Supergirl (3 page)

Slowly the inner lines of light expanded, spreading outward . . . pulsing . . . whiter and whiter. . . .

The Zone of White Light burst around her deafening. . . . She threw up her hands with a cry of fear. . . . Her eyes . . . her eyes! The light was everywhere, swallowing the spaceship, which pulsated like a tiny bleached heart in a vast amorphous white body.

Again, time unknown . . . a long time . . . a short time . . . an endless time . . . time curved and came back on itself, a ribbon of time. . . And in that timeless time, as she left the Zone of White Light and crossed through the Register from Inner Space to Outer Space, Kara underwent a slow, subtle transformation. No longer the gawky fifteen-year-old, she had become a beautiful, self-possessed young woman of seventeen.

Still locked on to the path of the glowing Omegahedron, the spaceship emerged into a Limbo of green, swollen light. On and on the little ship surged, on and on into the thickening light which dashed itself against the ship like water. . . deep green water. On and on Kara journeyed . . . up now, up, up, up, ever upward, following the Omegahedron, up, up, upward through the thick green water toward the light.

On a grassy incline above the lake, a dashing couple—or were they simply strange?—had taken possession of a perfect spot for a picnic. "Ah, this world," the woman, Selena, said, stretching sensuously. She was very beautiful and knew it. "Such a gorgeous world. I can hardly wait until it's—
all mine."
Her mouth twitched greedily. "The question, my dear Nigel, is how to make it mine while I'm still young enough to enjoy the goodies."

Giving Selena a little I-hear-you-but-more-important-things-are-occupying-me grin, Nigel pulled a bottle of wine out of the picnic hamper. He had packed the hamper with loving care. It overflowed with gourmet delicacies, at the moment more interesting to Nigel than Selena's familiar dreams of power. He pulled out a long loaf of crisp French bread and broke off the crusty end.

They had parked Selena's Cadillac Seville on the gravel road overlooking the lake and walked down the grassy incline, though Selena, in a mink-lined chamois jacket, kid trousers, and suede boots, was hardly dressed for the terrain.

She was a fortune-teller. Nigel, a math teacher (by necessity) and part-time warlock (by choice), thought they were a perfect couple. Selena was definitely not sure about that. Right now, it was convenient to let Nigel hang around. In the future . . . ? Darling! Even a fortune-teller can't foretell
everything.

"The only way to rule the world, my pumpkin, is—" Nigel paused to pass his beloved a plate of cold lobster, "to become invisible"

Selena considered that. Not a bad idea. "How do I do it?"

Nigel waved a lobster claw in the air. "Collect five black beans. Start the rite on a Wednesday before sunrise. Take the head of a dead man and put one bean in his mouth, two in his eyes, and two in his ears—"

"Enough!"

"It works, my little gourd. Invisible, you can go anywhere, do any—"

"Nigel," Selena interrupted, "how long have we been together?"

Nigel gazed at his beautiful inspiration. "Months, my fabulous darling."

"Then, why," Selena asked, "does it seem like—
years?
"

Nigel blanched. "Patience, Selena. You want everything yesterday. It takes a lifetime to learn the ancient secrets of black magic—"

"I don't
have
a lifetime, Nigel; get that through your head."

Nigel smiled placatingly. Selena was so adorable when she was furious. "Some more Chablis, my sweetness?"

"
DON'T
call me your sweetness. I am not yours. I am not sweet. I am Selena—" She leaned toward him, enunciating each word. "Selena, a bitter, bitter pill—"

A long, eerie, high-pitched whistle interrupted her tirade.

"Holy cow," Nigel said. "Do you see what I see?"

Hundreds of feet above the lake, the Omegahedron hung in the air like a star. But even as Selena and Nigel stared, it dropped sharply, angling toward the shore . . . and them.

Selena leaped up, clearing the picnic basket in a bounding flurry of fur coat and suede boots. Nigel dived in the opposite direction, with the clear desire to bury himself in the deep grass. Selena's flight carried her up the incline and left her crouching behind her Caddy.

The Omegahedron, unruffled by all this human activity, crashed into the picnic basket. Lobster, French bread, and wine sprayed in every direction. Puffs of smoke rose into the air, then settled.

