The Last Days Of Krypton Part 16

While his thoughts wandered, the ground suddenly began to shake, an ominous tremor building from deep underground. The girders of the partially built telescopes began to sway. Construction machines strained to stabilize themselves while the dirt bucked and heaved. Workers shouted from high scaffolding.

Jor-El grabbed Lara, and they ran out into the open, away from any tall structures. As the shaking reached a crescendo, one of the anch.o.r.ed telescope stalks toppled and crushed a lifting machine as its operator leaped to safety.

When the tremors faded again, Lara brushed herself off, trying not to look shaken. "Do you know what that was? What caused it?"

His brother's earlier concerns came thundering back to him. "It's what Zor-El warned us about-science that the Council didn't take seriously."

CHAPTER 39.

Hoping to secure his power base, Commissioner Zod had already dispatched some of his pa.s.sionate followers to Orvai, Corril, Ilonia, Argo City, Borga City, and many smaller agricultural and mining villages. Speaking Zod's praises, the messengers rallied the citizens, played upon their fears, and put him forward-humbly, of course-as the only man who could truly lead Krypton, "at least during these uncertain times." Zod had personally faced the evil Brainiac. He had been there from the very beginning, while other city leaders had stayed home for weeks, discussing the tragedy from the sidelines. base, Commissioner Zod had already dispatched some of his pa.s.sionate followers to Orvai, Corril, Ilonia, Argo City, Borga City, and many smaller agricultural and mining villages. Speaking Zod's praises, the messengers rallied the citizens, played upon their fears, and put him forward-humbly, of course-as the only man who could truly lead Krypton, "at least during these uncertain times." Zod had personally faced the evil Brainiac. He had been there from the very beginning, while other city leaders had stayed home for weeks, discussing the tragedy from the sidelines.

Meanwhile, arrogant Shor-Em had unilaterally issued a call for volunteer candidates to become members of a reestablished Council that he proposed in Borga City. Though the pompous n.o.bleman commended Zod's continuing "temporary" efforts at the crater camp, he called the prospect of rebuilding Kandor absurd. Although the Commissioner privately agreed, he nevertheless encouraged his fanatically devoted workers to take offense at the insensitive p.r.o.nouncement. By virtue of their indignation, they recruited even more followers.

Living with the painful reality of the gaping wound every day, his dedicated followers at the temporary camp couldn't help but recognize how slow and ineffectual the other city leaders had been. Zod was clearly the only viable alternative. Everyone had to see that.

Unfortunately, the majority of Kryptonians hadn't personally lived through the tragedy or witnessed the magnitude of the damage firsthand, and they were swayed by naive and impractical suggestions, such as Shor-Em's. Zod knew he had to set them straight, and soon, before these complainers stumbled upon some way to oppose him.

It was time he decided, to see for himself what Aethyr had found in the ruins of Xan City. There he would find the tools he needed to consolidate Krypton and trump the blowhard claims of any rival leaders.

Promising to return in only a day or two, Zod departed from the burgeoning refugee camp with Aethyr and Nam-Ek. As their levitating raft raced away to the south, Zod looked back at the temporary settlement, shaking his head in disappointment. "If I am to lead Krypton, my center of power must be more than a group of tents, dirt paths, and primitive sanitation facilities. No wonder people listen to Shor-Em when he offers Borga City as a viable alternative."

Aethyr lounged back on a cushion at the side of the open-air vessel, smiling at him. "One problem at a time."

After a journey of many hours, they arrived at the ruins of Jax-Ur's ancient capital. Using this very place as his center of power, the warlord had conquered a world, destroyed an inhabited moon, and prepared to reach out across the nearby inhabited star systems. Only treachery had toppled him.

Zod reveled in the sensation of being surrounded by looming history. In the middle of Execution Square, he approached the weathered statue of the once-great warlord surrounded by the nearly unrecognizable figures of kneeling and defeated subjects. Propping his hands on his hips, he looked upward with a challenging smirk. "All your works have fallen into dust, Jax-Ur! Mine will be greater."

Aethyr said, "Then take Jax-Ur's mantle for your own, Zod. Why not follow in his footsteps? Be the savior of Krypton."

He looked at her strangely. "Jax-Ur is one of the most reviled men in our history."

