Disclaimer: I do not own either Young Justice or its related characters. Such are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros. Entertainment and Cartoon Network. I'm just borrowing them for some non-profit entertainment.
Signals
Chapter Nine: Exposition
Batcave
April 1 – 4:00 pm
Bruce Wayne suppressed a growl. He had pulled his cowl down back when he had been making calls to the rest of the Founding Seven and had simply forgotten to pull it back over his face when people started arriving. All the Founding Seven knew each other's identities and so Bruce hadn't thought about his cowl, other than to lament how obnoxiously hot the thing got. It was a testament to just how much of his mind was preoccupied with the overarching situation that he had failed to consider his mask when the children arrived.
All that caution. All the careful measures he'd taken over the years. All that training and conditioning he'd given Dick in order to protect their identities and it was all undone in one brief moment of carelessness.
Dick, for his part, was showing Artemis a picture he'd snapped with his iPhone on the girl's first day of school.
The Batman pulled his cowl back over his face.
"It's a little late for that now, Mr. Wayne." The blond archer commented, voice laced with amusement.
He focused one intense and angry bat-glare at the girl and the humor drained out of her and was replaced by the same fearsome awe that most people regarded him with. He might be Bruce Wayne, Gotham Prince, Millionaire Playboy and Lay-About by day; but after the sun set, under the cover of darkness… he was the night!
"Hey, is that Uncle Supes on the TV?" Kid Flash interrupted the tense atmosphere.
Everyone's attention then shifted from the Batman and fem fatal archer and instead turned to the main monitor array where Bruce had left feed from his Wayne Tech satellite playing. In the three minuets that their attention had been elsewhere the fighter in black had managed to overpower the Man of Steel. The red and blue hero had gone limp, not dead but unconscious. His alien opponent slung the kryptonian's arms over his shoulders and, placing his other arm under the man's groin, hoisted the Superman up onto his back.
"Okay, wait, how in the hell did that happen!" The Green Lantern's eyes went wide behind his emerald domino mask. "I've seen Supes catch meteors with his bare hands. No way some random dude in a Tron suit nails him that easily."
The Dark Knight's eyes narrowed at the screen. There was only one way anyone could manage to beat Clark in a strait fight that didn't involve kryptonite, red solar radiation, or magic and that was if the Man of Steel were holding himself back. There were any number of reasons why the overly accommodating Boy Scout would refrain from using his full strength and full power set, but Bruce had already deduced the likely identity his opponent and, to be completely honest, the World's Greatest Detective was a little surprised Clark had lasted as long as he had.
The Wayne Tech satellite's picture wasn't quite as clear as what the Watchtower had been equipped with, in addition to that the picture was obscured by the thin cloud of dust that still hovered in the air around them and finally, the satellite only offered a view from directly above. So, unless the man looked directly up, there was no way to get a clear view of his face. Still, the hair color, the set of his shoulders and general body type was right… Bruce wondered if the others would notice and draw the same conclusion.
They watched the screen as the alien attacker shifted the Superman on his shoulders to free one hand and thumb a device on his belt to open a Boom Tube. The two men disappeared.
"Great." Flash groaned. "We're gonna have to rescue him. Aren't we?"
…
Watchtower
April 1 – (irrelevant)
Lashina blinked in confusion as she watched Blue Eyes teleport back onto the bridge with the Earth's Superman slung over his shoulders. The silent brigadier general threw the larger man down on the titanium-paneled floor and he gave an unconscious groan, denting the floor with his shoulder.
"You were supposed to kill him." The Ribbon Warrior said in confusion.
He flashed her a look of mingled exasperation and annoyance with just the slightest bit of questioning thrown in as if to say, 'Do I tell you how to do your job?'
Seeing as how he was currently her commanding officer, Lashina could have easily answered "Yes." to that unspoken question. But also, considering he was her commanding officer, that probably wasn't such a smart idea.
Mute stretched the tension out of over-tired muscles. His fight with the Superman was much easier than it should have been considering the strength and power differential between them, but that didn't mean that it was in any way actually easy. The kryptonian warrior was exhausted, but there was still one thing he wanted to do before he took a breather.
