Continued from
Investigate - Prologue/? [Investigate - Chapter 1 (Kal-El)]
The new Special Field Support position took hold, allowing for specialist individuals to 'float’ among certain units and provide additional support in situations requiring their skills, specifically in local knowledge and languages. Recon, search and rescue, and a number of other mission objectives used the SFS officers, including preparatory missions in which they lay the groundwork for follow up missions in an area.
The SFS division wasn't fully operational until over a year after Clark had begun filling the role--acting as a proof of concept for the Air Force, and it quickly became an invaluable resource. Soon, recruitment opened an entirely new incentive for well travelled Americans to join the military so this need could be filled.
It was around this time Clark took some leave to officially visit his parents (he occasionally made quick secret visits when he had the free time) and enjoy a well earned break from traveling.
“It's so nice that you were able to get some time to come home for a good visit, Clark,” his mother said, giving him a hug.
“Yeah, I have been moving around a lot, even for me,” Clark admitted. “So is there anything you need help with, Dad?”
“Actually, yeah. The tractor is being a little sluggish so if you could let me know whether or not something's gotten into the lines again?” Jonathan asked.
“No problem. Do we want to do it now before lunch?” Clark asked.
“That's a good idea,” Martha said. “I'll have lunch ready by the time you get back. Now go on you two.”
All but shooed out by Martha, Clark and Jonathan headed out to the barn.
“So is it making a noise like last time or just sluggish?” Clark asked as they came to the tractor.
“Just sluggish, so hopefully if it is something in the lines it won’t require a serious repair,” he said. “I was planning on flushing the lines but when you called and told us you were taking leave. . . .” He shrugged and smiled happily at his son who turned his gaze to the tractor’s engine.
“Well, it looks like it’s the lines,” Clark said, shifting his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
Jonathan sighed. “I had hoped it had been my imagination. Oh well. Thank you, Clark,” he said, but stopped when he realized Clark wasn't listening to him. “Clark?”
Clark lifted his hand, asking for silence. “I hear something.” He tilted his head. “The storm cellar.”
He disappeared, reappearing above the trapdoor of the cellar in the barn, prying the door open.
Light streamed up from beneath, surprising both Clark and Jonathan.
“What on Earth?” Jonathan asked, quickly joining Clark to stand above the entrance.
“It must be coming from my craft,” Clark said, going down the stairs after setting the cellar hatch down.
He was partly right. It was the globe, which was secured to the nose of the craft.
“Careful, son,” Jonathan cautioned as Clark approached the glowing orb.
“It's . . . strange. I feel like it's calling to me,” Clark said, reaching out.
His fingertips touched the surface and light erupted before coalescing into a figure. Clark and Jonathan both leapt back, startled, as a man robed in white came to stand before them with an 'S’ crest on his chest.
“My name is Jor-El. And you are Kal-El, my son. The object you possess has been attuned to you. That you now hear these words is proof that you survived the journey in space and have reached your full maturity. Now it is time for you to learn our heritage. To that end, I will appear to you five times. Watch for the light, listen, and learn.”The figure made of light collapsed and disappeared back into the globe, but before Clark or Jonathan could say anything, the area around them seemed to shift and change.
They knew it wasn't real, but a projection, a projection overlaying all that was currently around them. . . .
Jor-El stood before a waist-level console, waving his hands in the air above it. Attached to the console was a large view screen displaying multi-colored lights. To one side was a long work table, strewn with odd bits of metal and plastic. On the other side was a large, plain pedestal where an egg-like, transparent capsule rest.
“Time grows short and we continue to search. The immensity of space is both a blessing and a curse. In that near infinite variety there must be some place suitable,” Jor-El explains. “Hope and desperation drive us in equal measure.”
A tall, elegant woman with porcelain skin and auburn hair came to his side and gestured to the screen. He shook his head sadly.
“Lara works by my side. She is tireless and endlessly patient. Considering what is soon to come, this is my greatest consolation: that we are together.”
A tremor suddenly rocked the lab as the console flared. Jor-El took Lara in his arms and they waited until it subsided.The scene faded, leaving the cellar just as dark and musky as before.
“Clark?” Jonathan asked gently, concerned.
Clark swallowed and stepped toward the orb, carefully, tenderly, removing it from its place on the ship. The orb remained dark.
O o O
The moment Clark and Jonathan came into the kitchen, Martha knew something had happened, and when she spotted her son's alien orb gripped tightly in his hand, she knew things would never be the same.
“What's happened?” she asked.
“The orb, it had a message, a holographic recording,” Jonathan said when it was clear Clark wasn't ready to talk. “He said he would appear to him five times.”
