the person's name and team. Looking at the team pass again, Clark noticed they didn't even bother with the full name, just a first initial and last name, so any of the others could pass as W. Fordman.

Hank definitely needed one of the guest passes as they had already arranged where he would be meeting Major Eckmann to retrieve the artifact. So either Var, Marion, or Gretchen would have to use Whitney's ID.

If they were going to use the team IDs to enter the stadium, they were going to have to be 'in costume'. Moving over the closet, Clark exchanged his dark gray suit coat for his blue blazer and then his fedora for the white flat-top straw hat. He had never worn hats other than the occasional baseball cap. It had taken a few days to adjust to the look of the fedora, but he had finally come to like it. But looking at himself in the mirror, he simply hated the look of the team hat. No matter what angle he tried, he always ended up looking like an idiot. A stupid fucking idiot. Maybe it was a good thing no one else from home was going to be at the stadium today.

As he retrieved the photos from his suit coat, Clark contemplated a stop back at the house after going to the stadium, if for no other reason than to retrieve the suit coat. Oh, the suit might not pass for the most current style back home, but at least he would feel a lot more comfortable than showing up in the straw hat.

Picking up Whitney's blazer, he realized the first choice for wearing it had to be Var. He was a little taller than Whitney's six-three and probably carried thirty pounds more muscle, but he should be able to squeeze into it. Of course, the downside of that solution was it left both Clark and Var down on the field when the action would be taking place up in the stands. It really seemed like one of them should be closer in case things turned ugly and the Germans tried anything.

Perhaps if she rolled up the sleeves and pinned up her hair, Gretchen could pretend to be part of the team. The American team was certainly large enough so everyone wouldn't be known by sight. And Gretchen should be safer down among team members, too. The Nazis might grab an individual or two from the crowded stands, but they would hardly grab someone from the middle of several hundred Americans. The more he thought about it, the better the idea of hiding Gretchen among the American team seemed to be. Particularly since she didn't have one of the Samson braids either.

With some of the details starting to gel in his mind, Clark took one last look around the room to see if he had forgotten anything else important and then forced his pace back up to a run as he headed back out of the house. In only moments he had toured for three blocks in all directions scanning all of the buildings with his x-ray vision. In only two of the houses had he discovered large clumps of people. But in both cases when he investigated, they were merely teams from smaller countries gathering before heading to the stadium as a group.

When he finally got back to the spot where he had left the women, he found Var had already returned with Hank.

"Been waiting long?" he asked the older Kryptonian.

"No, while I was waiting I experimented a little with varying how deep I was in 'speed-mode' and slowed it to where I have only been waiting for a couple of seconds. Is the area clear?"

"Yeah," answered Clark. "I searched a three block area and didn't see anything."

"Well, then I guess it is time to rejoin our companions."

Clark nodded and then the pair reverted to 'normal-mode'.

"Okay," began Clark. "You can open your eyes now."

Hank and the two women slowly opened their eyes and then glanced around taking in their surroundings. The motion of their eyes forced Clark to follow suit. When he looked around everything seemed slightly different then when he had been doing his speed mode tour of the neighborhood. Perhaps it was the background noise of birds chirping, leaves rustling, or the faint hint of bands playing in the distance; as compared to the almost complete silence of the altered dimension he had been inhabiting. Or perhaps it was the steady drizzle which was suddenly coating his clothes, hat, and hands. Or perhaps it was something else. Regardless, this sheltered spot behind the house felt a lot drearier than the sunlight-filled bridge of Var's ship.

But then the gloomy mood that was threatening to reassert its hold on Clark was broken by Gretchen.

"Cute hat, Clark," she said with a grin that clearly implied she felt it was anything but 'cute'.

"I'm glad you like it," Clark began with a grin of his own. Then he lifted the hat and coat he had been carrying. "Here's yours. Sorry if they are a little large, but since we only have three tickets for guest seating for the opening ceremonies, you are going to have to wear Whitney's hat and jacket and pretend to be part of the American team."

The grin faded just a little from her face as she accepted the hat and then turned it over in her hands a couple of time before setting it on her head. Immediately, the hat which had been sized for Whitney slid down until it completely covered her forehead and eyebrows and even threaten to cover her eyes.

Clark couldn't help but toss back the 'cute hat' comment as Gretchen tried several different positions and angles for the hat without finding any that truly worked.

Finally she pulled the hat off. "Clark, can you hold this for a minute?" she asked.

Once he had taken the hat, Gretchen turned her back to Marion. "Marion, can you do me a quick braid?"

Marion quickly and efficiently separated Gretchen's long blonde hair into three bundles and wove a simple pattern. After Clark tore a narrow strip from the lining of Whitney's coat to tie of the braid's end, Gretchen wound the braid around the top of her head and then reseated the hat.

After slipping on the oversize jacket and rolling up the sleeves a couple of turns, she did a quick pirouette before turning back towards Clark. Spreading her arms out to her sides, Gretchen executed a small curtsy, and said, "Tada. What do you think? Can I pass for American?"

Clark gave her the once over. The straw hat seemed to work for her much better than it did for him. But then an attractive girl like Gretchen could make almost any article of clothing work.

"Close enough, oh, and if anyone wonders about your accent, tell them your family immigrated to America just after the First World War . . . ah, I mean after the Great War and that you grew up speaking German at home. Growing up with a language other then English spoke at home is common enough in the States that no one should question your accent." Clark mentally kicked himself for the 'First World War' reference. He still remembered his comment to Hank on the first night they had met down in the chateau's dungeon about an upcoming war and now after the events aboard the sinking battleship, Hank also knew about the time machine. Hopefully with all of the excitement of the past few hours, neither Hank, or Marion, or Gretchen would notice his slip of the tongue.

Rather than giving Hank or the others time to think about his comment, Clark handed Hank, Marion, and Var their tickets before continuing, "We should be on our way. The ceremonies start in less than an hour and the American team has already departed for the stadium. We really should try to catch up before the parade of teams begins."

As soon as the others nodded their concurrence, Clark led the way around the side of the house.

Part 2

As Hank led her and Var to their seats, Marion was glad the drizzle had abated for the moment. It had never been hard enough to soak her completely to the bone, but it had been sufficient that many people had been using their umbrellas. If everyone in the stadium was still using theirs it certainly would have spoiled the view.

It had taken them almost twenty minutes to walk to the stadium. Just outside they had passed the staging area for the athletes and Clark and Gretchen had split off to mingle with the American team. It had taken Marion, Hank and their alien guest a further twenty minutes to work their way to their seats. With a mere ten minutes until the start she would have thought they would have been the last to reach their seats, but many others were also straggling in at the last minute.

As they settled into their seats, which were about halfway up and at what would be considered the twenty-yard line if this had been an American football stadium, Marion's eyes swept the stadium. On the opposite side of the stands at mid-field was the dignitaries' box with its wide viewing platform. A number of men in civilian suits and in military attire for the various branches of the German armed forces were milling around. She felt a shiver run through her body at the sight of officers in the dark blue of the German Navy from whose grasp she had escaped only hours before.

Turning her attention down to the field, she saw many white jacketed officials scurrying around getting everything set up for the thousands of athletes who would soon be parading in. Finally, she looked up to top of the stands where hundreds of Nazi flags fluttered in the light breezy. It seemed like she had seen enough of the hated red, white, and black symbols in the past few months to last her a life time. She and Hank were booked to be in Europe for another three weeks, but suddenly she felt the strong urge to return home to the States. While she hadn't spent much time there in the past ten years, now that she and Hank were finally together, she was suddenly ready to settle down and give up the life of high adventure.

For several minutes she allowed herself to daydream about a little white house with a matching picket fence. It wasn't until Hank touched her arm that she noticed the hush which seemed to settle over the crowd and then how everyone seemed to be looking at the large entrance on the south side of the structure. Following their gaze, she spotted Adolf Hitler leading a group of dignitaries out onto the field. They were a long ways away, but she didn't have any problem recognizing his famous light brown military garb. She had really expected he would have been in a civilian suit for this supposedly non-partisan event, but he must be trying to make a point. Or perhaps, she mused, he had been in briefings about events up north in Peenemunde and simply hadn't had time to change.

As she continued to watch, Hitler made his way across the floor of the stadium to the enthusiastic applause of the audience. Half way to the official viewing area, he was met by a young, five or six year old girl in a white dress. Marion shuttered as she watched the little girl perform the straight-armed Nazi salute before presenting him with a small bouquet of white carnations. Marion had heard about the Nazi youth programs, but it still disturbed her to see the reality of the Nazi indoctrination in one so young. Hitler paused to pat the girl on the head in a fatherly manner before accepting the flowers and then preceding on to dignitaries' box.

When Hitler briefly disappeared to make his way up some interior stairs to the box, Marion was finally able to drag her eyes away and once more became aware of her more immediate surroundings. She was sandwiched protectively between Var and Hank with one vacant seat remaining open between Hank and the aisle. Just as the Olympic band struck up the German National anthem to signal Hitler's arrival in his box and the start of the ceremonies, a Luftwaffe Major slid into the vacant seat. As the crowd surged to their feet in honor of the playing of the anthem, Marion took the opportunity to inspect their guest. Like Hank, Horst Eckmann looked to be in his upper thirties or early forties. He was nowhere near as tall as Hank, topping Marion's own five foot eight by a bare inch or two. But at first glance, he projected an image of someone taller, although whether it was due to the gray uniform or his aristocratic bearing, she wasn't sure.

With the close proximity of a German officer, albeit one who was Hank's friend, Marion couldn't prevent her thoughts from returning to her earlier captivity. Were the Nazis still after them? While the anthem continued to play, her eyes danced around the area trying to determine if they were under observation. However it was impossible to tell as the stands were filled with spectators in uniform. And if the Gestapo had people watching them, would they even be in uniform? Anyone from the mother with the two small children three rows in front of them to the elderly couple directly behind them could be there to keep an eye on them.

Slowly Marion forced herself to calm down. There was no reason anyone involved in the events on the battleship or later in Peenemunde would suspect they would head immediately to the opening ceremonies. Hell, unless they flew, everyone involved would still be up north or in the process of making the long drive back to Berlin. And if they were here, she and Hank still had the advantage of the Samson braids. Even now she could feel its power coursing through her body.

Finally, the anthem, which reinforced all of Marion's darkest memories, was finished and the band moved on to the lighter, more uplifting Olympic fanfare. As the crowd started to return to their seats, the Major turned to Hank and extended his hand.

"Doctor Jones, it is good to see you again," the man in uniform began in clear English with only a trace of an accent.

Hank grabbed the offered hand and shook it warmly. "Horst, you are sounding way too formal. Has that gray uniform brainwashed you so soon?"

Eckmann glanced down at his immaculate uniform with its small cluster of ribbons garnered for his years of service in the various South American air forces. "Time passes so fast, Hank. Perhaps too fast, I have already been wearing this uniform for almost eighteen months."

Marion watched Hank nod his head in agreement with the comment about the rapid passage of time. After a moment, he leaned back slightly so Eckmann and Marion could more easily see each other passed him.

