The Last Days of Krypton

by Kevin J. Anderson

  CHAPTER 65

  After warning his brother about Loth-Ur’s Hammer, Jor-El ignored all other tasks Commissioner Zod had set for him. In fact, he ignored the Commissioner entirely, instead spending the rest of the day engrossed in his calculations, estimating the mass of the approaching comet, analyzing spectra from its wispy tail to determine its chemical composition…trying to determine how much damage the impact would cause. He plunged into the problem wholeheartedly.

  At first Jor-El considered modifying his small solar-probe rockets to carry powerful explosives (as Zod had originally ordered him to do), but he swiftly realized that the comet was too massive to be deflected or destroyed by even a thousand such missiles. In fact, the explosions would likely fragment the icy mass into several equally deadly chunks that would also bombard Krypton.

  He needed to have an army of engineers and technicians to work on the problem—and he knew he could succeed, if only Zod would give him the manpower and equipment. It would be a project like erecting the giant telescope array on the plains or the Rao-beam installation in the mountains. He could do it.

  But he had to make Zod see the magnitude of the disaster. Jor-El simply couldn’t do this work alone. Though he doubted he could penetrate the man’s stubborn fixation, he needed to try. His face set with determination, he marched back to the government palace, prepared once again to debate with the Commissioner. He would demand to know why Zod—or at least his misguided fanatics—had attempted to abduct Alura and Charys, as Zor-El had claimed.

  The government palace seemed empty, though. A Sapphire Guard stood outside the door, rather than burly Nam-Ek. “I am here to see Commissioner Zod. He’ll want to meet with me right away,” Jor-El said, hoping it was true.

  The guard, whose face was mostly hidden beneath his round, polished helmet, obviously recognized the white-haired scientist. “The Commissioner is not here. He is dealing with the dissidents.”

  Jor-El suddenly recalled all the military plans Zod had apparently been making. Zor-El was right to be concerned. “He went to Borga City?”

  “No. He headed north to the crater of Kandor.”

  Jor-El left, disturbed. What would the Commissioner want there? Something from the old refugee encampment, perhaps?

  When he arrived back at their designated living quarters, he found Lara deeply alarmed. She had pushed aside her work on the writing table to expose the inset communication plate. She met him at the door and pulled him over to hear the message. “Listen to this! It just came from No-Ton.”

  The private-channel image sharpened into the distraught face of the other scientist, who spoke under his breath. “The Commissioner has seized the Rao beam. Tomorrow he plans to blast Borga City! He means to make an example of Shor-Em.”

  A rush of cold anger and fear coursed through Jor-El. “Isn’t the comet going to destroy us fast enough? I can’t believe Zod would do something so insane.”

  Lara looked intently at him. “I can. He sees only his own priorities. We have to warn Borga City, evacuate the people.”

  Jor-El tried to envision all the inhabitants of the giant floating city fleeing into the marshes. It would take days to get them out of there, days to convince them to move in the first place. But he did not allow doubts to paralyze him. He was Jor-El, and they would listen to him. He’d have to make them listen. He would save them…for another day.

  He contacted the city leader directly, demanding to speak to Shor-Em even though he was in the middle of a banquet. When the blond-haired leader frowned at him on the communication plate, Jor-El delivered his warning in a rush. Shor-Em blinked, then chuckled nervously. “Surely you are overreacting. That is not how we respond to political disagreements on Krypton.”

  “I am deadly serious. And you have very little time to get all your people to safety, as far away from the city as possible.”

  “That can’t be necessary. Allow me to—”

  “Do something now, Shor-Em. The survival of your populace requires that you act immediately!” Jor-El was shouting at the screen, and the other man flinched. “Laugh at me in the morning if I am wrong.”

  Even when the city leader muttered something that sounded like agreement, Jor-El was not convinced. And so he contacted other people in Borga City, any links he could find on the communication system. He repeatedly sounded the alarm, convincing as many men and women to listen as he could.

