Announcement

**Female Hawk** · 04-26-2012, 04:41 PM

Part 1b

At gunpoint, Lois was taken to high-ceilinged, austere building. It was dingy and cold. She was forced the length of it — to the front where an old man in a white robe awaited her.

For the next few minutes, the old man droned on and on as everyone else stood silently. It appeared to be some sort of ceremony.

A pre-funeral?

Was she being prepared for death?

Offered to their gods?

Lois stood quietly, uncomfortably aware that the two soldiers had their weapons trained on her. To her right, slightly in front of her, was a large bin. Lois could feel the warmth emanating from it. She surreptitiously edged sideways, hoping to get a little closer to the heat source. The point of a weapon knocked against the right side of her head, and she teetered back.

When the old man had finished his oration, he moved to the bin and withdrew a long iron from it. The end of the iron — the end that had been in the fire — emerged from the bin, glowing red. He approached Lois with purpose, and she gasped.

She wanted to scream, to run, to kick, to bite … but her searing terror had paralysed every part of her body.

One of the soldiers lifted her right arm towards the old man, who pressed the end of the iron onto the back of her hand.

Lois screamed as the world reeled. She swayed. From behind, someone grasped her, steadying her.

It took what seemed like a long, long time for her brain to register that there was no pain.

The red glowing iron was on her hand — held there by the combined efforts of the soldier and the old man.

But there was no pain. Pressure, but no pain.

They removed the iron from her hand and returned it to the fire bin. Lois examined her hand. Emblazoned upon it was an irregular five-sided shape around the letter ‘S’.

A slither of logical thought struggled to surface from amidst the haze of her confusion. Why, when they didn’t use recognisable sounds to communicate, did they use a letter from the English alphabet as a symbol?

What did this ‘S’ signify?

This had to be some sort of ceremony. The old guy was officiating. The soldiers were there to keep her in line. Lois couldn’t shake the idea that she had just been … processed.

Did it include her in something? Or exclude her?

Would they brand her if they intended to kill her?

And what could possibly have given them the notion that this was acceptable?

When she got back to Metropolis, someone would pay for this.

***

Lois was taken from the ceremonial building and across a bleak courtyard to a row of parallel rooms — three on each side. She was led to the last room on the left and shunted into it.

The door was closed and locked.

Lois looked around her new room. Her first impression brought tears to her eyes. It was warm. Not hot, but warm, certainly.

And there was a bed. It had a thin mattress, a flat, limp pillow, and a thin, rough length of material that could just about pass as a sheet. Lois took it from the bed, folded it in half, and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She inspected her hand. It was red and blotchy. It looked sore. It wasn’t.

Lois gingerly prodded the edge of the ‘S’. She couldn’t feel her own touch. Clearly, it had been numbed.

Was that the purple stuff Mr Top Banana had put on her hand?

And exactly how much would it hurt when the numbing agent wore off?

There was a closet in the room. Lois opened the door. Her clothes were there! Her jeans and shirt and jacket. Even her socks and shoes. Two grey gowns — similar to those worn by the old woman — hung below the shelf, and … most wonderful of all … a long, thick coat.

Lois discarded the sheet and put on the coat. Immediately she felt more comfortable — less exposed and warmer, too.

She lay on the bed and covered herself with the sheet.

She was hungry. But there was nothing in the room that could possibly be food.

Confused. But she had no way to communicate with these strange, robotic people.

Homesick. But right now, she could do nothing about getting home.

Weary. She had a bed … she might as well sleep.

Lois closed her eyes, stilled her mind, and allowed exhaustion to overwhelm her.

***

Lois was woken by the woman who had brought her the white dress. Before Lois could properly piece together where she was and how she’d gotten there, she became aware of the persistent throbbing of her hand. She sat up from the bed and examined it in the dim light.

The mark was red and raised.

The woman prodded Lois and gestured for her to follow. Once outside the room, Lois looked behind her for the soldiers. She was alone with the old woman.

She toyed with the idea of running away. She was confident she could outrun the old woman. But then what?

The cluster of buildings was surrounded by a high wall. Four armed soldiers guarded the gates.

With a defeated sigh, Lois followed meekly.

They crossed the courtyard — it had no flowers, or grass, or decoration of any sort — passed the two sentinels at the door, and entered Mr Top Banana’s place.

