The Last Days of Krypton

by Kevin J. Anderson

  His father was far too intelligent not to grasp how the terrible illness would progress, how he would slowly degenerate until he lost his mind entirely. Jor-El couldn’t imagine how the man had endured such knowledge.

  On the far milky wall of the tower he saw the bold, even defiant serpentine family symbol inside its diamond-shaped outline. Yar-El had placed this mark prominently here. Even as the disease worsened, the older man had not forgotten who he was or what his family meant to him.

  Fascinated, even compelled, Jor-El stepped close to the smooth interior wall, face-to-face with the large symbol. “What is it you want from me, Father? If only you had spoken to me back when it was possible.” With a finger he traced the S-shaped curve.

  And at his touch, the lines began to glow. A circular section of the tower wall surrounding the mark shimmered with a lambent light.

  Yar-El appeared. His image stood tall and majestic in his scientist’s robes. His silver hair had been brushed back, and he had placed a fine chain on his forehead. His voice was stentorian, his words fraught with meaning. Jor-El couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his father speak with such power and conviction.

  “Jor-El, my son, I have left this message for you. I created this tower for a purpose I can no longer see. I trust you to understand what I do not, for too much is slipping away from me now. This may be the last time my mind can hold all of these thoughts. I feel so much draining out of me like water through a sieve….”

  Jor-El realized what his father had done. The family symbol had been set down as a pattern covered with a veneer of message crystal! His own warm touch had activated it.

  Yar-El continued, “I once felt sorry for those who could not understand my calculations or my theories. Can you imagine how much more terrible it is to know that you once had that clarity and understanding, but that it is now gone? No matter how hard I clutch at them, the memories flit away.

  “With my analytical mind I achieved many wondrous things, yet I paid for those triumphs. The fire that burns brightest also burns out most swiftly. Our race is changing. I am an anomaly—as are my sons. Both sons.

  “Beware. It is not enough to flaunt your genius. A truly integrated Kryptonian uses both heart and mind. By joining the two, you will achieve your ultimate potential. You can be a true superman.”

  The image flickered, and Yar-El shuddered. His intangible gaze turned until he was looking directly at his son. “I am sorry I could not be there for you. I know you, Jor-El. I know your brother. Hold tight to yourselves. I wish we could walk together into the future. Instead, the future is up to you.”

  “Father!” He reached out to the image. Old Yar-El bowed his head, closed his eyes, and vanished as the recording ended, leaving Jor-El inside the tower, feeling more alone than ever.

  He worked for days, tinkering with the separate pieces of Donodon’s ship, trying to understand how they fit together. The Commission for Technology Acceptance had not been terribly meticulous in keeping detailed records as they dismantled the vessel, and now Jor-El had to use his best efforts to put them back in the right place.

  Despite numerous attempts, no matter how much care he used in taking apart component after component, the riddle of the alien’s stardrive was beyond him. Even though Zod was waiting for him to make some great breakthrough, Jor-El could barely grasp the basics, and he was a long way from designing a copy so that Kryptonian industry could build a powerful space navy. That was Zod’s ultimate goal.

  Setting aside his work on the starship engines, he found a separate enclosed system, the amazing library database of the planets his alien friend had visited. Here, inside the navigation system, Jor-El could find the log entries of all the fascinating journeys Donodon had made.

  The ancient message from dying Mars played over and over in his mind. Jor-El had hoped he would become inured to it, but he kept being reminded of how far that strange civilization had fallen. If the Council hadn’t shunned such explorations, might someone from Krypton have been able to visit the red planet in time, so long ago? Had Donodon’s people been able to do something?

  Using the distant early-warning array, Jor-El had already pinpointed the origin of the Martian signal: a solar system with an average yellow sun so small and far away that it was barely visible in Krypton’s night sky. With that information in hand, he plunged into Donodon’s navigation logs, combing through the records of the alien’s travels, star system after star system…. Yes!

