The Last Days of Krypton (32 page)

After humiliating General Zod in
such a spectacular and public forum, Zor-El knew that his days were numbered. He had to build up Argo City’s defenses and bring together any others who would fight the tyrant.

While the destruction of Borga City had driven many people into frightened submission, it had also galvanized an uneasy ragtag rebellion into a genuine force. Shor-Em had not gone far enough, and he had never dreamed how Zod would be willing to respond.

The Borga refugees had lost everything, and now they joined any resistance they could find, offering to stand and fight against the tyrant. As they drifted to temporary new homes, they began to build an army that was much more widespread than anything the General had imagined.

In his private villa Zor-El met with powerful merchants, industrialists, deputy leaders, and other volunteers who wanted to join the new resistance. A handful of people had come directly to him after he’d warned them to evacuate from Borga City, making no secret of the fact that they owed him their lives. More and more volunteers came from all across Krypton, and determined members from the Society of Vigilance vigorously sought to weed out any spies sent by Zod.

“General Zod already has an army, powerful weapons, and most of Krypton under his thumb,” said Gal-Eth, the vice mayor of Orvai. He had bristly blond hair and a ruddy face. He had fled his beautiful city in the lake district after the reluctant replacement for the lost Gil-Ex had trudged off to bend his knee in submission to Zod. “How can we protect ourselves against that?”

“We’re the people of Krypton,” Zor-El said. “We can do the impossible.”

“It’s been a long time since we did the impossible,” grumbled shaggy-haired Or-Om, a prominent industrialist from a small mining town in the mountains north of Corril. “The old Council beat that out of us for so long that we forgot how to be innovative.”

“Then we’ll find a way to remember,” Korth-Or insisted. His sandy-brown hair was streaked with gray, as if he had rubbed ashes it in; his face was narrow, his lips generous, and he spoke with a faint lisp. He had escaped with his family on the night before Zod destroyed Borga City. Korth-Or had temporary quarters in Argo City, but he made no secret that he would have been much happier on the march against General Zod.

In the bright morning, Zor-El faced the sunlit room full of anxious but determined men and women. Alura had placed verdant potted plants along all the walls. “Those of you who can, go back to your own cities,” he advised the secret group. Korth-Or sat fuming with indignation, reminded that he had no home. “Speak to your populations, find volunteers. We have to gather an army strong enough to stand against Zod—and soon—or we are lost.”

“Are you sure we aren’t lost already?” Or-Om had been imagining disasters since long before Krypton had actually faced one, and it had taken much convincing for him to join this gathering, leaving his industries behind. “Our resistance to Zod was based in Borga City, and now that’s gone.”

Such talk angered Zor-El. “The resistance is here now. But if that’s how you truly feel, then go to Kryptonopolis, and bend your knee to Zod. Be my guest.”

No one took him up on the offer.

As soon as she found the mysterious message crystal left just inside the villa’s portico, Charys carried it to Zor-El in his high tower laboratory.

He had been struggling day and night to increase the scope of the force field. When it was no more than a small bubble around the diamondfish, the design had been simple. But to form a whole hemispherical dome over Argo City was a nearly insoluble problem. Red-eyed, he continued to test his shield, raising the shimmering barricade higher and higher above the seawall. There must be no weak point against an attack from Zod’s minions.

His mother held out the crystal, and he realized exactly who had sent the message. “It’s from Jor-El.” He had been angry after their recent argument about Zod, but his brother had also made possible the defiant transmission through the facets of the towering crystals, and—much to Zor-El’s astonishment—he had also revealed that he’d sabotaged the Rao-beam generator. And Jor-El was absolutely right about the threat of the comet, and he had sent urgent warnings to Borga City, which allowed many of the people to escape.

Charys thrust the crystal at him. “You can’t change the message by avoiding it.”

As soon as Zor-El cupped the message crystal in his warm hand, the image began to form. The ivory-haired scientist spoke to him insistently, “We need to help each other. No matter how terrible Zod’s actions, we both know that our most pressing problem is Loth-Ur’s Hammer. Our time grows shorter day by day, and we’ve already lost a month during which we should have pooled all our resources and brainpower to divert the comet. Zor-El, you and I might be Krypton’s only hope, the only ones who can see.”