"Horst, I would like to present my wife, Marion. Mar, this is my old friend, Major Horst Eckmann."

Eckmann extended his hand passed Hank to Marion. As the German officer leaned closer, Marion got a better look at his face from the light blue eyes to the straight, narrow Prussian nose to the faded blonde hair with a dusting of gray at the temples. Here was a man, thought Marion, who typified the ideal German officer in a way her former captor, Biberach, never could.

After a quick shake of hands, which Marion decided was more polite than friendly, Eckmann turned back to Hank.

"You old dog, where have you been hiding this beauty? You never mentioned her in any of your letters or during our previous meetings."

Marion watched as a big smile swept briefly across Hank's face. It warmed her heart how his fingers automatically sought out and clasped hers.

"Marion and I were friends back in our University days. We lost touch after that until I tracked her down in Tibet a couple of months ago. It didn't take long before we both knew we were meant to be together."

Hank had explained to Marion how he and Horst had worked on several digs together down through the past dozen years. And how Horst would occasionally pass along some artifact he came across in his travels. But while he called the German 'an old friend', their relationship obviously had some limits since Hank didn't go into any details of why he had sought out Marion in Tibet or their subsequent adventure with the Ark of the Covenant.

The first athletic team, the Greeks by long tradition, was starting to make its way into the stadium as the three of them settled down into their seats. Var had taken his seat earlier with the rest of the crowd. During the climb to their seats after separating from Clark and Gretchen, they had decided to pretend Var wasn't with them, but merely the occupant of the adjacent chair. Hank had not wanted to spook Eckmann with too many unknown faces and this would allow Var a little more freedom of movement should it become necessary.

"Hank, I want to thank you for the ticket," continued Eckmann, as the Afghanistan team became the first of forty-seven teams to alphabetically follow the Greek athletes into the stadium before the German host team would bring up the rear of the parade. "I was out of the country earlier in the summer and by the time I got back, it was impossible to get tickets."

"I am glad I could do it, although, truthfully, if we didn't know a couple of the American competitors, we wouldn't have seats either."

"You know some of the competitors?" asked Eckmann.

Hank gave a small shrug and, as Marion listened, a small white lie rolled ever so easily off his tongue. "We are lucky enough to have a couple of really good sprinters at my school. Unfortunately, not everyone has the love of ancient history and antiquities that we do. I am almost ashamed to admit it, but I teach an 'Intro to History' class which is really just an easy 'B' for the football and track jocks at the school on scholarships."

"Don't be embarrassed, Hank," responded Eckmann. "I remember the same thing going on at University over here, too. In fact, I took a few classes like that myself."

The three of them sat in silence while a few more of the teams marched in, circled the outer track once behind the banner proclaiming their country and joined the others in the inner field.

"So, Horst," began Hank getting down to business after what felt like sufficient time had passed to meet the social niceties. "What do you have for me this time?"

"Something unique," began Eckmann as he reached into the deep side pocket of his uniform's jacket. "At least I have never seen anything like it, and I have been through museums and art galleries all over the world."

'Art galleries?' wondered Marion. She thought they were here to pick up some ancient relic from what Clark had said. And few of the broken pieces of pottery Hank had shown her from his personal collection would ever warrant an association with an art gallery. Of course, the better items like the Mayan gold jewelry had been too important and valuable for Hank to keep. So maybe this mysterious object was more along those lines.

But when Eckmann's hand came back out of his pocket, Marion's curiosity was disappointed for a least a moment longer; the object was wrapped in a white silk cloth. All Marion could tell was that the object appeared to be rectangular, about six inches by four inches by a half inch thick.

Marion was glad when Eckmann passed it to Hank to unwrap, because she only had to lean over slightly to have a clear view. Slowly Hank peeled back three layers of silk to reveal the flat object which had a metallic sheen. The color of the metal was sort of a dark shade of silver, but somehow not quite the color of sterling silver seen in most modern jewelry. Yet it didn't have the tarnished look of great age either. No, it looked brand new.

As Hank tilted the object slightly to look at it from different angles, Marion could make out a series of symbols were engraved on the upper surface in circular patterns around two slightly indented areas. The symbols were small enough that she couldn't really make them out while looking over Hank's shoulder.

Next Hank flipped the object over to expose the simple unadorned back. Looking at the various edges, the only irregularity was a small clear crystal embedded in the center of one of the long sides.

Finally, Hank lifted the object up close to his face to peer at the symbols on the top more carefully. When he was done with his initial inspection, he handed it to Marion before turning his attention back to Eckmann.

Marion heard Hank and Eckmann discussing the unknown symbols in the background, but most of her attention was focused on the object. It didn't feel heavy enough to be solid metal, so there must be a hollow space inside, but she didn't see any latches or hidden catches to open it. After turning it over in her hands a couple of times, she spared a quick glance to ensure Hank had Eckmann's full attention and then tilted the object so that Var would have a clear view of the symbols on the upper surface while she performed her own inspection.

At first glance the symbols looked completely unfamiliar and between her father's archeological work and her own extensive travels, she was familiar with a lot of different writing systems. Oh, she couldn't read them all, but she felt confident she would recognize the style if it had been Chinese, Arabic, Hebrew, or even ancient Egyptian and Babylonian hieroglyphs. But the symbols on the object didn't remotely resemble any of those styles.

However Marion did hear the slight change in Var's breathing and when she exchanged a glance with him, he gave the barest of nods. So, she thought as she turned her attention back to the symbols, these must be in Var's language. And armed with that clue, she did recognize a couple as being similar to ones she had seen on the control panel of his ship during their flight back from Peenemunde.

If the object was engraved with symbols of Var's language, what did that mean? She knew Clark, Lana, and Whitney had traveled back in time specifically to recover this object; the whole adventure starting with the chateau and ending with the destruction of the German ships and Peenemunde had never been in their original plans. And from what Hank had told her, Clark and Whitney had been just as surprised at finding Var's ship in the hangar at Peenemunde as he had been. So if this object had some connection with Var or his people or his home planet, it must have something to do with things in the future rather than in the present. She wished Clark was more forthcoming with what was going on, but when she had pressed him he had said that it was dangerous to the timeline if she knew too much about the future. She still had a slowly fading jumble of memories from Lana which had been passed to her when Lana had first bestowed her gift, but they were just random snapshots of Lana's life and didn't clarify the current situation at all.

Marion couldn't help but let out a small sigh as she passed the object back to her husband and tried to turn her attention to his conversation with the German officer; although just for a moment she couldn't keep her thoughts from drifting to Clark's friend Whitney. He had come back here to 1936 Germany to help Clark retrieve this object which would, in some way, help save some of their friends in the future. She knew from her conversations with Lana that he had done it mainly because of his feelings for her even though she was in the process of dumping him for another. Yet he had come along anyway and what had it gotten him? It had gotten him killed. Twice. And both times she had been present and forced to watch. She never would have believed Lana's claim he had been saved from his massive wounds the first time if not for all of the other remarkable things Lana had been able to do. And then the second time when his wound had seemed so minor in comparison and Lana had just let him die. She stared down at the mysterious object currently held lightly in her husband's hands and wondered if it really was worth Whitney's life.

"So where did you acquire the piece?" was what Hank had just asked when Marion rejoined the conversation. Eagerly she leaned forward to hear Eckmann's response. Perhaps they were about to find out if Whitney's life had been given in vain.

"About two months ago I was sent to Timbuktu in southern Sudan," began Eckmann.

"Isn't Sudan under French control?" interjected Hank.

"It is," responded Eckmann with a 'so what is your point' shrug of his shoulders. "The reason I was there is not really germane to this story and it is probably best to just leave it at that. Anyway, Timbuktu is not the legendary sprawling city with streets lined with gold as the stories imply. Oh, it might have been special a thousand years ago, but not any more. Its population is only about thirty thousand and the vast majority of these people reside in mud huts and barely eke out a living. Also the whole region is predominantly Islamic which means the town has only one small bar to cater to the alcoholic needs of visiting foreigners.

"One evening I was sitting in the bar with the only two other patrons, a couple of petroleum engineers from the States, when a stranger showed up. Now, I hope you don't take offense, Hank, but one look at him and I knew he was an archeologist. There is just something about the eyes of all of you guys who spend your lives digging around in the ruins of ancient civilizations.

"All the two engineers ever wanted to talk about was American baseball, so hungry for a distraction, I quickly invited the stranger to join me for a drink. It turned out he was a Scottish professor from Glasgow named Caden McDonald. Ever heard of him?"

Hank grinned. "Red hair, pot belly, always smoking a pipe carved in the shape of a jaguar?"

"Yeah, that's him. So you know him?"

"Yes, we have worked a couple of digs in Peru together. But what was he doing in western Africa? The last time I heard from him he was in Bolivia, I think," responded Hank.

"Apparently, someone affiliated with the University of La Paz thought they had found some archeological evidence of a trading relationship between some of the ancient Andean civilizations and the equally ancient Zingh Empire of Western Africa. Professor McDonald was commissioned to travel to Africa to look for evidence of trading contacts on that side of the ocean. You know things like similarities in pottery styles or coinage, or architectural styles, or craftsman's tools."

Marion's heart seemed to skip a beat, as Eckmann's words brought back memories of the visit, via the strange mental powers of Lana, she had had to the long-lost Jaguar City, the origin site of the El Dorado legends, high in the mountains of the Andes on the shores of Lake Titicaca. She hadn't yet shared with Hank the nearly indescribable things she had experienced when Lana had touched her after they had shared blood. And she wasn't sure if she ever would. Oh, Hank had seen Lana's near miraculous ability to heal from what should have been mortal wounds, but even that knowledge might not be enough to make what she could do with the power of her mind believable.

With Lana's departure through the time machine, Marion had never expected to hear of the Zingh Empire again, but now it had suddenly come up and must have some connection with the object. If Lana's friend, Laura or Chloe or whatever her name was, was truly thousands and thousands of years old, perhaps this object was some powerful device left over from her pre-ice age civilization. With the example of the superhuman abilities grafted into her body, it was impossible to guess what this device might be capable of, or how dangerous it might be.

But then Marion remembered Var's apparent recognition of the symbols engraved the object's exterior. If the object was the remnant of some great pre-ice age culture, how would Var understand the symbols? But if the device was from Var's world, how did it ended up being associated with a conversation about the Zingh civilization? Suddenly her sense of frustration rose to the surface. Everything in her life since meeting these kids from the future seemed to be part of some giant Chinese puzzle box. Every time she opened one box, all it did was expose another equally cryptic box. And she was really getting to hate it.

In her frustration and before thinking things through, Marion interjected into the conversation. "But the symbols on the object have nothing to do with the Zingh writing system, so what is its connection with the Zingh?"

Both men turned to stare at her in surprise.

"You can read Zingh writing?" asked Eckmann.