She pointed out the obvious. "Only because history was written by those who reviled him."

"Then I had better write my own history to make sure that later generations will remember these events properly."

She was delighted with this solution. "Yes, you'll have to do that-and soon. Now, let me show you the weapons."

Not overly interested in history or technology, Nam-Ek prowled among the flagstones and the fallen columns. He enjoyed stomping on the topaz beetles, crunching their sh.e.l.ls under his big feet, and stepping back to watch as other ravenous insects scuttled forward to devour the oozing carca.s.ses. These were not his beloved animals. They were bugs, vermin vermin-like anyone who opposed his master. Nam-Ek stomped some more.

With obvious antic.i.p.ation, Aethyr played the notes of "Jax-Ur's March" on the crude and ancient musical instruments scattered around the square: a pitted tubular bell that still rang out low and clear, a hollow stone box that resonated when struck, a sheet-alloy gong that boomed like metal thunder. When she had completed the ponderous sequence of loud notes, the round covers of the underground silos ground slowly open to reveal the golden doomsday weapons standing upright in their cradles.

With shining eyes, Zod gazed at Aethyr, thinking that she looked more beautiful than ever, now that she had revealed her secret. He leaned over the lip of the nearest pit to stare down at the slender missile, with its smooth, bulbous tip that contained such untold destructive energy. He shook his head, nearly hypnotized by the elegant symmetry. Three of these warheads had been sufficient to blast Koron to rubble. Only three! "What could a warlord possibly do with fifteen fifteen such weapons?" such weapons?"

Aethyr lifted her softly pointed chin. "A man with such power could strike fear into anyone who might challenge him. Simply by possessing the nova javelins, a leader could ensure peace, prosperity-and total, absolute obedience."

Possibilities swirled in the Commissioner's mind. "Intriguing."

The pair descended into the shadowy control-room bunkers she had found underneath the ruins. Zod inhaled the smells of dust, stale air, cold metal, and old grease. The ancient equipment looked intact and undamaged, except for the slow deterioration of time. Only a few of the old illumination crystals still functioned in the large and silent banks of machinery.

"The systems are strange, the notions old-fashioned," Aethyr said, "but I don't believe it would take much to fine-tune them."

Later, when they emerged from the control bunkers, Zod admired the lost grandeur all around him. Studying the still-intact buildings and towers, he extended his hands as if he could feel ancient power rising from the ground.

"I like this place. It has a very solid feel, a sense of majesty. Think of how long it has endured." He smiled at Aethyr. "Yes, once all my followers are in place, this will be a clean, fresh start for a new world. This This will be Krypton's new capital." will be Krypton's new capital."

CHAPTER 40.

After the setback from the severe quake, Jor-El revised his plans for the telescope array, reinforced the structures, and set the teams to work again. In only a week, four more giant observation dishes unfurled, like the petals of enormous wire-frame flowers. With the structures geometrically arranged along two intersecting baselines, each a kilometer long, the array looked like a technological garden. He wished his father could see this. Yar-El would have been awed by the site. severe quake, Jor-El revised his plans for the telescope array, reinforced the structures, and set the teams to work again. In only a week, four more giant observation dishes unfurled, like the petals of enormous wire-frame flowers. With the structures geometrically arranged along two intersecting baselines, each a kilometer long, the array looked like a technological garden. He wished his father could see this. Yar-El would have been awed by the site.

The sensitive telescopes and receiver dishes would warn of any impending invasion, and they would also collect copious pure scientific data. The heavens were rife with mysteries and possibilities, but the Council had not wanted Jor-El even to look for them. Now, under the pretext of defending the planet, Zod had given him all the permission he needed.

Jor-El also set his mind to pondering designs for new defenses, just as Zod had asked him to do. However, even though he convinced himself the weapons would be used only against Krypton's outside enemies, his mind often went blank now that he was trying trying to create destructive devices. to create destructive devices.

In the midst of Jor-El's efforts to complete the telescope array, his mother tracked him down, first by sending a message to the estate, then to the temporary camp at the crater, and finally to the telescope construction site. He watched her image on the communication plate, read her distraught expression, and suddenly knew that this message was what he had been dreading for many years.

