The Last Days of Krypton (36 page)

Zor-El’s allied rebels were converging
on Kryptonopolis when they saw the nova javelins streak into the sky. He paused to stare up at the curving vapor trails while his companions gasped in dismay and awe. He swallowed in a dry throat. Within moments, if the missiles found their target, all of Argo City might be vaporized. When Zod’s armies had departed, unsuccessful, Zor-El had deactivated the force-field dome. Seeing the missiles approach, they could always switch it back on again, but would it withstand
nova javelins
? Alura could be dead, and his mother, all his friends and acquaintances, all of Argo City’s great works—gone in a few moments.

But he trusted Jor-El would do as he had promised.

Now, as the golden missiles vanished into the distant sky, Korth-Or spoke, his lisp growing more pronounced with his agitation. He had already lost his own city. “So Zod really did it! The bastard.”

“Should we wait? If the world is going to end today, what good does it do for us to attack Kryptonopolis?” Or-Om shook his shaggy head in disbelief.

Zor-El drew his dark eyebrows together. “Because if the world doesn’t end, then every moment will count.” They had gambled everything on this surprise turnabout, and he would hold on to hope.

His multipronged army continued toward the capital city with its hodgepodge assembly of vehicles and equipment—tools that had been hastily converted into weapons, passenger craft refitted to become military vehicles and soldier transports. The fighters came from the refugees of Borga City, as well as dozens of other cities and towns; Zor-El had drawn the bulk of them from his own citizenry. Now the armed group moved inexorably toward the former Xan City, knowing they would be outnumbered. But Zor-El told them to have faith.

And they did.

Then the army saw the huge flare high in the sky. Even in broad daylight, the searing blue-white detonation cast second shadows, overwhelming the red sunlight. Blinking and rubbing their eyes, the anxious rebels stared in awe at the spreading glow that marked the destroyed comet in space. They cheered and whooped, but Zor-El allowed them no time to celebrate. “Onward! We can’t slow down now.”

When at last they reached the city, Zor-El took in the breathtaking view of the rebuilt capital now encased under a nested set of shimmering domes—exactly as he had hoped to find it. General Zod’s supporters were all bottled up inside the force fields. “Now it’s time to do some mopping up.”

The rebel army encountered several hundred stragglers around the perimeter of the outermost dome. They were trying to batter their way in, assuming that Zod had shut them
out
. Zor-El smiled at the irony as his troops quickly rounded up the confused men and women. Most surrendered without a fight; some struggled, but they were easily disarmed and taken prisoner.

Zor-El had brought several dozen smaller force-field generators, which his army used as holding domes to keep the groups separated. Afterward, it would be an arduous task to sort out which of these people belonged fanatically to Zod’s cause and which had been only reluctant fighters.

By the time the rebels overwhelmed the stragglers and encircled the outermost dome over the city, Zor-El’s rebel army had acquired twice as many weapons as they had arrived with. Then, fully armed, they prepared for the next phase, spreading out around the force field’s perimeter. When Or-Om, Korth-Or, and Gal-Eth announced that their separate groups of soldiers were ready, Zor-El found the hidden shield generator exactly where his brother had told him he intended to install it.

With a last glance around to be sure his fighters were prepared to face Zod’s men trapped between the next two domes, he deactivated the outermost shield. Because of the large area between the two shells, Zor-El knew that this would be the largest single crowd of enemy soldiers; each successively smaller dome would contain fewer and fewer fighters. Divide and conquer.

Several frantic members of the Ring of Strength were inside, cut off and struggling to understand what had happened. As the force field vanished, Zor-El’s troops pushed forward, but Zod’s Ring members rallied their followers to attack. Some fired their weapons indiscriminately, but many of the reluctant soldiers simply surrendered.

Zor-El’s rebels isolated the hot spots and disarmed the numerous men and women who obviously had never wanted to join Zod’s army. Working inward, he deactivated another force-field dome and advanced to the Square of Hope, where the bisected Zod statue lay like a fallen idol on the ground, and within an hour, the newcomers had subjugated all the people inside that shell. By now they had disarmed the majority of the opposing army, and their own casualties were minimal.

However, when he shut down the subsequent dome that encompassed the government palace, a sudden fury of armored Sapphire Guards led by a screaming Koll-Em nearly overwhelmed them. Some of Zod’s loyalists used beam lances, new weapons corrupted from Jor-El’s original designs, to incinerate the first line of rebel soldiers. The sheer violence drove back Zor-El’s fighters, and they were forced to leave their dead on the ground.

He cried out, “Pull together! Take them out before they kill any more of us.” Ten of his fighters had already been cut down.

