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Supergirl: The Elegy of Stars

Chapter 8: Lamentation

Kara Zor-El winced as the glass shattered.

Not so much because of the shattering itself, but because of the cuts that appeared on her hand, blood faintly visible. As red as any human's, containing cells that were scarce different in function, yet totally dissimilar in genes.

It was painless, and unless one was searching for the cuts, she doubted they'd be able to see them. Seeing the raw pink flesh on her fist, she was reminded of when she'd first arrived on Earth. When its sun had seared her skin.

But that same sunlight, the type of light that had bombarded her less than an hour ago, should have ensured that she shouldn't bleed at all.

She stood there for a good five seconds, the term "steklyannaya pushka"[1] coming to mind, along with phrases such as breaking the glass ceiling. Distractions that weren't entirely unwelcome, because it allowed her to ignore what was in front of her eyes, what was above her, and more importantly, the revelations swirling within her mind.

"Are you alright?"

Unfortunately, being able to ignore Soldier Boy was a feat beyond her powers.

"Fine," she whispered, silently glad for the question. Trying to ignore the trembling in her scarred hand, she hovered in the air so that she could retrieve her skinsuit without her bare feet touching the glass, lest they be cut in turn.

She managed with only a slight wobble. A wobble that pleased her not, but considering she'd only flown for the first time about ten minutes ago, that was hardly an unfancy feat by her reckoning.

But as remarkable as the gift of flight was, it paled in comparison to the technology she held in her hands as she returned to terra firma.

A skinsuit. One that had fit the frame of a five cycle-old child pushed into a pod by her gene-sires as Krypton took its last breaths. A marvel of kryptonian technology that not only extended its wearer's lifespan through its interface with the wearer's epidermis (carrying out tasks such as cellular regeneration), but provided protection as well, such as against Sol's light when she'd first arrived until its circuits had fried, for never had kryptonians intended such suits to be worn beneath anything other than a red sun.

It was a skinsuit she'd never worn again after it was taken off in that bath tub. Nowhere near as resilient as the battle armour used by the likes of the Sapphire Guard or Argonautica, it was still enough to resist most human projectile weapons.

She winced as the memories came back to her. If she'd worn this suit on that day ten years ago, would things have been different?

"Is that yours?" Soldier Boy asked.

"Was," Kara whispered. "Is."

"Isn't it, um, a bit small?"

"For now." She grabbed the bottom of her prison garb, ready to tear it off so she could fit into the suit, but froze – not because of the chill (chill that she was starting to feel, despite the earlier barrage of solar energy having shielded her from it until now), but remembrance of a darker, more recent memory than the one from a decade prior. A memory coupled with the reminder that there was a human male mere feet away.

She looked at him. Words died in her mouth. She made a motion with her head, and to her surprise, he understood and turned away.

She, however, kept her eyes on him as she undid her prison garb, for a moment, standing naked inside the hanger. It would be suicide for the human to try anything on her this time, but memory had a power of its own, greater than that of even a yellow sun. How under the glow of red light, there had been a man – older than him, but male all the same.

He's pressed her down. Ignored her pleas. Her screams. Her tears.

Hell, part of her wanted Soldier Boy to try it. To prove that humanity was irredeemable, that she didn't owe them anything, and in so doing, make this ghastly situation simpler.

His kind had kept her locked up in this place for ten years, she reminded herself. She might not be able to get her revenge against the man who'd tormented her that night, but to do the next best thing?

There was a 'thump' from above – reminder and distraction both. As she began to put on the skinsuit, she put a hand to her stomach.

Still there, she noted, her fingers feeling the scarred tissue. The tissue that, unlike the marks on her arm, had not been healed by the barrage of yellow solar radiation. When she'd first been brought into this facility, the OVO doctors had done as much as was necessary, but no more, and exposure to red solar waves retarded the healing factor Earth's sun had once given her.

And even if the wound on the surface had healed in a sense, the wound beneath never had been.

And never will be, Kara reflected, as she continued to fit into the skinsuit. Wondered, as her eyes lingered on Soldier Boy, what would have happened if he'd been the one holding the gun that day.

Wondered, and in so doing, remembered.

"Kara, you have to come with me. Now."

At first, she'd thought mummy was playing a game with her. Like when they'd played hide and seek last month on her birthday. She'd promised not to use her x-ray vision, and apart from one incy wincy example, had kept that promise. Mummy had found her, she'd found mummy, and after lots of laughing and tickling, the game ended.

But given how her mother had led her to the barn, leading her to the pod stored under it, Kara had deduced that this wasn't a game. She liked games. Games were fun. She'd never been allowed to play as many games on Krypton, as her life had mainly consisted of sleeping, studying, and eating, but on Earth, things were different. Here, she could be a child, and despite her intellect still outstripping that of her adoptive parents, she'd come to enjoy it.

