The Last Days of Krypton (26 page)

While Jor-El was gone for
weeks setting up the huge Rao-beam project, Lara remained in Kryptonopolis to paint breathtaking new frescoes and assemble mosaics. Commissioner Zod expressed great support for her work. He said the glorious art helped to anchor his capital city’s place in cultural history.

Aethyr’s enthusiasm for Zod’s “new Krypton” seemed boundless, though Lara wasn’t sure exactly what role her friend played in the government. The other woman often slipped away unexpectedly; taking one or two Ring members and some Sapphire Guards, she would disappear for days and come back at odd hours. Whenever Lara asked about it, Aethyr remained evasive. “Sometimes a new government doesn’t run as smoothly as it should.”

Meanwhile, Lara intently studied the numerous buildings being erected or repaired, then sketched out her artistic plans for them. She transformed the blocky walls from plain, ser viceable structures into truly majestic monuments that would surpass anything Jax-Ur had created long ago.

The five immense new crystalline towers had already altered Kryptonopolis, transforming the construction site into a dramatic work of architectural art. On Lookout Hill the tallest monolith gleamed in the red sunlight. Despite Jor-El’s insistence that the gesture was not necessary, Zod had proudly named that structure the Tower of Yar-El.

Lara’s main project was to embellish a structure designated as the new treasury building. She sent detailed plans to armies of her helpful apprentices, then went to inspect the numerous decoration projects under way across the city. In Kryptonopolis, Lara supervised five times as many workers as her parents had ever overseen. All this was entirely new to her, but she was sure Ora and Lor-Van would have been pleased.

She stopped to admire an intricate and colorful mosaic her crew was installing on the new Academy headquarters, to be named after Cor-Zod. The mosaic’s pattern of carefully arranged pieces was still not obvious at a glance, although she had a clear picture of it in her mind.

“Magnificent.” Zod had come up behind her, accompanied by Aethyr. “But Krypton has a new request to make of you, an even more difficult task.” The Commissioner’s resonant voice sounded personable.

Not sure what to say, Lara ran her gaze over all the workers engaged in assembling the mosaic. “I don’t have time for anything else, Commissioner. With Jor-El gone, I am already devoting every waking hour to this work.”

“I would expect nothing less from the wife of Jor-El.” Zod stepped close, and his presence fell over Lara like the shadow from a thundercloud. “You’ve already drawn your designs, and we have plenty of competent supervisors to ensure that the work continues without pause. However, Aethyr suggested you as the perfect person for an extremely important project, one with even more enduring relevance than any of these works of art.”

“A different sort of art,” Aethyr added.

Before Zod could explain further, one of the mosaic workers stumbled and knocked over his basket full of cut tiles from the high scaffolding. He yelled a warning to the people below as hundreds of colorful chips tumbled through the air. Sparkling like a shattered rainbow, they pattered on the flagstones. The other workers groaned, not because anyone had been hurt, but because gathering up all the pieces would be so tedious.

The Commissioner turned away, clearly not wanting his devoted followers to see his stormy expression of contempt and disappointment, but Lara noticed. It took him only a fraction of a second to compose a fresh smile for her. “Aethyr tells me you have a background in history, and that your instructors at the Academy commended your writing talent. Most important, you grasp the context of the great events around us.”

The compliment made Lara oddly uncomfortable. She did not tell him of the detailed personal journal she had already been surreptitiously keeping. “Yes, history and writing are among my interests.”

Aethyr ignored the chaos behind them. “Lara, it is important to make sure that history remembers Zod properly. These are turbulent times, and when emotions run high, memory isn’t always accurate.”

The Commissioner nodded. “You are the perfect person to be my official biographer and the chronicler of my new reign, to set down the official version of events and determine how history remembers me—remembers all of us.”

Lara was not so easily recruited. “You want me to write propaganda for you?”

“Not propaganda—the truth.”

Aethyr interjected, “There is no such thing as completely objective truth, Lara. Everything the Commissioner does can be seen from varying perspectives. Though many of the complainers have now withdrawn their objections, some people like Shor-Em still argue with his decisions out of petty jealousy and a petulant resistance to change. You remember how much Jor-El has fought against that kind of backward thinking. We are in this together.”

