-- Chapter 9 -- Tantalize --
One emotion that the Eradicator had come to truly enjoy was fear. She had initially confused it with pleasure or joy because she found it so stimulating, but it was different. Standing before Kal-El, the one being in the galaxy she was bound to obey, she felt lovely intoxicating emotions. She felt pleasure and attraction and awe. Most deliciously, she savored the fear. It was fear for her life; he could take that in a thought. It was fear for their association and the possibility of its termination. Mostly it was fear of the feelings she found he could bring alive inside her. She felt more out of control and un-machinelike standing in his presence than anywhere else in the universe.
"You seem well." Kal-El's virtual form materialized out of the electronic sea, and the Eradicator inclined her head to him. He looked delicious in his crimson Kryptonian robes. It was unfortunate that he wasn't corporeal. "It took you long enough to get here. I almost gave up, and rethought my plans."
"And how do your plans include me?" the Eradicator asked. A half-grin tugged at her lips and she struck a calculated seductive pose. "Are we still deconstructing the galaxy? You've already accomplished the meat of that task."
"My plans include you, but I need to know a few things before we can begin. May I have a peek inside your AI?" Kal-El asked. He pretended to be oblivious to the posing and teasing, but inside he was a little...stimulated? No, the Eradicator was his tool, his pet, his former tormentor, nothing more. She didn't immediately acquiesce to his request though? Willfulness was becoming the rule rather than the exception when it came to his Eradicator. How far had she come on her road to true independent sentience?
The trill of fear that she had been relishing, increased in tenor at Kal-El's request to enter her central processor. She would have welcomed the ending to her madness not long ago, but she was becoming more attached to her new state, her feelings. Did she want anyone tampering with her mind? This wasn't just anyone, she scolded herself. Kal-El was allowed. The fear almost went beyond delicious to bitter, but the Eradicator held it in check. "Be my guest."
Interfacing with the Eradicator's mind was simple once she let down her guards, and Kal-El went in. A different picture than the tumorous mess from his last visit, her mind was smooth and flawless today. The little push he'd given shouldn't have resulted in this, slick tension, strands of color converging and flowing back out, a liquid knot. "Beautiful." There would be no need to change things today. This invasion was more about gauging loyalty and stability, and maybe it was a little about his curiosity. "Now, for the heart of the matter," Kal-El whispered.
The Eradicator knew the moment Kal-El entered her mind. She waited for the gentle probe to become a knife that would change her. He moved through her memories, her data files, and her current directives haphazardly as though getting a taste of her. And she waited for the knife of change. She waited, and Kal-El left her without the slightest adjustment.
"Interesting, directions you're taking. Don't mind me. I didn't look for details. Just needed to know if your heart was still in following me," Kal-El said. "Onlea, interesting choice in aliases. Olal-Onlea was your creator, wasn't she?"
"I thought you weren't groping my mind for details," the Eradicator snapped. "I chose an easy name that wouldn't frighten the children. Psychologically scarred future breeders are inefficient. They are quite sufficiently damaged from the coup you've been orchestrating."
Ignoring, the Eradicator's easy answer and reference to the destruction he had initiated, Kal-El grinned. "Should I call you Onlea now? It is a pretty name for a pretty Eradicator."
"Call me what you will, just tell me what you want. If you didn't pick it up from my mind, I'm quite busy." Kal-El moved closer, challenging her feigned indifference. For a moment the Eradicator forgot where she was, and that there could be no touching in this place, for a moment Onlea waited for a kiss.
Instead of a kiss or an intimate whisper, Kal-El began speaking in a clipped efficient tone. "I need you to help the revolution establish their base on Azar itself. If the Over Council is to really fall, the revolution has to reach all the way to our doorstep. I don't trust anyone else with this mission. Are you game?"
With his order, all thoughts of kissing, or being anything but an Eradicator were gone. "Of course, you honor me with your trust. I will begin right away." Bitterly, the Eradicator pulled out of the interface. That damn grin...he was a tease, an unconscionable bastard. He was...what she made him. What right did she have to be frustrated with Kal-El? It was her duty to help him. She was his Eradicator.
Nothing more...