Thirty seconds later, Lois was alone with him in his room. She faced him, waiting.

In his hand, he held another syringe filled with the purple substance. He approached Lois, and she lifted her hand to him. He squirted the gel onto the ‘S’ symbol, and Lois tensed, anticipating the stinging sensation.

It came, but it was much milder than the first time.

Again, he rubbed it into her hand — with all the emotional connection of a man tying his shoelaces. At first, she could feel his touch, but he didn’t cause her any extra pain. Then, the gel began its work, and the discomfort began to fade away.

“Why did you do this to me?” Lois demanded.

He’d heard her. His eyes lifted from her hand and to her face.

He replied — in the same guttural grunts she’d heard before — but he didn’t stop working the gel into her hand. By the time he’d finished, the throbbing had completely subsided.

“Why did you do this to me?” Lois repeated angrily.

Her wrath had no effect. His face remained inscrutable. He began the noises again, but Lois cut across them.

“Why?” she shouted, allowing her fear and her indignation and her confusion to eke into that one word. “Who are you to think you can disfigure me like this?”

He stared back, not even attempting to answer her question.

She pointed to her hand, and then raised both hands, palm up in a gesture of ‘Why?’

He barked something loudly, and the old woman returned to escort Lois to her room.

As soon as they arrived in her room, the woman left. Lois noticed a metallic bowl with a meagre helping of the green stuff she’d seen in her first room. Beside it was a stick — beige in colour, cylindrical in shape, and about three inches long and half an inch wide. One end was tinged green — looking far too much like mould to be appetising.

However, Lois was hungry.

And it seemed this could … possibly … be food.

And as she had no way of even communicating her desire to go home — let alone actually achieving that — and as she had to eat something, she probably should try it.

She picked up the stick. It was hard — like very stale bread. She touched the end of it on her tongue. It had no discernable taste.

There were no implements to assist in eating the green gunk, so Lois dipped the end of the stick into it. The mucousy substance clung to the end of the stick like a thickened dip.

Grimacing, Lois tested it with the tip of her tongue.

It didn’t taste disgusting. It had a mild flavour … vaguely reminding her of ricotta cheese. If she ignored the colour, it was edible.

She hoped so, anyway.

Lois ate the remainder of the green stuff. She then looked at the stick. Was she supposed to eat it, too?

The end she had used to slurp up the gunk was now stained a deeper green colour and had softened.

Tentatively, she bit off part of it. She chewed, and it disintegrated into a sandy consistency. There was nowhere to spit it out, so Lois swallowed.

It was a little gritty, but other than that, not too bad at all.

**TeamClois** · 04-26-2012, 05:01 PM

Yay, you've posted your new story! So far I am intrigued by Lois' arrival on New Krypton. I'm not sure how yet, but I hope Lois And Mr. Top Banana will be able to communicate with each other soon cause I'm dying to know what they did to her upon her arrival.

Update soon!

**ForeverCKLL** · 04-26-2012, 05:11 PM

More please, can't wait to see where this is going! I hope some of Lois' questions will be answered soon.

**bigvillir001** · 04-26-2012, 05:17 PM

More please im hooked

**MariVe** · 04-26-2012, 05:39 PM

No Lois is the alien being held captive, but in this case Clark isn't understanding, he's the bad guy...Why did they marked her?? And when are they going to be able to comunicate??Update soon, I can't stop liking it!!!

**GreenTea19** · 04-26-2012, 05:53 PM

Yes your new story!! *settles in with popcorn and waits for an update*

**ChlarkForever87** · 04-26-2012, 10:31 PM

Love it so far! very interesting!

Almost an exact opposite of ur last story!!!

Can't wait to see them communicate, however that may be!!!

**Female Hawk** · 04-27-2012, 02:28 AM

Part 2a

Kal-El lived by routines.

Every evening, between supper and bed, he dedicated two hours to the Disputes, and then one hour to researching and considering solutions to the numerous problems faced by his people.

The Disputes came first — always. He would carefully read the submissions from all antagonists, think through the issue, consult Kryptonian Law if he deemed it necessary, and then record his orders. On a good night, he could get through six Disputes.

Tonight was not a good night.

He had only thirteen minutes left, and he hadn’t even finished reading the first submission from the first Dispute.

