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Chapter 9: Don't Know What You're Expecting of Me~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Early March 19979 months, 22 Days Since Clark Left Home"I've become so tired; so much more awareI'm becoming this; all I want to doIs be more like me, and be less like you..."
Numb by Linkin Park~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The groan of the hitch and ball grinding against each other grated on Clark's ears as he turned the old truck and flat deck trailer onto the two-lane highway. He wished he'd remembered to grease it before they'd left. He shook his head slightly to try and rid his mind of the sound of metal against metal, but the silence inside the cab of the truck was more uncomfortable.
Clark glanced over again at his dad in the passenger seat—from all outward appearances, it seemed like he was just peacefully watching the miles and miles of flat farmland go by. New Krypton's terrain had been anything but flat—it was rough, rocky, and unforgiving. It was lucky, Clark mused, that their advanced technology included all manner of hovercraft. Then again, had it not, they might not have colonized the planet in the first place.
Clark sighed heavily. He didn't want to be thinking about New Krypton. He didn't want to be driving out to the Tractor Supply in Emporia. He didn't want to feel any kind of resentful toward his dad for needing help with getting fence replacement supplies or for dragging him out of the house at an early hour.
He wanted to be home with Lois and Kallie. He needed to be. Everything had been hard and stressful lately, and he felt like he'd been doing nothing but upsetting and irritating everyone around him. The guilt tore at him, having to spend time away from Lois, away from Kallie, when what he needed to be doing was making up for all that he'd missed.
But on the same side of that token...there'd been plenty he'd missed with his dad, too. Weekly dinners, for one. Their talks. More importantly, though, he'd missed almost a whole year of helping his dad on the farm, all the maintenance and upkeep he usually helped out with. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to make up for all he'd time he'd been gone.
He hated that he was even having these thoughts on this drive, this so-familiar drive from Smallville to Emporia, now sullied by guilt and resentment. He'd always loved driving to the supply store with his dad, ever since he was a kid, most of it on this long stretch of two-lane highway. It had been a time when he'd get his dad's undivided attention, when they didn't have to be focused on the manual labor of the farm work and could have actual conversations.
"Sorry I wasn't around to help you get the fence repaired sooner, Dad. I know it's been on your list for a while now."
"Nothing that couldn't have waited, else I'd have hired a hand by now," his dad said simply as he took his glasses off to clean them with his handkerchief.
Clark's hand came up to his face to check that his glasses were in place. This was the first time he'd worn them since...since before he'd left for New Krypton. He hated that they felt unfamiliar and that Lois had had to gently suggest and remind him to wear them in the first place. They were getting more comfortable as the morning went on, which only made sense, having worn them for decades of his life, but still...he hated that there was any unfamiliarity at all. Too many reminders of New Krypton and how different he'd been on that hostile rock they'd called a planet.
A small part of him even wondered if he need bother with the glasses any more at all. He had trouble seeing how he had any business putting on the suit again when he'd managed to compromise every single one of Superman's morals.
No! <<Zha!>> he told himself violently. He didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to feel.
<<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>He heard an impossibly soft creaking and realized he needed to relax his grip on the steering wheel before he made permanent indentations. He flexed his hands a bit, stretching and splaying out his fingers, before grabbing the wheel again.
The miles kept stretching on, and Clark wished this awkward, uneasy silence would disappear. He didn't even know what to talk to his dad about. While his dad wasn't typically a chatterbox, their time together usually had an easy ebb and flow to the conversation. It made Clark wonder if his dad didn't know what to talk about either, or if his dad had gotten direction from his mom on 'waiting until he was ready to talk'.
Something in the distance caught his eye, up ahead on the opposite side of the two-lane highway. Maybe a few miles away but getting closer quickly, given their speed. He reached up to tip his glasses down ever so slightly to take a look, and his heart lurched at the sight and started racing. For long seconds, he was frozen, his mind refusing to process the image in front of him. Then he shoved his glasses back up quickly, and he could feel himself get a bit restless in the driver's seat.
