From Last Time...
“Hi, Darlin.’ How’s the little guy?” Perry asked. Lois smiled as she realized how much she missed hearing Perry’s southern drawl.
“He’s just fine,” Lois replied.
“Glad to hear it. Now, I’m going to have to ask you to forgive me for opening your mail…” Perry began cryptically.
“My mail?”
“Normally, I just send everything right along to you without looking at it, but there was a letter from the Pulitzer Committee and well…I really couldn’t help myself…”
“The Pulitzer Committee? A letter? To me?” Lois asked incoherently. Butterflies began to swirl in her stomach and she was very nearly certain that the room had started to spin. She sat down at the kitchen table. Was this it? Was this the phone call she’d been waiting for her entire professional life? Was it even possible? She’d dreamt of this moment a thousand times – far more often when she was just beginning her career, when it seemed like this moment was going to be the single greatest moment of her life, when nothing else could have even compared. For the first time since she’d begun considering a career in journalism, the Pulitzer had been light years from her mind. She hadn’t even thought about it since Clark had left.
“You’ve been nominated, darlin.’ For best editorial series.”
She nearly dropped the phone, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Lois? Lois, is everything all right?” She heard her father-in-law’s voice intrude into the fog of her mind.
“I’ve been nominated,” she murmured.
********
New Stuff:
The gallery of the courtroom was alive with the buzz of excited and eager spectators, speculating over Pelmon’s awaited ruling. Unexpectedly, the doors to the hallway opened and a pair of guards entered, followed by the First Ministers and two more military guards. A hush fell over the crowd as the First Ministers took their seats near the front of the courtroom. The very political statement they were making by being present during the proceedings was lost on no one. Whispers rose up again amongst the audience as people wondered aloud as to who knew about the First Ministers’ presence and how long in advance it had been planned.
Kal El and Zara, for their part, did nothing to draw any further attention to themselves. They did not acknowledge the parties to the case or the audience. As Pelmon entered the courtroom and took his place at the tribunal’s head, the gathered crowd quickly calmed down once more.
Pelmon waited for a long moment, letting the tension and drama settle in. “As I have now entertained the defense’s motion for dismissal of all charges and have properly deliberated on the matter, I am now prepared to offer my ruling. I will take no statements or arguments at this point as the laws of procedure and the facts are very well settled.”
As he paused, every eye in the courtroom fell upon Lieutenant Commander Ching. The somber, grave looking officer, whose life hung on Pelmon’s every word. He was even thinner now than he was when the proceedings began. Dark circles had become a permanent feature under his eyes. His expression was hollow and haunted, his cheeks drawn. Lines of worry were etched into his brow. But his jaw was sternly set, his mouth a thin line, neither frown nor smile.
“The crimes the defendant is charged with are heinous to say the least. They shocked the conscience of our community and exacerbated the tense and volatile state of our political affairs,” Pelmon declared sternly. “Nevertheless, the prosecution has failed to provide sufficient evidence that the accused was indeed the perpetrator of these crimes.”
A murmur rose up in the audience. Pelmon frowned and said nothing further. As the crowd grew louder and louder, he finally banged his gavel and demanded silence. “There will be order in my courtroom! The defendant is hereby released and all charges against him are dismissed, without prejudice.”
A roar erupted in the courtroom. Guards quickly intervened to separate Ching’s supporters from his detractors and prevent violence from breaking out. Pelmon pounded the gavel against the podium repeatedly to no avail. He shouted for order, but could not be heard over the chaos. In the confusion, Ching could be seen calmly turning toward his young counselor and bowing humbly. He then turned toward the audience, his gaze focused on the First Ministers, and gave a crisp salute.
********
Over the top of the crowd, Clark could see Talan approaching them. “Sir, Ma’am, we have secured the back corridor for your exit. Crowds are forming in the main hallways and throughout the area. It would be best to escort Lieutenant Commander Ching out the same way, for his own protection.”
“Of course,” Zara replied. “Commander, please lead the way.”
