PART TWELVE
Flying.
Wow, flying. Who'd have thought it?
Clark turned onto his back on the sofa and let his imagination run free. Zooming around the old factory had been fun enough, but he couldn't wait to soar through the open skies. To swoop up as high as he could and then go diving back down through billowing clouds. To fly alongside flocks of birds or hover high over the countryside like a sparrow-hawk. To act like a stunt pilot and execute loop-the-loops and barrel rolls.
The prospects were exhilarating.
What would Lois think about flying? Would she want to go with him, fly in his arms? He grinned. Yeah, Lois was an adventurer. She’d demand to come with him as soon as he told her he could fly – really fly, not just float. He couldn’t wait to take her.
And all this because Lois’s twin in this universe had decided to teach him. Okay, he knew she had an ulterior motive – tomorrow’s meeting in the park with Schulz – but still. She’d been great. Encouraging and reassuring. He could even forgive her unconventional teaching methods when the end result was so wonderful. In fact, she was pretty wonderful. He could see why the other Clark loved her so much and, moreover, depended so heavily on her. She was resourceful, clever, and strong.
Just like his own Lois. A slow smile curved across his face as he imagined the scene. Him, soaring easily through the skies, a light breeze on his face and the entire world laid out like a giant playground before him. Lois, cradled snugly in his arms, peering down through the clouds and sharing his joyous laughter as they watched the changing patterns of the countryside below.
Yes, flying was pretty special.
***************
“Where have you been?”
Lana’s shrill demand greeted Clark as soon as he walked through the front door of their house. She stood before him in the hall, her face pale and strained, her hands screwed into tight fists by her sides.
“How was the art class?” he asked.
Her lips pursed into a thin line. “Fine. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Out,” he replied. “I went for a walk.”
“At this time of night?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. “Believe what you like.” He walked past her to the lounge. “I suggest you go to bed. I’m sleeping downstairs tonight.”
“Why?”
“If you think I’m sharing a bed with you after what you did last night, you must be crazy,” he replied. “Good night, Lana.”
He shut the lounge door without looking back at her. Behind him, he heard quick, heaving breaths as she, no doubt, glared angrily at the closed door. He heard her feet shuffle uncertainly on the stripped wooden floor of the hall and then she turned and thudded quickly upstairs.
He flopped down on the sofa with a sigh. He should have been nicer to her. She was undoubtedly still in shock from her meeting with Trask and, understandably, she was panicked. Her nice tidy world of note-taking and dutiful reporting had just been turned upside down. Not only had she discovered that she, too, was being watched, but from the sound of it, she was in serious trouble with Trask as well.
But he couldn’t bring himself to endure more than the barest interaction with her. Besides not wanting to pretend he didn’t know what she’d just gone through, he found he had very little sympathy for her. Until she did something to redeem herself – something unselfish and preferably of significant help to her husband – he could see little in Lana Lang that was worth caring about.
Especially when he’d just left a still shaken but extremely plucky Lois Lane alone in her apartment. No selfish scheming over there - once she’d discovered, to their joint relief and not a little surprise, that there were no bugs or cameras planted in her apartment, all of Lois’s concern had directed itself back at her lover. How, she’d fretted, was she going to break this to him? He didn’t take threats of exposure well, and this was on an entirely new level to anything he’d so far dealt with. Should she perhaps look into counselling support for him? Have a phone number at the ready in case he needed more help than she could give him? Could she even organise that without having to disclose his real identity?
Clark had reassured her, with a certain lack of inner conviction, that she was as good a counsellor as the other Clark would need, and that perhaps he was stronger than she gave him credit for. She’d smiled and nodded hopefully. He’d left her with a promise to be there in no time at all if she needed him – his instruction to call “Help, Superman!” had raised a further wan smile – and a further promise to sweep the Daily Planet for bugs early the following morning.
So here he was, sitting on the sofa in a house full of cameras and listening devices. Well, he could do something about that, at least.
