Stranger in Our Midst By Morgana Rated: PG13 Submitted: November, 2012 Summary: Imagine a world where Lex is not such a bad guy -- he even falls in love! But not with Lois Lane! Amidst Intergang, the theft of a mysterious new energy, and dueling wits with a beautiful agent provocateur, Lois and Clark work to crack the mystery of sensitive technology stolen from a freighter. A/N: This story takes place in an Elseworld setting. There have been numerous alterations to the plot and timeline. Here are a few points: This is an alternative world story and as such, Lex Luthor won't behave the same as the character we are familiar with. Lex is still ambitious, driven, and power hungry, his criminal activities are not as vast as portrayed in the series. He does possess a heart, one that can be affected, perhaps even broken. He has a new assistant after Nigel St. John departs. Beyond a good sense of fashion, the mysterious Aykira Milan is *nothing* like Mrs. Cox. Keep Michael Landes in mind whenever Jimmy Olsen makes an appearance. I always preferred his interpretation of the cub reporter as opposed to Justin Whalin's. Michael's Jimmy was more on equal terms with the other characters and not a glorified gofer. Cat Grant's character provided female balance and a worthy opponent for Lois in a few precious scenes that were attempted. (The episode *Witness* is an excellent example.) Sadly, with the beginning of season two, cast changes were made and her abrupt departure was never explained. Here is an endeavor to allow her a more graceful exit. Lois' lack of talent in the kitchen is a sore point for her. After bearing up under countless digs from the likes of Bobby Bigmouth, she is determined to dive in and take on the challenge, once and for all. With a little assistance from Uncle Mike, Mad Dog Lane makes decent attempts at understanding the culinary arts. It always strikes me how seldom Lois and Clark seem to relate with other people outside of the usual suspects. In the series, we only know about Inspector Bill Henderson, Ralph the creep and dear Dr. Klein. However, what about other characters like Diane the reporter who made two very brief appearances, Clark's landlady or Lois' Uncle Mike? In this work, we get to see Lois and Clark interact with these characters and other folks who might occupy their lives. I hope that filling out these characters' hazy outlines will not bog the narrative down, but provide a more colorful canvas to tell a story. At the time of this writing there are at least two other stories which will radiate from this one, as kind of a loose trilogy. "Cafe Americana" and "The Globe" will take references from "Stranger" and vice versa. Perhaps there will be more, only time will tell. There are so many people who assisted me on this fic they have to be listed in alphabetical order: Andreia, Anti-Kryptonite, Corinna, Erin, Janet, Terry, KenJ, Jenni and a large number of folks who pushed, prodded, pleaded and cajoled. Honestly, without such a large cheering squad I would have dumped this bad boy into the recycling bin ages ago!! Last but not least a happy thumbs up to Dr. Klein's Labrat who stood by me from my stumbling beginnings until the very end. Now, let's see what kind of trouble an egg salad sandwich can get our two favorite investigative reporters into! All characters, settings and some dialogue are the property of DC Comics, Warner Bros., and whoever else can legally lay claim to them. No copyright infringement of any kind was intended. This story was written for the joy of playing in the Lois and Clark universe, not for profit, but the story is an original idea and it is mine. *** Part One Rain. Rain. Rain. A relentless downpour hurtled from the heavens, through the early spring evening, saturating everything in its wake. Metropolis' majestic skyscrapers were pummeled foremost, water sliding effortlessly down slick facades. Next, it tumbled down the sides of industrial warehouses, the fluid moving not quite so smoothly over ancient brick and mortar, the building walls pocked and worn from decades of rain and exposure. Finally, the rain pelted over restored upscale brownstones; residences of the city's rich, not so rich, famous and quietly infamous. Far below the building rooftops, fleeing citizenry tried numerous methods to avoid getting sodden. Some clutched recalcitrant umbrellas, others wore hats, either brimming with water or completely soaked; a few grateful souls managed to hail a cab, not without getting a little damp. Such was a typical rainy spring evening in Metropolis. In one particular alleyway, two of those citizens sat waiting impatiently. After a long day toiling at the Daily Planet, its best investigative reporter team, Lane and Kent, had planned on heading to their separate comfortable and dry abodes. Clark and some friends looked forward to watching a much-anticipated basketball game. Lois also planned on a well-deserved quiet evening at home. Sadly, such was not to be the case; instead they sat in Lois' silver Jeep Grand Cherokee in slightly damp trench coats, keenly aware of the scent of food for their snitch, Bobby Bigmouth. Notwithstanding the downpour and gloominess outside, both reporters worked hard to keep their moods light. The newsroom day had been long and taxing. Thus, they were in danger of taking work stress out on one another. To top everything off, the insistent pounding of raindrops on the car's metal rooftop only reinforced the desire to be home. The beautiful brown-haired woman sitting in the driver's seat felt a wicked head cold coming on. She thought once more about the delightful chicken aroma assaulting her nostrils. She thought furiously. Deciding on breaking the silence, Lois babbled irritably, "I cannot believe we are stuck in a clammy, dark alley behind Callard's during a downpour! Bobby's information had better be good! I was planning on watching two week's worth of my favorite show." She sighed and dropped her chin to her chest than added, "Next time I decide to take an 'urgent' phone call at quitting time, *please* stop me." "Yeah," Clark empathized. "Perry, Jimmy, Eduardo and Pete are at my apartment watching the Metros go against the Denver Nuggets. Bobby has a knack for meeting in out-of-the-way places, despite the weather, but his information is always reliable. Hey, I thought he was mad at us. Oh, that's right," he smiled mischievously. "It was *you*. Wasn't there something about the absence of any real food in your kitchen?" Lois' features turned pouty, her prickles were coming out. "There may not be any food in my house, but we, partner, *always*, provide good food for our best snitch -- er -- source." Suddenly a familiar head popped up from the back of Lois' Jeep. The ever-famished, self-proclaimed street epicurean Bobby Bigmouth had arrived. "Greetings, Clark... Lois. Good tips are how I keep myself fed. Do I smell Chicken Marsala...with shiitake mushrooms?" Lois gasped, hand clutched to her chest. "Bobby! I wish you would *stop* doing that!" Clark smiled and completed the menu. "With creamy cheese broccoli and wild rice for side dishes, as you requested. Good to see you too, Bobby." He handed over the informant's dinner. Reaching into the brown sack, Bobby quickly pulled out the savory contents and began eating. Between large forkfuls of food and smacking sounds, he proceeded to do what he did second best...talk. "Mmm, those mushrooms really bring out the flavor! Kent, you got this, 'cause, your partner here doesn't know a shiitake mushroom from a portobello." "Bobby, enough with the frustrated food critic routine! This rain isn't getting any lighter and the basketball game isn't waiting for me. Spill whatever news you have." "Take it easy, Kent, I'm delighting in the flavors...wait a second. Do I smell fresh, warm cinnamon rolls?" Lois triumphantly held up another sack, this one a crisp bakery white, stenciled with the lettering Cafe Americana. She dangled it before the snitch. "Like the man said, spill!" His face twisted between desire for the cinnamon rolls and annoyance at the female reporter. Since his accelerated metabolism cried out for satisfaction, Bobby spilled. "Word on the street is a shipment of new technology, something called Harmonic Crystals, is coming in from Leeds, England. They're supposed to be docking in Metropolis Harbor's pier 17 tonight onboard a freighter called *Shackleton*. Only they ain't gonna arrive at their proper *final* destination onboard Project Prometheus 2. The big *detour* is for Luthor Industries in general and LexSolar in particular." Clark let out a low whistle. But his partner had a puzzled expression on her face. "Okay Clark, obviously these crystals are familiar to you. Care to fill me in?" "There have been whispers about those crystals within the solar energy community. Supposedly they are ten times more powerful then nuclear energy, but much more stable and *not* radioactive. EPRAD needs them to power its new space station, Prometheus Two. The original station, or Prometheus One, started with medical and chemical laboratories." "I get it, P2 is the next step!" Lois piped up. "Exactly! The second station expands on that idea: microchip-processing factory, solar panel fabrication, hydroponic farming, and a host of other industries. Effectively allowing the space colony to be self-sustaining and build on future expansion projects." Lois interjected, "Isn't there discussion within EPRAD about this P2 as a jumping-off point for future Mars expeditions?" Clark nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, but without those crystals the entire space station program gets pushed back at least two years. Luthor's only serious rival is stopped cold. LexCorp would have a firm grip on all future space industries." Bobby wiped his mouth with the back of a sauce-stained hand. "Yup, Luthor gets the crystals for his space station. Year and a half ago his plans literally went up in the air with the big guy taking the final module of the original station into orbit. This year he's coming back with a plan to get his own station positioned." Bobby whined. "Uh, Come on Lois, how about those cinnamon rolls?" "Sorry, not so fast!" Lois snapped, holding the bakery bag close. "Where is this industrial-strength heist going to take place?" "Do I look like a guy who goes around planning ship hijackings?" Bobby asked. "The Shackleton is supposed to dock at Pier Seventeen tonight. Maybe some action will happen after the docking or maybe while transporting the stuff to the space agency. Ask Luthor, or better yet, whoever he's hiring to do that job." The snitch's fingers wiggled. "Okay, gimme the cinnamon rolls!" Rolling her brown eyes, she tossed the bakery bag over the seat. "Those were a special treat from my Uncle Mike. Eat them with respect." "Oh, I will. I will. Look, I gotta get back to work. Just so you know, Kent, I was mad at your partner here." Bobby said, jerking his thumb in Lois's direction. "She should be ashamed of her kitchen; not even a box of crackers. Somebody ought to give this girl cooking lessons. Nothin' fancy, just your basic kitchen survival skills. But after what happened to me earlier today, this hot stuff