Something amazing had happened. The child stared in awe at his hands, amazed not at their being but rather the fact that they were no longer transparent. He was
physical... flesh... corporeal existance. The sensation of having his feet rooted to the ground by gravity, the weight of his body, the ebb and flow of breath in his lungs, the beating of an organ in his chest were all new experiences for him. There was a place in the Phantom Zone where physical manifestation was possible for a time, but Lor had never been there. At least, not to his knowledge. One of father's soldiers had once made the comment that Lor had been
made there, but the child didn't understand his meaning. The soldier was no longer with them either. Father had said that the soldier's loyalty had failed.
Fealty and service were rewarded by father's just rule. Failure only undermined father's authority and that was unacceptable. Father was a great man to give so much and ask so little, and so simple a thing, in return. For his
greatness, loyalty was the least of what was owed General Zod.
The young boy wasn't alone in his struggle to comprehend the nature of the corporeal existence that had been spontaniously thrust upon him. Beside him, Krypto huffed and whined while turning circles and nipping at the limbs where seemed so awkward in comparison to phantom grace. As the child reached out to comfort the animal, he discovered the physical sensation of touch. He could feel the animal's fur, the soft tufts brushing against the palm of his hand, and the individual hairs jutting between his fingers. The concepts had existed in the Phantom Zone, but this was tangible. This was
real.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Children have rights, damn it. This country signed a treaty about those rights," Dabney shouted, a little more forcefully than he'd intended. "Yet here you all are talking about experimenting on a little boy!"
"No,
it isn't."
The voice was heavy, jaded and weary as the voice of one who had learned to talk over artillery fire in dark places where angels feared to tread. Dabney turned his attention to the side of the table that had spoken only to find himself facing a civilian official with Homeland Security. "You're not a medical doctor so allow me to give you a little education about that Geneva Convention on the Rights of a Child. Don't feel bad though, Doctor Donovan, our legal folks here at the Pentagon had to educate me," the man went on to say, before turning to give a nod of his head toward one of the Navy lawyers seated just a few chairs down. "Bob, why don't you explain for us."
"Doctor Donovan, strictly speaking, a 'boy' is an under-developed male
human. According to your report, Superboy is an extraterrestrial. Now, legally speaking, one is either a human or an animal. The law makes no distinction or allowance for a non-human sentient being. So for the purposes of our discussion, can we agree that Superboy is not human, doctor?"
Donovan's mouth went dry, his face flush at having his own report quoted at him. Let alone out of context. "That's an unfair comparison. Human beings are animals, sir."
"I'm asking you whether your report is accurate, doctor," the Navy officer stated crisply. "Is Superboy human or not?"
Donovan just held the man's gaze for a long moment. "He is not," he said finally.
Clearing his throat, the civilian official from Homeland Security spoke up again. "Superman is the greatest hero known to man. And he has the potential to be the end of the world. Now my job isn't to know what's inside the bastard's head, only to be prepared for a contingency we'd all rather not think about," the man explained nonchalantly, pausing to look over at the monitors before turning his attention back to Donovan. "We need weapons that are effective against Superman, it's as simple as that. So you can call it what you like, but legally speaking this is
animal testing."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"So what's your game?"
It was Dabney's voice. With his hearing, Lor could still hear the conversation inside of the plane. He could hear the anger and bitterness in the man's voice. He was upset, not just at the woman but he wasn't happy with her either.
"Are you sure you want to know? I mean, it's obvious now that you have no idea just how the game is played," the woman answered calmly. Lor was beginning to get the message that whatever was going on, Miss Fionna was in charge.
"Let's start with where we're going. That's the eastern seaboard below us, but we're headed south. Metropolis is north of DC, Miss Ross."
The comment was the first time that Lor had realized there was an ocean beneath them. But it was on their left when it should have been on their right. And the climate was warmer than either Washington or Metropolis. Dropping several hundred feet in mere moments, the young Superboy skimmed along the surface of the Atlantic as he continued to listen in on the adult's conversation.
"Don't you know? It was your suggestion, Doctor Donovan. We're going to Sweet Home Alabama, home of the U.S. Space Camp."