Five minutes later he’d eliminated the lot, except those in Lana’s bedroom, which he’d deal with tomorrow once she was up and moving around the house. Skywatch had been pretty imaginative in their placing of the devices – there were metal ornament collections scattered all over the house, which up until tonight he’d assumed were Lana’s family heirlooms. He hadn’t liked them much, but otherwise hadn’t given them a second glance. Even when he and Lois had been searching for the kryptonite, he hadn’t checked them. He’d have to be a lot more careful in future. In the meantime...
The muffled sounds of quiet sobbing interrupted his thoughts.
Lana. Quietly and discreetly crying into her pillow, by the sound of it. For a moment, her distress tugged at his heart. She was alone and scared up there. Unlike her husband, she had no-one to comfort her when things turned against her.
He could go up there, give her a cuddle and zap the cameras at the same time.
But no. She didn’t deserve to be comforted. It might even do her some good to know real fear and loneliness for a while – maybe she’d realise what a terrible thing she’d done.
He turned over and pulled the blankets up around his chin.
***************
“Can you move your left hand a little further down my legs?”
Being carried by a novice Superman was an educational experience. Lois hadn’t realised how expert her husband had become until this Clark had lifted her up and clumsily launched himself skywards.
It was morning and they were on their way to the park to meet with Schulz. Lois was looking forward to the encounter – she always felt happier when she was doing something constructive. When the something involved outwitting a person she didn’t much like, she felt even happier.
“Sorry.” Clark shifted his hand and immediately she felt more comfortable. “Is that better?”
She nodded. “Much. Now all you have to do is figure out how to land gracefully with me in your arms.”
He grimaced. “Maybe we should have practiced.”
“You’ll be fine.” She winked. “Just don’t drop me.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he answered dryly. “Your husband would never forgive me.”
“Believe me, I’d never forgive you, either.” She peered down to the ground. “There he is. Take us in, Superman.”
“Your wish is my command, Ms Lane,” he replied gravely, the sides of his mouth twitching as he fought to maintain his serious hero image.
She grinned. He was so much nicer now that he’d learned to fly. At last she could see what the other Lois might have seen in him – why she’d stuck with him while he swithered between his wife and her.
Dr Schulz looked gratifyingly off-balance when they landed in front of him. “I wasn’t expecting you, Superman. It’s an honour to meet you.”
Clark nodded brusquely. “Dr Schulz.”
Lois slithered out of Clark’s arms and smiled brightly at the scientist. “Hi. I’m your mystery caller.”
Schulz’s cordial smile faded. “Ms Lane. I should have known. Your hostility to my experiments was all too clear at our last meeting.”
She shrugged. “If you choose to interpret my questions as hostile, that’s your prerogative, of course. In fact, I often find that people who feel uncomfortable answering my questions interpret them as hostile. Did you feel uncomfortable, Dr Schulz?”
“Not at all, Ms Lane.” The corners of his mouth pulled downwards dismissively. “I’m used to hacks rubbishing my work.”
“Sir, that’s a little strong, isn’t it?” intervened Clark. “In my experience, Ms Lane is a well-respected reporter with a sound professional approach to her work.”
“If you say so, Superman,” replied Schulz. “You probably know her better than I do.”
“He knows my work,” said Lois firmly. “Which brings us to today’s business. Superman, would you care to explain?”
“Certainly. Dr Schulz, over the past few weeks I’ve been aware of a strange phenomenon affecting me occasionally. Since yesterday, I have reason to believe that this may be linked to your use of the matter transmitting device you are developing at Star Labs.”
Schulz blanched. “Really? That’s...that’s most unlikely. Can you describe this phenomenon?”
“No.” Clark’s tone was blunt. “I’m sure you’ll understand that my personal information is extremely confidential. I can’t afford for it to fall into the wrong hands.”
“Superman, I can assure you-“
“I’m sorry, Dr Schulz. The only person who is privy to such information is my personal physician, Dr Klein.”
Lois had to suppress a sly grin as Schulz’s expression turned sour. As she’d expected, he didn’t enjoy Bernard Klein, of all people, having greater access to confidential information than he did himself. “I see,” he replied. “Well, can you at least tell me why you think it has anything to do with my device?”
