10. Children of Two Worlds

In another lifetime, Clark thought to himself, maybe he would have rather been Jonathan and Martha Kent's biological son. A normal human in a normal Kansan family, worrying more about the fields and crops of the farm rather than the countries and people of the world. He could have settled down—maybe with Lois, or perhaps with someone closer to home like Lana—had a few kids of his own, made a good and honest living, walked the earth for a bog-standard seventy-five years, collected his Social Security, and then died peacefully in his sleep. There was something quaint and altogether comforting in that kind of existence, one that freed him from the responsibilities he had been burdened with before his birth. An existence where he would've been… normal. He really would have been nothing more and nothing less than Clark Kent, and that would have been just fine.

Not the last child of a doomed, faraway world sent to safety as the hopes and dreams of his family and people.

That was a lot of pressure on a person, to put it mildly.

At least now he wasn't all that was left of Krypton, even outside of Zod and his band of crazies. Kara, his cousin, was with him now on Earth. The thought of her made Clark smile a little. She was different than anyone he knew, except for maybe the absolute oddity that was Barry Allen, and she brought an energy that was in part alien and yet eminently relatable. To her, Earth was a new world. To him, she and the other Kryptonians were a new people. Despite the mirrored similarities between all of it, they were diametrically opposed in terms of their experiences due to that mirroring. In that asymmetry was a beautiful brilliance, the coming together of wonderfully varied and diverse perspectives that lent itself to a sense of adventure and discovery. He had seen it when Kara was with his parents, and he had felt it when he and Kara had finally gotten to know each other just a little bit more with the memory of his biological father. Clark sincerely hoped that they would have more opportunities like that after they had dealt with Zod.

That thought brought Clark right back to reality.

"Did you get that, Superman?" Lieutenant General Swanwick snapped. The older man was at the end of the conference table, hands on the wood as he stared at the Man of Steel. "This isn't the time to be daydreaming."

Clark's eyes darted to Batman, who was still armor-clad. Of course, Clark could've manipulated his vision to peer just beneath that layer of titanium alloy, but he had too much respect for Bruce to do that without the other man agreeing to it. There was that unspoken but mutual regard between the two of them that had existed ever since they had first teamed up. As it turned out, his own powers were perfectly complemented by Bruce's unparalleled mind, and they had made a more-than-formidable duo.

Now, they were a Justice League. Whatever that meant. Clark wasn't sure yet, though he could think of a few things to say about it if he were to be put on the spot. That was the Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter in him.

"Yes, General," Superman responded a small smile as he flicked his eyes back to Swanwick. Perfectly practiced, of course, as it had to be for the many photo-ops that Superman had in Metropolis alone. "You'll be sending in aircraft to attack the Kryptonian ship from above while you want me to come in from below."

Swanwick eyed him for a moment before nodding. "That's correct. Now don't let me catch you dozing off again like that. You might be Superman, but that doesn't mean that you don't get to pay attention. We're going to run this op like a well-oiled machine, and we can't do that if our biggest gun doesn't know what to do."

"I understand."

"And you, Batman," Swanwick began, before frowning slightly. "First 'Superman' and now 'Batman' – when I enlisted, the idea that I would be calling people those kinds of names was ludicrous. Now look at me." He shook his head. "Batman," he continued, "you'll be in the air in your… craft. You'll get to fly with my men, but make no mistake: you will take orders from the mission commander. No 'ifs,' 'ands,' or 'buts,' you hear me?"

"I hear you, General," Batman responded, his voice modulated through the filter of his helmet.

"I did agree with you, though," Swanwick admitted, "on the idea of evacuating the city. We've already implemented mandatory evacuations of the Metropolis business core, as best as we could. I'm still holding on whether we need to go any further than that, but at least dispersing the population of the city center should reduce casualties."

Superman could imagine a smirk on Bruce's face underneath the armored helmet.

Swanwick sighed and fell back into the barely padded office chair behind him. "Why do I get the feeling that this whole thing's going to go tits up?"

