Continued from:
Nightfall [CHAPTER 8 - Impact]
There were dozens of news crews and the flashes from cameras were enough to give most anyone a migraine. Hundreds of people were gathered behind the press line and a row of military and government officials from around the world were on the other side, giving quotes and the like as scientists and engineers continued to work on the launch site far behind them. Along with people, the launchpad had the rocket loaded with explosives and electronic equipment, though it did not have any fuel to actually launch. All propulsion would be provided by Superman, who was all set just yards away from the press.
A navy blue vest was secured over his uniform, braced with leather and reinforced kevlar straps that went around his thighs -- the final design of his space harness. A tank of oxygen was on his capeless back and a space helmet was tucked under his arm, waiting to be placed over his head. Most everyone already knew the components of Superman’s special equipment, it all having been covered by the media the day before, including the wires that ran from a wristband to the vest with a few wires even disappearing under his tight-fitting standard uniform. His vitals were going to be recorded and watched during the whole mission, which both reassured and intrigued the public.
All of the reporters at the press line, Lois included, were waiting and hoping to receive some quotes to help make their article one that would be specifically cited in the history books to retell this exceptional day.
Superman looked across the people around him, standing with an assuredness reminiscent of a soldier softened by a relaxed posture and the occasional smile he gave when responding to people waving at him behind the security line. However, if one looked carefully, there was a touch of nervousness in his expressive brown eyes.
“Superman,” a man began, getting everyone's attention as the launchpad was vacated by engineers and other personnel. It was time. Superman approached, taking the man's extended hand. He was Elias Olaffson, the current Speaker of the United Nations. “Speaking on behalf of Humanity, thank you,” he said.
Superman gave a nod as the people beside the Speaker moved up and gave their thanks as well. The media captured it all, witnessing several international leaders give their regards to the Man of Steel, until, finally, it was time for him to carry out the mission. Dr. Daitch stopped beside him.
Superman stilled and looked to all the people gathered. Silence rose, and no one moved.
“I'll do my best,” Superman said before donning his helmet.
He turned to Daitch, who quickly helped him complete the last minute equipment testing, before flying to the launchpad. It was a peculiar sight to see such a relatively small, levitating form take hold of the massive rocket and lift it from the platform. It was then even stranger to see said individual simply shift himself and cause the missile to take off with no fire or noise a moment later.
Faster and faster the rocket rose until it cut through the clouds and vanished from sight.
O o O o O
The world continued to pause in whatever they were doing at least once every fifteen minutes to get an update on what was happening thousands upon thousands of miles away. All news stations were reporting EPRAD’s readouts and updates, covering everything from the rocket’s most recent calculated momentum to Superman’s last known location. There was even a devoted corner on nearly every screen showing Superman's last recorded vital signs. A few stations even displayed an electrocardiogram (EKG).
“I believe I see it. Over,” Superman's voice cut in.
Everyone who wasn't already watching quickly clamored to the nearest television. That was the most Superman had said in the last three hours.
Suddenly a view box appeared on the feed with the label 'Camera S1’ at the bottom. The camera displayed the surface of the rocket with one of Superman's hands visible. Above that was the blackness of space, save for an infinitesimal spec in the distance. There was also S2 and 3, which were cameras located on Superman's shoulder and sleeve, and R1 through 6, which were cameras on the rocket itself.
On another television screen, with 'Satellite Delta’ at the top, there was an image that showed a zoomed in view from a distance. All of the satellites capable on that side of the Earth were aimed at the asteroid in hopes of capturing the collision to better verify if the threat was over or not. Currently in the view was a silver rod with a blue smudge on the side that appeared to be heading to a brownish black smudge in the distance.
“We copy, Superman. You are still roughly two hours out from the point of release. You have 345,722 miles left to go. Your vitals appear stable with zero respirations for the last fifteen minutes. Are you tiring at all? Over,” EPRAD Command returned.
Everyone’s eyes snapped to the little monitor at the bottom of the screen beside the ‘time to release’ readout.
100.5°F, 50 bpm, 0 RR, 92 SpO2Six or so seconds later, Superman replied.
