"Let him go," the suited politician said grimly. "That thing in low Earth orbit is the real Big Trouble. Even if we dissect him now, we probably won't be able to learn how to deal with his kind from him. This isn't a good time to offend him."
"No," another man said. "He's injured. As long as we find out what hurt him, we can find a way to deal with these aliens."
"Who are you going to send? The only expert who might be able to get results is in his hands."
"No matter what, I disagree. We can't just let such a valuable specimen go. Once his injuries recover, we'll never get another chance like this."
"A call from Washington," another figure said as he knocked on the office door. "The President's order: let Clark Kent leave."
The men exchanged glances. Though some of them were still unwilling, the order was ultimately passed on to the military base.
As soon as the messenger left, one of the politicians slammed his pen onto the desk. "It's all for votes. As long as that spaceship doesn't destroy Earth during his term, he can accept anything!"
"Enough. You should have expected this. Besides, finding out how he was injured doesn't necessarily require dissecting him. Someone once saw him fly out of Luthor Tower. This may have something to do with Lex Luthor."
"You mean Luthor injured him? How did he manage that?"
"You and I both know he isn't a businessman. He's a super genius. Maybe he invented some powerful weapon capable of hurting aliens."
"If that's true, that weapon has to be in our hands. If we're the only ones who can repel the spaceship in low Earth orbit..."
The two men looked at each other, understanding without words.
Aliens