This story takes place in an Elseworld setting. There have been numerous alterations to the plot and timeline. Here are a few points:
This is an alternative world story and as such Lex Luthor won't behave the same as the character we are familiar with. Lex is still ambitious, driven, and power hungry, his criminal activities are not as vast as portrayed in the series. He does possess a heart, one that can be affected, perhaps even broken. He has a new assistant after Nigel St. John departs. Beyond a good sense of fashion, the mysterious Aykira Hallick is *nothing* like Mrs. Cox.
Keep Michael Landes in mind whenever Jimmy Olsen makes an appearance. I always preferred his interpretation of the cub reporter as opposed to Justin Whalin’s. Michael’s Jimmy was more on equal terms with the other characters and not a glorified gofer.
Cat Grant’s character provided female balance and a worthy opponent for Lois in a few precious scenes that were attempted. (The episode Witness is an excellent example.) Sadly, with the beginning of season two, cast changes were made and her abrupt departure was never explained. Here is an endeavor to allow her a more graceful exit.
Lois’ lack of talent in the kitchen is a sore point for her. After bearing up under countless digs from the likes of Bobby Bigmouth, she is determined to change! With a little assistance from Uncle Mike, Mad Dog Lane makes decent attempts at understanding the culinary arts.
It always strikes me how seldom Lois and Clark seem to relate with other people outside of the usual suspects. In the series, we only know about Inspector Bill Henderson, Ralph the creep and dear Dr. Klein. However, what about other characters like Diane the reporter who made two very brief appearances, Clark’s landlady or Lois’ Uncle Mike? In this work, we get to see Lois and Clark interact with these characters and other folks who might occupy their lives. I hope that filling out these characters will not bog the narrative down, but provide a more colorful canvas to tell a story.
Quickly I need to acknowledge the help, encouragement and patience of my Betas: Andreia, Corrina, Janet, Jenni, Terry, Erin and last but most definitely not least Anti-Kryptonite. Without their help this story would never have been posted, much less finished. Thanks to one and all!
Now, let’s see what kind of trouble an egg salad sandwich can get our two favorite investigative reporters into!
All characters, settings and some dialogue are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros., and whoever else can legally lay claim to them. No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. This story was written for the joy of playing in the Lois and Clark universe, not for profit, but the story is an original idea and it is mine.
A Stranger in our Midst
Part One
Rain. Rain. Rain. A relentless downpour hurtled from the heavens, through the early spring evening, saturating everything in its wake. Metropolis’ majestic skyscrapers were the first to be pummeled, water sliding effortlessly down slick facades. Next, it tumbled down the facades of industrial warehouses, the liquid moving not quite so smoothly over ancient brick and mortar, the building walls pock worn from decades of rain and exposure. Finally, pelting over restored upscale brownstones; residences of the city’s rich, not so rich, famous and quietly infamous. Far below the building rooftops, fleeing citizenry tried numerous methods to avoid getting sodden. Some clutched recalcitrant umbrellas, others wore hats, either brimming with water or completely soaked; a few grateful souls managed to hail a cab, not without getting a little damp.
Such was a typical rainy spring evening in Metropolis. In one particular alleyway, two of those citizens sat waiting impatiently. After a long day toiling at the Daily Planet, its best investigative reporter team, Lane and Kent, had planned on heading to their separate comfortable and dry abodes. Clark and some workmates looked forward to watching a much-anticipated basketball game. Lois also looked forward to a well-deserved quiet evening at home. But such was not to be the case; instead they sat in Lois’ silver Jeep Grand Cherokee in slightly damp trench coats, keenly aware of the scent of food for their source, Bobby Bigmouth.
Notwithstanding the downpour and gloominess outside, both reporters worked hard to keep their moods light, the newsroom day had been long and taxing. Thus, they were in danger of taking work stress out on one another. To top everything off the insistent pounding of raindrops on the car’s metal rooftop only reinforced the desire to be home. The beautiful brown-haired woman sitting in the driver’s seat felt a wicked head cold coming on, she thought once more about the delightful chicken aroma assaulting her nostrils. <If that man does not show up soon with *Kerth* level information his dinner is ours!> She thought furiously.
“Clark,” Lois babbled irritably, “I cannot believe we are stuck in a clammy, dark alley behind Callard’s during a downpour! Bobby’s information had better be good! I was planning on watching two week’s worth of my favorite show.” She sighed and dropped her chin to her chest than added, “Next time I decide to take an ‘urgent’ phone call at quitting time, *please* stop me.”