“No, I feel the same, but I admit my sense of time seems to be slipping. It feels like a lot more time should have passed than just four hours. Over.”
“It is likely due to disorientation in empty space. You have no frame of reference. Over.”
“Makes sense. Unless something changes, I'll check in an hour from now. Over.”
“Understood. Over.”
100.5°F, 49 bpm, 1 RR, 100 SpO2“I never thought I would ever witness anything like this,” Perry said as they continued working in the midst of the continuous TV reports.
It was nearing the six hour mark. On a few screens, a simple moving diagram appeared. It had been shown a few times before to give the public a better understanding of the distance being traveled and the size of the asteroid they were facing. A blue circle, signifying Superman and the rocket, was approaching a dotted line marking the zone in which Superman would release the rocket. On another screen, showing another live feed, the former spec had become a massive rock and there was now a silver object approaching from the right, though it was still a fair distance away from the asteroid.
“It is pretty surreal,” Jimmy agreed some time later as EPRAD communications sparked to life for the fifth time that hour.
'In a few moments, we will carry out the final release procedures with Superman,’ the EPRAD scientist said confidently in the midst of dozens of other scientists and operators among a sea of screens.
One news camera panned Mission Control, while others covered other items of interest. It was a good thing there were a dozen televisions in the bullpen of the Daily Planet.
Suddenly, Jimmy noticed something odd just as a newscaster pointed it out. Superman's vitals had changed.
100.6°F, 59 bpm, 2 RR, 100 SpO2 “Well, he knows the time to release is coming. I imagine it's just nerves, Carl,” the other newscaster assured. “I mean, I'd be a bit nervous and excited in his position right about now, wouldn't you?”
That seemed to appease Carl and most other people, until they heard EPRAD.
“Do you read, Superman? Over.”
Nothing.
“Superman, this is EPRAD Control, do you read? Over?”
Before even five seconds passed, camera S1 blinked into static and one of the news cameras showing the view-screens of Cameras S2, S3, R1 through R6 followed in the same instant. Static. However, the satellite images were still broadcasting.
‘Technical difficulties?’ Carl asked.
The co-host blinked, his previous expression of reassurance caving to one of stunned panic.
100.7°F, 115 bpm, 3 RR, 100 SpO2“Our communications have been disrupted by something,” a scientist out of frame said.
O o O o O
Lois knew something was wrong the moment she saw his heart rate go up. She couldn't explain why, but she knew he would keep himself calm in almost any situation, especially if he knew the world was watching, which he did. If he was physically responding to whatever was happening, it must be bad.
She made her way down to where a number of the important officials were, including Daitch and General Zeitlin. Thanks to who she was (being the first to make known contact with Superman), she was given greater reign than the other reporters at Mission Control.
“What's happening to his vitals?” someone asked as a lead technician notified the press that they would soon begin the 'release procedure’.
Lois wanted to roll her eyes at that. How hard was letting go? Did they have to over complicate everything, especially when they had gone over everything with him on Earth and within the last hour?
“I'm not sure,” Daitch said as they waited for Superman to reply to their most recent hail.
And waited.
They repeated the hail and they all grew uneasy, but true panic didn't come until the cameras on Superman and the rocket went dead.
“What the heck is going on?” someone exclaimed.
“Wait, look at the heart monitor!” another shouted.
Lois gasped as she looked at the EKG readout that was tracking Superman's heartbeat. No one needed to be a doctor to know that that was not a normal heart beat . . . even for a Kryptonian.
It had no sensible rhythm and the peaks and valleys looked nothing like those his heart had produced for the past several hours.
“My Lord, that's Morse Code,” General Zeitlin breathed.
“He's passed the moment of release!” Daitch shouted.
“Let go! It’s on course! Just let it go!” several people cried even though they knew Superman could not hear them.
“He must have removed all but one of the EKG leads and is now using a second lead to tap this out,” a scientist beside Lois said, amazed. “He knows this line is separate from our standard com.”
“What’s he saying?!” Lois asked, ignoring the time to impact now flashing on several screens, as well as Superman's vitals.
101.1°F, 145 bpm, 25 RR, 100 SpO2“Ten seconds!” someone shouted in the background as Zeitlin grabbed a pen and started writing each letter as it came after quickly jotting down the two that had already scrolled past.
