The Last Days of Krypton (37 page)

In the middle of the
Square of Hope the broken statue of Zod lay like a stone corpse covered with dark fabrics. The provisional Council would soon find some way to dispose of it permanently. The public would not feel satisfied until the offensive relic was destroyed.

In their wild and relieved celebrations, the people also turned their anger against any reminders of the old dictatorship. Individual vandals, as well as larger mobs, targeted other examples of civic artwork Zod had commissioned. Lara was helpless to prevent them from defacing the intricate mosaics, sculpture walls, and elaborate murals she had so meticulously designed.

“Stop this desecration!” She tried to push her way to the largest mural wall, moving awkwardly because of her pregnancy. “It’s
art
!”

“It’s propaganda for Zod—and we have had enough of that,” someone snarled at her.

“Propaganda? Just
look
at it—what’s left of it!” But they refused to accept that even the most straightforward images did not contain subliminal ideas in support of the overthrown government. Her words went unheeded, and the rampant destruction continued.

Offended on her behalf, Jor-El demanded to speak with Tyr-Us, who seemed to be in charge of the provisional government, but the man made obvious excuses not to see him. The scientist finally barged in, appointment or no appointment. “Why would you let vandals destroy my wife’s artwork? They’re scenes from
history
. Lara designed them herself—”

“But Zod commissioned them,” Tyr-Us answered impatiently. “We want no leftover reminders of that regime. Can you blame the people? It’s better to simply start fresh. If your wife would like to submit alternative designs to our cultural committee, she is welcome to do so.” He seemed to think he was doing her a favor. “However, we have many eager craftsmen who wish to contribute. Your wife may have been General Zod’s pet artist, but she will be on equal footing with the rest of our people from now on.”

Jor-El stiffened. “Why would you punish Lara? I don’t understand your attitude at all. We are only trying to help—”

“Really?” The man seemed on the verge of saying much more, but then insisted that Jor-El leave. “I have more important things to do than listen to your complaints.”

Striding through the streets, Jor-El next encountered Gil-Ex surrounded by a group of advisers. The advisers looked up, startled, when the white-haired scientist stepped forward. “Gil-Ex, who should I speak to about all the technologies Zod hid in his secret chamber? Krypton might still benefit, but only if someone with the proper vision applies those theories in a constructive way. I could be of ser vice on such a committee.”

Gil-Ex was surprisingly cool. His bald pate flushed pink, and the tips of his long mustache quivered. “That won’t be necessary. We have others to perform that task.”

“But who would be better suited?”

“Someone who wasn’t the righthand man of General Zod.”

For a moment, Jor-El was speechless. “I helped overthrow Zod. Without me, you would still be inside the Phantom Zone.”

Gil-Ex cut him off. “Without
you,
the Phantom Zone would never have been created in the first place.”

The remaining pieces fell together for Jor-El, and now he saw why members of the provisional government were rebuffing him. “Thank you for your time,” he said in a clipped voice and stalked away. Though he didn’t turn around, he could sense Gil-Ex and his advisers watching him.

Lara was infuriated when he told her what had happened. “They’re distorting history! That’s exactly the sort of thing Zod wanted me to do—and I refused! How can the new Council
want
to make the same errors? They’re as bad as the General himself.”

Jor-El shook his head. “They will never see it, and you gain nothing by making such claims.” As he sensed the direction the political winds were blowing, he realized that he himself might end up being a scapegoat. “They want our world to be exactly as it was before the loss of Kandor, but they’ve forgotten that the old Krypton wasn’t perfect by any means. I thought we would have learned something from all that has happened.”

After so many nightmarish months,
Jor-El wished he could just go home to his peaceful estate, pursue his own interests, and wait for the birth of his son. It wouldn’t be long now.

Lara couldn’t agree with him more. “I want our baby to be born in the manor house.”

But with the new government being formed, Jor-El could not simply abandon the people and leave the course of Krypton’s future to chance. He wanted to make certain the new leaders learned from their mistakes and did not fall into the backward thinking of the old Council. He suspected that the provisional government was already stumbling down the wrong path.

