Chapter 20: Your Cape is Showing

The President silently watched the news from Supergirl’s latest rescue, the first on American soil — as far as they knew. At the moment the networks were running video of her sitting stiffly, her hands clasped together, waiting for news on the teacher who’d been shot. She looked like an anxious relative in a hospital waiting room. A subtitle headline flashed: “Girl of Steel Has a Soft Heart.” All the coverage had been sympathetic and flattering in the same vein.

The video was clear and there had been many detailed stills. The media had already been present, equipped with high power telephoto lenses. Like many celebrities before her, Supergirl had been caught unawares in what she had thought a private moment.

This was by far the longest she had ever stayed in one place, the most she had ever interacted with others. The FBI team and others in Fort Collins had been debriefed, yielding solid intelligence.

“Mr. President,” called the lead analyst in the Situation Room. “With the new photos and the fingerprints we’ve been able to identify Supergirl. The team has just now sent us the file with their preliminary analysis.” Without further preface a summary slide popped up on the main display. “We’ve had this file for weeks as it turns out, but it doesn’t have any of the keywords we were searching for.”

The assembled officials peered eagerly at the photo on the screen. She looked different with her hair down, but it was clearly Supergirl.

“Kara Zoe Kent?” The President felt a prickle on his scalp. “What else does it say?”

“Sir,” said the analyst, consulting the tablet he was holding, “it says she was found unconscious by a road in Milford, Delaware the night of October 19 of this year, an apparent kidnap victim. Birthdate, June 29, 2000. Family…” he trailed off for a few seconds, staring. “She said her parents are Clark Kent and Lois Lane, and that she lives in Metropolis, Delaware with them, an older brother, and a younger sister. She’s been placed with a foster family and is attending sixth grade in Milford.” He looked up. “There are no entries in the file after October 21, when it was sent to the FBI from the Milford Police.”

The room was silent for a full ten seconds.

“Clark Kent and Lois Lane? That’s impossible!” said someone heatedly.

The analyst sighed quietly. “What she does is ‘impossible,’ too. As I keep saying, we need to update our priors—”

“English, please,” interrupted the President.

“Sorry, Sir. What I mean is, last month I would’ve agreed it’s impossible. But now we know something we didn’t know last month: there’s a little girl out there who has Superman’s powers. Flight, invulnerability, incredible strength, vision… the evidence is conclusive. That’s a fact. We have to determine what’s most likely to be true given that fact.”

“The story could still be a deception!” argued a general.

The analyst took off his glasses and polished them as he composed his thoughts. “Deception is an unreliable strategy. It’s something we use when we don’t have better alternatives. If it’s a deception, whoever is behind it is after something they can’t get more easily. Given her enormous power that doesn’t make sense. Why would we use the Trojan Horse to deceive Stone Age tribesmen armed with clubs?”

The President nodded slowly.

“The psychologists are now convinced Supergirl has the mind of a normal human child. She could be spinning some kind of fantasy, but they say her story doesn’t follow that pattern. They think she’s telling the truth as she sees it.

“So either her story is true, or she’s being deceived too. And again, why bother? Anyone with that much power could take what they want from us by force. Unless it’s something they can’t get by force.”

“So what are the possibilities?” asked the President. “How long will it take you to run scenarios?”

“We’ve already run scenarios like this, Mr. President. You’ll recall I mentioned during the London incident that her being Supergirl might be the simplest explanation? We’ve generated three plausible scenarios, Sir, and this new information is consistent with two of them.”

“And they are… ?”

“The first is that she truly is the fictional character Supergirl, who is also, somehow, a real person, brought here from some other reality.

“The second is that some extremely powerful being is bringing characters from our own literature to life to watch our reactions. Like teasing a cat with a laser pointer.

“The third is that she’s even more powerful than she appears and is emulating Supergirl because she’s a fan, or to ease acceptance. This one doesn’t fit the latest psych profile, however.”

There was muttering around the room. “You’re telling us those are the most likely scenarios?”

The analyst coughed. “Yes, Sir, given what we know. We generated tens of thousands of them. Those are what made the cut.”

“Which one has the highest probability?”

“The first, Sir. If an alien were to create Supergirl to toy with us, they’d likely create one of the versions we already know. Our Supergirl is younger than any of those by a couple of years. And there’s never been a version of Supergirl who is the child of Clark Kent and Lois Lane, outside of fanfiction.”

