With restored access to the ship's systems, Jor-El began weaving the tapestry of Krypton's final days for his son. Quantum particles materialized in the air around them, forming three-dimensional murals that pulsed with life and motion. The holographic displays transformed the chamber into a window across space and time, showing Clark the rise and fall of a civilization that had reached for the stars only to destroy itself from within.
Clark absorbed every detail with desperate hunger, years of questions finally finding their answers. The weight that had pressed against his chest since childhood, the fear that his existence might herald Earth's doom, that he was somehow the advance scout for an alien invasion, began to lift with each revelation.
His biological parents hadn't abandoned him out of callousness or as part of some sinister plot. They had made the ultimate sacrifice, choosing to remain with their dying world while sending their only son toward hope and survival. The profound relief that washed over Clark threatened to buckle his knees.
"Why didn't you come with me?" Clark asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The question had haunted his dreams for years, why send a child alone across the space void when a family could have made the journey together?
Jor-El's holographic form flickered with something that might have been pain. "We couldn't abandon Krypton, Kal," he explained, his voice carrying the weight of impossible choices. "No matter how much your mother and I loved you, our fundamental programming wouldn't allow us to flee while our world died."
He guided Clark toward the ship's most sacred chamber, the genesis matrix where life itself could be artificially crafted. Empty now, the crystalline chambers still hummed with residual potential. With the Codex burning in Clark's cells, these machines could theoretically recreate the entire Kryptonian species from genetic templates.
But Jor-El had made a conscious decision to hide this capability from his son. The old ways had led to stagnation and destruction. Perhaps salvation lay not in recreating the past, but in allowing natural evolution to forge a new path forward. Clark represented that hope, a Kryptonian born free of predetermined destiny, shaped by human love and values rather than genetic programming.
Jor-El's attention drifted to the ship's main display, where the Plumber insignia continued its rhythmic pulsing. Something had gone wrong with his carefully laid plans. The single answer he'd hoped to give Krypton had somehow split into two divergent possibilities.
The artificial intelligence understood that Ben wasn't Kryptonian, but the watch he wore defied every principle of advanced physics. Even at Krypton's technological zenith, their greatest scientists couldn't have conceived of such a device. The power contained within that simple wrist-mounted unit operated on principles that transcended conventional understanding of universal mechanics.
This ignorance was entirely understandable. If Kryptonian science could have unlocked the Omnitrix's secrets, their energy crisis would never have existed. After all, the device's power core accumulated enough potential in three days of passive charging to obliterate entire universes.
Clark struggled to process Jor-El's explanation of Kryptonian society. The revelation that his entire species had been genetically programmed from birth, their life paths predetermined like complex biological software, filled him with both horror and pity. They hadn't been individuals in any meaningful sense, merely living equations designed to fulfill specific societal functions.
"Scientists, warriors, laborers, administrators," Jor-El continued, his voice heavy with regret. "Each Kryptonian was crafted for their role, unable to deviate from their core programming. Even rebellion like Zod's was simply another expression of his warrior nature, he could only conceive of saving Krypton through conquest and dominance."
"But it's over now," Jor-El concluded, his form brightening slightly. "Krypton's ancient mistakes died with the planet. You are the last of our people, free to choose your own destiny."
"I'm afraid I need to correct you there, Jor-El," Ben interjected, his voice cutting through the melancholy atmosphere like a blade.
Both Kryptonians turned toward him with surprise and growing concern.
"Clark isn't the last survivor of your species."
"If you're referring to your transformation capabilities," Jor-El replied carefully, "then perhaps that's technically accurate. Your device is remarkable, it makes you both singular and universal, one being containing multitudes." His scientific mind marveled at the implications. "I believe you could serve as a bridge between all sentient species, fostering understanding across the cosmos."
Ben recognized the idealism that had shaped Superman across every iteration, the influence of two fathers and two worlds that had molded Clark into a symbol of hope rather than conquest. Even Jor-El, despite carrying the burden of Krypton's survival, chose cooperation over domination.
"That's not what I meant," Ben clarified. "When this ship activated, it transmitted coordinates across the galaxy. Someone received that signal and is already responding."
