The Last Days of Krypton

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “Because I’ve found Jax-Ur’s hidden stockpile of doomsday weapons. His nova javelins.”

  Zod sucked in a breath.

  “Fifteen of them. All are still functional, as far as I could tell.” Now she took him by the arm and led him toward the cooler shadows of his tent. “Provided you offer me an appropriate reward—shall we call it a finder’s fee?—I am certain you can think of some way to put those weapons to use.”

  Zod decided that this called for a celebratory meal after all. “Yes. I believe I can.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Jor-El and Lara’s brief bit of solitude and joy in the arctic palace was far too short. On the third day they departed, dreading what lay in store for them back in Kandor. No matter what the Council decreed after his trial, Jor-El would always have these bright memories to hold on to.

  As they approached the capital, though, they found that the whole world had changed.

  Instead of the bright spires of Krypton’s most magnificent city, they saw a complete holocaust. Lara let out a strangled cry as their covered flyer glided over the deep, fresh crater; Jor-El was too stunned to make a sound. The once-thriving capital was truly gone—the museums, the soaring crystal towers his father had built, the habitation complexes, the temple of Rao, the very heart of Krypton’s civilization.

  Lara pressed her fingers against the transparent plates of their aircraft as if she could reach down and touch the devastation. “Why?” was all she could whisper.

  Jor-El forced himself to set aside his horror and concentrate on the observable facts. “Were we attacked? It’s too clean, too perfectly delineated to be an explosion…almost as if someone scooped up or disintegrated the whole city. I don’t understand it.”

  “My parents were there,” Lara cried out suddenly, her voice hitching in a sob. “And poor Ki—he was only twelve! Jor-El, they’re gone! After our wedding, they went back to Kandor.” Her words stumbled to a halt as she thought of all the things that had been ripped away. She moaned.

  “Gone!” She broke down inside the cockpit, trembled with both anger and confusion. Then she reached over and clung to her husband, as if afraid something terrible might snatch him from her, too. She seemed caught in a cyclone of vivid, extreme emotions. He wrapped his arms around her, caring for Lara as the craft’s automated systems kept them level.

  As he held her, Lara’s whole body shuddered, a reaction that was less despair than grief and anger, coupled with a frantic need to do something. Knowing that nothing he could say would be sufficient, Jor-El simply kept his arms tightly around her, drawing her close, refusing to let go. The enormity of the situation roared like an intangible whirlwind around them. Finally he said with determination, “We have to find answers. We have to get to the bottom of this.” He gripped the controls so tightly that his knuckles turned white as he brought the flying craft down to the ground.

  They landed in the hastily assembled camp near the crater. The haggard and exhausted people they met there mumbled answers to Jor-El’s repeated inquiries; many of them shook their heads in confusion. Most people honestly didn’t know what had happened, while others said incomprehensibly that the magnificent capital city had been “stolen.” Tears streamed down Lara’s face as she watched the turmoil, completely at a loss.

  Upon learning of Jor-El’s return, Commissioner Zod found them. He greeted the shaken scientist with a quick, hard embrace. “Jor-El, my friend! By the red heart of Rao, I am glad to see you safe. Krypton needs you.” Zod had exchanged his formal robes for more utilitarian clothes: durable trousers and a loose black vest. He seemed exhausted, but also frenetic. “This is the greatest disaster ever to befall our world. The losses are incalculable.” Seeing Lara’s grief-stricken expression, he offered her a sympathetic look. “Ah, yes. Your parents left the wedding before Nam-Ek and I did, didn’t they? They must have been in Kandor when it happened.” He shook his head almost dismissively. “Another tragedy to add to so many. Everyone has lost somebody. The only thing to do is get through our collective grief. We are Kryptonians, and we will survive if we all pull together.” Zod gestured toward the enormous crater. “How can we even begin to measure such loss?” He looked at Jor-El. “It’s a miracle we still have you.”

  Jor-El summoned all the inner strength he had intended to use when facing the Council. Now even that ordeal seemed trivial. “I will assist in every way I can, but first I need to understand what happened here.”