had to go to you guys, instead of that hack reporter who tried paying for prime information with an egg salad sandwich." "What's wrong with that?" Clark asked bemused. "The egg salad was rotten, that's what!" The man snorted. "I have my stomach to think about." The two reporters exchanged surprised looks. Who was dumb enough to stiff Bobby? The reliability of his information was very consistent. Lois' last Kerth award exposing a Columbian drug cartel's trade route had come from intel he provided. Clark spoke first. "Okay. How about telling us who it is?" "Nope, he might have stiffed me, but just like you, I got to protect my* clients*." "Well, never let it be said Bobby Bigmouth doesn't have high standards." Lois muttered sarcastically. "Hey, watch it, Lane. I do have standards. By the way, not that I don't respect your Uncle Mike's baking chops, but his cinnamon rolls have w-a-a-ay too much cinnamon." "That does it, out!" Lois shouted. Bobby sniffed, "I was only offering a little constructive criticism." On that note, the snitch departed into the rainy evening leaving Lois and Clark light on their evening meal and heavy on a mystery. "Partner, it looks to me like a stakeout at Metropolis Harbor is in order," Clark said. "I'll call Perry and tell them what we're doing." He sighed. "So much for a great basketball game. I hope those people leave me some chips! Hey, maybe your Uncle Mike can give us another dinner?" "No," she answered. "It's the middle of the dinner rush and I would hate to tell him what we used that food for. How 'bout splitting a pizza... or maybe even Chinese? I could go for some tri-pepper chicken. Just as long as it is *not* from that dump, The Green Dragon!" She shuddered, remembering the last time they ordered from there. Clark bestowed a wry smile on his partner. "You got it. Pizza it is. Stay here where it warm and dry. I'll be back in a minute. Antonio's is right down the block." Lois watched Clark's retreating athletic form as he got out of the Jeep and swiftly ran through the downpour. "Besides, Cat's right," she murmured out loud. "He does have a tight end... but he's *no* Superman!" *** Two hours later, Lois and Clark were still sitting in the Jeep, only now they were located at Metropolis Harbor's Pier Seventeen. The white cardboard box containing a half-eaten sausage and pepperoni pizza sat in the back seat among the other remnants of their meal. Holding a powerful night-vision 2.5 x 42mm Black Monocular Zeiss binoculars trained to her eyes, Lois intently scanned the area. The usual denizens of the old harbor were safely indoors away from the intermittent rain. Absently rubbing her nose, she felt the warning tickle of a sneeze coming on. "It never ceases to amaze me what comes out of that purse." Clark said, shaking his head. "How many people just 'carry around' a pair of high-powered binoculars?" Sighing deeply, Lois launched into babble mode without taking her eyes off the ship, "For the hundredth time, it's a *briefcase*, not a purse. Purses are for reporters like Cat and Diane, not *investigative* reporters. We have to be prepared for nights like this! Carry around our tools-of-the-trade. Besides, the binoculars were in my desk until Bobby called! So, Kent, keep your eyes on that ship!" *** Her partner's brown eyes watched as well; he had tried earlier using his x-ray vision to search the old ship's interior, but unfortunately build-up of lead paint that had been used over the years made that impossible. The dark outline of the massive ocean-going freighter Shackleton stood majestically in the water. His meticulous scan above decks revealed little human activity, either legitimate or otherwise. No wonder there was so little movement anywhere on the cramped deck, covered as it was with a multitude of shipping containers, not to mention the continued rain. He wondered to himself. Was it possible Bobby's intel really did come up dry? *** "First a back alley, now harbor patrol. Who knows where the rest of this night will lead?" Before she could stifle a sneeze, it escaped. "Achoo!" Lois sneezed. "To a head cold?" She grumbled. "Some Oolong tea would help move that along." "Thanks, Clark. As soon as this stakeout ends, I'm grabbing a pot of the stuff. I should be watching my show right now." "Oh, what show is that?" Clark asked, his eyes smiling mischievously. "Uh, it's a nature show; about big cats in the African wild." Lois sank deeper into her seat and mentally crossed her fingers. The last thing Clark needed to know about was her addiction to the popular soap opera *The Ivory Tower. *Changing the subject she said, "Jimmy, Eduardo, and Perry are still at your apartment?" "Yeah," he said, glancing at his watch. "Hopefully the guys are enjoying fourth quarter of the best series in the NBA playoffs." "Don't worry Clark, maybe there's a Kerth -- or maybe even a Pulitzer in it for us. That should make up for any old basketball game." "Or a nature show?" Clark said teasingly. Lois looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, they are big cats!" Her face scrunched up again as she sneezed. "Okay, that's it, let's call it a night," Clark said. "You are catching a head cold, which is not going to help either of us." "Come on, Farmboy; a little cold is not going to stop me. We stay ten more minutes." "Okay, ten minutes, no more, then you are going home to a hot bath, tea and, ah, your nature show," Clark said while trying to stifle a laugh. she thought. Still her partner was not the chatty water cooler type, at least, not about their relationship outside of the Daily Planet's newsroom. Of course, they were partners and best friends, but every time they wanted to move a little further along; someone, something, or some story got in the way. There was also Superman; the mysterious Kryptonian had set himself as a symbol of all that was good and decent. In her work as an investigative reporter, consistently digging into society's underbelly, Lois appreciated his battle for justice and truth. It was comforting to have him on the same side and yes, even acknowledge her strong attraction to him. However, Clark Kent, the approachable Earthman, should be her first consideration. As much as she wanted, no, *needed* to talk with him, their timing was never right. Mentally, pulling herself up, Lois sighed. *** Clark continued looking out the window, studying the Shackleton, but he felt Lois' body tense as if readying herself for a conversation. One, because of his deep rooted fears of discovery, he had been avoiding for months. Where was this working partnership of theirs headed? Anyone could see the chemistry between them; their articles were so seamless it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. She was sensitive to his moods and thoughts. They had even gotten to the point of finishing one another's sentences. However, it was not their working relationship in question here, but a greater commitment as a man extremely attracted to one fantastic woman. He had close relationships with his friends, like Dr. Pete Ross, Bruce Wayne and the people at the Daily Planet. Lana Lang was the closest he had ever come to a real girlfriend, although both of them knew their personalities were ill suited for each other. His attraction and feelings for Lois were *different* -- more mature. He sensed she felt the same. Both of them wanted so much more, but neither of them could muster the courage to say the frightening words. Of course, there was the third person in the relationship: a Kryptonian, Kal-El, son of Jor-El, aka Superman. He was betting if Lois knew the truth about him she would be livid for keeping it a secret, perhaps angry enough to end the comfortable relationship they did have. That frightened him more than anything. *** Another loud sneeze brought Clark out of his reverie. "Okay, that's it," he said. "I cannot work with a sick partner. Tonight was a bust. We'll probably have to tackle this whole Harmonic Crystals thing from another angle." "Oh, Clark, stop being a killjoy. Bobby's information is never wrong! Something is going to happen tonight! If Superman were here he'd scour that ship with his x-ray vision and tell us if anything crooked was happening onboard." "Well, he's not here and you are getting worse. Besides the ten minutes are up, time for Miss Lane to go home." "Okay. You win, but I need to make a pit stop." He was grateful that she was listening to him, especially because the look Clark gave her meant he would brook no argument. She looked more than tired. The slow stiffness in her limbs seemed to him *achy*. He was thankful to see her fire up the Jeep and head through the fog and rain out of Pier 17 and to the Harbor Master's office. If only the two reporters had delayed their departure for thirty minutes more. Clark's sensitive hearing would have picked up the sound of a mini-sub's engine underwater. *** Fifty blocks uptown and high atop the LexCorp tower, the third-richest man in the world stood at his balcony window overlooking the rain-soaked city with satisfaction. If all his plans went accordingly, tonight would be the first step towards Space Station Lex becoming the highest manmade object in the heavens. His memories drifted back to his parents and their lives in Mulberry Gardens, which was now known as Suicide Slum. His father, a tall reserved man with a quiet sense of humor, grew old long before his time working hard on the docks to provide for his son. His mother, a gentle beautiful woman with a sharp mind, always told him he was destined for better things. In the end, they died penniless, their funeral attended to by only a tiny handful of mourners. Their bodies lay in a disgusting pauper's field just outside of Metropolis. He remembered vowing to rise above the squalor and immense poverty of his youth; he worked hard, but was not above cutting corners and paying bribes to anyone who could advance him. Sometimes in the stillness of the night, as he slept between satin sheets, he pondered if his parents would be proud of him. Would they consider a Space Station spinning through dark emptiness a fitting monument to their struggles? He nodded slowly, as if to push away the cobwebs of old memories. The time had come to move onto the remaining tasks for the evening. Despite the dull pain of another mild headache, he went inside toward his antique desk, and then flipped on the intercom. "Can you come in for a moment, Ms. Milan?" A gentle voice responded over the intercom. "Yes sir." Lex Luthor mused about his resourceful assistant and occasional media liaison, Aykira Milan, Nigel St. John's replacement. The former major-domo had decided life as Lex's assistant no longer held any appeal and choose to retire permanently in Zurich, Switzerland. Mrs. Cox was the natural choice to be Nigel's replacement, but she could never be the bodyguard and assistant she once was. After recovering from multiple injuries due to a serious automobile accident while on vacation in Buenos Aires, working for him in that capacity was impossible. So after sending Mrs. Cox stargazer lilies, paying for all her medical expenses and providing a generous separation package Lex was forced to hire a personal