The Last Days of Krypton

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Zod was already on his feet and rushing to the private Council chambers. He did not dare give them the chance to ruin this if they were allowed to make their own decisions.

  Most of the audience had streamed out of the great temple, buzzing with conversation. They watched as Jor-El and Donodon went to the alien’s compact starship, already talking so intently with each other they barely noticed the awed crowd that followed them.

  The eleven members of the Council were left alone, having allowed control of the situation to slip through their fingers. Retreating, Jul-Us quickly called them all to meet him in his spacious private chambers—as the Commissioner had known the old man would.

  He gave them enough time to convene there. Then he strode down the hall to the tall closed doors covered with patterned yellow metal. As boldly as Jor-El had strode into the speaking hall, Zod flung open the doors and stood framed in the entry to the crowded room.

  The eleven members turned toward him in a panic, as if he were brandishing a weapon. Zod just smiled. “You have much to fear,” he said.

  He knew that without his help they would continue their “discussions”—bickering, sharing paranoias, and wallowing in helpless despair. Zod expected nothing better from the eleven incompetents.

  “Commissioner, this is a private session,” Kor-Te said, swallowing hard to cover his own anxiety.

  “Relating to a very public problem.” Without being invited, he stepped into the chamber and closed the doors behind him. “Naturally, you are worried about what Jor-El and that alien might do together.”

  “We should have stopped them from leaving. We should have commanded Jor-El to stay!” said Jun-Do, a mousy Council member who seemed very brave now that he was safe in this closed room.

  “It is too late for that,” Zod said. You should have thought to issue some sort of command during the original meeting, he added silently, but you were all too afraid. He understood that their greatest fear was the fear of change itself. He had been disgusted with the ineffectual leaders before, and now their actions (inactions!) only reinforced his opinion. How his father would have been sick with disappointment. “But I can offer you an alternative.”

  He could almost hear their indrawn breath. Jul-Us looked at him with an expression full of appreciation. “What is it, Commissioner?”

  “Jor-El and this alien will be sharing information, discussing technologies. Donodon’s ship itself is a scientific marvel. Since I am head of the Commission for Technology Acceptance, I should be there. I will go to Jor-El’s estate and observe what they are doing. Let me take care of it.” He applied one of his practiced smiles. “With your permission?”

  Jul-Us did not need to consult his fellow members. “Please do so.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Though uneventful, the trip from Kandor aboard Donodon’s vessel was intense, exciting, and brief enough that Jor-El didn’t mind being cramped within a tiny vessel designed for a small-statured passenger. What thrilled him most was the knowledge that this was a real spaceship that had actually gone from star system to star system.

  The small blue alien was truly a kindred spirit. Eager for information and insights, Jor-El had discussed Krypton’s isolationism, how he was forbidden from investigating space travel or trying to contact other civilizations, although he still made extensive studies of the stars with his own telescopes.

  Studying the ship’s controls, Jor-El asked, “How do you navigate? How do you deal with emergencies?”

  “I have a tool for every emergency.” Donodon proudly patted one of his lumpy pockets. “This ship is made of discrete components but operates as an organic whole—so sophisticated that even I can fly it without trouble.”

  “I want to know more. I want to know everything about the whole universe out there.”

  Donodon made a burbling sound of amusement. “You could spend your life finding the answers, and there would still be many, many more questions.” His skin was cool and moist, and he exuded a natural scent somewhat reminiscent of tart fruit.

  Jor-El beamed. “Exactly as I prefer it.”

  “I have been to many marvelous planets and wonderful civilizations. My ship’s log has a record of all of my journeys.”

  “I’d like to see them.”

  “That would take years.” The alien’s overlarge eyes blinked.

  “What could be a better use of my time?”

  Donodon displayed items from his ship’s database, quickly skimming through a few of the marvelous planets. “Let me show you the fabulous landscapes of Oa, Rann, and Thanagar.” He called up another sequence of images. “And the fungus caverns of Trekon, the flying islands of Uffar, the lavender seas of Gghwwyk. It is difficult for me to choose a favorite.”

