Supergirl and the Legion of Super-Heroes

A New Generation

Part 1

© Dylan Clearbrook

 

 

Themyscira, Earth

2984 A.D.

It was a scene from a nightmare.

The battle had been brief…and utterly silent.

Though her acolytes had fought bravely…they now lay strewn around the room, dead or dying.

Magalla teetered on the edge of darkness, fighting to remain conscious.  She had to know…had to discover some hint of the attackers identities.  And how they had so mysteriously appeared within the depths of the Temple.  And how they had masked all sound so as to prevent alerting the warrior women in the temple above.  What they wanted…

“No!” Magalla croaked as blackness threatened to take her.  “It cannot be!”

The leader of the attackers had removed her helmet, revealing her identity, as she moved towards the stasis unit that was the central piece of equipment in this particular room.  It was clear what she wanted.

“It is too soon!” Magalla tried to protest; yet even she could not hear her own words.

The dark haired woman studied the unit for a brief moment and then simply reached in and pulled out what appeared to be a small child.  The darkness clouding Magalla’s eyes refused to let her discern the color of the skin.

“No.” Magalla’s scream, so weak even she wondered if it had been uttered aloud, was ignored as the woman stepped back and fired a mystical blast at the stasis unit…

Darkness took her.

Metropolis, Earth

United Planets Enclave

2998 A.D.

The morsel of food hung suspended on the fork, halfway between plate and mouth.

With an effort of will, the man at the head of the table forced his hand to complete the motion, moving the food to his mouth where he chewed slowly, thoughtfully.  Stalling to collect his thoughts, he speared another piece of meat from the plate, began to lift it to his mouth…and set it back down with a sigh.

“Out of the question.” He finally replied, secretly pleased that he had been able to keep his tone neutral. “We’ve gone over this before, Cora.  You are too young.”

“By whose standards?” Cora Zir-El neither shouted nor whined.  Her tone was casual, as if she were merely discussing the current state of the weather. “By Earth standards or Kryptonian?”

Zir-El, the Daxamite Ambassador to Earth and the Daxamite representative on the United Planets ruling council, sighed again. Cora was, in some ways, totally untraditional.  In others, she held on to tradition with a vise-like grip.

One of the ways in which she was traditional was the matter of identity. Granted it was a trait she shared with most of the House of El and the El Family in particular (The House of El consists of several smaller families gathered under the same “House”.), a trait Zir himself did not share.  To him, the past was the past.  Nearly a thousand years of habitation of the planet Daxam made him a Daxamite.  To the others, Daxamites were the previous occupants of the planet.  They, and all those that descended from the enlarged citizens of Kandor were and always would be Kryptonians! The fact that the all the life forms now inhabiting Daxam were Kryptonian did tend to add strength to their traditional stand.

Of course, Cora and the majority of the House of El had good reasons to be traditionalists when it regarded identity.  Both famous and infamous reasons.

“The answer is no, Cora.” Zir shook his head, clearing out the images that rose up to haunt him. “I swear I should have sent you back to Daxam long ago.”

“Perhaps you should have.” Cora surprised him by agreeing. “But you didn’t.”  She didn’t press that.  She knew why he had kept her nearby.  She knew that she was almost a mirror image of her mother…a mother she had barely known before she passed away, along with hundreds and thousands of others throughout the United Planets during the Trlerian Plague.

“Father,” This time Cora did hesitate before she continued. “Father, I am not asking for permission.  I am simply doing you the courtesy of informing you of my decision.”  She placed her eating utensils on her plate and stood. “I have already applied for and been accepted at Metropolis University.  I begin my classes in two weeks. Between now and then I will be moving out of the UP Enclave and taking up residence in the city near the university.”

Zir-El closed his eyes.

“I will not finance this lunacy, Cora.”

“I have not asked you to, father.” Cora cocked her head to one side, as if Zir had uttered a non sequitur, which, in fact, he had.  Though still considered a minor, by Kryptonian standards, Kryptonian law insisted that persons above the age of 15 be fully vested in any inheritance they may have.  Thus, for the past six years, Cora herself had been in complete control, by law, of the inheritance left her by her mother.  She was, by any standard, independently wealthy.

However, since she would be considered a minor for at least six more years, her father could, if he so chose, to petition the Kryptonian courts to have her assets frozen. He could not touch them, but he could, conceivably, keep her from accessing those funds as well.  And her father was not without friends and supporters on Daxam.  She had no doubt that, were he to simply request it, it would be done.

It had been that forethought that had caused her to take precautionary steps.  This was not a spur of the moment decision, but rather one she had planned well for.  Little by little, she had been transferring funds from Daxam, depositing them within an Earth based financial institution.  It was an account that, by Earth laws, could not be touched by her father or Daxamite officials.

Would her father actually do such a thing?  Truthfully, she didn’t know. In the years since her mother’s death, Zir-El had changed.  The caring, loving person he had been, it seemed, had been another victim of the plague.