"Your father is dying. This could be your last chance to say good-bye." Charys hesitated. The image flickered, and he realized that she had switched off the recording to gather her courage so that she wouldn't cry, so that her voice wouldn't crack. "I've already sent a message to Zor-El, but I doubt he'll make it from Argo City in time. Please hurry. I need at least one of you here."

Lara would not let him go alone. An angry breeze picked up, growing moist as gray clouds formed overhead, and Jor-El didn't even notice when the drizzle began. They borrowed a fast platform flyer from one of the construction crews, activated the pa.s.senger cover, and left the noisy and frenetic work site.

It was raining hard by the time they landed the hovering raft among the trees that enfolded the isolated dacha. Jor-El's knees shook as he stepped down from the vehicle. Cold droplets splattered his face and plastered down his white hair, but he hardly noticed the discomfort.

As they ran to the porch, Jor-El saw that Charys had allowed her garden to fall into weeds. After the blooms had been plucked for Jor-El and Lara's wedding more than a month before, the untended flowers had reblossomed in a riot of colorful petals. The fact that his mother had not cared for her prized plants told him more than any verbal explanations.

She opened the door, looking wan and lonely, her eyes hollow. "Come inside. I'm glad to have you here with me."

His face gray and pale, a sheen of sweat sparkling on his forehead, Yar-El lay on his bed, covered by a light blanket. His open eyes barely blinked as he stared off into his own universe. His breathing was shallow.

"He knows what happened to Kandor," Charys said. "It's not always obvious when he's aware of his surroundings, so I'm not sure how he learned the news, but he feels the loss of the city. That's what did this to him." Unnecessarily, she straightened the blankets, then stroked Yar-El's hair, keeping her hands busy. The older woman struggled to maintain her dignity. "Another day, Yar-El. Just hold on another day. Zor-El will be here as soon as he can."

They watched over the catatonic man in a long vigil, unable to find words. Surprisingly, old Yar-El blinked. His watery eyes flicked from side to side, then focused. He lifted a hand, weakly extending a finger.

Jor-El leaned closer. "Father, can you hear me?"

Yar-El pointed to the side of the bed, growing agitated. He clenched his fingers, then pointed again, attempting to grasp something. Lara saw that he was trying to reach the touch-sensitive notepad at the side of the bed. "He wants to write something. Do you have a stylus?"

Charys rushed to get a writing implement, but Yar-El took the tablet and made a sweeping stroke with his finger, drawing a curve that bent and rebent back upon itself. The old man clearly and deliberately formed the S-shaped symbol of their family crest, the serpent of deceit trapped within an impenetrable diamond. He let the pad fall onto the blankets that covered his lap.

With his other hand, he reached out to clasp Jor-El's fingers and said a slow, breathy word. "Remember." The effort took the last sparks of his existence. Yar-El sighed, slumped back into his pillows, and closed his eyes forever.

Zor-El arrived four hours too late in the swift silver flyer that had previously taken him to the southern continent. He and Alura, windblown and exhausted, ran from the clearing where they had landed, but to no avail. As soon as they stepped through the door of the dacha, Zor-El immediately sensed the pall of sadness. He looked at his brother, and Jor-El shook his head.

Yar-El lay at peace on his bed, and his younger son approached tentatively. "I suppose I mourned him a long time ago," he said in a rough voice. "With a mind like his, our father was effectively dead when the Forgetting Disease stole his thoughts."

The four of them stood together in shared grief while Charys collapsed in a chair, finally letting them see the toll taken by so many years of tending her unresponsive husband. "That's what I thought, but I was deluding myself. Now that he's gone, all the pain is back, as fresh and sharp as it ever was." She drew in a long, shuddering breath. "Now it's as if he died twice, and I've had to endure the same loss both times."

"He was lucid right at the end. He said something." Jor-El looked at his brother. "Remember." "Remember."

Zor-El's dark eyes flashed, bright with a sheen of withheld tears. "'Remember'? What does that mean?"

"I think he wanted us to do what he could not." Gazing down at the old man, Jor-El realized how little he knew his own father.

Finding a small reservoir of strength, Charys announced, "We will hold the funeral at the estate, his original home. That's where he belongs."

