The Last Days of Krypton

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Zod summoned all of his workers to the old Execution Square. The bright red sun presaged a sweltering day, but in the coolness of a fresh dawn the possibilities seemed boundless. Zod touched a voice-amplifier patch at his throat. “When faced with the greatest crisis in our planet’s history, you came to me because you know that I am the future. I promised to protect Krypton against all enemies. I will show you why we need Xan City and why you can depend on me and no other to defend us.”

  He stepped onto the weathered block that had been the base of the ancient Jax-Ur statue. His words resounded like the booming pronouncement of a god, and he tried to make eye contact with as many people as possible. “I have the power to keep Krypton safe.”

  At his command, Sapphire Guards pushed the crowds back from the circular designs barely visible on the flagstones. With a hum and a shudder, the paved surface cracked along precise lines, and the people stepped away in trepidation. With ominous slowness, the half-circle silo covers scraped aside to reveal the ancient weapon pits.

  Zod drew in a rich, deep breath, as if inhaling the awe of the spectators. Lights glowed from within the pits, illuminating the polished metal skins of the tapered missiles. Like the golden arrows of an angry deity, the fifteen nova javelins slowly climbed to the surface, simultaneously threatening and awe-inspiring. Three of the eighteen platforms were empty; these had held the weapons that had destroyed Koron.

  Zod did not say anything for a long moment. He didn’t have to. Everyone here knew that no other leader could promise as much. He would dispatch more fanatical supporters to all cities with the proof. “Let Shor-Em and his cronies complain. I am a man of action. And I vow to use these nova javelins in order to defend my vision—our vision,” he quickly corrected, “of Krypton.”

  The fifteen weapons gleamed in the ruddy sunshine, their narrow ellipsoidal warheads pointing toward the sky, waiting for a target.

  CHAPTER 46

  The city grew with remarkable speed. With so many political bridges to be built, the ambitious younger nobles of the Ring of Strength had gone to speak forcefully to other citizens across the continent, touting Zod’s cause, emphasizing his mighty stockpile of nova javelins that could protect Krypton.

  Inside the half-completed government palace, amid the clamor of carpenters and stonemasons, Zod summoned Jor-El and Lara. Some of the carved pillars along the interior walls were ancient and weathered; the new ones, careful imitations of the same design, looked out of place. Patches of stone resin sealed parts of the wall that had fallen down, covering up the long-faded frescoes that depicted Jax-Ur’s triumphs.

  The main roof had partially collapsed, and colorful fabric awnings covered the roof opening, peaked like a nomad’s tent so the infrequent rains would run off. Gazing upward, Jor-El wondered if this was a conscious symbolism to remind visitors of how far they had already come from the temporary camp at the Kandor crater.

  In the middle of the office, Zod had installed what looked like a weathered, lumpy boulder. Upon closer inspection, Jor-El could barely make out that it was the figure of a bowing man…bending his knee to someone? He wondered why the Commissioner had brought it here.

  The Commissioner began by offering Jor-El provocative words. “I’ve decided that it is time your father received the gratitude and respect he always deserved. Do something for him, for me, and for all of Krypton. Show everyone what a true genius Yar-El was.”

  Jor-El had not expected this. “My father was a great man, but when he succumbed to the Forgetting Disease, many people called him mad. They turned their backs on him.”

  “And what I am offering will change all that,” Zod said.

  Lara was more cautious about the seemingly innocent offer. “My husband and I can’t agree without knowing what you’re asking.”

  Zod continued in a magnanimous voice. “Yar-El changed Kryptonian architecture forever. With his fantastic crystal-growth process, he created hexagonal columns of utmost purity and material strength. He built some of the most beloved landmarks of old Kandor. Now I want you to use your father’s techniques to grow our new city’s skyline as rapidly as possible.” He looked wistfully down at his blueprints. “Once this city is finished and rivals even lost Kandor, Shor-Em and those other annoying voices will be silenced. We need to show them. Show them all.”