“Of course.” Clark crossed his arms over his chest, adopted his recently-learned Superman stance, and, in a tone that brooked no dissent or question, continued. “Ms Lane happened to witness the latest instance of this phenomenon and had the presence of mind to contact you. When she discovered that you’d just operated the device, the source of the problem became clear.”
“How do you know that wasn’t just a coincidence?” pounced Schulz.
“He doesn’t,” said Lois. “But do you really want to take the risk that it isn’t a coincidence?”
Schulz shrugged. “Well-“
“Just imagine the adverse publicity if it became known that your device may be interfering with Superman’s ability to protect this city,” suggested Lois. “That might help you decide.”
Schulz’s eyes flashed angrily. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said. “There’s no proof.”
Lois raised an eyebrow. “Are you doubting Superman’s word, Dr Schulz?”
A steely glare from Clark cut off any riposte Schulz might have made to that. Instead, he pursed his lips and replied, “Okay, but if Superman won’t share with me the nature of this so-called phenomenon, how am I to take this any further?”
“Well, clearly further testing is required to prove Superman’s theory, but since only Dr Klein can be witness to any effects which result, here’s what I suggest,” said Lois. “One, you suspend all experiments with immediate effect. Two, you hand over all your notes and the use of your lab to Dr Klein so that he can carry out the necessary tests with Superman. When the tests are complete, Dr Klein will inform you of the results and help you make any necessary adjustments to the device to make it safe.”
“If that’s possible,” added Clark. “While I fully support scientific advances of this nature, safety must be our first concern, mustn’t it, Dr Schulz?”
“Ah...yes, Superman.”
“So you agree to my suggestions?” asked Lois.
“Agree? This is preposterous! You expect me to blithely hand over my research notes to a...a...”
“Dr Klein is highly respected within the scientific community, isn’t he?” enquired Clark. “I should have thought you’d consider it an honour to hand over to such an esteemed colleague.”
“Naturally,” replied Schulz, looking and sounding as if the word had been squeezed out of him like toothpaste. “Which is why...why I’d like to work with him on this. A collaboration.” He stretched his features into a sickly smile. “Surely such a great scientist as Dr Bernard Klein would welcome the opportunity to help a less...privileged colleague.”
“Usually, I’m sure he would,” agreed Lois. “But we’ve already explained why you can’t be party to this work. Superman is as entitled to patient confidentiality as you or I, wouldn’t you say?”
Schulz’s smile disappeared. “You appear to have me over a barrel, Ms Lane,” he said. “I’m afraid this smacks of blackmail, however, and if I detect even the slightest indication that you are abusing your position as a member of the free press, I will contact your editor and express my displeasure in the strongest possible terms.”
Lois smiled. “I’m sure Mr White would be delighted to take your call. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Superman needs to visit with Dr Klein to appraise him of our agreement.”
Clark nodded curtly at Dr Schulz. “Thank you for your co-operation, sir.”
“It’s been a pleasure, Superman.” Schulz eyed Lois with barely-disguised contempt. “But if I were you, I’d take a good look at the company I keep.”
Lois bit her lip to keep from grinning and hopped into Clark’s waiting arms.
**************
There were no cameras at the Planet, but there were listening devices. Clark destroyed them all, berating himself continuously. He really ought to have noticed these, and the bristling array of equipment at the house, much earlier than this. He should have been more suspicious. He should have made himself think more like Jason Trask – the man was the personification of paranoia.
He’d been too focused on Lana. She’d become the enemy he had to outwit; an enemy whose modus operandi had been to write long notebooks about her husband and report them back to Skywatch, not to spy with high-tech electronic devices. And it just hadn’t occurred to him that her bosses might have added their own level of surveillance.
