Accused

Xavier Institute, Bayville, New York, June 25, 2008
It was a pleasant June morning when Scott and the rest of the X-Men returned to the Institute, in good spirits. Final exams had ended a few days ago, and today, their term grades had been released.
"All right!" Evan declared, as he got out from the back seat of Scott's car. "Now our vacation can get really started!"
Scott chuckled as he looked to Jean, sitting next to him in the front seat. "So, how'd you do, beautiful?"
Jean smiled. 
"Oh, I did fairly well." She replied. "You?"
"The same."
By then, Kitty and Lance had stepped out of Lance's jeep, and walked over. "I take it that everyone did well?" Kitty asked.
"I have to go call Mutter; I promised zat I'd call und tell her if I did vell!" Kurt exclaimed, before he bamfed away, leaving a cloud of sulfur in his wake.
Lance chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."
"That's great!" Kitty exclaimed. Then, she paused. "Hey, where's Ali?"
"After she got her grades, Ali had to go help Clark with a few things over in Asia; apparently, there was an earthquake in Vietnam." Scott answered.
Jean smiled. "I guess having two super-heroes around will take a bit of getting used to."
Just then, Remy pulled up on his motorcycle, and he and Rogue hopped off. 
"What about you guys?" Kitty called to them. "How'd you do?"
Rogue sighed. "Solid B+ average, fer both of us." She replied. She half-glared at Remy. "Maybe if someone hadn't been flirtin' every other minute during study time, we maht've done better!"
Remy chuckled. "Y' invite Remy t' de candy store, an' den say, 'Don' touch'? Y' so cruel t' Remy, chere." he quipped. His grin grew. "'Sides, Remy didn' recall 'earin' y' complain, at de time."
Rogue lightly blushed. "Aw, shut up, Cajun."
Just then, a sonic boom echoed overhead; this sonic boom wasn't quite as loud as the ones they were used to, as what had made it wasn't capable of flying too much faster than sound. Seconds later, Power Girl, in her uniform, slowly descended from the sky, touching down noiselessly next to them. "Hi, guys." she greeted. "I take it everyone else did well?"
"Yep." Lance replied. "You?"
Power Girl sighed. "A- average." She replied. "I'm still working on juggling super-hero work, my career, and school; I don't know how Clarkie does it."
"Hey, better than a B-, PG." Evan said.
Then, Kitty blinked. 
"Where's Clark?" She inquired. "Wasn't he with you?"
"Clark said he was going to drop by his Mom's after 'work'." Power Girl replied. "Apparently, Mrs. Kent needs a bit of help around the farm. Clark told me to go on ahead; he said he could handle things." She smiled. "I didn't want to intrude; they haven't really had a chance to talk since Mrs. Kent visited for Clark's birthday."
By then, Professor Xavier, Logan, Ororo, Thunderbird, Banshee and Hank had walked outside to greet them. The Professor smiled. 
"Judging from all of your expressions, I trust that you all did well." He said.
Scott nodded, grinning. "We did okay."
Ororo smiled. "Well done, all of you."
"Not bad." Logan said. "Just don't expect Danger Room sessions to slack off over the summer."
Scott and Jean shared a smile; Logan was just being Logan.
As they all started to head inside, Scott felt a strange sense of unease fall over him. Jean quickly noticed. "What's wrong, Scott?"
"I don't know. It's probably nothing," Scott admitted, "but I'm just getting the strangest feeling that we're being watched, somehow."
Jean lightly smiled. "It's probably just your imagination, Slim."
Scott smiled back. "Yeah, you're probably right." he agreed. With that, he and Jean followed the rest of their friends inside...
...but still...some tiny part of Scott felt that Jean was wrong...
Deep Space
In the middle of the solar system, far from any deep-space Earth probes, a single, spherical automaton floated in the black of space, watching the bright blue planet from unimaginably vast distances, at the very outermost limits of its scanners...but it was the only safe distance to scan from, now that it had confirmed its masters' worst fears.
Kree Sentry 469725 continued scanning the Earth facility – the 'Xavier Institute,' as it was called – as it had been doing for the past several Earth-days, constantly broadcasting its data-feed back to its masters, while waiting for further instruction.
And even further out, at the very edges of the solar system, the massive Kree Fra-Kesh-Class Heavy Cruiser loomed, waiting like a predator for its tiny prey to dart out of its hole.
Aboard the bridge of the Cruiser, Supreme Public Accuser Ronan looked over the bridge-crew from his command-chair, waiting.