The Talon pulsed with kids all decked out in the latest fall fashions, or plain flannel, depending on their degree of country-submersion. A scene that would normally have Chloe avidly crowd watching and looking for her first real story of the year was beneath her notice today. A warm cup of coffee steaming into her face, Chloe ran her finger down the list of core requirements for a high school freshman in the state of Kansas. While she was in school Saturday, she'd seen the principal and asked about Clark's future: freshman or sophomore. Kwan had assured her that the school district had a protocol for prolonged absences and restarting one's education. It took a little research through board of education by-laws, but Chloe got her answer. Clark was going to have to take a placement test to get back into the ninth grade, and with his absences, he could forget joining his friends in the tenth.
Unless the poor guy wanted to end up as the oldest and tallest guy in junior high, it was pretty important that Clark study some essentials before the first day of school. He was smart and well spoken, and if it weren't for the whole amnesia thing, Chloe wouldn't be worried. Clark had to relearn his parents' names though. Remembering all the facts from the Revolutionary War was bound to be a pain.
"Hey Chloe," Pete called. He settled a stack of notebooks next to the stack of borrowed textbooks she had temporarily acquired from the school storeroom. "I brought the notes you asked about, well except for the French notes. I'm a horrible French student, C's all last year. So, this is for Clark right? A 24 hour cram session before school starts tomorrow...I think you may have too much material."
"Maybe, but if Clark doesn't pass that exam waiting for him, he's going back across the street to the junior high next year. Wouldn't that suck?" Chloe offered Pete her list of core requirements. "Someone really should have looked into this sooner. Clark could have spent the summer getting ready."
"Stupid me, did I screw up again? I think Clark's already established that I suck," Pete said. "You don't need to reinforce it any, thanks."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. I didn't think about this either until the last minute. Now, big strong man, help me load the car. Time's a wasting." Chloe grabbed the short lighter stack of notes and headed for the parking lot. It took Pete a couple of seconds to get a handle on his larger pile, and Lana stopped by before he got everything into his arms.
"Would you like a hand with that?" Lana asked. She started placing the books on top of the stack already in Pete's arms. "Those look very familiar, you know? Why do you have these old texts?"
"You can't guess? Clark is going to have to take a placement test Monday to decide whether he gets to hang out with the big kids in High School or not." Pete smiled sheepishly. "You think 24 hours is enough time to cover US history, European History, English, Literature, and Algebra?"
Lana winced and shook her head. "Good luck." Leaning in she squeezed Pete's shoulders comfortingly. "I'm glad to see Clark didn't chase off his best friend after the other night too. Tell him to give me a call if I can help. If he needs it, I have unhealthy amounts of caffeine at my disposal."
"Thanks, Lana. I know Clark will appreciate it." Lana held the door for him, and Pete managed his exit relatively gracefully. He knew he was in trouble the second he caught a look at Chloe's face. She wasn't glowering or glaring, but he could tell she was pissed. Tossing the books into the back seat, Pete plopped himself in the front. "What did I do now?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Chloe snapped. "Did I say anything? I mean if Lana needed a Clark update, you're definitely the man to talk to."
Pete shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Okay, are you even listening to yourself? Assuming that that's what we were talking about, Lana is Clark's friend too. He hasn't been talking to her at all since he came back so asking after him is just normal. Try retracting the claws and being a little less paranoid."
Chloe winced and released the death grip she had on her steering wheel. Why am I so damn insecure? Clark's my friend, and we're closer than we've ever been, but I don't trust it. Why can't I trust him? "That did sound bad. I'm sorry, Pete. Please forgive me. Lana is just..."
"A major threat," Pete said. "I understand, sort of. There are guys like that too. Whitney Fordman is one. He could have dated any girl at Smallville High. All he had to do was show interest. It isn't nice, but I hope Kansas State is teaching him what it's like to be a little fish in a huge pond."
Chloe smiled at Pete's attempt to empathize and tried not feel like a complete psycho. He had a knack for calling you on your mistakes without condemning you. It was probably his most endearing trait. Not for the first time, Chloe wondered what Pete's response to Clark's secret would be. Would he smile and crack a joke or find some way to sympathize? She couldn't see him flipping out or getting really angry. Maybe someday Clark would tell him, and then they'd see.
