The Last Days of Krypton

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “What do we do now, Zor-El? Is there a plan?” called a citizen with long white hair and a clean-shaven face. Zor-El recognized him as a man who designed and built barges.

  “Krypton has no capital, no Council, no Temple of Rao.” Zor-El straightened. “But Krypton still has its most important resource—people like you and me. And we have our determination.”

  “Is Argo City safe?” called someone else. “What can we do if Brainiac shows up here?”

  He nodded sagely. “That is my challenge to you: prepare for the unthinkable. We’ve got to consider the long term. How do we save Krypton? How do we all survive?” Zor-El raised his burned hand as if it were a badge of honor. “Take heart. Argo City will carry the flame now. I’ll remain in contact with my brother Jor-El, and we will get through this.”

  As the sun set over the mainland to the west, the sky presented a blazing and colorful spectacle. Every day the dusk grew increasingly beautiful, but Zor-El could think only of more ash, more fire, and more turmoil being thrown into the atmosphere.

  CHAPTER 37

  While he waited for Aethyr to arrive for their special planning session, Zod stood at the flap of his headquarters tent and looked across the expanse of hastily erected huts in the deepening twilight.

  Settling in for what they expected to be long months or years of work, the people had already begun to decorate their shelters with tassels, family symbols, and reflective streamers as a way to defy the grimness all around them. As darkness fell, the many mourners gathered to sing and tell stories in what had become an impromptu tradition. Already numerous ballads and poems had been written about lost loved ones, lionizing the wealth and beauty of Kandor.

  Spontaneously, refugees joined with well-meaning volunteers to make pilgrimages to the edge of the crater and throw flowers, ribbons, and other mementos into the deep emptiness. Priests of Rao had set up small temples to attract new worshippers in their prayers to the great red sun. Little shrines of glowing crystals and treasured images of loved ones littered the perimeter, so many that Zod worried they would soon begin to get in the way. Did every single lost person deserve his or her own memorial?

  Six hollow-eyed boys and girls played together, throwing rocks into a deep puddle, but they seemed to take no joy in it. In the first week many survivors had drifted away from the crater to find temporary housing with distant friends or relatives. Others, without options or without the will to go anywhere, remained in the camp.

  The Commissioner had waited long enough for this evening, but Aethyr treated it as no more than a casual event. She arrived wearing comfortable tan field clothes and a brown vest with pockets for tools or samples. Her billowy sleeves were smudged with dust. If she had worn a fine gown, costly jewelry, or intoxicating perfume, Zod would not have been so attracted to her.

  Inside his command tent, a small table had been covered with fabric and set with a selection of savory appetizers. Warm, glowing crystals were distributed in the corners and on shelves. Aethyr lounged back in a seat across from him. “So, Commissioner, is this to be a romantic meal between the two of us? Shall I expect to be seduced, or is this a strategy session?”

  Zod leaned across the table. “I’ve watched you, Aethyr. You’re like me in many ways.”

  She chuckled. “What do you mean by that? And you didn’t answer my question.”

  “People like us find nothing more intense than tactical and political discussions. Tonight you and I could decide the future of Krypton. Isn’t that intriguing?”

  With a confident smile, she reached over to clasp his hand. “So, the answer is seduction, then.”

  He called for the main course, a freshwater fish stuffed with nuts along with spiced vegetables roasted over an open fire. Jellied fruits crusted with sugar crystals and mounted on tiny skewers made a festive dessert.

  Upon learning that Jor-El’s personal chef had joined the ever-growing group of volunteers, Zod had quickly taken advantage of the man’s talents. Fro-Da worked wonders producing great quantities of palatable, nutritious food for the camp’s population. Tonight, though, the chef had prepared a very special meal for Zod and his guest.

  With the bounty spread in front of them, Zod sent the smiling chef away with his thanks. When he curtly told Nam-Ek to keep away any eavesdroppers, he was satisfied that the bearded mute would kill anyone who tried to defy those wishes.

  Zod got down to business with Aethyr. “I secured my position by acting swiftly. The people needed a leader, and I offered myself. No one else rose to the challenge. No one else has offered an alternative. I want to keep it that way—for the good of Krypton, naturally.”

  “Naturally. It must have been quite a shock for everyone to see government acting swiftly.” She smiled. “Krypton’s noble families are incapable of responding to sudden needs, but you can expect to hear complaints once they recover from their shock.” Aethyr was persistent. “This is our window of opportunity. Right now, the people in this camp are united by tragedy. They’re yours to command. They’ll do anything you ask of them.”

  “But that won’t last,” Zod finished for her. “They rushed here, desperate to help, but soon they will realize that nothing can be done. There is no one here to save, no city left to rebuild. The suburbs and outlying fields and some industrial areas remain, but they are extremities without a heart or mind.”

  “Then buy time before the people begin to disperse. Give them something to do. Make up a harmless project in the short term and give them guidance for the long term.”

  “Intriguing.” Zod ran a finger down his short beard. “I can formalize the project of gathering names, putting together a database of everyone who needs to be remembered. That will keep them busy. In fact, I’ll even propose a massive memorial—a huge crystal wall etched with the names of everyone who vanished with Kandor. A pointless gesture, I know, but they seem to need an outlet for their sorrow.”