“Yeah,” Clark empathized. “Perry, Jimmy, and Eduardo are at my apartment watching the Metros go against the Denver Nuggets. Bobby has a knack for meeting in out- of-the-way places, despite the weather, but his information is always reliable. Hey, I thought he was mad at us. Oh, that’s right,” he smiled mischievously. “It was *you*. Wasn’t there something about the absence of any real food in your kitchen?”
Lois’ features turned pouty, her prickles were coming out. “There may not be any food in my house, but we, partner, *always*, provide good food for our best snitch – er - source.”
Suddenly a familiar head popped up from the back of Lois’ Jeep. The ever-famished, self-proclaimed street epicurean Bobby Bigmouth had arrived.
“Greetings, Clark… Lois. Good tips are how I keep myself fed. Do I smell Chicken Marsala…with shitake mushrooms?”
Lois gasped, hand clutched to her chest. “Bobby! I wish you would stop doing that!”
Clark smiled and completed the menu. “With creamy cheese broccoli and wild rice for sides dishes, as you requested. Good to see you too, Bobby.”
He handed over the informant’s dinner.
Reaching into the brown sack, Bobby quickly pulled out the savory contents and began eating. Between large forkfuls of food and smacking sounds, he proceeded to do what he did second best…talk.
“Mmm, those mushrooms really bring out the flavor! Kent, you got this, ‘cause, your partner here doesn’t know a Shitake mushroom from a Portobello.”
“Bobby, enough with the frustrated food critic routine! This rain isn’t getting any lighter and the basketball game isn’t waiting for me. Spill whatever news you have.”
“Take it easy, Kent, I’m delighting in the flavors…wait a second. Do I smell fresh, warm cinnamon rolls?”
Lois triumphantly held up another sack, this one a crisp bakery white, stenciled with the lettering Mike’s Americana Cafe. She dangled it before the snitch. “Like the man said, spill!”
His face twisted between desire for the cinnamon roll and annoyance at the female reporter.
Since his accelerated metabolism cried out for satisfaction, Bobby spilled. “Word on the street is a shipment of new technology, something called industrial harmonic crystals is coming in from Leeds, England. They’re supposed to be docking in Metropolis Harbor’s pier 17 tonight onboard a freighter called Shackleton. Only they ain’t gonna arrive at their proper *final* destination onboard Project Prometheus 2. The big *detour* is for Luthor Industries in general and LexSolar in particular.”
Clark let out a low whistle. But his partner had a puzzled expression on her face.
“Okay Clark, obviously these crystals are familiar to you. Care to fill me in?”
“There have been whispers about those crystals within the solar energy community. Supposedly they are ten times more powerful then nuclear energy, but much more stable and *not* radioactive. EPRAD needs them to power its new space station, Prometheus 2. The original station, or Prometheus 1, started with medical and chemical laboratories.”
“I get it, P2 is the next step!” Lois piped up.
“Exactly! The second station expands on that idea: microchip-processing factory, solar panel fabrication, hydroponic farming, and a host of other industries. Effectively allowing the space colony to be self-sustaining and build on future expansion projects.”
Lois interjected, “Isn’t there discussion within EPRAD about this P2 as a jumping-off point for future Mars expeditions?”
Clark nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, but without those crystals the entire space station program gets pushed back at least two years. Luthor’s only serious rival is stopped cold. Lexcorp would have a firm grip on all future space industries.”
Bobby wiped his mouth with the back of a sauce-stained hand. “Yup, Luthor gets the crystals for his space station. Year and a half ago his plans literally went up in the air with the big guy taking the final module of the original station into orbit. This year he’s coming back with a plan to get his own station positioned.”
Bobby whined. “Uh, Come on Lois, how about that Cinnamon roll?”
“Sorry, not so fast!” Lois snapped, holding the bakery bag close. “Where is this industrial-strength heist going to take place?”
“Do I look like a guy who goes around planning ship hijackings?” Bobby asked. “The Shackleton is supposed to dock at Pier Seventeen tonight. Maybe some action will happen after the docking or maybe while transporting the stuff to the space agency. Ask Luthor, or better yet, whoever he’s hiring to do that job.”
The snitch’s fingers wiggled. “Okay, gimme the cinnamon roll!”