"Alien invasions are hard to deal with, even for the best," Superman replied, shrugging slightly. "We'll do our best, General. You can count on that."

The general pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. Well—"

Whatever Swanwick wanted to say was cut off by the blaring of a klaxon, complete with emergency lights coming to life and bathing the conference room in a dark glow. Superman rose to his feet as Swanwick strode over to the heavy wooden door, pulling it open.

"What's going on out there?" Swanwick questioned one of the soldiers that stood guard outside.

"I don't know, sir," a disembodied reply came back. Clark quickly looked through the wall, seeing a young soldier—no older than twenty-five, most likely—clutching his rifle in fear; his hands were shaking almost imperceptibly to the human eye but very noticeably to Clark's vision. "We got an alert that there's been an attack on the base!"

"This base?" Swanwick asked incredulously. "That's impossible. This is one of the most fortified locations on Earth, in the middle of America."

"It's the aliens, sir!" another soldier called out, and Clark looked to the other wall to see a slightly older soldier standing on that side, her composure somewhat better than the first soldier's. "They've launched an assault on us!"

Swanwick whipped around to Superman. "You've gotta get out there, now. Batman, get in the air."

The two superheroes nodded, with Superman striding past Swanwick and the two soldiers that had stood guard outside. The corridor was a flurry of activity, but Superman ignored that as he saw an exit sign at the end of the hall. In a single burst of speed, he popped to the door, leaving behind a bit more chaos behind him as papers fluttered everywhere. Looking up before opening the door, he could see the threat clearly – a Kryptonian vessel, larger than the dropship that Kara had flown to the Kent homestead, floated above the base, its shields rendering it nigh invulnerable to the scattered counterattacks it experienced. He watched as a missile shot from a shoulder mounted MANPAD system splashed harmlessly against the gunship in a small ball of flames.

Superman didn't bother opening the door, bursting through it instead as he launched himself in front of the soldier who still carried the MANPAD system in his hands. The return fire from the Kryptonian gunship, which would have no doubt ended the soldier's life, splashed harmlessly against Superman's chest, and without a second thought, Superman flew as hard and fast as he could at the gunship with one arm extended. He felt his fist hit the shield evenloping the gunship, but like any scenario with an unstoppable force versus a very movable object, he went right through it and felt his fist continue through the metal hull of the gunship, into the gunship's interior where he saw a number of startled Kryptonian soldiers clad in armor and rebreather masks, and out the other side. The entire gunship erupted into a fireball as its fragments scattered downwards onto the tarmac of the airbase.

For his part, Superman didn't stop to watch – he was too experienced for that. Instead, he quickly collected the soldiers closest in the vicinity of the debris, making sure they didn't get hit by any of the falling metal fragments. Finally, it was over, and Superman came to a stop as Swanwick and Batman strode up to him.

"I didn't even get into my ship," Batman remarked, looking at the wreckage. "Good job."

Swanwick shook his head. "I'd agree, except that gunship did what it came to do. We've lost our entire ground-based fleet. It wiped them out in the first round of attacks. The closest reinforcements we have are at least an hour away, and the Kryptonian mothership is already over Metropolis. We've got no time left."

"We've got this, General," Superman said, nodding at Batman. "Trust us."

Placing his hands on his hips, Swanwick eyed both superheroes up and down. "Fine. Go."

Superman took Batman by the waist and flew him up, spotting Batman's jet already automatically coming toward their location with its cockpit open. Dropping Batman into the craft, Superman turned and flew in the direction he knew best – toward Metropolis.

"Batman, everything good?" Superman asked over his commslink.

"Yep," Batman replied curtly. "Swanwick and the Air Force are locked out of our comms – we can hear them, but they won't be able to hear us unless we want them to. I'll keep behind you, but I won't be able to take as much flak as an entire airwing."