Trying to pull her foot back out of her mouth, Marion threw out what she hoped would sound like a plausible story, since she could hardly explain that she knew the writing on the object was of alien origin. "My father, Abner Ravenwood, was also an archeologist. His life-long quest was to find the Ark of the Covenant from the Old Testament of the Bible. Most biblical historians believe the Ark's final resting place was in ancient Egypt, but Daddy had found a few legends indicating the Ark had passed from the Egyptians to the Zingh, who were their contemporaries in Western Africa. We, my Daddy and I, spent part of 1924 and most of 1925 working a series of digs near Nouakchott, which is on the Atlantic coast of Africa at least 700 miles west of Timbuktu. I can't read the Zingh dialect, but I saw enough examples on old, long-buried ruins to know it isn't at all similar to what is on this object."

Hank looked like he was going to ask some follow-up questions about her story until she moved her right hand onto his, gave two quick taps with her index finger, paused and gave one more tap. This was one of the codes they had developed during the journey from Tibet to Egypt to allow them to pass messages when they were being observed. The 'two taps followed by one' message simply meant 'follow my lead'. Marion hoped Hank would correctly interpret it to mean she knew more than she could say in front of Eckmann, and that she was certain the object wasn't of Zingh origin.

Marion watched as Hank slowly nodded before saying, "I have heard stories about the Zingh, but I have never done any research into that civilization. However, if you and Abner explored some of their ruins, I believe you when you say the symbology on this artifact is not Zingh."

As Hank swung his attention back to Eckmann, Marion let out what she hoped was an inaudible sigh of relief and then also turned to Eckmann. "Sorry, for the interruption, Horst, but I thought it was important to mention that while I don't recognize the symbols, I am as certain they are not Zingh as I am certain they are not English. Anyway, please continue with your story."

Eckmann stared at Marion for a moment and then shrugged. "Professor McDonald never specifically said this object was Zingh. In fact, he discovered it at a dig, but not in the dig. Wait, let me clarify, he didn't discover it, rather he found it in his tent. He was working in some old ruins about twenty-five miles south of Timbuktu. At the end of one day when he returned to his tent, he discovered it under the pillow on his cot with a note that said in English, 'Sell this artifact to the first German you meet. Tell him you will both be well rewarded for your effort.' Now the professor questioned all the locals who were working for him, but none of them would admit to any knowledge of the object or of any strangers having been in camp. So the artifact sat in his tent for several weeks until he traveled back to Timbuktu for supplies. When we ran into each other in that bar and he told me the strange story of the artifact, I was intrigued enough to buy it from him. Somebody obviously planted it in the Professor's tent and must have known I was the only German in the area. So the object must have been meant to end up in my hands. However once I had it, I wasn't certain what to do with it. But the original note said I would be rewarded, too. And the only one I know who pays me for weird old junk is you, Hank. So I decided I would give you first crack at it."

Marion thought about what the German Major had said and it seemed even more unlikely than claiming the Professor had dug the object up. It almost felt like someone knew in advance how the sequence of events would play out from Professor McDonald to Major Eckmann to Hank. 'Knew in advance', was that the key? Like in 'someone from the future'. Had someone used a time machine to put that object in the Professor's tent knowing it would eventually work its way to them and then on to Clark. Had Clark come from the future to find something else also from the future? It certainly explained why the object looked brand new and not like it was thousands of years old. But why the convoluted route to get it to Clark? Was this whole thing just some game dreamed up by bored kids from the future? Well, if it was, they certainly played hard if they were willing to let Whitney die as part of some game.

Clasping Hank's hand hard enough to get his attention, Marion said, "It seems like someone is trying pretty hard to get this into your hands. I guess you better buy it from Horst and we will have to figure out what to do with it."

Hank nodded and then turned the object over in his hands one more time. "I can offer you five thousand for it, but it will have to be in gold rather than cash."

Eckmann smiled. "Gold is always acceptable. Surely you remember the time back in La Paz when I received the shipment of paper money from Germany as bonus pay for the German members of my squadron, but while it had been in transit the hyperinflation back home had gotten so bad it wasn't worth the paper it was printed on?"

Marion watched as Hank started to laugh. When he finally got himself under control, he turned back to her. "Marion, that night Horst and I ended up drinking chicha in this little dive of a saloon with the men from his squadron. The highlight was using 100 million denomination Deutschmark notes to light our cigars. I have never felt closer to being one of the Rockefellers than I did that night."

Turning back to his German friend, Hank reached into his side coat pocket and pulled out a medium-sized bag which clinked quietly as he handed it over. Briefly Marion wondered where Clark had acquired the bags full of gold coins he had handed over, but then decided money was probably not an issue to someone who had a time machine.

As Hank rewrapped the silver artifact in the silk cloth and stowed it in his pocket which had recently been filled with the gold coins, the three of them settled back into their seats and turned their attention back to the opening ceremonies. The American team had almost completed their procession around the track following the Uruguayans and the Yugoslavs. Now all that remained was the German team and as they began to enter everyone in the stadium surged to their feet cheering. As Marion followed suit, she scanned the American team for signs of Clark and Gretchen.

Part 3

Clark and Gretchen parted from the older members of their party near one of the eastern entrances to the giant stadium and made their way around to the staging area on the open south side. As they approached they could make out the forty-nine roped-off areas each marked with a large sign naming one of the participating countries. The staging area was organized into two parallel rows in the order in which the teams would enter the stadium. Some of the areas like the one for Monaco with only three participants and two coaches looked almost vacant while the ones for the large teams like the Germans and the Americans contained hundreds of people all in matching attire. The American team being last based on the German alphabet and the German team as the host country were the farthest from the stadium entrance. Making their way along the outside of the left row, Clark and Gretchen quietly ducked under the perimeter rope and mingled with the milling crowd of Americans.

As band music drifted out of the nearby stadium, a guy wearing the jacket proclaiming him to be an official with the opening ceremony organizing staff climbed onto a chair directly below the 'United States of America' sign and began calling the team to order. The boisterous crowd began to quiet down and move closer to better hear the instructions. As Clark and Gretchen joined the others, Jesse Owens and Ralph Metcalfe suddenly appeared beside them.

"Clark, where is Whitney?" began Metcalfe in hushed tones. "And where have you been? We have been looking everywhere for you. I think Coach Robertson is about ready to have a cow."

Clark looked over at Metcalfe with Owens standing beside him with an equally expectant expression on his face. Thinking back, Clark realized he should have used some of the copious time he had spent recently in 'speed-mode' to figure out what he was going to say in this situation. He could hardly blurt out the truth that Whitney was lying dead at the bottom of the Baltic in the decimated remains of a secret German battleship.

"Whitney had a family emergency down in Dresden about a hundred miles south of here. We went down there yesterday. I caught the early train back this morning, but Whitney won't be back until tomorrow. He hated to miss the opening ceremonies, but it couldn't be helped," answered Clark. If everything went according to plan, his task here would be finished today and by tomorrow he would be long gone. Hopefully, once the excitement of the games kicked in, everyone would soon forget about Whitney, Lana, and himself.

"Coach Robertson isn't going to be happy that you took off without telling anyone, but I am just glad you are alright," responded Owens. Then with a glance over at Gretchen, who was wearing one of the men's suit coats and hats rather than the attire of the female members of the team, he continued, "Who is your friend?"

"Ah . . . Jesse Owens, Ralph Metcalfe this is Gretchen Unger. She is a friend of mine and she has run into some trouble with the guys in the black uniforms, if you know who I mean. Since Whitney isn't here today, I thought it best to use his jacket and hat to keep her with me. She should be safe for the moment while surrounded by the hundreds of Americans in the ceremony. Afterwards I will have to make over arrangements for her."

Metcalfe shook his head. "Mysterious comings and goings. Friends in trouble with the Gestapo. Clark your life seems closer to a story in a dime-novel than any other athlete I have ever known."

'And you don't even know the half of it,' thought Clark remembering his attempt at a Captain America cover story on the Nazis' flying dreadnought. However, out loud he said, "So are you willing to keep Gretchen's presence a secret?"

Metcalfe and Owens exchanged a glance. After Owens gave a small shrug, Metcalfe nodded. "Sure. We have heard the way they treat people. Why would we want to do anything to help them?"

"Thanks, guys," answered Gretchen, speaking for the first time.

The droning voice of the official, who was issuing the instructions and who almost everyone was ignoring, was abruptly drowned out by cheering and applause from the German team located in the adjacent roped off area. Everyone on the American team seemed to turn as one to see what was going on. At six-four, Clark towered over most of the others and even from their location near the back of the pack he could see what had gotten the Germans all excited. Leading a large entourage down the central lane between the two rows of teams was the man himself, Adolf Hitler. At the moment he was paused by the German team and was shaking a few of the many extended hands. Immediately Clark's mind flashed back to the scene in the final Indiana Jones movie where Indy had come into contact with Hitler in a similar situation and Hitler had autographed his father's Grail diary. He had never asked Hank many details of his real Grail adventure as he was afraid he might give himself away if he inadvertently revealed more knowledge of those events than he should have. But now that Hank and Marion knew about the time machine, maybe he could risk it.

Seeing Hitler step away from the German team and head towards the Americans, Clark considered working his way to the front of the crowd to shake his hand. These time travel adventures certainly seemed to bring him into contact with some of the most powerful men in history. Although he had gotten to know the Roman Emperor Caligula better than he would ever get to know Hitler. But then it had been easier to overlook the atrocities Caligula would eventually commit as he only heard about them second hand from Chloe and Lex. With Hitler it would never be easy with all of the film coverage of the concentration camps and the destruction throughout Europe he would cause. No, Clark was suddenly afraid if he got too close to Hitler he would be tempted to use his powerful heat vision to burn a nice fat hole right through the center of Hitler's head. And while that might be personally satisfying and save untold millions of lives during the next ten years, it would most certainly destroy the timeline and prevent him from ever returning home. It looked like he was going to have to be satisfied with the destruction of Hitler's two superweapons and the large installation at Peenemunde.

"What's going on?" asked Gretchen rising to her toes in an attempt to see passed the crowd.

"Chancellor Hitler is passing by on his way to the stadium," answered Clark as he grabbed Gretchen around the waist and effortlessly lifted her up until her head was slightly above his.

"Thanks, Clark," Gretchen replied as she craned her neck to get a good look at the man who was ultimately responsible for the death of her father.

Hitler did pause to shake hands with a few members of the American team before the Olympic staff members got him moving again towards the stadium. At his nearest approach he was less than thirty feet from where Clark stood and Clark took the opportunity to give him the once over. He found Hitler to be of middling height with a somewhat stocky build. He definitely had a more powerful physical presence than Caligula, but he still seemed a long, long way from the 'Aryan Ideal' he was always ranting about.

When Hitler moved down to the next team in the line and they could only see his back, Clark lowered Gretchen back to the ground.

"Well," began Gretchen allowing an exaggerated shudder to be seen to run through her body. "I think that is as close as I ever want to get to him."

"Yeah, me too," agreed Clark still watching the Nazi's retreating form.

With Hitler and his large entourage of Olympic officials and Nazi party cronies once more out of earshot, the official who had been addressing the American team climbed back onto the chair.