Cora could not really blame him.  He had filled the void left in his life by Neona’s death with his work.  Throwing himself into his duties with a vengeance.

It was understandable, really.  Especially since she had inadvertently discovered the true horror of the plague that had ravaged the United Planets.

It was a secret the Science Council of Daxam had uncovered…and had chosen not to reveal to the rest of the United Planets.  Indeed, only because Zir was so closely involved was he informed of the findings that, since then, had been expunged from all but the most secure databases.

It had been the communiqué from the Council to their representative on Earth, Zir, that she had seen, before even he had seen it.

The plague had not been a natural phenomenon at all.  But rather a deliberate attempt to wipe out an entire genetic line from Daxam.

It had been the knowledge she had gained that day that had shaped her every thought since then.

When she left the United Planet Enclave, Cora Zir-El would, indeed be listed as a student at Metropolis University.  Her money had already seen to that. 

But it would be Katrine Kent, a dark haired orphan from a heavy world, that entered the Sec-Pol Academy!

Themyscira, Earth

2999 A.D.

“She can stay here no longer.”

Queen Troia of the Amazons bristled but held her tongue.

Seated at the grand conference table in the room behind her throne room, she started first at the captain of her guard, Artemis, and then to her most trusted advisor, Magalla.

“You would have us throw her to the wolves then?” She finally burst out, knowing she was being unfair even as she spoke the words.

“There have been four more attempts, Troia.” Magalla spoke softly.

“Four more attempts we have not been able to prevent, my Queen.” Artemis’ face spoke volumes on her opinion of that.  In all there had been nine attempts, the first of which had left Magalla so burnt and crippled that not even the Purple Ray could heal her completely.  Her ravaged face still bore the scars of that attack, fifteen years earlier.

“Prevent?” Artemis snorted, her disgust at what she considered a personal failure obvious. “We have not even been aware of the attacks until they were upon us.”

“My Queen, sooner or later, one of these attempts will succeed.” Magalla reasoned.  “We must send her away.”

“Why, Magalla?   Why have none of those attempts worked?” Troia leaned forward.

“Because it is her destiny, My Queen.” Artemis surprised her by speaking before Magalla could answer.  She turned to the captain, her raised eyebrows inviting the other to continue.

“We have done what we could, My Queen.” Artemis said. “We have trained her as we can.  She is, indeed a warrior.”

“But?” Troia heard the word, though Artemis had not uttered it.

“But she is not an amazon.” Artemis shook her head. “My Queen.  Let her go.  Let her go to those that have a better chance of protecting her.”

“I do not see that she needs protection.” Troia snapped.  She knew she was being unreasonable and she hoped these two, friends and subjects for many a year, would understand and forgive her. “There have been nine attempts on her life.  Yet not one…not one…has even come close to injuring her.  Not even the first, when she lay in the stasis unit, unable to protect herself!”

“She was protected, Troia.” Magalla shook her head as Troia turned back to her, ready to demand an explanation.

Seeing her advisors expression, Troia knew she would get no answers through any direct questions.  But perhaps….

“If she has been protected thus far, what makes you believe that she will not be protected in the future?”

“Because that is not her destiny.” Magalla answered instantly. “She can be protected only so long.  The rules can be bent for a short time only.”

“What rules?” Troia pounced on the wording. “Who, or what is protecting her, Magalla?”

Magalla tensed, as if it had been a question she had expected yet feared as well.

“My Queen, I cannot say.” She finally admitted.

The room grew silent and finally Trio sighed.

“Very well.” Troia finally admitted. “Where do we send her?”

“You know where she must go, Donna Troy!”

Troia spun in her seat at the sound of the strange, yet hauntingly familiar voice, only mildly surprised at the green glow the filled the room.

Metropolis, North America, Earth

3003 AD

“Okay people, you know the drill.” Captain Maria Santel started her pre-shift briefing of her shift before detailing them to their specific duties and beats. She tapped a few commands into her compad and then glanced up and behind her on the raised stage to make sure the appropriate screen was being displayed on the large viewer behind her.

“We’ve had numerous reports and anonymous tips that Mano has been spotted in Metropolis.” She began, speaking into the silence that had fallen as the helmeted image displayed. “How he got here, past spaceport security, is anyone’s guess.  If he is here.  We will, of course, work on the assumption that he is somewhere in the city.  Remember, if you locate him, do NOT engage. Keep him under observation and call for back up.  We do not want to push him into using that destructive hand of his.  If we are to take him out, it will have to be instantly.” She paused as the screen blanked and shook her head. “On another note, we are still getting reports of strange occurrences with the criminal element.  Most notably, we are still coming across various…persons of interest…some of which have been deposited at the front entrances of several of the precinct stations.”  She read her compad a moment and shook her head again. “But it looks like our mysterious helper slipped up last night.” She looked up at the Sec-Pol officers gathered in front of her. “It seems some one saw something.  A blond woman, flying towards the precinct, carrying an unconscious perp. The woman was dressed in a primarily red, blue, and yellow uniform.”

