Antarctica

[laurel]

Darkness faded, becoming at first a distant, purple smudge which brightened in its intensity to greenish yellow…she opened her eyes.

Freezing wind howled about her, whipping her long, dark hair into furious whiptails as she rose slowly from the wreckage. The cold was bitter, flurries of ice in the air stinging her naked flesh. Goospimples rose on her skin and her nipples tightened painfully; she could not recall feeling cold before.

Her emerald coloured eyes scanned the seemingly featureless tundra, seeking for a structure she somehow knew should be there. Yet it was not; she looked harder, willing the distance to come into stark relief, but this small thing, so often taken for granted, was denied her.

Above her, the woefully pale disc of the sun seemed very far off; but even as she looked upon it, she felt her body respond. The cold faded somewhat, and her thoughts became a little clearer. The wreckage about her…a matrix. She reached into the still glowing core and retrieved the heart of the device. It was warm and throbbed with life; holding it close to her breast, she heard it speak to her.

“Laur-El…”

Laur-El gasped as the memories came back to her in a rush.

There had been a battle…in Metropolis. She had fought Doomsday, facing him when all others had fallen. Victory had been in her grasp.

And then?

Darkness.

“The Fortress.” The Matrix spoke to her and she heeded its words. She raised her arm, willing herself skywards, but that too was beyond her. For now. She turned, struggling across the frozen ground in the direction she knew her home to be. Yet even then, she knew something was wrong. Where were the spires, the monument to Old Krypton?

Cursing her weakness, she toiled up a rise, feet and hands tearing gouges in the ice. She was warmer now.

“Symbiosis must occur,” the detached voice spoke in her mind. “Enough power yet remains. You must cast me in.”

“You will die.” Her own voice sounded cracked and weary to her ears.

“But Krypton will live.”

“What happened here - - I cannot remember... Doomsday….”

“Cast me in – I can merge this earth, and reveal what has transpired. And what yet may be.”

Laur-El pressed her lips into a thin line. The Matrix had saved her, that much was obvious. And, she, reasoned, it was foolish to attribute any emotional attachment to it. It was an artificial intelligence, its primary mission to preserve Kryptonian life…her life. Without hesitation, she hurled the object from her, sending it spiralling into the tundra, miles away.

She squatted down onto her haunches, staring into the ice, trying to force a light through the blackness of the memory. She had stopped it – killed it, maybe. The last thing she recalled clearly was the beast falling as she herself fell. That reporter…she had asked him if she had succeeded. “Yes,” he had said. “Yes, you stopped it. You saved us all…” then...Laur-El shook her head, annoyed. It would come back in time, and perhaps some sense could be made of all this.

It began with a low rumbling that teased the periphery of her consciousness; distant at first, it became more tangible and the ground around her began to shake. With deafening retort, a huge fissure opened in the ice plain, dragging down the remnants of the Fortress. For a moment, all was still, then a violent light erupted from the fissure, blinding in its intensity and power. The earth shrieked in protest as the alien thing grew its belly, casting rock and snow from the mountainsides.

Slowly, it rose from the depths, swathed in the light of her home, its majesty somehow heightened as the earthly trappings of ice and snow hissed and melted around it. How long the transformation took, she could not tell…hours..days. She could not be sure.

But the Matrix had kept good its word. There before her, was a thing Kryptonian reborn on the earth.

[laurel]

There was comfort in the sterility.

It was the marvel of Kryptonian crystal-technology that enabled the swiftness of the reconstruction, its intelligence ensuring that this place was a flawless replicant of what had once been. No Terran matter existed here, unless she chose to install it – and that she would not do.

This place, like herself – was Krypton on Earth.

Naked, she padded through the newly rebuilt Fortress, her skin soaking in the ambient solar energy that the building’s infrastructure provided. Each step, each passing moment, she could physically feel her cells being re-energised. Her thoughts became less fuzzy but there were still so many unanswered questions.

“How may we serve you, my lady?”

Laur-El turned her attention to the hovering servitor droids. “I must be cleansed,” she stated. “Then…” she trailed off. “Then I must commune with Matrix to established what has happened here.” The droid did not comment, as was right and proper; it, and its fellows followed her to the cleansing area, where she enjoyed a scalding shower and chemical treatment to ensure that no earthly corruption remained on her skin. This done, she ordered the servitors to bring her suitable attire. Not, she ordered, her “uniform” that bore the sigil of the House of El.