“For Borga City!” Korth-Or shouted, still pushing forward.

“For
Krypton
!” Gal-Eth added.

Ferret-faced Koll-Em had no interest in surrendering or even surviving. The Sapphire Guards continued to fire their deadly beam lances. Taking careful aim, Zor-El shot his own weapon, sending a burst of thin crystal darts into Koll-Em’s chest. With a scream that faded to silence like the air leaking out of a balloon, the head of the Ring of Strength collapsed to the stone steps outside the government palace.

Weapons fire pummeled the last Sapphire Guards, powerful enough to breach their armor. After a flurry of noise, silence descended again.

Zor-El bowed his head. “How many did we lose?” He listened as names were called out, soldiers checking bodies and counting smears of smoke and burned flesh on the ground.

“Fifteen,” said Gal-Eth.

“That’s fifteen too many.” Zor-El looked ahead of him at the government palace. General Zod would be inside. All of them had their weapons drawn as they pushed into the imposing building.

But as the victorious rebels marched into Zod’s throne room, Zor-El saw his brother holding Lara, paying no attention to the faint shouts of the three prisoners trapped inside their small dome.

Despite their exhaustion, Zor-El and
his rebels spent many hours interviewing the prisoners who had been herded into separate containment domes. They winnowed out the armored Sapphire Guards and the remaining Ring of Strength members, keeping them under a separate prison dome as the most dangerous captives.

Other hapless citizens insisted they had meant only to help in the wake of the Kandor disaster. They had come under Zod’s spell, plunging one step after another down a slippery slope. Artisans, builders, civil engineers, people of all classes had just wanted to do the right thing.

In the aftermath, the people of Kryptonopolis reviled General Zod’s actions. Torn blue armbands littered the ground, still showing Zod’s family crest. Soldiers discarded the military uniforms the General had forced them to wear; they piled the garments in great mounds in the Square of Hope and set them alight in large bonfires. All of the former city leaders who had bent their knees and submitted to Zod abdicated in shame.

Inside the throne room Zod, Aethyr, and Nam-Ek remained trapped in their hemispherical bubble, irate and totally helpless. In addition to Koll-Em, two Ring members had been killed during the fighting. Jor-El spoke on No-Ton’s behalf, explaining how the man had alerted him to the Rao-beam attack on Borga City and how he had subtly resisted the General in numerous ways. The remaining twelve were placed in restraints and brought forward, heads bowed, so they could observe their General in his total defeat.

Before any sort of trial could begin, however, before the Ring members could plead their cases, beg for mercy, or snarl justifications, Jor-El and Lara made a chilling discovery.

Inside the government palace, Lara turned in slow circles, studying the architecture of Zod’s primary office. Looking at the intersection of walls and using her artist’s spatial perception, she realized that something was wrong. “This wall isn’t where it’s supposed to be, Jor-El. See this load-bearing column here?” She stepped around the weathered statue of Jax-Ur’s kneeling victim and studied the perfectly interlocking wall blocks. “He’s hidden something behind here. There must be a latch or a lock.”

Already dreading what they might find, Jor-El tested the panel, listened for sounds of resonance, then returned to Zod’s desk. With his arrogant confidence, the General would not have worried about being discovered in his own office. He would have made the controls easily accessible.

Inside one of the drawer panels, Jor-El located a small set of crystals, one of which caused the stone-block wall to slide aside to reveal a staircase that led down to a deep vault. He and Lara looked at each other, neither convinced that they wanted to see what Zod had hidden, but both knowing they had to go down there.

Though she was in the last few weeks of her pregnancy, Lara still moved with an agility that allowed her to keep up with him. At the bottom, they found a dimly lit set of chambers with thick walls and numerous alcoves, stands, cases, and sealed chests. The objects were arrayed like exhibits in a museum.

Jor-El recognized a handheld device—a reflective scrambler that could block incoming communications, effectively preventing anyone from sending a message. He himself had invented the device years ago, but the Commission for Technology Acceptance had banned it. Just another one of the inventions that Zod had kept for himself.

With widening eyes, Jor-El went to the next display deck and found the original plans for the Rao-beam generator, then rocket engine designs, satellite launchers, thrust enhancers, heat concentrators. Jor-El wondered how often Zod had censored scientific work for the express purpose of keeping it for his own private arsenal.

“I should have ignored the Commission, never brought any of my inventions to Zod.” His throat was dry, and his eyes burned. “Damn the old Council and its foolish rules!”

Lara had moved out of view into a small side chamber. Her voice shook when she called out. “Jor-El, you’d better come in here. You need to see this.”