Finally, they were here. After dispatching a Sentry to scan Earth from a distance – and waiting for the data-stream to reach them – he had confirmed his suspicions. There was a Kryptonian power-signature coming from Earth; it was emanating from a Kryptonian outpost at the planet's north magnetic pole. After that discovery, the Sentry had held its position and commenced with remote scanning; hopefully, the Sentry gave off too little of a power-signature for the outpost's scanners to pick it up at that distance.
Once he had confirmed it, Ronan had sent word to the rest of the Empire, top priority. The response had been swift: one of the Kree people's most hated enemies had survived. Within hours of sending that message, a massive Colosseum-ship had jumped within range of his own ship; from that ship, once they had captured the Kryptonian scum, Ronan could judge him, and that glorious moment would be broadcasted all over the Empire. His family's honor would be forever restored.
All they had to do now was locate him...
"Lord Accuser, sir! We're getting a data-feed from the Sentry!"
Ronan instantly rose from his seat. 
"Report." He ordered.
The communications officer gulped. "Well, my Lord, we have determined where the Kryptonian most likely calls home: it is a facility on the Earth-continent North America."
Ronan frowned. "And..?"
"W-Well, my Lord...it appears that...that the legends about the Kryptonian people are true."
Ronan's frown grew into a snarl. "What?"
"It's true, my Lord! See for yourself!" the officer exclaimed, gesturing to the screen. Ronan walked over, and looked; the screen showed a map of the planet...and a single red dot moving back and forth all over the planet, at incredible speeds.
"So...the tales are true." Ronan muttered. "Under the light of a yellow sun, those scum gained unnatural power."
"Y-Yes, sir." the officer said. He gulped. "We...we were fortunate to have never engaged them on a planet with a yellow star."
Ronan's glare made the officer reconsider that statement, before the Supreme Public Accuser returned to his thoughts. "Would our Power-Suppression Collars have any effect?"
"It's unlikely, my Lord; the Collars act to suppress any abilities that the average genome of the target-species do not grant. For a Kryptonian, that kind of power is natural – at least, under yellow sunlight."
"The sun is his strength." Ronan thought. "If we remove him from it, then he is powerless." He started to smile. "Order several of our fighters to enter Earth's atmosphere; we'll capture him with our teleporters, and take him to the Colosseum..."
"Again, my Lord, that is not likely to work." The officer said. "The Kryptonian moves much too swiftly in the atmosphere for our fighters to catch him."
Ronan scowled. 
"Then we attack." He snarled. "We'll move the ship into bombardment range, and we won't stop until he surrenders."
"Um...my Lord?" the officer piped up. "Are you certain that such an action is wise..?"
Instantly, Ronan had grabbed the officer by the throat, and pulled him up to his eye-level. "You dare question my orders?!" He roared.
"P-Please, forgive me, my Lord!" The officer stammered. "I d-do not mean to question you...but...it is m-my duty to at least raise these concerns, for your sake, my Lord!"
The officer's apparently heartfelt loyalty calmed Ronan's rage enough to put him down. "Explain."
The comms officer took a deep breath. "Lord Accuser, the last encounter we had with a Kryptonian was 500 years ago; a single, light-armed Kryptonian vessel strayed into a battle between our forces and the Skrulls. At once, both sides turned to annihilate the ship; the Skrulls hated the Kryptonians almost as much as we do."
Ronan chuckled. "Likely their only redeeming quality."
The entire bridge crew softly chuckled at that. Only the officer remained calm. "My Lord, it took both sides to bring that ship down, and in that time, that single ship – that single light-armed ship – inflicted untold damage to both battle-groups." The officer looked grave. "In the 500 years since, Lord Accuser, our own technology is virtually unchanged; the same could be said for the Skrulls. Not only that, the Kryptonians have had five centuries to innovate and improve...which they are well-known for doing."
Ronan's teeth clenched. "Insufferable Kryptonian cleverness...the meddlers of the universe." he growled. "They dared to think we would actually lay down our arms and talk of peace to the Skrulls?!" At that, murmurs of agreement filled the air. Calming, Ronan added, "But I understand your point, Officer. Tell me...what would you recommend?"
The officer gulped. "Well, my Lord...based on his activities, it seems that the Kryptonian has befriended the humans dwelling at this 'Institute.'" he said. "One detail of note is that all these humans possess a distinct genetic mutation – one which they have termed the 'X-Gene,' my Lord. If we use the Sentry as a distraction...it may be possible for several fighters to slip in."
Ronan smiled as he understood. "We take his friends...and lure him to us." he finished. He placed his hand on the smaller Kree's shoulder. "Well done."
The officer smiled, overjoyed. "Th-Thank you, my Lord!" he exclaimed. Then, his expression turned grave. "There...there is another thing you should see, my Lord." he added. "We have managed to identify the Kryptonian." With that, he tapped a few keys, bringing up an image.