Conversely, he could understand why the other Clark hadn’t noticed. From what Lois had told him, his counterpart’s powers had been, for all practical purposes, completely switched off, whereas he was certain that a little motor needed to keep ticking over at the back of his consciousness in order for the powers to activate when needed. It was kind of like the difference between having the pilot light on a boiler switched on or off: if it was on, then the boiler could fire when instructed by the timer, but if it was off, then the boiler was dead until someone came along to relight the pilot.
He chuckled: Lois was just the right person to relight this Clark’s pilot light.
He used his heat vision on the last device and tossed it in his trash can, smiling wryly. The cleaners would have an interesting time tonight.
Meanwhile, where would he be tonight? Tucked up in bed with his wife, he hoped. He missed her – especially here at the Planet, where she ought to be sitting at that desk opposite his. It just wasn’t fair that so soon into their marriage, they were being forced apart every couple of days. How were they supposed to learn how to live together as man and wife when they never got more than a day or so’s practice at a time?
Still, they’d fix this, he was sure. He and Lois always sorted things out eventually.
“Did you find anything?”
He swivelled in his chair to find Lois standing before his desk. “Yes. But you can relax – I just zapped the last one.”
“Good.”
She looked pale. Her eyes lacked life, and even her voice, usually so animated, was dull. “You okay?” he enquired softly.
She shrugged. “Didn’t sleep too well.” She unfastened the buttons of her coat and peeled it off. “So I guess this means they know everything.”
He nodded. “I should think so.”
“I feel so dirty.” She turned away quickly and moved to hang her coat on the coat stand near her desk.
He pushed back his chair and strode over to her. “Hey,” he murmured, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to be here? Perhaps you should go home for the day.”
She shook her head. “Working’s better. I’ll only obsess about it at home.”
“Okay.” He wanted to say more – tell her she just had to say the word and he’d take over from her so she could go home early, for example. Or tell her he was there if she needed a shoulder to cry on. Anything to make her feel better. But he suspected she wouldn’t welcome his offers of support. She wanted business as usual, as if nothing at all was wrong. Just as his own Lois would have wanted, he realised. So he bit back his words of comfort and tried a change of subject instead. “By the way, Lana left this morning.”
“Left?” Lois swivelled to face him. “Left where?”
“To her parents,” he explained. “She said she needed a few days to think things over.”
Lois snorted. “In other words, she can’t bear the prospect of remaining in that house with all its cameras and bugs.”
“Yeah. Shame she doesn’t know I destroyed them all.”
“Serves her right,” retorted Lois.
He grimaced. “I have to admit I had similar thoughts last night. Although I do wonder whether she’s more of a victim in this than we give her credit for.”
“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Lois. “She didn’t have to spend the last twenty years spying on Clark. She betrayed him, can’t you see that? He trusted her with his life – literally, his life – and she trampled all over him.”
“I agree that she’s guilty of all that,” he replied. “But I don’t think she ever expected Trask to go as far as he has. In fact, I think she’s only just beginning to see him for what he really is.”
“Well, tough. She made a pact with the devil and now she’s paying the price. I hope she rots in hell.”
“Kent!” Clark jumped at the barked interjection and turned to find Perry bearing down on him with a stern expression. “I hope that suit means you’ve brought a better attitude with you today.”
“Um...yes,” replied Clark. Better attitude?
“Good, because I need you to cover the opening of the new subway extension downtown.” Perry lifted his left arm and made an ostentatious show of checking his wrist watch. “You have precisely thirty-three minutes to get your butt down there. Lois, there’s been another knifing incident at St Patrick’s school. Check it out.”
Lois was already reaching for her coat. “On it, Chief.”
“Me, too,” added Clark.
He waited until Perry had stalked off to assail another member of staff, then turned to Lois. “Better attitude?”
She grimaced. “Clark took his feelings about Lana out on Perry yesterday, and since Perry is already down on Clark for his less than stellar performance lately, the timing couldn’t have been worse.”
“Ouch.” Clark winced. “What happened?”
“Perry sent him home.”
“You’re kidding! Why-“
“Kent, I don’t see you moving yet.” Perry’s voice boomed across the newsroom. “You planning on flying there?”
