The Last Days of Krypton (23 page)

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.

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.

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.”

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 quarters 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.”