"As I was saying," the man began with a fairly thick German accent. "Once you are in the stadium you will make one lap around the perimeter track before proceeding to your designated spot on the field. Don't worry about finding the right spot, as there will be people to guide you. Oh, and one other thing, as you pass the chancellor's VIP box, the team will, in unison, give the Olympic salute." Here the official paused to demonstrate the salute which involved an upward straight thrust of the right arm at a thirty degree outward angle from the line of march.

"Shit," whispered Metcalfe, "That looks just like the salute those Nazi bastards use."

"Yeah," answered Clark, his voice raised enough so the twenty nearest people heard his response. "What's next? Are they going to want us to goosestep, too?"

At his words, grumblings began to spread among the team members. It only seemed a matter of seconds before an anti-Nazi sentiment had swept through the three hundred plus group.

Pulling his white straw hat off, Clark rested it over his heart. Keeping his voice down even though he had a strong urge to use his 'God-mode' voice, Clark said. "I am not going to give Hitler a fucking Nazi salute. If I have to give him a salute because of the Olympics, it is going to be a good ole American 'hat over the heart' salute."

Clark watched as Owens and Metcalfe exchanged a look and then wordlessly removed their hats and placed them over their hearts. In twos and threes it spread until the entire team was standing there with their hats off.

The official on the chair was still going on about the official Olympic salute even as the nearest members of the American team finally removed their hats, too. At this the official started speaking louder; and the louder he got the thicker his German accent seemed to become. It was only a matter of time before an anonymous member of the team started to boo. As the booing spread, the official was finally forced to step down from the chair and then quickly retreated to a knot of his fellows standing by the German team.

"Well, I think that showed him a little of the American sentiment towards Nazis," said Owens with a grin.

"I think an even better demonstration will come tomorrow during the actual games," grinned Clark as he put his hat back on.

"Amen to that, brother," responded Metcalfe as he donned his own hat. "Amen to that."

- + - + - + - +

As they marched into the stadium, Clark tried to stay focused on the mission, but it was difficult. With one hundred ten thousand cheering fans in the stadium, the situation felt remarkably similar to the day he had spent at the Circus Maximus in ancient Rome, except that crowd had been more than twice as large. Of course, back then he had had the advantage of being able to use some of his true gifts under the cover of being a Greek God. Would the events in this stadium go easier, too, if he used his gifts? Maybe so but unfortunately there were hundreds of movie cameras and probably thousands of still cameras that would record any action on his part for posterity. No, he was going to have to, at least on the surface, maintain his 'normal human' guise.

As his fellow teammates began to wave enthusiastically to the crowd, Clark swept his gaze over the crowd looking for Hank, Marion, and Var. He knew approximately where they were seating and a strong feeling of relief swept over him when he finally spotted them; it had been over forty-five minutes since they had parted and all kinds of terrible possibilities had run through his head. Looking at them more closely, they all seemed to be relaxed and calmly watching the parade of athletes. Sitting next to them was a German officer in the gray uniform of the Luftwaffe, so at least that part of the vision Chloe had passed to him while lying on the floor of the storm cellar had come true. So much had happened since he had been back here in 1936, it suddenly seemed impossible that the events back in the storm cellar had only taken place a week earlier. It certainly felt more like months had passed. But if everything went well, he should be on his way home within hours. God, it would be could to see Chloe and his parents again. Of course, that assumed the artifact he had come to retrieve really was a solution to what was ailing Chloe.

But they had to get through the rest of the opening ceremonies first. Quickly, Clark expanded his view of the stands from his current tight focus on his friends to a wider area which encompassed that entire section. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any more men in uniform in the area around his friends than in any other. Perhaps they were going to get through this after all.

Now that he had their location fixed in his mind, Clark relaxed a little and tried to enjoy the novelty of being in the Olympics. Certainly back home he would never experience this for real, as what would be the point of competing when his abilities so far outstripped humans'? Hoisting a fifty thousand ton battleship a mile into the air suddenly made throwing a javelin in an Olympic competition remarkably trivial.

As the American team reached the far end of the track and began the turn which would bring them to the back straight and the location of Hitler's VIP box, Clark's thoughts of lifting the battleship brought back his conversation with Var during their flight down from Var's ship. He hadn't yet had time to test out Var's suggestion how it might be possible to go so shallow into 'speed-mode' it wouldn't be apparent to outside observers, but still giving him the unique abilities only possible there like flying.

Deciding this was as good of time as any, Clark shifted into speed-mode. As always happened, at first everyone around him seemed frozen in place. Concentrating, Clark gradually managed to reduce his depth in speed-mode. After what felt like several minutes from his perspective, the team members around him slowly started to move. With continued effort, the people around him steadily sped up. As he approached normal speed, the sounds filling the stadium gradually became audible. At first everything sounded like the low bass rumble of distant thunder, but as he slowed down conversely the sound moved up in frequency. After a couple more 'apparent minutes' the sounds were close enough to normal as to be easily recognizable and it also became necessary to start moving so as to stay in-sync with his nearest neighbors. No, he certainly didn't want to appear to suddenly stop moving and cause an incident as others behind him in the close-packed group began running into him.

Steadily as they moved down the back straight of the track, Clark's control at 'shallow speed-mode' improved. By the time they reached the reviewing box, he was able to doff his hat right along with everyone else. Although as he looked up and saw Hitler standing there offering the classic Nazi salute, he was very tempted to move much deeper into speed-mode and pay the man a little visit. Oh, maybe he couldn't kill Hitler without disrupting the timeline, but certainly something simpler like burning off his stupid little mustache wouldn't have dire consequences to the timeline. However when the Americans passed Hitler's position and started putting their hats back on, Clark forced himself to follow suit. He was here to find a cure for Chloe's condition, which was far more important than playing simple mind games with Hitler's head.

When the Americans reached the final turn in the track before exiting it for the infield, the roar of the crowd seemed to increase ten-fold; the hometown German team had entered the stadium. As Clark's eyes were first drawn to the German team and then on to the wildly gesticulating crowd, his mind was for some strange reason drawn back to the first time he had been in this stadium on the day he and Lana and Whitney had first arrived back here in 1936. The trigger was probably thoughts of Whitney. He was the one who had most enjoyed being here and it was impossible to forget how his eyes had lit up when he had realized he had beaten Jesse Owens in a real race. If any of their little party deserved the honor of parading in with the American team, it was Whitney. But Whitney was dead and Lana was gone through the time machine leaving Clark to carry on alone.

As the officials directed them across the infield and formed them up in neat, orderly rows, Clark felt the dark, bleak thoughts which had filled him earlier once more returning. Lex and Chloe were lying on the floor back in the storm cellar near death. Whitney was lying on the floor of the ocean already dead. Lana might still be on her feet, but she was possessed by some ancient evil incarnation of Chloe and was off creating who knew what kind of mischief while he stood here wasting his time enduring some pointless Olympic ceremony. Did Hank already have the artifact they had come for? Could he just whisk them away in 'speed-mode' and be on his way to more urgent tasks?

Clark tried to relax and force the fear knotting his stomach back under control. Could he get an ulcer, he wondered. Hopefully, not, he thought, as a small smile forced its way to the surface. He just had to keep remembering that time only became critical when he returned to the future. If things should come up which delayed his departure by a few hours or even a few days, it shouldn't make any difference. No, the only possible variable was Lana and while the communication device she had used to return her to the future would have dropped her in New York City two days before the events in the storm cellar to allow a visit to Doctor Swann, his was set for the same time. So even if he was delayed here for a few days, it wouldn't give her any appreciable head start.

But he wasn't certain how the time machine was going to behave when he tried to open a portal to the exact same time and place as she did. Would they somehow open simultaneously such that they would step out side-by-side? That certainly seemed like the ideal solution from his perspective. Hank had said she had one of the Samson braids, but if he could get his arms around her, he was certain he could still restrain her even with the braid and all of Chloe's abilities. Then it would just be a matter of finding a place to stow her until Chloe was recovered so she could help him 'deprogram' Lana.

Of course, that presupposed they arrived together. If the time machine didn't or couldn't deliver them together, but instead left them separated by a few minutes or blocks, he might not be able to find her. And that was a very scary thought. If she could gain complete control over the German battleship filled with several thousand officers and sailors in less than twenty-four hours, what could she do in the minimum of forty-eight hours it would be before he could get any help or guidance from Chloe? Forty-eight hours suddenly felt like plenty of time for her to gain complete control over Norad, or Wall Street, or Congress and the President, or maybe all three.

Damn, he had been so focused on saving Chloe and Lex, he had never taken time to think about what Lana on the loose might mean. And if the Sliviuh personality had access to Lana's or Laura's memories, she would know all about his abilities, too. Once he had figured out the limitations of the Samson braids, he had easily defeated the German wearers. But if Sliviuh knew about his extreme speed and his strength and his x-ray and heat visions, she could probably think of ways to nullify his advantages. At least the whole flying thing had developed after their last contact, which left him with one ace up his sleeve. Although when he thought about it, most of her methods of nullifying his speed would also work against his flying as well, unless she decided on some airborne hideout like Air Force One.

Clark shook his head and tried to force his thoughts back onto the current situation. At the moment trying to plan a strategy to use against Sliviuh was just going to drive him crazy; there were simply too many unknowns. He really needed to stop thinking about it and let his subconscious work on it instead.

Looking around, Clark discovered the German team had joined the rest of them in the infield and the program was moving forward. A civilian, dressed in a morning suit complete with tails which looked out-of-date even back here, was giving a stentorian speech in German from a podium up in the VIP box next to Hitler. Since he appeared likely to drone on for awhile, Clark turned his attention back to working on his 'slow speed-mode' abilities. After a couple of minutes of work he had achieved a state where the speaker's voice was only slightly deeper than when he had been listening in 'normal-mode'. Carefully trying not to attract notice, Clark decided to see if he could really appear to hover in mid-air. Slowly, he forced his body to levitate until his feet were one inch above the ground, which should leave enough of the grass above the sides of his shoes to conceal what he was doing.

Holding his position slightly above the ground, Clark let his mind drift back to Chloe and the wonderful times they had spent together. Certainly one of the high spots of his life was the night he and Chloe had spent at her Metropolis University apartment after his return from ancient Rome. Oh, they had had some enjoyable times together back in Rome, but the possibility of being trapped back there permanently had hung like a cloud over things, not to mention Laura inhabiting Lana's body and Lana's mind potentially lost forever. But on the night after his return everything had been perfect. Everyone had made it home safely and Lana's mind had been restored.

From his perspective less than an hour had passed from when the way home had been discovered until his arrival at her apartment. On that wonderful night the enormity of Chloe's sacrifice of living through the last two thousand years for a second time hadn't truly sunk in. In fact he never really comprehended it during the week which passed in Smallville before the hurried departure for 1936 Germany. No, it was only after the little trip to Dresden and the meeting with the pre-Smallville Chloe that some of the aspects of her improbable life started to really sink in. Oh, she had explained about her life many times and they had run into several people in ancient Rome who had known her, but always the 'Chloe' he had known for years had been at his side. It was only after meeting the earlier Chloe who didn't know him that some of the things she had told him started to feel real. In particular the stories about her countless husbands and children had never penetrated his heart until he actually met one of her former families. Somehow he just had never been able to picture Chloe with others any more than he could picture his Mom or Dad being with anyone else before they got together. But now he was coming to understand a little about her life and he wondered how it would change things between them once they were back together. All he knew for certain was that he had never seen her as happy as when she was with the children in Dresden and he hoped someday he would see her looking as happy because of him.