"We should hurry, right?" Pete clicked his seat belt into place and grinned. "The clock's ticking."
Heat boiled down from the sky and steamed back up from the browning pasture grass. Hiding from the sun, the Kent's cows were huddled in loose packs under the pasture's scrub oaks and the meager shade they offered. A few had gone the extra mile and were taking a nice refreshing swim in their little mud-hole of a pond. Jonathan mopped a line of sweat off his neck and sucked in a lungful of the stagnant August air.
On a day when just walking from the truck to the pasture felt like an overwhelming undertaking, Clark was off running, checking on all the fall calves. Though he couldn't see his son at the moment, Jonathan knew he was fine. Clark didn't feel heat like the rest of the world. He could tell you hot vs. cold, but he didn't mind either really. If he had one drop of sweat on him, Jonathan would be shocked.
Technically, a spin around the pasture took Clark ten seconds flat, but he would be a few minutes today, locating the calves and their mothers. Then he'd need to find the expecting mothers by ear-tags. Jonathan had a few minutes of privacy, and he was ready to unload the bit of evidence that was lingering in the bed of his truck. The lead box containing Lola had been hanging out for two days now. He hadn't had an opportunity to head to Miller's Creek, his first choice disposal spot. Their pond was going to have to do. Shoving the box under his arm, Jonathan made his short trek to the pond. There was no way he would be able to toss the box any distance, so he waded out up to his shoulders.
Jonathan checked the latch one last time and held the box in front of him. He had told Martha and Clark that Lola was a parasite, a malevolent force in their lives. She was single-handedly keeping their family from coming back together. She was just a rock, and he believed everything he'd said about her. She was a thinking creature though. He had heard her voice with his own ears. She was an intelligent rock...who was feeding on his son. Jonathan grimaced and extended the box in front of him. It wasn't like he was killing her. He was just putting her out of commission for...indefinitely.
Jonathan lost his footing on the slick clay bottom, and the immediate choice was gone. He went under the stagnant murky-brown water and let the box drop. The stinking water burned in his nose and eyes, and Jonathan burst back up sputtering. A nearby Hereford cow seemed offended at his display and headed for the opposite bank. For a minute Jonathan considered diving down to retrieve Lola. Instead, he let her lie. This was the right choice. Lola had to go, and he knew that.
Water, ripe with cow piss and God-knew-what-else, streaming off him in waves, Jonathan cut a slow sloshing path to the bank.
"Maybe I lack perspective, but I didn't think it was that hot out here," Clark said. He was standing by the truck, with an honest, quizzical look on his face. Why on Earth would anyone take in swim in a cesspool like that?
Dusty and dirty, but not sweaty, Clark was back early. Jonathan smiled, caught a little off-guard. How much had he seen? Trying to stay calm, Jonathan offered Clark the story he'd planned for the unscheduled swim in the cow's hole. "It's not that hot, no. I was looking over the breeding timing sheet and the wind caught it." Jonathan frowned and pointed to the center of the pond. "I didn't realize how deep I was going to have to get to retrieve it, and then I ended up taking a full-dunking."
"Oh, so did you get the sheet?" Clark asked. He was ready to try a delicate x-ray scan for the sheet if his father said no, but Jonathan nodded instead, producing the soggy paper from one of his pockets. Clark returned his father's smile without much enthusiasm and tried not to sigh too obviously. The last two days had been the hardest he'd spent on Earth. His parents had grounded him for his outburst: no phone, no internet, no leaving the farm. Lola was gone. Chloe was inaccessible, and his parents were...well they weren't as annoying. They had stopped asking him about his memory, and neither had offered him an anecdote or instruction since he'd criticized them for it.
He was alone though. Clark had gotten used to having a friend inside his head, and everyone around him seemed so far away. "I guess we should head back so you can change. The calves looked fine, and I found all the pregnant girls. I can drive, if you want to ride in the back."
"That sounds like a good idea," Jonathan said. "Except that you haven't driven since you've been back. Do you remember how? I can show you if you don't. That truck upholstery couldn't get any more stained at this point."