  Jor-El went to the broad window in the Commissioner’s office and looked out at the well-preserved ruins, the partially rebuilt towers all around the square. He tried to envision how his father’s architecture would fit in, immense spikes of transparent crystal, green and white and amber. “It would have to be done properly and with great care.”

  Zod clasped his hands together. “I knew you would share my vision. It will be good for the heart and soul of Krypton. This city can never be the same as Kandor, but it can serve as a new Kandor.”

  Jor-El began to run the specifics through his mind, performing calculations and estimates. “It is a long, slow process to grow crystals with proper stability, to anchor their structures and guide each facet along perfect intersection points. In the near term, it may be faster for you to erect traditional buildings using standard methods, while I continue this project in parallel. Eventually, this city will be as awe-inspiring as you intend.”

  “No, no! It must be swift and impressive. During my days at the Commission, I read your father’s original archived records. He set forth an alternative technique, an accelerated growth process that uses several potent catalysts. Drawing upon the power of Rao, gigantic towers and immense spires can be grown within days. Is that not true?”

  Jor-El shook his head. “That was a much inferior process, Commissioner, and my father discarded it. What it gained in speed, it lost in stability. Don’t you want your capital to stand for centuries, even millennia? Longer even than the original Xan City? Such things can’t be rushed. If we use the flawed catalyst technique, the buildings may last for no more than a generation or two.”

  Zod’s brow furrowed. “Jor-El, if Krypton survives the next generation or two, then we will have all the time in the world. Once we get past this crisis, I promise to give you the full freedom to make any improvements you wish.” He joined Jor-El and Lara at the window, gazing out at the bustle of construction. “Appearances are just as important as reality. No Kryptonian can doubt what Zod has done for them. I need to present my city as a new capital, a fait accompli—and soon.”

  Jor-El quickly looked at him. “Your city?”

  “Krypton’s city. Sometimes I grow a bit too passionate.” He offered them an intense, unsettling smile. “Grow me these crystal buildings to quiet any naysayers, and in return I will name the tallest, most ornate spire after Yar-El.”

  “My father would not have wanted any accolades,” Jor-El said. “Nor did he need them, especially not with buildings that are sure to be flawed.”

  Zod’s expression darkened. “I insist.”

  Jor-El looked at Lara, who understood his need, and she nodded reluctantly. He said, “I will do this task in memory of my father, so long as we have time to make it right once we pass this current crisis.” He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to raise the much more substantial issue of the data Zor-El had just sent him. “And there are other matters we need to discuss. When this is finished, I have certain priorities you must address.”

  The Commissioner sounded dismissive, as if a tit-for-tat arrangement was to be expected. “Perfect, my friend. I am forever in your debt.”

  CHAPTER 47

  Lara loved watching the wheels turn in Jor-El’s mind as he pondered a new problem to solve. He had decided that he would harvest select seed crystals from the smaller structures on his estate and also from the magnificent palace in the arctic. Zod gave him the loan of a flying craft and sent him away to gather what he needed, telling him to hurry.

  While Lara remained behind, she finally took the time to talk more with Aethyr. Inside one of Xan City’s restored ancient buildings, the other woman’s private quar
ters were far more spacious than Lara had expected. “I never imagined anything so ostentatious for you, Aethyr. Remember when you killed and roasted a snake once just because you didn’t think we had enough camp rations to last us?”

  “I called it the serpent of truth,” she said with a smile.

  “It certainly tasted foul.” Lara screwed up her face at the remembered bad experience.

  “You were the only other one who tried it. I’ve always respected you for that. It shows strength of character.”

  With a giggle that made her feel ten years younger, Lara said, “Do you remember Lyla Lerrol? She was so horrified that we had tasted the meat of a serpent that she wouldn’t sleep anywhere close to us. Afraid we’d grow scales in the middle of the night!” Both of them laughed at the memory.

  Aethyr suddenly became serious. “Commissioner Zod knows how brilliant your husband is, but you can help us here, too. I’ve personally told him about you, Lara. You trained to be an artist—didn’t you work with your parents?”