assistant from within LexCorp who could orchestrate his legitimate day-to-day activities. The H.R. department provided several internal candidates, but Ms. Milan's recommendations were exceptional. Her unusual skill set such as event planning, finance and a strong background on microprocessor science made her a desirable candidate. It was her ability in long-range event planning that helped make the White Orchid Ball, as an affair so successful, many in Metropolis' elite social circles still discussed it two years later. The Ball was the first major task he'd assigned Aykira, the first of many she would handle with efficiency and style. With immense pleasure, Lex's mind traveled back to their first meeting. On the day of her interview, Ms. Milan had arrived fifteen minutes early wearing light make-up, tasteful jewelry, an Anne Klein II grey suit and bearing a briefcase containing her research on the position as Lex Luthor's new assistant. Such efficient preparation appealed to his organized nature. The H.R. department had informed her one of the high-ranking LexCorp executives would meet with her. However, Lex Luthor himself conducted the final interview, expecting to catch her off guard. There were two elusive qualities, which struck him about this prospective employee: one was her innate gentleness and poise, the other: she seemed like the kind of woman who took genuine care of people around her without getting too close to them. Such an ability intrigued Lex; he wanted to know more about her. He sketched brief scenarios about a day working for him. She fielded each circumstance with practiced ease; he could see her confidence grow with each correct response. He decided to create a situation designed to throw her off balance. "Ms. Milan, you have fulfilled my expectations admirably. All scenarios were answered satisfactorily." He smiled smoothly, black eyes dancing. "There is just one more." Gesturing towards a Tiffany crystal pitcher containing lemon ice water and elegantly cut glasses perched atop a coffee table, he said; "Before asking, might I offer some refreshment? We've been conversing for quite some time." She arched a finely formed eyebrow, "Nothing for me, thank you. Please, what is your scenario?" Lex stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the antique weapons display. He picked up the sword of Alexander the Great, caressed it, and then turned towards the candidate, his eyes radiant with intensity. "Not so much a scenario as a question of character. Loyalty. Ms. Milan. Loyalty. Alexander's generals remained steadfast with him throughout his lightning swift conquests toward India. No matter what the obstacles, they stood by him and forged ahead." "I expect loyalty of all my employees; from my executive board members, personal staff, and most definitely my personal assistant. No matter whom, he or she, as the case might be, it is a matter of respect." Holding out the sword to her, Lex waited for an answer. The antique-filled room fairly crackled with tension. A new battle for this century was taking place, not a battle of sword and sinew, but one of minds and steel-forged wills. Aykira Milan's cool hazel eyes glazed unflinchingly at the billionaire and the ancient weapon in his grasp. Gently she caressed the flat of the blade with her slender brown fingertips, and said. "Loyalty is a commitment, one to stand by, short of breaking the law. Alexander broke his own law by drinking. It was during a drunken rage that he killed a man named Clitus, one of his closest companions." "Mr. Luthor," she continued, "since we are speaking of Alexander the Great, it was a fact that he approached all of his military campaigns with the utmost care and backed by the greatest army of its time. I came to this interview after intensive study of yourself and the corporation... armed and ready to work." Lex smiled again, but this time it did not reach his obsidian eyes. He felt strangely fascinated by this woman. She was not afraid of him. His wealth, connections, and power were of no consequence. A woman of such caliber was rare, indeed, and should make the perfect personal assistant and perhaps more. The tense moment passed when Lex bestowed upon her a charming smile and extended his hand. "Ms. Milan, I have no further questions. It is my distinct pleasure to welcome you to LexCorp's executive suite." She responded with an equally beautiful smile. "Thank you Mr. Luthor." As the weeks and months passed, Lex Luthor grew to depend on Ms. Milan's observations in both business and personal matters. With her exceptional organizational abilities and gentle manner, LexCorp's Executive Suite ran with an easy efficiency never seen before. Definitely more so than Angelica Cox's stress-filled tenure at the executive administrative helm. His executives and their administrative assistants seemed happy, even comfortable with her calling the shots. With such a person handling the day-to-day operations of LexCorp, he could focus on other things. He even covertly sought her advice on the actresses, models, and politicians' daughters he squired around town. His relationship with Antoinette Baines, the fiery scientist whose 'friendship' he cultivated as a means of learning Prometheus Space Station's secrets, ended partially because of his lovely assistant. Aykira had been working for him at least a year when Lex introduced her to Dr. Antoinette Baines. The two women took an immediate dislike to each other. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Aykira discovered her on the terrace in Lex's apartment, having breakfast, wearing the same clothes she wore the previous evening at dinner. This was not the first time Aykira had met one of his 'houseguests', but this time it was different. Her face did not display jealousy, but instead an expression of intense sadness. So much so, that Aykira later pleaded a headache and went home. Lex could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes. Afterwards Antoinette never spent the night at his home again. For some strange reason he did not want to see that melancholy expression etched on Aykira's face again. In any case, the plot to sabotage P1 had failed miserably, thanks to the newly arrived Man of Steel. Antoinette, because her dreams of wealth or perhaps keeping Lex as more than a business associate were not realized, demanded Lex pay her something as compensation. Pay her off he did, by promising to lay all their plans at her doorstep if she ever dared blackmail him or mention his name in connection with the Space Station's troubles. Terrified of the prospect of facing a long federal prison term, Antoinette bolted. She immediately severed her ties to Luthor and resigned from EPRAD. The last he had heard of the scientist, she was teaching physics in an obscure community college in the Midwest. Of course, Lex Luthor was not totally without companionship, but those affairs were short-lived and few. Although they had dated briefly, the beautiful Daily Planet reporter Lois Lane did not draw him mentally and emotionally as Aykira did. Despite her slim mask of brisk, even standoffish, efficiency, he knew the woman who touched the sword held a similar, albeit smoldering, attraction for him. He took pains to hide his feelings from everyone, but deep in his heart, Aykira was someone he could care for. He decided to slowly alter their relationship, to put it on a more friendly footing. The first step was to make updating of his business calendar into a challenging game. Aykira surprised him. After the first month, she kept it with greater accuracy than he ever did. They started each morning going over his schedule; sometimes he might attempt to trip her up, only to fail more often than succeed. The second step, in his plan to improve their relationship, Lex teased her with gentle sincerity. To his delight, she responded in kind, but always as a respectful assistant. Still, it was refreshing having a work confidante. Not since the early days of his relationship with former wife Arianna Carlin had he experienced anything remotely like it. His administrative assistant continued displaying her flair for organizational management and handled people with a lighter touch than himself. Some of his chief executives were more inclined to discuss a matter with Aykira before going to him. She was truly a valuable resource. The time had come to give her greater duties within the company. She would be the perfect permanent media liaison between LexCorp and the barrage of reporters who would be asking questions about the microprocessors theft from the Shackleton when the news broke. The military knew what was really stolen and would be too happy for the investigation's focus to be on common technology while they searched for the purloined crystals. Now he needed Aykira's assistance to draft a memo increasing the hourly work schedule for key scientists at LexSolar. He wanted the crystals installed within Space Station Lex as a power source as soon as possible. With the expected shipment of Harmonic Crystals imminent, the solar panel specifications had to be reconfigured and manufactured quickly to be in time for the mid-summer launch one year hence. Afterwards, those same scientists' work expertise on the Harmonic Crystals could be channeled to its other applications. LexCorp's financial capacity in government contracts and medical advances would have no bounds. The report held no mention of these reasons. Its appearance was that of a routine work assessment. His key person at the facility, Dr. Frederick Scott, knew what Lex required. There was no reason to draw Aykira into this plan. He preferred she remain in the dark about his 'other' business activities. Plausible deniability is an important asset The woman was busy enough with running LexCorp's Executive Suite and her workload was about to increase. Like tonight, she made herself available to work long hours. He smiled a greeting when she entered the room, wearing a chic silk gold fitted jacket with black pants. Simple gold earrings dangled from her ears and a slender gold pendant hung from her neck. On her perfectly manicured right hand's index finger she wore a square silver ring adorned with intricate, deep etchings on the sides. It must have some sentimental value. He never remembered a time she did not wear it. A pair of black low-heel sling back pumps adorned her feet. He imagined those brown legs covered by silk stockings. Lex sighed inwardly. Holding a pad in her arm, Aykira Milan walked further into the lushly carpeted office. "Yes, Mr. Luthor?" "This personnel assessment and updated work schedule must be done, so thank you for staying late on such a wet, dreary night. Please set up an appointment to see the head physicist, a Dr. George Amundsen, tomorrow. He's mentioned leaving the project and moving home to Seattle. Could you handle that for me? The man is invaluable. If you must, increase his salary by as much as twenty-five thousand dollars as an incentive, effective immediately." Handing her two sheets of paper with his written notes describing the particulars of LexSolar's personnel needs, he continued firing off orders, which Aykira swiftly jotted into her notebook. Upon completion, Lex sighed, rubbed his forehead, feeling that the mild stress headache he had was slowly abating and he said. "That is all for now." He looked up, shook his head and teasingly said, "My dear Ms. Milan, how do you ever keep up with my demands?" Allowing herself a bit of amusement, she said with a smile. "You pay better than the next guy." Then, after looking over his notes and instructions, she continued, "This should take all of ten minutes to type and edit. I will forward it to you when it is done, Mr. Luthor." "Lex, please -- no one is here," He said in an equally teasing tone. Her hazel eyes smiled softly. "Which is precisely why it is *Mr.