"Hopefully, you won't have to," Superman replied. Already, he could see the Kryptonian mothership in front of him in the distance. A blue beam emanated from its core into the ground, and the destruction it was causing was plainly visible to him. It only made Superman want to push harder, to fly a little faster, but leaving Batman behind was not particularly conducive to a two-prong attack if both prongs showed up separately at different times.

"Coming up on the mothership," Batman said over the comms. "I'll go high and you go low."

"Roger that," Superman responded. He swooped downward, descending through the high-rises and skyscrapers of Metropolis' central business district at astounding speed. The destruction was immense. Cars were flattened, buildings were crushed, and the people, the ones that didn't make it out during the evacuation of the city… what Clark saw boiled his blood and made him want to rage in anger. They were regular folks, normal people just going about their daily lives and routines when Zod showed up to take it all away from them. It wasn't fair to them at all.

"There's a strange gravitational field around the mothership," Batman reported. "I can't fly too close, and nothing I fire even comes close to landing."

Superman didn't respond, instead booming through the nearly empty streets of Metropolis and coming ever closer to the three legs of the mothership. He cocked a fist back, fully intent on shredding right through the ship and finding out what the largest example of Kryptonian shipbuilding had to offer in terms of durability. Before he could, though, a figure burst through a building on his right and collided directly into him, causing them both to slam into a neighboring building's office floor. Thankfully, it was deserted, but Superman still cautiously rose and looked around with his x-ray vision before turning to the figure.

"Zod," Superman snarled. The Kryptonian general had decided to shed his armor and mask, donning a black outfit and flowing cape that almost looked like a dark mirror of his own. Even the crest on Zod's chest was similar in shape yet different in design.

"Kal-El," Zod said calmly. He strode forward, causing Superman to involuntarily take a step back. "I have been expecting you."

"What have you done?"

"What I always planned to, Kal." Zod raised both of his arms up to the sides. "This… all of this. What the humans call 'civilization' is nothing more than a backwater. You would never have seen something like this on Krypton outside the annals of distant history. At our peak, we spanned across the entire planet, cities alone as populous as this world, and we harnessed all it had to offer."

"Is that why Krypton died? Because you and your people exhausted all it had for your own ends?"

Zod made an expression that bordered between frustration, anger, and superiority. "And what do you know of Krypton's destruction, son of El?"

"I know what Kara told me," Superman responded. "I know that your high council didn't realize what they were doing until it was too late, and that my father and uncle were the only ones that figured it out."

"Ah, Kara Zor-El – the traitor," Zod sneered. "She is a young and foolish girl, naïve to her core and lacking perspective and understanding. As with all at that age, she believed that she alone knew the truth. No, Kal-El; there were many things she did not understand." Zod began to stride obliquely to Clark across the carpeted office floor. The lights above him blinked erratically, and sparks flew out of dislodged ceiling tiles from the damage their landing had caused. "The Council had discovered the follies of their ways when it was already too late to stop it. That much is true. But what Kara did not understand was that I had already persuaded the Council and formulated a plan to ensure the survival of our people, even if they could not do the same for our world. Everything I did was with their tacit consent, down to me and my people becoming exiles to escape the destruction of our world."

Superman scrunched his face. "So, you and your council abandoned everyone else? That just sounds like bad governance."

Zod stopped, turning to face Superman directly. "Do you understand what we went through?" His eyes were almost bulging in their sockets, and spittle flew out his lips. "To know that our world and our people were about to be destroyed and that we were the last hope for survival? To know that we alone would escape doom and awake to see nothing but the ashes of our people in the debris field of our once-great civilization?" Zod clenched his fists. "You do not understand. You can never understand. Jor-El sent you to this world when you could scarcely open your eyes. Even Kara Zor-El has more perspective than you."

"Maybe so," Superman admitted. "But that doesn't mean that I'll let you destroy my world like you destroyed your own."

"I want you to try as hard as you can, son of El," Zod cruelly smiled, the expression little more than a mockery of what a smile should have looked like. "Once I defeat you and take the Codex from your corpse, I will rebirth Krypton on this world in the blood of humanity – a greater Krypton than has ever existed."