“I would say some one has been watching to many history holos.” One officer chuckled.

“Probably so.” Captain Santel agreed. “Nevertheless, there is some one out there that, so far, appears to be on our side.  But until we know for sure, keep your eyes peeled. The Brass is very interested in apprehending this person and finding out exactly who she…or he…is and what they want!”  She closed her compad and stuffed it in the left breast pocket of her black and gray uniform. “Okay, that’s it people.  Check your compads for your assignments and let’s get to it.”

She waited as the gathered officers checked their ‘pads and began to head off.  She frowned as her eyes fell on the black haired trainee near the front.  The officer had checked her pad and then snapped it shut in clear anger.

“A problem, Trainee?” She snapped.

“No ma’am.” The trainee responded through tight lips.

“Let me guess.” The Captain stepped down off the stage. “You are not happy about being assigned to the archives again.”

“Permission to speak freely, Ma’am?”

Captain Santel nodded.

“I have been assigned to the archives since I got out of the Academy, Ma’am.   That was six months ago.  All my class mates have already been assigned training officers and have been out on the streets!”

“I am aware of that, Trainee.” Santel nodded.

“Then why am I stuck in archives?  Pushing buttons and answering calls for records?” The trainee’s frustration was obvious. “Begging your pardon, Ma’am, but my scores in the academy were the highest of my class…” She trailed off as the captain shook her head.

“You’re right, Trainee.  Your scores were impressive.  I’ve seen them.” She held up a hand to stop the trainee’s outburst before it occurred. “But we don’t go by those scores alone.  And I have seen your psych-profile.”  The trainee communicated her bewilderment with a mere look and Captain Santel sighed.

“Kent, you psych-profile labels you a hero.  Being a hero is not bad, but out in the streets, in this line of business, being a hero can get you or your partner killed.  Or both.  We can’t afford heroes, Kent.  Yes, restricting you to the archives may seem to be a waste, but it is less of a waste than scraping your body or that of your partner off the pavement because you decide to play hero.”

Santel drew herself up.

“Kent, we can change that trainee status of yours at any time.” She said. “All you have to do is put in for permanent assignment to office duties and it will be approved instantly.  As would a request for an assignment to a crime lab. You have the skills to excel in either.  And both would bring an instant promotion.”

“But….”

“No buts, trainee.”  Santel shook her head. “There may come a time when you are temporarily assigned duties outside these offices…but those times will be rare.  If you insist on remaining a field officer, you might as well resign yourself to spending most of your time in the archives.  Dismissed, trainee.”

Without waiting for a reply, Santel turned and walked off, leaving an angered Kat Kent staring after her.

As the door to her office slid closed behind her, Santel allowed her self the luxury she could not have indulged in while in the trainee’s presence.  She cursed loud and long.

“Feel better, Captain Santel?”

The captain spun, her right hand instinctively going for the side arm she was not wearing.

“Commissioner.” She relaxed, seeing the man seated, cross-legged, in the small couch she kept in her office for those long, over night cases. She was more disturbed at not noticing his presence when she entered the office than she was at blowing off steam in front of him.

“I witnessed your little pep talk to Trainee Kent.” The commissioner informed her.

“Pep talk?” Santel snorted. “Pure bullshit, you mean.” She moved around until she was behind her desk and took a seat. “That girl deserves to be out there, Commissioner. Hell, she’s got the potential to be one of the best officers we’ve had in a long time.”  She shook her head.  “But no.”  She glared at the Commissioner. “Thanks to you, she is stuck in an administrative job. And you have not even given me a clue why!”

“It is rather delicate….” The Commissioner started, stopping when the Captain slapped her hand down on her desk in anger and frustration.

“To hell with delicate, Commissioner.” She pointed towards the door of the office. “I have an officer out there who is not being allowed to utilize her full potential…On your orders.  And I don’t have any delusions, Commissioner.  IF we don’t use her, we’re going to lose her!”

“Perhaps that would be best.” The Commissioner sighed, ignoring the Captains disrespectful outburst.

“For who, Commissioner?” Santel leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “What is it about Kent?  Other than the fact that her name probably isn’t Kent.”

“How do you know that?” The Commissioner seemed close to panic. “Who….”

“No one, Commissioner.  And I didn’t really know it until now.  But I suspected.” Santel held her hands in front of her, palms up. “Kent is an Earther name, and if she is an Earther, then I’m Mother Goose.  Oh, she tried to hide it.  She tried not to show off.  But she couldn’t fool the weight scales nor could she completely hide her strength.  Kent, or whatever her name is, is a heavy worlder.”  She now pointed at the Commissioner. “Is that what this is all about? Is she a plant?  A ….”

The Commissioner cut her off, shaking his head.