Clark grimaced. “Actually, I am,” he murmured to Lois. “But don’t tell him.”
She chuckled. “I’ll see you later.”
***************
“Wow, will you look at all this equipment? No wonder my budget has been slashed in half.”
Glancing around Dr Schulz’s gleaming lab, Clark had to agree with Dr Klein. He was no expert, but it seemed that every high-tech scientific instrument known to man was arranged around the room. Centre-stage was the teleportation machine, planted right in the middle of the lab.
Clark joined Lois and Dr Klein in a slow tour around the machine. On one side there was a console made up of a screen, keyboard and mouse and on the other, there seemed to some kind of vast power generator from which a tangle of coloured wires emerged, leading up to a jumbled collection of oscilloscopes and anonymous black boxes. The crowning glory of the entire structure was an arrangement of four satellite dishes – at least, that was the nearest analogy Clark could make.
“What are those?” he asked Dr Klein.
“They broadcast the teleportation signal,” replied Klein. “And this,“ he said, holding up a small black cube, “is one of the receivers.”
“So if I were to activate this now,” said Lois, studying the console with interest, “you’d end up ten feet to my right?”
Dr Klein hurried to her side and quickly jabbed a key. “Let’s not find out just yet.”
Lois pouted. “It looks pretty straightforward to me.”
“Trust me,” said Klein. “It’s not.” He turned to Clark. “So, to recap, Superman, you think this is the machine which is responsible for sending you into the other universe, yes?”
Clark nodded. He and Lois had already explained all about the body swaps between universes – they’d agreed that Dr Klein would have to know everything so that he could help them test the machine. He even knew that the Superman he was addressing was from the other universe.
What he didn’t know, Clark was only too acutely aware, was that this Superman was a fake who’d only just learned how to fly the previous day. “I’m curious as to how you think it might be doing that, though,” he said, pitching his voice lower than usual – as Lois had instructed him to do. “I understand from Clark that you don’t think it’s capable of transmitting brainwaves, for example.”
Klein frowned. “I didn’t think so, no. But those unexplained energy spikes I’ve seen are certainly suspicious. Tell me, Superman, do you know of any reason why your brain might work differently to ours?”
“No, I don’t think-“
“He’s telepathic!” exclaimed Lois. “Aren’t you, Superman?”
He was?
He stared at her, feeling utterly un-telepathic at that precise moment. Was she serious? Telepathy? Wow. “Um...yeah,” he said, realising Klein was waiting for his answer. “I mean yes. I’m telepathic.”
Lois was nodding encouragingly so, somewhat emboldened, he continued. “I don’t...use it much...here?” She nodded again. “So I tend to forget that I am.” He switched his gaze to Dr Klein. “Telepathic, that is.” He realised his voice had risen out of deep, sonorous Superman mode up into bewildered, rather high-pitched Clark mode and quickly cleared his throat. “Does that make a difference?” he asked, pitching his voice back down in his boots.
Dr Klein also looked bewildered, but whether from consternation that Superman didn’t seem aware of his own abilities or from surprise that Superman was telepathic, Clark wasn’t too sure. “Um...quite possibly. How does this telepathy work?”
“How does it work?” Yikes, he had no idea. He turned to Lois for clues. “How does it work? Well...”
“You told me once that you didn’t know how it worked,” offered Lois obligingly. “Kind of like I don’t know how my hearing works. I just know that it does.”
Of course. Clark nodded. “That’s right.” He looked at Klein. “I don’t know how it works.”
“O-kay.” Dr Klein began pacing around the lab. “Well, let’s hypothesise. If your brain is telepathic, then it’s possible that it emits some kind of telepathic signal – let’s call it a psi wave. Perhaps you’re constantly broadcasting that signal so that other telepaths know you’re open for communication, as it were. Now, if the signal Schulz’s machine is programmed to detect is on the same wavelength as your psi wave transmission, then that might explain why your brain activity, rather than your entire body, is being teleported.”
“Sounds plausible to me,” said Lois. “But why between universes?”
