- Chapter 20 - A New Equilibrium -

...Our Crows put in quite a showing against the Bakersville Huskies, routing our county rivals...

Chloe checked her statistics page for the stupid football score. This far into the year she shouldn't have been stuck still writing the sports column, but the membership drive hadn't produced a single sports-oriented member. No one wanted the column, and Chloe would have let the section drop, except that the student body loved it. According to their readers' poll over fifty percent of students who opened the Torch were looking for an article on the week's sporting events.

Chloe had tried foisting the duty off on a freshman, but they seemed to be aware of her shortage of personnel. The little weasels had threatened to quit. Secretly, Chloe was glad to have the extra work this week. Everything had been so promising with Clark at the beginning of the week, and then he'd started avoiding her. She knew he was afraid about starting any more fires, but her journalist instincts were humming, not to mention the pricking of her pride. More was going on than Clark had been willing to talk about, she'd stake her future press pass on it. As for the neurotic paranoid girl inside her head who insisted that Clark must not have liked the kiss nearly as much as she had...Chloe just wasn't listening. No, Chloe commanded herself. She wasn't going there, not today. It was just too easy for him to hide at school. Clark was in freshman classes. He had second lunch. Well the boy had to go home eventually. She could wait for him at his house this afternoon, and they could talk... before the neurotic paranoid girl inside gained any more sway over the romantic girl still reeling from her first real kiss.

Turning her attention back to the half-written article in front of her, Chloe started inserting statistics. This article was a waste of her time. A good article was harder to write than quoting statistics. Her article on Mrs. Flutey was the hardest thing she'd ever written, mostly because of the guilt she felt over exposing the poor woman. It was good though, powerful, honest and interesting. It was what journalism was about. Her fingers frozen, Chloe stared at the lines of text unseeing.

One of those freshman weasels with no interest in sports stormed into the Torch office and headed for Chloe's workstation. The girl was obviously excited. She was flushed all the way to her bleach-blond roots. Starting Chloe out of her reverie, the freshman girl slapped her bubble gum pink purse down. "Stop the presses. I have a breaking story for tomorrow's edition."

It took Chloe a second to place a name with the freshman, Beatrice? No, she was Britney. "We don't have presses to stop. Besides we don't start printing until everyone turns in their columns. The deadline isn't until five." This girl had proposed a regular column entitled, The Freshman Beat, which turned out to be a gossipy bit of fluff, more concerned with fashion, dating, and bad haircuts than news. If Chloe was remembering correctly the half-page of shallow nothing she'd turned in this week had been about the color pink and it's implication for fall fashion. If the kid had some real news to replace her essay on pink, more power to her. "You know your column's length. If you want to change the content, you have until the deadline."

"I'll never finish before the deadline. You have to give me an extension, at least until seven or so. I don't type so fast," Britney whined. She could tell that Chloe didn't like her or her work, but their super-serious editor had no concept for her audience sometimes. The students wanted to read about fashion and dating and lip gloss. They'd pick up a Newsweek if they wanted to read something heavier. "This is a great story. Please?"

"Pitch it to me," Chloe said. "If it's really that good, we'll get some resources behind it, and we'll make the deadline."

"Pitch it?" Britney took a deep breath, and launched into a rapid-fire outline of her sizzling exclusive. "Okay, so it's tragic and mysterious and there's major hottie factor. You know Clark Kent right? There are all those rumors about his vanishing act last year, and he doesn't remember his traumatic experience. Enter mystery, which builds up his not insignificant hottie status. The big shy guy has made a quiet splash in the freshman class. I could totally like list maybe a dozen girls who've expressed interest, A-list girls, I'm not talking those loner theater types, CHEERLEADERS. Not that the big shy lug would notice his fan club. So when I'm talking with a friend on the student council who has access to the top two nominees for the freshman class's homecoming court, she tells me under the table that the finalists are Clark Kent and Steven Ryan. Ryan isn't really a shock, I mean please, he's always being elected this or that, but for all the aforementioned reason's Clark is totally news. The gossip mill, which I might add had been moving on to greener pastures, should kick back into high gear." Brittany gestured broadly, her grin widening. "Freshman Homecoming Court Has a Dark Horse Candidate, that's the title I see. We'd need a really smoky sexy shot of Clark. I already checked, and his school picture is not going to work."

Chloe was speechless. Visions of skinny, vapid freshmen girls stalking Clark filled her brain. Heat was rising in her cheeks, and an irrational fear gripped her. I have no reason to be jealous. A new image flooded her mind's eye the minute she banished the freshmen on safari. This time it was Brittany on Clark's arm, wearing a pink taffeta homecoming court dress. The image was so sickening perfect, it was infuriating. Without even bothering to save her sports column, Chloe was on her feet. She didn't leave in search of Clark yet though. No, she had a gossip-mongering freshman to deal with first. "No, I don't think so. I'll publish your tangents on the colors of the fall, and the 'new thing' in hair dye, but you aren't publishing an article gossiping directly about another student. Forget it."