Slowly, as the speaker's amplified German voice droned on through the stadium's loudspeakers, Clark's thoughts turned to the more erotic moments he and Chloe had shared. It seemed like those thoughts had only lasted a moment when he felt a sharp tug on his right hand and a hissed 'Clark'. Quickly he glanced to his right and realized it was Gretchen who had grabbed his hand. And at almost the same moment he realized he had let his mind drift while still in 'slow speed-mode' and he was now hovering more like four inches above the ground instead of his intended one inch.

"Eeek," squeaked Gretchen, as she abruptly released his hand. Then she briefly appeared to stumble, which seemed next to impossible for someone who was standing still.

It only took Clark a moment to realize what had happened; he had been hovering in 'speed-mode' when she touched him and just like events back at the battleship, whatever field his body emitted had abruptly expanded to encompass the girl. And since he was hovering, the field had started to lift her off her feet, too. This was an interesting effect he hadn't considered. It meant anyone who was touching him would appear to fly with him rather than needing to be carried, at least as long as he held the speed down to what his guest could handle. For a second he found himself yearning more than ever to be back with Chloe and able to share this gift with her. How fun would it be to fly to Metropolis or L.A. or New York, or hell even Paris while merely touching hands?

"Clark, you're floating," hissed Gretchen trying not to attract any more attention than possible.

Her whispered words shook him out of his reverie and slowly Clark lowered his body back to the ground knowing a more sudden motion would certainly attract the attention of the nearby athletes. He had to hope since he already towered over almost all of the others that no one had noticed who didn't know him well like Gretchen. From his vast experience over the past year of hiding his abilities, he had come to understand that the human mind always tried to fit unusual things into patterns it already understood. How many times had he used his 'speed mode' to disappear in the blink of an eye, but no one had ever called him on it. No, everyone simply came to the conclusion that he had been gone longer than they realized. So in the same vein, anyone who noticed him levitating would probably come to the conclusion he was merely taller than they had realized.

Once he was back firmly on the ground, Clark leaned over so he could whisper into her ear. "Sorry, about that and thanks for warning me. This speech was getting really boring and I started playing around with this anti-gravity device built into my shoes I picked up from the Vulcans. The Vulcans have this really long technical name for it, but we Americans on the base just call it Flubber."

Gretchen pulled back from him a little and then flashed him an exasperated expression. "I thought the whole point was to get through the day unnoticed. So please, knock off with the toys already. Save them for when we might need them."

Clark threw her one of his sheepish grins, but this time it wasn't just an act. No, Gretchen was right; this was one of those times when he shouldn't be playing around with toys, or more accurately, his gifts.

Turning his attention from Gretchen back to the speaker up in the VIP booth, he realized the speaker was winding down his remarks. He didn't think he had acquired sufficient expertise in German during the week he had been here to understand what the man was saying, but decided instead it was the movement of Hitler to a position closer to speaker which was the real clue.

His German might be virtually non-existent, but he recognized when the speaker announced Hitler's name. The speaker's final words were completely drowned out by the tumultuous applause which filled the stadium at Hitler's introduction. It wasn't until Hitler stepped up to the microphone and motioned for silence that the crowd slowly began to quieten down.

Clark remembered stories of how Hitler could draw stadium-filling crowds during the early days of his political career and then give speeches which could go on literally for hours. He certainly hoped that wouldn't be the case today, he just wanted the ceremony to be over so he could get on to more important things. Therefore he was completely surprised when Hitler spoke a single sentence before retreating from the microphone. Clark didn't realize this was standard protocol for the political leader of the host country and wondered when Hitler immediately joined several uniformed men near the back of the box, if he had just been given word about events at Peenemunde. He remembered stories, although it might just be memories of movie scenes, of how German officers hated to give Hitler bad news during the war. Was that the situation here, he wondered. Did they intentionally wait until Hitler was in the most public of situations before giving him the news?

Clark's attention was closely focused on the Hitler and the others and he found himself wishing he could lip-read German. However, when the band started playing and another wave of applause swept through the stadium and all of his teammates turned and craned their necks in a direction away from the VIP box, his curiosity forced him to turn around, too.

Entering through the main south entrance used by the teams of athletes only a few minutes earlier was a single athlete moving at a slow jog holding the Olympic torch aloft. This was to be one of the lasting traditions the Nazis would bestowed on the Olympics, as this was the first time the Olympic torch had been kindled at the historic ruins of the Temple of Zeus in Olympia, Greece and then run in relays to Berlin. On every day since their arrival, the 'Olympic Press' had included a front page article chronicling the previous day's progress of the torch's continent-spanning odyssey. Each article had been filled with stories of how each country's citizens had turned out in droves to celebrate its visit and how the national leaders had used the opportunity to pledge their support for the Olympic Ideals and World Peace. Clark grinned at the memory of Whitney's remark about the government leaders wanting to be Miss America contestants after Lana had read the 'World Peace' comment for the third morning in a row.

The torch bearer ran the length of the track before proceeding up the long flight of stairs leading to the giant torch at the top of the north side of the stadium. This torch might not have all the high tech features of the torches from games nearer to his own era, but Clark thought its flames were still impressively large and bright on this overcast day.

After one more band number and a performance for Hitler by fifty flag-bearers, the Olympic Oath was recited by a burly German weightlifter. Then to Clark's surprise the teams began to march out while a German choir sang Handel's Hallelujah Chorus. Unlike the long, bloated opening ceremonies of the late twentieth century, this ceremony had lasted just barely over ninety minutes.

The Germans being their typical efficient, officious selves forced the teams to return to their initial staging areas and wait until all of the teams had cleared the stadium before allowing them to go their separate ways. But Clark didn't mind; it gave him a chance to say good-bye to Owens and Metcalfe, although he had to be careful to only imply it was until they would meet up for the first event the following morning. Plus, he didn't mind hanging for a few minutes with the other athletes because it would take awhile for Hank, Marion, and Var to get clear of the stadium anyway. Throughout this time, Clark kept Gretchen's right hand lightly gripped in his left; he was getting a feeling in his gut that his time in Nazi Germany was quickly coming to an end and he didn't want any complications involving something happening to the girl. Although at first, after the 'hovering' incident in the stadium, Gretchen had been skittish about letting him touch her. But after he pointed at how his feet were firmly planted on the ground and then making a show of crossing his heart to convince her there wouldn't be a repeat incident, she had finally let him slide his hand into hers.

As soon as they were cleared to leave the staging area, Clark led Gretchen off in the direction of the eastern entrances of the stadium. When the group had first arrived at the stadium several hours earlier, they had agreed to meet under an easy-to-spot old oak tree in a little park about three hundred feet from the stadium. When they arrived the others were already waiting and from the big grin on Marion's face, Clark felt it was safe to assume they had been successful.

But just to be one hundred percent certain, he had to ask, "Did you get it?"

Hank patted his jacket pocket while giving a grin and a nod. Marion answered with an enthusiastic 'Yes'. Var gave a small nod, but Clark noticed how the older man's eyes continued to sweep the crowd on the lookout for any potential problem. But at this moment Clark was no longer worried about Nazi interference. Now that they had possession of the artifact he had come to procure, wading through a few or even 'a lot' of Nazis to get clear wouldn't bother him in the least. Finally away from the hundreds of prying cameras inside the stadium, thumping a few Gestapo agents probably wouldn't put the timeline to that much risk.

"Good," grinned Clark. "Let's get moving and see if we can find a little less visible spot before heading back to Var's ship."

Gesturing towards a nearby street, Clark shepherded the others away from the crowds still exiting the jammed stadium. In the end they had to walk over ten blocks before they found an empty little alleyway which would shelter them from sight for the necessary few seconds. Shifting deep into 'speed mode', Clark reached out to his sides and clasped one hand from each woman in his hands before willing himself aloft. With the women appearing to levitate along side of him, Clark decided this was much easier than juggling both women in his arms at once.

Before Clark had risen forty feet into the air, Var called out, "Clark, how are you doing that?"

Clark paused his upward motion and looked down at the mostly frozen tableau spread out below him. Everyone visible on the street was frozen in place except for Var who was standing with Hank in his arms in the little hidden alley. Smiling, Clark realized for once he understood more about their gifts than Var did.

It only took a few seconds for him to explain the basic concept to Var of the special field their bodies emitted while in 'speed mode'. Quickly, Var set Hank back on his feet and then clasped Hank's hand and followed Clark into the air.

After one last lingering look at the giant Nazi stadium in the distance, the two men and their three companions soared up into the sky. Faster than any human eye could follow they made their way to Var's ship, whose current hiding place far above the clouds was easily located via the special enhanced senses the two Kryptonians shared.

Part 4

"May I see it?" asked Clark once they were back on the command deck of 'Wegthor's Shadow' and they had returned to 'normal speed'.

Hank only jumped slightly at Clark's words and the realization they were once more back on the alien's spaceship. This must be at least the seventh or eighth time he had experienced the effect since the first time back on the night Clark had rescued him from the chateau. Maybe his body was starting to get used to it. Or maybe his mind was slowly overloading from all the things he had experienced in the past few days. Certainly more strange things had occurred since Marion and he had arrived in Berlin than had occurred during the recovery of the Ark. Had that adventure only been a few months earlier? It suddenly felt years in the past.

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, Hank reached into his coat pocket, pulled out the silk wrapped package, and handed it to Clark.

With an excitement he hadn't felt since Christmas morning when he was seven or eight, Clark slowly peeled back the layers of white silk until the object of his long arduous quest was finally revealed. The artifact, the size of a thin paperback book, was made of some gray metal just as Chloe had described. Looking closer, he discovered the upper surface was engraved with symbols which Chloe's brief description hadn't included. He immediately recognized several as being the same as those found on the exterior of his small ship back home and Var's much larger ship here. This device was most definitely related to Krypton! Now if only he could read the language.

Looking up, Clark turned to Var. "Can you read what it says?"

Var held out his hand. "Let me take a closer look."

Clark handed the device over and watched as Var studied the markings. After a few seconds a quick grin passed over the older Kryptonian's face.

"What is it? What does it say?" Clark asked eagerly.

"Uh? Oh, I was just a little surprised that the message is addressed specifically to me. But then I guess that shouldn't be to surprising after what the German Major explained about what he knew about the device's origin."

Clark was, of course, curious about what the German had said, but certainly not as curious as about the device itself. "So, what does the message say?" he asked again.

Var looked back down at the device and then began speaking in a tone of voice which clearly implied he was speaking the words aloud as he read them again.

"Var-El of Krypton, please upload your memories of the events in the stadium into the house brain at your ancestral home using the memory extraction device created by Shu-El. The memories need to be tagged with security protocol Fedra Seventeen Hatu Six."