  In his explorations, Donodon had visited that yellow sun around which Mars orbited. According to his log, the alien explorer had also picked up the desperate message and gone to investigate, but even he had been too late. Donodon had stood alone in the thin, cold air of Mars, recording what he saw in the spaceship’s database.

  Staring at the display screen from the separate navigation system, propping the bulky component on the least-cluttered laboratory table, Jor-El played images of weathered rust-colored terrain and fallen cities that emphasized what the forlorn last Martian had already said. Though the continent-wide canals were dry and parched, they showed the mammoth scope of the lost race’s achievements. Now iron-oxide dust coated everything, slowly erasing the marks of an advanced civilization.

  He thought about showing this remarkable discovery to Commissioner Zod, but felt a strange hesitation. To what purpose? Zod would not care, and the Martian race had already been extinct for countless years. The Commissioner would no doubt dismiss the heartbreaking message by saying that the dead race was no threat to Krypton and was therefore irrelevant. Jor-El decided to keep this to himself.

  When he advanced Donodon’s log to the next entry, however, Jor-El was so impressed, so inexplicably happy, that he ran back to the manor house and woke Lara from a deep sleep. He excitedly brought her out to the tower chamber so that she could see for herself. She rubbed her eyes and followed him across the dewy purple lawn, then leaned against him as the two of them watched the screen that had been taken from the dismantled ship.

  Jor-El played the record of the next place the wizened, intrepid alien had visited. “Watch this, Lara. It’s a beautiful planet, sparkling and blue, so peaceful and full of life.”

  Though Mars was dead, the next planet closer to the yellow sun was covered with oceans and swathed in gauzy clouds. The continents showed a variety of terrain ranging from frozen ice caps to mountains, forests, grasslands—and cities…wonderful, vibrant cities. Donodon had not contacted these people directly, but preferred to view them from a discreet distance. Their civilization was young and thriving, on the verge of technological expansion.

  The people had only recently discovered radio communications and happily broadcast their existence out into the universe without a care as to who might hear them. They played exotic-sounding music. They built tall buildings that scraped the sky. These people were full of energy, unhampered by stifling restrictions such as those that had been imposed by the Kryptonian Council.

  When Donodon’s surreptitious surveillance zoomed in close enough to show the inhabitants themselves, Lara drew a surprised breath. “They look just like Kryptonians!”

  “Yes, the racial similarity is eerie.” Jor-El leaned closer. He felt an unusual kinship with the people on the third planet from the yellow sun. They seemed imaginative, ambitious, innovative, not afraid to risk failure. Jor-El longed to contact these people, share information and solutions with them—much as Donodon had intended to do when he’d come to Krypton.

  Jor-El and Lara found the place beautiful and compelling, reminiscent of Krypton, yet very different. These people called their planet Earth.

  CHAPTER 44

  The next day Nam-Ek arrived at the estate, brusquely handing a message crystal to a curious Jor-El inside the tower laboratory. The shimmering image of Commissioner Zod rose like smoke from Jor-El’s palm. “I need your help now more than ever, Jor-El.” His thin voice was insistent. “I envision a project so grand that it will take our best work to accomplish it. Come and help
us create the future—the next capital of Krypton. Nam-Ek will bring you and your wife to me, to the ancient ruins of Xan City.”

  The bearded mute gestured insistently toward the special flying raft he had brought. The vehicle had fast engines and soft seats, open to the warm air, but with an enclosed canopy to protect them from hot sun or bad weather.

  Jor-El and Lara looked at each other. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t like this. It didn’t sound like a request.”

  Nam-Ek was stony-faced. He shook his head vigorously.

  Jor-El stepped up to the mute. “I have important work here, and so does Lara. We can’t just leave.”

  In response, the other man replayed Zod’s message, then made an imperious gesture to the vehicle. Jor-El felt angry, but also uneasy about the lengths to which the Commissioner’s bodyguard would go.

  “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” Lara demanded of Nam-Ek.

  The mute shook his head. His expression was implacable.