Grabbing one of the Superman's arms, he dragged the two hundred and thirty-five pounds of kryptonian hero over to the bridges main comm consol. He keyed in the code that would relay a signal through his own Fatherbox and send it back to Apokolips, when the signal reached its intended receiver their image would be displayed on the Watchtower's comm screen and they could converse as if over a normal comm channel. There was a bit of a longer delay in actually forming the connection and occasionally the connection suffered from a maddening amount of lag. But overall, it was a perfectly functional method of communication.
Finally, after a prolonged pause, Granny Goodness' visage appeared on the screen. "Oh, my precious boy." She crooned, "I hadn't expected to hear from you so soon."
In answer to her unasked question of 'Why are you bothering me so early in the invasion?', Superboy-Dark lifted the Superman up by a fist full of hair for Granny to see. The man gave another groan this one louder and the silent brigadier general wondered if he were regaining consciousness.
"You were supposed to kill him." Granny's eyes narrowed with displeasure.
Superboy-Dark blinked his crystal blue eyes at her innocently. He nodded to his genetic-parent then tapped his own forehead and grinned suggestively.
It took Granny a moment or two longer to understand what he was trying to say, then her eyes alighted with malicious glee. "Oh, my precious boy, that is just a darling idea!" She exclaimed. "You're a chip off the old Granny-block, you are. Just give me a moment to put some equipment together and I'll pop on over, shall I."
The boy grinned again, this time with pleasure.
…
Batcave
April 1 – 5:20 pm
The sun had begun to dip low over the wooded hills behind Wayne Manor that obscured the Batcave. Wonder Woman had finally arrived, as had a number of other League members aside from the Founding Seven.
Black Canary all but pounced on the amazon princess the moment she entered the cave, and demanded information on Green Arrow. At Diana's assurance that he was alright and was being looked after by her sisters on Themyscira, the blond bomb-shell's shoulders had sagged with relief and she turned to Red Arrow and gave a short sob into his chest before composing herself to face the rest of the League.
When everyone who was coming had been assembled and updates as to the whereabouts of those not in attendance were given they all sat down to conference –the Young Justice Team included.
Kid Flash practically hummed with excitement sitting next to his uncle at the wide circular meeting table. He never would have imagined he'd be sitting at the table being included in a serious meeting with the world's greatest heroes so early in his career. His Team had been working for the League for less than a year. Sure, the world was under attack by an invading alien enemy, but that was like a normal Thursday for these guys… right?
Batman called the meeting to order. A hush drifted over the table as all eyes turned to the Caped Crusader.
"I trust you're all aware of the situation."
There was a sober nodding of heads and somber mutterings of affirmatives.
But just to recap. "Watchtower was attacked and subsequently captured earlier today by an invading alien force. At the same moment, the enemy also launched simultaneous attacks on the Mt. Justice Cave and Superman's Fortress of Solitude. Being unprepared for these attacks, both bases were lost, the Cave being sealed-up to trap the invasion force and the Fortress had to be abandoned as neither Superman nor I were equipped to defend it. Not long after that, another attack was launched on Central City with the Flash as the main target."
"Yeah," Barry crossed his arm over his chest. "And I'd really like to know how they found my home!"
Bruce already knew how, but he wasn't sure if the others were ready to learn the identity of the enemy leader. Instead he continued, "Superman rushed to give aid to the Flash but was locked in battle with one of the enemy's higher ranked operatives and was subsequently captured."
At this last statement there was a chorus exclamations of disbelief.
"No way!" said Red Arrow blinked behind his back domino mask.
"I've seen that guy bench-press mountains!" One of the Lanterns exclaimed. "No way he's beaten and we don't even feel it on the other side of the globe!"
Everyone else had a comment much the same. "I've seen Superman do BLANK, no way he can be beaten that easily, no way without the rest of the world feeling some sort of shockwave from the battle, no way, no how, no sir!" Batman had to once again call for order, this time banging his leather and kevlar gloved hand on the table loudly.
"Now we must decide what to do." He said. "It goes without saying that we need to regroup and plan a means of striking back at the enemy. But I'd also like to send a small force to try and rescue Superman. His-"
"One, two, three, not it!" The Flash cut him off.
"Not it!" The first Green Lantern, Hal Jordan, echoed.
Batman shot them both a look of steely disapproval. They were supposed to be adults. Why could they not act their ages? At least while the kids were present. They were setting such a bad example!
"What?" The Fastest Man Alive shrugged. "The things that Supes usually needs to be rescued from are really, really hard."
Everyone on the Team exchanged a look.
"We'll go." Robin stood.