  Next, he contacted Zor-El and enlisted his aid as well. “Even with the comet coming toward us, this is happening now.” His brother knew more officials and administrators in Borga City, and soon the alarm spread from person to person. Lara hunkered over the communication plate, promising Jor-El that she would continue to access any person she could find in the distant metropolis.

  He kissed her quickly. “I have to go up there myself—face Zod and demand that he not do this. Only I can stop him.”

  But he feared that the Commissioner had stopped listening to him.

  He departed immediately on the fastest floater raft he could find and flew through the night. He wrestled with his own arguments, seething at what Zod was trying to do. By the time his vehicle arrived at the mountain outpost, dawn’s first light had begun to creep into the eastern sky. Very little time remained.

  Nam-Ek had swiveled the derrick into its new position, and following orders, the technicians had shifted the focal point, reinstalled the solar batteries, and aligned the prisms and lenses. Flushed and anxious, No-Ton was giving the equipment its final test while waiting for sunlight to brighten.

  Jor-El’s abrupt arrival startled Zod. The Commissioner’s smile looked like a curved blade. “I did not call for you.”

  “The situation called for me.”

  No-Ton stepped hesitantly closer to the other scientist. “I contacted him, Commissioner. I felt it might be necessary for you to…discuss your plans with him.”

  Zod scowled. “My plans are my own, and my mind is made up.”

  Jor-El trudged across the compound and stopped under the tall derrick structure. Cold wind blew his pale hair back from his face. Above him, the massive central crystal hung suspended at the nexus of where the solar beams would reflect and converge. “What are you doing with the Rao beam, Commissioner?”

  “Only what is necessary. The fabric of our society is unraveling because of a few ragged ends. Those traitors in Borga City want to throw our world into anarchy. They established their own sham Council strictly to set Kryptonians against each other. How can we afford that?” He sounded so reasonable. “You saw Shor-Em’s defiant message. Your own brother was duped by that inflammatory declaration and signed it.” Zod struggled to regain his composure, fighting back a murderous fury, and took a deep breath. “Because we owe Zor-El much, and because you love him, I am willing to withhold judgment on Argo City. For now. I will give you one chance to talk sense into your brother. But for the people of Borga City, I hold out no hope. No hope at all.”

  The mountain winds made the Rao-beam derrick creak, as if it were shuddering. Zod raised his head, as if inspired to continue his speech. “Our old, weak society produced far too much deadwood—people who exist but do not live, whose hearts beat but do not pound! They are not like you and me, Jor-El. They must be swept away before a new Krypton can be born from the ashes.” Staring into the blaze of the rising red sun, he spoke to Aethyr. “Power up the beam! We have waited long enough.”

  With icy confidence, she issued the necessary commands. The prisms in the beam apparatus began to hum with a harmonic tone, and the batteries hungrily gulped the raw energy.

  Growing desperate, Jor-El grabbed Zod by the arm. “Stop this, Commissioner! You can’t mean to destroy a whole city.”

  With an expression of distaste, Zod plucked the scientist’s fingers away from his sleeve. Deaf to further protestations, he gave Jor-El a withering frown. “Do not act innocent. You created the Rao beam and presented the plans to me. You knew full well that the technology could be used in this way.”

 
; “The Rao beam is a tool, not a weapon!”

  “Any tool can become a weapon.”

  “But—against our own people?”

  “Against our enemies, whoever and wherever they might be. And when this is over, maybe we can look at the approaching comet that has you so upset.” He seemed to be offering a small consolation prize.

  “This is not why I helped you. It goes against all that I believe—”

  Aethyr interrupted them smoothly. “The beam is ready, Zod. You may give the order.”

  “It is given.”

  “Stop!” Jor-El tried to push his way to the control shack, but two Sapphire Guards grabbed his arms. He thrashed against them. Even though he had sent out his most urgent warnings, even though he had begged Shor-Em to evacuate his people and Lara had continued to make calls, he knew for certain that there hadn’t been enough time. Many would have gotten away, believing the call of Krypton’s greatest scientist, but others would have tarried. He doubted Shor-Em had taken him seriously at all. “Commissioner, if you do this you are not the savior of Krypton, but its destroyer!”