"Promise me," Natalya said as she led Kara to the hatch that led to the cellar beneath the barn. "Promise me that you won't come out no matter what happens. Not until I or Sergei come for you."

"I-"

"And no super-hearing, and no x-ray vision. Please, Kara."

"Mamma, what's happening?"

"Oh Kara, it's…" Stifling a sob, Natalya kissed Kara on the forehead and held her tight. "I love you. Whatever happens, never forget that, my little Snowbird."

Kara would have objected further if not for Kometa letting out a snort, looking at her with his sad, dopey eyes. A change from the way the horse usually looked at her, as thanks to her enhanced abilities under Earth's sun, Kara's speed had long surpassed Kometa's, and he'd never forgiven her for it.

That same speed would be enough to dash out of the barn and find out what was happening, or alternatively, push her mother aside, for her strength had similarly been enhanced. And for a moment, she was tempted to do either of those things.

"Alright mama." Ignoring that temptation, she Natalya a quick hug, gave Kometa a reassuring smile, and descended to hide in the cellar.

She didn't know what was going on, but it certainly wasn't hide-and-seek.

She could hear Natalya walk out of the barn. Temporarily activating her x-ray vision, she could see Kometa in his pen, agitated. She could see the old horse's heart beating faster than it should have. At 27 years of age, Kometa was in his twilight years – born on the night of a shooting star (hence his name), and the farmstead's only horse not sold off or passed away.

Kometa might tolerate her presence at best (apples notwithstanding), but Kara liked to think of him as a kindred spirit, and not just because of their affinity with objects breaching Earth's atmosphere. She was the faster of the two, but she'd rode him on more than one occasion. Imagining she was riding into battle alongside Jo-Mon of old upon her superhorse. Riding with him across the arid plains of Krypton in the Wars of Unification. When he had united the tribes of Krypton beneath his banner, planting the seeds of the Great Houses as chieftains became captains, and captains generals. Houses El, Zod, Ur, and countless others had been born in those wars of conquest.

"Blood bonds us all," Jo-Mon had said, as one tribe after another joined his confederation. A proverb that had lingered in kryptonian culture even a hundred-thousand years after the conquest, and Jo-Mon's solidification as Krypton's greatest hero, especially after the final battle in Urrika when he had freed the continent from the taint of Yuda Kal, and the Children of Juru cult that worshipped her.

But Kara had formed bonds other than blood, and Kometa was no different. Through her x-ray vision she could see the twitches in his muscles. Through her hearing, detect the fear within his snorts. Even a human would have been able to pick up on Kometa's unease. She was tempted to offer Kometa comfort if nothing else, but mummy had made her promise not to use her abilities, and thus, she closed her ears, and restricted her vision to the cellar and nothing more.

It was hardly an impressive collection – it was filled with tools that were hardly ever used, slowly rusting away, like artifacts of the Kryptonian Gold Age[2] or something even more primitive. Basic by even the standards of human technlogy. The exception was the pod that remained in the cellar's centre. The pod that had brought her to Earth.

The pod that, seeking distraction from whatever was happening above, she investigated, peering in like Alice might into a rabbit hole. Only a few lights on its interface were blinking, and chances were they'd blink for decades longer.

In its cockpit was her skinsuit – unused since she'd arrived on this world, but given the itchiness of her t-shirt, Kara was momentarily tempted to put it on. Her hand reached out to touch its fabric, as if to seek connection with the world it had come from. To imagine her hand holding that of her mother's…her real mother's…

Her hand never reached it however as she heard the sound of car doors slamming from above.

Turning away from the skinsuit, she leant against it and put her hands to together – not to pray, as her human mother often did, but to stop them from shaking. She didn't mean to hear the sounds, but her control over her powers wasn't perfect yet – hearing, vision, speed, and as of two weeks ago, the ability to jump over the house in a single leap.

Her parents hadn't been happy about that. X-ray vision was innocuous enough, and relatively easy for Kara to control. Hearing was the most difficult to master, but the easiest to hide from the world. Running faster than Kometa with her super speed? He was getting old, that would be difficult, but not impossible to explain.

But no-one jumped over houses on planet Earth, and Sergei, ever the firmer of the two humans that had taken her in, had had words with her when she'd finally jumped down from the roof.

"You can't do this Kara!"

Or rather, he'd shouted at her. And acting without thinking, she'd shouted back.

"I can do all these incredible things, why shouldn't I use my powers?!"

"Kara, there's people on this world that…Kara, if they knew what you could do, if they knew we'd taken in an alien…"

"Just because Alek was taken away, that doesn't mean I will."

She'd seen the pain in her adoptive father's eyes. Instinct had bid her stop, but giddy with her ever-strengthening powers, her tongue was running faster than her mind.

