The Bridge - Kryptonian Scout Ship
The walls were ribbed with black, organic metal that looked like the interior of a fossilized ribcage.
The air was cold, recycled for millennia, tasting of stale nitrogen and dead starlight.
Ernst stood over the central control interface.
It wasn't a keyboard.
It was a pool of liquid geometry, a ferroliquid display that shifted and rippled in response to his touch.
"Red Queen," Ernst asked, his voice echoing in the vast, silent chamber.
"The survivor," he pressed, watching the liquid metal form shapes.
"Is there a flight log? A destination?"
"Negative," the AI replied.
Her voice was synthesized, harmonic, sounding like three voices speaking in unison.
"The escape pod was jettisoned approximately 18,000 solar cycles ago. The occupant's bio-signature was deleted from the primary logs."
"The trajectory suggests a crash landing in the northern hemisphere, but geological shifts would have buried the site miles deep."
The AI paused, the red particles swirling.
"If they survived the ice age, the lack of solar radiation absorption in this atmosphere would have left them mortal. They are long dead."
Ernst frowned, tapping his fingers against the cold metal rim of the console.
He knew the lore.
He knew about the prequel comics, about Kara Zor-El, about the devastating history of the expansion initiative.
"Or they are immortal," Ernst murmured to himself.
"Or they found a way to hibernate. Or they are walking among us, forgetting who they are."
He shook his head, clearing the thought.
"We'll shelf that mystery for now. The dead can wait. The living cannot."
He turned his attention away from the bridge and walked toward the archway leading to the adjacent chamber.
The Genesis Chamber.
It was a haunting sight.
Rows of artificial wombs lined the walls, suspended from the ceiling like fruit on a vine.
They were filled with a translucent, amber fluid.
Inside, the faint, skeletal outlines of fetuses that had died thousands of years ago floated in suspended animation, preserved but lifeless.
"The Genesis Chamber," Ernst pointed, his finger tracing the curve of the glass.
"Can it still grow life?"
"The equipment is functional," Red Queen confirmed, floating through the wall to join him.
"The nutrient synthesizers are at 88% capacity. The amniotic regulation systems are operational."
"However," the AI added, "the feedstock is depleted. I have no genetic templates to weave."
"I don't need feedstock," Ernst said.
His voice dropped to a whisper, shedding the arrogance of the commander and revealing the desperation of a father.
"I need a cure."
He walked up to one of the empty pods, placing his hand on the cold surface.
"I have a son. He was born prematurely. Barely a fetus. His lungs were undeveloped, his heart a fluttering bird."
Ernst's reflection in the glass looked tired.
"He is currently in a stasis tank in London, fighting for every breath. Human medicine keeps him alive, but it cannot build him. It cannot finish what nature abandoned."
He turned to the hologram.
"Can this technology stabilize him? Can it simulate the trace elements of a mother? Can I synthesize a nurturing environment using compounds like CPH4 to accelerate his development?"
"Negative," Red Queen said coldly.
Her logic was absolute, devoid of empathy.
"Kryptonian gestation does not rely on maternal hormones. We do not use biological surrogacy. We use the Codex."
"The Codex?" Ernst repeated.
"The Registry of Citizens," Red Queen explained.
She waved a hand, and the liquid console shifted.
A new hologram appeared in the air.
It was a skull.
Black, fossilized, and covered in intricate, glowing runes.
It looked primal, terrifying, and beautiful.
"Eons ago, Krypton was dying, ravaged by a war against a celestial predator and internal strife. The generated population had become stagnant. To ensure survival, the last of the Elder Gods sacrificed his life essence, infusing his genetic code into his own skull."
The hologram spun slowly.
"This artifact, the Codex, radiates the energy required to stabilize and enhance our embryos. It maps the genome. It assigns purpose."
"Without the Codex, the Genesis Chamber is just a jar. It can sustain tissue, yes, but it cannot grant it the spark of higher function. Your son would survive, but he would be a vegetable."
Ernst stared at the skull.
He felt a spike of genuine anger. He slammed his hand on the console, the sound ringing out like a gunshot.
"So, without that skull, I can't save him."
The realization hit him hard.
He remembered the movie Man of Steel.
He remembered Jor-El stealing the Codex, bonding it to Kal-El's cells before launching him to Earth.
That was why Superman was a god.
He wasn't just a strong alien; he was the walking library of his entire race.
He was the blueprint.
And that blueprint wouldn't arrive on Earth for another forty years.
"My son will have to wait," Ernst muttered, the bitterness coating his tongue.
He looked at the empty pod one last time.
"I need to find another way. Perhaps the Heart-Shaped Herb... or the Fountain of Youth... or simply time."
He took a deep breath, compartmentalizing his disappointment.
He locked the father away and brought the scientist back to the forefront.
"Red Queen, initiate launch sequence."
"Destination?"
"Take us to geostationary orbit. Position the ship over the North American continent. Engage stealth cloaking and reflective shielding."
"Affirmative."
The ship hummed.
It wasn't the roar of a rocket engine.
It was the deep, resonant purr of a gravity drive waking up after an 18,000-year nap.
Above them, the miles of glacial ice that had entombed the ship began to crack.
The heat shielding engaged.
WOOSH.
The ship shot upward, a black dart punching through the ice sheet.
Steam and shattered glaciers exploded outward, but inside the bridge, there was no turbulence.
The inertial dampeners were perfect.
They soared into the stratosphere, the sky shifting from blinding white to azure blue, then to indigo.
Within minutes, the blue sky turned to the infinite, star-speckled black of space.
Ernst stood by the viewport, a massive crystalline window that offered a panoramic view of the planet below.
He looked down at the Earth.
