#intergalacticadventure

Chapter 8

9. Cocktails and Confessions

Coordinates: Orbital bar-discotheque, Rann. Mission status: Successfully completed.

Neon lights flash everywhere, and holographic walls display stars, black holes, and quantum explosions. Music is loud. Clark and Kara sit in a corner with a couple of bubbling drinks. Clark’s is purple, sweet-smelling, and promises a slight dizziness. Kara’s is yellow, steaming, and promises more than just “slight.”

Kara: You’re going to love this. I never thought something like this could exist for us until I found it.

Clark: Me neither.

In a human gesture, they clink glasses and smile. They bring the drinks to their lips and sip. Whatever Clark is drinking keeps bubbling in his mouth and tastes better than expected. Kara’s… well, her face scrunches up and she sets the glass down forcefully on the table.

Kara: Ugh… delicious, but strong.

They laugh and chatter a bit as the glasses empty. A Rannian waiter approaches and offers more. Clark repeats, Kara changes. When the waiter returns because their round is finished, Clark changes, Kara repeats.

Clark’s third drink is cooler than sweet, something like mint, and in the unfamiliar haze of “buzzed,” it gives him a sense of clarity that pushes him to change the conversation.

Clark: Are you okay with what you saw at my apartment?

She squints. Clark can no longer tell if there is haze in her eyes or if his words are slurred.

Kara: The laundry bag? The one you take to… Martha to wash?

Clark: No… not that. I mean Bruce.

Kara: Ohhh… You mean if I approve of Bruce?

Clark takes a deep breath, another sip, feels the warmth give him courage, and nods.

Kara: Sure. I like Batsi.

In Clark’s blurry mind, that approval carries the weight of parental consent. Of the consent of the whole family. Of all Kryptonians since the beginning of time.

So he holds his glass with both hands and begins to confess:

Clark: Before all this, I felt… attraction. His dedication, his companionship, his responsibility, his charisma…

Kara: His pecs.

Clark: His pecs… well, yes, but more the other things. And it was platonic.

Kara: Noticing his pecs isn’t totally platonic. His thighs are impressive too.

Clark: And his jaw.

Kara tilts her head doubtfully and tilts her glass as well, almost empty again.

Kara: I suppose his jaw too. If that’s your thing.

Clark: The what?

Kara shrugs.

Kara: The jaw. And… “I’m serious, I’m Batman, come and fulfill my wishes.”

Kara grunts, imitating Batman’s voice, and Clark feels like applauding—but doesn’t, realizing he is holding the fourth glass the Rannian waiter has just delivered. This one is blue and has a sharp tang that hits just right.

Clark: But it doesn’t matter. Because it is all platonic, and we are World’s Finest… But now… now that we have spent time together, that we have removed the layers of… well, something I can’t tell you—Kara, always curious and bold, does not seem to care at all—, I have started dreaming of something more than the initial attraction. More than the platonic companionship I felt before. Because before, it was platonic, you know? Now I feel it could be… more than admiration.

Kara: Admiration for his jaw.

Seriously, Clark nods.

Kara: You’ve got a nice jaw too, but I think he’ll be the one eating you up.

Clark, either not hearing or not fully comprehending: I also admire who he is. And what he does as he is.

Kara nods again.

Kara: You want to shag him.

Clark: I want to shag him.

Neither of them really remembers what happens after that.

Clark has flashes, dirty clothes, and prefers not to investigate further.

Kara has photos, but Batman is protective, and if her cousin and he end up together, Kara doesn’t want to be the one who took Clark to a bar where her cousin participated in a wet t-shirt contest and ended up riding a kind of intergalactic mechanical bull in his underwear.

To be Continued...

( @k-dradom  hope i’m doing this right!)

There was a certain sense of trepidation and dread as Ellen read over the details of this galaxy, or rather, this particular quadrant of the greater galaxy they’d detected from the inter-space quantum transmitters. As with any mission, months, years of preparation had been poured into the analysis and data interpolation within the department.

From the very basics, ascertaining the viability of the physical natures of the entanglement wormholes themselves, to advanced extrapolation of anomalies and possible correlation between certain factors and its possible involvement with civilizations advanced enough, or at least, worth noting as a threat to the greater incorporated states, not to mention the galaxy in general.