In a small room of its own, Jor-El saw the greatest secret that General Zod had been hiding. Along with a complete control console studded with crystalline rods, a silver-ringed frame hovered in the center of the room, holding open the singularity Jor-El had created.

The Phantom Zone.

And in the flat opening between dimensions, he saw hundreds of despairing faces crowded against one another, flattened and overlapping. Their open mouths shouted. Their eyes pleaded.

He didn’t need to recognize any of the faces to know who they were. “So this is what happened to anyone who spoke out against Zod.”

Some of the more vehement dissidents had probably been killed outright—he guessed the brutal work of Nam-Ek there—but the Commissioner would have considered the Phantom Zone to be a much neater, more satisfying way to dispose of his enemies.

Jor-El froze, feeling his anger increase even further. “We have to get them all out of there.”

When the imprisoned faces spotted the two of them, their expressions changed as they begged, but the dimensional barrier muted all sound. Jor-El went to the control console and raised his hand, trying to reassure the trapped ones.

“I’ll help you release them.” Lara’s lips quirked in a smile. “I’ve done this before, remember?”

On the control panel, he changed the polarity of the crystals so that the glowing red shards became green. Amber shifted to white, reversing the flow into the Phantom Zone and releasing the first prisoner. As if he’d been ejected from the other universe, a man spilled out of the vertical, flat circle, so weak he collapsed to his knees. Trembling and unable to speak, he looked at Lara and Jor-El with haunted eyes. Lara helped him up.

Jor-El recognized the man as Tyr-Us, son of the old Council Head Jul-Us, and a friend of Zor-El’s. He had vanished under mysterious circumstances.

The remaining faces continued to clamor in total silence while Jor-El worked the control crystals. A second man, balding with a long walrus mustache, collapsed onto the stone floor. His eyes looked sunken and hollow. Gil-Ex. “We’ve spent…an eternity in there. It’s Zod. Do not trust Zod!”

“No one needs to worry about Zod anymore.”

Jor-El continued to release prisoners from the Phantom Zone. One after another, they emerged, terrified, breathless, and glad to be freed from the maddening dimension. Dozens of those who had tried to issue warnings against Zod, those who had complained about his policies…those who had supposedly “retired from public view.”

The last to emerge was a servant named Hopk-Ins who had worked in the halls of the Commission building in Kandor—the first person Zod had exiled to the Phantom Zone, just on a whim.

One by one, the rescued people staggered up the stone steps, out of the dim museum chamber, and into the fresh air and warm red sunshine, emerging to a whole new Krypton.

General Zod seethed inside the
transparent prison. Together, defeated, he and his companions stared through the impenetrable dome at the accusers who paraded through the government palace—
his
government palace. They had tricked him, brought him down, and Jor-El had betrayed him most of all.

The people eyed him with expressions of lingering fear, disgust, even hatred. The hatred puzzled him most. He was, after all, the savior of Krypton.

“I feel like an animal in a zoo, on display for foolish visitors to gawk at,” he said to Aethyr. “Maybe it was merciful for the Butcher of Kandor to slaughter all those animals.” Nam-Ek flashed him a startled glance.

“Unlike the Butcher of Kandor, these people will never have the nerve to take any definite action,” Aethyr said. “They’ll debate us and study us for years.”

“And all the while, we will be trapped here.” Zod’s whole body trembled with the effort of containing his emotions. He wanted to shout at them, but that would only entertain the watchers and make him appear weak. He did not intend to appear weak.

Nam-Ek, though, had no such self-control. Every hour or so he let out a wordless roar and pummeled his fists uselessly against the dome shield. A few in the audience chamber glanced up at the disturbance. Several were embarrassed; others simply ignored him. Two officials smiled confidently at the force field, then went about their business.

Zod wanted to kill them all.

One by one, as if wrestling with their fears, the dissenters who had been imprisoned within the Phantom Zone came to glare at the General. Puffed with bravado (since he was caged), they railed at him, cursed him. At first he laughed at their ridiculous posturing. Eventually he ignored them.

Zod paced the cell like a prowling predator. Aethyr watched him, her lips curled. Now that they had been arrested and he could offer her nothing, Zod wondered if she would still love him. What if this woman had simply agreed to be his consort because of the mantle of power he wore?

But Aethyr did not denounce him.

Several times, their captors had expanded the dome to encompass a few small amenities. They had food, water, a bucket, and little else. There were no tools Zod could use to plan an escape. He had only his own voice and powerful personality to influence his captors. At one time, that might have been sufficient, but not anymore.