  “I met Jor-El during a large-scale project at his estate.” Lara’s expression fell. So many things reminded her at unexpected times. “My parents were lost with Kandor.”

  Aethyr didn’t look at all troubled. “My parents were lost, too, but they were the worst of the old Krypton. We have to forget all that now and move on.” She poured them each a glass of ruby-red wine from Zod’s personal stockpile, though Lara declined. She had not yet told anyone about her pregnancy. “You were never meant to be a mere assistant to a scientist. You have intelligence and skills all your own. In these times, Commissioner Zod asks all of us to give more than we’ve ever given before—to work harder, to contribute our best.”

  Lara was skeptical. “But what is it you need from me? Specifically? I am a historian as well as an artist. But everything I previously did seems very small now, in relation to Krypton’s state of emergency.” She considered revealing the personal journal she had kept, offering it as an official history of these troubled times, but an inner sense kept her from saying anything.

  Aethyr casually took a gulp of her wine. “The loss of Kandor is the most devastating thing to happen to our planet since the destruction of the third moon. It has global repercussions for our economy, our government, trade, transportation, the whole balance of power. As the cornerstone of his rule, Zod has shown that he’s the only man who can defend us against another such attack, but that is not enough for him. He sees this tragedy as a second chance for us. We Kryptonians can rise from the ashes and put ourselves on a new path.”

  Lara saw the other woman’s fervor and recognized that she was sincere. “I still don’t understand what you think I can do—”

  Aethyr indicated the plain white walls of her chambers. It was obvious where patches of stone resin had been applied. She had hung dyed fabrics and mist-scarves from hooks pounded into the wall, but all the new buildings looked unfinished, unadorned—much too plain to rival the grandeur of Kandor.

  “As Zod’s personal artist, your work for us will be more vital than anything your parents ever completed. Even though Ora and Lor-Van are gone, let us show everyone that the glory of Krypton remains un diminished. Lara, we want you to take charge of the design of our new capital. Make it beautiful. No—more than that—make it awe-inspiring.”

  CHAPTER 48

  On the night before Jor-El was to return, Commissioner Zod summoned his people to the former Execution Square, which he had renamed the Square of Hope. It was time to give his faithful followers another cause for celebration.

  “Today we christen Krypton’s new capital. Xan City is a mark of the past, a reminder of lost glory. Our new city, though built on the rubble of a once-powerful empire, must stand for our whole planet, our entire people.” He looked around, scanning the faces. “Therefore, I name it…Kryptonopolis.”

  With encouragement from the Ring members, as well as the diligent Sapphire Guards, the audience started to cheer. The Commissioner smiled at them all, reveling in their acceptance.

  A voice shouted out from the crowd. “Why not name it Zod City, while you’re at it? You’ve usurped everything else.”

  The crowd drew a quick gasp, turning to see who had spoken. An obviously agitated man stepped forward, long yellow hair streaming from both sides of his bald pink scalp. A long walrus mustache dangled down on either side of his mouth, giving him an absurd appearance. His robes bore a bold X-shaped crest denoting his proud noble family. Zod recognized him.

  With a quiet hand signal, the Commissioner held back an angry Nam-Ek; the Sapphire Guards remained alert, ready to act. Zod spoke brightly, feigning welcome. “Gil-Ex, you have finally decided to leave your soft cushions and delicate banquet barges in Orvai! We can always use more help, even from one of the pampered older nobles. Join us at our real work. We can train you to do something practical for a change.” Some members of the audience chuckled. “I only wish Shor-Em and Tyr-Us would also come to help, rather than complaining from their distant manor houses.”

  The mustached man scowled, and his pink scalp turned red. “I didn’t come to join your efforts, Zod. I came to talk sense into the rest of these people.” He looked around. “I want them to see what you’re doing to our proud heritage. They don’t want to live under a dictatorship!”