The entourage proceeded to leave the courtroom, with Clark and Zara following a few paces behind Ching and Enza. A pair of guards flanked them as they made their way to the back hallway. Accessible only to authorized military and legal personnel, the corridor was still far from deserted.
Clark could feel Zara’s grip on his arm tighten. She was staring intently at Ching, just ahead of her. She and Ching hadn’t said a word to one another, hadn’t been able to share their relief and joy, still hiding behind their masks of professionalism and decorum, separated by rank and responsibility.
They walked in silence through the maze of hallways. “We are going to cross through public space again in order to reach your transports,” Talan explained. “The area has been swept and is well guarded.” At the end of the hallway was a set of double doors. Talan opened them and they stepped out into the open space at the top of the flight of stairs leading down to the transportation bay. The group drew the attention of passersby who began to crowd near the stairs.
They began to descend down the staircase in a silent procession. Clark glanced at Zara before looking out at the crowd forming. In front of them, Talan seemed to tense and then stopped unexpectedly, halfway down the stairs. “Get down,” she barked at them. Clark hesitated for an instant. He found himself frozen as he watched in what seemed like slow motion as a man in the crowd pushed his way forward. He saw the man draw the weapon. Without thought, Clark pushed Zara down, almost falling on top of her as he did so. The blast of the laser rifled scorched the wall behind them, sending curls of acrid smoke drifting upward. The crowd began to scatter as shouting, confused people ran in every direction.
Zara’s face was contorted in a grimace. The panic in him began to rise. He looked up nervously as Talan leaped over the railing in a swift, graceful motion. She managed the ten foot drop as though it were no more than a single step and she hit the ground running, chasing after the fleeing gunman with fierce, single-minded determination. Without breaking stride she pushed aside the gathering crowd as she continued her pursuit.
“Is she all right?” Ching shouted, barely audible in the chaos though he stood only a few feet away.
“I’m fine,” Zara replied far more quietly. She reached a hand to Clark and he began to help her to her feet.
“Stay down!” Ching ordered. Clark nodded and for a long moment that seemed to stretch out into eternity, he and Zara remained perfectly still, huddled awkwardly on the stairs with guards in front and behind them. Guards swiftly flooded the area, efficiently hustling them out of harm’s way and into the waiting transport. He was unceremoniously manhandled by the soldiers, as was Zara. In seconds, they were being spirited away from the source of danger. He could hear his own heart thundering in his ears. He looked at Zara, sitting beside him, her frame rose and fell with each deep, labored breath. She looked back, over her shoulder at the scene they had just fled and the place where her lover remained, utterly oblivious to everything else, her gaze fixed.
********
Having pressed through the crowd with the unrelenting focus of predator hunting prey, Talan had quickly caught up to the would-be assassin. She succeeded in tackling him to the ground, binding his arms behind his back. He was nearly as tall as she and it required all her strength to wrench him to his feet. He spat and cursed impotently. Ching appeared, grabbing the attacker’s arm as the two frog-marched him off. Soldiers arrived to take him into custody and secure the chaotic scene that was unfolding.
“Are the First Ministers safe?” Talan demanded.
“They are,” Ching replied. “They are being transported back to the compound.”
“Sweep the area,” she commanded. “We cannot be certain the attacker was acting alone.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Ching responded dutifully.
********
“Sir, ma’am, this was no unfortunate accident. Your would-be assassin was well placed. He could not have been positioned as he was had he not had prior knowledge of where you would be,” Talan explained. The small group sat huddled around the table in a private conference room within the First Ministers’ compound. The previous day’s attack was the only subject of discussion.
“But who knew of the route you had selected?” Ching asked.
“No one,” Talan confirmed. She turned to Zara and Kal El. “No one was notified that you would be at the hearing. It was not until the hearing began that arrangements were made to select and secure a route.”
“Not even Pelmon knew we would be there,” Zara replied.
“And the guards were not told why they were being placed on duty,” Talan mused. Her mouth was drawn in a tight frown.