He’d had no interest in politics before, but now he had a chance to change the direction of society. Despite his reservations, he was willing to become a guiding force so that Krypton would look ahead, explore the universe, and become part of galactic society, just as Donodon had invited them to do.

In the sky overhead, Rao continued to swell and churn, erupting with more spectacular flares than had been recorded in centuries. The turbulent red sun concerned him, and it had been far too long since he’d sent up a solar-probe rocket. Perhaps he could convince the new leaders to take long-term action and prepare for Rao’s eventual demise. He had already shown his proposed arkship plans to No-Ton, and the other scientist had gone wide-eyed at the very prospect of evacuating an entire planet.

Two days later, inside the refurbished government palace, Lara sat with him in the front row as the provisional government met to formally establish a new Council, choosing representatives from cities across the continent. Tyr-Us sat at the head of a long table with ten empty chairs. He acted as the de facto head of the proceedings and seemed to accept his role as a matter of course. He was the son of old Jul-Us, and he had suffered greatly for standing up to Zod. Jor-El knew the others would find the man comforting.

Because of his ordeal in the Phantom Zone and his track record of being one of Zod’s first and most outspoken detractors, Gil-Ex also accepted a seat. In what was almost certainly a measure of sympathy for their similar suffering, four more of the prominent dissidents recently released from the Phantom Zone were also elected. As their names were called, the four came forward to take empty chairs at the Council table.

For their parts in the great battle that had overthrown Zod, Or-Om, Korth-Or, and Gal-Eth also accepted seats on the new Council. Jor-El was surprised when they offered the next seat to No-Ton. Though he was a former member of Zod’s Ring of Strength, they found the other scientist acceptable because of his “notable resistance to the General’s dangerous orders.” No-Ton didn’t seem to have expected the appointment, either.

“And for our last seat on the new Council, we are proud to nominate Zor-El from Argo City,” Tyr-Us said. Although he was glad for his brother, Jor-El was perplexed and concerned that they had brushed him aside.

Zor-El stood from his bench in the speaking hall, his face etched in deep thought. He held his left arm out in front of him, contemplating the burn scars there. “I have had experience with the cumbersome nature of the old Council. By requiring that even the simplest votes be decided by consensus rather than a simple majority, many important—if controversial—matters died without resolution. We can no longer run Krypton this way. You all know it.” He looked around the gathered representatives and nominees.

Gal-Eth grumbled, then nodded his head. “Dramatic change has been forced upon us. We may as well make the best of it.”

Or-Om, the mining industrialist, gave a brief and loud burst of applause. “I agree. If I ran my companies the way the old Council ran Kandor, I’d never get anything done. Let’s make a change for the better.”

“I propose that decisions be made by a simple majority on the new Council,” said Korth-Or. “It’s the only way we can move forward.”

Tyr-Us frowned as if the very idea of such a major shift pained him, but he saw the mood in the room and grudgingly nodded. “Are there objections?” No one raised any issues. “So that decision, at least, is unanimous. A simple majority, six votes out of eleven, will decide matters under debate. Now, Zor-El, please join us at the Council table so that we can begin our first session.”

The dark-haired man flashed his brother a mischievous smile. “But I did not accept the position you offered, Tyr-Us. Argo City is more than one man could wish to rule—at least this man. Now that the protective dome has been deactivated, I have five bridges to rebuild, along with agricultural fields that were trampled by Zod’s army, and a whole sea-harvesting industry to restore. Thus, I regretfully decline.”

The new Council members could not have been more surprised. After a moment of uproar from the table and the audience, Zor-El shouted until they listened to him. “But I nominate my brother, Jor-El, to take my place. No one has done more for Krypton in the past tumultuous year than he has. You should have granted him the very first seat on the new Council.”

Jor-El felt a wash of gratitude. Everyone in the audience was looking at him.

Then he was completely taken aback by Tyr-Us’s venomous reaction. “Impossible! Jor-El collaborated with our greatest enemy. He provided General Zod with terrible weapons. You all heard Zod during his trial—without Jor-El, that evil dictator would never have come to power.”