“No, Captain.” He sighed. “She is one of the good guys.  And she truly wishes to help…and we both know she has the capability.”  He shook his head. “But we can’t risk it.  We can’t risk her possibly getting hurt, or even killed.”

“Who is she, Commissioner?” Santel insisted, though she was getting the feeling that she probably didn’t really want to know.

“I can’t tell you that, Captain.” The Commissioner told her. “But I can tell you that, if any thing happens to her, it will be a major embarrassment to the Government of Earth.”

“What does she know about this?” Santel demanded as she typed a few commands in her desk console.

“Nothing. She is fully convinced that she was able to create a fool proof identity that would prevent people from realizing who she was.”  The Commissioner actually smiled. “And she almost did it.  I still haven’t figured out exactly how she came so close and I don’t think I ever will.”

Santel raised one eyebrow in question as she tapped another set of commands into her desk unit.

“Oh I have a pretty good idea how she did it.” The commissioner admitted. “However, finding out for sure would entail bringing in others to do the trace.”

Santel stopped her typing and gave the Commissioner her full attention.

“Are you saying you are the only one that knows who she is?”

“I am.” The Commissioner looked smug. “I found it when I reviewed the results of her final pre graduation security check.  Even then, it took a little digging.”  He shook his head. “So you see, Captain.  It is of the utmost importance that we keep this girl out of harm’s way.”

“Begging the Commissioner’s pardon, but I don’t see that at all.” Santel continued on, not allowing the Commissioner an opportunity to object. “This girl is valuable to us and I plan on making use of her.”

“You dare….”

“Yes, Commissioner.” Santel nodded. “I will keep her primarily in Admin, but I will allow her to at least get her feet wet in field work from time to time.  I will insure that she is teamed with a seasoned veteran at all times and will restrict her field work to duties like Spaceport patrol, but I refuse to force her into quitting because some politico thinks she might be an embarrassment.”

“Mark me well, Captain.” The Commissioner stood, his eyes narrowed. “If anything happens to this girl, I will have your job…do you understand me?”

“I understand quite well, Commissioner.” Santel stood as well and indicated the door. “I will do my best to insure that she is kept safe.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”

She waited until the Commissioner had left before taking her seat and staring at the data her desk unit was displaying.  She had played a risky game, talking to the Commissioner in that fashion, but she had to get him out before he inadvertently caught site of the displayed data.

“It seems I was right, Katrina Kent.” She murmured.  While the Commissioner had talked, she had instituted her own search. A search any sec-pol officer could have accomplished, if the right questions were asked.

She had pulled up Kent’s physical description, and had then searched for girls from heavy gravity worlds, currently known to be on Earth, that came close to matching that description.

Surprisingly, the list that came back instantly was larger than she had expected.  Mostly exchange students from other worlds, a few staff members of UP representative, and some on business trips.

The closest match, however, was one she had least expected.  Oh yes…she would make sure she kept a close eye on this one.  But she would be damned if she let the girl stifle. “So what do you think about that, Katrine Kent…”  She smiled thinly at the side-by-side images on her screen…one the black haired Kent and the other…. “Or should I say, Cora Zir-El?”

The Captain closed her eyes and so missed the slight green glow that surrounded her desk unit briefly and then faded.

Themyscira, Earth

3003 A.D.

“Tell me about lies, Magalla.”

Magalla closed her eyes, shutting out the vision of the statue of Hera before which she knelt.

She had sensed the girl’s presence. Had sensed that she was in turmoil and that the turmoil was directed toward her. Her and the amazons.

She had had gone about her duties as High Priestess, leaving the girl to her thoughts.  She would speak, would announce her presence, when she was ready.

This was not, however, the question she had expected.  Still…

“I don’t know….”

“My memories, Magalla.  They are lies.  And you knew it, didn’t you?”

The girl stepped out of the shadows, the sunlight streaming though the grand openings in the ceiling, revealing the deep green hue of her skin, sparkling in her golden hair, flashing in her red eyes. Magalla saw none of this with her own eyes and with a start she realized she was seeing the girl through the eyes of the statue of Hera.  Hera, the mother goddess was responsible for this.  The one that had made it possible…and necessary…oh so long ago.

Magalla sighed and opened her eyes, making her way painfully to her feet before turning to face the girl.

“Yes.” She nodded, drawing her self up. “Though I would not call them lies, my child.”

“What would you call them, Magalla?” The girl…no…the young woman…strode forward until she stood before the mage/priestess. “Fantasies? They are lies, Magalla.  They are memories of things that never happened…memories of a life that I never lived.  If they are not lies, then what are they Magalla?” She did not give Magalla a chance to answer. “Why, Magalla?  Why did you not tell me?  Why did you let me believe that what I thought were memories were simple images…falsehoods…fed to me while I lay in a stasis chamber.”  She shook her head. “For how long, Magalla?  A thousand years?”

“Close.” Magalla nodded. “And you were awakened too early.  You should just now be coming out of stasis…but that choice was not ours.”

