From Last Time:
"Why do you not want me to go through your cross examination with you? Have I done something to upset you, sir?" she asked. Her tone was hesitant, but he knew how much courage it took for a relatively junior officer to question her commander-in-chief.
"Absolutely not," he replied. "Enza, I've known you for three years. I trust you and I like you. Nor's lawyer is probably going to frustrate me and make me angry and I need to get used to that. I admire your skill, but I don't really think you can get that kind of reaction out of me. Mar Dov, on the other hand, I don't really like. You're right, he's a great lawyer, but he can irritate me inside of two minutes."
She smiled at him. "I understand, sir."
"Good," he said with a slight nod. "I imagine you have other work to do."
"Yes. I have to prepare some other witnesses. Survivors from Silban."
Clark nodded grimly. He certainly didn't envy her that task. "Then I won't keep you much longer. How's your family?" he asked, changing subjects entirely.
"They're well, sir," she replied.
"Please give them my best," he said.
"Of course, sir," she responded as she stood up. She saluted before retreating from the library.
********
New Stuff:
Lois touched down outside the little town. A small crew was busy digging a well in the middle of the village. Women of all ages walked along the dirt roads, carrying baskets on their heads. They were surrounded by small children, running and playing, glad that the oppressive heat had finally broken by late fall. She approached a middle aged woman in a bright blue dress. "I'm looking for Faria Kalidiatou," Lois said.
The woman pursed her lips and frowned as she stared at the superhero, blinking in seeming disbelief. "At the school," she said at last, pointing toward a small, low slung building in the center of the village.
"Thank you," Lois replied with a smile. She walked toward the school. Inside the single-room building, a thin, elegant young woman stood in front of a blackboard. She was dressed simply, her hair cut very short, and she moved with an effortless, unconscious grace. The room was crowded with small boys and girls, sitting at dilapidated wooden desks, cheerfully following along with the math problems. They looked toward the doorway as Ultrawoman approached. Their faces beamed brightly with little smiles and surprised expressions. Lois gave the class a little wave.
"Ultrawoman!" the students shouted in an enthusiastic chorus. Some started to get up from their desks.
"Children, behave," the teacher said sternly. The students all froze.
"Are you Ms. Kalidiatou?" Lois asked the teacher.
"I am," the young woman replied, a touch of awe in her voice.
"I'm told you have been doing amazing work with these children," Lois replied. "I wanted to see if there is anything I can do to help you."
The teacher shook her head slowly. "You have answered our prayers," she said softly.
Lois pulled out the folded airmail envelope from under her cape and handed it to the teacher. It was addressed to Lois Lane. "I only answered a letter," she replied. The teacher's expression turned into one of wonder as she looked down at the envelope she held in both of her hands. The letter she herself had sent, from a refugee camp, nearly two years earlier. "Lois Lane gave me this letter. You brought the war to her attention and to mine. And I wanted to thank you."
The teacher smiled. "Perhaps you would like to stay for a while. I know it would mean a lot to the children."
"It would be my pleasure," Lois replied. She stayed with the class until the end of their school day about an hour later and hugged each of the children as they left the classroom. Lois helped the teacher straighten up her classroom. Faria told her about how eight members of her own family had been killed during the war, including her husband and their daughter. About how she'd come back to this village only a few months ago, finally feeling like it was safe enough to go home. She told her story with a quiet dignity that suffused her every word and action, but under the surface, Lois could see the fierce courage that allowed this woman to keep functioning, to keep fighting when it seemed like there was nothing left to fight for. Lois felt tears sting her eyes, but blinked them away.
"Why did you come back to teaching?" Lois asked, unconsciously slipping back into reporter-mode, as she finished straightening the rows of desks.
"Many of these children are orphans, they're being raised by their grandparents, or their aunts, or their parents' friends. It is all of our responsibility to take care of them now that their mothers and fathers are gone. The first thing people did when they came back to this village was to rebuild the school. But they still needed a teacher." Faria closed her lesson book and put away the pencils.
