Man of Steel: The Official Movie Novelization

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

On the big board at NORTHCOM, two red triangles inched their way over an illuminated map of the American Midwest. Dozens of adrenalized threat analysts rushed to interpret the data as General Swanwick rushed back into the ops center, accompanied by Hardy, Farris, and Hamilton. He quickly scanned the numerous video displays upon the wall.

“What’s the sitrep, major?” he demanded of the nearest officer.

“DSP pinged two bogeys launching from the alien ship,” the man reported.

Swanwick remembered the bug-like dropship that had collected Superman and Lane. What were the aliens after now?

“Retask Ikon-4 and get me a closer look,” he ordered. Maybe the spy satellite could shed some light on this latest development. He hoped to God that this wasn’t the beginning of an invasion, but knew that he needed to take appropriate action, just in case.

While his people redirected the satellite, he walked briskly to a secure land-line and picked up the receiver.

“Command Victor-Eight-Six-Whiskey-Three,” he barked into the phone. “The word of the day is ‘trident.’ We have two alien craft on aggressive approach. Request SECDEF set DEFCON 1. Put all combat and combat support airborne on Alert 5!”

“Ikon-4 coming online!” an analyst called out.

And none too soon, Swanwick thought. He replaced the receiver, just as real-time images of the Kryptonian dropships appeared on the central screens. The ships— which were identical to the one that had been piloted by Sub-Commander Faora—were flying low over America’s heartland. Acres of growing corn and wheat rippled in the ships’ wake. They looked like two giant locusts zipping above the amber waves of grain.

“Air speed?” Swanwick asked.

“Three hundred and eighty knots and entering Kansas airspace!” an analyst reported. He adjusted his headset. “They’re not responding to our hails!”

Swanwick did some quick mental calculations. He glanced at an illuminated map to see what resources were available to him.

“Get me Fort Anderson,” he ordered. “Scramble the closest AWACS.” He turned toward Colonel Hardy, who was waiting expectantly. “That’s for you, Colonel. I need your eyes on the ground yesterday. And bring me one of those bastards back alive.”

Hardy saluted and made tracks. He was good soldier who understood better than most just what was at stake, having been involved ever since the discovery on Ellesmere. There wasn’t a better man for the job.

Except maybe the one he had turned over to Zod.

Superman felt like a lab rat laid out for dissection. Gritting his teeth, he strained once again against his shackles, but was unable to break loose from the examination table. He had never felt so weak, so helpless.

“You’re wasting your efforts,” Jax-Ur said. “The strength you derive from your exposure to Earth’s sun has been neutralized aboard our ship.”

The lean Kryptonian scientist approached the table. His gloved hands gripped a bony, segmented syringe that looked more like some sort of petrified parasite than a piece of medical equipment. Razor-sharp pinchers clamped down on Superman’s arm while a hollow stinger penetrated his sleeve and skin. The prisoner winced at the unfamiliar stinging sensation—thanks to his parents’ studied secrecy, he’d never had blood drawn before. He watched with dismay as the grotesque parody of a syringe extracted a crimson sample.

“Here, in this environment,” Jax-Ur said, “you’re as weak as any human.”

Superman just hoped that Lois wasn’t being subjected to similar treatment.

Car-Vex tossed Lois into an empty cell.

Even worse, the female Kryptonian had refused to answer any of her questions. She wouldn’t reveal where Superman was, or if he was okay. When she’d last seen him, he was being dragged off by Zod’s goons, unconscious and looking like death warmed over. Since then, nobody on this space-age penitentiary had bothered to give her an update.

For all she knew, he was dead.

Fighting despair, she sat in the corner of her cell, staring down and hugging herself to keep warm. The air-conditioning aboard the Black Zero was set uncomfortably low, leading her to guess that Krypton had been a much cooler planet. Shivering, she tried to figure out what to do next.

She’d been in tight fixes before, but being locked up on a chilly alien spaceship populated by superhuman storm troopers was a new one. She couldn’t count on Superman to come to her rescue again, either.

Whatever her next move would be, it was entirely up to her.

The air that was being pumped into her cell had been adapted to her needs, so she didn’t need a respirator anymore. Lifting her eyes from the floor, she examined her cell more closely. Rounded walls gave it the feel of a hollow cavity inside a living organism, which didn’t do anything to reassure her. The polished surfaces were largely smooth and seamless, but her questing gaze fell upon a glowing port set into the wall next to the sealed entrance.