Gil-Ex interrupted the tirade with one of his own. “Jor-El created the Phantom Zone, where so many of us were trapped. None of us can forget that! For that one act alone, he should never be forgiven.”

“And he built the Rao beam that destroyed Borga City, slaughtering hundreds of thousands of innocents!” said another one of the former Phantom Zone prisoners on the Council. “You assisted him, Zor-El, but that vile invention was his own creation, was it not?”

Or-Om added in a low voice, “As I recall, wasn’t he also responsible for the death of the alien visitor in the first place? That’s what set in motion this whole chain of events.”

“Brainiac stealing the city of Kandor—” Tyr-Us began, his face red.

No-Ton interrupted, his voice sounding nervous. “Excuse me, but you can’t blame Jor-El for that. Donodon’s race had nothing to do with the arrival of Brainiac.”

“Can we be sure of that? Zod is the only one who told the story. Who can believe anything he said?”

Zor-El shook his head. “Already you prove my case. If I had any doubts about declining your invitation to join this Council, you have just dispelled them all. Are you delusional? Have you forgotten—”

But Jor-El rose slowly to his feet, gesturing his brother to silence. “I can speak for myself, Zor-El.” He turned to face the Council table, with its prominently empty chair. He took a step closer. “Yes, I was there at the beginning, and I cooperated with Commissioner Zod to save the people at Kandor.” Feeling heat flood his face, he stared at the ten seated members one at a time. “Where were the rest of you? Any of you? Kandor was
gone,
our planet was under threat of another alien attack, and Zod was trying to save people and defend Krypton. Of course I helped him! Many good citizens came to offer aid in whatever ways they could.

“Donodon was my friend, and his death was an accident. Or maybe not entirely an accident—I found evidence that Zod himself may have been responsible for the explosion.”

“For what possible reason would he do that?” said Gil-Ex in a scornful voice.

“To throw the old Council into a panic so that he could more easily seize power.” Jor-El began to address their other accusations, one by one. “Yes, the Rao beam was my own invention. My brother and I used it to relieve the pressure in our planet’s core. I could not prevent Zod from seizing it as a terrible weapon, but I did sabotage the Rao-beam generator and stop him from ever doing it again. Where were the rest of you?

“Because I could not make Zod see the threat of the oncoming comet, I reprogrammed the nova javelins to destroy Loth-Ur’s Hammer, rather than Argo City or any other city on Krypton. Thus, I saved our planet yet again.” He found he was shaking with anger. “And still you doubt my motives?
I
am the one who brought about General Zod’s downfall. I set the trap to imprison him in a force field, allowing the rest of you to take Kryptonopolis.” He let the moment of silence hang and then said, “Therefore, I accept the nomination to become a member of the new Council. I will continue to devote myself to the betterment of Krypton. As I have always done.”

Zor-El applauded as his brother walked defiantly toward the last empty seat at the Council table. No-Ton also clapped, and a smattering of applause rippled through the audience. Or-Om, Gal-Eth, and Korth-Or, who had accompanied Zor-El on his march against Kryptonopolis, shrugged and also agreed.

Tyr-Us and Gil-Ex looked decidedly uncomfortable as the ivory-haired scientist sat at the long table. Finally the new head announced, “Very well, this Council is in session.”

The day after the new
government was formed, Zor-El bid farewell to his brother and Lara. Jor-El said, “Are you sure you won’t stay with us until the baby is born? You’d be perfectly welcome back at the estate, far from all this turmoil.”

“That’s more tempting than an offer to sit on the new Council, but I must decline.” He let out a good-natured sigh. “Our father asked us to have children, remember? How am I ever going to have a son or a daughter if I never spend time with my wife?”

Jor-El laughed. “I trust that’s a scientific problem you can solve for yourself.”

When the Council called its first official meeting, all the people of Kryptonopolis were encouraged to attend in person, or to watch the proceedings projected on the facets of the giant crystal towers, to which Jor-El and No-Ton had restored power.

Determined, Jor-El took his seat at the end of the long table, though he still felt awkward and unwelcome there. At least half of the Council members looked askance at him, especially those who had been imprisoned in the Phantom Zone. He could understand their resentment: His own ordeal in that empty dimension had been extremely disorienting and unpleasant, and he had been trapped there only a few hours. These others had been lost in the void for months.