Peering around the car, Selena drew in a sharp breath. That strange, sparkling object . . . Why did she suddenly understand that there, right there in the lobster sauce, was the answer to all her prayers, her hopes, her wishes, her demands and dreams? Dreams . . . yes, dreams . . . dreams of power . . . money . . . gold . . . power . . . She walked to the Omegahedron and knelt down in front of it, her face suffused by its bizarre glow.

"Immortality be upon this one," she whispered in a measured chant. "Me," she added, just so there would be no mistake. Then slowly, slowly, savoring this superb moment in which her entire life would be changed, she picked up the Omegahedron.

"Now am I a sharer of the Sun's everlasting life," she whisper-chanted.

She brought the Omegahedron closer to her . . . closer . . . Its light bathed her face in subtly sinister shades. "Now will there be no danger of death. . ." she chanted. "This world is mine . . . now . . .
RISE UP!
"

On the last words, she uncoiled to her full height and came face to face with Nigel.

Poor Nigel! He cringed. "What . . . what is it?" Selena smiled at him pityingly. Poor Nigel, indeed. "The Sun, the Wind, the Rain—all, all are with me, now and forever." Proud, disdainful, she tromped through the remnants of Nigel's picnic toward her car.

"Selena!" Nigel bleated. "What's going on?"

Again a smile crossed her face, but this one laced with cruel indifference. "Life marches on, Nigel, and I'm marching past you."

"You can't treat me like this," he said, understanding that she could and she would. Selena's face frightened him. No, no, he reassured himself, that was
Selena
, the same Selena he knew and adored: beautiful, ambitious, dissatisfied, and immoral. Dear Selena! Yet . . . yet wasn't there something else now in her face? Something primeval and vicious. "I can send you back where you came from, Selena. If it wasn't for me, baby, you'd still be reading tea leaves at Lake Tahoe."

It didn't work. She got into the car and slammed the door.

Without Selena's doing anything, the car radio came to life with a burst of sound. ". . . This morning, the President confirmed reports that Superman has indeed embarked on a special peace-seeking mission to a galaxy scientists estimate may be several hundred trillion light years from our own. . ."

Fascinated, Selena brought her shiny new toy closer to the radio. The sound notched up. ". . .
BUT WHICH NEVERTHELESS JUST LAST WEEK SENT A STARTLING MICROWAVE COMMUNICATION TO THE OVAL OFFICE
. . . ."

"You're not running out on me, Selena," Nigel yelled.

". . .
THE PRESIDENT DECLINED COMMENT ON THE LENGTH OF SUPERMAN'S ABSENCE FROM EARTH, BUT A RELIABLE SOURCE IN THE STATE DEPARTMENT SAID, 'I DON'T CARE HOW FAST HE FLIES, THESE THINGS TAKE TIME.
' "

"I have the keys, sweetheart," Nigel yelled, clicking them in the air.

Selena moved the Omegahedron toward the ignition. The engine turned over. She spared Nigel one satisfied glance, then put the car into gear and backed expertly up the road.

While Nigel and Selena were having their lovers' spat, other events were taking place not too far away. Though sublimely uncaring, the lake had, on this day, played host to an unusual event—the emergence of the Omegahedron. Now, yet another extraordinary episode took place, and the lake remained as uninvolved, as uncaring as ever. Yet, had either Nigel or Selena been there to witness Kara's entrance, they surely would have been even more awed than when first confronted with the Omegahedron. Who before had ever seen a human being issue forth as she did, from the surface of that body of water? In slow motion, as it were, wearing a blue leotard covered by a flying red cape, Kara seemed to bloom like an exotic plant from the surface of the lake. Arms pressed to her sides, she passed from water . . . to air . . . to land.

What a strange, fascinating world, Kara thought. Standing on the shore, she didn't know what to look at first. To begin with, where was the dome that covered and kept safe the people of this place? Was that it above her, so blue, so high? She picked up a stone, running her fingers over it. To her astonishment, under her touch, the stone dissolved into a heap of powdered dust. A puff of her breath and the dust disappeared.

Neat-o!

She picked a closed flower and held it to her face, staring at it with deep concentration. A second passed, another second . . .and under the incredible power of her Heat Vision, the flower bloomed!

What next? Looking down, she was again astonished. She was hovering above the ground as easily as if solid land, not air, were beneath her feet.

What is this? Does everyone on this planet have these tremendous powers? Hmmm . . . I did hear something about my cousin, Clark Kent . . . something about super powers that only he has . . . This hovering is allll right!