"Kara, this is not a discussion," Sergei had said softly.

"My parents sent me away, you let him get take away. But I'm not him, I'm not!"

"Kara, enough!"

Throwing her hands up, Kara had looked at Natalya. "Tell him, mum."

"Kara, Sergei is right."

"I'm not Alek."

"No, you're not," Sergei had said. "He knew how to listen."

Kara knew she should have stopped and apologized there. Her gene-sires were dead, but they'd at least made the choice to send her away from Krypton willingly. The people who'd taken her in had not been so lucky.

"But I can help people!"

Yet still she had protested.

"I know you can," her mother had said in a kind voice. "And someday, you will. But the world isn't ready for you."

As she heard the sound of footsteps in the present, her adoptive mother's words sounded prescient in hindsight, but at the time?

"You're always holding me back! Just because you can't do any of this doesn't mean I can't!"

"Kara, get down here right now!"

"You act like you're my real parents, but you're not! I hate you!"

"Kara…"

"I hate you!"

She'd stormed up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door with such force that she'd broken the hinges. And, lying on the bed, wallowing in rage and guilt, Kara had feared that she'd broken a lot more. Kindness had loosened her tongue, and in so doing, exposed how barbed it could be.

The last two weeks had been tense. Sergei had fixed the door, and unlike all the other times on the farmstead, had refused any help from her. She'd apologized – genuinely – but while Natalya understood, Sergei didn't seem interested.

"Give him time, Kara," Natalya had told her. "Sergei's heart is like gold encased in iron. You need to wait a long time for it to open up."

"There was lots of gold on Krypton," Kara had blurted out. "Or…did I say a wrong thing?"

"No, Kara, it's just…Sergei knows you've seen things he can only dream of, and that…he loves you, Kara, but he loved Alexander too. He loves listening to your stories about space, but he was born in the age of Sputnik and Vostok. He watched his country reach the stars, then found a little bird who came from them, and knew more about space in her finger than he did in his mind."

"Oh," said Kara, starting to understand. "Did I hurt him?"

"No, my little Snowbird, of course not. He loves you, just as much as I do. But Sergei…he just needs time." Her gaze had lingered on a picture of the brother Kara wished she had known. "We all do."

Time. It had been thirteen months since her arrival, and he still needed it. And as Kara struggled to contain her powers and obey Natalya, she cast her mind back to the two weeks before the door incident. That morning when she'd woken to the sound of birds, of Sol's light shining upon her face (caressing her rather than burning her skin, now she had begun to adapt), and been called down to the kitchen table.

She'd stumbled out, bleary eyed (she'd stayed up reading The White Guard – remembering Zod's attempted coup, it had struck a bit too close to home) before beholding the strange, circular pink and white foodstuff on the kitchen table that her parents explained was called "cake."

"For me?" she'd asked.

"Happy birthday Kara," mummy had said, before kissing and hugging her.

"A what-day?"

Kryptonians didn't have birthdays. They were born, they lived, they died after living a long time – festivals were a holdover of a more irrational, less scientific past, and there was no specific reason to celebrate reproduction.

And even if they did, this wasn't her birthday. She had no real idea when her birthday was, but barring some astronomical chance, it certainly wasn't today, be it on the Terran calendar or otherwise.

So she asked her mother why her 'birthday' was being celebrated on this day of all days.

"This was the day you came to us," Natalya had explained. She walked Kara over to the cake, where there were six blue candles in a circle, and one red one in the centre. "Six candles for your age, and one representing the year you've been with us."

"But I'm not sure if I really am six," Kara had said. "I mean, if we work out Krypton's rotational period, and cross-reference it with Earth's, factoring in the length of the day, and…oh, I'm overthinking things, aren't I?"

Neither of her parents answered, and again, Kara had feared that she'd said something wrong. It wasn't just that they'd never had a birthday before, there was also the lingering issue that their son would never have another one. Him being related to them by blood, she would have thought they'd spend more time remembering his death than celebrating her life. Birthdays might not have been celebrated on Krypton, but certainly the lives of those who had come before them were.

Yet somehow, these two kind, simple people had found it within themselves to celebrate the day she'd come into their lives. She, the lowliest of the high within the Great Houses, was worth it in her adoptive parents' eyes and…

And she couldn't help it. She'd hugged them.

"Careful, Kara, careful."

"Sorry." Not wanting to break her adoptive mother's bones, she'd given daddy a similar hug, and sat down in front of this strange concoction called "cake."

Mummy explained that she had to blow the candles out, but not before making a wish. Kara doubted that wishing on six small flames would actually change anything (unless the Zaryanovas were secretly imps from the Fifth Dimension), but nevertheless, she made a wish, she blew…

And one cake was splattered against the wall, along with half the furniture.