  Listening to the undertone of murmurs from the crowd, Zod knew the people were on his side. He had trained them well, demonstrated his capabilities. And more and more joined him every day, though he knew that an annoying resistance kept growing like noxious weeds in towns and settlements where he didn’t have sufficient control. Yet.

  “Gil-Ex, these people can see quite well what I’ve been doing. That’s why they are helping me. Open your eyes and look at what we’ve accomplished already! We work together as a team to make Krypton strong instead of frightened and weak. The old Council kept us defenseless. None of these good people wants that again, no matter what ineffective form of government you hope they will accept.”

  Gil-Ex sniffed. “True Kryptonians can see through your lies, Zod. They remember what is right and true about our civilization, and they won’t let it be lost.” He turned to the rest of the crowd, raising one knobby fist. “All of you, join me! You must reject the tyranny of Zod and his unjust seizure of power.”

  Koll-Em called out with withering scorn, “We’re quite familiar with what the likes of you considered ‘right and true about our civilization.’ No thank you!”

  From his assigned position in the crowd, Da-Es shouted out. “We know what dreams Commissioner Zod has for us. We prefer to follow dreams rather than delusions.”

  “Have you actually been to the crater of Kandor, Gil-Ex?” bellowed muscular Mon-Ra from another part of the crowd. “Have you witnessed firsthand how much destruction our outside enemies can bring against us? Have you bothered?”

  Gil-Ex sidestepped the question. “We all know what happened there. I have no need to see for myself. I doubt my heart could bear it—”

  “What’s the matter? Afraid to get your hands dirty?” jeered Koll-Em. “You complain about Zod, but what have you done to protect us?” called Ran-Ar, another Ring member.

  The Ring of Strength continued to rile up the audience, and the crowd’s mood turned ugly. It took Gil-Ex several moments to realize that he had chosen the wrong venue for his speech. Zod allowed the anger to simmer until it reached the point where he thought he might lose control. He didn’t want them to turn into a mob against this one man, because such extreme reactions might provide the other dissidents with ammunition against him. Worst of all, it could make Gil-Ex into a martyr.

  “Please, calm yourselves! This place is the Square of Hope. Here we cherish all that was best about Krypton—including the right to free speech, even when a person states something so patently absurd. Gil-Ex, these people do not support your opinion. I am disheartened by your stubborn refusal to recognize my good intentions. I cannot understand what I’ve done that causes you to object so vehemently, but I will hear y
ou out. Maybe we can come to a meeting of minds.” He extended his hand, sounding so cordial. “Come, we will talk in my tent.”

  Gil-Ex saw that he had no choice but to agree.

  The next day, after Gil-Ex was gone—though no one had seen him leave—Zod issued a happy pronouncement. “The two of us spoke far into the night, and Gil-Ex finally realized his misunderstanding. Since he had isolated himself from the true effects of our tragedy, he was sadly ignorant of our planet’s need. He had listened to lies and distortions from power-hungry men trying to cast doubt on our great work.” Zod feigned a smile. Passion and sincerity oozed from him with every word. “When he realized that his own well-intentioned comments may have hindered the recovery of Krypton, Gil-Ex was in tears.”

  Zod’s listeners absorbed this dramatic and unsettling turnabout. They had followed the Commissioner to an empty, ruined city and had sworn their allegiance to him and his grand plans for Krypton. Because they themselves were wholeheartedly convinced, it wasn’t unreasonable to believe that Gil-Ex had changed his mind, too. Some workers accepted the explanation with more caution than others did, but all of them gave Zod the benefit of the doubt.

  The Commissioner put on his most sincere expression. “I had hoped Gil-Ex would become my ally, but I accept his decision to withdraw from public life. He wants the rest of us to continue without the shadow of his previous accusations.” He bowed his head, barely able to hide his satisfied smile.

  Over the next few days, other outspoken dissidents disappeared from isolated towns and villages, each leaving behind a heartfelt note of explanation. Some admitted shame, and many urged the people of Krypton to follow Zod.