“And we told no one of our intent to be there except you,” Zara replied.
Clark’s eyes grew wide as realization dawned on him. “There is one person who knew,” he said.
“Who?” Ching asked, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
“I’ll take care of it,” Clark replied quietly, his voice resolute.
********
Trey entered the reception hall in the First Ministers’ quarters to find Kal El sitting quietly, engrossed in a book. He was unsettlingly calm for a man who’d nearly been assassinated that day. The news of the attack had reached Trey almost immediately. He’d quickly made his way to the First Ministers’ residence but had been perfunctorily dismissed. He’d assumed that the First Ministers simply needed peace and some time to collect themselves, but as he’d waited, he’d begun to wonder about the attack. He shuddered to think who was culpable. As much as he wanted to believe that Rae Et would not commit a cold act of murder, he could not assure himself that that was the case. But how could the attack have been orchestrated? Who had the information necessary to plan an assault on such a well defended target? The first chance he had, he would need to confront Pelmon and see what the man knew. With any luck, he would be able to sort this mess out before it spiraled completely out of control.
Trey approached, but the First Minister seemed not to notice. He swallowed roughly, but the inside of his mouth remained as parched as New Krypton’s arid terrain. “You wished to see me, sir?”
Kal El looked up as Trey spoke. He closed the book and set it aside. “Your culture has quite intricate fables. The myth and lore, they’re remarkable, really. There is much you can tell about a people from the stories they tell. What they believe, what they value.”
Trey cleared his throat. “That’s quite true, sir.” He realized that he sounded sycophantic, but found himself caught off guard by Kal El’s selected topic of discussion. Surely he was not called here in the middle of the night to converse about literature.
“Earth has some amazing myths,” the First Minister continued. “Full of demons and angels and other worlds. Most people on Earth believe in an afterlife – that the human soul is judged upon death. The righteous go to paradise and the wicked are damned to an eternity of torment in hell. Countless volumes have been filled describing hell, the torture one suffers there. Plenty have written about paradise, too, but for whatever reason, people have always been fixated on hell.” Kal El looked up at Trey, a dark, stony expression on his face.
“How very fascinating,” Trey replied, trying not to flinch.
“The best known of these accounts was written centuries ago by a man named Dante. He described it as a series of concentric circles, each more gruesome and horrible than the last. Each the final destination of a particular sort of villain. Thieves, murders, liars, they all had their own place, and their own specific torment. And in the last circle, Trey, was the place where the worst of the worst were cast. Can you imagine what sort of monster would be sent there?”
“Well, sir,” Trey stammered, unsettled by the look in Kal El’s eye and the menacing note creeping into his voice. The First Minister stood, drawing himself up to his full, imposing height. He stood just a few inches taller than Trey, but he seemed to loom larger than life, a towering figure, whose intimidating size was normally tempered by a gentle disposition. Not a trace of that gentleness was present at that moment.
“Traitors,” he said, cutting Trey off. Kal El stepped forward and Trey found himself in the other man’s shadow. His fierce eyes, so dark they appeared black, narrowed. “The deepest circle of hell is reserved for those who betray.”
“Sir,” Trey nearly choked as he tried to form a response, to defend himself against the charge. But as the words started to gather, he realized there was no defense. He was not being unjustly accused.
“Enough!” Kal El snapped. “You were the only one who knew that Zara and I would be at the hearing. Who did you tell?”
Trey’s eyes widened in fear. He suppressed the shiver that ran through him. “Only the jurist, Pelmon…”
“Who must have told Rae Et,” Kal El mused.
“I did not know…” Trey began.
“I have never expected blind loyalty,” Kal El said, a deep frown carved into his expression. He stepped forward so that he was mere inches from Trey, looking down at the older man with a glare that Trey would have sworn could have melted steel. “If you opposed my leadership or my decisions, you were free to criticize them, to leave the administration. But what you’ve done isn’t a betrayal of me, Trey; I couldn’t care less about that. You’ve colluded with the enemies of everything you claimed to stand for. You aided them in their attempt to bring chaos and death to this world.”
