Summary: Will Clark be able to keep his family and friends safe when his past comes looking for him? Clark may not remember his home in the stars, but someone hasn't forgotten him.
Continuity: Begins in the first half of the first season, and diverges from cannon continuity.
An amphitheater, crisp and white with soft blue lighting, was filled with a thousand varieties of aliens. At its center, a dim red light glowed. The aliens reclining in the shadows conversed freely. The gargles and hisses of different languages reverberated around the monolithic building. Many of the aliens were variations on the humanoid theme; others were radically different, from giant slug-like creatures to tiny twittering birds.
The central red light began to fluctuate, to strobe and intensify. "There will be order. The Dodecannual Galactic Council shall be convened," a clipped feminine voice announced. The conversations in the gallery trailed away and died. All attention turned to the light. "We will begin with old business. The proposition for a new Galactic trade route..."
"Motion to postpone old business," one of the more humanoid aliens called. He stood and his body feathers, wild yellow and red, fluttered. Many of the other aliens grunted their agreement.
The light flashed brighter for a moment. "Motion acknowledged, granted. Is there any new business?" It seemed as if all the aliens began to shout at once. The red light flashed and focused a beam on one of the more bizarre aliens, a small insect-like creature with a shiny black exoskeleton and a dozen tentacles and feelers. "The floor recognizes Tauten, representative of the Glaufien Nebula." The others aliens fell silent gradually.
"On behalf of the Glaufien Nebula, I would like to petition for the newly available permanent over council seat," Tauten said. His tentacles coiled and writhed while he spoke. An uproar rose from the rest of the aliens.
The light flashed rapidly allowing other aliens their chance to petition. Each delegate asked for only one thing, consideration for ascension to the over council.
Far above the room of babbling aliens, a single woman observed the chaos below. Tall and delicate the woman had white loosely curled hair tumbling past her hips. Pale skin tinted the lightest of blues gave the impression of frost. She was too gaunt and angular to be considered beautiful by human standards. A collection of screens behind her held the faces of eight other aliens. "They won't stop until a new member is ordained. The Kryptonians chose an inopportune time to self-destruct. There is no obvious choice for ascension."
"We need time," one of the aliens announced.
"Even a small amount of time would be invaluable," another said.
"If we were to choose now, a war would surely erupt," the blue woman said. "We need to stall. For peace alone we need this to not happen, not now."
"There is no way to stop it. The seat is empty," one of the faces said.
The blue woman shrugged. "Bureaucracy will save us. We will form a committee to evaluate the candidates."
"That strategy won't last half a session," one of the faces sneered.
"If you'd let me finish, I would clarify. We can't fill the Kryptonians vacant seat, until it is certain that no Kryptonians remain in the Galaxy. That search could take quite long enough. It could take an eternity," the blue woman said.
Murmurs of ascent came from the anonymous faces behind the woman. "One of the voices spoke out hesitantly. "But who can we trust to search?"
"Leave that to me," the woman said.
A building fronted by massive columns and surrounded by a high fence stood in the path of one small delicate blue woman. A soldier, tall and broad, covered in hair, but eminently civilized approached the woman. His white and gold uniform was starched perfect. "Identify yourself and your business here?"
"Dessa, representative of the Over-council and my business is my own." The soldier nodded and silently requested the blue woman's hand. He used a laser scanner to verify her identity and stepped back. The massive gate slid silently back and Dessa moved forward into the strictly guarded building. The inside was silent and dead, a museum of sorts. Along every wall retired weapons rested. Some were large and imposing, others were tiny almost invisible, but all were deadly. A peaceful Galaxy had no need for weapons.
Finally, Dessa came to a stop in front of a glass case. Inside it a woman rested. She was tall and dark haired like a Kryptonian. High cheekbones and fair rich skin further marked her as a Kryptonian creation. With a simple wave from Dessa, the glass slid back from the raven-haired woman. "Awaken, Warrior, Destroyer, Eradicator," Dessa said.
The creature in the case's eyes snapped open revealing perfect crystal blue orbs, but she did not move. "You may not command me. You are not Kryptonian."
Dessa nodded and took a careful step back. "You must protect Krypton's civilization at all costs, yes?" The woman made no sign that she heard, Dessa. "Krypton was destroyed. The possibility exists that no Kryptonians remain alive. You will find any and all survivors and return them to this world to take their place on the Over-Council."
The dark haired woman finally moved, but she showed no emotion. "This mission is acceptable."
Dessa pushed her long white tresses behind her ears and stood in front of the faces of the other members of the Over-Council. They seemed disgruntled if their expressions were any indication.
"Why would you release the Eradicator? That mechanism is dangerous. Why do you think half the galaxy was madly afraid of the Kryptonians," one of the aliens barked.
Dessa endured the angry exclamations in silence. "The Eradicator only kills for Krypton or at the order of a Kryptonian. As we all know, there are no more Kryptonians. That weapon will search though, with a single-minded intensity until every rock in the galaxy has been turned and every crevice explored."
"The action is done. Perhaps it was not folly," one of the faces said. "In the future, consult the entire council before such decisions are made."