* Luthor." "Of course," he smiled back at her, immensely enjoying the game. "In any case, I insist on calling my car service. Taking the Metro on a night such as this is out of the question." The shade of an impish smile again played across her face. "Mr. Luthor, I arrange for all the executive car services. I already have a car standing by. As you say, it is a rather unpleasant night. I intend to leave as soon as this report is completed." "Staying tonight in my home is always an option. My behavior would be that of a complete and perfect gentleman." Lex placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. His voice said one thing, but his eyes spoke very differently. The game had moved to a new level. Aykira's features stilled, then a look passed over them. What was it? Caution? Desire? Deep longing, with a maddening touch of sadness? Like a gentle mist, it vanished and her face once again resembled the mask of an efficient executive administrative assistant. "N... no", she stammered nervously. "That shall not be necessary, although the offer was a kind one. Good night, Mr. Luthor." "Good night, Ms. Milan." After a brief nod of her head, Aykira turned, gracefully walked out of Luthor's office suite and went downstairs to her office. *** <"Idiot!"> The voice inside her head roared. After exiting the circular staircase she walked briskly down the silent corridor, then entered her own stylishly appointed office. Sitting down at the reproduction of a nineteenth century French writing table, she created and edited the report, then forwarded it to her boss as promised. Minutes later, the intercom went off again, but Aykira Milan had departed for the night. Part Two "Yes, of course," a honeyed voice purred. "We can go another time. The job comes first. Bye now, George." The phone was slammed angrily into its cradle. "Men!" Jimmy Olsen looked over to Cat Grant's desk, watching the auburn-haired temptress body strike a pose like, well... a cat. "Penny for your thoughts?" the junior reporter queried. "You couldn't handle them, Olsen." The gossip columnist shot back. "Too true, Jimmy, Cat's thoughts aren't worth a plugged nickel." Lois snickered while she walked down the ramp into the bullpen. Clark, following behind Lois, balancing two steaming lattes and fresh chocolate donuts astride each cup, winced at the remark and said. "Oh Lois, don't start, it's not even 8:30. Especially, after last night." Her previous irritation forgotten, Cat Grant's face lit up with mischievous delight. Easing over to Clark, the gossip columnist rubbed a perfectly manicured and bejeweled hand on his arm. "Did anything happen last night between you two?" She turned, looking Lois up and down; shaking her head in sheer dismissal of the other woman's sensible charcoal suit and burgundy blouse. "Oh no, what could I be thinking," she pouted. "You were with Lois? 'Madam Iceberg'? How could *anything* happen?" Fighting a sneeze, Lois was ready to hurl a proper comeback when Perry White emerged from his office. "Great shades of Elvis! Is this a newspaper or a gossip rag? Olsen, where are those contact sheets from the Duncan Street fire? Cat, Senator Kline's daughter's wedding? The article rewrite is due for *tonight's* evening edition. Focus, people focus!" He turned his steely gaze to Lois and Clark and boomed out, "Anything turn up from last night's stakeout?" Lois grabbed a tissue from her desk, covered her face just as the sneeze escaped. Clark's lower lip turned downward and he spoke after letting out a heavy sigh of disappointment. "*Nothing* turned up Chief. We watched the ship for two hours; drove around the harbor and spoke with a few "locals" in the Harbor Master's office. No story." "Ha! A first! The hottest team in town failed!" Ralph shouted gleefully. Perry turned around and noticing, Ralph barked, "Hey, isn't your city hall piece overdue?" His face beet red, Ralph muttered "Uh, right Chief," and quickly scurried away. "What's everybody standing around for?" The Daily Planet's senior editor bellowed, "Get back to work!" A chorus of "Yes, Chief!" was heard throughout the bullpen. Everyone raced back to their respective desks attempting to put together the tasks Perry requested. Diane Pallister, a shy, statuesque blonde reporter specializing in articles for the 'City Life' and Weekend sections of the paper, was walking towards her desk when Lois called her over. "So, what is up with Cat?" Lois said. "She looked miffed a few moments ago." Leaning down, Diane spoke softly. "She's upset about George; he called to break off tonight's dinner date." "George?" Lois said, her surprise lifting her tone. "Isn't he that slightly nerdy, 'wild man' scientist from Lex Industries? She's *still* dating him after eight months? That's some kind of a record!" The blonde-haired woman shrugged. "I have no idea about Cat's dating records, but apparently, the relationship is consistent *and* exclusive, especially where George Amundsen is concerned. They met a few weeks after the whole Nightfall Asteroid experience at some science/celebrity charity event. Apparently, he's a scientist specializing in the new field of solar harmonics. Glancing carefully over at the gossip columnist's desk, Diane continued. "George works for LexSolar and lately they have been putting in overtime on some new project. He keeps canceling their dates and she's getting anxious." She warily glanced over at the gossip columnist then leaned closer. "Lois, please don't let her know I told you this." "No way! Still, a very impressive bit of information gathering!" "I learned from the best!" Smiling, Diane continued walking to her desk. Leaning forward in her chair and slowly sipping the mocha latte, Lois thought to herself, *** Cat noticed the conversation between Lois and Diane and easily imagined the subject of their speculation: George Amundsen. A subject which was strictly off limits to everyone; *especially* Perry's little pet, investigative reporter Lois Lane. After all, didn't she keep Daily Planet employees' names out of "Cat's Corner"? Why couldn't they respect her privacy? George -- so strange to think of him as "off limits" to anyone ever since meeting him he was anything but that to her. Their sexual attraction was immediate, passionate and wholly reckless. A *wild man*, she remembered saying to anyone who would listen in the early days of their relationship. His appearance was very different from the usual model-perfect men she went out with. He had an athletic build, over six feet tall with gentle blue eyes and blonde hair that was beginning to show the first signs of baldness. His nose was broken, the legacy from a biking accident when he was in his early twenties. Still it was George's voice, which set him completely apart; it was slightly reedy with a tendency to speak in a manner that made the listener think he was totally insecure. Underneath the facade of insecurity and stutter lay a strong, steady individual. One who was willing to look past the Cat's vamp exterior and see the intelligent, witty woman underneath. For the first time in years, Catherine Grant did not just 'go through the motions,' but genuinely enjoyed lovemaking. Somewhere in the past eight months, the temptress gave way to a mature woman, happy to explore the joys of a fulfilling relationship without games or artifice. On his part, George consistently made efforts to help her grow as a person. Her high-profile occupation as a gossip 'columnist' constantly exposed her to several heavy-hitters in the worlds of politics, sports and entertainment. George's claim to fame was working to create a better solar battery, not mingling with the high and mighty. Yet he never appeared anxious and was always willing to be her 'plus one' at events she knew bored him silly. The past eight months they shared other passions; good books, favorite local places in the city of Metropolis, cooking and hiking. She smiled inwardly, George taught her the bare rudiments of physics and she shared her love of fine Italian sculpture, especially the Renaissance period. In the early winter on a whim, Cat dropped a few of her social engagements to take a clay sculpture class at Metropolis Community College and really enjoyed it. It fired her creative energies in other directions besides writing a simple gossip column. There were other places and subjects she considered important now, subjects very different from merely working for the Daily Planet. She had the Nightfall asteroid and one frightened priest to thank for all this. Such a harrowing experience had forced Cat to deeply examine her life thinking. A thrice-removed distant cousinship shared with Jimmy Olsen most *definitely* did not count. She was getting comfortable, content with the tall, balding scientist with the hawk nose and faintly reedy voice. But certain nasty thoughts came to the surface. "I need to get to the bottom of this!" She muttered aloud. "Need to get to the bottom of what?" Jimmy asked innocently. Looking up, her green eyes narrowed. Maybe she couldn't find out about George, but a genuine computer hacker could weasel the information out of LexCorp. "Cousin" Jimmy might come in handy after all. *** "Achoo!" "That cold is getting no better. You need some chai green tea," Clark said, concern etched in his deep brown eyes. "What I *need* is to find Bobby and get my Uncle Mike's cinnamon rolls back!" Lois grumbled. "We have nothing to show for our stakeout *but* my cold." Clark agreed with her. He had missed a great basketball game; the Metros had won their match after going into overtime twice. His guests had departed before he'd arrived, leaving the living room clean with only a few beer bottles and empty potato chip bags in the garbage. Unexpectedly, Clark's sensitive hearing picked up the words 'Metropolis Harbor'. He turned from his partner and said "Perhaps not. Look at the monitor." The image of Gloria Campos, LNN's top reporter, filled the screen. "This just in from Metropolis police, the super freighter Shackleton was robbed last night around 1:30 a.m. "The authorities are not stating how several crates of cutting-edge Barontech microprocessors bound for LexSolar were illegally removed from the vessel. A press conference held early this morning at LexCorp HQ by Aykira Milan, Executive Administrative Assistant to Mr. Luthor and media liaison regarding this particular robbery. A statement as well as a brief press release, was issued to the five main media outlets." The camera cut away to the lobby of LexCorp, where a stunning black woman dressed in a very chic manner spoke to a number of TV reporters. 