May 3, 1949, TELCORP Center, Meredith Island, Metropolis Bay
Luthor observed attentively as the trio of scientists carefully maneuvered the guide through a miniature opening, they had achieved in the capsule housing the Kryptonian named CRONOS. Unlike...his progeny? ICARUS, who was almost completely disassembled and analyzed as a subject of medical and biological research, CRONOS remained within his peculiar sarcophagus, shielded by a casing that remarkably resembled gold, adorned with crystal panels. Encased within, the body was enveloped by an unusual arrangement of metallic clamps, appearing to utilize nanotechnology and coated with a mysterious layer of blue frost. The workings remained a mystery, yet the sarcophagus seemed to draw power wirelessly, utilizing it to maintain the Kryptonian in a cryogenic stasis. This system had been operational for 12,000 years. To supply energy to the capsule, Luthor had equipped a highly potent generator. Additionally, a curious black liquid screen embedded with metallic particles continuously showed symbols in one corner of the capsule, symbols that remained undeciphered but looked like ancient Sumerian.
Six months had passed since the sarcophagus, or pod, had arrived in Metropolis disguised as agricultural machinery. For half a year, it rested in the depths of the TELCORP Center on Meredith Island, in what was supposed to be a secure vault for static electricity research, encased in lead and the few remnants of kryptonite that Luthor had managed to procure. A dedicated team of twenty scientists, either loyal to Luthor or covertly representing the USSR under assumed identities, led by Norwegian Peder Skarg, worked on the project. This diverse group included engineers, geneticists, physicians, chemists and biologists. Meanwhile, Luthor maintained a close partnership with Baroness Von Gunther of the Rand Corporation. Despite her virtual captivity, their joint efforts, especially in reverse-engineering the spacecraft discovered on Death Island, led to significant advances in aircraft engine technology. Death Island was now militarily occupied by nearly five thousand American troops and surrounded by the Navy. Both Soviet and American nuclear bomb flight plans were ready to wipe it off the map if necessary.
Too much had happened in the past seven months. The disappearance of the military cargo ship USS Aludra and the pocket submarine had been publicly blamed on a storm, but the government was convinced it were the Russians the ones behind. The president and the military chiefs did not know they had lost a Kryptonian body, but the small group around Maxwell Lord and General Hardy did. Hardy had committed suicide, it was said publicly that there had been an accident while cleaning his weapon, and Lord was in a panic. All the military men who had participated in this secret operation had fallen into an absolute neurosis, looking for moles and traitors everywhere and pushing for an escalation of hostilities with the USSR.
Tensions continued to rise. The government was taking advantage of Superwoman's presence in the skies around the world, helping and rescuing civilians of all nations, and creating invulnerability for her country of origin. The U.S. had succeeded in sweeping away the Communists in Greece and forcing a plebiscite in Poland, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia, which had been demilitarized and removed from the Soviet bloc. East Germany remained socialist but was surrounded, and civil war was about to break out in Romania. The Soviets responded with increased threats, nuclear tests, and aid to the Communists in China, Korea, and Indochina. Peace talks were going nowhere, while the USSR was developing the same missiles retro-engineered from alien remains that were also being built at Area 51.
We may not win the first round, but in my hands rests the end of Superwoman, the door to strategic balance and Worldwide Peace. Luthor felt invulnerable. The incipient witch hunts and the Un-American Activities Committee had not touched him. He was still a man trusted by the government. No one knew. No one suspected anything. Only Baroness Von Gunther, who, thanks to blackmail and false and hopeful news about her brother, had become just another Soviet agent, completely subservient to Luthor.
Luthor now knew who Clara Kent was, yet he remained conflicted about her true nature. He pondered if Clara Kent was merely a sophisticated ruse—a superhuman from another planet adopting the guise of a benevolent, average woman, espousing visionary beliefs about the future, akin to a modern-day messiah who chose journalism over carpentry—or if, indeed, this individual, potentially the most formidable entity in the cosmos, had chosen to embrace a mundane human existence, after having been nurtured on a farm. However, this contemplation did not deter his objectives. Time was of the essence for Luthor. He needed to make his move before the geopolitical climate spiraled beyond control for both administrations, particularly the one under Stalin, which Luthor aligned with to some extent. All of this unfolded in Metropolis, the epicenter of American capitalism, where Luthor was regarded as one of its most brilliant minds.
The guide and the kryptonite needle of extraordinary fineness, the product of months of work, carefully pierced the glass and entered the pod. There was no sound and no reaction. The symbols on the display in the corner of the capsule changed to a reddish color, but nothing else.
"Gently, millimeter by millimeter."
"Yes, Mr. Luthor."
"On my command, slow down."
The kryptonite needle touched the blue frost covering the body and pierced it. Soon they touched the body, in an arm. They had calculated that there should be a vein there. ICARUS had shown that Kryptonian physiology was identical to human physiology, even if their genetics seemed to be slightly different. The needle entered the body as a syringe was pushed over the capsule.
"Let's hope not all the blood is frozen."
A small motor began to suck the contents from the syringe. Just tiny clots of blood, but soon liquid blood, as red as human blood, began to arrive. After several hours, they managed to extract 1 tablespoon.
Luthor was ecstatic.
"This is a real success, comrades, a real success."
His small team applauded enthusiastically. The small vial of 1 tablespoon of Kryptonian blood was treated like the Holy Grail. Some cried.
Luthor leaned against the wall with a sigh.
Finally, we will be able to study the Pathogen's reaction to living Kryptonian organisms. We have little time and few options, but we are so close...
To cheer the group up, he read Rudyard Kipling's poem "If," knowing that their supposed Soviet overlords would censor it if they heard it.
***
Meanwhile, 15 miles from Meredith Island, at the Planet Building, Louis Lane leaned out of the window in his shirtsleeves, adjusting his tie. It was getting dark. There was a cool breeze. He stuck his head out and inhaled. For him, the last seven months had been very different and full of changes. The separation from his wife had been finalized and he was finally together with Clara. Since college, Louis had forgotten what it was like to give and receive love daily. Living with Clara had changed everything. He was now a completely happy man...and increasingly distracted from the present. The disasters of his marriage, some certain vital loneliness, and the terrible memories of the war began to fade. Clara and his daughter occupied all his time and almost all his thoughts. During the weeks when Emily did not sleep with him, he did not separate from Clara, and they slept together in his apartment or hers...and with Krypto at the foot of the mattress. Clara was loving and attentive to Emily, the little girl adored her. His parents also thought well of her, and his mother was in favor of the relationship, as long as he didn't start divorce proceedings with Pat and an annulment was possible. Clara's mother had spent some time in Metropolis last month and was a sweet, unassuming woman who, while not comfortable with the situation, was supportive of both. She shared an incredibly close bond with her daughter.