Here Var paused for a moment and then looked up at Clark. "Shu-El was my great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather. He was famous in his day as a mathematician, but I don't have any idea what this 'memory extraction device' is. I will have to do some research in the family archives when I get home. And I also, at this moment, have no idea the significance of the security protocol mentioned. Whoever left this message certainly has some detailed knowledge of the El Family."

Before Clark could think of any meaningful response, Var looked back down at the device and started reading again.

"Give the device to the young one and have him place his thumbs in the circles."

Var handed the device back to Clark pointing out the two blank ovals enclosed by the surrounding text. Clark looked the device over again carefully without yet touching the indicated areas.

"Biometrics?" asked Clark.

"I'm sorry, I am not familiar with that term," answered Var.

Clark glanced at Hank and the others and saw equally blank expressions on their faces. It was only then that he remembered that Var's knowledge of English was drawn from 1930s sources and didn't include more modern scientific terms.

"Sorry. Biometrics simply means using something unique to an individual to limit access. In this case I was wondering if the device is designed to check for fingerprints and if it is designed to only open and reveal its secrets at my touch."

Var slowly nodded. "It would seem a reasonable deduction based on the message."

Clark turned his attention back to the device. Carefully, he moved his thumbs over the indicated spots and then pressed down lightly. He expected the action would release some invisible locking mechanism to reveal a secret compartment with a further message.

Therefore he was taken by surprise by the beam of light which abruptly shown out of the crystal embedded in one edge of the device. At the moment he was holding it such that the beam was shining against his chest. Realizing it was an image projector of some sort he quickly reversed it and turned his body so the beam would project on the flat wall separating the control room from Var's personal quarters.

Var also recognized the device's intended purpose and quickly issued a command to the ship's brain to opaque the control room's hemispherical dome. By the time Clark had the device pointed at the wall, the room had plunged from brilliant daylight to shadowy twilight.

From where Clark stood about fifteen feet back from the wall, the device threw an image about five feet tall by five feet wide. At first all that was visible was a white static-filled image with an accompanying audio hiss from the device like you would get on an old TV turned to a channel with no signal. Then slowly, over a period of about ten seconds, it resolved into a profile shot of a kneeling girl. She was wearing a heavy floor length white robe. She had what at first looked like short brunette hair, but as the image cleared it became apparent she had long hair pulled up in a strangely familiar yet very odd style. In the beginning she appeared to be looking down at something on the floor in front of her, but then she looked up in the direction she was facing as she started to speak in an urgent, beseeching tone.

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."

'What the fuck?' thought Clark, as he recognized the famous Princess Leia line from the original 'Star Wars' movie.

The girl in the image repeated the line several more times perfectly mimicking Carrie Fisher's voice and inflection. Finally, after the third time she couldn't stop a grin from forming on her face. With the illusion broken, she climbed to her feet. As she turned to face the camera, she pulled off the brunette wig and then ruffled her right hand through her short blonde hair fluffing it until she finally looked exactly like the Chloe Clark remembered.

"Sorry, about that Clark, but I simply couldn't resist," she began in her normal voice with a happy grin still plastered across her face. Then she took a visible breath and adopted a more serious tone. "These timeloops are very strange, self-generating beasts. Last time we ended up going back in time via a time machine that was only created because we had already used it. This time it started with a vision of the device you are holding and now I end up having to create it and send it back in time to fulfill what I have already seen in the past."

Chloe paused, as if considering her next words. "Since you are still caught in the middle of the loop, there is only a little I can tell you without risking its collapse. Obviously, the Nazis were never meant to have Var's technology, so eliminating all scientific records of his visit and seeing him safely on his way home was your primary purpose back there. However some of the things you have learned including the information about your Kryptonian heritage will become important later."

"Let's see, what else? Oh, yes," continued Chloe as she turned to face where Hank was standing as though she knew exactly where everyone was and probably she did. "Doctor Jones, or is it okay if I call you Hank even though we haven't met, yet? Anyway I just wanted to pass on that I know what happened to the three missing Samson braids. You will have to trust me; they aren't in the Nazis' hands. Oh, and when Var drops you and Marion off back in the States, please take good care of Gretchen." Chloe turned her head slightly towards Gretchen and threw a quick wink. "There is important work in her future in America."

Then Chloe turned her attention back towards Clark. "I wish there was more I could tell you, but all I can say is the next step is to visit Doctor Virgil Swann. He has the next piece of the puzzle to handle things back in the storm cellar."

Chloe paused again, a little longer this time. The picture quality the device created was hardly great, but Clark thought he saw the beginning of tears in her eyes.

"I love you, Clark," she concluded simply before blowing him a kiss. After only a few more seconds the image slowly faded to black.

For a moment there was silence, then Var directed the ship's brain to restore the control room's view of the outside and the room was once more flooded with light.

"Well, it sounds like our next stop is the United States," said Hank to fill the silence. "Things probably were going to get too hot for us in Germany anyway once word of our involvement started to filter out from the survivors at Peenemunde."

"Is there anything you need to retrieve from here before we leave?" asked Var.

Hank thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. "Not me. All that I have back at the hotel are a few changes of clothes. I can wire the hotel from the States to have them shipped back and if the Nazis want to keep them, well, no great loss. What about you dear?"

Marion had barely been listening to the conversation between her husband and Var. Her mind was still focused on the girl she had seen in the message. That had to be the original girl the 'Laura' variant in Lana's mind had been created from. Physically, she looked the same as the girl she had met in Jaguar City and again in her cabin on the Nazi battleship. And there certainly were strong personality similarities, too. She didn't understand the significance of the girl's first comments, but the whole wig thing and strange flowing robe attire were something she could easily expect from Laura. If this girl was truly thousands of years old, and that wasn't any harder to believe than all the unbelievable things she had witnessed during the past three days, then she somehow appeared to have been trapped in the mentality of a sixteen year old the whole time. At least her own interest in playing dress-up games had ended during her teenage years.

"Ah, Marion?" repeated Hank in a slightly louder voice.

Marion shook her head and looked at her husband. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I asked if there was anything you needed to retrieve from here before Var gives us a lift back to the States. I am sure I can get a hold of the hotel from home and have them pack up and ship our clothes."

Marion found her fingers once more toying with her wedding band. "All I need are you and my ring, everything else can easily be replaced if need be." Once more thoughts of her ring brought back memories of the history of this ring that Lana/Laura had shown her. She still didn't know if she would ever reveal her trip to Jaguar City, but it wouldn't hurt to let Hank in on the conversation she had shared with Lana on the first evening they had met back in her hotel room.

"Hank, you only met Lana right near the end and she was very much changed by then; I wish you had had a chance to talk to her when I first met her. She could actually read the inscription on my ring. It was created for a female ruler named Atalaya of an offshoot branch of the Olmec civilization which existed along the north shore of Lake Titicaca around 825 B.C. It definitely explains why it was in the burial mound where you found it."

"What?" asked Hank, surprised by this unexpected revelation from his wife. "How could she possibly read the inscription? There are only a dozen people who have made a study of that long lost civilization and I know them all. Who could a young girl like that be working with that I wouldn't know?"

Marion wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut. How much of the truth should she reveal? But then she thought, 'What the hell, we are standing on an alien spaceship'.

She gestured towards the blank wall where the image of the blonde girl had just been projected. "The girl in the message, I think her name is Chloe, is thousands of years old and she was there." Seeing the look of disbelieve on her husband's face, she continued. "We are standing on an alien spaceship. You saw Lana get shot and almost instantly heal. I don't really understand what we have stumbled into, but if you can believe those things you have seen with your own eyes, you are going to have to trust me about this. I saw more than enough evidence to convince me it is true."

Hank stared at his wife and then slowly nodded his head. Why should it be impossible to believe the girl was thousands of years old? From his own experiences there was Sir Francois des Chesnes di Vanquelin, the seven hundred year old knight who had been the guardian of the grail cup.

"Okay, I believe you. And you are making me wish I had had the chance to talk to her for awhile. It might have greatly helped me in my work."

Marion smiled, as she remembered the tour Laura had given her of Jaguar City. "Hank, Lana and I talked about that long-lost civilization quite a bit when the Germans were first holding us captive. During your digs in South America, did you ever check out a large triangular-shaped island about a half mile from the north shore of Lake Titicaca?"

When Hank shook his head no, Marion continued. "That was where the capital of that civilization was located and according to Lana it was the source of the El Dorado legend. I think we should focus there on your next expedition. I think if I see the terrain first hand, I will be able to locate some hidden treasures Lana mentioned."

Marion watched as Hank's eyes lit up. However she knew her husband well enough to know he was more interested in learning about the lost civilization then he was in any trinkets of gold or silver. Of course, even he couldn't help but be overwhelmed if she could find the secret entrance to the underground labyrinth which housed the Golden Sun Disk of Lemuria.

While the Joneses were holding an almost cryptic conversation about archeology, Gretchen stepped over next to Clark who was still standing with the artifact in his hands and staring blankly at the now empty wall.

"Was that your girlfriend, Clark? The one who you came here to save? She is very beautiful."

Clark heard the girl's words, but almost chose to ignore them as his mind continued to race with the knowledge he did and didn't receive in Chloe's message. Most importantly, he knew he must eventually succeed in his quest to save Chloe or she wouldn't be able to send this message from the future. However she had been so careful about what she said, he couldn't decide if she was really being cautious about wrecking the timeloop like she said or if she was intentionally trying to hide bad news from him. If she could show she was okay by being in the message, then why no mention of the others? Was Lana in the future still running loose under the control of Sliviuh? Or worse, would she be dead? And hadn't they been able to go back and retrieve Whitney from the battleship? And what about Lex? Surely if he had found a way to cure Chloe, it should have worked on Lex, too. So, why no mentioned of him, either?

When he had first seen Chloe's image on the wall he had been so happy, but now he had more questions than ever. He had thought finding the artifact was going to provide him with the solution to Chloe's condition, but it had done nothing of the kind. At the moment he had no more idea how to solve the situation then when he had first stepped through the time machine to come back here. No, with Whitney dead and Lana under the control of Sliviuh, the situation seemed even more hopeless now than back then. The only helpful thing Chloe said was 'Go see Doctor Swann', yet he had known about Swann before he had even come back here to Nazi Germany. Why hadn't they gone to see Doctor Swann first? Maybe then they would have had a solution without even coming to 1936.

But then he remembered about Var being stranded back here and the super-weapons the Nazis had created from his knowledge. His own presence had been needed here as a catalyst to free Var and destroy all useful knowledge the Nazis had of Kryptonian technology. And he also suddenly remembered Chloe's other comment – that things he had learned back here would be important later. So what had he learned? He learned a little more about his special gifts like how to fly in 'speed-mode', how to sense electro-magnetic fields, and most recently how to go so shallowly into 'speed-mode' as to appear able to fly or hover in 'normal-mode'. Were some of those ablilities going to be important in the near future? And how was knowledge of his Kryptonian heritage going to be important? It was nice to finally know a little about the world he came from, but why would that be important to save Chloe?

