Man of Steel: The Official Movie Novelization

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Where is the alien, Ms. Lane?”

General Swanwick leaned across his desk at NORTHCOM HQ. Colonel Hardy and Dr. Hamilton— whom Lois remembered from Ellesmere—were also taking part in the interrogation. A pair of federal agents stood guard by the door, just in case she tried to make a break for it.

Fat chance, Lois thought. She knew better than to try to get past an army of soldiers on high alert. She’d have better odds breaking out of a supermax prison.

“I told you,” she said irritably, “I don’t know.”

“The FBI have your hard drive, your emails,” Hardy said, playing bad cop. “They know you were tracking him. Keeping silent doesn’t benefit anyone.”

Except maybe Clark, she thought. And everyone who’s depending on him.

“We believe the ship you discovered transmitted a signal that guided the visitors to Earth,” Emil Hamilton stated. “The question is, why is this particular individual so valuable to them. Did he ever discuss a motive for his people’s journey?”

Lois kept silent, unwilling to reveal anything that might be used against Clark. She stared back at her interrogators without flinching. She wasn’t about to let anyone intimidate her—not even a five-star general.

“Be reasonable, Ms. Lane,” Swanwick said. “If you’re found guilty of treason, you could be given the death penalty.”

“I’ve been threatened with death before, General,” she responded. “It doesn’t scare me.”

“Then what about the aliens that levied this ultimatum?” he countered. “Because they sure as hell scare me.”

Lois knew how he felt, but she held her tongue. Clark wasn’t like them—he wasn’t the enemy, of that much she was sure.

“He’s not human, Ms. Lane.” Swanwick pounded on his desk in frustration. “Why are you protecting him?”

“I’m not!” she blurted. “He doesn’t need my protection. We need his.” She tried her damnedest to make them understand. “If we give him up, there’s no one left to stop them. They know that. That’s why they want him!”

The general’s aide, Captain Farris, rushed into the office. She was breathless, and very flustered.

“Sir, we’ve, umm, got a situation out at the North Gate.”

Swanwick had read the leaked accounts of Lane’s experiences in Arctic. He had been briefed on the alien’s alleged superhuman abilities. Even so, as his Humvee pulled up to the gate, he rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

A caped figure, clad in red, blue, and gold, hovered in the air above the base’s main gate, brazenly defying gravity. A stylized “S” was emblazoned on the chest of his uniform, while his crimson cape flapped gently in the wind. A dark-haired Caucasian male, the man matched the description of the alien who had infiltrated the base at Ellesmere—and absconded with the buried spaceship.

He looked surprisingly human.

Battle-clad soldiers scrambled in response to the incursion, bringing their weapons to bear, but the floating stranger appeared unconcerned by the battery of automatic rifles, handguns, and missile launchers that were targeting him. Swanwick wondered what he knew that they didn’t.

He and Hardy got out of the vehicle. He approached the intruder.

“All right,” Swanwick said. “You’ve got our attention. What do you want?”

“I want to talk to Lois Lane.”

Swanwick hedged, testing the intruder’s intel.

“What makes you think she’s here?”

“Don’t play games with me, General,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll surrender. But only if you guarantee Lois’s freedom.”

Swanwick weighed his options. Taking the alien into custody seemed worth the risk. He nodded, and the figure descended to the pavement, touching down as lightly as an army chopper—or a dancer.

An armed security team cuffed the prisoner and marched him toward the compound. Experienced military personnel, most of whom had seen combat, nervously watched as he passed by. Nothing in their training had prepared them for a close encounter like this.

The general found himself pining for the good old days, when all he’d had to worry about were terrorists and rogue nations. Not strange visitors from another planet.

Despite herself, Lois was relieved to see Clark again. He sat opposite her in a sterile white containment cell, his cuffed hands resting in his lap. She assumed they were being monitored by about a zillion cameras, scanners, and recording devices. A long rectangular mirror occupied one wall of the cell, and Lois had seen enough cop shows to know they had a live audience, as well.

“Why are you surrendering to Zod?” she asked.

“I’m not,” he answered. “I’m surrendering myself to mankind. There’s a difference.” He sounded certain, as if he had thought long and hard about his decision, and was at peace with his choice. “It’s your world. I’m letting you—all of you—decide what happens next.”