  Zod gestured across the mountains and into the eastern marshes. “Fire!”

  Appalled, Jor-El yanked one arm free from the guards, struggled to drag himself toward the control shack, but the familiar whining hum sang up through the energy conduits of the derrick. At the last instant, he averted his eyes from the dazzling heat and from the horror.

  The Rao-beam projectors spewed forth a gout of pure red light. Zod watched with clear contentment on his face as the scarlet lance shot toward the lowlands on the horizon. The beam, powerful enough to cut through a planet’s crust, slammed into Borga City.

  From their vantage point in the distant mountains, Jor-El saw only a flash, but he knew exactly what was happening. The incinerating beam engulfed the huge balloons that supported the city’s interlocked platforms. The explosion would be instantaneous and terrific, igniting the giant cavities of volatile marsh gas that bubbled up from below. He hoped, prayed, that most of the people had already fled, racing to safety across the marshes.

  But he knew they weren’t all safe. He couldn’t bear to think of the burning bodies falling from balloon platforms, the fiery eruptions raging across the swamp. He knew it signified thousands of deaths at the very least, people whose only crime was to disagree with Zod’s leadership.

  Though the devastation was complete in moments, Zod let the beam continue to pound its target, minute after endless minute. Any evacuees who had remained in the area would be watching in horror at the horrific pummeling, the destruction of everything they had known.

  When he was finally satisfied, Zod told No-Ton to shut down the apparatus.

  Moving ponderously, as if weary beyond description, the other scientist shifted the prisms away from the focal point. The air still thrummed with vibrant energy. Leftover ripples of heat dissipated from the column of ionized air along the beam path.

  “We have annihilated one nest of traitors,” Zod said. “Let us hope this ends the nonsense, once and for all.”

  CHAPTER 66

  While the foolish dissidents in other population centers were shocked and sickened by the obliteration of Borga City, Zod used the opportunity to strengthen his position. Even before his small victorious group paraded back into Kryptonopolis, he had made his preparations.

  Aethyr raced ahead to distribute glorious propaganda so that his followers would learn of the event in exactly the way he wished. Towering information screens portrayed the retaliatory strike as reasonable and necessary. Most of the citizens of Kryptonopolis would already accept whatever Zod told them; anyone who expressed concern or seemed overly distressed—particularly if the person had connections to Borga City—was efficiently removed from the crowds and quietly reassigned far from the others.

  Zod returned to his capital, bearded chin held high, eyes bright with victory. Nam-Ek strode boldly beside his master, his muscles bunched, his hands clenched into fists the size of large rocks.

  No-Ton and the other technicians had also been recalled from the isolated mountain outpost; Zod didn’t want any of them near the Rao-beam generator, at least until the uproar had died down.

  Riding among them all, watched carefully by the guards, Jor-El looked broken and deflated, as if deeply ashamed that his invention had been used in such a manner. The pale-haired scientist kept his gaze turned away, but the Commissioner noticed an occasional flash of anger in his eye. Maybe Jor-El wasn’t as much under control as Zod had hoped. He wondered if the defeated mood might only be an act. What if Jor-El decided to turn his considerable talents against Zod?

  On the journey back, Jor-El had defiantly revealed that he’d sent a warning to Borga City, that he’d informed Shor-Em of the impending destruction. At first Zod had been outraged by the defiance, but then he grudgingly realized that survivors—witnesses—would only tell the tale and emphasize the lengths to which the Commissioner would go. No one could doubt his seriousness now. The many refugees would spread out, seeking food and shelter, and Zod was not inclined to help them. They still had to prove they had learned their lesson.

  Fortunately, according to initial reports, Shor-Em and his haughty sham Council had insisted on staying inside the city. They had been annihilated along with everyone else who believed in them. A perfect solution. This had indeed been a successful undertaking, and he would make certain everyone knew it.