As he forced himself to turn towards Gretchen to answer her question, he couldn't help but feel almost overwhelmed by all questions jumbled up in his head and how the solution to his problem seemed no closer than ever. Still, at least he knew Chloe was going to be alright. The message certainly could have been even less informative if it had been his Mom rather than Chloe on the screen since he already knew his Mom was okay. Hell, if the message had meant to convey the least possible information about the future, it probably should have been himself up on the wall rather than Chloe.

"Yeah, that was Chloe," he began. Then noticing Whitney's oversize Olympic jacket and straw hat the girl was still wearing, he was reminded of his own attire. Pulling off his white hat, he ran his fingers through his thick black hair before continuing. "So, are you okay with going to the States?"

"There is nothing to keep me in Germany now that my father is dead. The United States is as good as anywhere."

"Have you ever been there before?" asked Clark wondering about Chloe's comment that Gretchen had an important future there.

Gretchen shook her head. "No, I have never been out of Europe. I always wanted to go with my father on his expeditions, but he always said it was too dangerous. Too dangerous. And then the true danger turns out to be right here at home."

Clark watched as the girl's eyes began to tear up. He reached out to her and pulled her into a hug. There had been a few tears the first day after he rescued her from the chateau, but there hadn't been time since as she had been running on one long adrenaline rush ever since. But now he was afraid the reality of her situation might finally be setting in. Her father was dead. For her own safety she was headed to country where she didn't know anyone and all of her friends would have to be left behind. Clark thought he understood her feelings, at least a little. He too was at the moment cut off from everyone he cared about. But his parents were still alive back in the future and if everything went right his friends should be too. No, on second thought, maybe he didn't really understand what Gretchen was feeling.

Loosening his hug, he turned Gretchen so they could make their way over to the others.

"Hank, Marion, are you okay with taking care of Gretchen? I guess after Chloe's remark in the message I assumed Gretchen going with you was a forgone conclusion. But if that doesn't work for you, I will see to other arrangements."

"Of course, Gretchen is welcome to stay with us," announced Marion before shooting a quick look at Hank and getting a nod of concurrence. "It may be a little cramped at first, but I told Hank when I married him that we were going to have to find a bigger place."

Hank grinned. "I don't know if a long time bachelor like me is going to survive suddenly sharing a house with two women. You are going to have to promise not to gang up on me."

"We won't gang up on you, I promise," Marion said with a grin of her own. "Because I don't believe I need any help getting what I want from you. Do I?"

"No, dear," answered Hank adopting the whiny voice you always heard from the downtrodden husband in the movies.

"Can I go with you when you go on archeological expeditions?" asked Gretchen in a slightly hoarse voice as she wiped at the tears running down her face.

"I think after the way you handled the last few days, you should be able to handle a few weeks in South America. Of course, you can only go as long as it doesn't interfere with your school work," stated Marion without even checking with Hank this time for his assent.

Hank turned to Var. "I was going to suggest you drop us at home, but now I think you should drop us in Washington D.C. I have some friends in the State Department and I want to get the paperwork regarding Gretchen's status taken care of as soon as possible."

"Okay," responded Var as he started walking over to his control chair and doing some preliminary calculations in his head. "Since no one needs to do anything else here in Germany, we might as well be on our way. If we lift up out of the atmosphere, we should be able reach Washington in about twenty-five minutes."

As Var went to work with the ship's brain on plotting their course, Clark turned to Hank and Marion. "I guess before we get to America you better tell me everything Major Eckmann told you about where the artifact was found. I need to ensure in the future, Chloe knows exactly where to leave it."

+ - + - + - + - + - +

Even though Clark had never been to Washington before, he found the familiar landmarks from TV and the movies were easy to pick out. As he and Var with the others in-tow dropped down from the great height where they had left Var's ship hovering, the first he recognized was the tall obelisk-shaped spire of Washington's monument standing near the center of the long, relatively narrow green mall. And once he had the mall identified, he easily found the Capitol Building at one end and Lincoln's Memorial at the other. However they had to descend much closer to the ground before he finally was able to spot the White House.

The streets of the central portion of the city surrounding the green mall were lined with massive gray office buildings. These were the headquarters of the various departments of the legislative and executive branches of the government. They weren't exactly identical, but Clark knew he still would never be able to tell the Department of Transportation building from the Department of Commerce building let alone identify the State Department building. Fortunately, Hank had been to D.C. many times before and had explained the State Department building was only a couple of blocks from the Lincoln Memorial and how there were several small groves of trees near that end of the mall which they could use for a discrete arrival.

Approaching the ground, Clark did a quick survey of the mall near the Lincoln Memorial. With the great speed of Var's ship, they had reached Washington within thirty minutes of setting out from the sky above Berlin. Speeding so rapidly across the six time zones separating the two capitol cities meant while it was mid-afternoon when they had left Berlin, it was still only mid-morning on their arrival. The mall wasn't yet filled with tourists on this sunny August morning, however there were more men out and about in suits than Clark expected on a Saturday. But then the five-day, forty-hour workweek that was the norm in Clark's world was not yet a reality in 1936 America. No, even in the government, a five and a half day week was typical.

Spiraling down, Clark found a reasonably thick clump of trees separating the mall proper from a small park which featured a couple of baseball diamonds. The edge of the trees formed the outer limit of the nearest field and as Clark descended into the trees from above he could see a group of little leaguers and their parents gathering around the bleachers for the start of a game.

Several footpaths wound through the trees and with only a little hunting Clark found a spot where their arrival wouldn't be visible to anyone within three hundred feet. After he and Var had eased their passengers to the ground, they dropped out of 'speed-mode'.

"Welcome to America," announced Clark with a sweep of his arm as Hank, Marion, and Gretchen's heads once more jerked rapidly around to take in their surroundings after the abrupt relocation.

Without waiting for a response, Clark headed down the path in the direction which would lead them out of the trees and onto the mall. Immediately upon clearing the trees the first thing Clark saw in the middle distance was Washington's Monument. It soared six hundred feet into the sky and looked like a ten-times-larger scaled up version of the obelisk he had used as a battering ram back in ancient Rome. But this monument would never be put to a similar use; not because of its giant size, but rather because it was an assembly of countless smaller blocks and hadn't been carved from a single block. No, if in the future he ever needed a battering ram of this truly massive scale, he would be better off using something like the German battleship he had lifted clear of the ocean only hours earlier. And if he were to stand that ship on its tail here in the mall like he had done out above the Baltic Sea, its pointed prow would tower two hundred feet above the tip of Washington's Monument.

For a moment Clark was once more struck with the seeming impossibility of what he had done with the battleship. Piecing together the bits of ancient Kryptonian history Var had told him with what Chloe had said about her original civilization, Clark was fairly certain Kryptonians had originally been Earth-borne humans from Chloe's era who had been brought, voluntarily or involuntarily, to Krypton. And to make it possible for them to survive on Krypton, their bodies had been, by some unknown method, extensively altered. He couldn't imagine what technology was involved, but it hardly seemed like the nanotechnology of that era, was advanced as it was, could account for a man being able to fly while lifting 50,000 tons. Was it this conundrum Chloe was referring to when she had mentioned the importance of 'the things you have learned' in her message?

Knowing he wasn't going to find any answers at this moment and hoping his subconscious would find a solution he couldn't presently see, Clark forced his attention back to the present. Sweeping his gaze around to the right, he saw the colonnaded front of the Lincoln Memorial. The marble structure was almost difficult to look at as the blazing sun made it gleam a brilliant white. And Clark felt his spirits lifting although he wasn't sure whether it was more due to the lack of black and gray German military uniforms or the exchange of the gray, drizzly weather of Berlin for the sun-drenched American capitol. Whatever the cause, he was just glad that standing out here in the fresh air under the bright sun suddenly made the rest of Chloe's message seem more upbeat than it had on first hearing in Var's ship. He suddenly felt he had been trying to read too much into her message. Doubtlessly, she had said nothing about the fate of the others for exactly the reason she had stated – so as to not screw up the timeline. Although whatever the motivation for her comments, it was another topic where there was nothing he could do about it except soldier on as best as he could.

Quietly Gretchen stepped up beside him. "It is really beautiful here."

Clark nodded as he turned to look to the left passed the Washington Monument. Unfortunately their current location only gave a limited view of the mall passed the giant monument and they would have to walk at least seventy-five or a hundred feet further out on to the mall to be able to see the Capitol building.

"Yes, it is," answered Clark. "Although from what I have heard the prettiest time of the year is in the spring when the cherry trees are in full blossom. I have never been here then, but I have seen a number of photographs."

"It is very beautiful at that time of year," confirmed Hank, who, with one arm wrapped around his wife, had stepped up on Clark's other side. "You really should try to visit sometime in the spring."

Clark nodded as he realized so much more of the world was suddenly open to him now that he was able to fly. If he and Chloe decided to come for a stroll around the mall and a quick bite of lunch, they could even do it during a school day and still easily make it back for their next class. Of if his Mother wanted to go shopping in Paris or Rome or Milan, it could be a simple afternoon junket. And at that moment, he knew he was going to tour more of the world than he had ever dreamed before this latest adventure.

Turning to face Clark, Hank stuck out his hand. "Clark, I don't know if I ever properly said thank you for getting me out of that dungeon. If you hadn't come along, I don't know what would have happened, but I don't think it would have ended pleasantly."

Clark took Hank's hand and gave it a firm shake. "You're welcome; although without your help, my dealings with the Germans wouldn't have been nearly as easy. And not to mention your help in acquiring the artifact I originally came for."

As soon as the two men's hands came apart, Gretchen pulled Clark around into a hug. "And thank you for saving me from the dungeon, too."

Clark carefully returned the hug. "I am just sorry I wasn't around in time to save your father."

Gretchen nodded as tears began to fill her eyes. "I'll miss you, Clark."

Clark felt his own eyes misting up as the girl stepped back and Marion took her place. "I'm sorry about your friends, Clark," she said quietly.

Clark knew things weren't as grim yet as they probably appeared to Marion. Not wanting to leave her with only dark memories of their encounter, he answered. "Hopefully when I catch up to Lana I will be able to figure out someway to restore her original personality. And truthfully, this isn't even the first time something like this has happened to her."

And as he said the words it was like a light bulb went off in his head – IT WASN'T THE FIRST TIME IT HAD HAPPENED TO HER. When they had returned from ancient Rome, Chloe had used a special little black box which had effectively done a hard reset on Lana's bot system and wiped the memory units clean. Doing the same thing now might cost Lana some of her memories of the past few weeks, and it might destroy the copy of Laura in her system, but as a last resort it should wipe out Sliviuh, too.

At the moment it was only a glimmer of a possible solution, but it certainly seemed worthy of a lot more thought and planning. However for now, he needed to keep his attention on the moment.

"And as for Whitney, well, I do have a time machine. With a little, okay, a lot of luck I should be able to go back to the battleship and save him. But first I need to figure out how to save Chloe, as she is the time machine expert."