After Yar-El's body was prepared, they returned to the manor house. Memories pressed down upon Jor-El, clear recollections of when his father had been brilliant, how Yar-El had spoken of his hopes for his two sons, how he had trained them both to investigate scientific possibilities and make intuitive leaps that few Kryptonians even attempted.

When Rao was high in the sky, the two brothers carried their father's bier across the estate grounds. Charys led the way in a slow procession with Lara and Alura on either side of their husbands. Jor-El could not help thinking that Yar-El deserved greater fanfare than this, a huge crowd, a funeral parade that wound through the streets of Kandor.

The little group gathered at the small private solar observatory Jor-El had built on a stepped platform behind the estate's main building, where it was unshadowed by trees or lichen towers. Although this was much smaller than the similar facility that had projected a huge orb of Rao atop the Council temple, Jor-El had spent much time here deciphering the star's turbulent flaws. The observatory's mirrors and focusing lenses had been swung aside to leave the projection zone empty. The brothers placed Yar-El's body at the center of the focal s.p.a.ce.

Zor-El delivered a brief eulogy, but his gruff voice cracked, and his words ended quickly. Jor-El stood beside him, summoning his own thoughts, wrestling down the waves of grief. "Krypton should revere Yar-El for the great things he accomplished and forget his strange fall from grace." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Even though we find that our heroes have feet of clay, we must never forget that they were heroes heroes in the first place." in the first place."

He and Zor-El each took one of the alignment rods and swung the curved focusing mirrors into place. As the observatory gathered the light of Rao, they slipped the magnifying lenses into position, removed the filter covers, and stepped back.

A fuzzy image of the red sun formed in the focal zone where Yar-El's body rested; then the image suddenly sharpened into an intense representation of the blazing star. The corona formed, followed by the churning layers of dark sunspots and thundering plasma. The heat condensed in a blinding flash. Yar-El's body vanished into white smoke, entirely disintegrated, becoming one with Rao.

Jor-El's face was dark and troubled. "Krypton needs us, Zor-El. It's what Father would want. We can't let him down. We can't let Krypton down. You and I know what's happening in our planet's core. The quakes, the tidal waves-it'll only get worse. Now that the Council is gone, you and I have to do something to save the world. Do we have proof to show Commissioner Zod?"

Zor-El's expression hardened. "I recently received word from my survey team. One member was killed in a fresh round of eruptions, but the others are returning with a complete set of data from the network of sensors they deployed." He pressed his lips together. "Soon we will know for certain."

CHAPTER 41.

By the time Zod returned from Xan City, satisfied and enthusiastic with his new plans, many of Krypton's ambitious younger n.o.bles had arrived at the camp. They came to deliver extravagant loads of supplies or to volunteer for the work of constructing a new city or memorial. Back in their decadent, sprawling households, these young men had nothing significant to do. from Xan City, satisfied and enthusiastic with his new plans, many of Krypton's ambitious younger n.o.bles had arrived at the camp. They came to deliver extravagant loads of supplies or to volunteer for the work of constructing a new city or memorial. Back in their decadent, sprawling households, these young men had nothing significant to do.

Some of them were bleeding hearts who wrung their hands in misery at the loss of the Council and dreamed only of restoring Krypton to what it had once been. Zod had no interest in people like that. Aethyr, fortunately, pointed out others who were much more likely to serve him.

"For someone who doesn't bother with internal politics and household rivalries," Zod observed with an amused smile, "you certainly know a lot about the n.o.ble family members."

"I know a great deal about anyone who thinks along similar lines as I do. Koll-Em even tried to overthrow his brother not long ago-a botched attempt, but it shows how he thinks. He was banished from Borga City, and now he's here. Many more of the younger sons and daughters played their roles as dutiful children, but it was all an act. You'd be astonished at the depths of hatred some of them have toward their elder, privileged siblings. And we can turn that to our advantage. We have to. You and I won't succeed without their strength and support."

Zod sent out a discreet invitation to seventeen of the most ambitious younger sons, as chosen by Aethyr. Putting the pieces in place. He met his special guests at the broken rim of the crater at dawn. The edge dropped off into a debris slope before plunging steeply into emptiness and the smoky unseen bottom of the pit. Nam-Ek stood behind the group, an intimidating presence.