Superman didn't deign to respond to Zod's maniacal schemes, shooting forward instantly with a punch ready. However, before he could throw it, Zod kicked with one foot into Superman's chest, sending him tumbling through floors of the building before emerging into the open street on the other side.

"I was born, Kal-El," Zod continued as floated down, "to be the perfect warrior. Nothing less could be expected for Krypton's guardian. I spent my entire life honing myself for that purpose. I mastered my senses on this world instantly, and when I had found what it had done for you, I bathed myself in that yellow star you call a Sun. Did you really think that because you landed a single blow, you stood a chance against me?" Zod's eyes glowed a dark red. "I am superior in every way. I was designed to be."

Angry beams of heat vision, almost crackling like lightning, poured forth from Zod's eyes, slicing through the concrete road and almost hitting Superman before he leapt out of the way. But almost in the blink of an eye, Zod was there again, a punch flying out that caught Superman in the jaw and sent him flying down the street. The shockwave from the blow shattered the windows of nearby buildings.

"I awoke twice in this life, Kal-El," Zod remarked almost casually, floating slowly toward Superman in an upright pose. "Once, when I was born. And a second time, when I remembered a lifetime of memories that I did not live."

Superman's brow furrowed in confusion as he pushed himself off the ground.

"In that other life," Zod carried on, "that other time, I was right here on this planet. And the attempts of that world's warriors were just as futile against me as yours is today. The man in the plane," Zod looked up at Batman's aircraft, flying around the perimeter of the Kryptonian mothership. "There was one like him there too." He turned back to Superman. "Shall I tell you how he died there, or shall I show you firsthand?"

Without waiting for a response, Zod took off toward Batman's craft.

"No!" Superman yelled, pressing his commlink as he flew upwards in pursuit of Zod. "Bruce! Incoming at nine o'clock, under you!"

Batman didn't respond, but he clearly heard it because he swerved as Zod approached. Even so, Zod shot right through the craft's left wing, causing the entire plane to spin out of control and spiral toward the ground. Superman immediately pulled up beside the cockpit, tearing back the glass and taking Batman, who had unstrapped already, under his arms to pull him to safety.

"That was close," Batman remarked as he watched his no doubt multi-million-dollar plane crash in a fireball against the side of a building.

"Too close," Superman agreed, looking up in the sky where Zod was looking down at them. "You know Zod can hear everything we say, right?"

"I figured," Batman's gruff, robotic tone replied. "But there's nothing we can do about that."

"We're going to need to rethink our approach here. He's got us outgunned by himself. He doesn't even need an army if the two of us are fodder for him. He's just as fast and strong as I am, and frankly he's better at using it than me as well."

Batman followed Superman's stare toward Zod, though Superman was certain that even with his armor's enhanced sensors, Zod was far out of sight for the human. "Well, I'm out of ideas for now."

"Damn. I was really hoping you had something cooked up in that big brain of yours."

Traitor.

That was the word that rang in Kara's head, echoing constantly as she roared in anger and desperation and righteous fury, her hands still clasped onto Faora's shoulders as she pushed the two of them past the rocky cliffs of the desert and over a blue sea.

Traitor.

The water beneath quickly turned into land, first rolling hills and then scattered trees. Settlements ranging from small villages to cities flew past, but Kara only yelled harder as Faora tried to push her off. She kept her grip tight on the woman who had called her that.

Traitor.

Kara was no traitor. Not to Krypton, which she believed in up to the day it exploded. Not to her family—her people—which she had put her faith in even beyond their deaths. She was loyal, perhaps even to a fault, to Zod, even after her memories flooded back in, until the proof of what he wanted to do and of the atrocities he had planned for the people of Earth became too much to ignore. When his hand had finally found purchase in its grip around her throat—the bruises of which still stung on her neck. Yet—

"Traitor!" Faora growled.