  While sharing ideas with Donodon, telling him of his many other inventions, including the Phantom Zone and the solar-probe rockets, Jor-El grew both relaxed and excited. Suddenly, this alien visitor had opened many doorways in his imagination, made him feel that so many things were possible, that he was not alone.

  When he had described his studies of the swollen red-giant sun, Jor-El expressed his concerns about the possibility of Rao going supernova. Instead of the skepticism the Kryptonian Council exhibited, Donodon simply nodded slowly and gravely. “I see, yes, that is a problem. We must bring in other experts, but my people can certainly help Krypton evacuate, should the need rise.”

  “I have drawn up plans for arkships. Will we have time?”

  “Perhaps. Probably. There are certain indicators before a supernova occurs.”

  Jor-El could barely contain his exuberance, a long-forgotten enthusiasm coupled with relief. He began to believe Donodon could help Krypton with its many problems.

  When he described the instabilities in the planet’s core, as Zor-El had discovered, the tentacle-faced alien seemed more uncertain. “That is not my area of expertise, but with my ship I could possibly acquire the necessary data. By combing through my library and making use of your own technology and equipment, perhaps we can construct a deep mapping probe that can peer directly into your unstable core. It would be simple.”

  Jor-El already felt his pulse racing. “That would require an immense amount of power.”

  Donodon shrugged, as if he did such things every day. “I have traveled across several galaxies, and my ship holds the legacy of hundreds of civilizations. I do not believe that looking through a planet’s crust is an insurmountable problem.”

  As she painted alone, finishing the last obelisk, Lara heard a noise in the sky, which seemed overloud in contrast with the quiet of the estate. Glancing up, she saw a glint of silver, black, and blue—the alien’s oddly contoured ship coming here, to the estate! She paused in her work, looking up in amazement and delight. Her mind had been filled with questions and worries, but now it seemed that Jor-El must have contacted the alien and convinced the Council. She wasn’t surprised.

  Lara stepped back as the circling craft landed on the lush violet lawn. When the hatch opened, she saw two figures crowded inside. One was the diminutive alien in his baggy jumpsuit, and the other was Jor-El, as she had expected, wearing a boyish awed grin. He emerged, stretched his cramped muscles, and ran a hand over his tousled white hair. When he saw her standing there, his smile only widened. “Lara! I’ve brought us a visitor.”

  She stepped forward. “I can see that. Did the Council send you here?”

  He flushed. “We didn’t exactly give them much choice. They’re probably still discussing it.”

  Donodon’s feelers wafted around his face like thick tendrils of smoke as he peered at the unusual scenery and architecture around him. “A remarkable estate.” He noticed her last painted obelisk even before Jor-El did. “I see, yes. Kryptonian artwork is indeed superior to much that I have seen from other worlds.”

  Jor-El finally spotted her portrait of him, and he stared, speechless. His surprised, even embarrassed expression was all the reward she could possibly have asked for.

  CHAPT
ER 23

  He had already made up his mind that the alien visitor would have to die. Zod had thought it all through.

  Now that the Council had granted him their blessing, he gathered his rarely worn formal robes, donned the insignia of the Commission for Technology Acceptance, accepted a pompous writ of justification from old Jul-Us (as if Jor-El would require such a formality), and prepared his private vehicle for departure the following morning. He wanted to give Jor-El and Donodon enough time to begin their own technological mischief. He knew they would.

  In the back of Zod’s mind, disturbing ideas leapfrogged each other. The arrival of the alien visitor, the possibility of opening naïve and ill-prepared Krypton to a flood of outside influence, had changed everything. He knew it could rapidly spiral out of control.