Charys did not take long to speak her mind after the message faded. “He’s right—and you know it. You’ve got to help him.”

He shook his head slowly. “You’re my conscience and my sounding board, Mother, but what if Zod forced him to send that message? Jor-El has a wife, and they’re about to have a baby. General Zod has ways to coerce him.”

She stared intently at him. “And do you believe that?”

He looked at her for a long moment before he finally shook his head. “No.”

“The two sons of Yar-El can find a way. Share your defensive shield with him.” Charys gestured to the calculations strewn on his table. “Maybe he’ll show you how to expand it to help other cities.”

“I can’t do that! Do I dare risk letting the shield fall into Zod’s hands? He would use it to make his defenses impregnable. How can we ever defeat him if he hides behind an impervious barrier?”

He stepped out onto the open balcony where he breathed in the cool evening air. “Even if I accept what Jor-El says, it’s best to let Zod believe that the two of us remain at odds. What if he tries to use my brother as a bargaining chip? What if he threatens to kill his wife and unborn child unless I capitulate?” He looked into his mother’s deep-brown eyes. He knew in his heart that Zod would not hesitate to do exactly that.

“Then we just can’t let that happen,” she said.

Filled with a mixture of inspiration and dread, Zor-El went back to his work. He refused to give up, refused to sleep until he had solved at least one critical problem.

The time for subtlety had
passed. Now that he had named himself General, rallied his followers, and coerced his critics, Zod pulled together his weapons and manpower. A sullen Jor-El worked his daily assignment in the underground control rooms, where General Zod had instructed him to ensure that the nova javelins would function properly.

And Aethyr remained vigilant for any weak points in their government. She watched Lara closely, and waited, and finally made her move.

Lara was her friend—former friend—yet now Aethyr feared the other woman was becoming a liability. And if that were the case, she intended to find out for herself and expose Lara. It would be so much worse if Zod should discover it first.

Aethyr chose her time well. Because of her pregnancy, Lara had regular appointments with her doctor, a dry and humorless woman named Kirana-Tu. Aethyr waited until Lara went to the new Kryptonopolis medical center before she and Nam-Ek approached the private dwelling. In Kryptonopolis, no door was blocked to the consort of General Zod; they easily bypassed the locks.

With Nam-Ek watching at the door, Aethyr moved through the main chamber, poking around until she found the long table where Lara had set up her writing pads, stylus, and recording sheets. Her eyes lit up with curiosity. Here was the great chronicle that Zod had commissioned, the firsthand historical record of events.

Aethyr swiftly scanned the lines of text. Lara had concise, clear handwriting, not overly flowery or effeminate. Later editions of this work would no doubt include calligraphy and holographic enhancements. Someday every student on Krypton would be required to memorize the life of Zod. However, as she skimmed page after page, Aethyr found the summaries of events to be lackluster, forced. She was quite disappointed.

And suspicious. She knew her friend better than that, knew that Lara did not hold back her opinions. The very absence of any sort of commentary or the slightest of veiled criticisms made Aethyr wonder what the other woman could be hiding.

Hiding…

“Nam-Ek, we must search this place. Find out what they are trying to keep secret from us.” The authority of General Zod gave her all the confidence and justification she needed. With an eager grin, the big mute nodded and began to tear the dwelling apart.

In a hidden and sealed drawer in a private bureau inside the bedchamber, beneath the writing surface, she found a journal. Lara’s real record.

Now, as she read from line to line, Aethyr’s heart fell and her anger rose. What should have been a glorious biography lionizing a great leader was full of harsh criticisms and insults. Lara blatantly accused Zod of foolish mistakes, character flaws, and grave hubris! She portrayed him as a bloodthirsty tyrant.

Aethyr stood cold for a long moment, debating what to do. Finally she gathered up the pages. She would make absolutely certain that the public could never read these lies.

“Come, Nam-Ek. We must see the General immediately.”

Aethyr dropped the papers on Zod’s desk. She made no apology for interrupting his strategy session for a retaliatory strike on Argo City. “Read this. Lara wrote it.”

He picked up the sheets. “What am I looking for?”

“Choose a page at random. It should be quite apparent.”

She watched the General as he read first one page, then another, then a third. He didn’t say a word, but he grew coldly, murderously furious.