“I don’t give a damn, Magalla!” The young woman did not quite shout.  “Can you even begin to understand what it was like to learn that the happy child hood I remembered…never happened?  That the parents who brightened my memories….were dead and gone?  Dust.”

“You don’t know that.” Magalla countered.

“What else could be the truth, Magalla?” The woman hissed. “How many people, other than those on this island, could live for a thousand years?”  She shook her head. “I’ve seen my father’s record, Magalla.  I know he died less than fifty years after I was placed in stasis.”

“Yes.” Magalla sighed. “Lar Gand did die. He died in one of the earlier battles of the so-called Continuum Wars.  But your mother….”

“Mothers, Magalla.  Two of them.  Two mothers, Magalla?”

“Three, actually.” Magalla squared her shoulders. “Jennifer Gand, Arisia Gand, and I am sure that you picked up something from Barbara Gordon.  Barbara Gordon lived a rich, full, if childless life.”

“Oh yes.” The young woman sneered. “Barbara Gordon-Stark.  I learned of her too, Magalla.  The rich heiress of Stark-Wayne industries, after her husband died.  And whom she followed to the grave a mere five years later. She left Stark-Wayne in trust, Magalla.  Imagine my surprise to discover that it was you whom she named administer of that trust! Why, Magalla?”

“ENOUGH!”

Both Magalla and the young woman whirled as Queen Troia advanced through the temple towards them.  Her stride was full of anger and she did not stop until she stood face to face with the young woman.

“You will not speak to Magalla like this again…do you understand me?”

“I will not be treated like a child!” the woman snarled.

“Then stop acting like one, Jensia!” Troia growled back. “And I will not hear you disparage the memories of those I called friends.” She took a deep breath. “Jensia, Magalla has indeed administered Stark-Wayne over the centuries.  Waiting for you.  Stark-Wayne is yours…because you are the closest thing to a child that Barbara Gordon-Stark ever had.” She moved closer until her flesh colored nose nearly touched Jensia’s green one. “But that is not what you want to hear, is it?  You want to hear an apology for not taking away from you the one thing that was truly yours…memories of parents you could never know in waking life.  You will not get it, Jensia.  Lar, Arisia, and Jenny were all relieved to know that you would have something of them, even if they could not give it to you themselves.  And you do this.  You play a pity game and blame Magalla.” 

Troia studied the sullen woman for a moment.

“But you are right…I think it is time you learned the truth of your birth…the full truth.”  She turned to Magalla. “If I am not mistaken, you sealed the room?”

“I did.” Magalla nodded.

“Then it is time to break those seals.  I want Jensia to see it all!”

Magalla stared at her queen for a moment and finally nodded.

“This way.”

She touched the altar that lay before the statue of Hera in four areas and waited until the massive stone construction slid slowly to the side to reveal a black maw descending into the depths below the temple.

Leading the way, her magic providing light, she led both Troia and Jensia downward, passing room after room until she stood before a set of sealed doors.

Working quickly and deftly, she removed the seals and pushed the door open.

As she entered the room, Jensia gasped.  Scattered here and there were the skeletal remains of several amazons. Beyond them, pushed into a slight alcove, a burnt and blasted stasis unit stood empty.

“Here is where you were born, Jensia.” Troia spoke again. “Here is where these woman, all acolytes of Magalla, died in their attempt to save you.  And it was here that Magalla nearly died as well.” She stepped over to the stasis unit.

“If this is the case, then why didn’t whoever did this kill me or take me?”

“Because they were not after you, Jensia.  They got what they wanted, and they did try to destroy you.”  Magalla answered. “They got your sister, but figured you would be a liability.”

“Sister?” Jensia rocked back on her heels.

“Sister.” Troia nodded.

Jensia listened as Magalla took up the explanation, using words and a series of pictures she conjured in the air.

With her heart near to breaking, she watched as Jennifer Walters-Gand and Arisia arrived on Themyscira, searching for a way to save Jenny and Lar’s baby. (Authors note: See MVP1-15: After the Fire) She watched and learned as Jenny and Arisia merged to form Senturia and as Barbara Gordon-Stark was accidentally pulled into that union.  She learned how the yellow radiation that poisoned Arisia’s body and the mystical energies supplied by the Purple Healing ray and Hera were used to cleanse the baby of the lead poisoning that threatened to kill it as well as make it immune to any future exposure to the element so deadly to Daxamites.

She saw the anguish that shown clearly in the faces of both Jenny and Arisia as they learned that the cure would be slow…that the baby, hardly more than an embryo, would have to grow over a period of centuries.

She watched with narrowed eyes as the embryo, stored deep within the temple in a special stasis unit, performed the unexpected and impossible by splitting…becoming two individual entities.

She saw the children develop over the years.  One developing the green skin of Jenny and blonde hair of Arisia, with bright red eyes, constantly enveloped in a slight green glow of energy.