She glanced at his wrists.

“You let them cuff you.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a surrender if I resisted.” He shrugged. “If it makes them feel more secure, all the better.”

She turned her attention to the colorful blue-and-red costume he had donned for the occasion. It was a far cry from the ordinary, civilian attire she’d always seen him in before. Her gaze zeroed in on the emblem on his chest.

“So what does the ‘S’ stand for?”

“It’s not an ‘S,’” he explained. “On my world, it means ‘hope.’”

“Well, here it’s an ‘S.’” She thought it over, searching for something more headline-friendly. “So how about… Superman?”

He blushed slightly, which she found rather charming.

“Sounds a little showy,” he said.

And that suit isn’t? she thought. The way she saw it, anything was better than “Scary Alien Guy.”

Superman it is, she decided.

The observation room on other side of the two-way mirror was packed with military brass and scientists, all getting their first close look at the alien as he interacted with Lane. Swanwick wasn’t sure what he thought about this whole “Superman” business, but figured it was as good a label as any, at least until they uncovered his true identity.

“He seems so human,” Carrie Farris observed.

“The similarities are only skin deep, I assure you,” Dr. Hamilton said. He and his fellow brainiacs were hunched over an array of remote-imaging monitors. A battery of sensors had been deployed to probe the alien’s anatomy using everything from infrared to ultrasound. “Based on these readings, his muscles and bones are considerably denser than ours.”

“What about flight?” Swanwick asked. “How can he keep aloft?”

“I have no idea,” Hamilton admitted. “Some kind of bio-electric field?”

Superman turned toward the mirror.

“I don’t know how I fly. I just do.”

Swanwick and the others twitched in surprise. What the devil, the general thought. That cell is supposed to be soundproof.

“I can hear you just fine, general,” the alien said. “Your heartbeats, too. So I wouldn’t advise lying to me.”

Hamilton leaned forward and keyed the intercom.

“Sir, my name is—”

“Dr. Emil Hamilton, I know.” Superman seemed to look straight through the mirror at them. “I can see your ID in your breast pocket. Along with a half-eaten roll of Wintergreen Lifesavers.”

The scientist sheepishly checked his pocket. Then he nodded in confirmation.

Superman shifted his gaze, looking directly at Swanwick.

“You should know that I can see those soldiers in the next room, readying that ‘tranquilizing agent’ of yours.”

Sure enough, another monitor showed the soldiers preparing a high-tech injector system designed by DARPA. Swanwick had been assured that even without a needle, the injector would penetrate the alien’s skin, no matter how dense it was. At least, in theory.

“You won’t need it,” Superman said. “And even if you did, I doubt it would work on me.”

The alien’s confidence was both unnerving and annoying. He had already demonstrated sensory abilities beyond anything they had anticipated. Who knew what other tricks he had up his steel-blue sleeve?

Swanwick irritably signaled his soldiers to stand down.

“You can’t expect us not to take precautions,” Hamilton stated. “What if you’re carrying some kind of alien pathogen?”

“I’ve been here for thirty-three years, doctor. I haven’t infected anyone yet.”

“That you know of,” Swanwick said. “I’m sorry, but your assurances aren’t good enough. We have legitimate security concerns.” He nodded at Lois, confident that Superman could see him through the mirror. “You’ve revealed your identity to Ms. Lane here. Why won’t you do the same with us?”

Superman rose from the table and approached the mirror. Fearful scientists and technicians backed away from the glass.

“Let’s put our cards on the table, general,” the alien said. “You’re scared of me because you can’t control me. You don’t. And you never will. But that doesn’t mean I’m your enemy.”

Swanwick wished he could believe him.

“Then who is?” he asked. “Zod?”

“That’s what I’m worried about, yes.”

Then we have that in common, Swanwick thought, if you’re telling the truth. Then he said, “Be that as it may, I have been given orders to hand you over to him.”

The general braced himself for Superman’s reaction, and Farris placed her hand on her sidearm. But their visitor accepted the news with a stoic expression. If he was disappointed in humanity for acceding to Zod’s demands, it was difficult to tell. He just nodded gravely

“Do what you have to do, then.”