He deserved reverence, not humiliation, after what he had accomplished for Krypton. No one else would have taken the necessary actions after the loss of Kandor. History would prove that he had saved his race from their own indecisive helplessness. He had done what was right, had nearly reached the pinnacle of achievement—when it all came crashing down. If he had made any bad decisions, he would not admit to them.

Keeping Kryptonopolis as a provisional capital, the people scrambled to form a new government…or, more likely, rehash the old one. The bumbling leaders were looking to precedents that had already proved weak and useless. Gil-Ex and Tyr-Us talked openly about forming a new Council, just like the old one in Kandor. Apparently, during their time inside the Phantom Zone, their delusions had grown. They remembered nothing. Idiots!

Zod vindictively hoped that some outside invader would attack Krypton right now, just to prove him right. After all,
he
was perfectly safe under this protective dome….

After two days of turmoil, the provisional government announced the beginning of Zod’s trial. The General stood straight, clasped his hands behind his back, and raised his voice to be heard through the humming shield. “You have given me no time to prepare. I must have counsel. I must have access to my accusers. This goes against the laws of Krypton.”

“We
are
the new Kryptonian law,” said Gil-Ex, still looking ridiculous with his long mustache and his glistening pate. “You’ve had enough time to contemplate your crimes. Plead your case, beg forgiveness if you wish. No one doubts your ability to speak articulately.”

Aethyr gave a bitter laugh. “Oh? And what about Nam-Ek? He hasn’t spoken a word since he was a child.”

The members of the provisional government looked flustered at that. Zod knew these men would do whatever they wished to do. He didn’t press the matter.

Large filmplates were set up around the force-field enclosure, and Zod knew that this spectacle would be transmitted to viewers across all of Krypton. How the weak masses relished seeing a mighty man fall.

His accusers came forward one at a time. First Gil-Ex described how, after he had spoken out at the construction camp of old Xan City, Zod had asked for a private discussion. But Nam-Ek had seized him in the tent, and the two had thrown Gil-Ex into the Phantom Zone. “An awful place! No light, no movement, no heat or cold. I didn’t even have an existence.” His face flushed red. “It was just empty silence except for the other prisoners trapped there, all of us disembodied.”

Tyr-Us spoke next, trembling as he explained how Zod’s secret minions had hunted him for weeks. Having sought help from Zor-El and other like-minded critics, he tried to find safety, but had finally been captured in Yar-El’s empty dacha. He, too, had been thrown into the Phantom Zone.

No-Ton discussed in a stuttering voice how he’d been forced to help blast Borga City with the Rao beam and then modify the nova javelins, which had almost destroyed the planet. Next came the bent-backed and scrawny servant Hopk-Ins, who sobbed as he told the story of Zod using him to test the Phantom Zone.

General Zod quickly became deaf to their string of complaints, the whining, the pathetic calls for sympathy. He closed his eyes to their pitiful expressions as they recounted their ordeals. The accusations droned on in an endless litany.

Zor-El showed images of the abortive attack on Argo City. Lara described how she had been imprisoned, both to coerce her husband’s help and because she’d written the truth in her journal.

Finally, Jor-El stepped forward and fixed his eyes on Zod’s. Before the scientist could speak, Zod shouted at him, “Are you their puppet now, Jor-El? Have they offered you a position on the new Council? Was that what you wanted all along? Political power?”

Jor-El seemed surprised. “Political power? Hardly. I merely wanted to save Krypton, even as you did your best to destroy it.” With a proud and wise demeanor, he turned to face the men who acted as judges. “Yes, Zod did all the terrible things you’ve heard in other testimony. He seized power in our time of greatest need, and he maintained the state of emergency to keep his followers close. He should have let Krypton settle back into a normal rule of law and government.”

“You are just as much to blame, Jor-El.” Zod could not keep the smugness from his voice. “
You
built the Rao beam that destroyed Borga City.
Your
weapon designs armed my entire military.
You
repaired the nova javelins so they could be launched.
You
created the Phantom Zone, where so many political prisoners were held. Without you, I could never have wielded such power.”

From behind the force-field barrier, he watched the scientist’s flustered expression, but Jor-El did not back down. “Your Commission warned that even simple inventions could be corrupted and misused by an evil man. That evil man was
you,
Zod.” He turned back to the group of glaring judges, many of whom now seemed to regard him with uneasy suspicion. “Under the auspices of his Commission, Zod banned technologies that would have helped Krypton, while hoarding the designs for himself. He stole my inventions, corrupted advances that should have benefited everyone, and developed weapons that he turned against his own people.”

