The Last Days of Krypton (30 page)

Seeing Zod’s reactionary response to
the growing defiance of other cities, Jor-El worried that the Commissioner might cut off public access to the communication plates. He had hoped the man would put aside his own grandiose concerns when faced with an emergency that went beyond politics and personal feuds. But though he expected a rational reaction from Zod, he was not entirely surprised. Zod made decisions based on how they affected
him,
not how they affected Krypton. Jor-El could no longer rely on the Commissioner. He had to take his own action, find other help.

While Zod met in secret councils with his Ring of Strength, engrossed in planning a response to Shor-Em, Jor-El seized the opportunity to contact his brother. Zor-El would understand the threat of the comet, and he would see the games and stupidity as the insignificant distraction that they were.

Unfortunately, when his brother’s face sharpened into clarity on the flat plate, he was formal, even stiff. “Give me good news, Jor-El. Tell me you’ve finally realized what Commissioner Zod is doing. Tell me that you’ll come join me and Shor-Em and the legitimate New Council.”

Jor-El was surprised by the vehemence in his brother’s voice. “There’s a new threat to Krypton, and Commissioner Zod won’t do anything about it. Put aside these foolish rivalries and listen to me.”

“Foolish rivalries? The future of our civilization is at stake. Can’t you see what Zod is doing?” He raised a finger. “Where is Tyr-Us? Gil-Ex? All those who have spoken out against him? Zod made them disappear, probably killed them. And don’t quote that ridiculous explanation that they’ve ‘retired from public view.’”

He had never seen his brother so angry. “Zor-El, what’s the matter with you? Listen to me—”

“What’s the
matter
? When Tyr-Us warned me about Zod, I thought he was paranoid. I told him to hide in our parents’ dacha. But he vanished. The house was empty, ransacked. I saw blood. He’s gone.”

Jor-El struggled to absorb what his brother was saying. He had known nothing of this.

“Then last night our mother and Alura were attacked by Zod’s fanatics in a failed abduction attempt.”

Jor-El reeled. “Attacked? Are they all right? Tell me what happened. Are you sure the Commissioner’s people were responsible?”

“They are both unharmed. My Society of Vigilance got there in time, chased away one of the abductors while the other one jumped off a bridge. Thankfully, we were prepared.”

The white-haired scientist could not fit the pieces together in his mind. “Then how do you know they were Zod’s men? Why would the Commissioner target our mother or your wife?” This made no sense to him.

“Because I evicted his followers from Argo City. I’m convinced Zod wanted hostages he could threaten to kill if I didn’t capitulate.”

“But if you have no proof, you can’t make these wild accusations.”

“You know it’s true. You can’t be so blind.”

Jor-El drew a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “In truth, I would not be surprised.” Then he pushed stubbornly ahead, refusing to be sidetracked the way Zod himself had been. “Listen to me. This is science you can’t ignore. Please!”

The other man remained steely and trembling with anger. “What could possibly be more important than a threat to my wife and our mother—”

“
This.
The end of all life on Krypton!” Jor-El inserted one of the projection crystals into the side of the communication plate and displayed the image of the comet, its jets of outpouring gas, and the deadly intersection of orbital paths. “Look at the orbits.”

On the screen, Zor-El frowned as he immediately grasped the implications. “What does your precious Commissioner have to say about this?”

“He’s more concerned about Shor-Em and Borga City. We can’t rely on him.” Jor-El couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “While the comet hurtles toward us, Zod rallies his armies. I saw him studying tactical maps. He won’t tolerate the way Shor-Em has challenged him.”

“Are you talking about a military assault on Borga City? Is he mad? My first duty is to warn Shor-Em to prepare his defenses.”

Jor-El was dismayed by his brother’s reaction. “You, too? We’ll all be killed if we don’t stop the comet. That must be our only priority.”