“Who?” Martha asked.
“Jor-El,” Jonathan said, ignoring the odd lump now growing in his throat. “Clark’s father.”
Martha looked at Clark, whose eyes glistened from unshed tears, and quickly pulled him into a hug.
“Let’s sit down,” she said after a moment.
Clark set the globe on the table before him as they all sat down. Martha put her hand over his. He gave her an appreciative smile before looking back to the globe in deep thought. Jonathon cleared his throat and quickly gave Martha a run-down of what they saw and heard from the globe.
“I never knew it was anything more than what it seemed: maps of Earth and Krypton,” Clark said after a shared moment of silence.
“But why now? It’s been over two years since you got it and the ship back,” Martha said.
“Jor-El did say it had been attuned to him and that hearing his words would only happen if he survived the journey and reached full maturity. Maybe full maturity for him isn’t eighteen -- or twenty-three like doctors are saying now -- but twenty-five or so,” Jonathan guessed.
“That could be,” Martha agreed. “Honey, how do you feel about this?”
Clark exhaled slowly. “A bit of everything. I’ve always wondered where I came from and why. So many questions. But now I know my parents’ names and what they looked like. I even know I have four more messages that I'll receive. I know so many others who will never learn the reason behind their start in life, but I will.” Clark looked up at Jonathan and Martha, gratitude shimmering in his eyes. “No matter what I learn from the globe, I am grateful for how my life has turned out.”
Blinking back tears, Martha squeezed her son's hand as Jonathan placed his hand on Clark's shoulder.
“Do you remember them?” Jonathan asked softly.
“No. I mean, I don't think so. Snippets of images come to mind now, but after seeing what we did, I don't know if they're imagined. Wishful thoughts.”
“What are they of?” Martha asked.
“Lara.”
He couldn't say 'my mother’. Lara was a stranger, and his mom was sitting next to him.
The day passed slowly, solemn emotion, anticipation, and question of the unknown lay heavy in the air.
It happened just before dinner: the glow from the orb. Gathered in the living room, Clark tentatively placed his hand on the strangely warm surface with his mom and dad beside him. . . .
Jor-El appeared.
“This is the second of the five times I will appear. You may wonder that I speak your language, and not my native Kryptonian: I don't. That is another property of the object.”
On a gleaming white work table, Jor-El and Lara conducted delicate work on a helix-shaped object of thinly-twisted metal (or what appeared to be metal) using instruments whose purpose and application the Kents couldn't even begin to guess at. With a probe, Jor-El touched various points on the object's surface and was rewarded with corresponding musical tones. Above the object itself floated a holographic depiction of the helix.
“Unmanned Kryptonian probes have explored every corner of the known galaxy and beyond. For thousands of centuries we have received data back from those probes. I have every confidence that, given enough time, we can achieve the conversion to a manned vessel. But, will we have the time?”
Then another tremor came, longer in duration and far more violent than the first. Jor-El and Lara grabbed the table for support until the shaking ended. When it finally subsided, both immediately turned to the capsule on the pedestal. They breathed a sigh of relief when they saw it still intact but the viewscreen above the nearby console suddenly blared in warning. Jor-El helped Lara up and they both approached the console. As before, Jor-El wove his hands above it and it responded with new patterns of light. Jor-El frowned at the readings before they both looked again to the capsule.
“There is an ancient Kryptonian saying: 'On a long road, take small steps.' Precision and care are our watchwords. Yet, we still have far to go.”The scene faded, leaving the Kents in silence.
They didn't speak about it afterwards, none of them knowing what to say, but Martha and Jonathan gave Clark their support by their presence as they went about their normal routines on the farm. Clark even helped his dad fix the tractor before they repaired the stubborn gate by the barn and went into town to pick up some fresh produce for Martha the next day. The day almost felt normal, but they knew it was all just an effort to help time pass more quickly. To help fill in the void that would be there otherwise. Waiting for the globe to wake up and tell them more.
And then it did.
“There is no longer any doubt. The chain reaction has begun. As panic spreads, the population awakens, too late, to its fate. Our future is inevitable.”
Jor-El and Lara endured another tremor. When the shaking subsided, an urgent ringing alarm began to sound. Jor-El struggled to his feet and did something at the console that turned the alarm off. Lara joined him. A second, different tone resounded from the console, blinking in sequence.
“At last the computers have located a suitable destination: a planet physically and biologically compatible with Krypton whose inhabitants resemble ours, and whose society is based on ethical standards which we, too, embrace in concept, if not always in deed.”
The pattern of light dissolved to be replaced by the image of Earth floating in space.
“The inhabitants call it, simply, Earth.”Martha wiped the tears from her face as Jonathan gripped Clark’s shoulder tightly.