It wasn’t a particularly long submission, or particularly complex.

But he was finding it particularly difficult to stay focussed on his task.

His mind kept drifting away.

To the alien woman.

She was a woman.

That in itself was disconcerting.

It had made him realise how little interaction he had with women. All his servants were male. All his soldiers were male. All his Cabinet was male. On the rare occasion when he felt he couldn’t settle a Dispute from the information given in the submissions and requested to see the antagonists, they were generally male. Even when the Dispute involved a woman, her father, husband, or brother would accompany her and speak for her.

Kal’s Mistress of Concubines was female — though he saw her only rarely and his infrequent orders to her were mostly relayed via one of his servants. And she was old and worn. If she’d ever had an aura of femininity, it had withered long ago.

Unlike the alien woman.

Kal’s wife was a woman.

Za, of the House of Ra, was a woman. He’d married her when he was sixteen — ten winters ago. It had been his duty — as inescapable as his nightly obligation to the Disputes. Since the ceremony, he’d seen her once a year at the Nobility Convention.

He’d never spoken to her. He’d said his vows — but not to her, to the Officiator. He didn’t remember even looking at her that much.

Yet it had required conscious effort to tear his eyes from the alien woman.

Kal regarded the folder in his hand, uncomfortably aware of his lack of progress. The pile of Disputes awaiting his judgement seemed to grow exponentially every week.

Again Kal forced his attention to the hand-written submission. But his mind had drifted before he reached the end of the first line.

Where was she from?

Was she alone?

Was she here by accident? Or intention?

Did she represent a threat to his people? His planet?

Kal glanced to the clock on the wall. Four minutes left. There was no way he could settle this Dispute tonight. He simply couldn’t do it justice in four minutes. He waited for the time to pass and then closed the folder and returned it to the top of the large pile.

The third hour of his evening was devoted to investigating possible solutions to the seemingly insurmountable problems faced by his people. Foremost was their ever-dwindling water supply.

Then the lack of fuel for heating. Full winter was still two months away, and his people were cold already.

Kal didn’t know how he was going to provide heating for his people. He didn’t know where he was going to source water so they could increase their crops and manage their stock. He didn’t know how he was going to feed his people.

He knew from past experience that those who were sick or weak or old — those past forty years — would almost certainly not survive the long, arduous winter.

How did her people do it?

Did they face similar problems?

Did they have solutions?

Suddenly, an idea invaded his thoughts. An idea so unconventional, his mind whirled.

The idea took root and began to grow.

There would be opposition, Kal knew that. His Cabinet would not approve. Not without weeks of congested discussion.

But the idea was justifiable.

Radical.

But justifiable.

And they didn’t have weeks. It needed to be done now.

With firm resolve, Kal rose from the chair at his desk and pushed the button, summoning his servant. Seconds later, Tek rushed in. “Sir,” he said.

“Arrange for the Translator to be inserted in C4,” Kal ordered. “Tomorrow morning.”

“We have one remaining Translator,” Tek said. “And we do not have the capability to manufacture more.”

“Will it still function?” Kal asked.

“It’s uncertain after this length of time.”

“I want it done tomorrow,” Kal said. “Inform the Surgeon he is to begin immediately following breakfast.”

“There will be opposition,” Tek said.

“Yes,” Kal agreed. “But once it is done, it is done.”

“As you order.”

Tek left Kal’s chambers, and immediately, Kal’s thoughts returned to the alien woman.

If the Translator were still viable, he would be able to communicate with her.

If he could communicate with her, he could access any knowledge she might have — knowledge that could be significant in their battles against the harsh environment.

Knowledge that could mean the difference between survival and extinction.

That was his justification.

That was why he was ordering it without consulting his Cabinet.

It was for the good of all Kryptonians.

***

The next morning, Lois was awoken by the bland woman. She walked from the room and gestured for Lois to follow. As she did, Lois looked to the little table. It was bare. Apparently, she was to have no breakfast … unless she was being taken somewhere else for breakfast.

To Mr Top Banana, maybe?

Unlikely, she realised.

He was important. She could tell that from the way others brown-nosed him. And if the guards outside his building were anything to go by, his safety was a high priority.

Either that or they really didn’t want him to escape.

Lois doubted he would dine with foreign prisoners.