“I’m not sure,” replied Klein. “But we do know that some of Schulz’s wood blocks simply disappeared during teleportation. Could it be that they, too, were transmitted to the other universe?”
“It’s possible,” agreed Lois. “Superman, you haven’t happened to have noticed a stray pile of wood blocks anywhere in the other universe, by any chance?”
Clark chuckled. “No. But we shouldn’t discount the theory, even so.”
“Exactly. So, now that we have a working hypothesis,” said Klein, “we need to devise some tests.”
****************
Two hours later, Clark was sitting on a stool in front of the teleportation device, feeling uncomfortably like the experimental animal of his childhood nightmares. Dr Klein had already performed a number of small tests on him, and now he was waiting for the scientist to complete his preparations for the big one: attempting a body swap.
If it worked, their collective ordeal of the past few days would at last be over. If it failed...
Hopefully, nothing untoward would happen if it failed.
His stomach was churning, though. He’d been asked to sit facing away from the machine – something about safety, which didn’t exactly increase his confidence – so he couldn’t even see what Dr Klein and his co-opted assistant, Lois, were up to.
“How’s it going?” he called.
“Just sit tight,” replied Klein. “Shouldn’t be long now.”
“Okay.” He closed his eyes and commanded his stomach to be still.
At least he’d had a chance to be Superman.
Not just to wear the suit, either. On their flight from the park to meet Dr Klein, Clark had noticed a small knot of people in an alley a couple of blocks from Star Labs. Something about the scene had seemed wrong, and when he’d dipped down for a better view, he’d realised that the person trapped in the centre of the group was receiving a vicious beating.
His response had been automatic. Quickly, he’d landed a short distance away and issued a terse, “Stay here,” to Lois before moving swiftly into the fray. He’d reached the middle of the group and, purely by reflex, had managed to block the next blow simply by putting his hand in the path of the swinging fist. There was a yelp of pain from the assailant followed by an indignant expletive.
“Anyone else want to chance their luck?” he’d asked sternly, swinging his gaze around the rest of the group.
Collectively, they’d hung their heads and muttered sullen curses.
He’d been feeling pretty pleased with his first foray into Superman’s work when he’d realised that the furthest away members of the group were beginning to melt away into the shadows. Oh, no, they didn’t! Moving as fast as he was able – which was pretty fast, he’d discovered - he’d grabbed them one at a time and deposited them in a nearby dumpster. Then he’d closed the lid, fused the lock and drilled a few air holes with his fingers.
“Not bad,” Lois had observed, pulling out her cell phone. “I’ll call the police while you take him to hospital.” She’d nodded at the victim, who lay curled up on the ground.
Clark had hurried to his side, gingerly lifted him up and flown to Metropolis General. The medic who’d taken charge, when Clark had asked anxiously for a prognosis, had shrugged and said, “Looks like you got there just in time, Superman.”
So he’d saved someone.
It felt good – though not quite as amazing as he’d expected. He found himself worrying about the victim, wanting to know if he was really going to be okay. Why he’d been attacked. Would they gang up on him again as soon as he was out on the streets again? Rescuing people, he’d discovered, wasn’t as simple as merely pulling them away from danger.
“Okay, Superman, we’re ready,” said Klein.
If this worked, he’d never know if his first save had been a complete success. Still, the guy had a better chance of survival than he would have had otherwise.
“Hold on,” said Lois, and then she was standing in front of him. “I might not see you again,” she explained. “So...I just wanted to tell you I think you’re going to make a pretty fine Superman. And I hope everything else works out for you.”
Wow – and to think they’d started out as practically sworn enemies! “Thank you,” he exclaimed. “And thank you for all your help.”
She smiled. “It was fun.” She leant forward and, to his great surprise, kissed him on the cheek. “Just make sure you don’t hold out on my counterpart much longer,” she murmured. “We Loises can get mighty cranky when we’re kept waiting.”
He chuckled. “I know. And I won’t.”
“Okay.” She patted his arm briefly and then went back to join Klein at the controls. “He’s ready.”
Clark held his breath, and...
***************