Once more she looked up at the sky, stretched like a blue skin above her. Who had made it that way? Who had ever thought of such a blue blue? Oh, to touch that blueness . . .

The wish was mother to the action. Kara sped straight upward, her cape billowing out behind her. Flew for the first time.
Flew
. Never mind that dinky little jump out of the lake onto the shore.
This
was flying . . . pure speed . . . pure exhilaration . . . the purest joy she had ever known. She twisted, turned, dove toward the lake, then sped upward again, straight up, up, up toward that wonderful blue.

Nigel shifted the picnic basket from one arm to the other. A car approached on the gravel road, and he stopped to face it, putting up his thumb hopefully. Surely, somebody would stop for a man in a pinstriped jacket. The car, packed full of laughing girls, passed him. Little darlings! They reminded him unpleasantly of the scholars into whose heads he tried to pound basic principles of mathematics. He trudged on, thinking again of the way Selena had driven off

And left him.
Who does she think she is ? The nerve . . . after all Ive done for her. . . Well, I'm through with her. This time I mean it . . . I have my pride . . . Treats me like a doormat . . . Next time I'll tell her a thing or two or three, all right, all right . . .

This satisfying train of thought was interrupted by a low-pitched
whoooosh
. Looking up, Nigel saw something splendid, something red and blue and flying. His heart constricted. Superman! Or was it? There was something about the flying figure that startled Nigel, that made it seem to be Superman, but yet not Superman—a tiny red skirt over the familiar blue costume. He stared, puzzled, until the flying red-and-blue creature was out of sight. He looked around for someone to tell.
Do you know what I just saw! I think Superman has a little sister. No, don't laugh, I saw her, flying, and her little red skirt . . .
He looked both ways, but the road was deserted. Nigel sighed deeply and shifted the picnic basket. This just wasn't his day.

High above a mountain meadow fragrant with grass and wildflowers, Kara swooped low over a herd of horses.
Whoooosh
. She dove toward them. The horses threw back their heads, whinnying, and galloped away, their tails whipping in the wind. Kara pulled out of her dive and soared up, looping and rolling in great circles . . . arms outspread, like a golden eagle . . . then diving . . . and soaring . . . and diving . . . but always, always, returning to soar again toward the blue.

Dusk fell. Against the sky, banded with pale mauves and purples, the ocean drummed restlessly. Kara came down to earth, landing as gracefully as if she had been airborne all her life. Slowly, the exhilaration of flight left her. Now was the lonely time. She thought of her family, of Zaltar, of all the people of Argo who were depending on her. The sense of her mission was reawakened.

For hours she had forgotten the Omegahedron, but now she looked soberly at the bracelet Zaltar had made for her. What had he said?
Here, Kara, keep this, it will protect you. It's made from the same living material as our beloved Argo City
. Living material? The bracelet was lifeless, the berry dull against her skin.

She walked west, into the sunset, a small figure on the long deserted stretch of beach. She was alone. Alone . . . Alone forever, unless she found the Omegahedron and returned with it to Argo City.
Unless?
she thought. Unless she found the Omegahedron? No. She would find it. She must find it.

While Nigel trudged one way on the gravel road above the lake and Kara another, Selena returned joyfully home to her best companion, friend, and favorite boot-licker, Bianca.

Home was a Ghost Train on the midway of a bleak, deserted carnival grounds. Outside, the Ghost Train was, as Ghost Trains ought to be, spooky. Inside, this cozy little den was mostly musty, usually dusty, always windowless, and completely cluttered with great massive chunks of furniture and a vast assortment of battered old carnival artifacts. Wherever the eye landed, there was something else to muse over—streaky fun-house mirrors, a garishly painted canvas backdrop of a dimpled, elephantine fat lady in a little pink tutu, piles of pink-and-green plastic kewpie dolls, and a fortune-telling machine made in the shape of a demented hag with two long teeth jutting out from withered gums. Home is where the heart is. Selena was home.

"Beeeeeeeeeee-an-ca," she called. "I'm here. Show your face, darling. I have a sur-priiiiise!" Cradling the glowing Omegahedron in one arm, Selena pulled off her little mink-lined jacket, then rummaged through the foot-high mess of papers, cards, beads, dice, and stale doughnuts on her desk until she found what she was looking for.