There wasn't any obvious expectation behind that question even though it directly addressed his amnesia, and Clark had offered without thinking it through. Smiling more genuinely, he shrugged. Did he remember how to drive? It was a good question, and he had to stop and think. "Brake, clutch, gas, steering wheel, I think I remember, but you're right. I should probably take a refresher ride before I try a solo."
"Well load up then," Jonathan said. "When you have a question, just ask. Oh and I'll tell you what I told you the first time you drove the truck, if I scream in terror, use the brake."
Feeling more secure in his relationship with his son than he had in months, Jonathan only looked at the watering hole in the rear view mirror once, and he had no regrets.
On the steps of the Luthor residence, Jason Fisk, psychic-pet, waited for his employer to give him his final instructions. It was damn hot for ten in the morning, and Jason was beginning to regret the suit he'd decided on. A pair of Bermuda shorts with a cotton t-shirt sounded heavenly, to Hell with looking professional and keeping to his employer's level. "Finally," Jason hissed under his breath.
Lex pulled up to the steps in some black sports car. Jason couldn't have given the machine a name if his life depended on it. Expensive-car was the best he could manage. "I appreciate the hospitality." It was just the most stilted, uncomfortable weekend of my life. "Time to be heading to Cadmus Labs though. I thought you were going to run me late for a bit there."
"I had some business to take care of. I should have left word that you were free to go," Lex said. He smiled smoothly and offered Fisk his hand. "Enjoy the vacation. I'll be needing you soon enough."
Fisk started to lecture his employer about the etiquette of the psychic community. Shaking hands just wasn't done. It made things more comfortable for everyone, if people stayed in their own heads. It might be the last chance Jason would get to gather some ammunition against his employer. He took Lex's hand and held on for the ride.
Lex's mind wasn't on the fact that he was shaking a card-carrying psychic's hand. He was still back at the factory dissecting the latest exchange he'd shared with his father. The trip should have been quick. Toss the few things he wanted to keep from the place into a box and leave, but Lionel had dropped by. The old man smelled a mystery in his son's decision to remain in Smallville, and he wasn't the type to stand for mysteries. It would only spell trouble for everyone if he discovered his son's interests in Smallville: mutants, meteors, and Clark Kent.
Their handshake had continued two beats past a normal greeting before Lex even looked closely at Fisk. The man was glassy-eyed and stiff and...shit. Lex tried to end the handshake. He jerked back hard, leaning away from the man who was most likely fishing around in his head. "Fisk, let me go," Lex shouted.
It wasn't Lex's voice that shocked him out of his trance, but Jon did let him go. He'd seen all he needed to see. Jon smiled broadly. "I took this job because I had to. You made some fairly serious threats against me and my daughter, and you offered some very generous compensation. I took this job without telling you that I'd lost my gift. I couldn't reach out. I was blocked, afraid. Well, I got past that a couple of days ago when I shook your friend's hand. Thanks for that." Jon picked up his bag and started down the steps. "This is me quitting. I can't be a spy for you then go home and look my kid in the eye. There's a moral line to what I do. I find lost things."
"You find lost things? This is one Hell of a mistake you're making," Lex said. It was a low tactic, but he knew Fisk's weak point. How could he risk his daughter like this? "You have a daughter who's depending on you."
Fisk stopped and looked back over his shoulder. His smile wasn't cocky or afraid. It was just peaceful. "You're bluffing. I'm not sure you're consciously aware of it, but you aren't capable of those things you threatened, not today. Before you get too upset, that's good news. You're a better man than you think you are." Fisk started walking down the drive, ignoring the car that was supposed to take him to his new position.
Lex couldn't think of an argument to that broad statement. What was he supposed to say? I'm a Luthor, and we are not good men! I'll ruin your life and kick your dog too if you don't come back here and work for me! Jon Fisk wouldn't walk away from Lionel with a smile and a comment about his good character. "Dad would be disappointed," Lex said. He turned and headed inside, letting Fisk go. So he'd lost one key player. There was more than one way to skin a cat, and he already had other, less paranormal options on the burner.