As Marion began to pull away after giving him one final hug, Clark could see the relief in her eyes; she had understood and accepted the possibility that Clark's two friends might be alright. 'Now,' thought Clark, 'I just need to achieve that same level of certainty in my own mind.'

The three who were staying behind in Washington then shook hands with Var. They had all spent far less time with Var particularly in life-or-death situations than they had with Clark and therefore things remained a lot more formal.

With the five of them standing in two distinct groups, Hank glanced up at the sky. "Well, we really should be on our way. Most of the offices around here will start closing down in a couple of hours and we have a lot to get down."

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Clark. "I mean money and a place to stay. I am sure I can scrounge up some extra cash if you need it."

"Thanks for the offer, Clark," answered Hank with a shake of his head. "But we will be fine. I have several acquaintances at Georgetown University who will be happy to put us up for a couple of days."

"Good," responded Clark. And then he remembered the one thing he had been curious about ever since he had been back here, but had been afraid to ask in case it raised questions he couldn't answer. But since he might never see the Joneses again, he couldn't help but ask it now. "Oh, and Hank, does the name Indiana mean anything special to you?"

Without even a moment's hesitation, Hank shook his head as Clark watched. "Beyond the state of that name? No, why do you ask?"

"Someone I knew a long time ago mentioned it in association with you and I have always been curious."

Hank shook his head again. "Sorry, but I still don't recollect anyone using that name."

Clark shrugged. So the whole Indiana Jones name must have been some fabrication of George Lucas'. "No, biggie. As I said, it was just mentioned in passing."

After Hank gave a matching shrug, his small party started to move away. Before they were out of earshot, Marion turned back and called out a final, "I'll never forget you or the time I got to spend with your friends."

Clark and Var waved until the others turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Then after a couple of minutes of companionable silence, Var brought up an idea which had been playing in his mind for awhile.

"Clark, before you return to your own time, would you be interested in accompanying me back to Krypton for a short visit? If I understand the theory behind how your time machine works, whether you head back now or delay your departure by a few weeks, in the end you will arrive back home at exactly the same time."

Clark had dreamed about visiting his homeworld a lot, particularly in the past eighteen hours since he had met Var. How could he forget the dream or hallucination or whatever it was he had experienced while down in the driveshaft tunnel? But in that dream Chloe had been with him. Would it ever be possible for Chloe to join him for a real visit to Krypton? It certainly seemed unlikely if people required abilities like his merely to seem normal there.

So Var's offer seemed like a dream come true, at least until Clark considered the downside, and he seemed to have encountered a lot of downside in the passed week. What if something happened which left him stranded there with no way back to save his friends? Var had been stranded here for two years before his ship had been ready for the return attempt. What if he ended up stuck there for years or even longer?

Finally, Clark shook his head. "I think I am going to have to pass this time, Var. My friends are counting on me. Chloe and Lex are dying. Whitney is dead. Lana is possessed by some ancient evil personality of Chloe's. No, what if something happens and I am stranded on Krypton? I mean you have been stuck here for two years. What if something like that or worse happens? Who is going to help them then? Chloe has been working on a much more powerful power source for the time machine which would hopefully have the range to reach Krypton, but it is still months from completion and that assumes Chloe is available to supervise the work."

When Clark finally wound down, Var understood that in Clark's mind a trip to Krypton fell in the category of personal pleasure and helping his friends had to come first. Var considered for a moment reminding Clark that his friend Chloe's presence in the message showed he would ultimately make it home safely. But then he remembered the true reason he had been stranded here for two years. It was not because of any defect in his teleportation drive that he was stranded here, but rather he had been stranded because of a direct hit by a missile from a Kryptonian Defense Force Cruiser. And just because he had been gone for two years didn't mean they were suddenly going to love him on his return. No, if they didn't try to destroy him on sight, there was still the very real possibility they would attempt to confiscate his ship. Perhaps Clark was right about ending up stranded on Krypton. Var could suddenly imagine it taking years to build another system capable of teleportation across true interstellar distances.

"Well, Clark, when you put it that way, you may be right. I haven't been stranded here because of a problem with my drive system or any other component of my ship. The reason I have been stranded is because my own people tried to shoot me down. And I am not certain I am going to get a warmer reception on my return."

"Your own people?" asked Clark in surprise. This was something Var hadn't mentioned before. "Why would your people try to shoot you down?"

"Based on a lot of data I have collected over the past few years as well as trends in data stretching back a thousand years, I project a bleak future for Krypton. I have been before the ruling council of Krypton to explain my theory, but they don't want to hear it. After I discussed my plan to look for a new world to resettle the population, they tried to confiscation my ship. In the end I had to make a run for it and it was a near thing. I mean you have seen the damage to the hull of my ship caused by one of their missiles."

Clark knew Chloe had back-traced his little ship's trajectory from the day he had crash-landed in Smallville. She had discovered the path eventually intersected with a destroyed planet. Maybe at last he was about to find out what had happened to Krypton.

"Var, what does your data show about Krypton's future? I mean I showed up on Earth all alone and have never met anyone else from Krypton. We have found astronomical data which indicates something catastrophic. Please, I need to know."

Var suddenly was afraid he had already said more than he should have. Clark and his friend Chloe were trying hard to close this timeloop without changing their own present. But wasn't the remaining years of Krypton's existence, by similarity, another large timeloop from Clark's perspective? Would telling Clark what he guessed from his data chance disrupting that loop? Perhaps it was Krypton's destiny to be destroyed and take her civilization with her. Maybe he had been taking the wrong tack in trying to save the whole population and should instead focus on saving a select few. And that route would let him fly under the Council's radar and at least save the seed necessary for the rise of a new Kryptonian civilization in some distant future.

"I am sorry, Clark. I think your friend in the message is right. Too much knowledge about the future is a dangerous thing. I may have already said more than I should."

Clark looked into the older man's eyes and realized he wouldn't budge on this topic. He could understand his rationale in the same way he could understand Chloe's, but understanding didn't make it any easier. It seemed like there was so much he could achieve with his great gifts, if only he knew what was going on. But at every turn his friends forced him to work in the dark. Damn, life could be so frustrating.

Var could almost read what was going on in Clark's mind from the expression playing across his face. Slowly he turned and reached out to clasp his hands on the younger man's shoulders.

"Clark, I know it's hard feeling that you have all of the special abilities available to us here and yet not have the information necessary to know what is the best thing to do. But that's the way life is for everyone, special abilities or not. All we can do is make the best choices possible at the time and keep moving forward."

Clark felt his eyes tearing up although he wasn't sure if it was due to Var's imminent departure or something else. "I am hardly the poster boy for good choices. Look at what happened back on the battleship. If I had rescued the girls rather than letting Hank and Whitney do it, Whitney would still be alive and Lana wouldn't have disappeared through the time machine."

Perhaps they were getting to the core of what was bothering Clark, thought Var. "Clark sometimes you can't do everything yourself. How would you feel if Chloe was in trouble and every time you wanted to do something to help, I stepped in and told you to wait patiently in the corner while I handled it? Eventually, you would come to resent me. Hank, Whitney, and everyone else here may not have our abilities but nevertheless have the same need to be part of the solution to problems as we do. Sometimes you have to let them look out for themselves or they will come to hate you, even if it means risking their lives. I know it is a hard thing to face, but is part of growing up and becoming an adult."

Clark nodded and knew Var was right, but still couldn't prevent a single tear from running down his cheek.

"Are you going to be okay?" asked Var.

Clark took a step back and wiped at the tear. "Yeah, it's just hard going through all that has happened in the past week and I still don't feel any closer to finding a solution to Chloe's condition."

"I know it's difficult, but I know you will find the answer. Just remember your friend in the message. If there wasn't a solution, she couldn't have sent it. I think you need to keep that in mind."

"So, I guess this is good-bye," stated Clark trying to get into the more positive mindset Var suggested by repeating to himself in his head 'Chloe is going to be okay since she was in the message'.

"Yeah," said the older man. "You have things to do up in the future and it has been two long years since I have seen Salva and my children."

Clark chastised himself for wallowing in his concerns. It was only a week since he had seen Chloe and Lex in good health, a few days since he had seen Lana and a few hours since he had seen Whitney. Var had gone two years without seeing his family.

Sticking out his hand, Clark answered. "It has been a pleasure to know you. I didn't know anything about where I was from, about Krypton, until I met you. Thank you so very much for the information you have been able to share. You will never know how much it means to me."

Var took the offered hand, but then pulled Clark into a hug. "Don't make it sound so final. I have a teleportation device and you have a time machine. It is a strange universe we live in. I have a strong sense our paths will cross again."

When Clark heard Var's words the strangest shiver he ever remembered went down his spine. He, too, had the sense they would meet again, but he couldn't get out of his mind a quick shimmer of dread. Not sure of its meaning, he quickly quashed the thought. Stepping back, he bid the older Kryptonian farewell with a quick, "Say hello to your family from me."

With a small nod of his head, Var said good-bye and then shifted into 'speed-mode' and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Clark considered shifting into 'speed-mode' to follow his friend's departure, but then decided there wasn't any point in stretching out the moment. By the time he turned his gaze up to the sky and located the tiny dot with his powerful vision, the ship was already beginning to move. Rapidly it began to accelerate and then abruptly he knew it was gone, more from the absence of its drive signature in his special senses than from losing it from visual sight.

After a few seconds Clark lowered his gaze from the sky and once more swept it across the mall. For a moment he considered taking a little time to tour the nearby monuments before his return trip to the future, but in the end decided against it. They would all still be here when he got back home and it would be a lot more fun touring them with Chloe along than doing it alone, as doubtlessly she would have some personal anecdotes about either their construction or more probably about the men they honored.

Stepping back into the shelter of the grove of trees, Clark pulled out his communication device. Thumbing it on, he said in a clear voice, "Back to the Future".

Almost immediately as the green doorway formed in front of him, he felt the first nauseating effect of the meteor rocks which made the Portal Device possible. While waiting for the doorway to finish solidifying, Clark decided it was time for a more appropriate name for the meteor rocks. Assuming since they had arrived with him that they were also from Krypton, the most appropriate name which popped into his head was 'Kryptonite'.

With the green Kryptonite-powered doorway fully formed there wasn't any excuse for not proceeding through. Although he most certainly wished that there was, as passage through the machine was the most horrifically painful thing he had ever experienced as it felt like the Kryptonite was ripping his body apart, atom-by-atom. And to make matters worse, this was his first time going through alone without anyone to look out for him on the far side when he was most vulnerable. No, this time the only one who might be on the far side was Sliviuh. Suddenly, as he remembered how completely incapacitated he was after passing through the machine, his earlier plan to simply pull her into a bear hug if they happened to materialize at the same time seemed completely laughable. But whether he went through now or in an hour or a day, the risk would be the same.

After patting down the pockets of the Blue Olympic blazer he still wore to ensure the photos of Lana, Whitney, and himself on their first day at the Olympic Trials were still there, he took one last deep breath to prepare himself. Then with a determined stride, Clark stepped into the device.

End of Chapter 20

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Duane