Two soldiers — unarmed — met them in the courtyard and each took one of Lois’s arms.

She was marched to an unfamiliar section of Mr Top Banana’s building and into a bare, cold room containing a large table. Two other men entered, their eyes peering out from above the masks covering their lower faces. The soldiers lifted Lois bodily and placed her on the table and then forced her to turn onto her right side.

There was something unyielding in their actions — something sombre in the atmosphere. Lois wasn’t scared … exactly … but her heart was pounding. “What are you doing to me?” she asked, knowing it was pointless, but unable to stop herself.

They held her while three belts were tightened across her — one at her shoulders, one at her waist, and one at her knees — securing her to the table. Lois began to struggle, but the belts had no give. She reached for the belt across her shoulder and tried to push it away. One of the soldiers captured her hands and held them securely in the pit of her stomach.

Lois couldn’t move.

She was trapped.

Like an animal.

There were four of them and one of her.

“I am a citizen of the United -” she began.

One of the masked men came into her vision, holding a razor blade and a sponge. Someone from behind Lois clamped her head against the table. The masked man dampened the hair above her left ear and then proceeded to shave her. The moist strands fell onto her nose and cheeks. Lois fought against the rising need to lash out. She must not move — not with the razor blade on her scalp.

What were they going to do to her?

Then she saw him — the second of the masked men. He was holding a drill.

Icy panic burned through her veins. They were going to drill into her head.

Lois screamed. She drew breath and screamed again, her control shattered.

Then above her screams, she heard a bellow.

The masked man with the drill backed away, and Lois saw Mr Top Banana. He barked something. He seemed displeased, although there was nothing indicating anger on his still-dispassionate face. The masked men studied the floor.

Mr Top Banana waited … maybe for an answer … but none was forthcoming. With another growl, he turned and left the room.

“Come back,” Lois screeched. “Please! Come back. Don’t leave me with these monsters.”

The men continued staring at the floor. Lois waited, her breath ragged, her heart hurtling around her ribcage.

Finally, after what seemed like a long, long time — but was probably less than a minute — Mr Top Banana returned, holding a half-sphere attached by a tube to a bulging balloon of clear plastic. He approached the table without so much as a glance to the four men and placed the half-sphere over Lois’s nose and mouth.

His brown eyes looked down on her. And then she saw no more.

***

Lois gradually became aware of her consciousness. The bed beneath her was soft. She was warm.

What a dream! The spaceship crash, the strange country, the remote people, the weird food, the language of grunts, Mr Top Banana, being branded, being shaved, being threatened with a drill to her head. Whoa!

Lane, she admonished herself, you needta eat less Rocky Road ice-cream just before going to bed.

Lois opened her eyes and gasped. She was not in the comforting familiarity of her bedroom in her apartment in Metropolis.

Instead, she was in an unknown room. The decor — brown mud on concrete walls — reminded her of the room where she had seen Mr Top Banana.

But this was a different room. And she was on … actually, in … a bed.

Lois slid tentative fingertips across the back of her right hand. She traced the slight undulations of the pentagon and the ‘S’ inside it.

So, it wasn’t a dream.

She really had crashed in a foreign country. They really had branded her.

But why was she in this bed?

It didn’t seem like a hospital — not that she was expecting a hospital to be in any way like something she would be familiar with — but this was someone’s bed … someone’s double bed.

Whose bed?

Mr Top Banana’s?

Where was he?

And what had he done to her while she was unconscious?

Lois felt her body under the covers, relieved to discover she was still wearing the white dress.

Then other memories flooded back, and she gasped.

Had they drilled the hole in her head?

With quivering apprehension, Lois reached for her left cheek and skimmed past the protrusion of her ear. Where there should have been strands of hair, there was a small bandage. Beyond its edges, she could feel a thin strip of bare scalp.

So they had shaved her. And then performed some sort of procedure on … or in … her head.

The door opened, and Mr Top Banana strode in.

He gathered the chair from the desk and sat next to her bed. He scrutinised her for a long moment, his face vacuous. His mouth opened. “Hello,” he said.

Lois lurched to a sitting position, disregarding the possibility of a backlash from the trauma inflicted on her head. She stared at him, eyes wide, as she hauled the bedding up to her throat.

“Hello,” he repeated. His voice had a robotic tinniness.