Finally, Clark spoke. “They sent me here to live.”
Martha and Jonathan both nodded, agreeing with that deduction wholeheartedly. The looks on Jor-El and Lara's faces were unmistakably of fear and hope, drenched in determination to save their child no matter the sacrifice.
“I wasn’t abandoned.”
Martha enveloped him into a hug as he felt an ache he never knew he had bleed away and certainty fill him.
He had been wanted.
Wanted enough to be saved.
Loved enough to be set on a path that gave him a chance at life.
O o O
Clark would later say he was numb, but that would be an oversimplification. Shock would have been closer to his emotional state, that and awe, as he reflected on all that he had learned.
If he was understanding what the globe had shown, his biological parents had saved him from a world cataclysm.
He may well be the last of his kind.
But with such horrifying and depressing thoughts came questions.
What had caused Krypton's earthquakes? Why did it take so long for the population to become aware of the grave situation? Had other families been like his parents? Scrambling to save at least one member of their family? Had any succeeded? What is the state of Krypton now? Was he alone?
Once again, Martha and Jonathan came beside him as the globe lit up later the next day. He touched it.
The helix, the core of the hyperspace drive, had been attached to the rear of the ship.
“We have installed the hyperlight drive and tested it the best we can. So much is unknown,” Jor-El said as he and Lara unhooked something attached to the console. It was the globe with Krypton's map on its face.
“Contained within the sphere is the navigational computer that will guide the ship through the maze of hyperspace, as well as this account of our final days.”
Jor-El carried the globe to the ship and set it into the mounting designed for it. Once in place, it changed to display the continents of Earth. Jor-El moved to the capsule. He touched its surface with the probe and the mist within dispersed.
“All is in readiness. We have selected the ship's exact destination on Earth and programmed it into the computer.”
Jor-El lifted the capsule off the pedestal as Lara opened the main compartment of the ship. Jor-El placed the capsule inside, revealing an infant boy swaddled in blankets. Lara lay a kiss on his forehead before stepping back.
“Kal-El, our child, the last son of Krypton,” she said.
Another tremor began.Clark placed his hand back on the globe as it went silent again. Jonathan and Martha gave Clark a moment, but then, to their surprise, the globe began glowing again.
Jor-El and Lara stood over the ship.
“I try to picture where you are now when you hear this last chapter. What do you look like? Are you alone? What have you become? Lara and I will never know, but that you should live to experience this... that is enough. We are content.”
Jor-El began to seal the spaceship door. Lara tenderly touched the capsule's surface and young Kal-El reached out to her. The ship's door closed soon after. There was no time. The tremors resumed.
“We give you to Earth, to a realm called America, and a place called Kansas. Remember us, but do not regret our passing. All is fate.”
The view suddenly shifted as the craft left orbit, showing Krypton behind it in space: beautiful, alien, at peace. And then it wasn’t. In a green flash of brilliant light, Krypton blasted apart. Dust and space debris shot out, nearly catching up to the spacecraft, until the craft’s hyperlight drive engaged and set off into the blackness of space.The globe went dark.
“Oh, Clark,” Martha whispered as she and her husband both held him close.
Eyes tightly closed and fist against his mouth, he was unable to completely hold back a sob as a memory resurfaced with long forgotten sensations.
He was in the capsule. Confused and scared, but worst of all, alone. Metal plates closed above him, blocking out all light. He wanted to get out, he wanted mama.
It suddenly got loud, and everything was shaking so hard. He cried out, and suddenly swirling colored lights appeared before him as his mother's voice echoed around him.
A lullaby, but he couldn't understand the words. Kryptonian?
He fell asleep and the memory diminished into reality.
“Jonathan?” his mother asked, frightened and concerned.
“I don't know. Flashback?” Jonathan guessed.
Clark opened his eyes.
“Clark?” his parents both asked, kneeling beside him.
He was on the floor and the table had been pushed aside.
“I remember being in the ship,” he said, sitting up. “I remember leaving.”
He let out a shaky breath. “At first it felt like I was being buried alive, before everything began to shake and it got real loud. I've never been that . . . scared before, not like that. But then something came on to distract me, and a lullaby. After that, I guess something made me fall asleep.”
He got back on the couch, finding the orb beside him.
“Are you going to be alright?” Martha asked, putting her hand on his knee.
Clark nodded. “It's . . . a lot to take in, but yeah. I just . . . I suppose it doesn't matter now. Krypton is gone and I'm here now,” he said.
“I think from the words he left you, he wouldn't want you to focus on what happened or what might have been,” Jonathan said.
