The Last Days of Krypton (18 page)

All of Krypton reeled from
the sudden loss of the capital city. And, exactly as Commissioner Zod expected, the frightened people looked to him for guidance.

Immediately taking charge, he declared a planetary state of emergency, dispatched messages to all major population centers, and established his command post just outside the deep, steaming crater. Thousands of displaced refugees remained in the area, those whose homes were located outside the perimeter of destruction, as well as hundreds of Kandor citizens who had simply been away on that fateful night and had returned to find the city gone.

Unlike the tsunami at Argo City, the clean, abrupt loss of Kandor created none of the usual aftereffects of a natural disaster: few injured, no rescue efforts, no massive recovery operations. The capital city was simply gone. All that remained was a huge, deep scar on the Kryptonian psyche, as well as a blot on the landscape.

As the news spread, volunteers and spectators rushed in from Borga City, Orvai, Ilonia, Corril, and many smaller settlements. Some of them brought emergency supplies, tents, food, water, and construction materials. Soon the second wave came, stricken pilgrims who traveled to the crater just to stare in shock and mourn the loss of their beloved capital. Everyone assumed that the population of Kandor was dead, and Zod did not disabuse them of the idea.

The Commissioner walked among the people here, showing strength and perhaps a little compassion. He spoke briefly with one man who had been late returning from a visit to the mountains; his wife and three daughters had gone ahead to Kandor and were now gone, leaving him all alone. An aspiring sculptor came by himself all the way from the lake district; he fell to his knees at the crater’s edge and wept for hours, though he had never previously been to Kandor.

Nam-Ek often stood alone at the lip of the crater, staring down into the pit, clenching and unclenching his fists. The big man no doubt still wondered if he could have fought the alien android and reversed the disaster. Zod quietly consoled him. The two stood apart from all the shell-shocked visitors and eager workers who swarmed around the empty site with little to do, not knowing where to begin work of such magnitude.

“In the end I believe Krypton will be stronger, Nam-Ek. Not only did the alien take our city, he also took away the useless Council. The more I think about it, the more it seems like an acceptable trade-off. With their obstructionist ways and their narrow vision, those eleven caused as much harm as any outside invasion. And I have a chance to make it right. Now, more than at any other time in centuries, Krypton needs a man who can be a true, efficient leader. A man like me.”

As he looked around himself at the overwhelming crowds of stricken but resolute survivors and volunteers, Zod formulated his plans to utilize their angry determination. If he could cement them into a unified fighting and working force, these people would become his most dedicated followers. He had to act swiftly.

Zod’s initial challenge was to establish a permanent settlement near the crater’s perimeter. For the moment his goal was a clean and organized camp. The administrative and support realities of such a large group would swiftly make living conditions miserable…and if people were miserable, they could easily turn against him. As a precaution, he also recruited the remaining Sapphire Guards, who had lived outside the city in training barracks.

Without delay, he laid out the settlement on a grid and put together teams to erect large tents and ser viceable shelters. They drilled for water, installed pumps, erected sanitation facilities. The food supplies brought by emergency workers were gathered into large community depots. Meals were prepared and served in a long communal mess hall.

Tireless in his inspiration, he organized the ever-growing crowds into work groups. So long as he kept the refugees busy and focused on the obvious threat of outside enemies, no one would have time to question his assumption of total authority. From his experience with the other lackluster city leaders on Krypton, he knew it would be more than a month before anyone else even thought to suggest a plan, and by then it would be too late.

At noon on the third day, after he had carefully practiced his speech, Zod stood at the center of the camp on a quickly erected stage. In a clear, commanding voice he issued his statement, and the shaken people looked up at him, comforted that someone had shouldered this heavy responsibility. The Commissioner doubted anyone else on Krypton would rush to volunteer for the job.

“Because we no longer have the Council to guide us, it falls upon me to keep our world safe. This unspeakable attack shows that we must change our passive and stagnant ways. We were isolated for so many centuries, foolishly believing that hostile outsiders would leave this planet in peace. But now they have found us!” He pointed vehemently toward the yawning crater, where wisps of yellowish-gray smoke continued to curl into the air.

Zod had already told a somewhat altered version of what he’d witnessed, and rumors continued to embellish the horrors of that night. He had changed the android’s name to something more sinister than “Brain Interactive Construct.”
Brainiac.
He had painted the android’s story in the worst possible light, removing any hint of sympathy, making the green-skinned android the embodiment of everything unspeakable and frightening. He had not mentioned the possibility that the miniaturized inhabitants might actually still be alive.

“What if Brainiac returns for Borga City next?” Zod swept his gaze around, listening to the cries of dismay. “Or Orvai? Or Corril? Argo City is already reeling from the damage done by the tidal wave—how could they possibly defend themselves? How could any of us?” Zod had no intention of calming the already terrified people. Fear was a very efficient tool. “How many outside enemies are even now plotting against Krypton?”

His face was grim, yet full of an angry confidence. “Outsiders may believe that we are an easy target, that we have forgotten how to defend ourselves and how to fight—but they are sorely mistaken! We can do this
if you will follow me.
” He was not at all surprised when the crowd gave a rousing cheer. What else would they do?

After his speech, Zod returned to his command tent during the heat of the afternoon. A dark-haired woman sauntered up to him, put one hand on her hip, and raised her pointed chin. “Those were fine words, Commissioner. Maybe you are better than the other nobles and the silly Council members after all.”

He was both surprised and pleased to see her. “Aethyr, you are safe!”

“That’s one advantage to living in isolation and touring ancient ruins.”

He let out a dry laugh. She had struck him as a definite survivor.

“Yes, you did unfairly dismiss me as a representative of the establishment you despised.”

“I may have been too quick to make that assumption. I hated the old government for being ineffectual. To me, anyone who worked in that system had a vested interest in the status quo.”

“Then you misjudged me.”

“I can see that now.”

He tried to gesture her inside his tent, but she remained where she was. He said, “If you have come to accept my offer of a special dinner, your timing is awkward. We may have to settle for food in the mess hall.” Zod still found her beautiful, her haughty attitude intriguing. Remembering how fearlessly she had scorned the stuffy expectations of Kryptonian society, he knew Aethyr was exactly the sort of person he needed at his side now.

She turned slowly, looking at the camp, at the organized people already getting back to work, making progress. “You have accomplished quite a lot in only a few days and under the most extreme circumstances, Commissioner. The old Council would have taken this long just to decide which robes to wear while inspecting the disaster. Has any other city leader done more than wail and gnash his teeth?”

Zod considered, trying to hide his smile. “I doubt it.”

“You’ll disappoint me greatly if the old style of government crystallizes around you again.” Her voice had a warning tone.

He wondered what she was getting at, found himself reluctant to play her game. “Who says I will allow such a thing to happen? The Council is gone.”

She laughed now and gently touched his arm. “I was hoping you would say that. In fact, I can help you.” Leaning close, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I have an offer you can’t afford to decline.”

“Intriguing. What do you suggest?”

“I’ve come from the ruins of Xan City. I have walked through the ancient capital of the warlord Jax-Ur.”

“And how could some old ruins possibly interest me? Especially now?”

“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.”

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.