Author's forward: This story is a departure for me, an experiment, as it were. I'm not into fusions, ala those written by Classic Cowboy (check out his stuff anyway). Most of the time they just don't do anything for me. Sometimes, though, one will click. Classic's Kim Possible/Captain America fusion is a case in point (and hopefully he'll update it someday, hint, hint). The idea for this story popped into my head a few days ago, and wouldn't go away. So I decided to see if I could write a fusion and make it work. Let me know what you think.

Krypton

Jor-el took a meandering route from the tram station toward his home. His latest meeting with the Science Council, the (theoretically) meritocracy that ruled the planet Krypton, hadn't gone well.

"Abject disaster is more like it," Jor-el muttered under his breath. He was a widely known figure in the scientific community, the latest in a long line of brilliant minds to come from the House of El. Alas, fame was not synonymous with respect. Jor-el was honest enough with himself to admit that his ideas and theories were often...controversial. But challenging the status quo was what science was about, after all. If you simply accepted current ideas as the last word on things, progress came to a grinding halt.

Jor-el snorted bitterly. He would have been okay with the label 'controversial'. More often than not, though, he was referred to in the media as 'being on the fringes of scientific thought'. Some even went so far as to call him a crackpot.

So perhaps it wasn't all that surprising that his announcement that Krypton was doomed had fallen on skeptical ears. Jor-el actually smiled briefly at that. He hadn't believed his own idea at first. It was too far fetched even for him to accept. So he'd done more research, gathered more data, conducted a multitude of experiments. Everything pointed to a planet-wide cataclysm.

He still hadn't been able to believe it.

So he'd shown the data to his wife, Lara, and asked her if she thought his conclusions were valid.

Jor-el's thoughts strayed momentarily. Lara. She of the honey blonde hair and green eyes, who in spite of her incredible intellect had accepted his proposal of marriage and borne his child. She was a biochemist, not a geologist. Neither was Jor-'el, for that matter. But like himself Lara had a keen, analytical mind and a bloodhound's nose for logic errors.

She'd read his report. Three times. She'd questioned him sharply on his methods and his controls. And finally, Lara had concluded that there was a high probability that he was correct.

Krypton was home to an ancient and advanced civilization, one that had explored its home star system thoroughly, and many of the surrounding ones as well. The principles of Faster-than-Light travel were well known, but Kryptonian's were an insular people, and had never traveled beyond the bounds of their own planet. If the Kryptonian race was to survive, that would have to change.

Still not convinced he was correct, Jor-el had begun construction of a prototype hyper-capable ship, one that could show the world that escape from the impending disaster was possible. Lara had begun a survey of nearby stars, looking for a world that could support Kryptonian life.

They thought they had years.

Jor-el finished his prototype and began testing it, sending it on short hops, first within the Krypton system, later to their star's closest neighbors. Along the way, he and Lara decided to start a family.

Jor-el's thoughts came back to the present. Things were accelerating. As his data became more voluminous, the potential for error dropped. His latest calculations suggested that Krypton had less than a year left. If there was to be an evacuation, it had to start now.

He'd gone public.

True, he was widely regarded as a crackpot, but the sheer weight of data he'd provided, along with the fact that he'd waited two years to go public, lent weight to his claims.

Panic had ensued. In an effort to allay the public's fears and demands, Jor-el had been allowed to present his findings to the Science Council. They were understandably skeptical, but again, the sheer volume of data Jor-el presented kept them from dismissing him outright. He was given extra resources, and told to gather more data. He had. He gave regular reports to the Council, who regularly deferred judgment.

Less than an hour ago, he'd presented his final report. Krypton would explode. They had a year at most, maybe as little as six months. The evidence for this was, in Jor-el's mind, overwhelming.

The Council had rejected his conclusions. There was no danger at all, they said. They'd forbidden him to so much as mention his insane notion ever again, on penalty of banishment to the Phantom Zone.

'Well, if I can't get them to save themselves, at least I can save Lara and...' Jor-el's thought was cut off by a shuddering of the ground beneath his feet. It didn't last long, but it was soon followed by another. His eyes flicked up. Far away, on the horizon, was the crest of Mount Kaladar, a ridge shaped volcano that Jor-el had studied thoroughly as a part of his research. It had become active recently, venting steam and ash, but now...

...now it was vomiting white-hot lava. From one of the younger vents, Jor-'el noted absently. Even as he watched as second vent, many radd'as away from the first, began to spew molten rock. Jor-el stopped strolling, and ran the rest of the way home.

"Lara! Lara!" Jor-el shouted as he hurried toward his home's laboratories.

"Jor-el!" Lara exclaimed as he entered them, fear and relief plain in her voice. "Kaladar is erupting!"