  “It was an alien attack, just as we feared. Just as I warned about, if only the Council had listened.”

  Jor-El felt cold and sick. “Was it Donodon’s people, after all?” He couldn’t believe it.

  “No, the evil android that did this to Kandor had nothing to do with Donodon.”

  Jor-El saw some of the wan refugees staring at him. “People will still think I’m responsible, after all the accusations. Will they want my help if they think I brought this down upon us?”

  Zod scowled impatiently. “Then such nonsense must be silenced. I will see to it. We cannot waste time on casting blame and pandering to politics now.” He grabbed the scientist by both shoulders and faced him. “We have to defend ourselves, prepare for another attack, and how can we do that without you? We need your genius, Jor-El. We need things that Krypton has never before imagined—and we need them now.”

  Without giving the two of them time to absorb what had occurred, the Commissioner led them along trampled dirt paths, past tents, equipment sheds, and guarded storage silos. Lara followed her husband, still in shock but obviously full of questions. Jor-El could see she was close to collapse, barely managing to walk. He desperately wanted to take her away from here.

  In a crisp, businesslike voice Zod explained the immediate emergency measures he had taken and all the work that still needed to be done, and swiftly, to stabilize the situation. Zod became more animated, as if he had dispensed all the sympathy he deemed necessary for the moment.

  He led them into the long temporary mess hall, where the air was redolent with the smells of soup, fresh-baked bread, and dried fruits. Dirty, tired people crowded next to one another on makeshift benches, wolfing down food with a desperation that showed their lingering fear. Every person was covered with dust and sweat. Some of them looked listless and broken, while others were argumentative, lashing out at those nearby because they could find no better target for their helpless anger.

  Filled with purpose, Zod marched to the front of the food line, pulling Jor-El with him. As the Commissioner shouted for attention, the murmur of conversation in the long tent died down. The workers and refugees turned on their benches to listen.

  “I have wonderful news.” Zod raised Jor-El’s arm, clasping the scientist’s hand in his own fist. “The great Jor-El has survived. Although Kandor is gone, he is still with us.”

  The white-haired scientist flushed to find himself the center of public attention, especially in such tragic circumstances. Only a few days ago, the people of Krypton had been convinced that his negligence had placed their world in danger. He did not want to be applauded by them.

  Zod looked intently at Jor-El while the others wearily listened. “The slate is wiped clean. Our priorities are changed, and far worse alien threats face us. Real threats. We have wasted too much time and energy on irrelevant distractions.” He smiled, looking very benevolent and paternal.

  “As the provisional leader of Krypton and the de facto representative of the Kryptonian Council, I hereby pardon Jor-El of any charges pending against him. As of this moment, the matter is dismissed. There will be no inquest into the tragic death of Donodon. We cannot afford to squander our remaining resources. We need your help.”

  Jor-El was shocked. “But that doesn’t resolve the issue—”

  Zod cut him off. “We have been attacked. Our capital city is gone. What you can do for your people far outweighs any past mistakes. The Council was only seeking a scapegoat, after all.” He picked up a tray and personally dished up a meal for Jor-El. “All
Kryptonians share a common cause now. We must make our outside enemies fear us—and you can give us the means to accomplish that.”

  The conversation around them in the mess hall resumed. The people seemed heartened that Zod was directing them and also that Jor-El had come back. They began to believe Krypton might have a chance after all.

  In addition to the temporary camp set up on the edge of the crater, many intact residences on the outskirts had opened their doors to the refugees and aid workers. Waves of volunteers from all strata of Kryptonian society continued to rush blindly to the site of Kandor, though few understood the scope of what they were coming to do. Though they could have returned to the comfortable estate, Lara refused, insisting that they were needed in Kandor to help heal the wound Krypton had been dealt. A desperate need filled her eyes, and she was driven to work herself to the point of collapse…and then she would fall into a deep gloom that made her nearly catatonic. Jor-El remained beside her every moment.