"But..." Britney could feel herself puffing up with indignation. "You belittle my work like it has no meaning, and you call my first breaking news story gossip? News and gossip is different. One has facts and sources and purpose. Gossip is malicious and rarely factual. This isn't. It's just news."

"I'm the editor, and I said no. Get over it," Chloe snapped. Spinning on her heel, Chloe left Britney to her fuming. The girl might quit, but at that moment Chloe couldn't have cared less. She'd write the whole damn paper on her own if she had to.

Britney blinked back a fine sheen of tears. Chloe Sullivan, ogre editor, was not going to make her cry. Their assistant editor, Mark, a geeky guy with wild brown hair, left his workstation and offered her a sympathetic smile. "It's not you. Kent is a really good friend of hers. You're right though, he's news, if for no other reason than Chloe wrote a series of articles about his disappearance. She helped get the student body interested in her buddy, and now she wants that attention to go away because he's home and he's shy. Well, that's not how these things work." Mark steered Britney over to an empty workstation. "You get the facts straight, and you write this professional. I'll talk to Chloe about what's news when she gets back." Mark sighed and headed back to his own work. Hopefully, Chloe would see the wisdom of writing a factual professional article to set the record straight as opposed to letting the school gossips blow things out of proportion.


Setting a fire was no great trick. Humans had been managing it for centuries. The fact that Clark could set a flame or melt your average piece of steel with a glance wasn't such a big deal, as long as he could control it. A row of targets, sand-filled sacks, sat on top of fence posts. Squinting his eyes and tightening his jaw, Clark felt the shift inside his eye that changed the color of the world. Everything was painted red for an instant, and the center of his chosen target blackened without bursting into flame. As though he'd been using his eyes like a Zippo lighter his whole life he marked each target in turn without actually igniting anything.

The Eradicator had been right about mastering his wildfire eyes. Practice did make perfect, but he wasn't particularly ready to attempt a live demonstration. It was one thing to singe sacks while he was standing around alone. With added stimuli like Chloe, anything could happen.

An enthusiastic round of applause erupted and Clark spun. He wasn't quite as alone as he thought. His mother with a sunscreen slathered Luci had stopped to watch his display. Over the past few days, he'd gotten used to seeing the other aliens around the farm, though he'd been avoiding Luci and Reo as much as possible. It was just too weird.

Luci's skin was bright red under a semi-transparent layer of sunscreen. Never having had a sunburn, Clark wondered if it hurt much. Despite his mother's best efforts, the two kids had suffered with varying degrees of sunburn since first meeting ultra violet radiation. Clark hadn't been sure how they would respond to the energy, but the Eradicator hadn't been concerned. It took him years of sun-soaking to really start expressing his genetics. Luci and Ford were hybrids with absolutely no energy stored up. They weren't going to be burning down the countryside or juggling trucks anytime soon.

"Do you think you might be up to seeing a guest? Chloe stopped by. She's in the living room," Martha said. "I think you'll both survive the encounter now."

Clark glanced over his shoulder at the perfectly singed sandbags. Controlling his heat vision wasn't a hurdle he could use to push Chloe away anymore. But he still had to be careful not to anger the Eradicator. He didn't want to hurt Chloe, but he couldn't let the Eradicator get the wrong idea... well the right idea. Keeping his distance was the only way to prevent her from becoming a target. "Did she say anything?"

"Yes, she asked if you were home," Martha said. "I told her, yes."

"You told her, yes? Was that wise?" Clark asked. He had discussed his fears with his parents. Surely they realized the trouble Chloe might get herself into. They were the ones constantly telling him how dangerous the Eradicator was. Was his mother trying to get Chloe killed?

"Clark, you can talk to her," Martha said. "You probably shouldn't go parking at the moment, but talking? You should really at least have a conversation, I think."

Unable to summon a good counter argument, Clark nodded and headed for the house. Luci watched him go acutely aware that he hadn't even really acknowledged her presence. Not for the first time that day she was glad to have her sunburn, great camouflage for blushing little girls. A similarly red face was just visible peeking around the corner of the house. Luci broke away from Martha to see what her brother was sneaking around doing.

"Ford?" Luci hissed. He raised his finger to his lips using the human gesture for shushing. "What are you doing?" she asked more quietly.

He pointed down the hill where an entire flock of geese was grazing. Luci stared at the birds and tried not to feel too overwhelmed. It had taken a lot of mental discipline just to be able to function outside. Wild creatures wandering through her space was almost more than she could handle just then. "What about them?" she managed to whisper.

Turning his wide-eyed excitement fully on her, Ford shook his head at her. "Aren't they pretty?"

Luci shrugged and frowned at her little brother. She missed whatever happened to turn him into a robot, and somehow she'd missed the stimuli that woke him back up too. At least he was almost acting like himself again. He had thrown himself into the humans' farm, investigating cows, climbing trees, and now stalking geese. "They're probably covered in germs," Luci said. "Leave them alone. They might be dangerous."

"They don't look dangerous," Ford replied. He grinned mischievously. "They look soft."