"Oh." She'd looked up at her parents. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

They'd simply laughed, and Sergei had set the cake up again, giving Kara of the House of El her first taste of this alien substance.

That had been a month ago. Now, the taste of frosting had left her mouth, and all that landed upon it now was the dust of the cellar.

Dust and silence.

Dust and ashes.

Not the ashes of this place, but the ash of a world long gone. Unable to leave her mind. Coming back to her as her heart pounded, and…

She couldn't help it. She closed her eyes, but could not do so her ears. And unable to control it, her super-hearing ran rampant.

In the moment, Kara's skinsuit adjusted itself – stretched outward to suit her frame of sixteen years.

Or was it sixteen cycles?

Did it even matter?

What good was enhanced sight when all she could see was tears?

What good was super-hearing when no sound echoed in the world bar her cry?

What good were any of these powers when they hadn't been able to save the people she loved most?

"Get the hell off my property!"

"I will, when we have what we come for."

Kara's ears pricked as she remained in the cellar. The first voice belonged to her father. The second was male as well, but one she didn't recognize.

"I don't know what you people are doing here, but if you don't leave right now, I'm going to-"

"Let's dispense with the hysterics, Mister Zaryanova. Let's start by you telling me how many six year olds do you know that can leap over houses."

A rock fell in Kara's stomach with the weight of a neutron star.

"None," Sergei snapped. "Because they don't exist."

"Until two weeks ago, I would have believed you – the realm of comic books and pulp fiction. But two weeks ago, one of our satellites took this image."

Kara couldn't see what the image was. But she heard the sound of paper exchanging hands. Heard her parents' heart-rates pick up.

"Well?" asked the man. "Care to explain why you have a little girl who's leaping like Perperuna?"

"A fake," Kara heard her mother say (along with the crack in her voice). "Come now, don't be ridiculous."

Kara began to rock back and forth.

"Ridiculous," she heard the voice muse. "Yes, of course. I thought so too. Of course, that was before we flew a drone over this place and detected an unusual source of energy coming from within this radius. Which is very interesting, because thirteen months ago, Roscosmos detected a bolide that hit this region. One that, interestingly enough, didn't leave any debris, but did have an unusual energy signature of its own. One that doesn't meet anything in our profile, which our scientists have theorized belongs to an element not on the periodic table. A signature that, coincidentally I'm sure, matched the profile of the one the drone detected."

Kara looked at her pod in dread. Beyond the barn, she could hear twelve heartbeats, two of them much faster than the others.

"So," said the man. "You can waste my time, or tell me where your alien freak is. Bear in mind that if you choose the first option, I have full authority to tear your farm apart."

"Go away! We've nothing for you!"

"Nothing? I thought you'd be a bit more loyal, Mister Zaryanova. Your son died fighting for this country, the least you could do is follow his example."

"My son lost his life fighting your Godforsaken war, I won't give my second one and-"

Kara heard Sergei let out a yell. Terrified, Kara tried to see what was going on, but while her super-hearing was working overtime, her x-ray vision failed to manifest. Stress, she wondered? Fear?

If so, fear that was increased a hundredfold as she heard the sound of a metal object hitting bone.

"Sergei!" she heard Natalya scream. Louder even than the sound of bone breaking.

She heard her mother cry and curse. She begged the men to go away, but Kara could tell from the shouts (both her parents' and the men above) that they were doing no such thing.

Her mother's shouting was interrupted as something hit the back of her head. Kara winced, and continued to do so as she heard the men enter the house.

Plates shattered. Cupboards torn over. Men raiding the fridge and laughing about cake as they moved through the house.

"Stop it!" Natalya begged.

Stop it, Kara Zor-El prayed, be it to the god her human mother worshipped or otherwise.

"You can end this right now, Mrs Zaryanova."

"We don't have anything for you."

"Tell me where the alien is, and this will end."

"There is no alien."

"Tell me!"

The man hit one of her parents again – Sergei, Natalya, she couldn't tell. Kara rose to her feet, which felt like they were on fire. She ran her hands through her hair, ready to tear it out.

Her mother had told her not to use her powers. But her mother wasn't telling the soldiers anything, and was paying the price for it. She'd already started listening so, wiping her tears away, she got to her feet and used her x-ray vision.

Her world turned shades of grey, yet darkness was all she beheld.

The soldiers were tearing the house apart. Not to find anything, but to simply make a point. They tore through the Zaryanova farmstead like Sagitari would a Rankless district in Kandor, just to find a single suspect. As a daughter of the House of El, she'd never thought much of the stories that sometimes reached Argo's ears, and even after seeing a Sagitari use a plasma rifle on a Rankless, she'd been able to accept the justifications by her gene-sires.

But now?