“If Zod attacks now, we will be embroiled in a civil war that’s bound to last much longer than four months. No one will even look into the sky as Loth-Ur’s Hammer comes right toward us. This is happening now, Jor-El, right now. We have to prevent it.” His mood changed, and he sounded more urgent. “Come to Argo City and work with me. I couldn’t save Tyr-Us from Zod, but I will not let him corrupt my own brother any further.”

“Zod won’t just let us leave Kryptonopolis. His Ring of Strength has been watching us carefully.” Jor-El shook his head. “And he may be the only person on Krypton with the resources to save us. If there is even the slightest possiblility I can force him to see reason, or somehow use the tools in Kryptonopolis, then I have to take that chance.
We
have to take that chance. Everything else is just politics.” He searched his brother’s hardened face. “We used to laugh at people with misplaced priorities like that, Zor-El. Look at my data, I beg you. And then tell me where you want to focus your efforts. Give me your ideas. Otherwise, I’m on my own.” He ended the transmission.

That night, sailing off the coast, Zor-El sat brooding with Alura on the benches of their gently rocking boat. He had told no one but his wife about Jor-El’s disturbing news.

Their boat, a cat’s cradle of silver struts and cables, glided across the calm sea. Ninety small sails of different geometric shapes were loosely connected to one another like a vast fabric puzzle, catching errant breezes from any direction. Glowing crystals lined the masts, turning the craft into a spiderweb of colors.

Zor-El stared at his beloved metropolis on the peninsula. Lit up at night, the spires and hemispherical buildings shone like a mirage. A faintly visible shimmer from the extended force-field barrier above the seawall distorted the stars at the horizon.

“It seems so peaceful out here, Alura.” It was the first he had spoken in many minutes. “Quite a paradox.”

The night breeze stirred her dark hair. “How did Shor-Em respond when you warned him about Zod’s attack plans?”

“Borga City was already on high alert. Shor-Em will remain vigilant, but I have no idea how Zod intends to strike. My brother didn’t offer any details. He was much more concerned about the comet.”

Alura, as usual, was frank. “Shouldn’t we be concerned about the comet? Jor-El is rarely wrong.” The boat rocked as rippling waves passed them by. Deep beneath the water, a yellowish glow flowed and stirred, like a pool of sentient phosphorescent liquid, then dove deep.

Zor-El let out a long, sad sigh. “Yes, he’s right. I looked at his data. There’s no question about it.” The black vault of night overhead was peppered with frequent meteors, many from the debris ejected by the spewing lava jet. What drew his attention, though, was the pearlescent cometary arc, as if some ghostly painter had used a wide brush to spread a trail across the night.

“So beautiful,” Alura said. “And deadly.”

“Jor-El saw something that none of us noticed while we were preoccupied with ourselves. He said I was falling prey to false priorities, just like I accused Zod of doing. And I can’t dispute that.”

“So what will you do?” Alura asked.

“How can I stop a comet? We don’t have the technology. Anything powerful enough to do that would have been squashed by the Commission for Technology Acceptance long ago.” He gritted his teeth as the thoughts grew more definite in his mind. “I can expand my protective barrier. Maybe it can save our city from a cometary impact.”

He nodded, already planning how to install simple generators. He could raise a whole hemisphere to cover Argo City. “I could offer the barrier to other cities as well. If Jor-El’s worst-case scenario happens, at least some of us might be saved.” Their boat continued to drift on the gentle currents, but Zor-El knew it was just the calm before the storm. “Unless the whole planet is smashed to bits.”

Inside Zod’s newly designated war
room, Aethyr and Koll-Em studied terrain simulations modeled out of transparent gel. Beside them, Nam-Ek looked on with silent interest. The dark blue fabric of the big mute’s uniform was stretched tight across his muscles; a crimson sash draped from his left shoulder to a gold belt at his waist.

“The marshes around Borga City are going to pose extreme difficulties for frontal assault,” Aethyr pointed out. “The ground is uncertain, the canals are a maze, and the mud will prevent us from using heavy siege machinery.”