Lara crossed her arms over her chest, still not convinced. “I also remember, Commissioner, that
you
were the one who censored most of my husband’s inventions. If not for you, Jor-El’s discoveries could have benefited Krypton for many years. But your Commission held him back.”

“That was not my choice, Lara. I followed the Council’s guidance, and for that I admit my error. Have I not proved myself since then? Look at what I am allowing Jor-El and his brother to do right now. Drilling to Krypton’s core! A project the old Council would never have approved, no matter how much data they reviewed.” He looked at her intently. “Won’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”

Skilled artisans scurried around the base of the scaffolding like hive insects, busily picking up the mosaic pieces; within minutes, they had cleaned up the mess. “See how efficient Kryptonians can be if they work together and follow a single leader?” Aethyr said. “That’s why we have to help everyone see what Zod can do for them. If you write our history properly, you’ll be helping to save Krypton as surely as your husband’s drilling project will.”

Before she could reply, Lara fought against a sudden twisting in her stomach; she took long, deep breaths through her nostrils. At first she thought it was some instinctive revulsion to what they were asking her to do, but it was merely her pregnancy. Even though she loved to feel the baby growing inside her, she had recently begun suffering bouts of morning sickness.

Neither Aethyr nor Zod seemed to notice her discomfiture. Trying to calm her nausea, Lara spoke to them through clenched teeth. “We are still in the midst of such chaotic events. There’s not enough perspective for a true history.”

“One must start somewhere, and events are fresh in your mind.” Zod brushed a speck from his chest. “I will grant you full access, so you can get the truth directly from me, instead of listening to any rumors you might hear.”

Aethyr added with a snort, “Borga City continues to mount a smear campaign against the Commissioner, disregarding all we’ve accomplished. They completely ignore the fact that we have the nova javelins to protect Krypton. Zod has asked to meet with Shor-Em to discuss matters, but the man refuses.”

Zod nodded gravely. “Fortunately, many of those who spoke out against me have been convinced otherwise. Gil-Ex was the first, as you know, and many others have respectfully retired into seclusion. Tyr-Us recently joined them, too.”

Lara hadn’t heard this. “
Tyr-Us
now supports you? That’s an amazing turnabout.”

“He saw that his outspoken criticism was harming Krypton’s chances for recovery. We won’t be hearing any more complaints from him.”

Lara bit her lower lip, trying to hide her skepticism. “In order to make your chronicle accurate, I should speak to those men, include their points of view. Let them state in their own words what they originally thought and why they changed their minds. That will be a good way to provide a balanced perspective.”

Zod was instantly troubled. “No, the focus should be on me and my goals. Wasting time on them is merely a distraction. For now, you have enough material to begin writing.” He gestured toward the scaffolding. “I will assign other people to oversee these art projects.”

“Wait! I—I haven’t agreed yet.”

“Of course you have, Lara.” Aethyr patted her on the shoulder in a patronizing gesture. “Of course you have.”

The intense red beams continued
to pound into the crater of Kandor, melting through the crust. Enclosed by the distant walls of the broad valley, trapped dust and smoke made the sky thick and hazy. Even up in the mountains, every breath tasted of ozone, burnt metal, and ash.

Though Jor-El covered his face with a snug breathing mask, his eyes still burned and watered. Zor-El stared into the ripples of thermal disturbance that radiated from the pulsing Rao beam. No-Ton and his technicians bustled about, amazed and intimidated by what they were doing.

All day, every day, as soon as the red sun rose high enough to charge the collectors, energy was funneled to the focusing point to generate the Rao beam. The drilling continued unabated until sunset, at which point the beam weakened and finally faded. After dark, the brothers ate premade meals in their temporary hut and reviewed the current day’s progress and the next day’s plans with No-Ton and his team. The two pored over cartography sheets and depth-analysis simulators to get a better picture of the inexplicable shifts in Krypton’s core.