The other becoming the exact opposite.  Her skin a deep violet, her hair blue, her eyes a malevolent yellow while yellow energy played over her body. For reasons she could not put a finger on, Jensia felt a wave of hatred flow through her emotions. The images showed that the children were always as far apart form each other as they could get in the stasis unit. As if their separate energies repelled each other.

“We called her Aisenj.” Troia cut in. “It was some time before we were able to discover that the very yellow radiation that saved you, also created her.”

“We should have realized something like this would have to happen.” Magalla admitted. “The yellow radiation could not remain in your system or it would have surely poisoned you as it did Arisia.  Perhaps we could have drawn the radiation out, perhaps not.  The point is now moot.”  She sighed. “That radiation, a product of tremendous evil, sought for years to destroy Arisia and only the energy of the Starheart, and later Jennifer Gand, held it at bay.  That day, when she and Jennifer Gand joined to give you a chance of life, the poison was cleansed from her system. And she, Aisnej, is the result.  She is that poison given life of its own.”

“Why….” Jensia swallowed the lump in her throat before trying again. “Why would anyone take her?”

“Because of her potential.” Troia answered. “And she had to be taken before we were forced to make a decision on what to do about her.”

“Do?”

“Jensia, we could not have allowed something like that free in this world.” Troia answered honestly. “The best thing we could have done for this galaxy would have been to destroy her before she was born.” She shook her head. “We knew this…but it was not something we could do.  We had hoped to leave her in stasis…forever.”

“But she was taken…and they tried to destroy me!” Jensia breathed.

“Yes.” Magalla answered. “She is out there, somewhere, daughter.  Being trained for who knows what evil.  They tried to kill you…because the two of you cancel each other out…or so we believe will be the case.”

“So why didn’t I die?” Jensia tried to push the thought of Aisnej from her mind.

“We don’t know.” Troia answered, shooting Magalla a dark look. “There have been eight other attempts…and each time you have been protected.”

“Twelve attempts.” Jensia correct softly. “There were four more attempts during my training on Oa. Two of them engineered by Green Lanterns.”

“What?” Troia gripped the girl’s arm.

“They were traitors.” Jensia nodded. “After the second attempt, the Guardians performed a purge of the Corps.  Nearly a third of the corps had turned…without them knowing it.”

“How could that happen?” Troia, familiar with the ways of the Green Lanterns, demanded.

“Because two of the Guardians themselves were traitors.  Working with…Qward.”

“Qward.”  Troia closed her eyes. “Will we never have an end to those….” She trailed off, visibly taking control of her emotions.

“I believe we now know who took Aisnej.” Magalla spat.

“Possibly.”  Troia nodded and then looked to Jensia. “Now you know the truth, daughter.  There was no attempt to deceive you.  Merely a desire to protect you.  If we were wrong, then so be it.”

There was silence and then Jensia nodded.

“So…is that the only reason you have returned from Oa?” Troia finally asked.

“No.” Jensia shook her head. “I have to go to the Metropolis Megaplex.”  She shrugged at the inquisitive looks. “I don’t know why.  I know only that I have to go there.  I was…told…to go there.  Whatever is going to happen to me next…will happen there.”

“Told?” Troia tensed.  “Who told you?”

“A voice.” Jensia smiled. “A voice I have never heard before …until today.”

She looked at Magalla and pointed to one of the mystical pictures that still hung in the air.  The picture that had given sight and sound of that day so long ago.

“It was her voice!” 

Troia looked and gasped…for the picture had frozen on a close up of…Senturia!

Metropolis, North America, Earth

3004 AD

Home.

Katrine Kent relaxed as the entrance to her three-room domicile slid closed behind her.

She paused, as she had so many times over the past year since she had graduated from the academy, and looked around.  She was, first and foremost, checking for signs that anyone, anyone at all, had been in here while she was out and, secondly, musing about the state she now lived in.

She could have easily afforded a place in the most expensive neighborhoods.  Such places were, however, beyond the means of a mere rookie Sec-Pol Officer. It would be bound to attract unwanted attention.  Especially if some one took a notion to investigate.  Her forged records showed that she was an orphan child of an upper lower class family.

There would be no way she could logically explain how such a money poor individual could afford the most luxurious of homes.

Of course the cover was far from the truth.

As Cora Zir-El, she would never be needy in a financial sense.  Never.

Certainly the El family, the “ruling” family of the House of El, were wealthy in their own rights.  Yet in the years since Kandor was enlarged on Daxam, the Tu Family, traditionally one of the lesser families in the House of El, had pulled far in front of all the other families, in or out of the House of El, as far as wealth was concerned.

Much of that wealth derived from the inventions that seemed to flow forth from the Tu Family ever since Kori Zor-El, or Karen Dox as she had been known back then, retired to Daxam and married Mak Tu.  A surprising turn of events, according to the History Holos, for it had been thought she would marry Kim El.  And well she would have…had he not died in the same attack on Daxam that had taken the lives of so many…including that of Lar Gand.