“Then we’ll bring in wave after wave of large floater platforms filled with soldiers.” Koll-Em sounded eager. “My weakling brother won’t put up much of a fight. He talks a lot, but I doubt his meek followers would find the courage even to throw pebbles down at us from their balloons!”

Zod said with finality, “There will be no direct military assault.”

“Then how are we going to defeat them?” whined Koll-Em. “My brother has defied you. You can’t simply ignore that.”

“I will not ignore it. But I plan to use a much more efficient method to eradicate them and, at the same time, demonstrate my power to the rest of Krypton.”

“What do you intend, my love?” Aethyr’s eyes flashed.

Zod ran his fingers over the gel-formed topographical sculpture, caressing them from the mountaintops down to the marshy drainage in the east. “Jor-El has given me the very weapon I need to cauterize this wound. Come, we will take a small party and head north to the mountains. The people of Borga City will never see it coming.”

Only a small force went to the nearly deserted Rao-beam facility. The group consisted of no more than a dozen men, mostly chosen from the ranks of the former Sapphire Guards.

After crossing a wasteland of soot, chunks of lava rock, and burned vegetation at the edge of the Kandor valley, Zod’s troops pushed up the steep and narrow mountain roads to the installation. No longer in operation, the tall metal-framed derrick creaked and hummed as breezes whined through it. The focusing lenses, prisms, and powerful Rao batteries had been taken off-line, but still sat ready.

Several weeks ago, the lava geyser had died away to a burble, which No-Ton had covered with a small force-field cap, precisely following the instructions Zor-El had left behind. A small scientific team had remained to monitor the now-sealed hole. Hearing the troops arrive, the technicians emerged from their battered and dented prefab shacks that huddled among the cold cliffs. No-Ton stared at the Commissioner’s group in surprise.

Zod announced boldly, “We require this installation for the defense of Krypton, to strike a blow against an enemy even worse than Brainiac—an internal enemy.” When the others didn’t seem to know how to respond, he continued. “I have tried unsuccessfully to be reasonable. Now there can be no other solution than to eliminate the festering sore of Borga City.”

Standing atop the ridge, Zod turned from the blasted valley of Kandor and looked down the other side of the divide, to the east. Beyond the foothills, numerous stream-carved drainages created swampy lowlands. The target was nestled close to the horizon, nearly at the limit of the Rao beam’s range.

Zod turned to size up the derrick framework. When Jor-El had built the Rao beam, he had designed it to aim the beam down into the crater of Kandor, nothing more; he had not installed automated systems for altering the direction of the carefully aligned beam. Now the whole structure would have to be swiveled around using brute force. “Nam-Ek, turn that heavy projector mechanism. Remember what I showed you on the map?”

The big man’s muscles bulged as he strained against the cross-hatched structure, swiveling the thick bars that held the focusing lenses. Zod shook his head at the clumsy and imprecise method. “A disappointing oversight,” he said aloud. “We neglected to plan for the possibility of other targets.”

No-Ton bustled about in distress. Though he was part of the Ring of Strength, the noble-born scientist paid more attention to engineering matters than strategy meetings. “Commissioner, could I please have more technical details? This is very delicate equipment.” He glanced sidelong at Nam-Ek, who continued to wrestle with the machinery. “It could take a day or more for proper realignment and recalibration, depending on the target.”

Zod drew a deep breath of the razor-edged cold air. “Can’t you do it faster?”

The scientist stiffened. “Do you want it fast, Commissioner, or accurate? I can do either one, but not both. Which would you prefer?”

Aethyr came up beside Zod and spoke in a hushed voice. “Another day won’t make any significant difference, my love, but a mistake would be quite embarrassing. Let No-Ton do what he says he needs to do.”

“Very well.” Zod unfurled his filmpaper map and held it against the gusting breezes. “These are the coordinates. This is your target.”

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.”