Lois put her hand on the other woman's arm, her vision slightly blurry. "You're doing something amazing here. Something most people would never have the strength or courage to do," she said quietly, not fully trusting her voice. "If there is ever anything I can do for you, please let me know. I'll be back soon to check in on the school."
"Thank you," Faria replied in a soft tone.
With a nod and a somewhat forced smile, Ultrawoman departed. There was one more place she had to go today and she needed to take into consideration the time difference. She flew north, crossing the grasslands and deserts until she was flying over the Mediterranean. Turning westward, she touched down on a narrow little street in Strasbourg. She checked the address for the thousandth time before ascending the steps to the townhouse and ringing the buzzer.
She heard the sound of footsteps and a few seconds later, the door opened. "Ultrawoman," he said, his voice devoid of the anger and venom she'd feared might be there. It was devoid of everything – there was no feeling or emotion there at all.
She swallowed around the boulder lodged in her throat. "Dr. Arnault," she managed. She looked at his hand where he gripped the edge of the door. Wrapped around his wrist several times was a strand of small beads, red, yellow, and green – the colors of the Kinwaran flag. It was the necklace Dr. Heller always wore, given to her by a little girl at the MSF camp in Galani years ago.
"Come in," he said, stepping aside to allow her entry. With no small degree of trepidation, she crossed the threshold.
********
"Tell me you've corrected our little personnel problem," Rae Et said dispassionately. She didn't bother to look up from the schematics on the table.
"We have, ma'am," Jen Mai confirmed as he stepped into the dimly lit basement. "It wasn't easy; we had to…"
"I am not interested in the insipid details!" Rae Et snapped. "My son's life hangs in the balance and all I want to know from you is whether or not we have sufficient strength to carry out the plan."
"We do, ma'am, but what I don't understand is *how* we're going to carry it out," Jen Mai ventured hesitantly. "This plan requires a total shut down of major defensive systems, access to the communications network, and the ability to override backup security measures. How can we accomplish all of that?"
"It is none of your concern, Jen Mai; I thought I'd made that perfectly clear. I will handle the logistical details. You just make sure your goons are in position."
"Of course, ma'am," he replied with a bow, even though she hadn't deigned to look at him once since he'd entered the room.
********
Absorbed as she was in her work, she almost didn't notice him approach. Almost. She turned to look at where he was standing in the doorway to the study, a slight frown marring his features. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," he said.
In truth, Enza welcomed the interruption, or she would have, if he didn't look so troubled. Her mind immediately began to catalogue the millions of things that could potentially have been bothering him, but it was much simpler to just ask. "What's wrong?"
He gave her a faint, halfhearted smile. "Nothing," he demurred, or attempted to. He wasn't fooling her.
"You're a terrible liar, love," she said softly as she stood up and walked toward him.
"Am I?" he asked, standing up straight and squaring his shoulders as though he were a bit wounded by the comment. She smiled and nodded as she took both of his hands in hers. "How can you be so sure?" he asked.
"I'm a lawyer, people lie to me as a reflex," she responded. Her husband chuckled softly. "I wouldn't be very good at my job if I didn't know when they were lying and when they weren't."
He followed her into the sitting room, away from her work and its distractions. She sat down on one end of the couch and, still holding his hands, pulled him down to sit beside her. "Tell me what's bothering you, please," she insisted gently.
Lok Sim sighed. "I found something troubling when I was monitoring the security logs. Files that were accessed that shouldn't have been."
"You've told Rab Dun, haven't you?" she asked anxiously.
"Of course," he replied. "Commander Ching has begun looking into it as well, but we haven't been able to find anything else. No other anomalies, no off-log communications. Nothing. It's frustrating. Part of me wants to believe there isn't a problem, but I know that isn't right. There's something here and I can't find it. Perhaps I'm overreacting."
Enza squeezed his hands gently. "Trust your intuition," she said. "Of every single person I interviewed when I was investigating the charges brought against Commander Ching, you were the only one who realized I was working against the inquest."
He grimaced with a rueful shake of his head. "Then I threatened you and accused you of treason."