Rather, the gleaming white robes of a Kryptonian noblewoman were her accoutrements in this place.

She summoned her will, and felt the lightness that always accompanied flight – her cells were regenerating faster than she had anticipated - which was as unsettling as it was welcome – she was unused to miscalculation. With the droids in tow, she glided leisurely to the Heart of the Fortress.

Here, the crystal control panel formed seamlessly, throbbing with power. Laur-El selected the Master Crystal and placed it into one of the translucent cylinders. A few moments passed and them the face of her long dead father materialised before her.

“What has transpired here?” she demanded.

“Extrapolate.” Jor-El responded.

“My memory is fraught,” she said, hating to admit this weakness, even to the artificial intelligence. “Why was I in a Matrix… here in the Antarctic? Why can I not remember anything after my victory over Doomsday? Even if I was unconscious, that does not explain my transportation here, nor does is answer why I was left naked in the wasteland without.”

“I am still collating data”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, a sure mark of her irritation. “I have no wish to fence with you, father. If you are unable to provide me with an answer, then analyse what data is available, and present a hypothesis.”

Jor-El pulsed silently for some time. “Sufficient data is available to present the fact that is not your earth. You are aware of parallel dimensions, Laur-El?”

“Naturally,” she sniffed loftily. “As the pre-eminent champion in my galactic sector, I have encountered beings that have made the jump between the different vibrational planes.” She paused, her mind racing, calculating. “That would explain much,” she said. “At least on a circumspect basis. But it does not explain why I have made this journey.”

“Apply logic,” the Intelligence responded, not above being a little lofty itself.

“If logic can be applied to trans-dimensional travel.”

“Just so. What is your last memory?”

She swallowed, disgusted with the tremor of fear that calling the behemoth’s face to mind brought with it. “Doomsday,” she whispered. Never before had she faced anything of its ilk. It was as if it were the manifestation of rage…of hatred, backed with an awesome power that seemed to increase with each new act of violence. She recalled the agony of her ribs breaking under its assault, her flesh and organs pierced by its claws. She had been fortunate indeed to escape…alive. Realisation hit her with a sickening rush, and she quelled the panic in her breast with effort of will. “Are you suggesting that I was…defeated?”

“Negative. You succeeded in felling the beast. Unfortunately, said effort was…terminal.”

Laur-El lowered her head, and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, eyes squeezed tight shut for a moment. “Superwoman” she may be, but the news of one’s own demise was a shock to even her system.

“We saw fit to prepare for such an eventuality,” Jor-El went on, and Laur-El was certain she could detect a certain smugness in its tone. “And programmed us to intervene in the result your death. It is our mission to preserve all things Kryptonian. But to ensure that your re-birth did not interrupt the trans-dimensional continuum – which, as we have discovered is now no longer a non sequitur - we had to place your re-constituted body in a dimension where you had not existed before. This is such a place. However, you will find that there are great similarities to your own dimension…and great differences.”

“Show me.”

“That is probably unwise,” Jor-El suggested. “It is very soon after your awakening. You should recuperate and assess the information thus far provided.”

“I do not recall asking for an opinion. I have given an order. You will obey it.”

“As you wish.”

A bank of screens flared into life, and Laur-El felt the tendrils of the Artificial Intelligence’s mind reach out and touch her own. With speeds impossible for the mere human eye to detect, imagery flashed on the many monitors whilst the Kryptonian artefacts began to download information into her conscious and subconscious mind. Laur-El thanked Rao that gifts he had bestowed on her allowed her to comprehend the information, but even so, it was severely taxing. So much, as Jor-El had said, the same. So much different. There were heroes on this world, many more so than in her own space. And as a consequence, the Universe strove for balance, unleashing more super-powered villainy here than in any other place. Gods walked this Earth, mutants, mages…and other Kryptonians.

Laur-El’s heart had leapt for joy when this was discovered – she had had a counterpart here – a male counterpart at that (and she reckoned that Jor-El had indulged in some rather dangerous cosmic bet hedging here – she could have been destroyed on a technicality).

More disturbing, however, was that this Kal-El did not subscribe to proper values - living a dual life, masquerading as a Terran...indeed...breeding with one, which was a singularly disgusting notion.