It always repulsed Ronan how much the humans and Kryptonians looked alike; it made him sick to even look at the people of Earth. The image was of the Kryptonian – a male youth, actually flying from the unnatural powers the sun gave him – clad in a red-and-blue variant of the Kryptonian military uniform...
...but what utterly infuriated Ronan was the crest upon the Kryptonian's chest.
Ronan let out a roar of sheer rage, as his Universal Weapon crackled with energy as his grip on it tightened. "AN EL" he roared. As if having a survivor of Krypton was not insult enough, the survivor was from the very family that had designed and built the accursed Sentrius, the very thing that had disgraced his family..!
"There's more, my Lord." The officer finished, as he brought up another image. This image was of a flying female, in early adulthood, close to the same age as the Kryptonian, and clad in a silver uniform, similar in design to the Kryptonian's...with the crest of the House of Lir – the cohorts to the House of El in building Sentrius – upon the uniform's chest.
Ronan's eyes narrowed. "Another one..."
"Almost, my Lord." the officer said. "She appears to be a part-human descendant of the Kryptonian that crashed on Earth, 500 years ago."
"Send out the fighters." Ronan ordered, his fists shaking. "Capture those humans – every last one of them. And deploy several ground troops at the Pole; capture or destroy that structure; we will either possess their technology at long last, or ensure that it never falls into Skrull hands." He could barely contain his rage.
At the same time, he couldn't believe it; he would have his revenge on the descendants of Sentrius' creators. The gods were smiling on him. His revenge would be perfect...
...and he would wait no longer to have it.
Kent Farm, Smallville, Kansas
The afternoon sun shone over the small Kent farm as Martha Kent, in her work overalls and flannel shirt, emerged from her barn. "You can just toss those bales up into the hay-loft, Clark." she called, smiling.
At his Ma's request, Clark walked out of the barn, clad in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, carrying two large bales of hay. "Sure thing, Ma!" he exclaimed, smiling. Then, with perfect accuracy, he tossed the hay-bales up into the barn's hay-loft. "Anything else you needed help with?"
"Well, there is a bit of ploughing that needs doing," Martha said, "but we can work on that after lunch." She smiled. "I'll just fix us some sandwiches." With that, she headed towards the house, and Clark promptly followed.
Within minutes of stepping inside, Martha had fixed them both some sandwiches, and they had sat down to a nice, quiet lunch. Clark smiled; even after being gone for so long, this place still felt like home.
Before long, they had finished their meal, and simply sat there, as Clark's Ma calmly sipped her tea. "So," Martha said, "you said that your friends got their grades, today?"
Clark nodded. "They all passed, with flying colors."
"That's wonderful, Clark." Martha said, smiling. "And how is everyone at the Institute?"
"They're all fine, Ma." Clark said, smiling. "Some of the New Mutants are still trying to prank me, but I think they're getting the message."
Martha chuckled. "Well, your father and I certainly didn't raise any fools." she said. Her smile grew. "And how are you and Alison doing?"
Clark grinned. "We're both fine, Ma." he said. "She's really been a great help during 'work'."
"Yes, I had thought so; apparently, there have been a few sightings of another flying person, helping Superman on a few occasions." Martha said, chuckling. "I hope you've told her how much you appreciate her helping you."
"Of course, Ma!" Clark said, smiling.
"That's good, honey." Martha said softly, her smile becoming a bit wistful. "I'm so glad to know that you're doing fine."
His mother's tone of voice put Clark on edge. "Ma...what's wrong?"
Martha lightly flinched, before smiling weakly. 
"Jonathan and I always did have such a hard time of putting one over on you." She murmured. "We always had to write out our Christmas shopping lists, so that you couldn't hear us..."
"Ma..." Clark said.
Martha took a deep breath. 
"Clark..." She said softly, "...I have something to tell you..." Suddenly, she erupted into a fit of coughing.
"Ma!" Clark cried, bolting to his feet. "Ma, what's wrong?!" Martha couldn't reply, since she was coughing so much, but she managed to point to a nearby cupboard. Clark's eyes flashed electric-blue as he used his X-Ray vision...spotting a jar of medication. He darted over to it and took out the jar, before handing it to his Ma. Martha promptly took out one pill, put it in her mouth, and swallowed.
As soon as she had done so, the coughing started to subside; within seconds, it was gone. Martha looked at her son heartbrokenly. "I'm...I'm so sorry you had to see that, Clark..."