If looks could kill, Kara would have been dead already. Their faces were barely apart, and as they flew, Kara's hair brushed against Faora's face depending on the flow of the wind around them. Faora's defiant expression stared Kara right in the face, and her blue eyes glared daggers. Kara said nothing in reply and curved downward, straight into one of the green hills before them. Faora's back went through first, exploding a mass of dirt and earth into the air as they both ended up sprawled on the other side, coming to a stop on the green grass.

Out of the corner of Kara's eye, she saw Faora push herself up to her feet, her head falling back as she inhaled.

"Why, Faora?" Kara struggled out, also rising to her feet. Her red cape billowed out behind her as she stood. "Why would you do this? You know the ways of our people. The Krypton we grew up on—"

"No longer exists," Faora finished. The older woman's armor had been dented and battered in the impact, and Faora began to rip what was left of it off, leaving only her skinsuit with the symbol of the House of Ul on its chest. "That Krypton died. With it, the Sword of Rao. We have been reborn as the Sword of Krypton, the blade upon which our new world will be forged. Krypton must be reborn anew." Faora closed her eyes, and she ascended.

Faora could fly.

It shouldn't have been an unexpected development to Kara considering she could herself, but there was something strange in seeing Faora rise above her, obscuring the Sun behind her, as the older woman felt the rays of light on her and clearly reveled their warmth.

Sunrise on Krypton.

Rao's light had barely become to creep over the horizon, cutting through the hills and mountains that made up much of Krypton's surface. For Kara, she sat on the edge of a rocky cliff, her bare feet dangling freely as her summer dress blew slightly in the light breeze. Had it not been the summer season, it would have been too cold for a Kryptonian to wear so little outdoors at that early hour.

"Fancy a shurrima?" a familiar voice called out. Kara turned to see Faora behind her. The sub-commander was dressed in her usual fashion, a black skinsuit and hair shorter than even Kara's. In her extended hand, she held a small shurrima fruit, a plump and juicy affair when it was ripe. From the color and size, Kara could tell this one was.

"Thanks," Kara nodded, taking the offering. She bit into it as Faora took a seat beside her, relishing the sweet and tangy flavor. A stray line of juice dribbled down from the right corner of her lips, and Faora quickly rubbed it away with her thumb.

"For a high-born lady, you certainly lack table manners, daughter of El," Faora commented, nibbling on her own fruit.

Kara giggled as she took another bite, leading to another drop of shurrima juice flowing where it shouldn't have. "What table, Faora? I see none here."

Faora playfully rolled her eyes before returning to her own shurrima.

Kara examined the older woman for a moment, watching Faora sink her teeth into the flesh of the shurrima and pull back, a trail of saliva running from her lips to the marks on the fruit. Unlike her, Faora left no juice to waste, quickly slurping on the bite to suck in the stray sap within. Her lips danced on the skin of the fruit to form a seal.

They had only met a month prior, when Kara had reached out to General Zod just days after being given the datachip to contact him. The man had introduced her to Faora personally, giving the older woman the responsibility of overseeing Kara for her time with the Sword of Rao. Not that the other woman was much older than her. Despite Kara's recent coming of age into her majority, Faora was still young herself by Kryptonian standards; not more than a fifth into her expected lifespan.

Almost immediately, Kara had found herself captivated by Faora. She was so unlike any woman that Kara had known in her life thus far. Her mother she had never seen beyond the confines of the home and household that her father had established. Her aunt she rarely saw at all. Beyond that, the maids that aided in the maintenance of their house did their best to not be seen, save Glora, Kara's personal maid. But even then, Kara had known from a young age that Glora was always going to be subservient to her despite their difference in age. It was a natural conclusion from their statures in society.

That was not the case with Faora. The House of Ul stood below that of the House of El, but Kara wouldn't have known that from how Faora treated her. And it wasn't as if the other woman had looked down on her for being high-born. No, Faora treated her… like her. Like a real person, not a station in society. In all fairness, she did that for everyone that Kara had seen her interact with. Perhaps it was how she had been engineered in the genesis chamber. Maybe it was the result of her tenure in the Warrior Guild. But whatever it was, it had endeared Kara to her almost immediately.