  Though not pleased, Jor-El did not argue as they both climbed aboard the vehicle. Zod would have his way, and Jor-El was beginning to resent it more and more.

  The flying raft hummed as it shot across the distance, heading toward unpopulated and sparsely explored regions of the continent. Nam-Ek stood by himself at the controls, only occasionally turning around to look at his passengers.

  In spite of her surprise, Lara was grudgingly fascinated by the prospect of visiting such a famed historical site. “Xan City…why would the Commissioner go to an abandoned ruin like that in the first place? He never seemed much interested in history.” Then she nodded. “I’ll bet Aethyr had something to do with it.”

  When they finally reached their destination by late afternoon, Jor-El saw a small cluster of temporary shelters that had been erected in the crumbling old city. Aethyr directed them to the Commissioner’s makeshift office. Inside, Zod stood surrounded by numerous wafer-thin windows that projected images of the city ruins, overlaid with drawings of a fantastic new city to rise from the ashes of the old. “Thank you both for coming so promptly.”

  Jor-El glanced at Nam-Ek, who stood with muscular arms crossed over his chest. “Your man seemed to think it was an order.”

  “Yes, he can be quite implacable. Nevertheless, I assure you this is crucial.” Zod raised a hand, leading them out of his temporary office structure. “Come with me and see how I intend to keep Krypton safe.”

  Even Aethyr looked as if she would burst with anticipation. “Xan City is full of treasures left by Jax-Ur.” She hung close beside Lara. “This will solve a mystery that’s centuries old!”

  Zod escorted them down a steep set of metal stairs to a labyrinth of underground chambers and then to a bustling central room. The chamber’s walls were lined with copper-alloy sheets. Antique but sophisticated-looking control decks glowed with diagnostic crystals. High-resolution plates displayed detailed maps of the entire surface of Krypton.

  Seven newly recruited technicians from the Kandor camp now sat at the panels, touching crystals, studying readings, and conferring among themselves. By the hunch of their shoulders and the set of their necks and arms, Jor-El could tell the technicians were tense in the Commissioner’s presence. They had placed their faith in Zod, sworn their loyalty, and followed his orders.

  “What is all this, Commissioner?” Lara asked, still gazing around.

  “Weapons of such magnitude that they will keep us safe from all enemies.”

  Jor-El felt a lump in his throat. “What sort of weapons? Where did you get them?”

  As if sharing a secret, Aethyr looked directly at Lara, who suddenly went pale with realization. “You found them? After all these centuries?”

  Jor-El glanced quickly at his wife, and then he knew. “You found some of Jax-Ur’s nova javelins?”

  Zod met his eyes, calm and confident with just a flash of defiance. “All of them. All fifteen.”

  Jor-El remembered how naïve he had been during his first dinner conversation with Lara, when they’d talked about the terrible mark the warlord had left on Krypton. “Why would you need such power, Commissioner?”

  “To repel an outside invasion, of course.” Taking Jor-El by the arm, he marched to the other side of the control room, where he activated a palm crystal. An opaque shield in the copper walls slid aside to reveal one of the sleek nova javelins, so close that Jor-El felt he could reach out and touch it. “Intriguing, is it not?” Zod said near to Jor-El’s ear. “You know you’ve always had questions about them.”

  Despite his uncertainty and Lara’s obvious unease, Jor-El was captivated by the weapon’s smooth lines, the tall golden stalk that still gleamed bright even after being buried for centuries. The fins at its base were like bent legs, sharpened to points; balanced atop a slender shaft was an elongated gold ellipsoid filled with destruction.

  Jor-El was greatly uneasy to be involved with such destructive power. “And you need me to see if these ancient weapons can be repaired?”

  “No, no—I believe they will function perfectly well. No-Ton and our technicians have been cleaning, tuning, and performing basic tests. Jax-Ur created weapons of enduring destructive power. You have to admire him.”

  Jor-El stared through the observation plate at the doomsday weapon. “Then what do you need from me, Commissioner? Why bring us all the way here to these ruins?”