Each evening, Jor-El spoke with Lara in Kryptonopolis. Just seeing her image on the communication plate lifted his spirits. When she mentioned that Zod had asked her to be his official biographer, he had mixed feelings and sensed that she did, too. His brother expressed doubts about the Commissioner’s motives and tactics, especially after Tyr-Us’s warnings.

Jor-El told him not to worry. “Lara isn’t easily swayed. She’ll tell the truth, whether Zod likes it or not.”

“He may well censor her.”

Jor-El frowned, recalling many former encounters with the man. “Yes, he’s done that plenty of times before.”

The Commissioner sent brusque official messages encouraging Jor-El to complete his task as quickly as possible and return to his weapons development work. He even suggested that Zor-El come to Kryptonopolis and offer his help and insights, now that his concerns about the core pressure were being addressed. Zor-El gave a noncommittal answer, hesitant to reconsider his opinion of the man.

Several hours after sunset, the zone around the crater had cooled enough that the brothers could venture down to the drilling site and take additional readings. None of the other technicians wanted to accompany them into the hellish place. The smoky air was nearly unbreathable, forcing the two to wear protective goggles and filter masks.

In the charred darkness, Jor-El and his brother walked through the remnants of the empty refugee camp, feeling the eerie mood, the strange sense of loss. So much had been abandoned in place: support frameworks, sanitation pits, garbage dumps. Toxic soot covered the landscape for kilometers around. Rocks cracked, rumbled, and popped as they cooled. Waves of heat shimmered up from the impossibly deep hole. Jor-El hoped that later generations wouldn’t curse them for causing so much destruction. Then again, if later generations survived at all, it would be due to their efforts here.

Zor-El walked ahead, intent on reaching the lip of the crater. From his pack, he removed a glistening scaled device, another of his diamondfish detectors. Once activated, it squirmed and twitched in his hands, its impenetrable armor flashing reflections from their handlights.

Zor-El touched a particular scale to activate a fuzzy, glowing envelope around the diamondfish. Leaning forward, he whispered, “Drop down to the warm depths, my friend, and tell us how far we have drilled.” He tossed the diamondfish over the edge, and it tumbled, flashing, into the shadows. He tuned the handheld receiver and watched the trace as the diamondfish fell for more than four minutes down the shaft. When the mechanical creature finally struck the bottom, it took a moment to recover and get its bearings before it began sending back images of the melted rock.

Jor-El looked at the readings. “Yes, we should break through by midmorning tomorrow.”

Zor-El remained silent for a moment and then said, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “I’ve revisited my calculations using a slightly different set of assumptions and initial conditions. There may be a…problem.”

“You revised your calculations? Shouldn’t I proof them? What did you find?”

“There’s a chance—an extremely slight one—that instead of relieving the pressure in the core, this breach just might…crack open the planet. All of Krypton could explode like a punctured pressure vessel.”

Jor-El stared at him in disbelief. “We’re going to break through tomorrow, and
now
you raise this possibility?”

“As I said, it’s a very remote chance, hardly worth mentioning,” Zor-El replied, sounding defensive. “You know what’s happening down there. We have a choice that’s not really a choice at all. Even raising the question would have invited months or years of tedious discussions—discussions among people who haven’t got the slightest understanding of the science. You and I are the only ones qualified to make the decision.”

“For the whole planet?”

“Yes, for the whole planet! We either accept the risk that our actions
might
cause a disaster, or we do nothing and
ensure
a disaster. I’ll take the chance.”

Jor-El let out a long sigh. “Let me look over your calculations. If I don’t find the risk acceptable, I’m calling a halt to our operations here.”

Zor-El was not happy, but he conceded. Later, back in their habitation hut, they hunched over the light of a glowcrystal as Jor-El pored over line after line of his brother’s mathematics. He did find one error, but it was in Krypton’s favor, reducing the chances of disaster even further. Zor-El flushed with embarrassment, even though the results made the risk of planetary destruction orders of magnitude less likely.

Jor-El was still uneasy, but could see no better choice. “All right, I’m satisfied. We drill tomorrow, and we finish this.”