It had been cruel then. It was cruel now. Only by living in El Spire had she been isolated from it.

"Stop it," she whispered.

Her parents were kneeling – kneeling as Zod had once demanded the people of Krypton do before him at the start of his coup. Two soldiers had guns to each of their heads, while their commander yelled at them, his words scarce comprehensible.

"Stop," she whispered again, even knowing none could hear her. "Please, stop it…"

The Zaryanovas had warned her about this. For the last thirteen months, she'd experienced the heights of human kindness. Now, at long last, she was seeing the depths of human cruelty.

It wasn't the kind of cruelty that had the means to destroy planets, or wipe out civilizations, or enslave entire species, but it was cruelty all the same. Cruelty at the tip of a small knife that cut through her breast.

Perhaps the soldiers already knew where the pod was, and wanted to get her parents to talk.

Perhaps they genuinely thought she was hiding in the house somewhere.

Perhaps they were doing this simply because they could.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. Too many perhapses.

Perhaps she should just run away. She was already stronger and faster than any normal human – strong and fast enough to escape now and never look back.

But she could hear her parents pleading. Weeping. Cursing. If she ran now, if she turned her back on them, she could never look herself in the mirror again. And had she not insisted she could help people with these abilities?

For a moment, Kara Zaryanova closed her eyes. Whispered, "stop it."

The moment after that?

She leapt through air. Launched herself through the cellar door, through the barn roof, shooting into the sky like a bird trying to catch a plane.

But all birds had to land eventually. And in Kara's case, she landed on the grass in front of the soldiers.

"Stop it!" she yelled.

The soldiers outside the house turned toward her in shock. Inside the house, the soldiers fell silent and rushed back out, their guns pointed at her.

For a moment, the world fell silent, as all eyes looked at the little girl standing on the grass. Fists clenched, breathing heavily. A weapon still on its leash.

The commander walked up to her – she could heard his heartbeat, but his sneering tone belied his fear.

"So," he said. "This is the alien freak. Nice jump, by the way, maybe we could use you in the Olympics. But I'm afraid you have to come with us, little girl, because-"

Moving faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, Kara ploughed straight into him.

She felt (and even heard) half the bones in his chest break as he was sent flying a good ten metres. Before he came to lie on the summer grass, motionless.

Perhaps she'd killed him. Perhaps not.

In that moment, it didn't matter.

The other soldiers readied their rifles. Looking at them, she saw horror within their eyes.

In hers, they saw hatred.

They began to pull the triggers.

She was faster, as she ploughed into the two by her parents.

Men shot.

Men screamed.

Kara could hear gunfire above.

She could hear men screaming.

She could hear Soldier Boy's heartbeat. Feel the shift in the air as he looked upward in fear

Terror.

Wherever they trod, kryptonians brought it.

Kara moved so fast, the bullets didn't hit her.

She did, however, hit the men firing at them.

Hard.

She had fought before, on Krypton. She had been reasonably good at it, when she'd stepped in to protect Ta-Li from Zeta-Rhee. None had faulted her actions, yet she had found no joy in them. The ability to fight well meant little to a child of the Thinker Caste. On Krypton, people like her were not meant to fight, period.

Now, things were different. These men wearing black uniforms in the summer heat. A hot day in which mad blood stirred.

She thought not what would happen after this. What would happen to the farm, to Kometa (whose cries of terror she could hear from the barn) to her own being. All that mattered was protecting the people who had protected her from the moment she set foot upon this world.

So she fought. She screamed. None could stop her. These people had left her no recourse but to fight, and unlike on Krypton, she began to enjoy it.

She was a kryptonian beneath a yellow sun. She was a goddess to them.

But then, humanity had had plenty of gods before, and as one of their philosophers had said, mankind had a nasty habit of killing them.

So as she charged one of them, as the man raised his rifle, as he fired before she could reach him…Kara Zor-El died.

Nearly.

She was fast. The bullets were not faster, but they hit her with enough force to slow her trajectory.

She let out a cry – most of them bounced off her skin.

One of them didn't.

Had she been human, the bullets would have killed her instantly. Had she been on Earth longer, her skin would have been so resilient, no human weapon in any national arsenal would have been able to harm her. But at the age of six, and having been exposed to Earth's sun for a mere thirteen months, only seven of which could be called a net benefit…she was strong, but far from invincible.

Momentum carried her forward as she rolled across the grass. She placed a hand to her stomach, her ears ringing, her eyes blinking. She put her hand in front of her face.

Blood?

Kara looked at her hand. The blood was no longer there.

The wound in her stomach still was.

Had she been able to recover, Kara might have been able to win the day.

Had she been wearing her skinsuit, perhaps she would have not been so wounded.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. How many saints and philosophers had tormented themselves over the simple question of "what if?"