  Zod had spent his whole life pulling strings, manipulating people who believed they were in power, building his position for the good of Krypton. By controlling the Commission, he had remained unobtrusive while becoming one of the most powerful men on Krypton. However, if Kryptonians opened trade and interaction among all the populated worlds in the twenty-eight known galaxies, Zod would become an insignificant speck of lint in a vast cosmic tapestry. And that wasn’t how he saw himself at all. If the blue-skinned alien were to inform outsiders of what he had found here, Krypton would never be the same.

  No matter whether Donodon’s intentions were good or evil, the future course of Krypton and the salvation of a clearly crumbling civilization required that the alien be killed before he could leave or before he could cause too much damage here.

  And Nam-Ek was the only one he could trust to do it. Looking at the big man as he flew the official vehicle swiftly across the grassy plains toward Jor-El’s estate, Zod smiled to remember how they had become bonded to each other.

  After the terrible tragedy in Nam-Ek’s youth, the noble houses of Krypton had remained uneasy about the speechless boy, sure that because something had been irrevocably wrong with his murderous father, therefore the son must be flawed as well. But Zod had taken the mute under his wing, insisting that no child should be punished for the failures of his parents. He had sheltered Nam-Ek, given him a home, teachers, and an ever more important place in his life. Zod never again spoke to Nam-Ek about his irrational, murderous father. No one could understand why Bel-Ek had done what he had done.

  Zod was not blind to the fact that inexplicable crimes were happening with increasing frequency. It did not surprise him. The very nature of the Kryptonian race was to soar, to aspire to things, but a rigidly pacifistic society had eliminated all safe outlets for minds and emotions to grow. A society could not survive in peace if the peace lasted for too long.

  However, the disruption the blue-skinned alien was about to cause would tear the fabric of Krypton apart. Zod very clearly realized that something drastic had to be done…but he couldn’t allow anyone to guess how far he was willing to go.

  When they arrived at the estate, Zod wanted to make it seem that he and Jor-El were easy acquaintances who visited each other often. After landing the vehicle, Nam-Ek remained beside it, muscular arms crossed, obviously ready to intervene should he perceive any threat to the Commissioner.

  Zod immediately spotted Jor-El and the alien outside working together, engrossed in a complex mechanical sculpture of mirrors, lenses, prisms, and light-catchers they were constructing, like a technological kaleidoscope. Donodon used many of his small gadgets to help with the assembly.

  “Greetings, Jor-El.” He bowed slightly. “I am here on formal business. The Council has requested that I come here to observe you and your strange guest.”

  Jor-El’s face was smudged with grease and dust. He looked up with a pleased smile. “Commissioner, as you can see we have gotten right to work. We are developing a seismic scanner that can penetrate directly to the planet’s core.”

  Donodon stood at his side. “Jor-El tells me we could be on the verge of a means to save your planet.”

  Strewn across the purple lawn near an overturned fountain (which appeared to have been dismantled to provide more working room, or maybe a few stray components) lay a dizzying array of pieces. Some of them had come from Jor-El’s laboratory facilities; others had apparently been stored as spare parts on Donodon’s ship.

  “Intriguing. I am glad to see you two getting along so well.”

  The ancient alien tucked away a few loose tools. “Yes, Jor-El and I have much in common.”

  “And how long will you stay here with us, Donodon?” Zod pressed, hoping he still sounded friendly.

  The alien stood in a relaxed stance; one of his probes had almost worked its way out of a pocket in his jumpsuit, and he deftly tucked it back in before sealing the seam. “I journeyed to Krypton to study your people, and I am learning everything I could possibly wish to know. I am in no hurry to depart.”

  Zod maintained a pleasant tone as he pried for further information. “Are others of your race coming? Does the galactic police force monitor your whereabouts?”

  “I am a solo explorer, and I travel my own route. Oh, every few decades I return home to share the information from my ship’s database.” Donodon looked directly at Zod, his face-feelers quivering. “I am fully aware that my arrival presents Krypton with a difficult choice. Will you open yourselves to the rest of the galaxy, or will you remain in total isolation?”