Rolling her brown eyes, she tossed the bakery bag over the seat. “Those were a special treat from my Uncle Mike. Eat them with respect.”
”Oh, I will. I will. Look, I gotta get back to work. Just so you know, Kent, I was mad at your partner here.” Bobby said, jerking his thumb in Lois’s direction. “She should be ashamed of her kitchen; not even a box of crackers. Somebody ought to give this girl cooking lessons. Nothin’ fancy, just your basic kitchen survival skills. But after what happened to me earlier today, this hot stuff had to go to you guys, instead of that hack reporter who tried paying for prime information with an egg salad sandwich.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Clark asked bemused.
“The egg salad was rotten, that’s what!” The man snorted. “I have my stomach to think about.”
The two reporters exchanged surprised looks. Who was dumb enough to stiff Bobby? The reliability of his information was so consistent Lois’ last Kerth award exposing a Columbian drug cartel’s trade route had come from intel he provided. Clark spoke first. “Okay. How about telling us who it is?”
“Nope, he might have stiffed me, but I got to protect my sources.”
“Well, never let it be said Bobby Bigmouth doesn’t have high standards.” Lois muttered sarcastically.
“Hey, watch it, Lane. I do have standards. By the way, not that I don’t respect your Uncle Mike’s baking chops, but his cinnamon rolls, have w-a-a-ay too much cinnamon.”
“That does it, out!” Lois shouted.
Bobby sniffed, “I was only offering a little constructive criticism.”
On that note, the snitch departed into the rainy evening leaving Lois and Clark light on their evening meal and heavy on a mystery.
“Partner, it looks to me like a stakeout at Metropolis Harbor is in order,” Clark said. “I’ll call Perry and tell them what we’re doing.” He sighed. “So much for a great basketball game. I hope those people leave me some chips! Hey, maybe your Uncle Mike can give us another dinner?”
“No,” she answered. “It’s the middle of the dinner rush and I would hate to tell him what we used that food for. How ‘bout splitting a pizza… or maybe Chinese? I could go for some tri-pepper chicken. Just as long as it is *not* from that dump, The Green Dragon!” She shuddered, remembering the last time they ordered from there.
Clark bestowed a wry smile on his partner. “You got it. Pizza it is. Stay here where it warm and dry. I’ll be back in a minute. Antonio’s is right down the block.”
Lois watched Clark’s retreating athletic form as he got out of the jeep and swiftly ran through the downpour. <What a great partner; he goes on last-minute snitch runs, helps on a stake out and gets take out. By combining our abilities, who knows, maybe this will be the ‘Pulitzer’ year.> “Besides, Cat’s right,” she murmured out loud. “He does have a tight end... but he’s *no* Superman!”
****
Two hours later, Lois and Clark were still sitting in the jeep, only now they were located at Metropolis Harbor’s pier Seventeen. The half-eaten sausage and pepperoni pizza sat in the back seat among the other remnants of their meal. Heavy night-vision 2.5 x 42mm Black Monocular Zeiss binoculars trained to her eyes, Lois intently scanned the area. The usual denizens of the old harbor were safely indoors away from the intermittent rain. Absently rubbing her nose, she felt the warning tickle of a sneeze coming on.
“It never ceases to amaze me what comes out of that purse.” Clark said, shaking his head. “How many people just ‘carry around’ a pair of high-powered binoculars?”
Sighing deeply, Lois launched into babble mode without taking her eyes off the ship, “For the hundredth time, it’s a *briefcase*, not a purse. Purses are for reporters like Cat and Diane, not *investigative* reporters. We have to be prepared for nights like this! Carry around our tools-of-the-trade. Besides, the binoculars were in my desk until Bobby called! So, Kent, keep your eyes on that ship!”
***
Her partner’s chocolate brown eyes watched as well; his x-ray vision searched the ship’s interior, revealing nothing. The dark outline of the massive ocean-going freighter Shackleton stood majestically in the water. His meticulous scan revealed no human activity, either legitimate or otherwise. No movement anywhere on the cramped deck, covered as it was with a multitude of shipping containers. He wondered to himself. Was it possible Bobby’s intel really did come up dry?
***
“First a back alley, now harbor patrol. Who knows where the rest of this night will lead?” Before she could stifle a sneeze, it escaped. “Achoo!” Lois sneezed. “To a head cold?” She grumbled.
“Some Oolong tea would help move that along.”
“Thanks, Clark. As soon as this stakeout ends, I’m grabbing a pot of the stuff. I should be watching my show right now.”