But so wounded, Kara had no recourse as the remaining soldiers came over to her, and brought the butts of their rifles down upon her.

Soldiers that she'd believed incapacitated joined them.

They hit her.

She screamed.

The blows by themselves did little damage, but shot and shaken, she couldn't resist.

She crawled into a foetal position, like a child unwilling to leave the genesis chamber. Any joy in battle evaporating beneath the summer sun.

Someone put a collar around her neck attached to a pole, as if she were some rabid animal.

Two more followed – one on each of her wrists.

She was yanked to her feet and blood stained the white shirt she was wearing. Fell upon the grass, just as the plains of Urrika had been stained by the blood of Juru. Jo-Mon had fought to the end, and in so doing, saved Krypton from a great darkness.

All her life, she had looked up to figures like Jo-Mon, Val-Ro, Seg-El, Son-Ja…All of them heroes in their own way.

But unlike them, she had failed.

The men's commander rose to her feet. She'd broken bones, and he was struggling to breathe. But she had not wounded him so far as to prevent him from giving orders.

"Subject…containment…pod…now."

The next few minutes were a blur.

Her parents were screaming.

Kometa was whinnying, terrified, falling silent only as two men opened the barn door, and silenced the horse with quick, efficient bursts.

Kara wept. She screamed. She struggled. But her body was giving out, her strength leaving her. She would later reflect in the depths of a cell specially designed for her that her solar-charged cells were working overtime to clot the wound, which in turn, robbed her of the rest of her abilities.

"Not my Kara! Please, not my Kara!" Natalya wailed

"Mamma!" Kara called out. "Mamma, please!"

Natalya was kept down by one of the soldiers. Sergei, however…

Sergei managed to get free. He charged at the soldiers holding his adoptive daughter.

A man raised his gun. He fired.

Sergei Zaryanova fell to the ground.

Kara screamed, even louder than her mother did.

She screamed, and eardrums were ruptured.

She screamed, and windows shattered.

She screamed until a needle was plunged into her neck, able to breach her skin now that her powers had shifted to keeping her alive.

Her vision lingered on her mother, wailing over the body of her husband.

I'm sorry, Kara thought. I'm so, so sorry…

Before she lost consciousness, she thought that it would have been better if she'd used her own life to save her father's.

And when she woke up? As she screamed inside a cell bathed in red solar waves, as her screams turned to tears, as she punched and pounded the door before collapsing?

She thought the same.

And not for the last time.

The skinsuit finished adjusting to her frame.

The skinsuit she should have worn that day. The one that might have saved her from taking a bullet, and in so doing, allowed her to save her adoptive family.

What would have come after that was a question she had no answer to. Perhaps she would have helped people, just like she told Natalya she could. Perhaps this suit would have adjusted over a period of years rather than minutes. Despite their resilience, stronger than even the most advanced human body armour, skinsuits such as this were even more flexible than human swimwear. From the smallest child to the mightiest warrior, the skinsuit could stretch or shrink itself to adjust the kryptonian's frame, without any cost of resilience or function.

Function that had mostly, yet not entirely been completely restored, she noted, as the suit failed to heal the scarred tissue it now covered. A wound never healed.

Without trying, she could hear above what she had on the farmstead nearly eleven years ago.

Shots. Screams.

Bones breaking. Lives ending.

The men who were dying above were in the same organization as the men who'd come to the farm that day. The men who'd killed her father. Kometa. Possibly even her mother.

She'd asked her captors about Natalya. Begged them, even. She understood that she'd never be released from this place, that she'd never again see the glow of a yellow sun, but if she could just be told as to whether Natalya Zaryanova was alive?

They always refused. One year followed by another, until Natalya's face became as mist within her mind's eye. Joining the memories of those who had come with her, and before.

Sergei Zaryanova. Zor-El. Alura In-Ze. Jor-El. Lara Lor-Van. Zaltar. Ta-Li. Even little Kal.

Not forgotten. But fading.

"You can turn around now," Kara whispered.

Soldier Boy did just that. Where once there had been a girl in tattered prison garb, now there stood one in the heraldry of her house.

She tried to read his expression. Part of her wanted him to bask in awe – awe that, as a daughter of House El, she was entitled to. Another part felt small – like an imposter. That this suit was meant to be worn by a different, better kryptonian.

"You look-"

His words were interrupted as the world shook– an explosion, Kara supposed. She didn't know what kind of hardware was on the surface (tanks, helicopters, missiles), but whatever the OVO had in this place, it still wasn't enough.

These people were reaping the whirlwind. Part of her welcomed it. And yet, as she saw the fear in the human's eyes, the same fear that had been in hers on that dark summer's day…

Hate was not as easy to sustain as General Zod had made it seem. He had hated the Council's ineptitude so much that he was willing to direct the Sword of Rao from the shadows. Use it against the targets he was supposed to defend while attempting to root them out, only to reveal himself to the world as the man who'd played all sides so he could seize power.