The female doctor pronounced Lara’s
baby healthy and strong in its third trimester. “You should have no complications.”

Lara let out a wry laugh, though the sheer tension in her mind made any sort of laughter difficult. “No complications? That’ll be quite a change, considering how our lives have been going.”

“What do you mean?” Kirana-Tu asked, not understanding the joke. She was supposedly one of the best obstetricians on Krypton, but she had little awareness of outside events. Lara smiled to herself, reminded of Jor-El’s single-mindedness when he focused on a complex technical problem.

“By the way,” the doctor added, as if it were an irrelevant detail, “the baby will be a boy. I thought you’d like to know.”

“A son!” Lara couldn’t wait to tell Jor-El.

Again, the doctor missed the reason for her patient’s excitement. “Well, it had to be one or the other. Would you have been just as excited if I told you it was a daughter?”

“Of course.” Lara was now even more convinced that the two of them would have to slip away from Kryptonopolis and escape from Zod’s oppression. But she also knew they were being watched carefully.

Pleased to have such a clean bill of health, and her news, Lara left the medical center only to find Aethyr and Nam-Ek waiting for her. Both wore implacable expressions. Nam-Ek took one large step forward and grasped Lara’s arm with a broad hand. His grip was like a shackle.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Should I ask what this is about?”

Aethyr stepped forward, looking as if Lara had entirely betrayed her. “If you need to ask, then you are more foolish than even I guessed. Be sure to include that in your seditious historical chronicle.”

“So, you read my journal?” Lara quipped, knowing she could not deny what she had written. Suddenly she could no longer hold in her pent-up dissatisfactions and her rage at what Zod had done. “Was my grammar incorrect? The spelling? Maybe you didn’t like my descriptions. Too many adverbs? Or perhaps I should have taken more creative license in describing Zod. But you did want this to be a
history
instead of a fantasy, right? Or did I misunderstand you?”

Aethyr didn’t answer. Nam-Ek hustled Lara toward the Square of Hope.

Lara went on, though she knew it would do her no good. “I particularly liked my account of the annihilation of Borga City. Quite vivid prose.” The big mute pulled her arm so hard she nearly stumbled.

“I wanted to add interviews with all those dissidents who so cheerfully changed their minds and conveniently retired, but I couldn’t find any of them. Not a one! Do you suppose something terrible happened to them? Maybe we should tell the General. He’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Aethyr said, “Silence! I won’t hear you speak of him that way.”

“Oh, his actions speak well enough for themselves.”

Nam-Ek was so angry he issued a grunt.

They reached one of the towering emerald crystal spires at the corner of the square. Not long ago, Zor-El’s defiant face had been transmitted from these facets, linking into electronic resonance and communications circuits that Jor-El had added to his father’s original blueprint. Now the gleaming towers had been stripped of all outside connections, power sources, and amenities.

The lattice design had created intentional voids, cavities, and chambers to be modified into rooms. Eventually, these towers were earmarked to become crowded administrative buildings, but at the moment the spiky turrets acted only as showpieces to demonstrate the grandeur of Kryptonopolis.

Nam-Ek shoved Lara into one of the openings. She stumbled into a transparent-walled office…no, a cell. She whirled, still shouting bitterly to Aethyr. She couldn’t stop the words pouring out of her. “If you bring me filmpaper, I can keep writing. The General asked me to finish the chronicle right away. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him!”

“Sarcasm will not help your case, Lara.”

She tossed her amber hair. “Did I have a case? Does that mean there will be a fair trial? An objective court? I look forward to speaking in my own defense.”

Aethyr added a growth crystal to the wall and applied a small power source. “Zod isn’t going to make a spectacle of you. You aren’t important enough to warrant that sort of treatment.” Crystals began to grow, and angular spears closed off the room. As the last of the gap sealed shut, Aethyr added, “The General doesn’t want you. He wants Jor-El. And with you locked away in here, your husband will have no choice but to cooperate.”

Jor-El had a sickening feeling about why he had been summoned before Zod. He could think of several reasons why he might be in trouble. He stood straight-backed and unyielding, saying nothing. He had been planning to flee with Lara, to escape so that he could work with his brother in Argo City, but now he feared it was too late.