It was fine. It looked like everyone was fine. Everything was fine. A dull ache started somewhere in the back of his throat, his chest squeezed painfully, and he could feel his palms getting a bit sweaty against the steering wheel as the overturned box truck came more clearly into view. Every foot closer confirmed more details about what he'd seen with his enhanced vision. Its contents were strewn across the side of the highway, the detritus spanning at least 100 yards' distance. Supplies. Medical supplies.
"Oh!" his dad said. "Oh no, looks like an accident up ahead!"
"Yeah," Clark replied stiffly, images of a different vehicle on a different road invading his mind—a flash of an explosion and scattered, burning supplies.
The mid-sized delivery truck was on its side, the roll-up door was most of the way open, and Clark could see that it was more than half-empty. He was staring for half a second before he realized he'd slowed a little, his foot having eased up on the gas pedal. His hearing picked up the crackle of a radio dispatch, telling the driver assistance was on the way but it would be hours, then more heated words exchanged.
Clark shook his head to clear the thoughts and the rest of the transmission, and he punched down on the gas pedal again, speeding past just as they were coming alongside the wreckage.
<<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>He heard his dad clear his throat. "Clark, don't you think we should stop? See if he needs help?"
"Everything's fine. He looks fine," he said, trying to block the images and feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. "It's not like it's a job for Superman."
*#*#*#*
Early-September 19963 months, 23 days Since Clark Left Home"Who am I, Jen Mai?" Clark ground out, feeling his anger simmering just under the surface. "I am your commander."
Jen Mai flinched ever so slightly, and Clark couldn't help but feel smug about it. His most trusted advisors were...not always people he could trust. At least not to think like him, anticipate his needs, or strategize in a way that made sense to him. No one here thought like him, it seemed. No one.
Trey cleared his throat. "If I may, Lord Kal-El, as your advisor, I have to agree with Jen Mai in strongly endorsing a lethal strike by our forces here. They are blatantly violating the ban on transporting supplies into Kir-Tahn. Termination with extreme prejudice is the only way to enforce the ban."
"Medical supplies are non-negotiable," Clark said through clenched teeth. "I will not order a strike on a resource that is dwindling as we speak." Clark had already felt uncomfortable with the ban itself; it was bad enough when the deaths were merely theoretical...only eventual. Because maybe he could have resolved this conflict before the Kir-Tahnians died of starvation.
He was trying, trying so hard to make things work. Bury his feelings. Make things make sense. Not endanger any lives. Their cruel disregard for the sanctity of life was infuriating. He felt nauseated.
"Look at the map, both of you," Clark said, a sharp edge to his tone. "Tell me what you see."
Trey answered, "Troop deployments, alliance territory divisions, terrain designations..."
Clark swiped at the digital map and zoomed in on the area in question, and he glared as he indicated they should look again.
"Sector 4B, sir," said Jen Mai.
Clark bit back a growl. "Kir-Tahn. Population 342. Women, children, men. Families."
"My Lord," Jen Mai said. "It's an insignificant percentage of the population."
A quiet fury raged inside, seeping into his voice. "Since when are lives—Kryptonian lives—insignificant?"
Ching's mind tugged at his consciousness from the back of the room. <<
Restraint. Jahghah.>> <<But I'm trying to save lives. You brought me here to prevent
war, and we're AT war. What do you want me to do?>><<Every war harms the innocent. Do the most good. Jahghah. Now. Or you risk losing the support you do
have. You've been slipping too much lately.>>Clark felt his jaw tic as he tried to swallow back the outrage and bile threatening at the back of his throat.
Trey was talking now, and Kal-El brought his focus back.
"...the vehicle is a means to an end. Hopefully Lord Nor's end. If we strike now, it is but a few lives to advance our position in the war, secure our command. For the good of the people, Lord Kal-El. It's the most expeditious option.
L'ete ve'me com emmeg. The Code before the nation."Kao-zha-aovem-u. The fury fell back down to a simmering anger.
Jen Mai muttered, his disdain palpable. "He shouldn't need reminding of The Code."
Trey gave him a sharp warning. "Jen Mai. We are here to advise. You should do well to remember our place."
He saw Jen Mai's glare at Trey before he started in again. "My Lord," Jen Mai was back at it again. "These are headed for Lord Nor's camp, where they're essentially lost to us anyway. It's a strategic strike that could finally put Nor at a great disadvantage. Kir-Tahn is committing treason by providing safe harbor."