In Kara's understanding, required mastery. Or perhaps she was just that weak.

"What is she?" he whispered, looking upward.

"A daxamite," Kara answered, uttering the first lie to come to her mind because the truth of what that woman really was was one she couldn't bring herself to admit right now. "They look like me, they have the same abilities as me[3, but while they might look like my people but aren't."

Soldier Boy remained silent.

"Like your people," Kara said, trying to inflict her voice with malice. "That's why she's welcome to do to you what she did to me."

"But those people…"

"Yes?" Kara snapped.

"Those people," Soldier Boy began, "have families. Is she going to kill them too? More?"

"Let her."

"Do you know how many of us are conscripted?"

Kara winced – she didn't know. Soldier Boy had already admitted to being as such, and not for the first time, she was reminded of Aleksander. Did he have a family waiting for him as well? Had they protested when a gun had been shoved into his hands? Did he have a mother praying for him to return, or a little sister yearning to know a brother she'd never met?

He wasn't Aleksander, she reminded herself, and in so doing, was reminded of the photos she had once seen. The kindness in his smile.

But there was no kindness in this place. Conscripted or not, the people here had treated her like an animal. Worse than even a Great House would have treated a Rankless.

"Everything dies in the end," Kara said eventually.

"How many innocent people are going to die before-"

"Sergei was innocent!" Kara yelled, grabbing the human by his uniform and lifting him to his feet. Fire flared within her eyes – fire that she wished she could have used ten years ago.

She wanted to hurt him. Break him, incinerate him, crush him. She wanted to do all that, and more. And yet, as she began to speak, her grip loosened.

"Sergei was innocent," she whispered. "He was innocent, and he was good, and decent, and you people killed him."

"You people?"

"People like you," she whispered, letting him return to the ground. "Wearing that uniform, they came, and…and they…"

And the last time we spoke, I said that I hated him.

The fire and fury above was dying down. Kara stumbled away from Soldier Boy, her eyes upward. What she did in the next few minutes could determine the fate of this entire country, nay, world. She had to act now, because if the woman wasn't stopped before the sun rose…

Why should I stop her at all? She looked at her pod. I might finally have the means to go home. Krypton shouldn't exist, but somehow it does. With me. Somehow. But whatever Krypton is, was, or will be, it has to be better than this place.

A contestable statement, she supposed, as she remembered the sights of Earth's skies. Its birds and beasts, its sun, its clouds, its stars. Its people.

I don't owe these people anything, she reminded herself, looking at the soldier beside her – a boy barely worthy of the name, who couldn't even fit into a proper warsuit. The way these primitives are going, they'll likely destroy this planet themselves.

She turned her back to him, ready to fly off then and there, or perhaps turn her attention to one of the vessels.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for what people did, what I did, for what we did, but if you don't help us then…"

He knew the answer. He didn't know the correct question. For in her mind, it wasn't so much as to how many people would die (she knew the answer – 8 billion), but rather, what type of people would die.

People like Natalya and Sergei Zaryanova would die.

People like the child she'd once been would die.

Saints would die along with sinners, and if she didn't at least try to stop that from happening, what did that make her?

"You are a miracle, my little Snowbird," her mother's voice echoed. "My daughter from the stars."

She wasn't a miracle, she told herself. She was just lucky.

"Did you not survive your planet when none else did?"

Apparently not, if what she'd seen via the pod was to be believed.

"What are you if not a miracle?"

"A scientist," she whispered in response.

"What?" asked Soldier Boy.

"I'm not a warrior, I'm a scientist," Kara said, running with her mistake. "I can't fight, I'm not even a particularly good scientist, and…oh Rao, I can't save you."

"You saved me," he pointed out. "You flew."

True, she supposed. But he was just one person. How on Krypton could she save everyone else?

Yet how could she refuse to try with the abilities she now possessed? Had she stood back when Zeta-Rhee had assaulted Ta-Li? When the OVO men had come to her adoptive parents' farm?

How many people like Aleksander would be sent off to fight and die in a doomed war if the woman above was allowed to run rampant? How many children would that monster tear from parents' arms? If Aleksander returned from war tomorrow, discovered his sister, and found that she'd ran from the war being fought today, how could she look him in the eye?

How could she look at herself? How far could she fly until a mirror caught up with her?

Her mind raced. But her heart had already made its decision.

"Bring me that sheet," she whispered.

"What?"

"The white one," she said, pointing to the sheet that had covered the glass case.

He obeyed. Taking it in her hands, she promptly ripped it in half, and wrapped one of the halves around her neck.