  “That is a vital question, but our Council is not particularly swift to act—as both Jor-El and I know, though for differing reasons.” Jor-El looked sidelong at him, as if trying to determine what Zod was up to. The Commissioner realized he would have to be more careful. “You are the first outsider to find us in many, many centuries.”

  “I see, yes. But if I can stumble upon Krypton, then others can as well. Will you welcome them or hide from them? I hope you make the correct choice.”

  “I fully intend to.”

  Donodon turned back to the device, inspecting its framework. He pointed with a thin, blinking cylinder. “We have installed one of my secondary power sources into the penetrating scanner, and I believe it should project sufficient energy to let us visualize deep down.”

  Zod looked at the construction, fully aware of the many dangerous things Jor-El had submitted, and surrendered, to the Commission in Kandor. What could Jor-El’s mind and this alien’s concoct together?

  “It sounds very powerful, enough to make me concerned.” Zod paced among the components. An idea was already forming in his mind. Yes, many dangerous things…“Is this seismic scanner another device I’ll need to lock away for the protection of all good Kryptonians? Does it pose any risk?”

  Jor-El’s eyes flashed, and he tensed. “None whatsoever.”

  Donodon nodded gravely. “Every object has the potential to be used for harm, but one should not imagine danger where none exists. Otherwise you will live your whole life in fear.”

  Zod was not entirely convinced, but he did have an idea. He would have to watch them carefully. “And when will you test this probe? How soon will you know if it functions?”

  “And how soon will we know if my brother’s concerns are justified?” Jor-El added, looking at the blue-skinned alien. “Another day. Two at the most. We are putting our fullest effort into this task.”

  “I can see that.” He came to a decision. “Then, since I have the full authority of the Council”—he withdrew the pretentious writ Jul-Us had given him—“I would like to remain here and be a part of the test.”

  Jor-El was taken aback. He considered the Commissioner with more than a hint of suspicion. “You are welcome to stay at my estate for the next day or so, provided you do not interfere. We have important work, and the Commission did ask me to provide them with proof of the danger in the core.”

  “If it exists.”

  “It exists.”

  “I would not dream of interfering. I will simply watch. You will barely even know I am here.”

  As the two worked, they ignored the Commissoner’s presence. He didn
’t mind. He watched the scientist and the alien continue to modify their frivolous, flashy device. They shared insights about theoretical physical principles that went far above Zod’s head.

  Meanwhile, Nam-Ek waited dutifully by the vehicle, but Zod would find him a place to sleep. Jor-El would pay even less attention to Zod’s burly bodyguard, and that was good.

  The young artist, Lara, daughter of Lor-Van, was also there at the estate, supposedly completing a project. She seemed oddly out of place as she watched, mystified by what Jor-El and Donodon were doing. She acknowledged Zod with a nod, but he paid little attention to her.

  Within a few hours, he had already seen what he needed and had already decided what he wanted Nam-Ek to do. It was swift and impulsive…and decisive.

  No one on the Council could suspect his plan. The big mute would do the difficult work, and he would do it well. The Commissioner had seen a way to remove the potential problem, as well as to increase his own control of the situation…and of Krypton itself.

  CHAPTER 24

  Returning home, Zor-El drew a deep, exhilarating breath of Argo City’s salty air. He stood on the central golden bridge that spanned the bay separating the peninsula from the mainland, letting traffic flow around him. Once again, he did not want to call attention to his arrival. Doing so would mean having to admit that his warning to the Council had been ignored.

  Great pillars in the seabed supported the long bridge above the water. Looking south, he could see another bridge farther down the coast and then, at the tail end of the peninsula, the misty outline of the last bridge. To the north he could see two other bridges, five in all.

  Long ago, the Argo City elders had launched a competition: The greatest architects would present their best bridge designs, and judges would decide which were the most beautiful, the most durable, the most innovative. Five of the proposed structures were so magnificent that the elders could not choose; they decided to give no prizes, but to erect all of the bridges as testaments to Kryptonian ingenuity.