  As the small band of troops passed between the crystal towers and into the Square of Hope, Zod raised his hands and his voice. “Borga City and its corrupt and dangerous leaders brought this fate upon themselves. It was a painful decision for me, but now we must put an end to this debilitating struggle, this civil disagreement. There are some survivors, innocents who evacuated in time, and they are dispersed to other cities. Let us hope they have accepted the truth now. Krypton is at last safe from traitors to our way of life.”

  The members of the Ring of Strength and their deputies lined the streets of the capital. They automatically responded with shouts and cheers. Koll-Em was the loudest of them all, barely able to contain his vindictive joy that his older brother had just been vaporized.

  Zod gave a preoccupied nod, as if he were talking only to himself. “In seven days I will hold a vital summit in Kryptonopolis. I command that all city leaders present themselves to me. Anyone who does not attend will be seen as an enemy of Krypton.” He marched forward with his loyal followers, sweeping into the government palace with Aethyr and Nam-Ek beside him.

  Jor-El pointedly remained outside.

  Lara was physically sick after hearing of the destruction of Borga City. She clutched her rounded stomach. “All those people! Even if two-thirds of them escaped in time…”

  Jor-El rocked her in his arms. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, but I certainly don’t believe him. He will not focus on any problem other than how to achieve his own ambitions.” He felt the crushing weight on his conscience of having created a tool that killed an entire city. “Zor-El was right. For too long, I tried to convince myself that the Commissioner was the lesser of two evils, that his actions would ultimately benefit Krypton. But after this…after his minions attacked our mother and Alura…” He raised his head. “Now I’ve got to do something about it. I can’t hesitate. The responsibility is mine.”

  Lara reacted with alarm. “Zod will be watching you more closely than ever.”

  He shook his head. “Speed is my best ally. If I slip away tonight while the Commissioner is still reveling in his victory, I can blindside him. He withdrew everyone from the Rao-beam installation. Now is my chance.” Jor-El held her by the shoulders, feeling steel inside. “What kind of world will our baby be born into if I let Zod wipe out entire cities on a whim? Whatever happens to me, at least my child can be proud.”

  “Then I’m going with you, whatever it is you intend to do.”

  “You can’t, Lara.”

  Her eyes narrowed indignantly. “Just because I’m pregnant do
esn’t mean I’m incapable. I won’t let you leave me out in the cold.”

  He smiled with great love for her. “That’s not why I want you to stay. I need you here to cover for me. Give me an alibi if Zod suspects anything.”

  “Oh, he will suspect—but I’ll find ways to deflect him.”

  “Lock down our quarters. If anyone asks, tell them I cannot be disturbed, that I’m focused on my cometary calculations. Zod should believe that.” He kissed her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Hold off any questions until then.”

  In the darkest, quietest hour of the night, Jor-El crept through a window in their bedroom and furtively made his way out of Kryptonopolis. He dodged the overconfident Sapphire Guards patrolling the streets. After Zod’s recent show of strength, most of the people were cowed and cooperative. But not him.

  When he reached the Rao-beam facility high in the mountains, the ever-present smoke and soot in the air made him think of the funeral pyres of burned innocents. He shuddered. This Rao beam had been constructed to save Krypton from the pressure buildup in the core, not to annihilate entire civilian populations. Zod had smeared Jor-El with their blood, and he felt violated.

  Though the rig’s solar-generating crystals were dim and the focusing mirrors had been removed, enough charge remained in the central battery for Jor-El to do his work. In his hubris, Commissioner Zod had left the facility empty during his “celebration” in Kryptonopolis, but soon he would surely send a contingent of soldiers to guard the equipment. Jor-El had to act swiftly.

  Working alone in the dimness, he knelt to remove the access panel from the central generator. He shifted internal crystals, rewired control circuits, and built a feedback loop. Sparks began to swirl inside the main dangling crystal. Then he climbed up the high derrick, hand over hand on the cold metal bars, to the heart of the Rao-beam projector. After using a prybar to twist the focusing rods into near-impossible angles, Jor-El scrambled back down. The metal handholds were already growing hot as the beam projector built up to an overload.