“Oh, what show is that?” Clark asked, his eyes smiling mischievously.
“Uh, it’s a nature show; about big cats in the African wild.” Lois sank deeper into her seat and mentally crossed her fingers. The last thing Clark needed to know about was her addiction to the popular soap opera The Ivory Tower. Changing the subject she said, “Jimmy, Eduardo, and Perry are still at your apartment?”
“Yeah,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Hopefully the guys are enjoying fourth quarter of the best series in the NBA playoffs.”
“Don’t worry Clark, maybe there’s a Kerth - or maybe even a Pulitzer in it for us. That should make up for any old basketball game.”
“Or a nature show?” Clark said teasingly.
Lois looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, they are big cats!” Her face scrunched up again as she sneezed.
“Okay, that’s it, let’s call it a night,” Clark said. “You are catching a head cold, which is not going to help either of us.”
“Come on, Farmboy; a little cold is not going to stop me. We stay ten more minutes.”
“Okay, ten minutes, no more, then you are going home to a hot bath, tea and, ah, your nature show,“ Clark said while trying to stifle a laugh.
<Drat!> she thought. <He *does* know about The Ivory Tower! No, he couldn’t - that’s perfect revenge gossip material for use at the Planet.> Still her partner was not the chatty water cooler type, at least, not about their relationship outside of the Daily Planet’s newsroom.
<Ah yes… their relationship or lack thereof. Where did she and Clark stand?>
Of course, they were partners and best friends, but every time they wanted to move a little further along; someone, something, or some story got in the way. There was also Superman; the mysterious Kryptonian had set himself as a symbol of all that is good and decent. In her work as an investigative reporter, consistently digging into society’s underbelly, she appreciated his battle for justice and truth.
It was comforting to have him on the same side and yes even acknowledge her strong attraction to him. However, Clark Kent, the approachable Earthman, should be her first consideration. As much as she wanted, no, *needed* to talk with him, their timing was never right.
Mentally, pulling herself up, Lois sighed. <Stop it, Lane! That man is the best friend you ever had. Getting into a deeper relationship with him is begging for yet another federal disaster. Remember Claude.>
***
Clark continued looking out the window, studying the Shackleton, but he felt Lois’ body tense as if readying herself for a conversation. One, because of his deep rooted fears of discovery, he had been avoiding for months. Where was this working partnership of theirs headed? Anyone could see the chemistry between them; their articles were so seamless it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. She was sensitive to his moods and thoughts. They had even gotten to the point of finishing one another’s sentences.
However, it was not their working relationship in question here, but a greater commitment as a man extremely attracted to one fantastic woman. He had close relationships with his friends, like Dr. Pete Ross, Bruce Wayne and the people at the Daily Planet. Lana Lang was the closest he had ever come to a real girlfriend. Although both of them knew their personalities were ill suited for each other.
His attraction and feelings for Lois were *different* - more mature. He sensed she felt the same. Both of them wanted so much more, but neither of them could muster the courage to say the scary words.
Of course, there was the third person in the relationship: a Kryptonian, Kal-El, son of Jor-El, aka Superman. He was betting if Lois knew the truth about him she would be livid for keeping it a secret, perhaps angry enough to end the relationship they did have.
That frightened him more than anything did.
***
Another loud sneeze brought Clark out of his reverie. “Okay, that’s it,” he said. “I cannot work with a sick partner. Tonight was a bust. We’ll probably have to tackle this whole harmonic crystal thing from another angle.”
“Oh, Clark, stop being a killjoy. Bobby’s information is never wrong! Something is going to happen tonight! If Superman were here he’d scour that ship with his x-ray vision and tell us if anything crooked was happening onboard.”
“Well, he’s not here and you are getting worse. Besides the ten minutes are up, time for Miss Lane to go home.”
“Okay. You win, but I need to make a pit stop.”
He was grateful that she was listening to him, especially because the look Clark gave her meant he would brook no argument. She looked more than tired. The slow stiffness in her limbs seemed to him *achy*. He was thankful to see her fire up the jeep and head through the fog and rain out of Pier 17 and to the Harbor Master’s office.
If only the two reporters had delayed their departure for thirty minutes more. Clark would have heard the sound of a mini-sub’s engine underwater.
***
Fifty blocks uptown and high atop the LexCorp tower, the third-richest man in the world stood at his balcony window overlooking the rain-soaked city with satisfaction. If all his plans went accordingly, tonight would be the first step towards Space station Lex becoming the highest manmade object in the heavens.