“Oh, Lord Almighty.”
Lois didn’t know who uttered that as she watched Zeitlin write.
S_A_B_O_T_A_G_E___L
The timer went to zero, the rocket's locator beacon and Superman's met the asteroid blip on the screen, disappearing. The EKG readout went dead.
The satellite images revealed an instant flash giving way to an immense, black and gray, impenetrable cloud expanding out. They couldn't see Superman.
“We have impact.”
The announcer's voice was not triumphant or joyful, but flat and weak, and yet it echoed around the world like a crack of thunder would in a wide verdant valley.
O o O o O
EPRAD Command was silent for all of two seconds before people began moving about in well-ordered chaos as commands from lead engineers and managers filled the air.
“Go through the images frame by frame, see if he managed to let go and get away!”
“Confirm breakup of asteroid!”
“Sweep through all our systems, find out where, when and how our coms and cameras failed and why!”
“Is his tracking beacon still working?” General Zeitlin shouted over the noise.
“No, it's gone, just like the rocket's,” the nearest technician answered, bringing up a more detailed display of their equipment's outputs.
Everything connected to Superman and the rocket provided no readings, but the satellites were beginning to gather spectrometry data and broad spectral analysis as the dust and debris cloud continued to expand.
And then nearly all the incoming satellite feeds on that side of the earth abruptly died and over a quarter of all television broadcasts around the world fell into static.
Everyone in EPRAD looked around at one another in disbelief.
“That was an electromagnetic pulse. A big one,” Daitch said in the horrified silence.
O o O o O
The following hours were of hectic chaos, but thankfully, with the precautions taken by local and federal governments, basic communications were restored in most places within the first hour. At the very least help could be requested and news could be shared instantly.
The public was numb. Almost everyone had witnessed the moment of impact on live television and saw Superman's locator vanish.
The EMP had destroyed all the satellites in or above Geosynchronous orbit on the side of the Earth nearest to the blast, and a fair chunk of those in low earth orbit, but fortunately the atmosphere had disrupted the worst of the pulse before it could reach ground level.
Everyone who knew how catastrophic an EMP would be for a city, let alone entire nations, breathed a sigh of relief when they learned the EMP had not been as bad as they had initially feared. They had enough to deal with already.
The only silver lining was the confirmation that Nightfall had been completely and utterly shattered. They were able to pierce through the dust particles with infrared telescopes and view the remains of the asteroid.
All of the remaining pieces were no longer in line to impact Earth, but even if they were, the largest remaining shards would not even pose a moderate threat. The asteroid shards were now considered meteoroids, and most of them would burn up in the atmosphere due to their size if they came that close.
Unfortunately, they were not able to find Superman, but they admitted he could be behind some of the larger debris. Despite their attempts, that statement was not very reassuring.
Lois remained at EPRAD after phoning in most of what had transpired and gathering everything she could to get to the bottom of what had happened and who was responsible. The message Superman had sent in Morse Code was not publicized, as EPRAD wanted to investigate further before allowing that to get out.
But public or not, it was clear to Lois that someone had sabotaged the rocket and had forced Superman to. . . .
Lois furiously blinked her tears away.
“Ms. Lane?” a voice asked.
She turned to find Mark Leon, an assistant to Dr. Daitch. As ordered by Daitch, he was compiling Superman's last moments so they could perhaps determine his fate. They did not wish to give up all hope unless there was proof that such hope was futile.
“Yes?” she asked, quickly joined by a handful of other scientists and engineers.
“I think you'll want to see this,” he said, motioning to the screen.
She walked over, quickly recognizing Superman's vitals, only this was listed minute by minute. Mark selected the last one, expanding it to reveal a breakdown of each vital, second by second.
Her eyes widened. That was a lot of data.
“Do you see it?” he asked.
“His respirations. Is this the length of time he inhaled and exhaled?” she asked, seeing two columns of numbers beside clock times.
“Yes,” he said. “The scientists wanted to know for knowledge's sake, so made it to measure that instead of merely counting breaths.”
Lois nodded slowly, realizing scientists would take every opportunity to study Superman, even if in a roundabout way. It was a good thing they had in this instance.