An idea occurred to her, and she retrieved the nail-like object Superman had given her on the way here. Thankfully, Zod’s forces hadn’t bothered to search her—no doubt they assumed she was incapable of posing a threat.

She compared the head of the object, which bore Superman’s trademark “S,” to the empty port on the wall. Hope sparked inside her as she confirmed that they matched. Superman had silently hinted that she should hold onto the key until the time was right.

Was this the moment?

Might as well go for it, she thought. Who knows if I’ll get another chance?

Holding her breath, she inserted the key into the port. It fit perfectly, which she took as a positive omen, and she waited for something to happen. But, much to her disappointment, the cell remained as closed and claustrophobic as ever. The entrance stayed sealed.

Great, she thought glumly. Talk about a big black zero.

She turned away from the locked door—only to find a tall, bearded man standing behind her. She yelped in surprise.

“Where did you come from?” she demanded.

“The command key, Ms. Lane,” came the reply. “Thanks to you, I’m now uploading a copy of myself into the ship’s mainframe.”

What does he mean by that? Lois took a closer look at her unexpected guest. He was an imposing robed figure whose regal bearing conveyed a combination of wisdom and authority. His graying brown beard gave him the look of some space-age patriarch.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am Jor-El,” he answered. “Kal’s father.”

She hadn’t seen that coming. Startled, she peered at the stranger’s face. On closer inspection, she thought she saw a family resemblance… maybe. He drew back his robes to reveal the “S” emblazoned on his chest.

Like father, like son.

She glanced around furtively, afraid that the entire discussion was being monitored. There were no two-way mirrors in evidence, but maybe the Kryptonians had a more advanced method of surveillance?

So she cut to the chase.

“Can you help me?” she asked.

“I designed this ship,” he said. “I can modify its atmospheric composition to human compatibility. And I know how to stop them.” Soulful brown eyes implored her. “Will you help me?”

“Yes, of course.”

This whole business was getting wilder and wilder, but if there was even a chance of blindsiding Zod and his troops, then she was determined to take it.

Jor-El gestured toward a holographic display pad. Helixes of Kryptonian code spiraled across the screen. Lois couldn’t make head nor tail of it.

“We will have to move quickly then,” he said. “The crew is already aware of my presence. You can send them back to the Phantom Zone, but you must give my son the following message…”

Lois listened carefully.

The dropships came in low above the cornfields outside Smallville. Their slipstream uprooted the crops and set the fields ablaze. Smoke rose from burning stalks even as the ships descended toward the town.

Ordinary citizens, going about their business, stared in shock at the extraterrestrial aircraft. A mother in a playground, pushing her child on a swing, froze at the sight. Pete Ross, hearing the commotion, dashed out into the parking lot of the pancake house. His jaw dropped as he watched the bizarre objects streak over the water tower. They screamed through the air like banshees.

Pete froze in place. He hadn’t been this scared since the bus crash, twenty years ago. And this time, there was no one to rescue him.

Jor-El’s data screen blinked off abruptly. The lights went out in Lois’s cell, plunging her into darkness. Alarms sounded.

“Remove the command key, Ms. Lane.”

If you say so, she thought. Fumbling in the dark, she extracted it from the port.

The cell door slid open. Lois poked her head out and took a cautious breath, afraid that the air would still be too alien for comfort. But Jor-El had adjusted the atmosphere, as promised. She could breathe easily.

That was one less thing to worry about.

She slipped out into the cramped, murky corridor, accompanied by Clark’s father. By this time she had figured out that he was a hologram, a computer program who apparently could traverse the ship at will. He looked deceptively solid, but he was as insubstantial as, well, a phantom.

For a brief moment she hoped they could get away undetected, but then Car-Vex spotted her. The female soldier charged, drawing a creepy-looking Kryptonian pistol.

Lois prayed it had a “stun” setting.

Right, she thought. I should be so lucky.

But before woman could fire, an emergency blast door slammed down from the ceiling, pinning her to the floor. Her pistol was knocked from her grip and went skidding across the nacreous tiles toward Lois.

Lois glanced sideways at Jor-El. “Did you do that?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Take her sidearm. Keep moving!”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Scooping the freaky alien gun from the floor, she sprinted after Jor-El, who guided her through a bewildering maze of arteries. Her sweaty palm was wrapped around the grip of the pistol. She had never fired a ray-gun before, but figured there was a first time for everything.

She wondered how long that door was going to hold Car-Vex.