  “They’ll throw themselves into it wholeheartedly and praise the name of Zod for his warm heart and his understanding of the people.”

  “You sound very cynical, Aethyr.”

  “Not cynical—pragmatic.” She popped another morsel into her mouth and licked her fingers clean. “Also, once you reveal that you have Jax-Ur’s nova javelins, you can claim to be the only person strong enough to defend Krypton against outside enemies like Brainiac. And that’s the truth. What will you do if he returns?”

  “I am confident that will not happen,” Zod said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “He is not quite so appallingly evil as I painted him. Brainiac already has what he wants, and he left the rest of Krypton for me.”

  Aethyr was surprised, then seemed to admire him. “Of course. You were the only one who spoke with the android, so you could alter the story to serve your own purposes. Then all your talk, your beating of the drums, your calling for a massive buildup of defenses—”

  Zod folded his hands. “In order to gain power and unite the Kryptonian people, I need to show that I am protecting them. Peace and a common vision once bound us together, but I have found something even stronger: fear. With it, we will cement our hold on Krypton. The best enemies are fabricated enemies for two reasons: one, we have nothing to worry about, and two, the populace falls in line. And if Jor-El—my ally—develops new weapons as I have instructed him to do, no other would-be leader can hope to oppose me. Victory by fiat.”

  “What about Donodon’s race?”

  “It will be a long time before they discover he’s missing, and longer still until they track him here.” He picked up some of the seared vegetables, crunching them as he continued to talk. “In the worst case, we can offer Jor-El as the culprit, as the Council intended to do all along.”

  “So you have it all planned, then?” Aethyr had moved on to dessert and ate some of the candied fruits, then stabbed the empty skewer into the bones of the half-eaten fish on the main serving plate. The juice colored her lips a luscious crimson.

  “Yes, I do.”

&
nbsp; “I have plans, too. You have succeeded in establishing calm, order, and productivity, persevering through great adversity, when no other city leader dared step up to the challenge. In the unlikeliest of circumstances, you, Zod, were Krypton’s savior.”

  “Krypton’s savior…” Zod leaned closer to her. He liked the sound of that.

  “We must send loyal followers to all other cities to proclaim your heroism. You’ll get the majority of the people easily enough, especially if you ally yourself with the more prominent noble families.”

  Zod could not hide his sour frown. “But the prominent nobles are the ones who want the position for themselves, especially Shor-Em in Borga City. He expected a Council seat as soon as one of the members retired.” He let out a sardonic chuckle. “Of course, all eleven have now retired.”

  “Dru-Zod, son of Cor-Zod, I can tell you’re an only child! Consider other members of the noble families, not just the oldest sons. Second, third, and fourth children. Think of all those sons and daughters born into privilege, yet denied any chance to become Council members. What about Shor-Em’s younger brother, Koll-Em, who is far more ambitious? Many younger nobles like him never had any opportunities open to them. They’ll see this as their chance. If you offer them a way to participate in a powerful government—your government—they’ll follow you anywhere.” She reached out and traced a finger down the opening in his shirt, a sensuous tickle that could easily turn into a scratch.

  “I begin to see.” Zod took a long sip of his wine, admiring the dry Sedra vintage. Then he took her hand.

  Aethyr shifted her position, coming closer to him. “Why do you think I rebelled against my parents? I had no interest in becoming a trophy that adorns some husband’s arm. So I went out and did what I wished to do, much to my family’s dismay.” She pulled back, nearly hypnotizing him with her large eyes. “I can think of nothing more attractive than to see you do away with the old order—entirely.”

  He tried to kiss her, but she drew away, still talking. “Other younger nobles might not have expressed their dissatisfaction so blatantly, but they’re much the same as I am. Younger sons and daughters of the most powerful families are given nothing important to do, nothing to challenge their abilities. Offer them some power and prestige.”

  She finished her wine in a single gulp and wiped her mouth. “Many of the younger nobles are truly lazy and decadent, but some of us do have ambitions. It’s very different to be told that you don’t have to do anything, as opposed to not being allowed to do anything.”

  Now she leaned forward to kiss him, pressing her moist lips firmly against his. He could still taste the heady wine on her mouth. “And how do I take advantage of this unexpected pool of candidates?” he asked.

  “Offer them what they hunger for. Bypass the privileged older noble children and promote the lesser ones. Their loyalty will impress you.” Her tunic came unfastened easily, and he roughly pushed the fabric down, baring her shoulders, then her breasts.

  Zod’s mind spun with the ideas Aethyr had presented, the tantalizing chance to re-create Krypton from scratch. She tore his shirt in her urgent need to remove it. They quickly moved to the thick sleeping pads, kissing deeply, tasting the exotic flavors of the meal and the spicy allure of the possibilities they both saw. They drank each other in.

  CHAPTER 38

  Now unexpectedly exonerated, Jor-El began to assist Commissioner Zod in strengthening Krypton. He was wary that the ambitious Commissioner might be taking advantage of the tragedy to gather a great deal of personal power. On the other hand, Jor-El had witnessed firsthand the total paralysis of the old Council, and he couldn’t imagine them trying to deal with the disaster. At least Zod was getting things done.