"We will be needed planet-side." Batman glared at his partner. Had Dick seriously just volunteered his superior for a mission?
"No, I meant-"
"He means us." Aqualad stood and placed a hand on the Boy Wonder's shoulder. The remaining three teens all nodded. "We're your covert ops Team, while the rest of the League is off fighting the main bulk of the invaders, we'll sneak onto Watchtower and rescue the Superman."
…
Watchtower
April 1 – (irrelevant)
Clark rose to consciousness slowly, in stages. Someone was hoisting him up and having trouble with it, finding his dense kryptonian body heavy. Strong bracers of a cold metal were clamped around his wrists and he hung by them. The air was stale, like it had been filtered through carbon scrubbers rather than flowing freely on the winds, wherever he was, it was a sealed base. There was the scrape of boots on metal floors, the rhythmic thumping of two… three heartbeats, no, two heartbeats and a machine of sorts that mimicked a heart?
A rough and calloused hand gripped his chin, lifting his face up and turning it from side to side. The fingers were tipped in sharp, almost claw like, nails and they bit into Clark's skin, not something easily done. His handler was no doubt some sort of alien. …And then the fell captor spoke.
"Mm, he really is a prize catch, my boy." That voice! "I'm rather glad you didn't kill him after all."
He opened his eyes just in time to see Granny Goodness give Kon-El, give his son, a pat on the head, a pat on the head that the boy seemed to accept happily. Clark glared daggers at the vile woman. She had stolen his son from him and had brainwashed him to, not only doing her bidding, but doing it gladly and for nothing more than a literal pat on the head. A very un-Superman like growl issued from the Man of Steel as he watched his son and the alien Granny.
"Oh, he's awake." She said with a malevolent grin.
Clark looked past her to his clone. "Kon-El…?"
"Ukr-kah." The boy acknowledged.
"Oh, I had heard that you're speaking now!" The Granny clapped her hands excitedly. Conner only nodded. Granny patted him on the shoulder. "I can handle him now, my boy. Why don't you have a little sit-down. You look pooped."
She pinched his cheek with what, on any other old woman, would have been called 'affection', causing the boy to grimace with discomfort. He offered a curt but respectful half-nod half-bow to the Granny and turned to exit, but paused just as he was passing by Clark. He gazed up at his genetic-parent suspended by the wrist-cuffs.
"Kon-El… this isn't you." He tried, hoping his words would reach the boy. "Snap out of it."
Well, he must have struck something in the young kryptonian-genomorph because the next thing Clark knew, Conner had wrapped his arms around him in what could only be described as a 'hug'.
"Khup fardeiget uchavia rrup." When he pulled back, the boy's crystal blue eyes were full of hopeful anticipation and anxious nerves.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Clark blinked in sudden apprehension. But the boy had already left the room. Kon-El had said, 'I look forward to working with you.' He fixed his eyes on Granny Goodness, "What did he mean by that?"
The Granny gave a shrug, "I assure you, I don't know."
She brought a tray over to where the Man of Steel had been suspended. She set it down on a small service table and Clark could see it held several skin-adhesive nodes. He didn't need to ask what those were for; the Superman already decided he did not want to find out. He balled his hand into a fist and pulled against his restrains as hard as he could, there was no give. He tired again with the restraint on the other wrist, still nothing.
"Oh, don't bother, my dear boy." Granny shook her head in amusement. "Those cuffs are a terillium-carbonic alloy, not even a kryptonian under the influence of yellow sunlight can break them. You'll stay where you are until I decide to let you down."
She attempted to place one of the adhesive nodes on his temple but Clark pulled his head away. She tried to place it on the other side, he leaned his head the other way. She grew impatient, grabbed him roughly by the ear and held his head steady to place the node on his temple. He snarled but couldn't do much else in retaliation.
"Oh, my!" Huffed the old woman. "Now I see where my little boy gets his temper."
He's not yours you pan-galactic manipulative bitch! "Something's been bothering me." Clark said, ignoring the woman's comment about his temper. He felt he had every right to be angry given his circumstances. "I destroyed Kon-El's helmet with the tone, and I don't hear anything right now, why hasn't he returned to normal?"
"Oh? I could easily counter that by asking what makes you think the boy you knew was his 'normal' self in the first place?"