"What are you-"

"Watch," she whispered.

The skinsuit reacted as she knew it would. On Hadred's Head, her father had offered her a white cape like this one. A cape she had refused, knowing she was not ready for it. After passing the Trials of Adulthood, her skinsuit, glyph, and cape would change to reflect the colours of her house, but the design of the attire in of itself would not change.

It was not entirely the same – the cloth of the sheet was tawdrier than even the clothing worn by a House Minor. But the skinsuit, interacting with the cloth, was able to strengthen it.

Make the cloth a cape, and make it part of the skinsuit – interwoven with the same tech, making her more aerodynamic.

It was done in seconds. A black skinsuit with a white cape. Attached to the Last Daughter of Krypton. The last of House El.

The woman who stood there, feeling, if for a moment, no longer like an imposter.

The woman who looked up at the blast door above in dread and resolve. Twice she had soared downwards. Now, no matter her half-hearted protestations, she had to stand tall.

Now it was time to fly.

"I have to go now," she whispered, before looking at the man beside her. "If I don't stop her today, there won't be a tomorrow."

"Can you stop her?"

"Maybe," Kara whispered, putting a hand on her chest. "I hope."

She could not deny the fear that lingered. That urge to fly away. The insanity of what was going on, what she was about to attempt, weighed down on her with the weight of Krypton herself. She was about to fight against a monster, and even energized by golden light, she could not guarantee victory, especially if that monster could use magic.

Her heart pounded. Her hands trembled. She might have lingered there until morn, had Soldier Boy not suddenly spoken.

"Why help us?"

She gave him a look. Asked, "are you trying to make me back out of this? Because I can, human. I'm not fighting for you or anyone in this place."

He remained silent. Another 'thud' echoed from the surface, before Kara Zor-El began to speak.

"A long time ago, a woman told me I would help people. She was the best of your people, while mine…" She pointed to the sigil upon her breast. "Before that, a man, among the best of my people, told me what this stood for. Hope. El mayarah – stronger together. Maybe I needed reminding of that." She smiled. "Thank you."

"I don't think I helped you."

Kara, knowing it might be her last moment of connection in this lifetime, walked forward. The boy flinched before she gave him a quick hug.

"No," she whispered. "You did exactly what you had to." She stepped back, and smiled, however briefly. She could sense the palpitations in his skin. Hear the irregularities in his heartbeat. He was not strong, nor brave, but he was…good, she supposed. One of countless people like him.

In a kinder world, perhaps they might have known each other. Met in different circumstances. In a different world, she could have had a brother and friend.

But such as they were now?

"I have to go," she said.

"I can help," he protested, noting a ladder that led upward from the base of the hanger. "I can-"

"No. If you want to stay alive, wait for me to return. Because if I don't…"

He nodded, and stepped back. Looked at her like…well, it was hard to say. Nevertheless, her blurted out, "my name's Mikhail," his Kaznian accent slipping through.

"Kara," whispered the Last Daughter of El responded, her Kryptonese accent slipping through in turn.

For a moment, she stood there.

The moment after that?

She knelt down. She had never flown upward before. Always, the weight of worlds had drawn her downwards.

Her body trembled. Glass and dirt began to rise. Orbit her like a star of old.

Earth's gravity defied.

Earth, her home, but now?

"Up, up, and away," she whispered.

She shot upward. Smashed through the blast door like a cannonball through a wooden ship.

She feared it would be like the glass before. That she would bleed.

Yet still, she shot upwards, for if she had not the strength to shoot through the blast door, what hope did she have against her foe?

She did so without restraint or pain. Unlike the wound beneath her skinsuit, the cuts on her hands had already healed.

She had soared upwards from darkness before, mounted atop a war kite on a distant world, but now, her flight was entirely her own.

Her time to fly.

Like an angel escaping from Hell, she emerged into the night sky.

For the first time in ten long years, able to breathe Earth's air.

Free.

Footnotes

[1]: Russian for "glass cannon." A human term used to describe something (or someone) capable of dealing great damage while possessing little resilience. Not at all related to the glass cannons used by naltorians in their war with the necrians (a war which the naltorians lost, to no-one's surprise bar their own).

[2]: As gold was one of the most common elements on Krypton, the planet had a "Gold Age," similar to the Stone Age of Earth. While it is perhaps true that not only gold glitters, it certainly sparkles on more than one planet in the galaxy, as kryptonians discovered during their similarly named Golden Age of Expansion over 100,000 years later.

[3]: Similar to kryptonians, daxamites theorized that being exposed to the light of a yellow star would give them superhuman abilities. Like their eternal rivals, daxamites knew it was unlikely any of their number could survive the process unless they were exposed to it from an early age. According to daxamite legend, one of their number ended up on such a world and survived before succumbing to lead poisoning.