His memories drifted back to his parents and their lives in Mulberry Gardens, which was now known as Suicide Slum. His Father, a tall reserved man with a quiet sense of humor grew old long before his time working hard on the docks to provide for his son. His Mother, a gentle beautiful woman with a sharp mind, always told him he was destined for better things. In the end, they died penniless, their funeral attended to by only a tiny handful of mourners. Their bodies lay in a disgusting pauper’s field just outside of Metropolis.
He remembered vowing to rise above the squalor and immense poverty of his youth, he worked hard, but was not above cutting corners and paying bribes to anyone who could advance him. Sometimes he pondered if his parents would be proud of him. Would they consider a Space Station spinning through dark emptiness a fitting monument to their struggles?
He nodded slowly, as if to push away the cobwebs of old memories. The time had come to move onto the remaining tasks for the evening. Despite the dull pain of another mild headache, he went inside toward his antique desk, flipping on the intercom.
“Can you come in for a moment, Ms. Hallick?”
A gentle voice responded over the intercom. “Yes, sir.”
Lex Luthor mused about his resourceful assistant and occasional media liaison, Aykira Hallick, Nigel St. John’s replacement. The former major domo had decided life as Lex’s assistant no longer held any appeal and decided to retire permanently in Zurich, Switzerland.
Mrs. Cox was the natural choice, but she could never be the bodyguard and assistant she once was. After recovering from multiple injuries due to a serious automobile accident while on vacation in Buenos Aires, working for him in that capacity was impossible.
So after sending Mrs. Cox stargazer lilies, paying for all her medical expenses and providing a generous separation package Lex was forced to hire a personal assistant from within LexCorp who could orchestrate his legitimate day-to-day activities. The H.R. department provided several internal candidates, but Ms. Hallick’s recommendations were exceptional. Her unusual skill set such as event planning, finance and a strong background on microprocessor science made her a desirable candidate. It was her ability in long-range event planning that helped make the White Orchid Ball, an affair so successful, many in Metropolis’ elite social circles still discussed two years later. The Ball was the first major task he’d assigned Aykira, the first of many she would handle with efficiency and style.
With immense pleasure, Lex’s mind traveled back to their first meeting. On the day of her interview, Ms. Hallick had arrived fifteen minutes early wearing light make-up, tasteful jewelry, an Anne Klein II grey suit and bearing a briefcase containing her research on the position as Lex Luthor’s new assistant. Such efficient preparation appealed to his organized nature. The H.R. department had informed her a high-ranking LexCorp executive would meet with her. However, Lex Luthor himself conducted the final interview, expecting to catch her off guard. There were two elusive qualities, which struck him about this prospective employee: one was her innate gentleness and poise, the other: she seemed like the kind of woman who took genuine care of people around her without getting too close to them. Such an ability intrigued Lex; he wanted to know more about her.
He sketched brief scenarios about a day working for him. She fielded each circumstance with practiced ease; he could see her confidence grow with each correct response. He decided to create a situation designed to throw her off balance.
“Ms. Hallick, you have fulfilled my expectations admirably. All scenarios were answered satisfactorily.” He smiled smoothly, his black eyes dancing. “There is just one more.” Gesturing towards a Tiffany crystal pitcher containing lemon ice water and elegantly cut glasses perched atop a coffee table, he said; “Before asking, might I offer some refreshment? We’ve been conversing for quite some time.”
She arched a finely formed eyebrow, “Nothing for me, thank you. Please, what is your scenario?”
Lex stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the antique weapons display. He picked up the sword of Alexander the Great, caressed it, then turned towards the candidate, his eyes radiant with intensity. “Not so much a scenario as a question of character. Loyalty. Ms. Hallick. Loyalty. Alexander’s generals remained steadfast with him throughout his lightning swift conquests toward India. No matter what the obstacles they stood by him and forged ahead.”
“I expect loyalty of all my employees; from my executive board members, personal staff, and most definitely my personal assistant. No matter whom, he or she, as the case might be, it is a matter of respect.”
Holding out the sword to her, Lex waited for an answer. The antique-filled room fairly crackled with tension. A new battle for this century was taking place, not a battle of sword and sinew, but one of hearts and steel-forged wills.