It was obvious the memory still bothered him even though to her, it was beyond ancient history. "There was no way you could have known that it was the inquest that was committing treason," she assured him. "I'm not sure if there's anything I can do to help, but if there is…"
"We're trying to keep a low profile so that if anyone has infiltrated the system, we don't frighten them off. Calling in the First Ministers' lawyer might not be the most subtle way to go, but thank you."
He certainly had a point. She looked up at her husband. As soon as their eyes met, they were leaning toward one another. His lips merely brushed against hers as he threaded his hand through her hair. He sighed softly and they shared another gentle kiss, as though they both recognized there would be time enough for passion later. "Lie down," she whispered quietly. Enza leaned back as her husband obligingly stretched out across the couch, laying his head in her lap. He looked up at her with his green eyes full of warmth – eyes that never failed to captivate her, to draw her in, and remind her of all of the reasons why she loved him. She regarded him silently. The man who knew all of her, who had seen her at her worst, and still loved her.
"I love you," he said softly as she ran her fingers through his hair. She took his hand in hers.
"I love you so much," she murmured in response. "More than I ever thought possible. I love that you're an unrepentant idealist," Enza said as she raised his hand to her lips and kissed the tip of his thumb.
He smiled up at her. "Are you claiming that you aren't one?" he teased gently.
"Shhh," she chided him with a smile. "What I am is irrelevant. We're making a list of things I love about you. You're the kindest man I've ever met. You're an enchanting storyteller. And a terrible liar." She counted off each point on his fingers, kissing the tip of each one.
"You love that I'm a terrible liar?" he asked, laughing softly.
Enza merely nodded. "You love Thia as though she were your own daughter, and you make sure that she knows it," she continued. "And you are the most wonderful husband." Having run out of fingers, she leaned down and kissed his lips. "You are my tower of gentle strength. Patient. Understanding. Supportive. You showed me what it means to love like you have nothing to fear."
Lok Sim sat up and caressed her cheek before covering her lips with his. She let him sweep her up in his arms, amazed and humbled that a man as wonderful as he was would love her, would choose to spend his life with her. "Thank you," he whispered as he kissed her forehead tenderly.
"For what?" she asked.
"For everything you do that makes me feel so good. For understanding, even the things I can't explain. For making me feel complete," he answered. "And completely loved."
********
Ultrawoman's bright colors contrasted sharply with the dark evening gowns and tuxedos worn by all of the guests in the Oslo City Hall. The host finished his longwinded introduction of her and she stood up and approached the podium. She accepted the velvet box he held out to her, containing the gold Nobel medal. Lois stepped up to the podium and the microphone and looked out at the gathered diplomats, heads of state, reporters and previous recipients. Her eyes settled on the cluster of Canadian guests near the front of the assembly. Ambassador Dalton and General Rapin, in his full dress uniform, looked up at her, clapping warmly. A sea of flashbulbs went off in waves.
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice unheard over the sounds of applause. "Thank you," she repeated more loudly. "Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Honorable Members of the Norwegian Nobel Committee, Excellencies, Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you very much." She looked around at the packed hall. The king of Norway and half of the parliament were present. Perry was there as well, as her guest. From the back of the room, she could see him smile and give her the 'thumbs up.'
"This is a great honor, but I'm afraid I cannot accept it. At least not on my own behalf. This prize was established to recognize those who have contributed the most to the advancement of the cause of peace in our world. I am humbled and honored to have been chosen as this year's recipient, but in truth, there are many people more deserving than I who should be recognized with this award. I am thankful that this award will bring more attention to the situation in Kinwara, and the crimes committed there, as well as the tireless and courageous efforts of relief workers still struggling to provide security and assistance to the people of that country.
"This award belongs to the people who have risked so much and in many cases, sacrificed so much, to protect others. It belongs to the peacekeepers serving under General Jean Georges Rapin, and the UNICEF aid workers. It belongs to the Red Cross volunteers and the doctors of MSF. To Faria Kalidiatou, the young teacher who first brought the conflict to my attention, and who, having lost her own family in the war, still has the courage and the strength to help care for Kinwara's orphans.
