The Last Days of Krypton (19 page)

Even as the people of
Argo City pulled together to recover from their own disaster, the loss of Kandor struck Zor-El with great dread. “Our world is in danger,” he told Alura. They stood together in his observation tower, looking out at the deceptively calm sea. “Volcanic eruptions, quakes, giant waves, the buildup in the core—and now an alien attack. There’s got to be something more I can do.”

Alura was levelheaded and matter-of-fact. “Commissioner Zod is directing the Kandor volunteers and refugees well enough. You need to keep doing the same thing here. Argo City is your city. Rally and reassure them.”

Zor-El wished he could send more assistance up to Kandor to help his brother, but he was barely able to cope with his own disaster. All along the coast, the massive rebuilding efforts continued. Since the tsunami had smashed the piers and battered the seawall, the people of Argo City had labored with remarkable solidarity. Rescue teams scouring the long shoreline had found only a few survivors among the hundreds of dead. Funerals were held day after day; Zor-El had personally spoken at forty of the ser vices. During their mourning, however, the citizens also grew more determined.

Medical centers were overflowing; several of the city’s power generators and water-purification plants remained damaged. A few main piers were repaired first so that boats could be launched again, and fishermen worked overtime to bring in aquatic harvests. When they produced more than enough for their own needs, they rushed extra supplies to the refugees at the crater of Kandor. It was the only aid they could offer.

Although Zor-El had been too overwhelmed to attend his brother’s recent wedding, at least he knew Jor-El was married, no longer facing a trial, and assisting Commissioner Zod—all of which was comforting news. Krypton couldn’t ask for a greater help.

In the meantime, construction crews reinforced and raised Argo City’s seawall, after which Zor-El took the extra step of augmenting it with a greatly expanded protective field, based on the one that he had designed for his diamondfish probes. Unless something fundamental was done to relieve the pressure in the planet’s core, though, more quakes would strike, further tsunamis would batter the coast, and restless volcanoes would continue to erupt.

Amid all the turmoil, Zor-El had finally dispatched a new survey team to the southern continent. Soon he would have all the evidence he needed…but instead of a useless, stagnant central government, Krypton had no government at all. With Kandor gone and Argo City brought to its knees, Zor-El didn’t know how anyone could manage a project of such magnitude.

More swiftly than anyone could have expected, however, Commissioner Zod had jumped into the power vacuum. Zor-El wondered if the other man would acknowledge the far greater problem. “Maybe now I can speak to someone who will see reason.”

“Do you think Zod has that vision?” Alura asked. “Will he hear you?”

His dark eyebrows drew together skeptically. “I don’t know about Zod. He is intelligent and ambitious, but he’s proved an impediment to progress so many times in the past.”

“Many things have changed…”

“Yes. Let’s hope that his mind has changed.”

He and Alura left the villa and walked together through the bustling streets, along the burbling canals, crossing one ornate pedestrian bridge after another. The center of Argo City had recovered quickly, but still the sounds of construction reverberated everywhere. They passed homes bedecked with beautiful flower vines, multicolored herbs, blossoming ferns, and spore trees. Butterflies and pollinating bees descended in droves, adding a pleasant background hum to the air. For today, at least, nature seemed oblivious to impending geological disasters and alien attacks.

Thin streams cascaded off the sides of buildings, trickling down in small waterfalls to strike fountain basins. Weary people came out to stand on their colonnaded balconies, took seats on stone benches, or leaned up against hedges. Even after the disaster, children still found reasons to play in the streets, resiliently discovering joy in life.

Since Kandor could not possibly be rebuilt, Zor-El considered suggesting that Argo City become Krypton’s new capital, at least in the interim. Though he had no interest in serving as planetary leader, he and the heads of other population centers might provide the basis of a new council. A competent council. Zor-El began to doubt, however, that Commissioner Zod had any inclination to hand over the reins of power. That concerned him.

Instead of delivering ponderous speeches to swelling audiences, Zor-El simply walked through squares and gathering points, talking personally to the people, who listened and helped to spread his words.

“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.

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.”

“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.