“He exhaled a lot more during all of these times, but then at the end. . . .” Lois trailed off.
Mark nodded, pleased. “He inhaled as much as he could. And if you look at the tank readings, you can see how it sharply plummets right before impact,” he said, pointing. “Astonishing lung capacity.”
“So he breathed in as much oxygen as he could, knowing the tank would not survive the impact. . . .” She concluded before breaking out into a grin that matched Mark's and those around them. “Does he have enough air to make it back?”
“Yes, assuming he was able to keep the air in his lungs and survived the impact itself, which I believe he's capable of, so there is a chance,” Daitch said, approaching from the side after quickly taking in the data on the screen.
Suddenly, he grew solemn. “Now we just need to hope he figures out which direction to go.”
O o O o O
He woke with a start and his chest felt almost painfully full, and yet, something told him not to exhale. Something instinctive, primal even. His mouth felt gritty, as if he had taken a bite of charcoal, and his skin didn't feel much better.
Looking around, he found himself in a black fog filled with floating debris he could somehow see, if only barely. He didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there, but he knew he needed to leave. He did his best to peer through the cloud and was astonished when the cloud seemed to fade and allow him to gaze beyond.
A scattering of sparkling diamonds spanned a black drapery of nothingness and a cold realization ripped through him. He was lost.
He whirled around, trying to find anything to tell him what to do.
He suddenly spotted a blinding orb of light to his right, but then a small shimmer of blue caught his eye further to the right.
Home.
He willed himself forward, despite the fatigue he suddenly noticed creeping upon him and the heavy soreness saturating his muscles that was accompanied with sharp, random discomfort.
What had happened?
He shook himself and refocused, reassured as he felt the black dust of the cloud rushing past him as he somehow propelled himself forward. He broke through the heavy mist, grazing past a large rock as the light from the sun now gleamed to his left.
Strange, he could not feel its heat.
‘Perhaps due to distance?’ he wondered.
Time passed; the blue dot of home now slightly bigger. He pat his chest, feeling thick, rough residue coating practically every inch of him as he puffed out and deflated his cheeks without releasing any air from his lungs a few times in attempt to shake up the only air he had available to him. He wished he could release a bit of it, particularly the carbon dioxide he was producing to improve the oxygen ratio at least, but he couldn't.
Somehow he knew he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to live.
After an unknown amount of time, his chest began to really ache in a type of pain that almost brought tears to his eyes. The only other sensation that was more substantial was the cold. The cold was indescribable.
More time passed, though he couldn't tell how much, he only knew he needed to get to wherever he was going soon.
His vision was blurring, his hands were numb, and his lungs were painfully throbbing for fresh air as the beautiful blue orb revealed itself to be a globe of life.
He cut through the atmosphere, glorious heat encircling him as he left the void of space. Unfortunately, the welcoming heat did not last, and frigid air quenched the fire on his form far too quickly, but at least he had made it. He expelled the stale, compressed air from his lungs and heaving in what should have been a breath of fresh night air, but it might as well have been nothing.
He coughed before trying to inhale again as he barely managed to stabilize his descent. His lungs were burning while the rest of him was freezing cold. He seemed to get a little air from all of his efforts, but it was certainly not sustainable. He was going to be in serious trouble if he didn't get help very soon.
His eyes caught something familiar and something in the back of his mind insisted he go there, certain it was the closest guarantee of help.
The city came into a blurry focus, but he still managed to differentiate between skyscrapers, roads and buildings. However, what made it difficult was trying to ignore everything he was hearing. His ears seemed to be going haywire and it was extremely disorienting, made even more so by his failing vision. He turned to a collection of shorter buildings and surmised they were apartments. He wasn't sure why he was going there, but his gut had taken him this far, he wasn't going to question it now.
He began to shiver, despite the warm night, and continued to fail to get a full breath of air even though he was sure he was breathing in as deeply as he could. He made it to a window, barely setting his feet down on the ledge as his chest began to feel as if it was collapsing.
He plowed into the window, the ting of the window lock breaking ringing loudly in his ears as he fell into the apartment and landed with a thud.
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