Chloe wasn't sure what she was expecting from Clark. He kissed her five days ago and they'd scarcely spoken since. He obviously regretted his hasty gesture of affection. He obviously wished he could take it back. When the door opened and she saw him standing there, wind-tousled black hair over somber blue eyes, her breath caught in her throat. She didn't look at his lips, or his chest. Chloe kept her gaze focused on Clark's eyes. If she looked anywhere else, she might just tackle him and initiated their second kiss.

"This is hard," Clark said. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to encourage Chloe to keep her distance without ruining any chance they would ever have together? A rush of wind pushed at his back, and for a moment, Clark imagined that the Eradicator had already arrived. She'd read his mind, and she was going to eliminate the human he was interested in. "It's not really safe," Clark said. The excuse sounded lame to him, but he plowed forward. "You saw what happened at Lex's place."

"If this is about the fire and your heat vision," Chloe said, "We can take things slow until you get things under control, but what's up with this full avoidance stuff? You haven't even been to the Torch offices. You sent the lunch menus by Pete."

She wasn't buying his excuse, Clark realized. "Look, you shouldn't be here. You just... you don't understand."

"Explain it," Chloe said. The inner voice that had been insisting that Clark didn't want any more kisses or anything else from her was growing stronger and more insistent. Her eyes were burning, and Chloe knew that if she didn't leave soon she was going to betray herself and cry. Biting her lip cruelly, Chloe waited for Clark to bumble out with another lie, another excuse to push her away. She should never have kissed him. She'd killed their friendship as surely as Clark had destroyed Lex's house.

But Clark wasn't alone in the entryway anymore. He'd been joined by a tall sexy woman in the blink of an eye. Chloe stared without recognition while the woman draped herself over Clark, pouting her red lips playfully and allowing her long silky black hair to tumble across his chest. "He's scared that I won't approve of you, dear," the woman purred.

Chloe's breath caught in her throat and she stumbled backwards. Recognition nearly floored her. This was the Eradicator. This was the creature that attacked Chloe in the woods a year ago, who stole Clark away and returned him devoid of memories. Her spine stiffening, Chloe's self conscious fear dispersed to be replaced by anger. "Don't touch him," she commanded. "Leave him alone."

And then Clark was in front of her, blocking the Eradicator from view. He was shielding her, Chloe realized, and not just in this moment. He'd been protecting her for a week now, protecting her from the Eradicator. "Leave her alone," Clark said. "She's not a threat to you or your plans. There's nothing between us."

"You are a bad liar, Clark," the Eradicator said. "Don't worry. Genetic diversity is the idea. Some human hybrids in the program will be fine. The Kryptonian genetics will dominate." She strolled across the room and headed up the stairs at a nice sedate, human pace. "I came to visit with Reo. You two have fun."

"Hybrids?" Chloe asked. "What's going on here? When did that crazy woman come back? Who's Reo?"

Still staring up the stairs dumbfounded, Clark took a moment to answer. He spun around and gripped Chloe's shoulders. Shaking his head, he mouthed silently, "She can hear." Then he shushed her for good measure and led her to the kitchen. He gave Chloe a pen and paper and took one of his own.

Well, the Eradicator just gave you her stamp of approval. You should be afraid now. She just invited you to have a few of my children - a few of the thousands she'd like me to father in the near future.

Stuffed into a corseted top of synthetic black fabric, Reo stared at herself in the mirror and tried to keep a disgusted sneer off her face. She looked like a flabby, gray version of the Eradicator. "You think this will do it for Clark?" she asked. "I can hardly breathe."

The Eradicator paced around her and frowned unhappily. "I think you're going to have to sell yourself." She pushed Reo up into a straighter posture, fluffed her hair, and pinched some color into her cheeks. "I expect you to have conceived by the time I return."

"You're leaving?" Reo fought to keep elation from bleeding through her voice, but it was hard. "Gone to pick up more project members?"

The Eradicator shook her head and sighed. "This is a different project, but I expect you to keep our project on track. Do you understand? You're in charge of keeping things in control while I'm gone." She patted Reo's plump stomach and smiled. "Conceive while I'm gone, and we will be in good shape."


It doesn't matter how clearly a statement is written, if it's unbelievable enough, comprehension can be slow. Chloe stared down at Clark's neatly slanted handwriting and read the story he had written for the fifth time. "You're serious," she whispered. "This is for real?" Clark shushed her again, and Chloe wrote her question down. What are you doing? How are you going to stop her? She wants you to father all these... kids?

Her jealous contemplations about freshmen girls and the homecoming court suddenly seemed petty and insignificant. Clark was being pimped by an insane alien machine.

We're stalling, Clark wrote. But we don't really have a solution.

Stalling... Chloe set down her pen and took a deep breath. "I'm glad you finally decided to let me know what was going on." She looked toward the stairs pointedly. "I have the Eradicator's approval? Then we should start the human mating ritual. It can take years to complete it properly."

She took her pen back up and scribbled onto her paper. I can stall with the best of them. Forget the alien girls. She'd keep Clark so tied up in human mating rituals - dating, that the Eradicator would regret ever giving them the go ahead. "We're going out tonight. Pick me up at seven."