Even Faora's name was unique on Krypton; unlike every other woman that Kara had known, Faora never introduced herself with her father's name – she was always 'Faora-Ul,' never 'Faora Hu-Ul.' In fact, Kara had not even known the name of the other woman's father until weeks after meeting her. There was something fascinating in that, like Faora was unfettered by the concerns of her house and father, unburdened by the lineage she had come from. She was a woman who looked in the present and to the future, not behind into the past. Kara could scarcely imagine such an existence, yet Faora was right in front of her.

"Thoughts?" Faora's voice came through.

"It's ripe," Kara replied, finishing off the last bit of her fruit. She looked at her fingers, which were now sticky with shurrima juice.

"I have been doing this for many cycles," Faora noted, seeing Kara try to lick her own fingers free of the sticky residue. The Warrior sub-commander reached for her canteen, pouring into her other cupped hand and slathering her own first, which were no doubt as sticky as Kara's. "I would hope that I know what I am doing."

Reaching over with still-wet hands, Faora took Kara's and held them, covering them as well and slowly wiping away the residue.

"Thank you," Kara whispered.

Faora smiled, her head turned to Kara. A stray beam of light shot across the sky, illuminating half of Faora's face in the red-orange glow of Rao. Faora took her hands back, leaving Kara's suddenly cold, and used one to partially obscure her eyes.

"And now Rao rises," Faora breathed out. "I have seen this many times, but I never cease to be amazed by His presence."

Kara didn't watch the sunset; she watched Faora bathe in it instead.

"I had hoped that you would see reason, daughter of El," Faora called out from the sky. "I believed that you would."

Kara looked in time to see Faora speed toward her, taking her by surprise as she was suddenly flung into the sky. Regaining her balance, Kara could only steady herself in mid-air in time to be taken by Faora by her mid-section in a mirror of how they were positioned before.

They flew over low rooftops of red rounded tiles, a far cry from the tall skyscrapers, as they were called, of the cities that she had seen on this world or even the rustic constructions that dominated much of Alegab. With her vision, she could see humans stopping to gawk at the two of them, barreling through the sky over the countryside of whatever region they were in.

This time, Kara had little control, unable to exert enough force to break out of Faora's grasp or to fly freely. They collided into something—a building, Kara thought, if the crumbling debris around them was any indication—and Kara felt the impact of stone bricks against her back as Faora used her momentum to fling Kara into another structure across the stone path. Somewhere behind Faora, a loud ringing sound echoed out as a massive metal bell collapsed onto the ground. Kara's body collided with the wooden beams that made up the building's structural supports, causing its roof to collapse in and bury her under rubble.

The cave was relatively dark, but it had been made into a place where people worked and where some had even taken to sleep in. Of course, at this early hour and on that particular day, no one other than Kara and Faora were there.

Two months had passed since Kara had joined the Sword of Rao, and the day of their planned demonstration to the Council moved ever closer. While that took precedence over the rest of the Sword's activities, Faora had taken Kara under her wing and trained her in all manners of knowledge – at least those that a Warrior like Faora could pass on to a one-day Thinker like Kara.

The two women were about the same height, but Faora had a distinct advantage in build over the lithe Kara, whose body reflected her high-born status and her destined profession. Faora, like all Warriors, had broad shoulders and defined musculature, made all the more visible and apparent by the sleeveless shirts that they wore for their spar. Their skinsuits had to be eschewed; it was already hot enough as it was, much less with the full-body garment that was favored by those of the Sword of Rao.

"Concentrate, daughter of El," Faora murmured, her stance impeccable from pre-birth genetic imprinting followed by years of training. "Anything less would have you lose in real combat."