Aykira Hallick’s cool hazel eyes glazed unflinchingly at the billionaire and the ancient weapon in his grasp. Gently she caressed the flat of the blade with her slender brown fingertips, then spoke. “Loyalty is a commitment, one to stand by, short of breaking the law. He broke his own law by drinking.. It was during a drunken rage that he killed a man named Clitus one of his closest companions.”
“Mr. Luthor,” she continued, “since we are speaking of Alexander the Great, it was a fact he approached all of his military campaigns with the utmost care and back by the greatest army of its time. I came to this interview after intensive study of yourself and the corporation… armed and ready to work.”
Lex smiled again, but this time it did not reach his obsidian eyes. He felt strangely fascinated by this woman. She was not afraid of him. His wealth, connections, and power were of no consequence. A woman of such caliber was rare, indeed, and should make the perfect personal assistant and perhaps more.
The tense moment passed when Lex bestowed upon her a charming smile and extended his hand. “Miss Hallick, I have no further questions. It is my distinct pleasure to welcome you to LexCorp’s executive suite.”
She responded with an equally beautiful smile. “Thank you Mr. Luthor.”
As the weeks and months passed, Lex Luthor grew to depend on Ms. Hallick’s observations in both business and personal matters. With her organizational abilities and gentle manner, LexCorp’s Executive Suite ran with an easy efficiency never seen before. Definitely more so than Angelica Cox’s stress-filled tenure at the executive administrative helm. His executives and their administrative assistants seemed happy, even comfortable with her calling the shots. With such a person handling the day-to-day operations of LexCorp, he could focus on other things.
He even covertly sought her advice on the actresses, models, and politicians’ daughters he squired around town. Antoinette Baines, the fiery scientist whose ‘friendship’ he cultivated as a means of learning Prometheus Space Station’s secrets ended partially because of his lovely assistant.
Aykira had been working for him at least a year when Lex introduced to Antoinette. The two women took an immediate dislike to each other. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Aykira discovered her on the terrace in Lex’s apartment, having breakfast, wearing the same clothes she wore the previous evening at dinner.
This was not the first time Aykira had met one of his houseguests, but this time it was different. Her face did not display jealousy, but instead betrayed an intense sadness. So much so, that Aykira later pleaded a headache and went home. Lex could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes. Afterwards Antoinette never spent the night at his home again. For some strange reason he did not want to see that melancholy expression etched on Aykira’s face again.
In any case, the plot to sabotage P1 had failed miserably, thanks to the newly arrived Man of Steel. Antoinette, because her dreams of wealth or perhaps keeping Lex as more than a business associate were not realized, demanded Lex pay her something as compensation. Pay her off he did, by promising to lay all their plans at her doorstep if she ever dared blackmail him or mention his name in connection with the Space Station troubles.
Terrified of the prospect of facing a long federal prison term, Antoinette bolted. She immediately severed her ties to Luthor and resigned from EPRAD. The last he had heard of the scientist, she was teaching physics in an obscure community college in the Midwest.
Of course, Lex was not totally without companionship, but those affairs were short-lived and few. Although they had dated briefly, the beautiful Daily Planet reporter Lois Lane did not draw him mentally and emotionally as Aykira did. Despite her slim mask of brisk, even standoffish, efficiency, he knew the woman who touched the sword held a similar, albeit smoldering, attraction for him. He took pains to hide his feelings from everyone, but deep in his heart, Aykira was the woman he cared for.
He decided to slowly alter their relationship, put it on a more friendly footing. The first step was to make updating of his business calendar into a challenging game. Aykira surprised him. After the first month, she kept it with greater accuracy than he ever did. They started each morning going over his schedule; sometimes he might attempt to trip her up, only to fail more often than succeed. The second step, in his plan to improve their relationship, Lex teased her with gentle sincerity. To his delight, she responded in kind, but always as a respectful assistant. Still, it was refreshing having a work confidante. Not since the early days of his relationship with former wife Arianna Carlin had, he experienced anything remotely like it.
His administrative assistant continued displaying her flair for organizational management and handled people with a lighter touch than himself. Some of his chief executives were more inclined to discuss a matter with Aykira before going to him. She was truly a valuable resource. The time had come to give her greater duties within the company. She would be the perfect permanent media liaison between LexCorp and the barrage of reporters who would be asking questions about the microprocessors theft from the Shackleton when the news broke.
The military knew what was really stolen and would be only too happy for the investigation’s focus to be on common technology while they searched for the purloined crystals.