“You're doing great things, helping so many people, and it's because of what they did that it's possible,” Martha added.
Clark straightened and smiled softly. “‘Remember us, but do not regret our passing,’” he quoted.
O o O
The following days passed swiftly with the truth of his origins settling in his mind and heart. He was grateful for the messages from his father and exceedingly thankful to his parents for saving him. Since learning the truth, he felt whole, emotionally better than he ever thought he could feel. He knew where he had come from, understood why he had shown up in Schuster's Field. The not-knowing was no longer an invisible shard in his heart, constantly jabbing at his subconscious, on some level making him question his purpose, even his worth -- because now he knew.
He was on Earth to live.
The place his birth parents had specifically selected within a galaxy of countless worlds.
And so he was going to live, ensuring Jor-El and Lara’s legacy would outshine Krypton’s destruction while personifying all the good Jonathan and Martha Kent had instilled in him.
“Clark, what time are you going to head out?” Jonathan asked as he joined him in the living room.
“Well, I need to report in by noon the day after tomorrow, so I was thinking tomorrow after lunch, unless you would prefer I stay for dinner.”
“I think you know how your mom would answer,” Jonathan countered with a smile.
“Hm, you're right. After dinner it is then,” Clark said in mock surrender.
“Well, if it's any consolation, she'll be fixing one of your favorites, meatloaf and sweet potato,” he said.
“Oh, definitely,” Clark said, grinning.
“Well, I have some things I need to pick up in town. I’ll be back in an hour or so, son,” he said, heading out.
“Okay, Dad,” he said.
He went up the stairs soon after, but as he approached his room, he saw a familiar light coming from behind the door.
The globe.
Did it have another message? But his father had only mentioned five.
Entering and coming to a stop before the bed, he instinctively reached out his hand. The orb rose from the mattress and closed the distance to his hand before he could gasp in surprise. Turning his hand over so the globe could rest in his palm, a stream of light shot forth and formed into his mother, Lara.
“Mother?”
“My son, I wish I had more than one message for you, but we are short on time, so I must trust that this will be enough. I must believe everything we have done and are doing will be enough."She took a deep breath to calm herself and Clark was suddenly struck by how difficult it must have been to do what they had knowing they would never know if they had succeeded. They could only hope.
“I try to imagine what you are thinking, seeing me as an image of projected light. What do you wish to know of your heritage, to understand of yourself? So I have compiled knowledge of Krypton I feel pertinent and most beneficial to your existence now. Within the globe is a crystal containing this knowledge. Like the core of the globe that has been attuned to you, this crystal will impart its contents to you when you are mentally ready, but not as mere projected images. It will be on a deeper level.
“Kryptonians are telepathic, to the point that many in the ruling class reserve verbal speech for ceremonial purposes only. Your father and I were not able to determine if the people of Earth have a similar ability or not, but it may be something they can perceive if they cannot actively participate, such as sending thoughts out.”Clark blinked. Telepathy? He had never even thought to try. Attempting to do yet another thing that would set him apart from humanity . . . but it could be something useful, especially if he needed to inform his parents of something but verbally couldn't because of present company.
“In any case, the crystal will be able to link with your mind when you are approximately twenty-seven Earth years old. The process will require a recovery and processing period, so make any necessary preparations before engaging the globe at that time. Everyone responds to Absorption differently but expect three to five days of discomfort, in which you will not desire to do anything other than sleep.”She smiled sadly.
“Included in the crystal are some of our happier memories together, as well as engineering specs of your craft's hyperdrive. Once your mind adjusts to the influx of information, you will have a sizable understanding of Kryptonian technology as well as our world and family history. I hope it will serve you and your new home well.”She quickly wiped her eyes free of offending tears that were threatening to leak out and continued a little more calmly, albeit slowly.
“You left Krypton as the Heir to the Noble House of El, descendant of peacemakers and peacekeepers, generals and inventors. You will always carry this aspect, whether you are aware of it or not, but you are more. You undoubtedly carry another name now, one of Earth, and have taken on attributes of those who helped shape you into whoever you are in this moment. “I earnestly pray that as you watch this now your life has been good and safe, that you have a family and grew up in love. However, whether you have or not, please know that your father and I love -- loved you dearly. We only desire for you to be happy and to live a long, full life. So don't neglect your future because of your past. I want you to know that you owe us and Krypton nothing,” she said firmly, moving out her hand in a short but abrupt gesture of finality.