The holographic scientist's expression shifted to confusion, then alarm. "Impossible. The only potential recipients would be..." His voice trailed off as the implications crystallized. "Zod and the Phantom Zone prisoners. But they were exiled beyond dimensional barriers, "
"Apparently Krypton's destruction destabilized your prison," Ben observed. "Whatever containment system you used failed when the planet collapsed into a black hole."
Ben's interest in Kryptonian wormhole technology was genuine. The ability to create portable dimensional barriers could revolutionize his Void Zero prison concept, providing containment for space-level threats that conventional force fields couldn't hold.
"The source of the signal is already en route to Earth," Ben continued, watching Clark's face pale with understanding. "You're about to have visitors."
"Me?" Clark's mind was still processing the cascade of revelations. The day had brought too many paradigm shifts for even his super-brain to easily assimilate.
"Indeed, this is problematic," Jor-El agreed with growing urgency. "Zod's methodology is... uncompromising. To recreate Krypton, he'll terraform Earth's entire biosphere, atmosphere, gravity, magnetic field, everything. Human civilization will be eradicated in the process." He paused, studying Clark's stricken expression. "We cannot allow him to repeat our ancestors' mistakes."
The AI carefully avoided mentioning the deeper reason for inevitable conflict. Zod would demand the Codex, the genetic heritage of their entire species that now resided within Clark's cellular structure. Extracting it would require either willing cooperation or Clark's death.
"Will they declare war on Earth?" Clark asked, his voice tight with dread.
The scenario he'd feared most was manifesting with cruel inevitability. His people would stand opposite humanity, forcing him to choose between the world that raised him and the species he was born from. His moral compass pointed toward protecting Earth, the Kent family had raised him with values that made any other choice impossible, but the prospect of fighting his own kind filled him with anguish.
"I strongly recommend mastering your abilities quickly," Ben advised pragmatically. "Zod's forces wear advanced combat armor that can temporarily suppress your powers. They're also genetically optimized for warfare, even with minimal solar exposure, they'll adapt faster than you expect."
Ben's assessment was accurate. In the original timeline, Clark had struggled against opponents who combined superior tactical training with technology specifically designed to counter Kryptonian advantages. Without proper preparation, history would repeat itself.
But observing Zod also presented Ben with an intriguing opportunity. His gaze drifted to the Omnitrix as a new possibility crystallized in his mind.
"Actually, Zod's goal is recreating Krypton," Ben mused aloud. "Maybe I can provide that."
Both Kryptonians stared at him with surprise bordering on shock.
Jor-El shook his head firmly. "Zod won't accept coexistence with humanity. His genetic programming instills absolute Kryptonian supremacy, other species exist only to serve or be eliminated. Additionally, he'll recreate the same flawed society that destroyed the original Krypton."
"Simple solution," Ben replied with casual confidence. "I become a member of the Elder Council."
The statement hung in the air like a challenge to physics itself.
Since Zod was genetically programmed as a warrior and general, his behavioral parameters included hardwired obedience to Krypton's governing authority. Even during his rebellion, he'd been unable to harm the Council members directly, ultimately surrendering to imprisonment rather than completing his coup.
"You're proposing to rebuild our entire civilization?" Jor-El asked, his scientific skepticism warring with desperate hope.
The logistics seemed impossible. Terraforming required suitable planetary candidates with the basic requirements for supporting life. Empty worlds existed throughout the galaxy, but finding ones compatible with Kryptonian biology was exponentially more challenging.
"I have plenty of worlds to spare," Ben said with a dismissive wave. "I'm Lord of the Nine Realms and ruler of the Fourth Galactic Empire. Finding real estate isn't exactly a challenge."
The casual mention of his space authority hit both Kryptonians like a physical force. This wasn't boastful exaggeration, Ben genuinely controlled multiple dimensional realms and commanded resources that dwarfed entire civilizations.
"Of course, standard planets won't work long-term," Ben continued, his tactical mind already solving the logistics. "Once you have hundreds of Kryptonians with full solar absorption, they'll need specially reinforced worlds to avoid accidentally destroying their own infrastructure. Maybe assign them red sun systems to keep power levels manageable?"
The practical considerations were real. A planet full of Superman-level beings would need to be extraordinarily careful about basic activities like breathing or walking. Too much enthusiasm could extinguish suns or crack continents.
"My motivation isn't military," Ben clarified. "I want the Omnitrix to fulfill its original purpose as designed by its original creator."
