-- Chapter 26 -- Going Once, Twice --
"Wouldn't it be lovely to own something truly, utterly, unique in the universe? Wouldn't it be lovely to possess the last of the Kryptonians, the stuffy bastards who ostentatiously dangled their technology but never really shared? You can have it. You can have him, the last Kryptonian in the universe." Aislinn gave the nearly silent assemblage of aliens a chance to think about her pitch. She adjusted the soft yellow folds of her robes and grinned wickedly. The creamy yellow made her red skin seem harsh and garish. "We will be starting the bidding at one million Xinian credits."
Clark stared out of his tiny spherical prison at the gathering of aliens. It was a zoo, a menagerie, out there. They were bidding on him. He was a possession, an oddity, an animal. It didn't really matter what he knew or remembered. Whoever bought him would probably freeze dry him. Clark imagined what one of the aliens, a purplish feathered being, would do with him. Purple-feather-guy would be standing around with a flock of his own kind. They'd be sipping drinks, pecking at bird seed, and chatting about the big ugly freeze dried alien in the center of the room.
Scratch that fantasy. The purple alien seemed to have dropped out of the bidding. One of the big guys was still going at it aggressively. A memory sparked and Clark immediately dubbed the big guy, Jabba. He wasn't absolutely sure about the reference, but it felt right. He hoped that guy didn't win. Clark couldn't help imagining that big Jabba just wanted to buy him for a snack.
The other bidders were fading back too. It looked like it was between big gray Jabba and a little crustacean-guy. Come on little crustacean-guy, Clark found himself cheering internally. Come on little guy. Little guy wasn't bidding... Why had he stopped bidding? Don't let Jabba win little guy!
"You're giving this once in a lifetime opportunity up? Someone here has a billion Xinian credits lying around. Are you really going to let this go so easy?" Aislinn purred.
Someone in the back, a medium sized alien dressed in a black hood and robe, began bidding. Clark dubbed the new player, the grim reaper. Suddenly he wasn't sure who he wanted to win, Jabba or Death himself. Why couldn't there be a nice alien with two arms and two legs, one nose and one mouth bidding on him? Maybe a little fuzzy friendly creature with deep pockets?
It was Death's turn to bid, but nothing was happening, despite Ailsinn's coaxing voice. "I grow tired of this degrading auction. You see I haven't the money to pay anyway," the grim reaper from the back said. With a flourish, he discarded the thick black robe.
Death herself, Clark corrected internally. She had two eyes, one mouth, plenty of black hair... God, maybe he really wasn't unique? Like a streak of lightening she flew at the big guy, Jabba. With an efficient twisting motion, she separated his head from his body. Jabba bled green, like a slug in a slow steady eruption. "Ouch," Clark whispered.
"You have all forgotten what a Kryptonian is. They are power, and knowledge, and they control the greatest killing machines ever created, the Eradicators," his Grim Reaper announced. "I would suggest you run, before I kill you all for supposing to own a Kryptonian."
Aislinn couldn't quite believe how fast the room emptied. One moment, earlier she'd been planning her retirement with a billion Xinian credits, now she had nothing, but a dead Dexian on her hands and a possible death warrant at the hand of an Eradicator. "Should have known it was too good to be true. I should have known."
The Eradicator hammered her fist into the power source under Clark's containment sphere. The contraption failed and spilled its contents into the floor. "Should I kill her," The Eradicator asked. She took a couple of steps toward the sniveling prostitute. Pure hot hate boiled inside the Eradicator for the mercenary slut. "She touched you didn't she. She had no right to touch you. I will kill her if she even touched you."
Clark came to his feet and grabbed the new woman by the arm. "Don't kill her. Aislinn did help me a little. She did a bad thing, but she doesn't deserve to die for it."
"Doesn't she?" The Eradicator pulled Aislinn to her feet. The slut had to have touched him, her Clark. "At least let me hurt her a little."
Clark didn't answer the last question. A little blue rock had emerged from the Eradicator's discarded cloak, and it was hovering in front of him. "Do you remember me, friend? It's Lola, your companion, your Kryptonium."
"Lola, from when I woke up? I thought I was completely insane," Clark whispered. He wrapped his hand around the rock and was rewarded by a flash of music, warm and joyful. "Does that mean you missed me? I'm sorry, Lola. I don't remember you or your friend here." Clark finally noticed that the Eradicator had begun to pummel Aislinn. "Hey! I told you not to kill her."
The Eradicator looked over her shoulder and grinned at Clark. "You didn't tell me I couldn't hurt her a little."