Now he needed Aykira’s assistance to draft a memo increasing the hourly work schedule for key scientists at LexSolar. He wanted the crystals installed within Space Station Lex as a power source as soon as possible. With the expected shipment of industrial crystals imminent, the solar panels had to be reconfigured and manufactured quickly to be in time for the mid-summer launch one year hence.
Afterwards, those same scientists’ work expertise on the harmonic crystals could be applied to its other applications. LexCorp’s financial capacity in government contracts and medical advances would have no bounds.
Those reasons were not listed in the report. Its appearance was that of a routine work assessment. His key person at the facility, Dr. Frederick Scott, knew what Lex required. There was no reason to draw Aykira into this plan. He preferred she remain in the dark about his ‘other’ business activities. Plausible deniability is an important asset.
Still, if Aykira ever gave cause to terminate her relationship with LexCorp, Asabi could make sure the administrative assistant would be implicated into any number of schemes. It was an unlikely fallback plan, one which Lex had no desire to use.
Still, Aykira was busy enough with running LexCorp’s Executive Suite and her workload was about to increase. Like tonight, she made herself available to work long hours.
He smiled a greeting when she entered the room, wearing a chic silk gold fitted jacket with black pants. Simple gold earrings dangled from her ears and a slender gold pendant hung from her neck. On her perfectly manicured right hand’s index finger lay a square silver ring adorned with intricate, deep etchings on the sides. It must have some sentimental value. He never remembered a time she did not wear it. A pair of black low-heel sling back pumps adorned her feet. He imagined those brown legs covered by silk stockings. <Truly magnificent.> Lex sighed inwardly.
Holding a pad in her arm, Aykira Hallick walked further into the lushly carpeted office. “Yes, Mr. Luthor?”
“This personnel assessment and updated work schedule must be done, so thank you for staying late on such a wet, dreary night. Please set up an appointment to see the head physicist, a Dr. George Amundsen, tomorrow. He’s mentioned leaving the project and moving home to Seattle. Could you handle that for me? The man is invaluable. If you must, increase his salary by as much as twenty-five thousand dollars as an incentive, effective immediately.”
Handing her two sheets of paper with his written notes describing the particulars of LexSolar’s personnel needs, he continued firing off orders, which Aykira swiftly jotted into her notebook.
Upon completion of the work, Lex sighed, rubbed his forehead, feeling a mild stress headache was slowly abating and said. “That is all for now.” He looked up, shook his head and teasingly said, “My dear Ms. Hallick, how do you ever keep up with my demands?”
Allowing herself a bit of amusement, she said with a smile. “You pay better than the next guy.” Then, after looking over his notes and instructions, she continued, “This should take all of ten minutes to type and edit. I will forward it to you when it is done, Mr. Luthor.”
“Lex, please - no one is here,” He said in an equally teasing tone.
Her hazel eyes smiled softly. “Which is precisely why it is *Mr.* Luthor.”
“Of course, he smiled back at her, immensely enjoying the game. In any case, I insist on calling my car service. Taking the Metro on a night such as this is out of the question.”
The shade of an impish smile again played across her face. “Mr. Luthor, I arrange for all the executive car services. I already have a car standing by. As you say, it is a rather unpleasant night. I intend to leave as soon as this report is typed up.”
“Staying tonight in my home is always an option. My behavior would be that of a complete and perfect gentleman.” Lex placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. His voice said one thing, but his eyes spoke very differently. The game had moved to a new level.
Aykira’s features stilled, a look passed over them. What was it? Caution? Desire? Deep longing, with a maddening touch of sadness? Like a gentle mist, it vanished and her face once again resembled the mask of an efficient executive administrative assistant. “N… no”, she stammered nervously. “That shall not be necessary, although the offer was a kind one. Good night, Mr. Luthor.”
“Good night, Ms. Hallick.”
After a brief nod of her head, Aykira turned and gracefully walked out of Luthor’s office suite and downstairs to her office.
***
<“Idiot!”> The voice inside her head roared. <He’s drawing you in. Another mistake like that will ruin everything. Focus on the true task at hand. He is *not* the man you love!> After exiting the circular staircase she walked briskly down the silent corridor, then entered her own stylishly appointed office. Sitting down at the reproduction of a nineteenth century French writing table, she created and edited the report, then forwarded it to her boss as promised.
Minutes later, the intercom went off again, but Aykira Hallick had departed for the night.