Trey shook his head agitatedly. “I never meant to…” He took a step back, his heart pounding the rhythmless staccato of the hunted.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kal El replied abruptly. “Whatever you intended, you compromised the safety of this entire government and undermined everything we’ve worked for. I no longer have use for your company or your counsel, Trey.”
Kal El pulled out his communicator and jabbed a single button. “Ensign Parth, please join us,” he said with a voice so calm and even that it frightened Trey even more.
The doors slid open and the young officer entered the large room. “Good evening, sir,” he said with a solemn bow.
“Ensign Parth, please place Trey under arrest,” Kal El said with such casualness that he might as well have been dismissing the night watch. The First Minister then turned and walked away without sparing his former Chief of Staff even one wayward glance.
“Of course, sir,” Parth replied with equal officiousness and lack of emotion. Trey did not even try to move or resist as the younger man bound his hands with cuffs and led him away. He felt his heart sink, as though it was being pulled down by lead weights, leaving a gaping, empty space in his chest. The vacuum it formed crushing him from the inside out.
********
“I want Pelmon placed under surveillance,” Clark demanded. He stopped pacing and looked up at the large screen displaying the frowning visage of his most trusted commander.
“But sir, he is an arbiter and a jurist. You lack the authority to remove him or interfere with his decisions,” Talan cautioned.
“I don’t care,” Clark replied in frustration, placing his hands on his hips. “I don’t have enough evidence to convince the Council to remove him and he has too many powerful allies in that body, but he is still a danger. One of the most dangerous people on New Krypton.”
“I will look into what can be done,” Talan promised. “But perhaps I should confer with Captain Enza so as to avoid running afoul of the law, if possible.”
Clark shook his head. “I don’t want to do anything to compromise her position,” he said, aware that Enza’s first duty was to the law, not to any person or office.
“I will be discreet, sir,” Talan assured him. “If you require nothing further…”
“Goodnight, Commander.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
********
“I wonder what is keeping him so long,” Ching mused as he stared at the door. He sat at the large conference table in the First Ministers’ private quarters, his back ramrod straight as always. Zara approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He covered her hand with his and looked up at her, a slight smile spreading across his face.
“I just spoke with him,” Zara replied. “He believes Trey was responsible.”
“Trey?” Ching asked incredulously.
“Clark said that Trey did not deny it,” Zara confirmed.
Ching shook his head. “I can hardly believe it.”
“He was the only other person who knew we would be there. And I feel that Clark was starting to doubt in his loyalty.”
“Why?”
Zara squeezed his shoulder gently. “Because he cautioned us against supporting you too strongly.”
“Well if that were grounds to doubt his fidelity then perhaps Kal El doubts mine as well,” Ching mused.
“His faith in you is boundless,” Zara replied.
“And it is why I am still alive,” Ching agreed. “I have not even had the chance to thank him.”
“He saved both of our lives.”
Ching entwined his fingers with hers. “I shall have to thank him for that, too. Are you certain you are all right?”
“I believe I already had this conversation with Tao Scion. I am fine, I promise you.”
The doors opened and Kal El entered at last. Ching stood at attention and bowed, but Kal El held up a hand as though to dismiss the need for any formalities.
“Trey is under arrest,” he declared, dispensing with greetings.
“Are you certain he was responsible?” Zara asked.
“I am,” Kal El replied, almost ruefully. “I shouldn’t have trusted him; I should never have told him where we were going to be.”
“You could not have known, sir,” Ching interjected.
Kal El shrugged off Ching’s assurance. “Has the gunman cooperated at all?”
Zara shook her head. “He refuses to speak.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kal El replied. “Trey told Pelmon, who must have told Rae Et.”
“Proving it will be difficult,” Zara mused.
“I know,” Kal El agreed. “But it’s late now and it’s been a long day. We can discuss it in the morning.”
“Of course,” Zara replied.