Clark blinked in surprise, so startled that he offered no resistance when she placed a second node on his other temple. "You lie!" He snarled. "Kon-El… Conner… Superboy… He's one of us. He's one of me… mine! The Kon-El I got to know, that's the real Superboy, not this… this… folen-fuhn you turned him into."
"Oh, not you too." Groaned the old woman. "Cut the kryptonian potty-mouth, my boy, or else I'll have to bend you over my knee."
For a second time Clark blinked. "I haven't made this sound since the sixth-grade but… eww…" He grimaced for a second time as well. But he needed to stay on point, keep the old woman talking. Bruce wouldn't get distracted like this. "Then how'd you do it?"
She paused in reaching for a third node. "Do what?"
"If you say that my Kon-El is the fake and that your… what are you calling him, by the way? –is the real him, how'd you do it?" Elaborated the Superman. "What kind of programming did you use? You must have had to implant it during his incubation in Cadmus. How'd you do it?"
Now it was finally the Granny's turn to blink. "Oh, you mean you don't already know? I would have thought that Batman of yours would have put it together by now, as soon as he learned that it was us who control the boy. No? Some much for Earth's 'Greatest Detective'. The Light and their Cadmus Projects were working for Mighty Darksied."
"Darksied?" Clark asked, then regretted it. That must be the name of their leader, or their organization, or their Empire or something; but that wasn't what was important right now, that would have to come later. Right now he needed answers about Conner. "Forget it. Why did you have Cadmus make Superboy?"
Granny placed a third node in the center of his forehead. "Why, to destroy you." She said as if this were obvious. "I thought you people always knew that. That was one of the first things my little boy told your people when they found him."
"Why me specifically? Why not clone everyone in the League their own personal assassin?"
"Because you're the one with no obvious weaknesses and therefore the most difficult to kill." She huffed. Granny Goodness moved the now empty tray aside and reached up above the Man of Steel to pull something down over his head. "It was setting his sleeper programming that was the real challenge." She continued with no prompting from Clark. "You see, he would be the first of my little chickadees to grow-up without me to guide his way. So, I designed my little psychic symphony and placed a… oh, what is word… a 'receiver' of sorts deep in his subconscious. You see, its been part of him since before he was 'born'. That is the real Superboy."
It wasn't true. Clark refused to believe it. "Tell me about the symphony."
Granny crossed her arms over her chest. "My, my, my, you are an inquisitive one. What are you in your off hours, when you're not playing hero? One of those plucky little story hunters who are always poking their noses where they shouldn't. What do you call them? Muckraker?"
Reporter. "Yes." He said with a completely strait face. "Yes that's exactly what we call them. Tell me about the symphony."
"First, tell me: Do you know what 'sound' is? Its vibrations." She said before he could answer. "That's all anything is, really. Colors are the vibrations of light as they're refracted through your eye, sound is the vibration of air against your eardrums, everything is a vibration in one form or another –everything vibrates."
Clark suppressed the urge to groan. This was going to turn out like Flash's "27 Uses for the Word 'Vibrate'" joke, wasn't it?
"That's what the symphony is." She continued. "The cosmos vibrating together in one great harmonious orchestra. Everything has its own individual pitch, its unique tone… and for every individual tone, there is a counter-vibration that cancels it out. It was all a matter of finding the right tone to cancel the natural rhythm that Superboy's existence would have produced and replace it with one of my own design, one more compatible with Apokolips rather than Earth or the late Krypton."
That must have been why is seemed like the tone he'd heard didn't belong, or wasn't part of the Earth's natural rhythm –because it wasn't.
"What about now?" He pressed. "You're not using the music now. How come he's still under your control?"
"Ah, that's a simple one." She smiled cheerily. "After I got him back to my own little nursery on Apokolips, I did a little fiddling and fine tuning until he was perfect –until he didn't need the melody anymore because its already a part of him."
"Then why the tone in the helmet."
"Oh, that little bit?" Now her smiled was once again malevolent. "That was for you. I have this little flare for the dramatic, you see, and you seemed so invested in finding my little melody and stopping it before that I just couldn't resisting throwing you that little bone. It was rather nicely done, I think."
Clark had a different opinion.
"Now, if you're done stalling…" She moved her hand ominously towards a switch.
"One final question." He said quickly. She paused, giving him an annoyed frown. "Why does he only speak kryptonese?"
"I was rather hoping you could tell me that. I can only assume that it's a result of some unaccounted for algorithm, or variable you introduced, or something." Her hand was on the switch now.