Seventeen candidates: some eager, others skeptical, all curious. Zod observed them. Sharp-featured Koll-Em. No-Ton, a n.o.ble son who had studied science and engineering (not remotely comparable to Jor-El, but useful nonetheless). Vor-On, the eager sycophant who had tried to curry the Commissioner's favor at the chariot races. Mon-Ra, Da-Es, Ran-Ar, and others whose names he did not know yet. And of course, Aethyr.

These were talented men willing to break rules, those who had either bypa.s.sed family expectations and made something of themselves or chafed at restrictions and had every reason to despise the placid order of old Krypton. They had spent their lives being told what they couldn't do.

Many of them were barely out of their teens, with fire in their blood. What they lacked in experience and reasonable caution they made up for with radical enthusiasm. They were young enough to be naive, convinced of their own righteousness, never imagining that their closely held beliefs might be wrong. They were perfect for what Zod had in mind.

At a glance, he could see that some were doubtful that Commissioner Zod would be any different from previous government officials-skeptical, just as Aethyr had originally been. He simply smiled at them. "The old Council is gone, and so is our old way of life. Not one of you will mourn that. Do not pretend otherwise." He could tell by their shocked expressions that he had grabbed their attention. "In order to achieve my goals, I need a cadre of close advisers to stand with me as I do what must be done, for Krypton's sake. Will you listen to what I have to say?"

The younger n.o.bles glanced at one another, some muttering questions while others remained silent. Koll-Em said brashly, "It does no harm for us to hear you out."

"No one's ever taken us seriously before," Mon-Ra added. He had a well-muscled body, created by physical sculpting rather than hard labor.

"Come, let us descend a ways into the crater." Zod gestured to the sharp drop-off and the uneven switchbacked path Aethyr had marked out.

She stepped up to the lip. "The Commissioner needs you to touch what actually happened here. Feel it viscerally, grasp the power of one evil alien who uprooted a city and left a hole halfway through the crust. Make yourselves different from those who issue p.r.o.nouncements while they sit in comfort halfway across the continent."

"Like my brother." Koll-Em's voice dripped with loathing.

"Down in the crater? crater?" Vor-On said, alarmed. Only a moment ago, he had been bursting with excitement at the thought of being part of the Commissioner's inner circle.

"I have no use for timid advisers, Vor-On. You are welcome to stay in the camp with the other manual laborers."

The young man swallowed hard. "No, no. I'll come...if the rest of you do." He looked around. His square-cut hair no longer looked terribly stylish.

Zod took the first step onto the crumbling slope. Pebbles skittered downward, but he found solid footing. "Aethyr explored our route last night. It may be difficult going, but if a simple hike is beyond your abilities, you are not the people I am looking for."

None of the seventeen turned down the offer.

Aethyr led the group, picking her way from boulder to boulder, sliding on loose dirt, holding on to outcroppings. Some of the ground had been fused into gla.s.sy patches by Brainiac's powerful cutting beams. They scrambled deeper and deeper until they were far from the lip, away from the edge and any possible spies. Nam-Ek's burly silhouette waited for them on top.

Down here, the air smelled of sulfur and steam, foul water and bitter dust. Zod's hands were dirty and sore from gripping sharp-edged stones as he worked his way down. One tall, loose-limbed man, Da-Es, slipped and stumbled, dropping almost two meters before Aethyr snagged his tunic and stopped his fall. Da-Es regained his composure and brushed himself off. He looked with scorn at his torn clothing, a smear of blood, the sc.r.a.pes and bruises.

"And? Do you want to return, climb up to the top?" Zod prodded him.

"My ego is more bruised than my body is," Da-Es said. "I want to hear why you've gone to such great lengths so no one will overhear us."

After a quarter of an hour of climbing, they reached a shelf of rock. Zod and Aethyr waited as all seventeen gathered on the stable ledge or balanced on rocky protrusions slightly above.

"As you can guess," Zod began, "this is not the sort of meeting where we serve refreshments or adhere to rules of order. This is a war council." The young men looked surprised; some nodded grimly. "Krypton is at war, not just against alien invaders like Brainiac, but also against those of our own people who would keep our great civilization stagnant, as in the old days."

Most of the seventeen muttered in agreement, Koll-Em the loudest.