'The microprocessors were properly insured. This robbery will only somewhat affect the work timetable at LexCorp. Our computer customers' government, commercial, and private orders should experience only a minimal delay.' The scene shifted back to Ms. Campos. "The Metropolis police are examining every lead and LexCorp is hopeful to have the parties responsible brought to justice summarily." She then closed out the story, stating more details of the robbery would be discussed during the evening news. "Smooth. She's much better looking than Nigel St. John," Jimmy piped up. "Yes. She's Lex Luthor's personal executive assistant and from my source at LexCorp runs a highly organized office." Cat interjected thoughtfully toward the cub reporter. Clark looked over at his colleague, noting the tone of admiration in her voice. "This woman must be good if she's earned your respect." Cat turned to face him, jerking her thumb toward the monitor, "Working for Luthor is not for the faint of heart or the disorganized. Say whatever else you want about the man, he only has the best of the *best* working for his inner circle." "Who cares about Luthor's inner circle?" A miffed Lois joined the conversation and turned to Clark. "The Planet was scooped! Only *TV crews* were invited to the conference. If we hadn't quit our stakeout around midnight, the microprocessors would still be onboard the Shackleton and we...er the Planet would have had an exclusive!" Clark held up his hands, deflecting his partner's onslaught. "Microprocessors are not what we went looking for. Ms. Milan said LexCorp won't miss them. No Kerth awards here, Lois." Lois spoke a little softer so only her partner could hear. "*Something* is not right. Bobby's information has never failed. Possibly microprocessors' crates were not the only ones stolen. "Maybe we should speak with Bill Henderson and find out more about those missing crates?" "Jimmy!" all three reporters shouted. "No fair. You two always get the geek first; I need him!" Cat snapped "Finding dirt on some celebrity-of-the-week is not worth pulling Jimmy." Lois remarked acidly. "We are tracking down *serious* news," Lois remarked. Cat's green eyes flashed with menace; "She was about to lay into Lois when Clark stepped in as referee. "Ladies, we all need Jimmy's exceptional abilities, but only one at a time. Cat, what are you researching?" Mollified, the gossip columnist muttered. "It's a private business matter." Clark shifted his gaze from Cat to Lois arching an eyebrow, which halted her from making a "Mad Dog" Lane comment. Jimmy walked over, sensing the tension within the group; he slowed down, rubbed his hands together, bounced on his toes and spoke diplomatically. "CK, Ladies, your wishes are my commands." Cat blurted out, "Work schedules for the LexSolar physics department." Ignoring her comment, but filing it in the back of her mind for later reference, Lois spoke quickly while rummaging through her briefcase. "Track down how many crates of microprocessors were ordered for LexSolar from Barontech and how many were actually stolen. Here, use thi*s* shipping manifest from the Shackleton as a baseline." Turning to Clark, she continued, whispering. "Maybe General Zeitlin can provide Superman with the number of Harmonic Crystals crates shipped. After all, advertising the theft of a unique new technology like the Harmonic Crystals with military and extraterrestrial applications is not in EPRAD's best interests. If the shipping manifest we bagged last night says twelve microprocessor crates were shipped, but say, fourteen crates are missing then we'll know the microprocessors were stolen as a smoke screen. Then somebody, perhaps Ms. Milan, is lying." "Amazing how that little 'pitstop' for the bathroom at the Harbor Master's office yielded Shackleton's complete shipping manifest." Clark grumbled unhappily, "You took quite a risk." Changing tack, he asked, "What about Lex himself?" "Clark, what is this obsession with Lex Luthor? Besides, if Ms. Milan is such a good administrator it will be very easy for her to locate all the information we need." "Wait a second, Lois. The existence of these Harmonic Crystals is not exactly public knowledge. Superman cannot ask General Zeitlin for that kind of information." Suddenly Clark's phone rang, cutting through the newsroom din. Seeing they were deep in discussion, Jimmy rushed over to answer it. Cat sighed, walked away from the duo, and around to her desk. Much as she loathed admitting it, Lois was right. Using Planet resources to snoop on George was crossing the line...even for her. She was going to have to resort to something daring and different -- trust George. "Hey CK, General Zeitlin's assistant wants to know if you can contact Superman, it's a matter of National Security." Taking the phone, Clark quickly found himself deeply engrossed in conversation. *** Lois contacted the 12th Precinct and asked to be put through to Henderson. Sounding more irritable than usual, the laconic inspector growled, "The boys bet me $20.00 either you or Kent would call before ten o'clock. Bad news travels fast, especially when you two don't get to report it." "Spare me, Henderson. Let's cut to the chase. How many of the microprocessors crates were stolen? Achoo!" "Honey and lemon, plus a little rest should take care of what ails you, Lois. Afraid your partner will handle this story better than you will? A little healthy competition can be a good thing." Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she took a deep breath and said, "Gee thanks, Dad. Just give me the number of crates actually missing!" Ignoring Lois' retort as per usual, the police officer responded. There were twenty crates in all, but only five were stolen." "Five?" "Yeah, and they were considerably smaller than the other fifteen." Her pencil made a steady tap-tap-tap sound on the wooden desk's surface as she mentally rolled facts around. Furiously writing a quick reminder to check back with Jimmy on the Shackleton's manifest she 'acquired' last night. Lois continued her conversation, "How much was the total street value of those crates? "Oh, about five point two million... give or take." "Impressive. But that's mere pocket change for Luthor. Still, nice round numbers like that are always exciting to the readership. Hey, why the easy give, Henderson?" "Because the government, Air Force and EPRAD are all over this one, so help getting these 'microprocessors' back is accepted from anywhere." Henderson sighed. "Even from you two! Oh, yeah, tell Kent if he hears from Superman we could sure use the big guy's help with this case." "But according to the LexCorp spokeswoman the theft of these microprocessors won't hurt business. Why all the heavy suit reaction?" "Since when is *anything* involving LexCorp and really Luthor himself simple?" "Hmm. Point taken. Thanks, Henderson. Achoo!" *** Once the phone was back in its cradle, Lois looked up for Clark, but her partner was missing and Ralph was standing in front of her desk. "Sorry Lois. Clark's gone, but he did leave this note for you." Ralph held a sheet of paper between thumb and forefinger. Lois's eyes narrowed; he obliviously stole the sheet from Clark's desk. "Give it here, Ralph." "Nope. Not until you tell me where that Intel about the Shackleton shipment came from." "Sources are confidential Ralph, even you know that. Now hand over Clark's note or prepare to be very sorry." He continued to dangle the note just out of her reach. "No way, Lane! I...Steve... gimme!" Steve Landers, the Planet's head sportswriter, easily snatched the paper from Ralph's fingers and handed it to Lois. "The newsroom is not a place for games. Crawl back into your hole and let the real reporters work," he growled. Frightened, Ralph fairly scampered up the ramp towards the coffee machine. It was easy to understand why Ralph was scared. Steve was a former football player for the Dallas Cowboys; after an injury sidelined him from the game he turned to his second love, writing. Despite being in his mid-fifties, he kept himself in excellent shape. His powerful frame belied a gentle heart, but he was a man who did not take kindly to fools in general and Ralph in particular. Steve looked askance at Ralph's retreating figure and shaking his head, the older man said gently, "Why Perry keeps that guy on salary is beyond me. Know what I mean?" "Absolutely. Thanks for the assist." "No problem." He smiled warmly and moved off. Lois opened the note; it read: *Lois, General Zeitlin needs a meeting with Superman, I'm going to try and contact him. Should be back in a few hours. Clark.* Sighing, she decided her partner could tackle that part of the story. Jimmy was working on the Shackleton's manifest. She needed to focus on Lex's assistant, Ms. Milan. Perhaps she could clarify why the billionaire's LexSolar division might not require the microprocessors. Walking over to Jimmy's cramped desk, Lois spoke loud enough for him to hear her, but soft enough to avoid anyone else listening in. "Hey, look up Cat's request as well as ours. Who knows, it might be related to our story." She watched a bewildered expression cross the cub reporter's face. Wisely, he thought better of asking questions; with a nod, he stood up and headed towards the research department. Lois watched him go than decided it was time to get moving, herself. The mocha latte was now cold and uninviting; frowning at its loss, she poured the remains into her plant pot. Shouldering the ever-present camel-colored briefcase, Lois started up the ramp ready to do battle. But, before doing that, she needed to buy some Echinacea; no way was a simple cold going to slow "Mad Dog" Lane down. Part Three *** After completing the phone conversation and dashing off a note to his partner, Clark immediately raced up ten flights of stairs to the roof. Standing on the top step, he listened for any heartbeats before spinning into the suit. Once, in the early days of Superman, he had made the error of bursting through the roof's access door and startling a maintenance crew. Painfully embarrassed, Clark had sheepishly made an excuse about needing some fresh air and run back downstairs. He found another escape route, from the building, but lost precious time helping a car hijack victim. Fortunately, this time the coast was clear. Soaring upward into the damp morning air the superhero sped towards EPRAD facility and his meeting with the military head of the space agency, General Virgil Zeitlin. Flying towards the southern tip of the eastern seaboard always amazed Clark. Each state had a vastly different landscape, which guided him to the Florida space center. The industrial and urban residential megalopolis of BosWash lay spread out beneath him, which eventually gave way to long stretches of Virginia and North Carolina's lush green woodlands preserves. *** As a teen-ager, when he begun exploring his puzzling new abilities flying from one place to another always presented special challenges. Such as, avoid being picked up by radar and not get lost. Two special people, besides