He raised his wrist, the device catching the chamber's crystalline light like a sacred torch. In that moment, the simple watch transcended its mechanical origins, becoming a symbol of preservation against the space dark.
"It is the spark of civilization," Ben declared with quiet reverence. "Noah's Ark for the universe's children."
Jor-El felt something stir in his quantum consciousness, an emotion subroutine that hadn't activated since Krypton's final days. For a brief instant, the holographic scientist glimpsed the same hope that had driven him to send his son across impossible distances toward an uncertain future.
After several moments of contemplative silence, Jor-El made another decision that would have horrified his predecessors.
"I don't know if your device possesses the capabilities you claim," he said slowly, "but if you can truly preserve Krypton's legacy, then perhaps you should have access to the Codex." He gestured toward Clark with something approaching regret. "The genetic heritage of our entire species resides within my son's cellular structure. Extracting it safely requires advanced biotechnology, but with it, you could recreate our civilization in its entirety."
"That won't be necessary," Ben replied, surprising both Kryptonians with his dismissive tone. "You're underestimating the Omnitrix's capabilities."
The device had performed a complete genetic scan during its brief contact with Clark, mapping not just his individual DNA but the entire Codex integrated within his cells. Even without that treasure trove, the Omnitrix's own preservation protocols exceeded anything Krypton had ever achieved.
"We'll deal with Zod first," Ben decided, his strategic mind shifting to immediate priorities. "If his forces agree to cooperation, we'll spare them. If they insist on conquest..." He shrugged with casual finality. "New Krypton doesn't need corrupt relics from the old regime."
The assessment was harsh but accurate. Zod and his followers represented Krypton's warrior elite, but their value for building a peaceful civilization was questionable. The real treasure, the genetic diversity and cultural knowledge needed for species continuation, already resided within Ben's grasp.
"They outnumber us significantly," Ben continued, his excitement building as tactical possibilities multiplied. "We should work together. Clark, let me train you."
The prospect delighted him for reasons beyond simple strategy. While he possessed multiple alien forms capable of overwhelming Zod's forces, the current Kryptonian threat level remained relatively modest. Ben had faced cosmic entities, dimensional conquerors, and reality-warping gods. A handful of solar-powered soldiers, however skilled, hardly registered as a serious challenge.
Numerically, they couldn't match Four-Arm. Mechanically, they were outclassed by his god-tier transformations like Alien X or the other enhance Alien. Even his newer additions like the Anodite could obliterate them with magical attacks, Kryptonians were notoriously vulnerable to supernatural forces.
Simple spell-casting could end the conflict in seconds.
But that approach would rob him of a valuable learning experience. This was an opportunity to refine his teaching methods and explore the upper limits of Kryptonian potential under proper guidance.
"Time for a wardrobe change," Ben announced as their planning session concluded.
Clark accepted the ceremonial garments with reverence, the flowing red cape and form-fitting blue material marked with the House of El's distinctive emblem. The stylized 'S' blazed across his chest like a beacon, its meaning transformed from simple family crest to universal symbol of hope.
Ben pulled Clark from the ship's warmth into the bitter Antarctic wind, both men unaffected by temperatures that would kill ordinary humans in minutes. Their enhanced physiology treated the subzero environment as merely brisk rather than lethal.
"You've mastered heat vision already," Ben observed, assuming the role of instructor. "Let's work on flight."
"How do I do that?" Clark asked, his analytical mind seeking concrete explanations. " Am I generating enough force with my muscles to reach escape velocity? Building up enough speed to break free from gravity's pull?"
"That would either launch you into deep space or send you crashing through the planet's core," Ben corrected with amusement. "Flight is about gravitational field manipulation, not brute force propulsion. You're already using similar principles when you control your strength to avoid damaging everything you touch."
Clark nodded with understanding. His conscious power regulation had been essential since childhood, without constant control, a simple hug would transform his adoptive mother into an explosion of organic matter. The same bio-kinetic field that protected her from his strength could be redirected for aerial movement.
Closing his eyes, Clark felt for the familiar sensation of his protective aura, then consciously shifted its orientation and intensity. The change was immediate and dramatic.
BOOM!
The sonic thunder of his first flight echoed across the frozen wasteland as Clark rocketed skyward, leaving a contrail of superheated air in his wake.