Lois swallowed. “Hello,” she croaked.

“I am Kal-El, Supreme Ruler of New Krypton,” he said woodenly. He closed his right fist and thudded it into the centre of his chest.

So he really was the top banana. “I am Lois Lane, Daily Planet.” Lois extended her right hand, using her left hand to ensure the bedding kept her covered to the neck.

He dropped his hand from his chest and stared at her outstretched hand, but he didn’t make any move towards her. After an extended silence, he said, “Low is slain?”

“Lo-is,” she said as clearly as she could.

“Lo-iss?”

She nodded. “You’re Kal?”

His shoulders straightened, and he drew back as if confounded by her question. He’d said his name was Kal. What was she supposed to call him? “Where are you from?” he asked.

“Metropolis, New Troy, USA,” Lois answered. “Where am I?

“New Krypton.”

“That’s a city, right?” she guessed. She’d never heard of it. It sounded vaguely Eastern European. “Which country?”

“There are no countries.”

Was that a joke? Lois scanned his face, searching for amusement — no, he was serious. Was he some sort of one-world extremist? She didn’t know … didn’t care … didn’t have time for his petty agendas. “I need to get home to Metropolis, Kal,” she informed him. “I'd appreciate your assistance.”

“I have no means to get you home, even if I knew of its whereabouts.”

“The United States of America,” she said with disdain. “This place may be remote, but you must have heard of The United States of America.”

“No.”

Lois sighed, her exasperation rising. “Get me a map,” she snapped.

He went to his desk, brought back a map, and handed it to her.

It was a map of one landmass — vaguely circular — an island surrounded by ocean. Lois poked at it. “What’s this?” she demanded.

“New Krypton.”

“Where’s the rest of the world?”

“There is no rest of the world,” Kal intoned. “That is our entire planet.”

Great! Just her luck that, when she could have crash landed anywhere in the entire world — the Caribbean maybe, or a tropical island paradise — her life-pod had honed in on a cold, dank, shut-away place run by a lunatic. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Mister,” Lois said, managing, with considerable effort, to keep her tone even. “But I am an American citizen, and there are international conventions regarding the treatment of benevolent foreigners. I mean you no harm. Just put me on a plane to anywhere in the USA … actually, any civilised country will do … and I won’t bother you again.”

“That isn’t possible.”

“Of course it’s possible,” Lois said. “What are you holding out for? Money? Weapons? Trade favours? You think by detaining me you can broker a deal with the President?”

“You are on Planet New Krypton,” he said. “You arrived in a space capsule — from another planet. You said you were from the Daily Planet.”

“That’s not a planet, blockhead,” Lois exploded. “It’s a newspaper.”

Kal didn’t react to her insult or her tone. “You are on New Krypton,” he said. His monotone was really starting to grate. “It is a planet. Not a country. Not a city. A planet. You come from a different planet. Don’t you know your home planet?”

“Or course I do,” she spat. “Planet Earth.”

“Earth,” he repeated. “I have heard of that planet.”

“Whoopee doo, and give the man a toffee.”

“That did not translate,” he said, deadpan.

Lois rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Can I go home?” she asked wearily.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“We have neither the technology nor the energy to transport you to your uncharted planet.”

“It’s not uncharted,” Lois hissed.

“It’s not on the map.”

No arguments there. Lois sighed. What now?

A sudden explanation flared through her brain. Maybe they’d put her in the asylum. Maybe Kal was an inmate. “Is there someone else I can speak to?” she asked hopefully.

“I am the Supreme Ruler.”

Delusions of grandeur … wonderful. “You already mentioned that,” Lois said, allowing her derision full expression. She looked past him, trying to assess the chances of success should she attempt to escape. They weren’t good, she decided grimly. “Did anyone else from my spaceship survive?”

“You are the only one of your kind here.”

Lois held her violated hand towards him. “What is this?” she said.

“The Crest of the House of El.”

He’d said his name was Kal El. “Your house?” she accused.

“Yes.”

So it had been some sort of ceremony. Which, unfortunately, quashed the inmate theory. “Why?”

“You are my concubine.”

“Your concubine?” Lois spluttered.

“Yes,” Kal said with a nonchalance that detonated her smouldering hostility.