It had been the Tu family that had developed the El-Tu Hyperspatial drive and the El-Tu Hyperspatial communications system.

With the new drives, ships could travel across vast interstellar distances in mere days.  The El-Tu drives were not as effected by a star’s gravity well as much as were the outmoded Hyperdrives so even in-system travel was reduced from weeks to days.

The communication system, however, was an innovation.  These new systems allowed almost instant communication throughout the area of space claimed by the United Planets Federation.  Before that, communication was restricted to how fast a courier ship could travel from system to system. Of course, the instant communication afforded to the Green Lanterns due to their rings had not been counted as a general communication system.

Yet both the Communication system and the Ship drives had been far more than they appeared. Both allowed either travel and communication to and from the different Known Probabilities.  Communication was almost instant with the Inheritors Universe, Otherverse, and Alterverse as well.

Of course, the El-Tu Drive had turned out to be a curse every bit as much as the Communication System had been their salvation.

For well over a hundred years, trade and travel between the various Known Probabilities had flourished…until 2984.

That year, the year Cora had turned six years old, as counted in Terran Years, saw the onslaught of the most horrendous calamity to befall the entire galaxy.  The Trilian Plague! A malicious attempt to wipe out the El Family, the plague began mutating from the very beginning.  Initially, or so it was believed, geared specifically to target Kryptonians, it quickly mutated until it devastated any who come in contact with the deadly pestilence. And it was through the use of the El-Tu Hyperspatial drive that the plague found it’s way to the other Known Probabilities.

A cure was found…but not before two entire probabilities were wiped of all higher life forms.  Probabilities six and Seven (previously known as Earth-4 and Earth-S before being pulled into the Multiverse) were massive death traps, quarantined by all the remaining Known Probabilities.  For here, in these two Probabilities, the Plague still ran rampant, evolving, seething, mutating.  It was still a mystery why the Plague, though still deadly, did not take a high toll in lives in all the Probabilities, though there was some speculation that only the original three Probabilities were so devastated, while those that had been grafted into the Multivese so long ago were naturally resistant.

Even so, it had taken the combined efforts of Probabilities One and Four, with massive support from The Inheritors Universe and Otherverse before the plague was brought under control. 

The toll in lives had been in the billions in Probability One before the cure was developed in Probability Four and distributed.

One of those lives had been Cora’s mother.  When the dust had cleared, it was discovered that, though the House of El still stood, The Tu Family was no more.  Cora herself was the sole remainder of that once noble family.  The sole survivor…and the sole heir.

Cora tried to clear the images of those dreadful days from her mind as she walked through the domicile, still looking for signs of illegal entry.

She was, however, still lost in the memories of those dark days when a sharp buzzer sounded, indicating that some one was at the entrance of her domicile.

Shaking her head, she reached for the nearest comm. Unit and set the visual to a point above the outer entrance and blanched.  She had a visitor alright! Commissioner Maria Santel!

Cora shuddered.  She had been there, that day months ago, when Durlan terrorists had attacked the Spaceport.  There to give a speech to the graduating class of ’04, the Commissioner of that time had died instantly under a hail of laser fire.

Cora had gritted her teeth when then Captain Santel had gripped her arm and guided her out.  They had become involved in a firefight, despite the Captain’s efforts to remove her from the scene…all the while Cora chafing…she could have handled it all so quickly…if only she had been able to get away from the Captain.

And now, that same woman, the one the Metropolis division of EarthGov had named the new Commissioner, now stood patiently at the entrance of her domicile…waiting to be let in, the expression on her face giving away nothing.

Gathering herself, she buried Cora and it was Kat who walked to the entrance and palmed it open.

“Commissioner Santel….” She began, cutting off as the Commissioner brushed past her.

“Close it, Kent.” The Commissioner ordered over her shoulder as she strode into the main living room.

Kat did as she was ordered and, completely mystified, followed the Commissioner.

“Have you seen or heard any news since you went off duty, Kent?” The Commissioner demanded, her narrowed eyes boring into Kat.

“No, Ma’am.” Kat began to answer. “I just…”

“Good.” The Commissioner took a breath and then motioned for Kat to take a seat. “Sit down, Kent.”

She waited until a confused Kat complied.

“Something has happened, Kent.” The Commissioner began. “There’s no easy way to say this, so here it is. There’s been another terrorist attack.  This time at the UP Enclave.”

Kat sat up straight; already denying what she knew was coming next.

“Four compounds were completely destroyed, Kat.  One of them the Daxam Compound.   I’m sorry Kat, but Ambassador Zir-El is dead.”

Kat jumped to her feet before her mind registered her actions and was already moving towards the entrance.

“Cora, no!”

The Commissioner’s sharp command cut through the shock induced fog in Cora’s mind.  She stopped in mid stride.

