-- Epilogue --
Far from Earth, on a desert world not frequented by any but the most disreputable of creatures, a small band of criminals, rebels, and pirates gathered for a meeting none of them had initiated. A female biped made her way to the front of the room and turned to face the gathering. She threw back her hood, revealing long black hair and icy blue eyes. "You were summoned here by my master because you share a common enmity. Each of you represent a group which has been wrong or even ignored by the current galactic government. You are the dissenting minority. My master would like to organize you into a cohesive force of anarchy. He would like to fund you, and then wield you against your common enemy."
One of the aliens, an armored creature with dreadlock like projections extending from all the surfaces of it's body, cleared its throat. "Why will we follow this anonymous backer?"
"Because he has the information, the money, and the access to make this work. I am his champion, his Eradicator."
The group of aliens all started talking at once. Some dropped back fearfully. "The Eradicator of worlds, Armageddon in a neat package, I'm honored to make your acquaintance," the dreadlock alien shouted over the din. "Where do I sign on?"
The Eradicator calmly jacked into the communication system of her ship. "Kal-El, the meeting went well. Most though not all the representatives were very receptive. Some needed to speak with their contingency before a decision could be made. Your army is coming together."
"Very well done, Eradicator. Things will be slowing down a bit for now. Guerilla warfare is about the organization. We don't need your kind of firepower at the moment."
"You do have a plan for me though, correct?" The Eradicator knew a moments fear. Was Kal-El going to punish her now? Would he cut her off?
"I do have a mission for you. I want you to take as long as you need, to find your own mission. Consider it a quest. It doesn't matter what you choose or why, but at the end I expect you to choose yourself a name. I'm tired of referring to you as the Eradicator. A given name for a sentient being should not involve an article. Until you complete this task to my satisfaction, you can't be my champion. You stopped being an Eradicator a long time ago."
Kal-El abandoned his connection with the Eradicator and reveled in his first success. Anarchy agreed with him. As for the Eradicator, he wasn't trying to punish her, whatever it seemed like from her perspective. He'd come to feel almost paternal toward her and her trek toward true sentience. She needed to grow, independent of commands from anyone.
A twinge from the council chamber summoned Kal-El from his extracurricular activities. Dessa was back with a new proposition requiring his vote. To torture the lady in blue or not? Kal-El mentally grinned. Torture was always the fun option.
"My Fortress of Solitude, sounds pretentious doesn't it?" Clark sat with his arms crossed over his knees and his friend Lola resting on the back of his palm. She was drawing a delicate tendril of energy from him leaving his hand just slightly cold. "I like it up here though. It's a safe place, good for thinking."
"For a change you're not constantly flashing me images of some girl, so I guess you are thinking."
Clark frowned at Lola and shook his head. "I'm an adolescent, expect the girl thoughts. I can't help it. Aren't you curious about what I'm contemplating? I'm telling you anyway, because I'll need your help."
"What, do you need some useless trivia on Krypton? Perhaps you'd like to learn the planetary anthem?"
Clark laughed and shook his head. "Not exactly what I had in mind. I was remembering something today. Chloe told me about meteor mutants before she left for Metropolis, and I remembered Kryptonite. I remembered you telling me what it was and what it was doing to humans. Then I had this crazy idea that you could teach me how to fight Kryptonite so it can't hurt anyone anymore."
"Not a crazy idea, but it is a dangerous one. Why this sudden resolve? Wouldn't you rather spend your summer trying to remember and just get things back together?"
Clark looked up at the stars, a place he'd had a glimpse of up close. "No, that's what I've been telling everyone who asks, but I really need something to keep me busy. A distraction from everyone trying to jog a memory out of me might save my sanity." Dinner was still fresh in his mind. No one tried to make him uncomfortable or self-conscious, but his parents had this hopeful searching look they kept leveling him with. He almost felt like he didn't belong here at all. "Can you help?"
"Before I was a two-bit general library, I was some mad powerful red kryptonite. I could teach you to change Kryptonite to Kryptonium. It's a little change, a tweak. It's also a dangerous choice in profession for someone with your weaknesses."
"Thanks Lola." Clark tossed the little rock in the air and pocketed her, effectively ignoring her warnings. "We can get started tonight. I have an e-mail to write first. I promised Chloe I'd write every day."
"Should have known it was a temporary reprieve from the constant girl thoughts. How long will adolescence last? Another couple of years?"
A simple dossier folded into a manila folder and stamped classified rested on an otherwise clean mahogany desk. Lex sat forward at his desk, his fingers steepled under his chin. Every odd occurrence centered on Clark, every bit of evidence that Clark wasn't just another boy with bad luck, was compiled in that folder. An unnecessary fire was simmering in the fireplace across the room and if he wanted, Lex could toss the file. He could choose to let it go, to let it die. Maybe he could really let this go?
Instead, Lex opened the file and stared down at the top page, a glossy eight by ten of Clark with his father delivering produce. God, part of him wanted to let this go. "How am I supposed to function and make the right choices when I don't have all the pieces to the puzzle I'm manipulating?" Maybe the Kents would never see their way clear to telling him the truth, but that didn't mean he couldn't figure it out on his own. Besides, Clark didn't actually remember asking him to leave it alone.
Closing the folder, Lex slid the dossier safely into one of the locking drawers on his desk. Maybe he should continue his association with the psychic, Jon Fisk. That man was talented, and Lex had the means to get him on the payroll in a permanent way. There were a lot of options open to him, and all of them led to the truth.
The End of Book 1 -- The Lost