Clark stared down at the unconscious woman, his sort-of-benefactress. Her face was beginning to swell and he couldn't help feeling guilty for her state, even after all she'd done. "Just leave her alone, okay?" It was impossible to look away from his rescuer. She was like him, exactly like him. He wasn't alone. "I guess she was wrong about me being the last of my kind. I'm so glad to see you."
The Eradicator didn't respond to that statement until she had the chance to properly analyze it. He didn't remember her, or Lola, or probably much of anything from the way he was behaving. It was disheartening, but not unexpected. "Unfortunately, I am only an Eradicator, a weapon. You are the last of your kind, well except for one other." She grinned. "Kal-El remains as well."
"I should meet Kal-El then." Clark paused and looked from the rock in his palm, to the Eradicator and grinned sheepishly. "Just by the way, have either of you heard of a place called Earth?"
Kal-El watched silently as the skeletal snake, Dessa, petitioned at his terminal for an audience. As a rule, she was always calm and composed from her bluish lips to her powder white toes. He'd never seen her lose her cool or patience. Today she was twitching, though. Oh, for lips to grin with. Should he let her continue to wait? The frustration was just so pleasant to watch.
"Councilman Kal-El, please respond," Dessa said. Her voice was brittle and anger laced through her every syllable. "Without your vote, we cannot proceed with the new intergalactic trade route proposition. Yay or nay it makes no matter, just vote. I beg you."
Angry today, eh? I prefer fear...
Dessa restrained herself from staring into the mechanical sensors she knew were watching her, transmitting her countenance to Kal-El. He enjoyed exercising his powers in moments like this, slowing the system as best he could, but more than anything he liked to make her wait. He made her wait for twelve days the last time a vote came down to his decision. That wasn't even the point though. This wasn't just a matter of her convenience. It was never just waiting... Without warning, the lighting in the cavernous room extinguished.
The Bastard was at it again. It was only with a supreme effort of will that Dessa maintained a semblance of her composure. The darkness seemed so thick and impenetrable. It probably hadn't taken Kal-El long to discover the most effective way to torture her: manipulate fears drummed into her by a billion years of evolution. It didn't matter that she intellectually knew the darkness wasn't dangerous. There was nothing lurking in these shadows waiting to make a meal of her. Those ancient genes would not be denied their survival instinct. Goddess, why hadn't she foreseen this possibility? Retribution was something she had anticipated, some rudeness, perhaps a termination of her role with the Over Council. Daily unending torture though...? The darkness was too much. Her species was not psychologically equipped for this. It had to end.
"I'll resign then," Dessa said. The words sounded strange in her ears. The Over Council had been her life for so long that she wasn't sure what her life would be without it. "Perhaps things will flow more smoothly without the aggravation of my presence."
That out is too easy, girl. "I forbid it. You can't abandon your post unless dismissed, and I've only just begun to enjoy myself."
Then came the music. It rolled softly into the room, casting echoes into the pitch blackness. Dessa shut her eyes and imagined that there was light on the other side of her eyelids. It seemed like an eternity passed without a spark of light, without a sound except for the delicate music. He wasn't going to let her go then... Part of her was glad. Part of her couldn't stand the thought of leaving, but the more rational voice in her understood that she should be afraid. One of the most powerful people in the galaxy hated her so much that he couldn't stand to lose his daily torture of her.
"My biological mother wrote that. She called it her Ode to Freedom. A talented lady, wasn't she?" Kal-El whispered. The song was gone, and the lights slowly returned
Show no fear, Dessa commanded herself curtly. "Your vote, then?"
"My vote... I forget the subject. Couldn't it wait a bit? I'm rather enjoying myself at the moment." Kal-El dutifully filtered the glee out of his voice.
Now draped securely in the Eradicator's voluminous cloak, Clark stepped back outside for the first time since Ailsinn first took him off the streets. The Eradicator had brushed aside his questions, encouraging him to save them for Kal-El. He could wait. "Where to?"
"Follow me. We'll be running, fast as possible. Hopefully we won't be noticed. If you're recognized and someone tries anything, let me handle it. Understand?"
Clark was still nodding, when the Eradicator started running. He had to really book to keep from losing her. Faster, faster, Clark grinned to himself. This felt familiar, comfortable. The world was so slow that it was frozen in place, and the energy burning him, speeding him through the world, was a joyful intoxication. Why would you ever slow back down?
"Because you could die in this place, if you ran out of energy," Lola said. "Strong, fast, intelligent, but you aren't a God. Know your limitations."
Unconsciously, Clark slowed a step. "Oh, I see." Not a God, but almost unique, it would be nice to just know exactly what he was supposed to be. Kal-El was supposed to have answers. Maybe this other Kryptonian, would be the friend Aislinn had pretended to be. Clark could keep from hoping that he was running toward a brother and an ally.