"I saw that," Jor-el said grimly. "What other data..?"

Lara gestured to the computer system she and Jor-el had set up to monitor world-wide seismic data and news reports. Volcanoes all over Krypton were starting to erupt. Massive groundquakes were shaking the planet from pole to pole. Jor-el went to the display that showed the estimated time remaining and hit the refresh button.

He'd thought they had months.

They didn't even have days.

They had hours.

Frantic preparation kept terror from overwhelming him. Jor-el labored like a madman to ready the craft.

"Lara, bring the baby. The two of you..."

Lara cut him off with a gesture.

"I'm not going, husband," she said calmly.

"Lara!" Jor-el protested.

Lara smiled, approaching him and catching hold of his garments. "My place is with you, my love," she said softly. "Besides, you know as well as I do that the ship couldn't carry both of us to a suitable world."

Jor-el wilted.

"I want you to live," he protested, his voice quavering with a mix of sorrow and fear.

"I know you do," Lara answered. "But that isn't going to happen." It was a cold, hard, cruel fact.

"Bring the baby," Jor-el repeated.

Lara placed the baby in the life support compartment, then turned toward her husband.

"I need to program the guidance system," Lara said. "What world are we sending her to?"

Jor-el looked down at the squirming infant Lara had just let go of. His daughter. She was pink and chubby, like any healthy infant. A thin cap of hair, red like his own, covered her head. She had been sleeping, but awakened briefly and looked up at him, her green eyes, so like her mother's, broadcasting her displeasure at being moved.

"Earth," Jor-el answered.

"Earth?" Lara repeated, sounding upset.

"Your own studies show that their biosphere will sustain her," Jor-'el said simply.

"But they're so primitive," Lara protested. "Priconyala is closer."

"She will look like one of them," Jor-el countered. "The Priconyalan's are..."

Lara knew what Jor-el was getting at. The Pricon's were bizarre looking creatures, trilaterally symmetrical. For all that they had a highly advanced civilization, her daughter would stick out like a sore thumb amongst such creatures.

"She won't be one of them," Lara countered anyway, though there wasn't much heat in her voice.

"Her dense molecular structure will make her strong," Jor-el conceded. "She'll be fast, and virtually invulnerable."

Lara's expression showed that she remained unconvinced. "She'll be odd, different."

"Earth is the only other suitable planet the prototype can reach, Lara," Jor-el countered. He saw his wife's face tense to continue the discussion, so he played his trump card.

"On Earth, at least, she can find a mate."

It was Lara's turn to wilt. Her daughter might grow up a stranger on a strange world, but she wouldn't be an outcast, alone. She might find someone to love and cherish her as Lara loved and cherished, and was loved and cherished by, her husband.

"Very well," Lara assented.

Jor-el watched the ship ascend into the night sky. Even at supralight speeds it would take years for it to reach Earth. A temporal inhibiter in the life support module would make those years seem like only hours to its precious cargo, though. The ground shook again. Jor-el looked over his shoulder. Behind him, Mount Kaladar was tearing itself apart. The entire summit was ablaze now, and constant groundquakes shook the area.

Jor-'el looked up again, and gave his child a final blessing.

"To the people of Earth I bequeath you, Kara Jor-el. May Rao watch over and protect you always." Another quake shook the house, but it didn't feel the same as previous ones. Jor-el looked around and saw that his house, along with most of the surrounding area, was sliding toward a huge fissure that was opening nearby.

He turned and took Lara's hand. She smiled at him. They had time for one last kiss, before the end.

Outside Middleton, Colorado

James Possible lay on a blanket, staring up at the night sky. Beside him, his wife Patricia was nestled in his arms, playing idly with his chest hair, deep in thought. They were going through a rough time in their relationship. They had been married seven years, and James (Jim to his friends) loved Patty more than anything. The fact that she'd been four times pregnant and four times failed to bring a child to term meant nothing to him. But it meant something to her. After her latest miscarriage, Patty had refused to accept that it had happened. She pretended to still be pregnant. At first James had played along, hoping Patty would come to her senses. But she hadn't. So, finally, when Patty's 'pregnancy' entered it's eighth month, James laid down the law. The confrontation had been ugly, and in the end Patty had collapsed in grief, but she'd finally agreed to admit to the world that she wasn't pregnant any more.

Considering that to be a major accomplishment, James hadn't insisted that Patty 'tell' right away. Instead, he'd suggested a camping trip, where the two of them could heal the hurts from their argument. They'd hiked, gone skinny dipping, and fished. They'd eaten a lunch and dinner cooked over an open camp fire. They had just finished making love, and were basking in the afterglow, looking up at the stars.

A meteor blazed across the sky. James nudged Patricia. "Shooting star, honey. Make a wish."