More than this, it became apparent that, like her own world, this Earth had a plethora of super-powered beings to defend it. It also seemed that they were at odds with each other more often than not. And naturally, the Oans had a presence here (and where did they not have a presence?).

“Enough,” she said at length. Instantly, the “feed” stooped, and Jor-El went back to its own thoughts. Probably resisting the urge to advise her that it had told her it would be difficult.

There was much to consider, she thought as she flew away from the Heart towards the Meditation room. Here, as she herself had wished it, was monument to great Krypton, her Mother and Father’s images dominating the huge expanse, their monoliths holding aloft the great globe of their homeworld. Ever attentive, the droids brought forth a hover-chair and left her to her brooding.

Many things were different; that much was apparent from the monitor streams. Though primitive by Kryptonian (if fact by most) standards, this earth was in advance of her own. Some thirty years, in fact. In this time Terran technology had improved, but sadly Terran nature had not. At least, she mused, the Cold War was over. The Soviet Union had collapsed, and with it the omnipresent threat of total nuclear war. Then again, these extremists from the middle-east had nuclear capability, but clearly the mutually assured destruction policy of her own era was now a thing of the past.

Given the vast number of meta-humans in this dimension that has had chosen Terra as their base of operations - the Law of Balance being what it was, this over-abundance of super-powered "champions" (frankly, a title that flattered many of them) led to a corresponding number of villains, warlords and despots using Terra as their battleground.

Until recently.

Her mind replayed the last horrific years of this reality. The Terrans had cloned the Doomsday creature and has thus been the architects of their own destruction. In seeking independence from their genetic – if not moral – superiors, they had sealed their fate. Now what had once been a veritable paradise had been transformed into perdition.

Kal-El was dead. Torn to pieces by multiple “Doomsday” creatures. The word without a Superman had fallen fast into anarchic struggle with super-powered beings becoming rulers of their own petty fiefdoms. How typical of Terrans to make hay whilst their homes were burning.

One Doomsday had been virtually unstoppable. Only she – of all the Justice League – had the power to check it. And, her mind whispered, the effort was terminal.

Stopping an army of the creatures would require further analysis. At least, she thought, there were still metahumans abroad and these would have to utilised in the coming struggle.
Laur-El closed her eyes. She had much to think on.

[laurel]

Terran civilisation had collapsed. It was not a Dark Age as they had suffered a thousand years before – but it certainly bordered on the Twilight.

But for all that, there was data – and it was plentiful. As society broke down, no one cared for the valuable mines of computerised information. And for Laur-El and her symbiotic Fortress, it was mana from Rao Himself.

There seemed to be little mystery to the plight of the Terrans. They had – naturally – brought their fate upon themselves.
Father, Laur-El thought. You place much faith in these creatures. Now – as before – I fear it is misplaced. And illogical.

Her green eyes turned skywards, looking at the crystals above her. Should she flee? New Genesis? Oa? They too existed in this vibrational plane. She knew she could not, but she indulged the fantasy for a few moments.

No – Terra must be retaken. At least, she thought, the survivors would be more malleable after she had delivered them from evil. Ready to adhere to a more structured existence. Ready – as Jor-El had intended – for her to lead them out of their primitive half-lives and into a new epoch.

That was the objective – the long term objective, she reminded herself. The immediate demand was to win a war that the Terrans had brought upon themselves. She would need allies – and subordinates – to achieve victory. The Doomsday infestation had to be purged – and she alone could not manage it. One of the beasts had matched her. And now there were countless replicants, striding the planet as its New Gods.
They would be brought to heel.

Laur-El rose to her feet and walked towards a nanite chamber. The crystal shield slid into place behind her and she disrobed, casting aside her Kryptonian robes. The nanites swarmed over them ingesting them for recycling and then seethed towards her, knitting themselves into shape around her body, forming the costume that had been familiar on her own world – and, she now knew, on this one. “Superman” had been this earth’s greatest champion, a hero worshipped by all.

A sentiment not shared by her own Terrans, of course. But the people of this reality would recognise the Sigil of the House of El and that would serve her purpose.

As would the Justice League - or what was left of it at least.

Laur-El willed herself skywards as the crystals around her knitted into shape, forming at tunnel that led upwards and into the corrupted atmosphere beyond.

She burst from the Fortress, the sound barrier crashing as she sped towards the night sky, leaving the Earth in her wake.