“You are free to decide your own destiny. So should you, by some miracle, encounter other Krypton survivors, and they attempt to hold anything over you, remind them that you are the son of Jor-El, former Head of the Kryptonian Imperial Council -- who had tried to warn the ruling bodies of the coming doom but was mocked and ridiculed -- and thus, you invoke the Right of Vindication. Any House will have to bow to your following words for one instance, as their forebears were all guilty of negligence in not pursuing the truth -- in either proving or disproving Jor-El's theory -- and thus damned Krypton and her people.”Her eyes flashed in anger, disgusted by her own people's blindness and arrogance.
“It pains me to tell you that though Krypton was destroyed by a natural disaster beyond our control, Krypton's people were ultimately condemned to their fate by choice.
“So seek the truth in all things, my son, so that you may live and live wisely. That is my only command to you.”She smiled, sad and earnest, hopeful and worn. She looked back at something and nodded before facing him once more.
“Goodbye, my beloved child, my hope.”Her form then froze before fading out into nothingness.
A slight cough sounded by the door. Clark turned to find his mom watching, both sad and proud.
“How long were you there?” Clark asked.
“Since the moment she said she hoped their efforts will be enough,” she said as she put her hand on his arm.
“You heard most of it then.” He exhaled heavily. “I wonder why I will have to wait until I'm twenty-seven to use the crystal.”
“I imagine to ensure that your brain has fully developed to cope with whatever the crystal will do,” she suggested softly, looking at the globe still in his hand.
He lifted it up to his face, trying to peer into it. He then lightly jiggled it, but they heard nothing.
“I can't look into it. I was hoping to be able to see the crystal. Whatever this globe is made of, it's dense,” Clark said. “I wonder how I'm supposed to get the crystal out.”
“You've learned a lot this past week. I think patience is what's needed now,” Martha lightly warned, recalling how the crystal would be mentally strenuous.
“Yes, you're right. I've learned more than I have ever hoped about my past. More than I could have ever expected. I can wait while I get back to living my life. I'll turn twenty seven toward the end of my commission anyway, so I couldn't ask for better timing.”
Martha smiled proudly at him.
“Thank you, mom. I can never fully express it. I am so lucky, so blessed.”
“You have blessed your father and me just as much. And we are just as thankful to your birth parents as you are. They were truly selfless and hearing your mother just now, I know we would have gotten along well,” Martha said. “If your parents could see us now, I'm sure they would be happy with all of us.”
Clark's heart swelled with joyful contentment. What more could he want?
O o O o O
The next two and a half years were full of life saving missions, and not just of soldiers. Most of the larger missions involved natural disasters, in which Clark helped the units coordinate with the locals themselves while other officials dealt with those in government. It was astonishing how much smoother operations ran with Clark on the ground.
“I want your search team to comb through this area here,” Clark directed before motioning to the devastated locals to approach him.
“Take these shovels and help the soldiers dig here. I’m sure there are people to be saved below. Don’t give up, we cannot stop,” he said in their tongue.
“Have I ever lied to you?”Many shook their heads and took the shovels eagerly.
The village had been flooded and the storm surge had ripped away the straw roofs and ruthlessly flattened the walls beneath. Unfortunately, due to the terrain and primitive infrastructure of the region, organized help wasn’t able to arrive until after 36 hours had passed and hope for the existence of survivors trapped in rubble was practically zero.
“Should we pull a search and rescue dog from over there?” an Army Corporal asked, indicating another collection of wet, ruined, unrecognizable homes.
“No. Any survivors there need to be found first because of the rain coming in a few hours. They run a higher risk of drowning due to the direction of the runoff. Anyone still alive here has a bit more time in that regard. Let the dogs sniff out that area before moving them up here,” Clark said certainly, his eyes scanning the field of seemingly endless debris. He suddenly pointed to a mound against a blown over tree. “Start digging here. Large debris sometimes provide pockets for survivors.”
Corporal Anders didn't question him and set out to do as he was instructed but the look on his face revealed his doubts. As Anders walked away to direct the search team to the pile of rubble, Clark heard him mutter to another soldier beside him.
“Not that I'm complaining, but he hopes to actually find survivors still? I thought this was purely a recovery operation.”
“We’ve learned not to question him. Some people call him the ‘miracle magnet’,” another soldier beside him said. “You see how the locals respond to him?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s a reason for that.”
Clark tuned his ears away, focusing to the area beneath them. How he wished he could just go down and get the survivors himself, but there were many reasons why he couldn’t - although if things were extremely dire he had intervened personally in the past before - like when he had lied and said he had heard tapping (even though the person was dead to the world and actually minutes from certain death) and another time where he shoved an I-beam aside before anyone could realize, but those were close calls.
But right now, in this moment, he needed patience.