Clark felt his head start to spin as he started to put things together. His Ma needing his help...the cough he'd heard when he' called her before Christmas...even now, she looked thinner, and much frailer than usual...it all came to one horrifying conclusion. "Ma...you're very sick..."
Martha smiled weakly. "I had thought about telling you at either Christmas or your birthday...but I just couldn't; those were supposed to be happy days, sweetheart." she murmured. "I'm not sick, Clark. I'm dying."
Clark felt as though someone had just stabbed him in the heart with a Kryptonite dagger. "D-Dying?!"
Martha nodded. "I have Van Braun's Syndrome, Clark; it's a genetic disease – I've had it ever since I was born. My DNA is gradually losing its ability to repair itself." She continued. "I got a report from the doctor a few days after Jonathan and I found you. Apparently, there are three possible stages to it – three levels of affliction. Stage One – the kind I have – is the slowest progression, giving the patient some chance for longevity. Stage Two is much more severe, and as for Stage Three...well, Stage Threes are lucky to make it out of childbirth." She weakly smiled. "It's the reason why I could never have a child of my own; it started in my ovaries, and has been spreading slowly ever since."
Clark's scientific mind processed this, while the rest of his psyche was reeling in shock; proper DNA repair was critical in meiosis, which generated gametes – if repair was missing, mutations could accumulate, causing meiosis to stall completely. And if repair-capability was lost altogether...
"How...long..?" Clark finally managed to choke out.
Martha sighed. 
"The doctors say that I have two years, at most." She replied. "In fact, they're confident that I'll make it to two years, since I take care of myself."
Clark felt his eyes start to sting. "There...there must be something we can do..."
Martha smiled sadly, and shook her head. 
"It's incurable, honey." She answered.
"Well...w-what about gene therapy?" Clark said. "That should get things back to normal, and I'm sure that the Professor would gladly pay for it..."
"No, Clark, that won't work; they still haven't located the exact genes that cause this. Gene therapy can't help...at least, not yet."
Clark suppressed a sob. "Well...well, fine, I'll just look through the medical archives in the Fortress. Kryptonian medicine is eons ahead of Earth medicine; my people could have easily fixed something like this!"
Martha slowly stood up. "Clark..."
"There has to be a cure, Ma!" Clark continued, fighting tears. "I'll find it! If there's a procedure, I'll learn it, and I'll..!"
Martha placed a fingertip on Clark's mouth, shushing him. "No, Clark." she said simply. "I don't want you to do that."
Clark's eyes went wide. "But...but Ma..." He whimpered, his eyes watering, "...I can save you..."
Martha instantly hugged her son, holding him close. 
"Oh, sweetie." She cooed, "I know you can." She moved back, to look him in the eyes, smiling through tears. "But don't you see? This is natural. This is how I'm supposed to die."
Clark fought hard to keep from sobbing. "Don't...d-don't say that, Ma..."
"Honey, I've known this was coming ever since we adopted you." Martha said. "For a while, I didn't want to believe it, either." She smiled as tears started to fall from her eyes. "But do you know what? I understood why I had it; I couldn't have a child of my own because God was giving me a beautiful little baby boy that He wanted me to look after."
Clark felt tears start to run down his face. "Ma..."
"I've had a good life, Clark." Martha continued. "I had the child I'd always wanted; I got to see my beautiful baby grow up; I got to see him leave the nest...and find his way back; I got to see him find a new family, and meet someone special; and I got to see him become the amazing man he is today." Her smile grew. "I have no regrets." She chuckled. "Well, maybe just one: that I never got to see my grandchildren, but I'll be okay with that."
Clark felt the tears speed up. "But Ma..."
"I know this is hard, honey." Martha said, hugging him, "But this is what's supposed to be...just like with your father..."
"No, Ma!" Clark cried. "Pa died because I just wasn't fast enough!"
Martha hugged him tighter. 
"Oh, no, sweetheart." She cooed. "It was not your fault, do you hear me?" She held her son close. "Ever since you left, I couldn't understand why your father had to leave us...until I first saw you start to do what you do...and I just knew: that was why Jonathan had to leave. God had given us the task of raising you; He decided that Jonathan's task was finished, and He called him home." She smiled tearfully. "And it's the same thing with me, sweetie; God thinks I've done what He wanted me to do...and now He wants me to come home."
"But...but I don't want you to go, Ma..." Clark whimpered, hugging his Ma closer.
Martha smiled. 
"Sweetheart." She cooed, "No matter what happens to me, I'll always be with you, looking down on you, with your father; we'll be the proudest parents in Heaven." She smiled. "Well...maybe the second-proudest."
Clark said nothing; he only hugged his mother closer, crying silently. Martha remained silent as well, as mother and son just held each other for a little while longer.