From inside the dome, Zod shook his head. How he despised the man and his revisionist view of events. Instead of shouting further, General Zod clamped his lips together and waited. He was painfully reminded that Jax-Ur, too, had been defeated by the disloyalty of a trusted companion. He took no satisfaction from the historical parallel.
Damn Jor-El!

Not surprisingly, the ruling of the provisional Council was unanimous. When his sentence was read, Zod didn’t even need to hear it. He spoke through the shimmering barrier. “These other men are fools, Jor-El, and I expected nothing else from them. But
you
—you have truly betrayed me.”

Jor-El didn’t even look at him. He spoke to the judges. “I, too, cast my vote against Zod. He will always be a threat to Krypton.”

“You could have saved yourself considerable time,” Aethyr snapped at the gathered judges. “You knew what you would conclude before the proceedings began. You didn’t even allow us to speak in our own defense.”

Tyr-Us looked brave now that Zod was safely bottled up. He raised his chin. “And what do you wish to say? How can you defend your heinous actions?”

Zod silenced Aethyr with an abrupt wave. “Give them no further sport.”

Korth-Or took one step closer to the dome. He was still simmering with accusations, still seeing the holocaust of when his Borga City had been destroyed. “Aethyr-Ka, do you still wish to stand with General Zod?”

“Do not use my family name! They were dead to me long before they vanished with Kandor.” She stepped to the edge of the shimmering field. “Yes, I stand with General Zod.”

“And you, Nam-Ek.” Or-Om sounded compassionate. “You were a mere pawn in these actions. We believe you are mentally flawed. We can perhaps find some leniency if you will renounce Zod. Signify by nodding or shaking your head.”

Nam-Ek was incensed by the very suggestion. He balled his fists and shook his head vigorously.

The leaders of the new government stood together as Gil-Ex announced in a booming voice, “General Zod, there is no more fitting punishment than for you to be confined permanently within the Phantom Zone. There, you will forever endure the torment that you forced upon us.”

Zod did not give them the satisfaction of a defiant retort. Armored soldiers came forward, muscular men who had replaced the Sapphire Guards. They surrounded the small imprisoning dome. A crew of anxious-looking workers brought the silver ring out of the museum chamber.

Despite his proud demeanor and unshakable strength, Zod felt a chill. He wished Aethyr and Nam-Ek had indeed renounced him, so they wouldn’t have to suffer the same fate.

From where he stood Zor-El activated the force-field controls, and the small dome disappeared. Briefly freed, Nam-Ek was ready to hurl himself upon the guards and perhaps die in a hopeless attempt at escape. But General Zod touched the big man’s arm and shook his head. The mute relaxed, complying with his master’s wishes, as always.

Gal-Eth said, “Take one last breath of Kryptonian air. Smell the sweetness of freedom that you are leaving behind.”

Zod spat at them.

He glared out at the crowd, focusing his anger on the one person he hated the most. “Jor-El, we could have saved Krypton. We could have led these people out of their own stupidity, but you betrayed me. You betrayed
them
! You doomed them all! I could have made this into a world that my father would have admired, but you and all future generations will pay for your shortsightedness. This is on your head, Jor-El—your conscience! I curse you for that. I curse you and all your descendants!”

Jor-El stood coolly, as if he were actually
proud
of what he had done, and he made no reply.

Ignoring his rant, the guards took Aethyr by the arms. When she struggled, they seized her legs as well and carried her bodily toward the silver frame that enclosed absolute emptiness. Zod grew wild, feeling the last shreds of his long-cultivated control slough away. “No!”

They threw Aethyr into the blank plane, and she vanished instantly, to become only a flat disembodied face filling the Zone.

Next, it took five men to push Nam-Ek into the singularity.

Finally, the guards came for Zod. With every fiber of his being he wanted to fight, to scream and shout and not allow these hated people a moment of victory. However, he knew he could not escape the guards, the howling mob. Even if he broke away, they would hunt him and kill him like an animal. And if he kicked and thrashed, forcing them to pick him up bodily and throw him into the Phantom Zone, he would only appear childish. Humiliated and worse—
impotent
. He was Zod,
General
Zod, and he could never allow himself to look powerless, especially in front of these people whom he despised.

By taking control of the situation, he placed himself in charge for one last time. Better yet, he snatched the power and authority from these weaklings who had betrayed and defeated him. He had only one possible option, and Zod vowed to do this on his own terms. His own terms! Let historians record this ending with awe!

Unexpectedly, he spun and broke away. Rather than allow his enemies to touch him, not accepting
their
punishment, he had only one place to go. With a last glare of hatred directed toward Jor-El, General Zod dove headfirst through the silver rings.

He heard surprised and outraged shouts from the throne room…until absolute, infinite nothingness swallowed him up.