Barry sighed.
Smith put his hand over the microphone and leaned forward to speak in the doctor’s ear. There was a brief pantomime between them. The government man stepped back and Sorensen glowered through the window. “Must you always speak with so many pop culture references?”
“I must, yes, but no one’s making pop culture any more so I’m starting to feel dated. I haven’t seen a new movie in two years. And you know what else I just realized?”
The doctor stared at him.
“I’m never going to find out what the hell was going on with LOST. I mean, was it just sheer coincidence their plane crashed on the island or was it this Jacob guy pulling the strings all along? And how did most of them end up back in the 1970s with the Dharma people?”
“Mister Burke,” said Smith, stepping forward again. With the tinny effect of the intercom, his young voice sounded like a cartoon. “I know this is frustrating for you. Probably a bit scary, too. I’m sorry we had to do it this way, but if you work with us I think you’ll find we all want the same things here.”
Barry pursed his lips and nodded. “Can I be honest with you, John?”
“Of course, Mister Burke. Can I call you Barry?”
“Please do. The thing is, John, Danielle thought sex with you was mediocre at best. She told me so herself right after you showed up.”
Smith’s smile became a tight line. He put his hand over the microphone again. The few words Barry could lip-read made him smile.
“Well,” said Sorensen once Smith had stepped away. “Perhaps it would be better if we just went to the questions.”
“You mean the interrogation?”
“Are you the same Barry Burke who worked at the Pulsed Power Program in New Mexico from July 2002 to January of 2008?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“How did you get your abilities? Was it a deliberate process or an accident?”
“I’m afraid that’s need-to-know information.”
“Well,” said Sorensen, “I need to know so I can—”
“Pass. Next question.”
“Stop acting so childish, Mr. Burke.”
“Or what? You’ll drug my dinner, too? Pardon me if I don’t feel like playing your little game.” Barry looked at Smith. The younger man was rubbing his temples.
“Madelyn loves games,” said the doctor.
“What?”
He was looking past Barry at the back wall of the reactor core. “My daughter, Madelyn. She’s very competitive. Loves games. My wife, Eva, thinks it’s amazing we get along so well, even though we’re so different.”
Barry looked at the older man. Sorensen’s face had gone slack, a body on autopilot. “Where are they now? Your wife and daughter. Are they here at Krypton?”
“I brought them out here to save them. I’m always trying to protect her, even when her mother tells me not to. I keep doing things to keep her safe.”
Smith put his hand over the microphone again. The two of them talked and Sorensen’s face became solid again. He leaned into the microphone and glared at Barry. “I would appreciate it,” said the doctor, “if you left my personal life out of this.”
“Ummm, you were the one—”
“Just answer the questions,” snapped Sorensen. “How much energy can you put out?”
Barry drummed his fingers on his thigh. “In ambient heat or as directed bursts?”
“Both.”
“Ambient, a lot. Directed, a real lot.”
Sorensen made a fist around his pen.
“Hey, here’s a thought,” Barry said. “How about a demonstration?”
He flipped the switch in his mind.
Light blasted through the window and Sorensen and Smith both flinched back. The cot was incinerated and the concrete floor burned. The window flared again as Zzzap hurled a blast of energy at the massive door and a deafening hiss of static boomed from the intercom. He threw another burst and it sizzled against the steel.
Son of a bitch, the gleaming wraith said. That is a big door.
“As you yourself pointed out,” Sorensen said, “you are in a reactor core. It’s extremely heat and radiation resistant.”
Well, I had to try.
“It was foolish.”
Hey, do you have any idea how much damage those bolts can do? One of my small blasts is three or four times more raw power than a bolt of lightning.
“One-point-twenty-one gigawatts,” said Smith with a faint smile.
Points for the reference, but like I said, it’s a bit more than that.
“At breakfast you implied your focused energy was derived from your own mass,” said Sorensen. The doctor paused to tap his fingers against his thumb. He twisted his head back to look at Smith. “Remind me to check his follicles and nails when he reverts to human form. Why not shoot smaller bolts, then, and conserve your resources?”