"One more thing!"
Again, she paused.
"What are you doing to me?"
"Oh, I should think that would be obvious." Granny smiled in amusement. "I'm going counter-vibrate your natural melody until you're loyal to Great Darksied! …Or are turned into a vegetable." She shrugged. "Really, I'm not picky. But this will be the first time I've tried it on someone whose mind is already fully formed. Regardless of the result, it should be an interesting experiment."
She flipped the switch.
…
Batcave
April 1 – 5:56 pm
"I'm going to say the same thing I say to you before every mission, because this mission is no different than any other."
Meeting of the Leaguers whom had regrouped at the Batcave had adjourned, leaving only the Team seated at the wide round meeting table. Black Canary also remained behind, hovering by the door, not wanting to leave so that she could offer whatever support she could to the kids but also wanting to be in a position to easily be delivered any word on Green Arrow's condition. Batman had keyed a holo-projector in the center of the round table to examine a schematic of the Watchtower as he began the mission briefing.
"You've never said that before a mission." Kid Flash raised his hand.
"What?"
"Which would imply that this mission is different somehow." His own little bird elaborated on his comrade's observation.
Bruce suppressed the urge to growl. There was no sense in becoming annoyed with the kids because they were smart. He never would have allowed the Young Justice Team to be formed if they hadn't been clever. Intelligence was a vital yet deplorably under-rated requisite of heroing. A person could have all the power in the world, but that didn't amount to a single goddamn thing if said hypothetical person didn't have to common sense to control or use that power.
"This will be your first off-planet mission." He said.
The Dark Knight wondered if he should warn the kids about his suspicions that Conner was the one that had captured Clark. At the moment all his evidence was circumstantial, he had never gotten a good look at Clark's opponent's face and all he had to go on were his own observations. True, his deductions were usually right, but he didn't want to send the Team in with a heavy psychological handicap on a 'usually'. And so he refrained from sharing his suspicion. He would tell Robin later, before they left.
"Miss Martian's bio-ship is still locked up in the Cave, so you will be taking my Batwing." He called up a small hollow image of the bat-plane that was also convertible for short bouts of space-travel.
"For serious!" Wally all but jumped with glee.
"Kid, please, no more outbursts." Aqualad shushed him.
Batman continued. "The Batwing handles similarly to a Boeing F/A-XX but with a few small differences. If you continue to climb in altitude, the 'Wing will begin atmo-skipping. With a little cute-maneuvering, Robin, you should be able to achieve escape velocity." Of course he would not even entertain the idea of anyone but his own partner piloting the Batwing and even then Bruce felt nervous. He still didn't let Dick have his own key to the Batmobile. "You will dock with the Watchtower here."
The holo-schematic shifted to zoom-in on and highlight a small sub-docking bay on the opposite side of the station from the main hangar bay –a back door. Of course there was a back door, Batman had designed the Watchtower. What was that old saying about rabbits and escape tunnels?
"There are three places where they could keep Superman –mostly- contained." He continued. "They are the detention cells near the 'tail' of the station, here." The image shifted again and a new section was highlighted. "The interrogation room, here." And other shift and highlight. "Or Superboy's old room, here."
At the mention of their lost comrade the Team's collective mood turned from sober but determined to sullen and mournful. Once again Bruce considered telling them.
"You are to get in, get Superman and get out. Nothing more. No changing he plan, no ill-conceived attempts at heroics, no kamikazes or self-sacrifices. You all come back! If you have to abort in the middle and leave without the Big Blue Idiot then fine, leave. But you kids come home. Have I made myself clear?"
He glared at each of them.
"Superman is just one man. One man who knows the risks of what he does and their consequences. You are five. You're still young and have your whole careers ahead of you and will be more valuable in the long-run than one kryptonian Boy Scout."
Not to mention that they were all his responsibility and Bruce already knew he didn't want to face their parents, families, or kings should any of them fail to return from this mission. Dealing with Clark after Superboy was taken had been hard enough and Clark only just started to bond with the boy then. As bad as it had been with the Superman, it would be a million times worse with real parents whom had raised their children from conception, or uncles from alien cultures that deeply valued family and children, or ruling-class mentors whom had faced down death with their subordinate more times than can be counted.
They all nodded their understanding. Good.