Jonathan and Martha Kent, helped reduce those challenges and grant easy access to any point on the planet; Ida Schultz and Hutch Parlow. All through the summer of his eighteenth year, he and Jonathan had spent many a happy evening poring over the few detailed aerial maps available to the public. Hearing about the younger Kent's interest in navigation from Jonathan, Hutch Parlow, the introverted WWII Army Air Corps veteran, spent time with the equally shy teen-ager. Despite a forty-year age difference, a close friendship developed based on their love of cartography and navigation. To Clark's absolute delight, Hutch brought out some of the maps he had used as an aviator during his time on the Army Air Corps as well as some of the more modern maps used in civil aviation called sectionals. He took Clark out to Schubert Field, a local private airport used for civil aviation, and purchased some up to date sectionals for Clark as a present. These are maps that overlay each other and give minute details of terrain as well as locating airports, VOR station locations (VOR stands for Variable Omnidirectional Range. It is a specialized radio station, each of which broadcasts on a specific frequency and is used for navigation) and other landmarks used in navigation. He taught Clark the intricacies of plotting a course while having to account for wind speed and direction. Clark would not really need that knowledge since all of his flying could be classified as seat of the pants flying, but if he had declined to learn, questions of an uncomfortable nature might have been asked that he wouldn't want to answer. Clark fondly remembered sitting with the aviator over tea and his mother's warm chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin cookies listening to thrilling accounts of aerial strategy during the war in Europe. The older man's eyes would sometimes drift far into the past, reliving a particular battle. He mentioned quietly the greatest plane he had ever seen was the *English Electric Lighting*. It was special to him because the plane's navigator had saved his life. Clark had often asked to hear the story, but the older man always shook his gray head, smiled sadly and said, "That's a tale for another evening." In time Hutch began to train him on the finer points of aerial navigation and as a 'final exam' had Clark ride co-pilot in his plane to Kansas City. For a young man whose special abilities easily allowed him to fly to the city and back in mere minutes it was surprisingly one of the highlights of that particular summer. Ida Schultz, Smallville's head librarian, also contributed to Clark's store of navigation edification. Many were the times when he could be seen leaving the small library carrying railroad, highway and city maps, first of Kansas, then the United States and finally the planet. These books didn't have as much detail as the sectionals, however at this point what he needed most was an overview. After so many trips to the library, the older woman questioned Martha about it one day at Smallville's General Store. "That boy has taken out every atlas in the library and put in library transfer requests from as far away as Kansas City! It's not right for a youngster to be spending time with so many books during the summer. Jonathan needs him around the farm to lend a hand with chores and such." Martha said, smiling innocently, "Clark gets his chores done in plenty of time to read. He likes maps; someday my boy will travel the world." Her comment had satisfied the older woman, so much so she eagerly began ordering different atlases through Smallville's library on loan system for Clark to study, blissfully unaware of his true purpose. One night during dinner, Jonathan had commented. "If you weren't so determined to be a journalist, son, cartography might make a fine career." *** Superman smiled gently to himself, cherishing the happy memories. Even today, ten years later the now retired Mrs. Schultz would occasionally send an e-mail to Martha with computer enhanced satellite updates of a new atlas for her now world-famous journalist son. Sadly, Mr. Parlow had died a few years after that wonderful summer, but the young man within still harkened back to every piece of advice bestowed upon him. The Man of Steel had thoroughly familiarized himself with Earth's landmarks. Clark slowed down as he approached EPRAD's huge facility. Flying overhead, he viewed the impressive space complex. New outer buildings radiated outwards from the smaller, older buildings; when EPRAD was an undersized agency, its budget allowed for lesser buildings only. Fortunately, the last two administrations realized the need for the space program's expansion and increased its overall budget handsomely. Touching down near the main administrative building, General Zeitlin's adjutant, Captain Maynard greeted him. "Good to see you again, Superman." The Air Force Officer, a short, well-built man with brown hair and gentle blue eyes framed with horn-rim glasses, smiled warmly as he shook the superhero's hand. "General Zeitlin is waiting in conference room ten. Follow me, please." Clark followed him into the spacious main lobby; its walls displayed pictures of various spacecraft launched from EPRAD. An impressive array of commemorative photos of shuttle crews from previous years also adorned the walls. Uniformed and civilian personnel alike walked about, but stopped and stared upon seeing the familiar blue, red and yellow suited figure. Superman and his companion approached the waiting elevator, stepped inside, and Captain Maynard pressed the button for the tenth floor. Following a quiet ascent, the elevator doors opened and the pair headed down a worn beige carpeted corridor totally devoid of pictures or decorations. On the right side was a set of double doors. Stenciled on one was the name Video Conference room 10A. Captain Maynard opened the door and ushered the superhero inside. General Zeitlin stood at the far end of a long oak conference table, going over several papers and one computer disk. Closer to the entrance, a red-haired technician stood over a computer, preparing a Power Point slide presentation. The technician, a seasoned veteran who routinely set-up video conferences between the Prometheus colonists and the President, looked up saw the superhero and gasped. "Wow! Superman, it is an honor to meet you!" He quickly regained his composure and muttered, "uh sir." Embarrassed for the soldier's mistake and obvious discomfort; the captain spoke before the General could reprimand him. "Thank you, Kowalski. That will be all." Painfully aware of his blunder, Kowalski nodded, packed up and departed as quickly as possible. Virgil Zeitlin, a middle-aged African American, strode towards the Man of Steel, extending his hand in welcome. Over the past few years, the General became the *unofficial* liaison between the US military and Superman. Brusque and commanding in manner and speech, the soldier in him had never completely warmed to the concept of dealing with an alien possessed of vast, unknown powers. The military as a community publicly respected the Man of Steel, but in certain branches of government, xenophobic concerns were clandestinely whispered. "You wished to see me, General Zeitlin?" Clark spoke in his best civil-but-distant authoritative voice. "Thank you for responding so quickly, Superman. Before starting, let me offer assurances this situation is not as dangerous as the Nightfall Asteroid, but it is serious. Please sit down." Turning to Captain Maynard he said, "That will be all." Nodding briskly to his superior and Superman, the aide departed. The superhero sat across the table from the General while the latter started the slide presentation. "Today's news report of the microprocessor theft aboard the *Shackleton* was misleading, for reasons of national security. LexCorp did have some microprocessors stolen, but not as many as the reports stated. It's a cover up. The items stolen were the main supply of Harmonic Crystals." Playing innocent, Superman looked puzzled. "Harmonic Crystals?" General Zeitlin began the presentation. "Yes. These pictures were taken at the test facility in Leeds, England where they were created by a joint effort between the US and Great Britain. The crystals' potential as a power source are myriad, but medical applications, especially in regards to the brain, are now being explored; currently the top research hospitals in the world are clamoring for them." "Our military forces have tested them to power submarines, airplanes and all-terrain vehicles. EPRAD's original plan: use the crystals to replace the nuclear power plant onboard Prometheus Station 2 with solar panels powered by the crystals. Such an engineering feat is still in the experimental stages, that's why they were brought here." "Imagine how those plans have been crippled with this theft? Delay of power source transfer will dramatically affect the expansion of Prometheus Space Station 1 and push back P2 by as much as five years." General Zeitlin opened a lead-lined box revealing a fist sized lavender and white hued crystal. Handing it to Superman he continued, "This is one of the three remaining prototypes; another is under lockdown at a military base in Britain and the last one is at S.T.A.R. Labs where Dr. Bernard Klein is conducting tests on it for medical purposes." "The potential to help solve the current energy crisis is fascinating; however, the medical properties are even more interesting." Superman said. "One of the technicians in the Leeds facility had a benign brain tumor for several years. Such medical conditions are always closely monitored. 