"We don't know that it was treason! Nor is very capable of invading and capturing an entire village, especially one of this size," Clark insisted.
"Lord Kal-El," Trey said in a tone more serious than before. "Lor Nor is
from Kir-Tan. We have every belief that his presence is not only welcomed, but celebrated. We cannot allow anyone to violate the supply ban."
He could practically feel Jen Mai's contempt, Trey's disappointment. That he should have remembered. Should have known.
Kao-zha-aovem-u.Kal-El swallowed and closed his eyes, but the image of the map still showed clearly in his mind. The number of lives he was holding in hands...starving them, forsaking them. He'd already made the hard decision—the ban, a final siege to force Nor's surrender. Was sacrificing the contents of a supply truck and murdering the few lives within worse than a siege?
He swallowed thickly, hoping it wasn't outwardly evident—his indecision, his hesitation, his utter revulsion at the idea of killing anyone. But what if the Kir-Tanians
were aiding and abetting Nor and his army? What then? Were their lives a worthy sacrifice to stop the madness and Nor's threat to Kal-El's rule?
An attendant entered the war room and handed Kal-El a scroll. He nodded a curt thanks and unrolled it as the attendant left again. His blood ran cold when he read the scouting report. There were medical personnel aboard the transporter vehicle. Doctors and nurses.
Kao-zha-aovem-u.The room was silent, waiting for his command as though they knew there was only one choice to be made. He couldn't afford to show any more weakness. Ching was warning him daily of his inadequate performance and how much of a threat it was to his position; the people's fealty to the House of El was faltering.
Zara and Ching had both shown him more than enough evidence that Nor's reign would only bring about pain and suffering and the eventual ruin of New Krypton, that he would enslave all who opposed him. There wasn't another option. He was powerless.
He steeled himself.
Kao-zha-aovem-u. Do the most good. Half a dozen to save thousands. Tens of thousands. There wasn't another option.
Forgive me. Kao-zhalish-odh khahp."Terminate the vehicle," said Kal-El, his voice cold and hardened even to his own ears.
Kao-zha-aovem-u. Kao-zha-aovem-u."As it is so ordered," said Jen Mai with a curt nod as he manipulated the map in front of them. He zoomed into the satellite visual, close in on the vehicle, and made a series of keystrokes to engage the drone strike.
Kal-El's entire stomach felt like lead.
Kao-zha-aovem-u. Kao-zha-aovem-u. He didn't let himself close his eyes. He couldn't show that weakness. And he deserved to watch what he was responsible for. This was the only option.
He swallowed again.
Kao-zha-aovem-u. The vehicle exploded before their eyes, the debris and shrapnel—the supplies and people—scattered for miles. They'd gotten so close to the village. Too close. His hesitation might have cost more lives.
He vaguely heard Trey's voice as he announced a successful destruction of the target and congratulated him, assuring him that the other lords of the alliance would be pleased to hear it.
Kal-El nodded stiffly. "I'll be in my quarters. Not to be disturbed for anything less than Level 2 alerts." He didn't wait for a response before he walked out of the room. He just made it to the toilet before he heaved the contents of his stomach and then collapsed to the floor.
Kao-zha-aovem-u.Kao-zhalish-odh khahp.*#*#*#*
Clark could swear he still had the sour taste in the back of his throat. Or maybe that was from now. His eyes slowly swam back into focus, the Kansas highway stretching out before him. He could feel sweat on his brow, and he knew in the back of his mind it shouldn't be there, not with his powers back.
His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror. The wreckage was miles behind them, and his dad was quiet beside him. He'd be horrified if he knew. Disappointed. Disgusted.
The mild tension in the cab of the truck had only increased, and Clark found himself needing to loosen the grip on the steering wheel again. He'd probably left indentations.
"Everyone was fine. No one was hurt," he told Jonathan, though maybe he was trying to convince himself. Absolve himself somehow.
"I'm sure you're right. It looked like it was all handled," Jonathan said.
"And it's not like I could have righted the truck...I mean, I have my powers, but..."
"I know, son. I know," his dad said quietly, putting a hand briefly on Clark's shoulder.
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