  And Jor-El intended to do the same. He and Lara returned to his research building at the estate, where he assembled all his best ideas for the protection of his planet. First and most important, the Commissioner had decided that Krypton must be vigilant, alert for any alien attack force that might come against them.

  With Zod’s encouragement, Jor-El designed a large array of observation telescopes to scan the heavens and provide an early warning about any threats from space. This was a significant turnabout from his previous dealings with the old government, which had never given his proposals much serious consideration. So far, at least, Zod was giving the brilliant scientist free rein. That was a silver lining to the cloud of awful events that had happened.

  As an astronomer, Jor-El had always been fascinated with the heavens, other stars, nebulae, black holes. He longed to see what was Out There. Previously, the dour Council had chided him for his preoccupations. “Distant worlds mean nothing to Kryptonians,” old Jul-Us had once pronounced in a ponderous voice from his high bench. “It is best that you keep your eyes toward Krypton.”

  Now, everything had changed. Zod wanted him to turn his gaze outward.

  “And those small rockets you built, the ones confiscated by the Council?” the Commissioner had said. “Find a way to modify them so they can carry explosives rather than scientific probes.”

  “I need to continue my solar studies,” Jor-El said. “We must monitor the fluctuations in Rao.”

  “So long as you help create defensive missiles, we can both get what we want out of this situation.”

  Jor-El had never meant to “get something” from the situation. He merely intended to devote his work to helping Krypton recover from disaster and to stay safe.

  He chose a perfect site for the observation network on the uninhabited plains not far from his estate and mapped out a broad-baseline listening post consisting of twenty-three parabolic telescope dishes. He made only clumsy sketches, but Lara proved to be a remarkable help by cleaning up his drawings until they were precise blueprints. From his command tent at the crater, Zod approved the plans with barely a glance. “You will have all the resources, equipment, workers, and materials you could possibly need.”

  Less than two days later, like an invading army, heavy machinery rattled away from the refugee settlement and rumbled across dry grasslands to the open land Jor-El had chosen. The volunteer workers seemed glad to participate in such a significant project.

  Constructors cleared the grasses, plowed new access roads, excavated foundations, and sank anchor pilings down to bedrock. At Zod’s command, foundries from the mines in Corril began producing the structural girders and conduits needed for the framework of the telescope dishes. Tyr-Us, the industrialist leader of Corril, complained about the imposition, but obeyed anyway. Anyone at the refugee camp who demonstrated an ability to perform skilled or technological labor was shipped away to help build the listening post.

  Jor-El was amazed, even overwhelmed. In all his years of research, he had never been offered so much assistance. Previously, his projects had been mere experiments, prototypes to be submitted to (and usually confiscated by) the Commission for Technology Acceptance. Now, though, his dreams became large-scale practicality.

  Lara spent the days beside him as his wife, his companion, and his sounding board. Though they had been married for only a short time, she could easily read his moods. Though the loss of her parents and little brother still weighed heavily on her, and she remained restless and agitated, she drew strength from Jor-El and gave it back at the same time. She wrote faithfully in her personal historical journal, recording firsthand all the activities around them; someday it would be a valuable—and accurate—chronicle of what had really taken place during Krypton’s most difficult days.

  As she watched the construction continue, Lara was pleased to see so many people following her husband’s instructions. “You have an amazing second chance, Jor-El. Krypton needs you. I always knew you’d be found innocent.”

  He turned away from the rising dust and rumble, unable to hide a troubled frown. “I wasn’t found innocent, Lara. I was pardoned. Those are two different things. People will still assume I’m guilty, but that Commissioner Zod simply needed something from me. A shadow of doubt will
always hang over me.”

  “I don’t think so, Jor-El.” Lara placed her fingers on his cheeks, turned his face to hers, and gave him a kiss. “Look around you. Krypton is forever changed.”

  Unlike his brother, Jor-El had always held himself aloof from politics, avoiding the petty rivalries and arguments in the Council. Though he’d been repeatedly offered a seat among the eleven, he could imagine nothing more frustrating than to spend his days in bureaucratic quicksand. Better to let them worry that he could accept the appointment any time he wished.

  The government had wasted time on decisions that improved one noble family’s personal standing rather than Kryptonian society as a whole; they had misplaced priorities. With his science Jor-El felt he was doing far greater work than a political career would ever have allowed. He had bypassed the Council when necessary, done what he believed was right, and completed his independent studies.

  Now, however, he didn’t have to worry about Zod’s Commission seizing and locking away his greatest discoveries. Zod had once been his greatest rival and nemesis, but now he couldn’t help but feel a sort of grudging gratitude toward the intense man.

  Together, Jor-El and Lara watched the first tall girders being installed into pilings for the listening dishes. At the speed these people were working, it would be less than a month before he could begin thorough, round-the-clock observations. While the Commissioner was primarily concerned about alien invaders, Jor-El couldn’t wait for the scientific opportunities this huge telescope array would offer. He could finally produce a complete sky survey in various wavelengths.

  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.