"You all know what to do." Bruce nodded back. "You're dismissed. Artemis, Aqualad, Agent A will return your weapons to you before you leave. Robin, hang back a moment. I'd like a word with you."
There was the scrapping of chairs and the shuffling of bodies as the Team, minus the Boy Wonder, all exited the briefing room. Black Canary followed to offer what help and support she could. Bruce waited until the count of ten after the door had been shut behind them to speak again.
"Stand-up."
Dick did as he was told.
He was so small. True, he was the youngest of the Team, only thirteen years old. But even for his age he was small. Short and skinny. He only came up to just below the curve of Batman's chest. Bruce placed a strong hand on the boy's shoulder and bent down to meet his partner on eye-level. With his other hand he reached into a pouch on his utility belt and pulled out a small lead box. It fit easily in the palm of his own hand, but when he passed it to Dick it looked so large and cumbersome in the petite boy's smaller hand.
"Take this." He said. "Just in case."
"What is it?" Dick lifted the lid to reveal a silver ring set with a bright green stone with a slight glow to it. "Your kryptonite ring! Why? You don't think Clark would…"
He let that unfinished question hang for a moment.
"Clark is not the only kryptonian in this universe." Was Bruce's cryptic explanation.
The boy looked confused. Then his deductive reasoning skills kicked in and his expression turned excited. Bruce might as well have just said flat out that Conner was alive. But then his logic took him that extra step and he arrived at the same conclusion Bruce had. His eyes turned downcast.
"Supey's an enemy now." He said. "That's how Clark was beaten so easily in the first place. He was fighting. Why didn't you tell the rest of the Team?"
Bruce straitened. Dick may be small, but he was smart and he was well trained. He didn't have to worry about his little bird. "I have no facts." The Batman explained. "Only theories. Still, its better to plan for every contingency. Its better to have something and not need it, than to need it and not have it."
Dick nodded, having heard his mentor and foster father say that frequently over the years. He replaced the lid on the ring-box and stowed it in a pouch on his own belt.
…
Watchtower
April 1 – (irrelevant)
Pain lanced through Clark's ears the moment Granny Goodness flipped that switch. A sound emanated from the visor she had pulled down over his head and was echoed and intensified by the nodes on his brow. Clark felt his body convulse at the sensation but there was little else he could do. His restraints held him fast so that all he could do was snarl in protest.
Then, seven beats into the sound, the vile melody, a second melody began. Exactly the same as the first only following slightly later in the secession. It was a canon. Clark gritted his teeth against the dissonant melody that wreaked havoc with his ears and placed a pressure in his head. It was a simple melody but a completed canon in which the melodies were designed for the imitation to occur different pitches –a canon at the second.
The pressure it caused on his head became more localized and he felt a… something brush against the outer barrier of his mind. No! What had the old Granny said? A counter-vibration? Maybe Clark could stop this, or at the very least slow it down if he caused a counter vibration of his own.
A third melody started up, turning it into a canon at the third, and Clark felt his outer barrier fray and break as the thing, whatever it was entered the surface most part of his mind. A place J'onn called his 'Outer Web'.
A counter-vibration… Clark began to hum. 'Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?'
It seemed to work, slightly. The pressure on his head eased. The thing, whatever it was, was no longer moving forward into his mind. But it hadn't retreated either. It was just… there. Halted but not retreating. Clark continued with his humming.
'Yes sir, yes sir. Three bags full… Up a above the world so high…' Wait that was a different song. It doesn't matter, the melody is the same, keep humming! 'Like a diamond in the sky… Baa baa black sheep…'
…
(somewhere between Earth and Watchtower)
April 1 – (irrelevant)
"That better be your pocket knife I'm sitting on." Artemis snarled.
"Huh? But I don't carry a pocket knife." Kid Flash blinked in confusion, only to realize all to late what the blond archer must be referring to.
The Batwing had been designed as a two-seater and so the Team had to share. Kaldur sat in the pilot seat in front with Robin on his lap so that the little bird had access to the controls. Wally with Artemis in his lap occupied the second seat and finally a small space behind the second seat that had been intended for storing equipment held a misshapen green glob that was M'gann in what was probably the oddest shape-shift the Team had seen her use yet.
Arty used the chair's arm rests to prop herself up enough for the young speedster to readjust himself.
"There!" He snapped.
She lowered herself back down into his lap. "You really are unbelievable. We're on our most badass mission yet and still all you can think about is sex!"