The President rubbed his eyes; the whole conversation was unreal. It felt like a pot-fueled college dorm discussion. “Was there any other information?”

The analyst peered at his tablet again. “She initially rejected the idea that her father is Superman, though she believes Superman is a real person. She had blood drawn, so at the time she wasn’t invulnerable. Her siblings appear to be named for Superman’s Kryptonian parents. Her own name suggests she is Kara Zor-El, Superman’s biological cousin.”

“Any recommendation on how to deal with her?”

“We think attempts to coerce her would fail, possibly badly, but we believe she can be influenced by those she trusts. In fact, we believe that’s the only approach that can succeed.”

The President thought carefully for several minutes, digesting all he’d heard. For the first time since this crisis had begun, he allowed his feelings a say in his deliberations.

He studied Supergirl’s image on the screen again, watched her expressions. The facts all pointed in one direction, but it was possible they’d overlooked something. An incorrect decision either way could be disastrous. He prayed he was making the right one.

He turned to one of the other officials in the room. “What’s the status of Project Emerald?”

The man looked uncomfortable. “No progress, Sir. What she can do is so far beyond our current knowledge that we barely even know where to begin.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is going to take years, and we have no way of testing anything we come up with except on her.”

“Where is this research being conducted?”

“All over the country, Sir, in various labs.”

“We need to suspend it all, immediately, and destroy all materials.”

“But Mr. President,” objected the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, stunned. “What if she became a threat?”

“General, as best we can tell her father is Superman. Do you think that however she got here, wherever she came from, he’s not going to try his best to find her? Do you want us to risk a man who can see through walls and hear things for miles around discovering that we’re trying to find ways to kill or capture his daughter?”

The general grimaced. “No, Sir.”

“She might not understand the implications of something she overheard or saw, but I’m sure he would. And I sure as hell hope neither of them is listening right now.”

“Understood, Sir. You said ‘suspend’…”

“First, we need a place to conduct this research where they can’t find out about it. I don’t know, build a secret lab in an old lead mine a mile underground — whatever it takes. Once you have a location that’s secure from them, you can start over.

“But if it’s really going to take years and the only way to test it is on them, Project Emerald has to be our last resort, in case they turn hostile. We can’t count on it — can’t even talk about it, even at locations we usually consider secure, like this room. For now we’re going to have to assume it will fail, act like it doesn’t exist, and hope to God we never need it.

“As far as we know the only effective way we have to deal with her is to influence her. We can’t do that unless she trusts us completely.

“So we are not to threaten her in any way. We are not even to make her feel threatened in any way. We are not to talk about threatening her. We are not to assume she won’t notice any attempts to deceive her. One mistake, and any trust she has in us will be gone.

“If we’re careful, on the other hand, if we’re her friends, if she trusts that we’re on her side, we have our best chance of getting her aligned with our interests. If she winds up staying here, that could be a very good thing.

“So as far as I’m concerned this administration is her new BFF, and I don’t mean just for show. That goes for anyone close to her, too. I want you to communicate that to everyone, clear on down to the janitors.” He sighed. “We need to brief the Congressional leadership on this, too. I hope they have the sense to follow our lead.”

“Are you worried she would fight back or lash out, Sir?” asked the Chairman.

“Given what we’ve learned, no; she doesn’t seem to be that kind of person. I’m much more worried she’d run away. Suppose she went to China, or Russia? I’d rather have her here and have influence over her than have her elsewhere viewing us as enemies. I want her to be our asset, not theirs.

“I also want her here to protect her: she’s a child, and I don’t want to have to explain to her father how she got hurt on our watch.”

“But Mr. President, she’s invulnerable. What could hurt her?”

“I’m talking about emotional harm.” The President gestured at the screen showing the ongoing news coverage from Fort Collins. “Look at her face.”

The analyst added, “Mr. President, speaking of protection… a followup report from the Children’s Services caseworker says she’s grown attached to her foster family. If a bad actor or one of our enemies were to threaten those she feels close to, use them for extortion… she’s only eleven. We don’t know what she might do, what they might talk her into. We recommend putting them under Secret Service protection.”

A woman interjected, “It would be easier if we moved them to a secure location.”