“Did you even have the common decency to enquire whether I wanted to be lumped with you?” Lois stormed. “Or did you imagine that because you’re pretty and because you’re the top banana you can just do whatever you want to?”

Inexplicably, his blankness got … blanker. “I am not a banana,” he said as if he were giving her helpful information.

Lois Lane was speechless. For the first time in her life, she was utterly speechless.

“It was not your choice,” Kal said. “You are C4.”

“C4?” she managed.

“The fourth of my concubines.”

That probably explained what she was doing in his bed. But had he already claimed his conjugal rights or was that why he was here now? “Don’t think for one moment that you’ll be getting anything from me,” Lois fumed. “Concubine or not.”

Kal pushed back the chair and rose. “I will return later,” he said.

Lois glared as she watched him walk through the doorway. Then the thought hit her … Return for what?

***

**Female Hawk** · 04-27-2012, 02:32 AM

Part 2b

Kal-El was supposed to be checking the Government Accounts. That’s what he did during the hour prior to lunch on Thursdays.

But the neat rows of figures before him kept morphing into an image of the alien woman.

Low-iss.

What a strange name.

Was it representative of her position? Was she a person of no consequence on her home planet? Except she didn’t look like a person born into a hopeless situation … didn’t look like someone who had known from the beginning of consciousness that her life could never be anything other than an overwhelming struggle.

Why put a lowly person into a spaceship?

Maybe her life was expendable. Maybe she was an experiment. Maybe her death was immaterial.

There was something about her eyes. Something that continually lured him back. Every time he was with her, he kept forcing his attention away, only to find himself anchored in her again.

Certainly her demeanour was different to every other person he’d known. She seemed to regard him as an equal. Even after he’d told her he was the Supreme Ruler.

She’d called him ‘Kal’.

Kal.

No one had ever called him Kal. Possibly his parents had, before their deaths, but he had no memory of them.

The people closest to him — his servants who had served him for a long time — called him ‘Sir’. The three Regal Nobles who constituted his Cabinet referred to him as the Supreme Ruler. All others accepted they weren’t worthy to speak his name.

Yet this person … this woman … this Low-iss … an alien from Planet Earth, who would be lower than the lowest if he hadn’t taken her as a concubine, calmly called him ‘Kal’.

And she hadn’t responded when he’d put his hand to his chest to signify that he willingly accepted her into his presence.

She’d put out her hand, sideways, thumb up. Almost … almost as if she had expected him to respond to her. But how? Was he supposed to hold out his hand too? Maybe the very ends of their fingertips were supposed to touch. And that would signify … what?

Kal checked the time. Another nine and a half minutes to work on the Accounts.

An idea formed — an insistent idea that had established residence in his mind before he had a chance to protest.

He could check on Low-iss before lunch.

Never, in the ten years he had been Supreme Ruler, had he ever abandoned a task before the allotted time. Not unless it had been an emergency.

This was not an emergency.

But …

Kal snapped shut the account book and walked, as unhurriedly as he could manage, to his bedroom.

***

Lois made a speculative exploration of her head. Most of her hair was untouched. It was grimy and in desperate need of a wash, but it was still there. The bandage — about an inch square — was firmly attached above her left ear.

Gently, she probed it. It didn’t hurt. Maybe they’d put that numbing purple gel on it. She could feel a little lump under the bandage.

Terrifying though it had been, whatever they’d put in her head had given her the capacity to communicate — and for that, she felt a wave of gratitude.

She examined her hand again. The redness had gone. It didn’t hurt even when she pressed the ‘S’ symbol.

They didn’t seem to be an innately cruel people.

They had branded her and put something in her head, but both had been done … well, humanely. Although she was convinced the doctors or whatever they were had intended to drill into her head without any anaesthetic, until Mr Top … Kal … had come and stopped them.

He was definitely not cruel. Distant maybe, but not cruel.

Kal had said she was his concubine … but he hadn’t demanded anything of her.

Yet.

But she was in his bed.

If she was his fourth concubine, where were the other three?

Was it a time-share deal?

Lois looked around the room. It wasn’t a particularly big room — smaller than her bedroom in her apartment. If Kal were the supreme ruler, wouldn’t he have a grander, bigger room than this?

Maybe this was her room.

Maybe all the concubines had a room, and Kal visited as the mood took him.

She gulped.