He nodded to himself, subtly looking over his glasses down to the debris filled mud. Their heart beats were still strong and he could see that they were not bleeding too heavily. Superficial wounds for the most part, other than a compound fracture in one man and a broken leg in a woman. The two teenagers were just bruised up. Miraculously, the tree trunk had offered just enough support with the surrounding debris to provide space and helped form an air pocket with a chimney (of sorts) to fresh air, otherwise they would have long since suffocated.
He looked over them again. Oh how he wished at least one of them would try to make some noise. ‘Yell out! Bang something!’ he wanted to tell them. But they were exhausted, dehydrated and afraid to use up the last of their energy. Besides, they didn’t really have anything to clang or hit. It wasn’t like they were in a concrete and metal building that would carry sound. They were primarily surrounded by mud and broken wood, not ideal materials for making noise and unfortunately very well insulated. Clark wondered if they would even hear him if he shouted.
He peered back through the earth at the teenaged boy who was the least injured and the most alert. If the kid could draw attention to that area by some miracle, it would save them all a great deal of time and would prevent Clark from risking his secret. If not, hopefully one of the search teams would happen upon them before too long.
“L.T.!” a Sergeant suddenly called out to him.
L.T. was short for Clark's rank: Lieutenant.
Clark hurried over to the other search and rescue team, relieved that the boy he knew was in that area would likely be saved soon. He was more critical than the group pinned near the tree, which was why he had directed the dogs to that area early on in the search. It of course helped that there was a logical reason for his choice, but even if there hadn't, he knew he would have risked the questions and ever growing mysticism around his person.
“The dogs just flagged this spot, we think there's someone alive under there,” Sergeant Matthews said unnecessarily because the two search dogs were digging excitedly alongside a number of rescuers.
Grinning, Clark quickly took stock of the location. “This is near where the central building stood,” he said before turning to the locals gathering due to the commotion. They were made up of those who couldn't help due to their inexperience or physical condition.
“Stay back. There may be someone down there,” Clark said.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled the young injured boy from the rubble to the cheers of everyone near.
“Alright, we have more areas to clear,” Matthews said, re-establishing order before looking to Clark for direction. Clark had been the reason why they had found the critically injured boy in time -- another hour would have been too late.
“Hey! I hear something!” a rescuer shouted elsewhere.
It was near the group of four buried survivors Clark had been looking at before.
“Send a dog up!” Clark ordered, relieved things were going their way without his direct and obvious intervention.
“Gladly, L.T.,” Matthews said.
Clark was there as they pulled up the mother and her son.
“How did you know they were there?” Clark asked the Corporal from before.
“I heard a noise, sort of a call for help,” he said, riding on the high that always came upon saving someone.
Clark turned to the mother and son while the other two survivors were being pulled out.
“Oh, thank you, thank you. You heard me, you heard me,” the boy said, just as happy as Corporal Anders.
Clark quickly translated.
“I’m so glad you called for help. Did you hear us working above you?” Anders asked, taking advantage of Clark’s ability to enable them to fully communicate.
“No, it still sounded like before, but something just told me I should shout. That it would help,” he said.
Clark translated again, just as stunned by the boy’s words as the others around him but for a different reason. Was this coincidence? He had been looking at the boy, hoping the boy would do exactly what he eventually did do simply because it would help.
His thoughts went back to what his mother, Lara, had said in the recording over a year before. Kryptonians were telepathic. Was this a demonstration of that ability? He had tried and failed to ‘mentally talk’ with his parents, but perhaps it wasn’t as direct as a conversation? Perhaps it was on a subconscious level? Perhaps he and the individual he was more or less ‘thinking’ to had to be under some level of stress?
Or perhaps he was making something out of nothing.
He would need to be mindful, however, just in case.
The rest of the day was slower. There were no other survivors to be found, but the fact they had pulled five from certain death when most had believed they would find no one. . . . It was a successful mission.
O o O
For the last six months of his commission Clark trained future SFS officers, teaching them as much as he could about how best to support their adopted units (units they were assigned to assist). The key was knowing when to blend into the background (so you weren't in the way, especially in combat--they didn't need or want to be worrying about where you were, etc.) and when to break out and take control (interacting with locals and providing insight into the region). Sure, deployed units were often educated on what to expect culturally from people living there and the like, but SFS officers had actually been in the area before and knew the language.
As for the incident involving the rescued boy's timely call for help, Clark was unable to determine whether it had anything to do with his untrained telepathic ability or was merely a coincidence. Nothing like it had occurred since, but he didn't know if that was because he hadn't been in any similar situations again or if there really was nothing more to it.
He briefly mentioned it to his parents, but since he couldn't recreate it or make anything like it happen again, it eventually faded to the back corner of his mind. Life was busy enough without constantly wondering about one event that had several reasonable explanations. After all, a new stage of his life was about to begin.