The President considered that. “Let’s get some more information first. Given her enhanced senses, is there any chance of covert observation?”

“We don’t think so, Mr. President,” responded the analyst. “Even if we speak in code she’s going to notice if people nearby are talking about her.”

“Can we monitor their conversations at home?”

“Risky, Sir. In the comics, Superman can detect eavesdropping devices. That would be a quick way to lose their trust.”

The President frowned. “Then we’re going to have to make direct contact — covertly, of course.” He paused. “In fact, I’d like to meet with her and her foster family personally. Put together a brief on them.”

“Mr. President!” said the leader of his Secret Service detail, aghast. “She has practically unlimited power! We wouldn’t be able to protect you. We need to discuss the security implications.”

The President nodded. “We can talk it over, sure. But if she wanted to attack me, do you think she’d have any trouble finding me?” The agent looked uncomfortable. “I want to understand what makes her tick. I want her to know she can trust us. And the best way to do that is face to face.” He smiled faintly. “Besides, I don’t want my kids to think I’m afraid of an eleven year old. It might give them ideas.”

• • •


Kara wasn’t surprised when Supergirl came up again in Social Studies the next day. Mr. Ordemann didn’t spend much time on her latest rescue, using it only as a current event topic. Still, he played around five minutes of news footage from the day before.

Kara was surprised to see how clearly her image had been captured this time. She’d noticed the cameras but had thought they were much too far away to produce images like this.

Her classmates again paid rapt attention, and she felt horribly exposed as she sat in their midst while Supergirl’s face was on the TV. Still, no one called out in surprise; no one turned and pointed. She was glad when the TV was turned off and Mr. Ordemann went back to his lesson plan.

Other than that it was a low-key day, which was exactly what she needed. The conversation with her friends at lunch studiously avoided Supergirl, focusing on more mundane topics. Having faced down bullets she was even able to face and hit a softball for the very first time in PE.

She was waiting for Caitlin at the front entrance when she heard a familiar voice calling: for some reason Emily was there to pick them up. Kara waved in acknowledgement and Emily nodded.

Her foster sister joined her and they went over to the beat-up Honda. “Hey Em, what’s up?” asked Caitlin. “Shouldn’t you still be at work?” They both slid into the rear seat and buckled up.

“Detective Spalding called. He says he needs to speak to us about something. It has to do with that file he sent to the FBI.” The two girls looked at each other as Emily eased away from the curb, inching out of the parking lot as students continued to stream out of the school and around them. Finally, she made it out onto the street and headed into town.

Traffic was heavy due to all the parents picking up children, and it took them a while to reach the police station. They parked and went inside to the desk.

“Excuse me,” said Emily. “We have an appointment with Detective Spalding? My name’s Emily Jordan.”

“I’ll tell him you’re here, ma’am,” said the receptionist. She picked up the phone. “Detective? An Emily Jordan and her children here to see you?” She nodded and hung up. “He’ll be right out to get you, ma’am.”

Malcolm Spalding appeared in short order and beckoned them to follow him. They wove their way through the administrative area of the station and into the sole conference room. He closed the door behind them.

Kara wondered why his heart was pounding.

The detective ran a hand through his close-cropped hair and sighed. “There’s no way to sugarcoat this so I’ll just give it to you straight. The Feds found out. About Kara. They finally found that case file I sent to the FBI last month and put two and two together. I got a phone call this morning from Homeland Security.”

Emily paled and put her arms around the girls. “What’s going to happen?”

“Well, that’s the odd part,” he replied. “They’re being remarkably relaxed about this. I thought they’d come storming in here with troops and set up a command post or something, but this is about as low-key as I’ve ever seen these people. They want to talk to you, but they say it’s entirely up to you. They say they don’t want you to feel pressured.”

Emily, Caitlin, and Kara all looked at each other.

“If, and only if you want to take them up on it, there’s someone waiting to take you to Dover Air Force Base to meet with them. If you want to think it over first they gave me this.” He pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Emily. It contained only a handwritten telephone number.

Emily turned to Kara. “How do you feel about this, honey?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe we should just… get it over with? I’m kind of worried now.”

Emily thought for a moment, then sighed. “Yes, I think so. Let’s just rip the band-aid off.” She looked to the detective. “We’ll go now.”

• • •