It was a marble of blue and white, fragile, small, and currently engulfed in the flames of a world war that looked like insignificant sparks from this height.
"Beautiful," Azazel whispered.
The demon was floating slightly, his tail drifting behind him like seaweed in a current.
The artificial gravity was slowly adjusting to the orbital transition.
"I have lived for thousands of years... I have walked the Abyss... but I have never seen the world from above."
Azazel pressed a clawed hand against the glass.
"It looks so... breakable."
"Get used to it," Ernst said, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"This is our vantage point. This is where the gods sit."
He turned back to the console.
"Red Queen."
"Yes, Doctor?"
"Establish a neural link," Ernst commanded.
"Interface with my cerebral cortex. I want to use the ship's processing power to regulate my brain activity."
"Explain," the AI requested.
"My brain is enhanced," Ernst said, tapping his temple.
"But it is running too hot. The biological hardware cannot keep up with the software. I need you to act as a heatsink. Offload the background calculations. Monitor my vitals and keep me at 29% capacity."
"Any higher," Ernst warned, "and the signal dampens. I lose the connection to the Reality Stone's latent energy. I need to be efficient, not overwhelmed."
"Link established," the AI replied.
A beam of soft red light scanned Ernst.
"Processing load distributed."
Ernst felt a wave of physical relief wash over him.
The constant, buzzing pressure in his skull, the roar of a million variables, the sound of his own cells dividing, the mathematical noise of the universe, vanished.
It was silence. Pure, focused clarity.
The ship was now doing the heavy lifting, calculating the physics of the universe so he didn't have to.
He felt lighter, sharper.
"Now," Ernst said, cracking his neck.
He turned his eyes to the corner of the bridge.
Floating there, trapped in a stasis field Azazel was maintaining with his own telekinetic focus, was the service droid.
It was the machine that had attacked them when they first breached the hull.
"Waste not, want not," Ernst murmured.
He walked over to the alien machine.
It was a masterpiece of Kryptonian engineering.
It wasn't made of gears and pistons; it was made of hyper-alloy, liquid geometry that flowed and hardened on command.
"Azazel, release it."
"Are you sure, boss?" Azazel asked, eyeing the floating silver tentacle-bot.
"It tried to drill a hole in my chest five minutes ago."
"Release it."
Azazel shrugged and dropped the field.
As the invisible grip vanished, the droid's sensors flared red.
It shrieked, its limbs forming into spinning blades, and lunged at Ernst.
Ernst didn't flinch. He didn't dodge.
He simply raised his hand.
Molecular Disassembly.
His eyes glowed with a flash of electric blue.
He didn't just break the robot; he unmade it.
He reached into the atomic structure of the hyper-alloy and severed the bonds holding it together.
The metal didn't shatter. It liquefied.
The droid froze in mid-air, then collapsed into a swirling cloud of silver droplets, floating in the zero-gravity like mercury.
"I need armor," Ernst murmured, his hands conducting the floating metal as if he were leading an orchestra.
"Something responsive. Something alive."
He closed his eyes, visualizing the technology of the future he remembered.
He thought of Tony Stark's Bleeding Edge armor, nanotech stored in the bone marrow.
He thought of the Black Panther's vibranium weave.
"Reform," he commanded.
The metal swarm obeyed.
It swirled around him, a silver tornado.
The droplets condensed, shrinking, folding in on themselves until they were millions of microscopic robots.
They settled onto his clothes.
They sank into the fabric of his lab coat and his suit.
The transformation was seamless.
The white cotton of the lab coat darkened, turning into a sleek, silver-grey material that looked like leather but shone like polished chrome.
It formed a tactical trench coat, high-collared and long, fitting him like a second skin.
"Nanites," Ernst explained to a stunned Azazel.
"Programmable matter. Kryptonian alloy controlled by my will."
"Defense mode," Ernst commanded.
Instantly, the fabric rippled.
It hardened. The silver metal flowed over his skin, covering his neck, his hands, his chest.
It formed a full-body carapace, segmented and flexible, shimmering like liquid mercury.
Ernst tapped his chest.
Clang.
The sound was solid, dense.
"Impervious to small arms fire," he noted.
"Resistance to thermal and kinetic shock. It disperses impact energy across the entire surface area."
"Attack mode."
The metal on his right hand flowed outward.
It elongated, sharpening, until five razor-edged claws extended from his fingertips.
On his left arm, the nanites assembled into a complex geometric shape.
They formed a glowing red cannon barrel, a directed energy weapon powered by his own bio-electricity, channeled through the suit.
"Perfect," Ernst grinned.
He mentally commanded the suit to retract.
The metal flowed back, softening, until he looked like a man wearing a stylish, grey trench coat again.
He checked his internal clock.
"We have the ship. We have the AI. We have the suit. Time to go home."
He walked to the center of the bridge.
"Red Queen, maintain orbit. Monitor global communications. Scan for keywords: 'Alien,' 'Mutant,' 'Artifact,' 'Hydra,' 'SSR.' If anything happens that deviates from the historical baseline I uploaded, wake me up."
"Understood, Dr. Ernst. Entering silent watch."
Ernst grabbed Azazel's hand.
The demon looked at the suit, then at the ship, and finally at Ernst.
"You really are planning to take over everything, aren't you?"
"I'm not taking over, Azazel," Ernst said, the blue light of Earth reflecting in his eyes.
"I'm optimizing."
"Take us back to London."
BAMF.
The air imploded.
They vanished from the bridge, leaving the silent sentinel to watch over the spinning world below.
-------------
Authors Note:
Do you want to read 25+ Chapters ahead right now?
Stop waiting. Come over to the dark side. We have cookies, advanced chapters, and very, very detailed 'plot.'
patreon.com/
Dark_sym