Freeman had tried not to show his surprise at how seriously Straker was still taking a dream he’d had ten years before. Besides, Trask was still alive. And it was just barely possible that Straker had read more into the dream that he should have. It was also just barely possible that Straker was mistaken about the Earth-crossing asteroid.
He refused to give Freeman any more details of the dream, or the asteroid. Straker tried to laugh it off, claiming it was just a nightmare he’d had a long time ago, but Freeman knew he was just trying to minimize the worry he’d caused by telling Freeman about it
A call to an associate at EPRAD didn’t help to confirm or deny Straker’s assertion that Earth was in danger from an asteroid. Although Dr. Sascka confirmed that a body would cross Earth’s orbit, all their computations indicated it would miss the Earth by a very comfortable margin.
Was it possible that Straker was wrong? Freeman hoped so. There was something perverse about saving the Earth from marauding aliens only to be taken out by an act of God disguised as an asteroid.
The next few days simply confirmed another fact that Freeman already knew – Trask and his team were cunning as well as ruthless and while Trask may not have been clinically insane, his utter focus on his mission combined with his total disregard for human life made him at least as dangerous as any of Earth’s real enemies. Plus, pulling a raid on a major newspaper was never exactly a good idea, and trying to intimidate the Daily Planet… well, that qualified as utterly lunatic. Freeman had never met Perry White, but the man’s reputation as a newspaperman was that he was no one to mess with.
“Do we know for a fact that it was Trask and his bunch at the Planet?” one of SHADO’s local operatives asked during the emergency security meeting that had been called immediately after the raid.
“Trask didn’t even bother to hide his face from the building’s security cameras,” Paul Foster told her. “In fact, it almost looks like he wanted to be identified. He certainly made no effort to get a legitimate search warrant, or to cover the fact that his was a fake. And I’m sure he could have gotten a real one, if he’d wanted to.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense,” the younger operative complained mildly. Freeman recalled that her name was Rosario – Connie Rosario. She was one of the newer, post-war, recruits.
“They were trying to get information on Superman,” Straker told the group. “Trask wants Superman to know there’s a government agency, legitimate or not, going after him. And he wants us to know that we can’t stop him.”
“Yes” Doctor Jackson put in. Despite the psychiatrist’s many years in Great Britain and in the US, his Eastern European accent was a thick as ever – when he wanted it to be. “Trask wants everyone to know that he and his people are above the law and not answerable to any authority outside of himself,” Jackson continued. “He wants us and Superman to respond in a ‘reactive’ rather than ‘proactive’ manner, thereby justifying his own skewed preconceptions of the situation.”
“Are we certain that his ideas are really that skewed?” someone asked. “I mean, what do we really know about this Superman?”
“We probably know more about him than he does about himself right now,” Straker told the group. “After all, we know he’s not the only alien living on Earth, but I doubt he knows that.”
“General, considering the type of being Superman is… can we control him if we have to?” Foster asked, echoing the question Freeman knew was on everyone’s mind.
Straker took a moment before answering. “Can we control him as in giving him orders and expecting him to obey without question? No. Psychologically, he’s basically a well-travelled, rather idealistic, young American male,” Straker stated. He paused a moment before continuing. “Do I believe there is a method to rein him in if his actions become threatening or dangerous? Yes. Do I believe there is something capable of hurting him, maybe even killing him? Also yes.”
“Sir, do you mind if we ask what that something is?” Rosario asked.
“Element 126. It’s a relatively stable transuranic and it’s believed to be a fragment of his home planet,” Straker explained.
“And it can hurt him?”
“Yes, I believe it can.”
Freeman could see the relief in everyone’s faces. Handling a power mad human was one thing. An uncontrollable demi-god was something else entirely.
Freeman waited until he was alone with Straker before voicing his own concerns. “Ed, do we have any of this element 126?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you know where we can get our hands on some if we need it?”
“I think so,” Straker said.
Freeman snorted. Straker could be downright obtuse when he wanted to be. And it appeared that today he wanted to be.
“Does Trask have any?” Freeman pressed.
“Not that I know of,” Straker said. “Not yet, anyway.” He gave Freeman a sardonic grin. “Do you have any doubt that he would have used it already if he had it?”
Freeman had to admit that Straker was probably right. Trask would never have passed up the opportunity to use whatever weapons he had available to destroy what he considered an intolerable threat to the planet.
Freeman also didn’t want to admit it out loud, but he wasn’t certain he wouldn’t act exactly like Trask if their positions were reversed. As far as Jason Trask knew, he was charged with defending a helpless planet against an unknown enemy of unknown strength – an enemy that may well have corrupted his superiors and kept him from being able to do his job.
“Ed, are we so sure that Trask is in the wrong?” he asked softly.
Straker had the courtesy to ponder the question before answering. “Alec, before the president authorized General Henderson and me to brief the heads of state of the great powers about the problem with our alien invaders, we had to have evidence that there was a credible threat. Evidence good enough to convince a congressional committee that there was a credible threat. Evidence good enough that if it came down to it, a district attorney could go before a grand jury and get a true bill against aliens from outer space on multiple counts of murder. How many innocent people did the Rokan-shui kill before we actually had enough evidence to go ahead? How many victims all killed with the same M.O.?”
“Thousands,” Freeman answered.
“And Trask wants to set himself up as judge, jury, and executioner of one possible, not even confirmed, alien on Earth,” Straker said. “There’s no evidence that Superman’s committed any crime, except maybe emigration law violations. No bodies, no missing persons, nothing except for Trask’s insistence that lack of evidence of a crime is evidence of a conspiracy to cover up a crime.”
“So, how do we deal with him? Shoot him, like in your dream?” Freeman asked.
Straker gave him a sharp look. “I don’t recall telling you that I shot him.”
“Well, running him down with your car might damage the car. And bombs aren’t your style,” Freeman said, suppressing the sudden chill he felt. He knew Straker had shot Trask, but he had no idea how he knew.
“I should have had him taken out ten years ago,” Straker admitted. “Unfortunately, Trask’s supervisors didn’t entirely agree with Jackson’s assessment of Trask’s mental stability. Besides he was useful in diverting suspicion away from us when we needed it.”
“And now?”
“What do you think?” Straker’s tone was flat. “If he or any of his people so much as sneeze, we need to know about it.”
“Then it’s a good thing that Paul ordered extra surveillance on them the moment we confirmed it was Bureau 39 that raided Daily Planet. But tell me, what if we do need to take him down? Do we tell the local authorities that the Bureau is a terrorist organization and let them handle it for us?”
“That’s what we’re supposed to do,” Straker reminded him. “At least in the U.S.”
“He knows an awful lot about us.”
“I know.”