“You should get some rest,” Kal El said quietly. “Both of you.” He started toward his bedroom.
“Sir?” Ching asked. Kal El turned back around. “I never thanked you properly, for saving my life.”
Kal El smiled wearily. “This world is in desperate need of good men, Ching. We need you to keep fighting.” With that, he entered his room and closed the door behind him.
********
Glumly, Clark rose the following morning without having actually slept the night before. He stretched but it did nothing to ease the tension in his body. He felt numb. The maelstrom of emotions--from anxiety to elation to fear to anger--everyone had endured the previous day had left him feeling nothing.
Confronting Trey had had a theatrical quality to it. More than a touch surreal, he could scarcely believe the encounter had actually happened and wasn’t merely something he’d witnessed in a dream. He’d been forced to check his anger; rage had flowed white hot through his veins and it had been all he could do to temper it. Betrayal, especially by one so trusted, burned. It festered and worried at him, nurturing the fury that grew inside. Never before in his life would he have acted so swiftly, so vindictively, but he had no choice now. Far more than his life was at stake and he could scarcely afford to be lenient. The enemies of the administration were powerful and like a virus, had infected the society and all its elements. The fifth column was no mere paranoiac delusion. It could not be denied and it was suicide to underestimate it. Fighting it required a pragmatism that Clark was unused to and had no taste for.
But what choice did he have?
With a sigh of resignation, he made his way to his washroom. The challenges of another day stretched out before him. Whether he was ready or not, they needed to be addressed and they were his burden to bear.
********
“It has been four days and you’ve not yet chosen a new chief of staff,” Ching murmured aloud as he paced nervously in the First Ministers’ quarters.
“Clark is not anxious to name a successor to Trey. Trey is cooperating, however. He’s volunteered to remain under home confinement,” Zara explained. They had bid Clark goodnight a short while earlier. The past few days had clearly taken their toll on him and it was clear that he was not sleeping well.
“Trey knows what he has done, though I doubt he intended the consequences of his actions. Still, I cannot forgive him.”
Zara nodded in understanding. “It is hard to forgive so dangerous a betrayal by one who was so trusted.” She stood up from her seat beside the conference table and walked toward him.
Ching placed his hands on her shoulders and favored her with a slight smile. “Have I told you how amazed I am at how well you have handled all this? Although, I suppose I should not be surprised.”
She reached up and touched his cheek before resting her head against his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Is everything all right?” Ching asked, the concern evident in his voice.
“Everything is fine,” she replied.
Ching pulled her more tightly into his embrace. He felt her body shudder with a sigh as she buried her face against his shoulder. “Perhaps that sounded more convincing to you than it did to me,” he said with a sad smile. He relaxed his arms and with one hand, tilted her chin up to look in her eyes. “Please talk to me.”
She looked up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I am just being foolish,” she replied hollowly.
“You are incapable of being foolish and you have been through more in the last few weeks than most would be able to tolerate.” He’d known Zara for over two decades and had never seen her cry, and if anyone had, it would have been him. She was practiced at controlling her emotions, but she was closer to breaking down at this moment than he had ever seen her. “Please talk to me,” he repeated.
“I was worried about you,” she replied unconvincingly.
“Nothing happened to me and I am fine. If what happened the other day is still bothering you, it is all right, it is to be expected.” He fought to keep the tremor out of his voice when he said the words. The assassination attempt had left him badly shaken. The exhilarating taste of unexpected freedom was quickly replaced by bitter fear and anger as Zara’s life had once again been placed in jeopardy.
“It is not that.” She turned so that her back was to him. He did not push, hoping that she would choose to open up to him. “There is something I have not told you, and I only realized now that it has been slowly tearing me apart inside.”
“You can tell me anything,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around her again.
She sighed again. “When my ship was shot down and we crashed, I suffered internal bleeding, you know that.” Zara turned to face him again.
Ching merely nodded, surprised at how much pain her simple words could cause him. The fleeting reminder was enough to open the wound.