"This award belongs to Dr. Ingrid Heller, who gave her life protecting the innocent. Dr. Heller served without regard to her own comfort or safety, putting the lives of others before hers. She served their needs while ignoring her own. Dr. Heller was selfless, decent, and compassionate. She loved Kinwara and its people. She was a great humanitarian and she was my friend. I am a better person today because I knew her, because I learned from her." Lois looked out at the audience, wishing Dr. Arnault had accepted her invitation.
"I hope that this prize will keep Dr. Heller in our memories, that we will never forget the sacrifices made by her and by hundreds of other people – seemingly ordinary people – who have done extraordinary things in the service of their fellow men. They remind us that heroism isn't about having tremendous power – it is about using the power you do have to do good. In the shadow of their towering heroism, the rest of us have had our humanity measured, and found wanting. Ladies and gentlemen, we have not done enough. This world cried out for us and we turned away. We averted our eyes and stopped up our ears and pretended that what happened in Kinwara was not our concern. Or we assured ourselves that we were doing our part and there was nothing more we could do. We equivocated, we hesitated, we tolerated the intolerable and innocent people died.
"But while we did not live up to our promises of 'never again,' we do not have to live with these failures as our only monument. We can and we must do better. We must not forget the victims of this war. We must not pretend to be blind and deaf to their plight. We cannot afford to act like the value of a human life is determined by geography. There is still much work that needs to be done in Kinwara and in other, oft-ignored corners of this Earth. Please, I implore you, do not let yourselves grow complacent. Do not assume that great tragedies are unpreventable or not your concern. We are all responsible for ensuring these unspeakable crimes never happen again, and that those who suffer in silence, far away from the rest of us, in our comfortable homes, and safe routines, are not forgotten." She stepped away from the podium, practically blinded by the hundreds of bright camera flashes.
********
"Busy day, sir?" Ching asked as they walked through the administrative compound.
"Incredibly," Clark replied. "But I've got a free hour this afternoon. Up for sparring?"
"I haven't been able to best you in a sparring match in years. Can I suggest another partner? I understand Lok Sim is quite the expert with the quarterstaff."
Clark smiled and shook his head. "That boy is a giant; you just want to see him beat me up."
"I'll find out if he's free, sir," Ching replied. With a polite bow, he departed.
Two hours later, Clark found himself facing off against the communications engineer in the gymnasium. He flexed his grip on the quarterstaff as he paced around the outer edge of the mat, wondering what the heck he'd gotten himself into. Lok Sim initiated his attack. He moved slowly, his strikes refrained. "Don't pull your punches with me, Sergeant," Clark cautioned sternly.
"I'm not on active duty any more, sir," the young man replied.
"I can still have you fired," Clark said as he counter attacked.
Lok Sim repelled the attack easily, pushing Clark away as though he were a gnat. Clark stumbled backwards before regaining his bearings. "Enza warned me against giving you a concussion a week before she puts you on the stand."
"Are you going to listen to her or me?" Clark replied as he circled his opponent again.
"I make it a point never to argue with lawyers, sir," Lok Sim responded, launching another attack.
"Wise policy," Clark gritted out as he blocked the strike. Lok Sim countered with a rapid combination. Clark struggled to parry the flurry of blows. He stepped back as he tried to keep up his defense, but eventually, he lost his balance. Lok Sim took advantage of the situation to sweep Clark's feet out from under him. He fell back on the mat and took the other man's promptly outstretched hand. Lok Sim helped him back to his feet. "How does she feel about the trial?" Clark asked.
"She's confident in her witnesses," the engineer replied. "But she's still nervous. This is the biggest case she's ever had to try."
"Your wife is a terrific lawyer," Clark replied. "She's going to do fine."
Lok Sim gave him a small, knowing smile. "I know," he said softly.
********
"Do you stock this stuff in all of your embassies?" she asked as she arched a skeptical brow at the glass of rye he handed her.
"Who else do you think buys it?" Dalton replied. His tone was gruff, but she could see the mercurial glint in his eyes. "Some of the less fun countries give us grief about having it shipped in, but no one's been willing to start an international incident over it." The old diplomat unknotted his bowtie and seemed relieved to be able to undo the top button of his tuxedo shirt. He settled on the large leather couch.