“You know.” Her voice sounded wooden to her own ears.  Detached as if it were some one else talking.

“I’ve known for over a year, Cora Zir-El.”  The Commissioner nodded.  “That is why I wanted to be the one to break the news.  Because I believe I am the only one that has a hope of stopping you from doing something stupid!”

“Stupid?” Cora was still too stunned to feel anger.

“Stupid.” Santel closed the distance between them and deftly worked her way between Cora and the entrance. “Cora…no, let’s keep it Kat for now.  Kat, your father was not the target.  Three other ambassador’s and their families died as well.  But they weren’t the targets either.  It was you they were after, Kat.  You!”

“Me?”

“Come off it, Kat.” The Commissioner’s voice softened. “You might be in shock…in a natural state of denial…but you are not stupid.  And neither is EarthGov.  You Daximites might think you were able to keep it undercover, but we damned well know that the Trilian Plague was aimed at your family!  And we know why.” 

“I don’t…What!” She watched, almost helplessly as Santel’s hand dropped to the blaster in her holster, drew the weapon and, at point blank range, fired!

The energy blast struck her in the chest, splashing off and dissipating!

Kat stood there, the outer layers of her uniform burnt away, revealing parts of a blue, red, and yellow uniform beneath.  And the telltale sigil…the big Red S, as the Terrans had called it centuries ago.  The symbol of the House of El.  The emblem of…Supergirl!

The confusion, the sense of betrayal, the news of the tragedy, all took their toll.  Cora Zir-El felt her defenses begin to crumble.  She began to sag and suddenly Santel was there.

Strong as the Commissioner might have been, her strength was no match for the weight of a Daxamite…no, a Kryptonian…going limp. Quickly, she moved the young woman to a couch and guided her down, easing down beside her.

As the sun sank into the west, as darkness enveloped the city, Commissioner Santel crooned softly, gently rocking the sobbing woman-child in her arms.

MVP1-16

Marie Santel pushed away from her desk, rubbing her eyes.

It had been a long evening.  She had sat for hours with the distraught, grief stricken Cora before the young woman had drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Santel had then returned to her personal flitter, retrieving the Sec-Pol uniform she had brought for this express purpose.  It wouldn’t do for any one to get curious about laser burns on a uniform that should have left the person wearing them rapidly cooling in death.  Next she had left a message on Kat’s personal comm. unit.  She was to take the next day off from work.  Instead, when she awoke, she was to contact Santel directly and arrange a meeting.  Santel had already cleared the requested time off.  It might look a little suspicious to see the Commissioner signing off on such a request from a mere officer barely out of the academy, but no one would question it.  Or rather, she hoped they wouldn’t. 

She had left the code to her personal comm. so Kat would not have to go through the regular channels, the fewer people that could put a connection between them, the better.

After that, she had returned here, to her office, rather than go to her own domicile.  There was still much to do and would be until all the investigations into the bombing of the UP Enclave had been concluded.

But now the words on the screen were beginning to blur and she knew that she had just about reached her limit.

Moving slowly, naturally, she rubbed her eyes and, when she dropped her hands, her right just happened to fall onto the butt of her blaster.

With a subtle flick of her thumb, she unsnapped the safety strap.

With a deft movement, the weapon was out, resting in her hand on the desktop.

“I know you are here.” She spoke aloud. “You’ve been watching me since I got here.  Now show yourself!”

Whatever she might have expected, what then occurred was not it.

There, in the center of the room, a small green mist appeared, glowing gently.

“Who…what are you?” Santel forced herself not to aim the blaster at the mist.

The glow within the mist pulsed faintly and Santel paled.

“No.  That’s impossible!”  She breathed.  The mist pulsed again and despite herself, Santel nodded.

“Okay.  What…what is it you want?”

The mist pulsed yet again and Santel nodded again, turning to her comp screen.

“Show me.” She demanded.

The mist moved until it enveloped the comp screen and Santel watched as it came to life on its own. Hundreds of pictures and holos flashed on the screen at a pace to fast for Santel to even register before it stopped, a single picture centered on the screen.  The image enlarged and Santel studied the figure.

“Who is she?” She demanded.  The mist pulsed.  This time Santel didn’t nod.  Instead, she continued to study the image.

“Jensia.” She finally spoke the name of the person in the image. The mist moved away from the comp screen and pulsed again and Santel looked up, her eyes narrowing.

“What do you mean she is not the only one under your protection? Who else is….” Her words cut off as the mist pulsed and then faded from sight altogether.

Staring at the now empty room, Santel shook her head.  The next few weeks would be very busy…and extremely interesting.

She typed a few commands, retrieving the last known location of the woman named Jensia and then did a complete wipe.  She should have guessed.   There, at the last, a single name had entered her mind.  Cora!

End of Part 1 of A New Generation

 

-- Story written and copyrighted (C) 2004 by Dylan Clearbrook

-- and may not be reprinted without permission.