  “These ruins are our new home.” Zod smiled. “I just wanted you to know that Krypton no longer needs to rely solely upon you. I hope this eases your burden. Aren’t you relieved? Here Krypton’s true government can have access to all the power we may require under any circumstance.”

  CHAPTER 45

  Commissioner Zod’s announcement that he would reestablish his capital at the site of Xan City was greeted with general favor. Groups of volunteers and refugees packed up and joined crowded convoys heading south, abandoning the temporary camp at the crater. Despite a few stubborn holdouts, most people were convinced they needed a fresh start, far from the scar of Kandor.

  Before any major work crews arrived, though, Zod had Nam-Ek remove the monolithic old statue of the fallen warlord. He refused to rule in the shadow of a failed tyrant. He also ordered the statues of Jax-Ur’s kneeling rivals to be taken away, though he whimsically decided to keep one of them in his new office.

  Once all the heavy equipment arrived at Xan City, the cleanup and construction crews began their massive new project. With appropriate encouragement, they applauded the triumphant, breathtaking vision of a soaring metropolis, a replacement for Kandor. The sixteen members of Zod’s Ring of Strength issued a great deal of propaganda and promises. The Commissioner displayed fantastic blueprints for his grand new city rising from the ashes of the old.

  After clearing away the fallen columns and walls in damaged sections of the city, the new workers would rebuild what could be salvaged and create everything else from scratch. The Commissioner gave Jor-El and Lara their own quarters in one of the first reconstructed dwellings so that they could remain here to help; the scientist and his wife had no choice but to leave their distant estate behind and live here, at least temporarily, until the work of the new capital city was done. For his main administrative building, Zod ordered the reconstruction of a government palace in what had been Jax-Ur’s central citadel.

  Meanwhile, from far away in his fine house in Borga City, Shor-Em issued a shrill condemnation of Zod’s seizure of power, outraged that one man—a “mere Commissioner”—should think that he alone could rule the people. Once again, he proposed Borga City as a much better alternative for the “interim” capital. Other prominent outspoken citizens joining his protest included Tyr-Us, son of old Jul-Us, from the metal city of Corril in the ore-rich mountains, and Gil-Ex from Orvai in the lake district. But they were far too late.

  By now, it had been nearly two months since the Kandor disaster. Tyr-Us, Gil-Ex, and Shor-Em had taken two months to raise their objections to what he had been doing (and they
offered no concrete alternative). Zod simply couldn’t abide that.

  No one could have imagined, much less implemented, a faster return to normalcy. Instead of the endless talk and governmental lethargy to which most Kryptonians were accustomed, his people saw tangible progress every day. His people had a new capital and an obviously visionary leader.

  Meanwhile, pontificating from Corril, Tyr-Us (whose name must have been inspired by his constant tirades, Zod thought) called again and again for the Commissioner’s immediate resignation, demanding that he return power to the “rightful heirs of Krypton.” By that, presumably, Tyr-Us meant himself and other old-guard nobles, none of whom had done a thing to help.

  The construction at Xan City continued unabated.

  One day when a team of three young volunteers broke open a new set of deep and unexplored catacombs, they blundered into a huge nest of the topaz-shelled beetles. Within moments the three had been eaten alive, their screams broadcast by their short-range communications devices. By the time a rescue crew arrived, nothing remained but gnawed bones. The beetles attacked the rescuers as well, but the crew beat them back.

  Afterward, Zod assigned a handpicked team led by Nam-Ek (who delighted in the task) to comb through the ruins and eradicate the infestation. Hundreds of thousands of the scuttling insects were wiped out, and the rebuilding began again. Zod announced his sorrow over the three volunteers who had been killed in the “regrettable construction accident.”

  But the task was large, even overwhelming, and Zod knew that some of his less-dedicated followers might want to slink back to their comfortable cities. Before the people could even consider giving up in the face of the daunting task ahead, he realized he had to give them a compelling reason to stay here.