"Why?"
"Because I can, and because you obviously don't know what you're doing. You wanted the United States government to endorse a metahuman and had absolutely no idea what politics would be involved. Superman gives the entire Joint Chiefs of Staff penis envy. He's the soldier they dream of being."
That comment almost stopped Lor dead in the air.
"Superman? A soldier?" the boy uttered, before breaking out in a giggly-laugh. Superman was barely adequate as Kryptonians went. He'd have never made it in Dru-Zod's army, of that Lor was certain. If humans thought that Superman was a soldier, and were scared of that, then General Dru-Zod would more than terrify them.
"No, I mean... why are you doing this?"
"The Department of Metahuman Affairs has a lot of interest in keeping the growing population of metahumans in check. Registration, for example. It might be repulsive that we want to treat Superboy and others like him as though they were sex offenders, but its in the public interest to know who and where these people are, and what they can do. Congress hasn't bought off on the registration idea yet though."
Lor began to slow down, trailing behind the chair as he nervously grabbed a hold of his t-shirt and fidgeted slightly. He wasn't really understanding the conversation, but he didn't like the way that Miss Fionna talked about him.
"But using a child for animal testing to develop some kind of silver bullet to bring down Superman? If anything the DMA has a vested interest in preventing that from happening."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“So Superboy was revealed recently at a press conference as the person responsible for the rescue of Space Shuttle Excalibur, as well as Astronaut Micah Flint…” Robin Roberts began, consulting her notes for a moment, pausing a second before she then added, “…who was later killed by Superboy, would you care to elaborate on that, doctor?”
Dabney reached a hand up to adjust the collar that seemed to be tightening around his neck. Clearing his throat a second time, Donovan paused to take a sip of water from a nearby glass before responding. “Lieutenant Flint unfortunately suffered some kind of physical mutation as a result of exposure to whatever radiation caused the failure of the space shuttle.” A handkerchief came out to dab the sweat beading on Donovan’s brow. What people said about those studio lights were true, he was in ‘the hot seat’. Wetting his lips, Dabney added, “He was obviously in a great deal of pain and we believe it drove him mad. He nearly destroyed our entire facility at Pike Island, and likely would have killed a number of personnel had Superboy not stopped him.”
“Most recently Superboy and Superman together rescued Daily Planet reporter Cat Grant. Can you tell us what’s next for Superboy, doctor?”
“He’ll actually be traveling to the International Space Station this afternoon,” Donovan remarked, relaxing once more as he again put forth his best smile for the camera. “As you know, the Space Shuttle Daedalus is there now completing the mission originally assigned to Excalibur, which included some repairs. An additional component piece was identified as in need of replacement that we hadn’t planned on, so he’ll be delivering that.”
Laying her notes aside for a moment, Roberts looked directly at Donovan and asked, “With the planned retirement of the space shuttle program, do you see Superboy as a possible alternative for deliveries to the space station?”
“Superboy’s ability to traverse our atmosphere at all levels gives us flexibility in responding to the needs of the international space station, or our other space experiments, that the space shuttle program does not.”
“I see,” Robin answered, falling quiet for a moment before she leaned forward and said, “So, doctor, would it be fair to say that Project Superboy is the planned exploitation of a child by the United States government?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“That’s it,” Oz declared firmly.
“That’s what?”
Turning, Oz jabbed a finger directly toward the television. “That’s the solution.”
“But, we’ve already covered astronauts…”
“No.
Superboy,” the man stated, a slow grin forming as an idea began solidifying in his mind. Pulling out his WayneBerry, the man quickly scrolled to the internet as he continued on, “Think about it! Every kid wants to be Superman, right? That kid is Superman. He’s a marketing cash cow and NASA knows it, too. Look, it’s right here on their web page. ‘
Superboy to answer questions by Twitter from the International Space Station,’” Oz remarked, holding out the Twitter announcement so that the accountant could see it for himself.
“So what do you want to do? Get NASA to sponsor us?”
“We just need to become the show that Superboy watches,” Oz said with a Cheshire grin. “If other kids know that Superboy watches
the Uncle Oswald Show, they’ll watch too.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