Patricia turned in time to see the last of it, then looked at James and smiled sadly. "Well," she said, "I already got my first wish, for a wonderful husband, so..."

James smiled too, leaning in to rub noses with Patty before exchanging a gentle kiss. He knew she had wished, again, for a child.

"Oh! James! Look at that one!" Patty exclaimed, pointing at an other meteor. An other followed, then several more. James' curiosity was piqued. In addition to being a rocket scientist (or aerospace engineer, whichever you prefer) he was an amateur astronomer.

"That's odd," he said, thinking aloud. "There are no meteor showers on the calendar." That was true. Unlike known and predictable showers, such as the Leonids or the Perseids, this one was completely unexpected, and incredibly dense. The numbers grew quickly to dozens, then scores.

"It's so beautiful," Patricia said softly.

James was about to agree when a big one appeared, much brighter than the others. It came on and on, getting brighter and brighter until the whole area seemed to light up. It passed overhead with a sky tearing roar. James turned to see a column of water rising from the lake.

"That one hit!" he shouted redundantly. Moments later another meteor impacted in the woods nearby, knocking down several trees.

"James!" Patty screamed, pointing at the sky. A huge meteor, far larger than any of the others, was heading straight at them. But after observing it for just a few moments, James knew he was wrong.

"That's no meteor! James exclaimed. It couldn't be. For one things, its glow was fading, not brightening. For another it was slowing down, noticeably, much more so than mere atmospheric drag could account for. Soon an arrowhead shape became apparent. Then the thing was hovering just above the ground, not a hundred feet away. Three struts unfolded from the underside, and it settled, silently.

What apprehension James felt was drowned out by curiosity. Rising, he wrapped a blanket around his waist and headed for the thing.

"James!" Patricia called after him. Knowing he wasn't listening to her, Patricia followed him, pausing only to wrap herself in a blanket as well.

James halted twenty or so feet away for the object. His ears picked up hisses, pops, and pings as the thing cooled. Patricia came up beside him.

"What is it, James?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"It's a ship," James answered, far more calmly than he felt.

"Is it ours?" Patricia asked.

James shook his head. "Patty, I'm familiar with the most modern spacecraft technology on Earth. Nobody, anywhere, has a ship like this, not even on their drawing boards."

"Then where did it come from?"

James just turned his eyes toward the heavens. Out there, the gesture said.

There was a sound. A probe, or something, had emerged from the top of the ship and began to sweep the area.

James and Patricia drew back slightly as the thing turned to point at them.

"I think we'd bet..." James' voice was cut off as a soft blue light enveloped them.

Patricia found she could neither move nor speak. Oddly, though, she wasn't afraid. The blue light was...comforting, somehow, like a reassuring touch from her mother.

The blue light faded, and an image appeared, of a man in strange clothes. The man began to speak, but Patricia couldn't understand him. Symbols appeared in the air around him, and he pointed to them in turn, continuing to speak.

"Mathematical equations," Patricia heard her husband breathe. "He's trying to communicate!"

"Can you underst..."

James cut Patricia's question off with a gesture. "Not yet, but I will," he declared, never taking his eyes off the display. A second figure appeared, a woman, carrying a squirming bundle. She held it out, and James and Patricia saw that it was a baby. The woman looked briefly at the man, then stepped forward and held the baby out to Patricia. Patricia reached out instinctively, but her hands passed though the image, and it winked out.

There was a louder noise, a whirring sound. A large panel was opening at the front of the ship. A frightened wail emerged from the opening, and before James could utter a word, either of warning or protest, Patricia was there, lifting out a squalling, squirming form.

"Patricia, don't," emerged from James' mouth far too late. His wife cuddled the creature to her breast. The cries stilled as the thing nuzzled at her, searching for a nipple.

Patricia opened the cloths the thing was wrapped in. "It's a girl," she said softly. Then, turning so James could see it better, "Isn't she adorable?"

James stared at his wife. He wasn't dumb, and there was a definite hint in her voice.

"Patricia O'Rourke Possible, are thinking what I think you're thinking?" he demanded sternly.

"People already thought I was over eight months pregnant," she said suggestively. "We can just say the meteors frightened me into labor, and you delivered her."

It was a simple, effective, entirely reasonable plan, James had to admit. Almost against his will he stepped forward, unable to give voice to his completely reasonable counter-arguments. Reaching out, he gently stroked the infant's fuzzy scalp. She turned at his touch and cooed at him, and his heart melted.

"What should we call her?' James asked in token of his surrender.

"Let's name her after my Nana," Patricia proposed.

The baby had taken hold of one of his fingers. James slipped his free hand around his wife's shoulders. Gazing down at their new daughter he said, "Welcome to our family, Kimberly Anne Possible."