It had taken considerable time for her indignation and frustration to subside enough to allow logical thought.

Except there was nothing logical about her situation.

The people were so different. Their total lack of emotion was disconcerting. Did they laugh, these strange people? Did they smile even? Did they cry? Get angry?

Or were they just restrained around strangers? Aliens.

Aliens.

Could it possibly be true that she was … actually … really … on another planet?

She’d known she wasn’t in Metropolis. Known she wasn’t in the United States.

But to think she wasn’t even on Earth!

The room had a desk — bare other than a pile of folders — a chair, and a small basin.

This couldn’t be his room … it was too stark … far too humble for a supreme ruler.

The door opened, and Kal entered. He walked to the chair and sat down, his elbows resting on his knees, his head down.

“Hello,” Lois said hesitantly.

His head rose, and Lois looked into his brown eyes. They reminded her of chocolate. “Hello,” he replied in the monotone. Was that his normal tone or was that the result of communicating through whatever they had put in her head?

There was a long silence while his attention volleyed between her face and the floor.

Lois watched him. He seemed uncomfortable. Was he trying to tell her something? Then a thought struck her. Had he come for … well, the concubine thing?

Surely a man with three concubines and who-knew-how-many wives would simply come in and take what he assumed was his.

Kal looked up. “How do you keep warm in winter?”

Lois was completely taken aback. She was thinking about concubines, and he wanted to know how she kept warm. Unless … what if they were thinking the same thing and this was his clumsy, Kryptonian pick-up line?

Despite everything, Lois felt a smile curve across her mouth. An image — his face when he’d solemnly informed her that he was not a banana — leapt into her mind and drove her smile wider.

Now, he was staring at her. His stock expression hadn’t changed but she thought she detected confusion. Or maybe it was displeasure. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

His unblinking eyes bored into her.

As if she’d grown an extra head.

Lois felt her bandage. It was still in place. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“How do you keep warm in winter?” he repeated.

Lois firmly suppressed her lingering amusement. “We have heating,” she said. “We burn gas or wood or coal. We also wear extra clothing such as coats.”

“We have no gas, and our supplies of wood and coal are extremely limited.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“This is the Regal Residence. It is kept warm.” Kal looked up from the floor. “But my people are not so fortunate.”

He seemed genuinely concerned.

“Some homes have no heating at all,” he continued. “Many people die every winter.”

There was no sorrow on his face, and his voice carried no emotion. But Lois could feel his concern. In his strange, mechanical way, this leader cared for his people.

His head was low; his shoulders slumped.

Lois experienced a sudden, unexpected impulse to reach over and touch his hand. To connect with him. To convey encouragement.

She didn’t. She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She had no suggestions as to how this cold planet could find warmth through the winter.

And she was uncertain as to how touching him would be received.

But her gut feeling was … it wouldn’t be welcome.

***

Innumerable miles away, as the sun descended on another day, a mother stared into the deepening gloom, searching.

Always searching.

**Female Hawk** · 04-27-2012, 02:36 AM

Thanks to everyone who responded. Do you want to know how many parts to this story or would you prefer to just read on for a bit?

Originally posted by ChlarkForever87

Almost an exact opposite of ur last story!!!

Yeah. Some of my themes kept on repeating for a while. This story was written before Trusting Me, Trusting You.

Corrina.

**ChlarkForever87** · 04-27-2012, 02:46 AM

Hmm the last 2 lines r interesting.... is that Lara searching for Clark? or is Lois' mother alive it this fic?

Great update! What did they do to Lois to communicate?

Poor Kal-El just wants to help his people...

Please update ASAP!!!

P.S how many chapters r there?

**TeamClois** · 04-27-2012, 04:49 AM

Hmm...interesting. Even though Kal claims to have a lack of technology, I'd say that device they'd planted in Lois' head is pretty amazing.

But concubine #4? Can't wait to see what that's all about.

Now what's up with that little tidbit at the end?! It totally reeled me in - as if I wasn't hooked already, but like the comment above ^^, does this have something to do with Lois' mother?

PLEASE UPDATE SOON!

**ForeverCKLL** · 04-27-2012, 06:38 AM

Great update! I hope to find out about the last bit soon!

**bigvillir001** · 04-27-2012, 08:37 AM

aw great update more plz

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