"Where will I fight someone for real?" Kara huffed in response, her own arms at the ready. Truth be told, she was already tiring rapidly, but she didn't want to show that kind of weakness in front of Faora. She couldn't.

Seeing an opening on Faora's right due to their relative positions, Kara switched stances so that her left hand was in front of her right, jabbing with her left. However, Faora quickly knocked the jab out of the way, taking advantage of Kara's still-extended left arm to pull the younger woman forward and down. Faora fell, controlled, onto her back, her feet wrapping around Kara's waist as they flipped on the ground such that suddenly Kara felt herself with her back on the cold rock floor and Faora on top of her, straddling Kara's waist with a hand on Kara's collarbone. Despite the position, the weight of Faora on top of Kara was not particularly heavy, though it locked Kara out of any possible movement.

"Yield," Faora command. Her short hair, usually styled upward, was slick with perspiration and fell in a messy manner over her forehead. A few beads of sweat even rolled from Faora's face onto Kara's own. The contrast of their tones, Faora's lighter skin against Kara's tanned shade, was almost unnoticeable even in the dimly lit cave, with their figures seeming almost intertwined as one. Kara was not alone in her fatigue; Faora was breathed heavily as well, though she hid it as best she could with her lips slightly parted to intake and exhale more air.

"I yield," Kara whispered. Faora faintly smiled and rolled off of Kara, standing up as she extended a hand to her. Kara accepted the gesture, and Faora pulled her to her feet with surprising strength – though at this point, perhaps Kara shouldn't have found it surprising. After all, Faora was a mighty Warrior.

"In real combat, you should never expect such an offer, Kara," Faora noted, wiping herself off with a small towel before tossing it to Kara. "You must fight to the end, because your enemy will as well. That is what all Warriors are taught – a wisdom born from the tried experiences of countless generations."

"I understand," Kara nodded, wiping herself as well with the slightly damp towel. Faora took a drink from her canteen before passing it to Kara, who likewise took a long draught of the cool liquid within. "But I do not think that I will ever be in that position, Faora. I am to be a Thinker, not a Warrior."

Faora looked at Kara with a strange expression, one that Kara couldn't quite parse properly despite having come to know the other woman closely over the two months they had been together.

"The time may come, my dear daughter of El, when we no longer have a choice, and when all of our destinies will be decided by the choices that we must make rather than the ones we would want to make."

Kara rose from the rubble, raising her head to look at Faora across the street. Already, the inhabitants of the village fled, running as fast as they humanly could as two goddesses from the sky brought destruction across their homes.

"It is not too late," Faora called out. "General Zod is a generous leader. If you prostrate yourself before him and confess your crimes, forgiveness is possible."

Kara shook her head, balling up her fists in anticipation. "There is no forgiveness from Zod that I would accept, and I would never deign to bow my head before a tyrant like him."

Faora scowled, clear frustration visible on her face. "Why must you be so obstinate, Kara? He is the only hope for Krypton, for what is left of our people. Why must you stand against us and not with us?"

Kara walked forward into the middle of the road, and Faora did nothing in response. "It took me a long time to accept it, Faora, but Krypton is gone. That world is never coming back, no matter what we do." Her eyes were defiant. "We should not murder an entire world of people for our own desires and a vain dream, no matter how attractive that dream is."

"You still hold the humans above your own people," Faora said, looking like she was struggling not to cry. "I am… disappointed."

"So am I," Kara responded. "I wish it had never come to this, but you and Zod brought us here. Please forgive me for the choices I had to make."

A memory of remembrance seemed to flicker within Faora. "Yes," she whispered. "The choices."

Without warning, Faora shot toward Kara, closing that small gap of a few steps within a single heartbeat, her fist raised. But Kara was ready, and she parried the strike before using Faora's momentum to throw the other woman into the rubble of the building that Kara's body had previously destroyed. Before Faora could recover, Kara was there, and she pulled Faora from the wreckage to take their battle out of the city and into the valleys beyond.

Faora kicked out, forcing Kara to separate so as to not be hit, and the two ended up stationary in mid-air, staring at each other.