'Benign' tumor can be misleading; although they may not be cancerous, surrounding tissue can be affected. In any case, shortly after he started working on the project the cells began to shrink, then disappear. After a number of exhaustive tests it was determined for some strange reason the crystals had completely cured his condition." The General continued the slide presentation by showing 'before and after' pictures of a number of people. "Naturally additional tests were conducted with other patients, some of them facing death. The crystals cured all patients, except for the most advanced cases; simply by exposure to the crystals for a week or more." "It seems the crystals are highly prized for a myriad of reasons." The superhero responded. "We need your assistance to track down whoever stole these crystals, Superman. They can be a source of tremendous good for humanity....or evil." *** Lois quickly dialed the main number to LexCorp on her cell while buying cough drops and Echinacea at Myers drugstore. Within moments of being transferred, she heard the cheerful voice of Ms. Milan's assistant, informing the reporter that although the media liaison's schedule was booked, a few minutes could be spared for questions. Lois was mildly taken aback at the swiftness with which an interview with Aykira Milan had been granted. She wondered with a mental snort if it had to do with Lex Luthor's slight flirtation during their interview 'dinner' months ago. She had put a firm stop to his attentions by pushing for his real family background. But Luthor, as maddeningly elusive as ever, skillfully avoided all questions he didn't want to answer. A couple of dates followed, one to the opera and another one at a charity wine tasting. Neither occasion yielded anything but rudimentary previously unknown information on the billionaire. The article was slated for the Daily Planet's Weekend Section. Hence, with a deadline looming, Lois wrote up a story and Perry printed it, but they both knew it was not up to her usual standards. Shortly thereafter Lex stopped calling and Lois had to admit a rare defeat. Perhaps this was his way of saying 'sorry' by allowing her easy access to his assistant? Grabbing a Metrocab outside the pharmacy, Lois sat back, reached into her briefcase and pulled out her notebook, concentrating on tightening certain questions to ask Ms. Milan. Lois was engrossed in her interview preparation; time spiraled away while the cab wove through Metropolis' crowded sodden streets. The city's atmosphere fairly teemed with constant motion. Its inhabitants, as cyclists, in trucks, and in cars rode by bumping into potholes and blowing horns to avoid other vehicles. Sidewalks held couples walking hand in hand, people chattering on large cell phones and street vendors hawking their wares. All this frenzied activity rolled by largely ignored by the reporter; having long since lost interest in the passing cityscape, she was always intent upon reaching a destination and its story. Looking up from her notebook, she was pleasantly surprised to realize they had arrived at the imposing, tall headquarters of LexCorp. Alighting from the cab, she breathed in the mid-morning air still lightly humid from the previous night's rainfall. Walking into the ultramodern lobby, and after receiving a temporary security tag, Lois approached the main bank of elevators and took the special express elevator to the 110th floor. Bobby Bigmouth had mentioned it was better known sarcastically among the employees of LexCorp as "Luthor's lair." The doors opened into a reception area tastefully decorated in twenties-style art deco. Lois walked over to a young Asian woman behind the desk who directed her towards Aykira's office suite. Upon opening the door marked *Special Assistant to the President*, Lois entered the office suite and noticed a tall middle-aged woman with soft auburn hair framing her face and with laughing deep green eyes. "Hello!" she said brightly, "You must be Lois Lane of the Daily Planet." The tall woman came around her desk and shook the reporter's outstretched hand. Her voice thick with a down-home North Carolina accent, she continued happily, "We spoke on the phone earlier, my name is Jane Connelly, Ms. Milan's assistant. She's in a meeting; as can be imagined, today has been a busy one. I understand you are probably on a deadline. But please wait in her office; it'll only take a few more minutes. How about something to drink?" "A cup of tea, with a teaspoon of sweetener, if it's not too much trouble, please. Maybe this cold will go away." Smiling, Lois said wryly, "The assistant has an assistant. LexCorp must be humming these days. When was it announced Ms. Milan was the media liaison for this situation? Shouldn't someone from public relations speak to the media?" Smiling ruefully, Jane deflected the inquiry. "I'm sure Ms. Milan can provide such details a lot better than I can. This way, please." Jane walked over to the other side of her office and opened the door, ushering Lois inside. Neither 'office' nor 'workplace' was the proper word to begin describing such a sumptuous room. During previous visits to Lex's office and home, the museum decor always gave Lois a strong sense of guarded apprehension, its sole occupant determined to impress guests and clients with shouts of impressive wealth. This space however, was quite different. The media liaison's office suite was designed to set visitors at their ease with gentle comforts, a sign of true graciousness, not artifice. The room was painted in calming colors of creams and blues, with the large area rug underneath the desk repeating the color palette in a bold grid pattern. Behind the desk, exquisitely designed Brazilian hardwood built-ins maximized wall space in grand library style. As Lois' eyes scanned the shelves of each built-in, she saw well-thumbed books covering a wide range of subjects, from physics, finance, and European history. Perfectly framed pictures of the Swiss Alps mountain range, Big Ben at night, the Tuscany countryside and a picture of Brasilia, Brazil taken by Ms. Milan on her numerous travels were displayed in matching brown picture frames in various sizes. Books, photos, hand woven baskets and several personal items stated the occupant of this space loved her work, yet possessed a world traveler's eye. A short blue vase of pale pink tulips sat on her desk, the final touch of elegance; this was a workspace almost any woman would appreciate. A stroke of envy ran through Lois as she sank luxuriously into the chairs upholstered in deep, lush, heavy cream fabric. For the hundredth time she wished the furniture salesperson hadn't coaxed her into buying stylish but totally uncomfortable couches in her own apartment. The desk, a reproduction of a 19th century French writing table, was supported on slender curved legs, grounded the room in the understated elegance of a bygone era. Jane came in with a steaming cup of tea, placed it on the table beside the chair then departed without a word. Lois wasn't happy about waiting for Ms. Milan but nothing was to be done...yet. She sat back, sipped her beverage and continued enjoying the delicious decor until her interviewee arrived. *** Upstairs in Lex Luthor's office suite, an intense conversation between the billionaire and his assistant was taking place. "Mr. Luthor, a working relationship already exists between you and this reporter. Ever since your early call this morning, I wondered, 'Why must I take the interview?'" "Ah, Miss Lane is not just *any* reporter; she and her partner are the *best* in their field of newspaper investigative journalism. Handling her properly is good training for a media liaison." Unconvinced, his assistant pushed her point. "Much as your trust in my abilities is appreciated, sir, it is *still* not clear why I should handle the follow-up on the Shackleton situation with her, or any reporter for that matter? Isn't the press release sufficient?" "Credibility, my dear Ms. Milan." Lex countered petulantly. "An open dialogue with a media liaison instead of me riding into the fray provides assurance that although this theft will have an adverse effect on LexCorp, the subsequent investigation is routine. Miss Lane's story in the Daily Planet will calm the public's concerns. Employment at LexSolar, especially among the scientists, continues without interruption. Now, I'm sure Lois is already in your office; please do not keep her waiting. She comes by her reputation for impatience honestly." Turning aside from his assistant, he strode over to the balcony doors and was about to step into the slightly humid spring morning air, washed clean and sweet after last night's rain. Not hearing the office door close, he looked back at the dark woman and saw the hard glint of resentment at his casual dismissal mirrored in her cool hazel eyes. Luthor walked over, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, and said encouragingly, "No one on my staff can handle Lois Lane with aplomb quite like you, Aykira. All the important facts that we and the police have deduced are in your report. This is not a major media/business disaster for LexCorp. Simply respond directly and honestly to all her questions." *** Suddenly a thousand heartbeats began to race inside and a lump formed in her throat, as she felt the heat of his touch through her clothes. Aykira's mind overflowed with sensual thoughts she had no earthly business entertaining. It was as if the original purpose for her presence in this office were thrust violently aside. She wanted to feel so much more than one touch. Abruptly reminding herself where she was and realizing Lex just bestowed a generous compliment she replied softly, "I shall do my best, Mr. Luthor." Then she quietly exited his office. *** Lex walked out to the large balcony past the beautifully designed Smith and Hawkins black wrought iron table and lavishly upholstered chairs and stood looking over the great city in deep contemplation for several minutes. All thoughts of his complex business empire and the Harmonic Crystals were temporarily moved aside. For now, he was simply a man, wrestling with an age old dilemma. Touching her was another mistake... an overt act of tenderness, first, a veiled, but serious offer to share the comforts of his apartment and perhaps the warmth of his bed. Now his senses were overwhelmed with desire for greater intimacy beyond merely touching her shoulder. He was being drawn in -- not by her beauty -- but by her strength and integrity. Physical and emotional control was an ability he prided himself on, but now its steady erosion was becoming a source of concern. His head began to ache painfully and his hands trembled ever so slightly. No woman, not even Arianna, had ever affected him like this. God help him, he wanted her. When the time was ripe, Aykira would no longer be his assistant, not a mere lover, but his wife. If that were to be the case, serious modifications to his plans must immediately be made. His musings were interrupted by the sound of silken cloth and gentle footsteps; his major-domo, Asabi, walked onto the immense balcony towards him. Asabi's serene appearance was ever so misleading to the casual observer. Since his replacement of the retired Nigel St. John, he had dispatched all tasks with an accuracy that exceeded even Luthor's expectations. Still, Luthor missed the former MI6 operative; Nigel's sense of humor and dry wit matched that of his employer's. No matter how hard Lex tried to lure the former spy back in his employ, it was met with a polite but firm refusal. Should he surface again by Luthor's side, MI6 would take a rather dim view of such an arrangement. Hence Nigel remained safely (and anonymously) in Zurich. "Dr. Scott's plan to rob the Shackleton was carried out to perfection. All the Harmonic Crystals are accounted for, Mr. Luthor. Experimentation and construction of the solar panels and the main power generator will begin immediately." "Thank you, Asabi." The billionaire bowed his head in thought than spoke softly. "I have another task for you." Asabi stood waiting his employer's pleasure. Make sure all the evidence regarding this particular operation is laid at Dr. Scott's doorstep. The man has a reputation for being rather obnoxious and ambitious. Of course, all of this is only necessary if our little *enterprise* is exposed." This last was said without Lex's usual suave ease. "It will be done, sir." Bowing Asabi departed from his employer with the same stealth as his entrance. Lex went back to contemplating the city below and the sky above, his headache... and other things, momentarily forgotten. *** Returning from Lex's office Aykira felt