Of course, only so much could be done in the labs and reviewal boards. Only so much that could be garnered from staring at statistical data and debating how far one could go with correlation and causation. As with any good directorate lead by the men of science, hypotheses and theories had to be justified by cold, hard facts. Evidence to counter or confirm what was proposed as threats or viable opportunities. To find threats, to ensure the safety and security, and ultimately, the continued survival and progress of the Incorporated States.

The men at the top had all the time to debate the ethical and moral ramifications of sending humans into such perilous circumstances, the Directors and Doctors alike. But they knew what had to be done, they knew that ultimately, the overreliance on automation would’ve lead to the death of the program as it almost had to their burgeoning military.

In worlds populated by an increasingly contented and fearful populace, it was rare to have someone voluntarily answer to the call to arms. But it did happen, and it just so happened that Ellen was one such woman.

Original specifications called for a two-man team, but with limited manpower they had little choice but to limit that to high-profile and hostile missions. The ‘Lieutenant Commander’, was an officer of none. Save for the security and utility robots that lined the halls of her relatively tiny craft.

“D2732-G1-Q3-S2910-P4. Quite a mouthful.” She murmured to herself, as she made her way out of the briefing room and onto the tarmac as it were, towards what would be her home and only means of conveyance home for the next few months. “VAI, you got everything the Administrator mentioned?”

“Affirmative, mission notes, and relevant information has been saved onto the ship’s local databanks. Mission related materials, equipment, and supplies are all packed up and ready to go.”

“Personal effects?”

“Loaded, in your quarters as per usual Lieutenant Commander.”

“Good.” She stood there, right outside of the craft. “Bigger from the outside. Let’s just hope we don't’ get too cramped in there, I don’t want a repeat of the Dujan storms.”

“Affirmative.”

Stepping onto the landing ramp she took one last look at the base, at his home. There was a part of her that understood the ramifications of this mission. This could be the last time she ever gazed upon her homeworld, or perhaps it could be yet another routine drift through space. Only time would tell.

The stations surrounding the main station, from the constant flow of cargo and resources that fed into an insatiable industry, to the supply lines that fed into the massive defense networks that they’d built up over the decades. It was certainly a sight to behold, ships of varying sizes, from the humble frigate, to the massive dreadnaughts, to the stations themselves which were upwards of tens of kilometers in diameter.

Her craft felt small and insignificant in comparison, but such was its necessity. It didn’t take long before she made her final approach, towards the massive array of satellite-like objects arranged in a ring. Each satellite lit up in a dull red color, one after another, before a brilliant beam of light enveloped it’s center. The tiny craft moved into position, and with one swoop, entered the light….

One would imagine the actual travel to be somewhat life changing, but in reality, it felt barely any different than standard gate travel. Instantaneous and without much effect on the craft or its occupants.

This time however, it was clear something had gone wrong, severely wrong. Whether it was the coordinates or some error on the calculations’ parts it wasn’t clear. But the tiny vessel was now on a collision course with the planet. The cockpit suddenly lit up in a brilliant display of warning lights, automatic warning systems repeated its blaring alarms and dull monotone notifications. There was barely any time to even look at the ‘planet’ from afar, as she approached the surface at a blisteringly fast speed, on approach to what seemed to be a relatively forested area, on one of the major continents.

Not that she had time to focus on anything but the collision itself however…. As the panic and fear had managed to worm their way through to the usually calm and composed woman. Beads of sweat barely had time to form however as the altimeter glowed red, and the craft began automatic reentry procedures after realizing that exiting atmosphere in this phase, was a useless effort.

Any observer from the ground would see this stunning display of colors, mostly a deep red and orange, but with flickers of blue. The shields of the ship attempting to mitigate damage to the hull. The boom of the craft breaking through the sound barrier would be heard soon after the craft was spotted, and anyone close enough near the crash site itself, would’ve heard the ear-shattering screech of the craft before the massive thudding explosion of the impact itself.

Any observers from space would’ve seen a massive ‘rip’ in space before this tiny craft zoomed out of it and onto the ring below.

It’d drawn a line, hundreds of meters down across the forest floor, clearing out a huge swath of trees and the like. The craft looked mostly intact, but was smoldering, the engines flickering.

GUARDIANS OF THE PLANET

Stories of the Alien Beast 🌍👽🦖