  He wished Lara would confide in him, but he did not press her. He accompanied her as she, like so many other pale-faced and haggard refugees, trudged around the entire perimeter of the crater in a sort of obsession. They walked and stared, as if their procession could somehow bring back the lost city. Though the tragedies were individual, those who had been left behind shared a bond of mutual grief. Searching for answers, they traced the perfect circle around the great scar in what seemed to be an endless march.

  Scribes interviewed the people in the camps, carrying makeshift datapads. They took down the names of lost ones and recorded stories and remembrances, filling pad after pad. Two of them, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task, gave up in despair.

  In the evening, Jor-El sat beside Lara on the flat ground in a tent not far from Zod’s command post. Leaning back against the stiff fabric wall, she propped her sketchpad on her thighs and worked furiously, her gaze intent. Jor-El leaned close, sharing his warmth and love without interrupting her train of thought. She was weeping as she worked.

  With swift, sure strokes of her stylus Lara drew an image of her mother and father in happy times. The details were perfect. She drew her grinning brother, Ki-Van, next to them with his freckled face and tousled straw-colored hair. After hesitating, she included a figure of herself. She then dropped the stylus, racked in sobs. She stared at the sketch for a long time with unbearable pain in her eyes. “I don’t ever want to forget that this was my family, but drawing a picture can’t hold them here.”

  Jor-El stroked her hair as she leaned her head on his shoulder. “You won’t forget. I’m here for you.” He brushed a fingertip across her tearstained cheeks.

  “Thank you.” Lara looked up at him with a teary gaze. “You are my family now, Jor-El.”

  Zod dispelled any lingering resentment toward Jor-El by making a point of meeting with him daily. Everyone in the camp could see that the Commissioner and the great scientist were close companions, partners against the adversity Krypton now faced. Lara accompanied her husband, inseparable from him, though she said little. Her eyes remained red-rimmed and puffy, her expression drawn.

  During one such discussion in the command tent, a woman with short, dark hair entered wearing a self-satisfied grin. “So, Lara! Do you remember an old friend from your student days?”

  Surprise animated Lara’s sad face. She couldn’t seem to believe what she was seeing. “Aethyr-Ka! I haven’t seen you since the Academy. I heard your family had cut you off.”

  “It was more the reverse, in fact.” She grew serious. “But that hardly matters now. The Commissioner needs my help—and he could use yours, too.”

  Lara turned to Jor-El, heaving a sigh and finding the energy to explain. “Aethyr was one of the only students willing to visit historical sites with me. Camping out in the open, eating preserved rations, sleeping on the ground. What miserable times those were!” She sounded almost wistful, distracted for a moment from her deep loss.

  Aethyr’s dark eyes flashed. “Miserable? Admit it—you’ve never felt more alive.” A troubled flicker crossed Lara’s face, but the other woman pressed on “I’m certain we’ll be seeing much more of each other. We must catch up on old times.”

  “After we restore some semblance of normal life for the people,” Zod said sternly. “We all have work to do.” He turned to Jor-El. “In years past you brought such intriguing inventions to my Commission, but the shortsighted Council forced me to seize them from you. Now it is time to revisit those old plans.”

  Jor-El couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “Your Commission destroyed most of my best work.”

  “I have great faith in your abilities. I give you full permission—in fact my most enthusiastic encouragement—to work without restrictions or inhibitions. Is that not what you always wanted?”

  Jor-El wondered if Zod finally understood how deeply the Commission had hurt him over the years. Again and again, the man had capriciously declared Jor-El’s greatest ideas to be unacceptable or dangerous. To expend so much effort and see it all wasted would have shattered a lesser man, yet even with his confidence undermined, he had continued to work, to invent, and to achieve breakthroughs.

  Now the ground rules had changed, though, and the Commissioner needed more from him.

  “Do what you were born to do. The whole planet is counting on you.”

  Jor-El realized he had been waiting all his life to hear those words.