“What I did not tell you is that my injuries left me unable to have children,” she whispered, still avoiding eye contact. Ching remained silent, knowing that there was nothing he could say. His hand slipped into her hair and cradled the back of her head. He pulled her closer, enfolding her in his arms, holding her against his chest. Neither said a word. He could almost feel her pain radiating from her slender frame. He wanted more than anything to soothe it away, to make the pain disappear, or to at least take the burden from her, but he could do none of these things.
“It seems silly for me to be affected by this; it was unlikely that I would have ever had children,” she whispered against his chest.
“But that should have been your choice. That was taken from you. Of course it hurts,” he murmured. Ching kissed the top of her head, still holding her tightly. “What did your parents say?” he asked.
“They do not know,” she replied.
“You have not told them?” he asked, puzzled.
“I told no one besides you. You are the only other person this affects.”
Ching ran his fingers gently through her hair. She looked up at him and touched his cheek. Zara kissed him softly. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. “You are the only man whose children I ever thought I would have, but now I cannot give you that,” she said, her lips only inches from his.
“Shhhh,” he whispered as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “You have given me everything. Everything I have, everything I have ever wanted. I only wish that I could have spared you this pain.”
“I did not believe that learning I would never be a mother would affect me so strongly,” she admitted.
He kissed her again. “We may never have our own children, but that does not change the fact that you already are a mother. You have a mother’s love for this world. You care for it, protect it, sacrifice for it. That is what motherhood is.”
Her arms around his neck, she closed the small gap between them and kissed him. Their lips met hesitantly, in the barest whisper of a kiss, devoid of passion, but conveying an unspoken tenderness, a quiet, gentle reaffirmation of feelings never adequately communicated with words alone. He sighed.
She pressed the length of her body against his and deepened the kiss and the sigh became a sharp intake of breath. He responded on instinct, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. His pulse thundered in his ears, his blood singing swiftly through his veins. The warm, heavy fog of passion began to cloud judgment before he realized what he was doing and abruptly stopped. She frowned slightly and opened her eyes, looking at him pleadingly.
“Your injuries,” he murmured between labored breaths.
“Have healed,” she replied. He touched her cheek, letting his fingers trail along soft skin and brushed her kiss-reddened lips with his thumb. “I am fine,” she assured him. “Unless you do not want…” she trailed off.
That was a notion he needed to disabuse her of quickly. “Of course I want to.” His body was doing a fine job of reminding him of just how long it had been. He’d not seen Zara for the entirety of his detention and trial. Since he’d been freed days ago, they’d not had a moment’s peace and had not really broached the delicate subject of her condition. In his mind, he still thought about her lying in that hospital bed, so fragile and frail. “I do not wish to hurt you,” he said, giving voice to his fears.
“You won’t,” she replied, her certainty in that simple fact shining through in her words. He smiled, taking comfort in her faith in him. She kissed him again and he allowed himself to respond.
********
Their lovemaking was more gentle than passionate. She could tell that he controlled his every movement, his every response measured. His touch conveyed reverence, if not all- consuming desire. He paid worshipful homage to her; under his gentle ministrations, she’d never felt more loved before. She could sense his hesitance melt away as he began to trust his own instincts and the fundamental truth that he knew her body as well as his own. He could not cause her pain; it simply was not in him to do so.
They lay in a tangle of limbs, spent from their efforts, but happy. She smiled against the warm hollow of his shoulder as he ran his fingers through her hair. “I love you,” she whispered, knowing that he knew, but finding contentment in the simple words of reaffirmation.
He kissed her forehead. “I love you,” he replied softly. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” she said, smiling in amusement. “Actually, I think I am rather better than fine at the moment.”
“You, too?” he asked with a smile.
“Days ago I was certain that I would never be able to hold you or touch you again,” she whispered, unsure of her own voice. “I almost cannot believe that you are here.”
“I will do everything in my power to never leave you again,” he said softly as he tilted her chin up and kissed her lips. She closed her eyes, laid her head against his chest, and fell asleep in her lover’s arms.