"Sorry, but that thing's got a mind of its own!" Snarled the Kid Flash. "You can't blame me for that when you're sitting right on it!"
"KF," Robin cut in. "Do you think we can save your lovers' spat until the missions over? This is my first time flying this thing and I'd kinda like to concentrate on it. Ya know, instead of setting us to drift in space forever or flying us into the sun."
The spitfire pair quieted down.
"There's Watchtower." The Boy Wonder nodded as the space station came into view. "Kaldur, there should be a switch to your left. Can you flip that for me? I can't quite reach over you." Aqualad flipped the switch that activated the Batwing's cloaking mode. "We should be invisible to there sensors now. I'll fly us around to the docking check-point."
…
Watchtower
April 1 – (irrelevant)
Superboy-Dark lay awake on top of the homemade scrap-quilt that covered the narrow bed. Shortly after taking the Watchtower, he had claimed the Superman's former stateroom as his own. Mostly, just because he had wanted to but also in part because, out of all of the Leaguers' rooms, Kal-El's was the most 'homey'. They were all standard issue small rooms with standard issue narrow beds, but Kal-El had managed to make his seem so much more cozy and inviting.
He lay on the bed, resting but not sleeping, studying the patternless quilt on which he lay. He wondered if Kal had made it himself or if it had been a gift from some grateful victim he'd helped. Neither would surprise him. It was made of the small scraps of many different fabrics, no one patch was wider than three fingers or longer than six inches and none of them were any version of a 'regular' shape. The fabrics and patterns were just as eclectically diverse as their shapes were random; roosters over a backdrop of blue and brown home-spun cotton, paisley on wool, polyester power rangers… even some bits of solid blue fabric that Superboy-Dark would have sworn came from Kal-El's superman uniform.
He rolled over on the narrow bed, pulling the quilt around him. Not because he was cold, his kryptonian heritage ensured that he was comfortable in almost any temperature, but just because it felt nice to be completely enveloped by something soft and comforting. That was something that his two weeks on Apokolips had been lacking. Apokolips didn't really do 'cozy and comfy'. Not that he was complaining or anything. His two weeks on Apokolips had been well spent, honing his skills to be put to the service of Mighty Darksied, and there was no greater honor than being of service to Darksied.
Superboy-Dark was momentarily distracted from his musings by a… thunk.
There was no sound in space. Space was a vacuum, devoid of air which sounds needed in order to travel, so the 'thunk' had to have come from inside the station. The genomorph disentangled himself from Superman's quilt and rolled off the narrow bed to crouch on the floor. He honed his kryptonian hearing, filtering out the usual noise of the station and only focusing on what shouldn't be there.
Yes, there had been a small 'thunk' and now a faint scrapping, almost like… like landing treds scrapping over the hangar floor. The only problem was, the docking bay was on the opposite side of the station that the sound was coming from. That wasn't right.
Robin double-checked his instruments to make sure the Watchtower's oxygen levels, air pressure and temperature were still acceptable for humans before opening the Batwing's cockpit. The moment the hatch was open everyone all but leaped out, happy to be back in an open space and not cramped together like sardines. There was much signing and groaning as everyone stretched their muscles and cracked their backs.
"Miss Martian, please establish a telepathic link." Kaldur commanded in that impossibly polite way of his.
"Already done." M'gann nodded. They had been doing this for almost a year now. She knew what to do.
"Alright." The atlantian nodded. "Everyone knows what to do?"
They all nodded.
"Then let us go."
…
(A/N #1: As I continue to use kryptonese in my story I find that Kryptonian(dot)Net is less and less helpful. Some of the "kryptonese" in this chapter is actually Yiddish. I figure using a language I already know would be better than making one up and Spanish seemed to commonly used a language to seem "alien" enough and I try not to use Japanese unless the story takes place in Japan or the character is Japanese. So, Yiddish it is then!)
(A/N #2: Ha! They did the same thing with Twinkle Twinkle and Baa Baa Black Sheep in the latest episode that I did in this chapter! I considered changing it after I saw that but I decided not to. There's nothing wrong with being unoriginal. Besides, I think it's a good way to show Clark's disorientation and mental strain. Some trivia: Not only do those two songs share that same tune, but so does the Alphabet Song.)
(A/N #3: -sigh- I had wanted to get this chapter up on Firday, well, we all see how well that turned out.)