The reception room of the Canadian embassy in Norway was exactly as she expected it to be – spacious, comfortable, and well-appointed with leather couches and wingbacked chairs and dark wood bookcases, tables, and cabinets. It was elegant, but understated. Canadians, after all, would be the last people on Earth to have a bombastic looking embassy. She leaned back in her overstuffed chair as she looked up at the oil paintings on the wall. They were the products of lesser known masters of the Romantic period, and the subjects, as best she could determine, were the characters and events of old Norse legends.
"To you," Dalton said as he lifted his rocks glass.
"To the aid workers," Ultrawoman replied, lifting her glass in a toast as well.
"To the aid workers" he agreed. He took a sip of his rye. "Feeling any better about the Peace Prize?"
"No," she replied honestly.
Dalton smiled and chuckled to himself. "That," he said, holding up one finger. "That is precisely what I admire most about you. Your greatest superpower is your ability to remain pissed off."
"Dalton, didn't anyone ever tell you that Canadians were supposed to be nice, polite, and likeable?" she groused.
He leaned forward, his glass held between both hands. "The first time this job forced me to compromise my ethics for a worthy cause, it made me sick. Literally sick. I ran off to the little diplomats' room and promptly lost my lunch, ruining the tie my wife had given me for our first anniversary. I loved that tie." He gestured with his glass, as though to emphasize the point. She smiled in response.
"The second time I was asked to do the same thing—give up my idealism in order to get the result we needed—I felt nauseated, but I told myself it would pass, and eventually, it did. Third time, I experienced the briefest twinge of regret, and barely noticed it. Now, it doesn't even register. But every time we ask you to make one of our devil's bargains, you blow your top, yell at us, and remind us just how despicable it all is. The rest of us will barter away our integrity for the slightest advantage, because that's all its worth. You won't. The game still pisses you off. You won't play it unless you have no other choice. And that makes you a hell of a lot better than the rest of us."
She smiled and shook her head as she took a sip of her rye. "So that's your fancy diplomat's way of congratulating me for being slightly less immoral than the rest of you, huh?"
He laughed but didn't respond and merely lifted his glass of rye again. "To still getting pissed off."
She leaned forward to clink her glass with his. "To still getting pissed off," she repeated.
********
Clark sighed and tried to keep from rolling his eyes in exasperation. He hated this. He hated going over the story, again and again and again. He was tired of the questions and the verbal poking and prodding. Mar Dov looked up from his digital tablet. "Very good, sir," he said. "I think we've covered everything we need to."
"We're done?" Clark asked incredulously.
"Indeed, sir. You should get some rest tonight, clear you mind." The old lawyer stared straight ahead with his fierce, dark eyes as he folded his hands in front of himself. "I'm confident you will be fine. Enza will handle your direct examination."
"Good," Clark replied. "Thank you, Mar Dov, for all of your work on this trial. I know how much of your time you've dedicated to seeing justice done."
Mar Dov's lip turned upward in a stiff smile. "Think nothing of it, sir. It is my job," he said. Mar Dov stood up. "Have a good night, sir. We will speak in the morning before you testify."
Clark exited the library just after the lawyer. He headed back to his small room. The First Ministers' quarters were deserted – Zara would still be in meetings for several more hours. He opened the small metal box Tao Scion had given him and removed one of the spheres. The globe began to glow warmly at his touch, the image of his birth parents and his sister came to life in front of him. Clark watched silently, reverently, as the happiest times in their lives unfolded, drawn out like a narrative. He was going to finish the work that they had started. He was going to do his best to secure a hopeful future for this planet and its people. "I want to make you proud," he whispered.
********
"Do you have to go to court tomorrow?" Thia asked as she climbed into bed. Enza tucked the covers in around her niece.
"I do," she confirmed.
"Why?"
Enza knelt beside the bed. "Kal El and I are going to talk to the judges about some of the things that happened during the war," she replied, trying to keep her explanation on a level that the little girl could understand. More than that, she wanted to keep the details out of it, to protect her niece from the frightening and confusing truth.