"You have made your choice," Faora intoned, her expression vacant. "I have made mine." Faora loked at the valley beneath them. "This world will be the foundation for a new Krypton. That is my choice. That is the choice I have to make. I will defeat you, and then we will extract the Codex from Kal-El's body to rebirth a new generation of Kryptonians."

Kara felt that familiar anger rise within her at Faora's words – that anger that had once come against Zod in another life, when Zod had said something similar. And suddenly, she felt it. Behind her eyes, the searing heat that boiled over into more.

Frenzied red beams burst out of Kara's eyes, taking Faora by surprise as the other woman tried to block it with her bare hand. There was a screech from Faora as it cut a gash across her palm, but Kara paid no attention as she took advantage of the vulnerability and struck Faora from above, sending her plummeting into the dirt of the valley below with a heavy thud. Kara descended just as quickly, falling on top of Faora, one of Kara's legs on each side of Faora's torso and pinning her to the ground.

"Yield!" Kara cried, her eyes still glowing red, and her right fist still cocked at the ready. She had regained some of her composure. "Do not make me do this. Face the justice of this world instead!"

"Never," Faora snarled, though even her voice and expression betrayed a long-hidden weariness. Kara saw tears welling in Faora's eyes. "I will never yield, and I will never kneel before humans. I must not for Krypton's sake." Faora shook under Kara, unable to escape—though Kara wasn't sure if the shaking was from an attempt to fly away or from something else entirely. "Do what you must, Kara, because I will never stop. I will do whatever I have to! I will defeat you, and kill Kal-El, and destroy all of the humans you hold dear to bring back—"

Kara roared to cut Faora off as that anger returned like uncontrollable bile, her heat vision raging forth in angry streams onto Faora's chest as Kara slammed her fist into the other woman's jaw. Faora shrieked in pain, but Kara ignored it, sending punch after punch into the other woman even as the heat vision melted through her skinsuit, disintegrating the symbol of the House of Ul, and cut into her alabaster skin.

And then, it was over as fast as it began, with Kara's head still pounding and heart racing, as she realized her knuckles were bruised and covered with Faora's red blood. The other woman's howls had died to little more than a whimper as the heat vision had seared her chest, cutting through her breast into the organs beneath. Her jaw was dislocated from the force of Kara's attacks, the skin of her face discolored and her nose broken.

"No," Kara whispered. "What have I done?" She quickly cupped Faora's ruined visage in her hands. "Faora!" Kara ran a hand through Faora's hair as she brought Faora's head closer to her own.

The older woman spluttered slightly, blood coming up with every breath. Her chest rose and fell erratically and wheezed with pain and effort. One of Faora's hands clasped weakly onto the hand that Kara had rested on Faora's shoulder. Her eyes, barely focused, finally fell onto Kara.

"I am proud," Faora struggled out, "of the Warrior you have become." Tears fell from the other woman's eyes. "But if only you… had not… betrayed your own people…" She gave one last great cough, hacking blood that flew onto Kara's face. "K…ara…"

Faora went limp in Kara's arms, her hand falling away from Kara's, her eyes open yet unseeing forevermore.

Kara shook. Faora's blood still dripped from Kara's face, and Kara's hair splayed out messily across her eyes. Her mind was a fractured kaleidoscope of emotions, each racing in competition to dominate what was left of her coherent thoughts. She cradled Faora's broken body in her arms, hugging the dead woman as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. There was nothing left for her to do. Her opponent, her enemy—once an ally, a mentor to be looked up to, and even a friend and more—was dead, and with her, that last little bit of Kara that had been bound and tethered to the rocky vistas and orange skies of Krypton. She had committed one of the high crimes out of justified necessity, ripping a little out of her own heart and soul in the process. So, she did the one thing that felt natural and necessary in that moment, so full of anguish and despair, so uncertain at the future that her own actions had brought forth.

Kara screamed.

To Be Continued