torn; pleased that he had so much confidence in her talents, yet wary of being drawn ever closer to the man. She was also deeply concerned about the forthcoming face off with Lois...her 'friend'. Fully aware of the other woman's investigative skills, Aykira knew doing an interview with her, no matter how short, was a mistake. Thinking back to her past; there were no less than three occasions Lois had dismantled confident interviewees starting with a simple disarming question and keeping hammering with more questions until she cornered the person into telling the truth. Innocent questions were the opening salvo to her interviews, but no matter what kind of interview she did, it was always backed up with rock solid research material. Watching Lois and her erstwhile partner, Clark Kent, in action was fascinating, even pleasurable to observe, but now *she* was the subject. Mentally shaking herself, Aykira thought, Feeling confident, the media liaison smiled upon entering her office suite, and seeing Jane sitting quietly at her desk carefully going over an e-mail, Aykira spoke, "My meeting with Mr. Luthor ran longer than expected. Has Miss Lane arrived?" Looking up from her monitor, the assistant smiled back. "Yes, she's inside, waiting. Aykira, her reputation as a sharp investigative reporter is well earned, she's already asked about your involvement as media liaison for the robbery. After all, this is a much more demanding situation then discussing the release of a new product line for Lex-Mart." "No need to be concerned. Miss Lane is probably looking for follow-up material to this early morning robbery onboard the *Shackleton*. Not inviting the newspapers, especially The Daily Planet, was a foolish mistake; they do not like to be ignored. Please, provide my press release when she departs. Also, what time is Dr. George Amundsen arriving?" Jane consulted her calendar. "Around 10:00 a.m." "Good. It is 9:30 now; give me fifteen minutes with her. Then interrupt us, say my next appointment is on the way up." Jane nodded agreement and continued working on the e-mail. Aykira crossed the outer office, placed a hand on the doorknob, inhaled deeply and entered her office suite. *** Hearing the door open, Lois twisted in the chair and stood up, facing an attractive, athletic medium-built African American woman in her early thirties. Her hair and makeup was stylish and well applied. Ms. Milan was clad in a chic aqua blue dress with blue high-heeled shoes. Her jewelry was not the latest fad, but pleasing-to-the-eye silver pieces Lois suspected had been collected during world travels. There was one piece in particular; a thick, square silver ring with intricate symbols carved on the sides and worn on her right index finger. The woman's manner was businesslike, but not aloof; she smiled warmly at Lois and extended her hand in greeting. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Lane. These meetings regarding the theft have been non-stop." Lois couldn't help but feel as if she had met Aykira Milan before. Something about her warm, gentle manner reminded the reporter of someone, but she could not quite put her finger on it. Her upper lip quirked. If Aykira were not the subject of this interview, the two might even be on friendly terms. Lois surprised herself by saying, "Please don't concern yourself, my time was well spent admiring your furnishings and the photographs -- your office decor is quite unique. Did all of this come with the job?" The administrative assistant smiled knowingly, "Mr. Luthor appreciates his senior executive staff and their assistants' hard work and long hours. We have an extensive decorating budget; although, the photographs, artwork and books are from my own collection. Traveling is a passion of mine, but since becoming Mr. Luthor's assistant I only travel for business. Please," she said extending her hand towards the chair just vacated, "make yourself comfortable." The reporter happily settled again into the warm comfortable fabric. "Now, I understand you have some follow-up questions?" Aykira said as she sat down. "Yes." Lois reached into her briefcase, pulled out her reporter's notebook and opened to the marked page. "But before we begin, I mentioned to your assistant Jane, it's strange for the executive administrative assistant to Lex Luthor to be handling such a high profile situation as this. Shouldn't the head of Public Relations be the media liaison?" "This is a valid question. Usually Mr. Luthor or someone from our PR department does handle matters such as these. However in this instance, he has decided to expand my responsibilities and allow me to work with the media regarding the theft." Lois thought to herself. "Several months before the Shackleton robbery, LexCorp ordered a rather substantial shipment of microprocessors from Barontech, in Leeds, England. Doesn't the company have a standing contract with Comptronics in Silicon Valley?" Nodding in agreement, Aykira responded, "Absolutely. LexCorp does business with both companies. Our international customers request Barontech products, while the domestic customers require Comptronics. It is simply a matter of domestic and international configurations being quite different. Since Barontech services the European market and Comptronics domestic, it saves LexCorp millions in conversion fees. All computers fabricated from Barontech microprocessors are slated for the European market. If you wish, I can contact legal and have them messenger over a copy of our agreement with both companies." Lois, impressed with Aykira's refreshing candor, responded. "That would be very helpful. Thanks." Waving her pen hand, Lois continued. "You know, I've been covering news about LexCorp for years; it seems the company as a whole and Mr. Luthor in particular is taking a relaxed stance regarding the theft of microprocessors whose street value is well over 5.2 million dollars. He usually keeps such a close eye on his companies' activities as well as maintains a strong relationship with the public. A theft of this magnitude, even if it is only five crates out of twenty, should be a personal affront to his professional pride. Having anyone else publicly handling the matter might be perceived by his enemies as a sign of... weakness?" The atmosphere between the two women in the room had gone from friendly accommodation to wary tension. Lois leaned forward, watched the other woman very carefully gauging her reaction. But again, the answers were direct and honest, although this time quite pointed. "Right. First, the microprocessors are well insured, as was mentioned this morning at the press conference. Second, our technicians at LexCorp will not be affected by loss of employment between shipments. Third. There will be a 'slight' down tick on our production of computers, but another microprocessor shipment is departing from Leeds early next week. As for that other point, Mr. Luthor has a myriad of business interests. It is impossible for him to oversee *all* of them. He requested me to interface with the media and the authorities because of my knowledge of our micro processing business both from a manufacturer's standpoint as well as the impact on LexCorp." "Hmm, fast turnaround on Barontech's side." Lois jotted into her notebook. Looking up she said, "I appreciate the information. LexCorp technicians jobs are safe, but what about the scientists at LexSolar? Rumor has it the ones specializing in solar energy have been putting in a great deal of overtime. Working on a new project... to build and design solar panels... to power Space Station Lex." "Solar panels?" The other woman's face displayed confusion. "Excuse me, there is nothing in our reports about solar panels, only computers for private industry." Taking a chance, the reporter pressed her advantage, "According to my source, the microprocessors were not stolen at all, but a new technology for powering those solar panels which was originally slated for Space Station Prometheus 2 -- something called Harmonic Crystals." This time a myriad of emotions from surprise and happiness moved across the media liaison's face, but finally settled on resentment. Swiftly the features schooled themselves to a calmness her body language did not agree with. "What did you say? Harmonic Crystals?" Lois got the distinct impression the rug had been 'pulled from under Aykira Milan'. "I was hoping you could tell me." Lois replied candidly. Before the other woman could speak, a gentle knocking on the door interrupted them and Jane entered the room. "Excuse me, Ms. Milan, but your 10:00 appointment is on the way up from the lobby." The resentment departed from Aykira's face to be replaced with a look of profound relief, the competent administrative assistant returned. Rising from her chair and coming around the writing table. She extended a hand of farewell to Lois. "I am sorry we cannot finish this interview. My regular appointments are backed up." "Could we make an appointment to finish this?" Lois said as she stood and placed the briefcase strap over her shoulder. Aykira glanced at her watch, than shook her head in dismay. "That won't be possible for the time being. I understand the Daily Planet's printers have a deadline. Please ask Jane to consult my calendar for a phone interview later this afternoon and provide you with the press release. It has been... interesting meeting you, Miss Lane." *** Lois spoke briefly with Jane Connolly regarding where to send copies of the contracts from Barontech and Comptronics. Despite the reporter's best efforts to push for a twenty minute follow-up phone interview later that morning in time for the evening edition's deadline, Aykira's assistant refused to alter her boss's schedule and granted Lois only ten minutes in the late afternoon. The business of running LexCorp came first. Mollified, Lois departed the office suite. Standing in front of the express elevator, she mused on Aykira's 10:00 appointment, wondering if it was real or phony. The sound of the elevator doors snapping open brought her mind back to her surroundings. A tall, well-built man with slightly balding, sandy colored hair and a hawk like nose emerged from inside. He touched his glasses with a nervous gesture that reminded Lois of her partner. The man's mind was several million miles away; he nearly collided with her. "Um...pardon me...Oh! Miss Lane!" "George Amundsen... isn't it? You are Cat Grant's friend. We meet some months ago at the Daily Planet." "Um...Yes, that's me," he smiled a lopsided, nervous grin and touched his glasses. "Uh, I hate to rush off, but I'm going to be late for my appointment. He jerked his thumb towards the receptionist. "You understand?" So saying, the scientist bowed his head, muttered a quick farewell, and briskly walked to the reception desk. Shaking her head in a bemused manner, Lois entered the elevator and snickered. "That is the *wild* man? He seems more like a nervous rabbit!" A thought struck her. Groaning aloud in frustration, Lois slapped the 'down' button for the main lobby. During the descent, her mind went over the brief interview. Also, she could not shake the nagging feeling of deja vu -- they had met previously.