  CHAPTER 36

  Even as the people of Argo City pulled together to recover from their own disaster, the loss of Kandor struck Zor-El with great dread. “Our world is in danger,” he told Alura. They stood together in his observation tower, looking out at the deceptively calm sea. “Volcanic eruptions, quakes, giant waves, the buildup in the core—and now an alien attack. There’s got to be something more I can do.”

  Alura was levelheaded and matter-of-fact. “Commissioner Zod is directing the Kandor volunteers and refugees well enough. You need to keep doing the same thing here. Argo City is your city. Rally and reassure them.”

  Zor-El wished he could send more assistance up to Kandor to help his brother, but he was barely able to cope with his own disaster. All along the coast, the massive rebuilding efforts continued. Since the tsunami had smashed the piers and battered the seawall, the people of Argo City had labored with remarkable solidarity. Rescue teams scouring the long shoreline had found only a few survivors among the hundreds of dead. Funerals were held day after day; Zor-El had personally spoken at forty of the ser vices. During their mourning, however, the citizens also grew more determined.

  Medical centers were overflowing; several of the city’s power generators and water-purification plants remained damaged. A few main piers were repaired first so that boats could be launched again, and fishermen worked overtime to bring in aquatic harvests. When they produced more than enough for their own needs, they rushed extra supplies to the refugees at the crater of Kandor. It was the only aid they could offer.

  Although Zor-El had been too overwhelmed to attend his brother’s recent wedding, at least he knew Jor-El was married, no longer facing a trial, and assisting Commissioner Zod—all of which was comforting news. Krypton couldn’t ask for a greater help.

  In the meantime, construction crews reinforced and raised Argo City’s seawall, after which Zor-El took the extra step of augmenting it with a greatly expanded protective field, based on the one that he had designed for his diamondfish probes. Unless something fundamental was done to relieve the pressure in the planet’s core, though, more quakes would strike, further tsunamis would batter the coast, and restless volcanoes would continue to erupt.

  Amid all the turmoil, Zor-El had finally dispatched a new survey team to the southern continent. Soon he would have all the evidence he needed…but instead of a useless, stagnant central government, Krypton had no government at all. With Kandor gone and Argo City brought to its knees, Zor-El didn’t know how anyone could manage a project of such magnitude.

  More swiftly tha
n anyone could have expected, however, Commissioner Zod had jumped into the power vacuum. Zor-El wondered if the other man would acknowledge the far greater problem. “Maybe now I can speak to someone who will see reason.”

  “Do you think Zod has that vision?” Alura asked. “Will he hear you?”

  His dark eyebrows drew together skeptically. “I don’t know about Zod. He is intelligent and ambitious, but he’s proved an impediment to progress so many times in the past.”

  “Many things have changed…”

  “Yes. Let’s hope that his mind has changed.”

  He and Alura left the villa and walked together through the bustling streets, along the burbling canals, crossing one ornate pedestrian bridge after another. The center of Argo City had recovered quickly, but still the sounds of construction reverberated everywhere. They passed homes bedecked with beautiful flower vines, multicolored herbs, blossoming ferns, and spore trees. Butterflies and pollinating bees descended in droves, adding a pleasant background hum to the air. For today, at least, nature seemed oblivious to impending geological disasters and alien attacks.

  Thin streams cascaded off the sides of buildings, trickling down in small waterfalls to strike fountain basins. Weary people came out to stand on their colonnaded balconies, took seats on stone benches, or leaned up against hedges. Even after the disaster, children still found reasons to play in the streets, resiliently discovering joy in life.

  Since Kandor could not possibly be rebuilt, Zor-El considered suggesting that Argo City become Krypton’s new capital, at least in the interim. Though he had no interest in serving as planetary leader, he and the heads of other population centers might provide the basis of a new council. A competent council. Zor-El began to doubt, however, that Commissioner Zod had any inclination to hand over the reins of power. That concerned him.

  Instead of delivering ponderous speeches to swelling audiences, Zor-El simply walked through squares and gathering points, talking personally to the people, who listened and helped to spread his words.