An angry General Zod sat in his heavy office chair with his consort at his shoulder, as silent and intimidating as Nam-Ek. Glaring at Jor-El, Aethyr lovingly stroked her husband’s uniform. High above, the fabric pavilion coverings of the roof flapped and fluttered as a dry wind picked up.

Zod tapped his fingers together pretending to search for words, but Jor-El could tell that he had practiced his little soliloquy. “I need you, Jor-El. I have always needed you. But more than anything else, I need you to support me. I need you to be my staunchest ally, rather than someone who participates only halfheartedly.”

Jor-El remained silent and rigid. He had too many secrets, too many plans in the works. Even now, sensing his personal peril, he could not forget about the giant comet coming…but Zod seemed intent on destroying Krypton first.

The General got up from his desk and paced around him. “Until now, I have acted as an indulgent parent with an exceptional child. I have allowed you to play with whatever interested you.”

“What interests me is what’s most important to Krypton. Right now, our greatest threat is Loth-Ur’s Hammer, not your critics! If that mountain of ice and rock smashes into our planet,
everyone
will die—yet you ignore it.”

Aethyr moved like a viper about to strike. “Be quiet when the General speaks to you.”

Zod waved her back. “Remember that I have followed your career for a long time, Jor-El. First you warned that our sun could go supernova at any time. Next, you and your brother claimed our planet would explode. Now it’s a comet. This threat is a hobgoblin of your imagination—or worse, a plan to divert my attention so your brother’s rebellion can gain strength.” He narrowed his eyes. “I know you secretly sympathize with the dissidents, and I will not be deceived by your comet.”

Jor-El squared his shoulders. “You are wrong, General. Dead wrong. If there’s any deception here, it’s you who have deceived yourself.”

Zod sounded weary. “From this day forward, I expect you to work with unwavering dedication on the nova javelins. You will inspect all fifteen, repair any defects, and ensure that the missiles are ready for launch at a moment’s notice. The charts and coordinates from Jax-Ur are out of date and inaccurate. I charge you with the responsibility of updating all their navigation systems.” He ran a finger along his lower lip. “I may need the weapons sooner than I expected.”

“I refuse.”

The General cut him off. “To ensure your dedication to the greater good, I have taken your wife into protective custody. She is being kept safe inside one of the crystal towers where, also for the greater good, she can write no more of her malicious distortions of epic historic events. There is no need for her or your unborn baby to be harmed—so long as you remain cooperative.”

His heart pounding, Jor-El stared at the General, who stared back. Using Lara as a fulcrum, Zod could move him however he wished—and the General knew it. In a voice as cold as an ice crystal, Jor-El said, “Before I do anything, take me to Lara. I must see for myself that she’s unharmed.”

Aethyr’s tone was dangerous. “You do not give orders to Zod.”

The General did not break eye contact with Jor-El. “I give you my word she is quite unharmed.”

Jor-El shook his head. “You have given me no reason to trust you.”

Zod sighed, making it seem as if he was doing the scientist a great favor. “Very well. Seeing her will convince you faster than arguing would.”

Jor-El maintained his stiff demeanor as he marched alongside the General, matching his brisk, military pace.

The towering shard of green crystal loomed over the edge of the Square of Hope, riddled with small cavities and inclusions. Zod led him through the main entrance and along curving, faceted tunnels to where Lara was sequestered. Angled crystal spikes had been grown across the doorway like overlapping prison bars. Jor-El could see his wife’s form through the translucent walls. He ran toward her, to Zod’s apparent amusement.

Lara heard him coming. She pushed her hand between the crossed crystal bars, and Jor-El clasped her cold fingers. “Lara, are you safe? Has he hurt you?”

“Other than sealing me in this cell? No—I don’t think he will.”

“Make no mistake, I
will
hurt you,” Zod said from several paces away, “but only if it is the only means to achieve my goals.”

Jor-El ignored him. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here.”

She squeezed his hand. “Don’t let him manipulate you. You know what he’s capable of. He’ll use me as a hostage—”

The General came forward and added another growth crystal to the wall. With a series of snaps and cracks, the intersecting spears thickened and began to fill in the gaps in the lattice. Lara snatched her hand back before the bars closed around it.

“There.” Zod assumed a cordial manner. “Now we can get on with our real work.”