Thia looked at her with wide green eyes. "Is this why you were working so much?"
Enza smoothed away a few errant strands of hair from Thia's face. "It is," she replied. "The judges and other lawyers are going to ask Kal El lots of questions, and we had to make sure we were ready so he can answer all those questions and make sure the judges know everything they need to know."
"Are the bad men going to be in court with you?" Her niece looked up at her with wide eyes full of fear.
She frowned as she tried to figure out how to answer her. "Yes," Enza admitted at last. "But they can't hurt anyone anymore."
"Do you promise?" Thia asked plaintively.
"I promise," Enza vowed, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "We're going to talk to the judges and they're going to put the bad men in prison, where they won't be able to hurt anyone."
Thia nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. It humbled Enza to know how much the little girl trusted her aunt to keep her safe. "Does that mean you'll be home more now?"
Enza's heart broke at the cautiously hopeful sound of Thia's voice. She covered her niece's tiny hand with her own. "It will be just a few more weeks, little one. Then I won't have to work so much."
Thia gave her a small smile. "I'm glad," she said simply.
"Me, too," Enza replied. She kissed the little girl's forehead. "Goodnight. I love you."
"I love you, too," Thia replied with a sleepy yawn. Enza stood up and silently walked toward the door, turning off the light as she exited the room.
Her husband was waiting for her in the hallway. He draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart, feeling his body rise and fall slowly with each breath. He let his cheek rest against the top of her head. "Nervous?" he asked quietly.
"Terrified," she confirmed.
"You'll be fine," he replied. He ran a soothing hand up and down her back. "You're a brilliant lawyer and you're ready for this."
"I hope so," she murmured.
"You just need to relax," he said as he tilted her chin up and bent down to kiss her. His hand lingered against her cheek and as he broke off the kiss, he let his thumb trace the outline of her bottom lip.
Enza smiled at him. The look in his eyes was one of pure tenderness: warm, gentle, and protective, just like he was. He was the kindest man she'd ever known. He kissed her again, threading his hand in her hair. She sighed softly against his lips and slipped her hand into his much larger one, knotting her fingers through his. Wordlessly, they walked hand in hand into their darkened bedroom.
********
"I thought I'd find you here," she said as she walked toward him.
Clark smiled faintly. "Am I that predictable?"
"You have your habits," Talan replied. "You always seem to come down here when you want to think." She looked out at the docking bay and the night crew at work.
"I've had a lot of thinking to do recently," Clark said.
"Would you rather be alone, sir?" she asked.
"No," he said with a shake of his head. "I think I could do with the company."
She stood beside him under the causeway, looking at the craft docked in the bays and the crews at work. "Anxious about tomorrow?"
"You know it," he replied as he folded his arms across his chest.
"You'll be fine, sir," she said confidently. They must have been an odd sight, he imagined. Stern and somber looking, they surveyed the docking bay, taking in the well orchestrated commotion.
"I didn't know you were back. How long will you be here?"
"Just a few days, sir," she replied with a nod.
He smiled inwardly. She'd taken a few days away from her responsibilities, which just happened to coincide with his testimony at the trial. Clark doubted she would admit that she'd come halfway across the planet just to provide moral support to a friend. "This doesn't make much sense, does it? I'm practically panicking and he's the one on trial."
"Sir, what you're doing takes real courage," she said, with no hint of disingenuousness in her tone.
"I'm just going to be answering a few questions," he replied. "I'm not going to be saving a settlement, or retaking a hill, Commander."
Talan turned to face him. "Courage takes different forms, sir. Sometimes the hardest thing we have to do is to face what we most want to forget." He knew that she believed what she was saying. She wasn't merely patronizing him. It made sense, he supposed. She'd admitted in the past that she didn't deal with the things she'd done. Instead, she'd learned to divorce herself from them. But apparently that nifty trick didn't work anymore, and she, too, was being forced to come to terms with things that seemed better left forgotten.
They could no more deny the things they'd been through and the things they'd done than they could deny who they were. You couldn't outrun the past forever; it always found a way of catching up to you.