Burton Newcomb stood in front of Clark at the end of his last day, both wearing their sharp blues. Over the years, Clark's ribbon rack had grown to be quite respectable, especially when one realized he had only served for four years. The General's breast was of course covered in service medals and dwarfed Clark’s.
“Well, Lieutenant, it's been a great four years. I wish I could have you stay, but I think we both know you're meant for bigger things. Where are you going to go first?”
“Home. There's something I need to do with one of my family heirlooms,” he said, deciding that was safe to say in case there were any listening ears.
Burton smiled knowingly, having been fully brought into the Kent family fold two years prior. “And after?” he asked.
“I'm not sure. I think I'll take a break from traveling as much. I'll try to settle in a city maybe. There's never a shortage of things to investigate in areas like that.”
“Well, if you ever need anything, just let me know.”
“The same goes for you, General. You know I can get anywhere you need me to be in a hurry.”
“I will, but only if absolutely necessary. Stop by whenever you wish though.”
Clark smiled and gave a parting nod. Life was good.
O o O o O
Clark stepped into his bedroom in Smallville with his parents behind him. Martha had the globe and slid a chair beside the bed while Jonathan moved another chair into the room for himself.
“Do you know what you need to do?” Jonathan asked as Clark sat on the mattress.
“No, but I think it’ll tell me once I touch it,” Clark said, indicating the globe.
“Alright,” Jonathan said as he and Martha sat down.
“Ready?” Martha asked, after privately sharing a nervous glance with Jonathan.
“Yeah, I'm ready. I've been looking forward to this for years,” he said, holding out his hand.
She placed the globe in his hand and it immediately began to glow. Suddenly, it rose from his palm and a beam of light shot from the bottom of it onto his skin, materializing a thumb sized, deep blue crystal. The globe rose higher and waited for him to grasp it with his other hand. It then dimmed and the crystal lit up, producing a small image of his mother above it.
“My son, if you are seeing this you have successfully activated the crystal with your intent to carry out its Absorption. When you are ready, close your fist around the crystal. This is my final gift to you, Kal-El. May the knowledge within be useful to you and keep you from repeating Krypton's mistakes. Please take heed and know our love is forever with you.”Her image faded and Jonathan slowly took the globe from him as he moved his feet onto the bed and laid back. With a nod to his parents, he closed his hand and brought the still glowing crystal over his chest.
The light went out, just as Clark stiffened and gasped before his eyes rolled up to the back of his head. He went limp.
O o O
Images. Thousands of images, still and in motion, flashed and played in his mind’s eye.
Language, heard and seen, rushed through him, garbled yet sharp, with a mixture of dialects. However, comprehension manifested, his years of practice in picking up foreign languages no doubt helping him grasp it all faster than he would have otherwise.
Time was immaterial. It could have been weeks or years, though it certainly couldn't have been seconds.
Pain ebbed in waves, burning sharply behind his eyes while the rest of his skull throbbed with tight, clenching agony.
There were scenes of people gathering, snippets of wars and in-fighting with names and dates that were meaningless to him. But with each passing tidbit, things began to make sense. Dawning understanding came and a deeper appreciation for being raised on Earth and in America surged higher than he could fly. His parents hadn't lived under an official monarch, but due to the self imposed rules of their society they may as well have been, and not a very stable one. His parents had been Nobles, members of the upper class who took turns ruling in a delicate dance with the Council to keep the masses in line but happy enough to not rebel. Despite how far ahead Krypton had been technologically, they had been eyeball deep in a caste system that was positively medieval --if not worse-- and such a rigid legal system that was so complicated that only the most skilled lawyers could have any hope of navigating it.
Faces of dozens of people suddenly flashed before him. Members of the House of El. His mother had not exaggerated. He did come from a long line of peacemakers and peacekeepers, generals and inventors, but it was the last face that stood out to him most.
The founder of the House of El: Kal.
His name literally meant 'light’, the opposite of heavy, but in use could mean ‘making things light’ or 'having endless strength’.
Born a peasant centuries before the Council had been formed, Kal had ended the reign of a tyrant who had killed his son and had rallied the people to rise above the tyrant's allies. After the dust settled, Kal was elevated to a Noble, an eternal servant of the people, and was given the surname, 'El’, the word for Hope.
Briefly, a chant echoed in Clark’s mind, and he instantly knew this had been the call of the masses following his ancestor: 'Strength in Hope, Hope in Strength.’
A sensation Clark rarely felt surged within him. Pride. His name meant something and sided with the very same things he had sworn to protect, even before joining the Military: Freedom and Life.
But then the history of the Kryptonian people came more into focus.
Centuries passed, and with each generation more discoveries were made in all branches of science and knowledge, feeding a people’s ego and sense of knowing all. Technology grew, compounding the effects of arrogance and convincing so many that their society was infallible -- for how could they not be after all they had accomplished? In the end, while disease was essentially eradicated and hunger was a forgotten pain great grandparents told at family gatherings, children became the product of carefully selected genes whose aim was to better ensure a family’s foothold in politics and power.
By the time of his birth, he was the only known noble child who had not been genetically engineered to serve a specific purpose. . . .
“The Kryptonian people have forgotten the meaning of life and the importance of freewill and self discovery,” Jor-El stated as an image of him and his wife solidified in Clark's mindscape. “Family is gone, it is now simply a means to an end--to hold or obtain power.”
“So you have been removed from the Council?”
“Yes, though it is just as much due to that as it is to my warnings. They just needed another thing to count against me, to paint me as a lunatic.”
“Will we have enough time?” Lara asked worriedly.
Jor-El stilled. “Now that my responsibilities have been shed, we may.” He smiled, his eyes holding the most amount of tenderness Clark had seen from him. “There is hope.”Clark suddenly woke, but it was not the energized sort of awakening, but groggy and sore, which was a new and bewildering type of awareness for him. The room was dark, but he could hear his father snoozing in the chair beside his bed.
He slowly sat up and blinked when his stomach gave a loud gurgling noise.
“Glad to see you awake, son,” his father said, waking up with a chuckle. “And I think you may be hungry.”
“I must be. How long was I asleep?” Clark asked.
“Almost three days. You were out. You mumbled things a few times, but mostly you were still,” he said, silently inviting Clark to share whatever he may have experienced.
“I don’t think I’m finished taking it all in, but it showed me a lot,” Clark said, opening up his hand that held the crystal.
He stilled. It was no longer vibrant blue, but completely clear, as if it had been emptied.
“Are you up to going downstairs to eat?” Jonathan asked.
“Yeah. Is mom up?” he asked, stretching.
“She’s downstairs, about to prepare breakfast.”
Clark smiled and got to his feet. Jonathan led the way to the door.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been hungry before,” Clark commented.
Jonathan laughed. “Well, then you’ll enjoy breakfast even more than usual.”
They made it downstairs where Martha quickly gave Clark a hug. Soon after, Martha prepared the eggs, bacon and hashbrowns, and (between bites) Clark told them everything he had learned from the crystal thus far.
“I’m so glad you know more about where you came from. I must admit, I have always wondered about your origins,” Martha said after he had finished. “Knowing brings a great deal of peace.”
“I know what you mean. And knowing more about how their society was . . . I’m so glad I was raised here, with you two.” He shook his head. “Such oppression and arrogance despite so much greatness.”
“It’s a good lesson, to never lose focus of what matters and what doesn’t,” Jonathan said.
Clark nodded before grimacing and placing his right hand on his temple. “I think I should head back to bed.”
He slept for another two days, assimilating the remaining information stored in the crystal which was predominately the knowledge of their basic technologies and his parents’ final work--his spacecraft. Accompanying that was a memory of his father playing with him as they waited for something to set on the ship, the view seemingly from a camera near the ceiling.
“My little Kal. Are you ready?” Jor-El asked playfully before tickling him. “Should we go and get mama?”
Giggling, baby Kal-El seemed to nod so Jor-El scooped him up, holding him chest down on his arm and 'flying’ him out of the room, including sound effects.
“Chu-chueee!”
Clark wasn't sure what his father was imitating, but his baby self certainly enjoyed it.
The camera angle changed, this time overlooking a kitchen-like area that could have doubled as a laboratory.
They soon found Lara, who was in the middle of fixing dinner. She quickly caught on to their little game and put the heat under their food on idle before 'hurrying’ out of the room. The view changed again.
“Oh, no, Kal-El is going to get me!” Lara cried.
Jor-El flew him after her, both of them enjoying their son's laughter.The scene abruptly ended, leaving Clark with a sense of loss that was only tempered by what now was.
His parents, who found time between their preparations of saving him, did not spare a moment in doing everything they could for him, even play - something he knew their society sadly did not see much point in.
The crystal didn't give him much time to think on it much further and returned to showing him the development of the spacecraft a blink later.
He wouldn’t be able to remake much of what he was taught, simply because he didn’t have access to the materials and means of the processes needed, but he understood. He was looking forward to utilizing what he knew when Humanity approached such technologies. As much as he loved helping people, he doubted he would be a private investigator forever.
Besides, he wanted some more laughter in his life too.
________
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