And General Zod would spend the rest of eternity on the other side of the singularity. Zod was the one to blame, not Jor-El.

Lara arrived early enough to get one of the front seats so that she could see her husband. Even with her extremely rounded abdomen, she remained graceful and beautiful, though the hard bench seemed uncomfortable for her. Giving him an encouraging smile, she squirmed to find a better position.

Jor-El had already requested a leave of absence from official business so that he could take Lara away to the estate. She was due very soon, and the doctor, Kirana-Tu, had offered to be available for the delivery.

Jor-El realized he hadn’t even been given an agenda for this session, but Tyr-Us began the meeting, sounding ponderous. “To take the first step forward for a new Krypton, we must sweep away the ashes of the past.” He looked around him. “Five members and I propose a symbolic gesture, but symbols are important. The Phantom Zone is a dangerous object, and it must be destroyed so that it is never misused again.” He seemed very pleased. “Six of us have already held a vote, and so we carry a majority.” He looked over at No-Ton, Or-Om, Korth-Or, Gal-Eth, and Jor-El. “We would, however, be pleased if the decision were unanimous.”

The others were taken aback, even affronted at the sudden blatant partisanship. “How can we vote?” cried Korth-Or. “We haven’t even heard your proposal yet!”

“This is not the way our business should be conducted,” Gal-Eth said in a more cautious voice. Even in the audience, muttering could be heard.

Gil-Ex looked very satisfied with himself. “Previously, Council business required all eleven votes to be carried. Now, because of the motion introduced by Zor-El and approved unanimously, we need only six votes.”

Tyr-Us said, “We have much business to complete, and we felt this was a swift and efficient way to proceed rather than waste time in debate when we already had the votes necessary.”

Jor-El was greatly disturbed, not just because of the obvious political machinations but because of their misconceptions about the underlying science. The Council members didn’t understand what they were suggesting or how to implement it. He looked down the table to face the others. “Excuse me, but no matter how many votes you manage to find, the Phantom Zone
can’t
be destroyed.”

Gil-Ex shouted him down with surprising vitriol. “We’ve had enough of your corrupted technologies, Jor-El. You can’t change our minds.”

“Wiping out the Phantom Zone—
your
Phantom Zone—is the only way we can restore hope,” Tyr-Us added, only slightly calmer. “This act will also guarantee that Zod and his cronies never escape.”

Jor-El shook his head, not rising to the level of insults. “I didn’t advise against it. I’m simply stating a fact: The Phantom Zone is a stable singularity, a hole into another universe. It cannot be destroyed, no matter how much you may want to do so.”

The audience members began to grumble. “Thank you for your insight, Jor-El,” Gil-Ex said, his voice like ice. “But I’m certain we can find a way. We don’t need your help.”

“The vote has already been carried,” added one of the former Phantom Zone prisoners. “Time for the next item of discussion.”

Sighing, Jor-El saw that he would not win the argument. Sadly, he realized that this would likely be how the new Council often conducted business. He turned toward Lara, searching for a friendly face—and was astonished to see her hunched over, her face clenched in pain. Both of her arms were wrapped around her stomach.

He jumped to his feet from behind the table. “Lara, what is it?”

She tried to reassure him with a smile, which didn’t convince him at all. “The baby. Labor contractions.”

He hurried around the table to the first row of seats, not caring that he caused a disturbance. Tyr-Us called for order in a scolding voice. Jor-El grabbed his wife’s arm. “We’ve got to get you out of here. I’ll find the doctor.”

“Don’t…overreact.” She clamped her teeth together and sucked in a quick, hissing breath. “I’m sure we have time. But you’d better get me to the estate soon.”

Forgetting about the stubborn Council, ignoring the looks and the whispered comments from others in the benches, Jor-El ushered his wife out of the chamber. The meeting would have to continue without him. At the moment, he had far more important concerns.

It was the happiest moment in her life and the perfect ending to a long dark string of events. The birth of a baby son, healthy and strong.

Once back inside the manor house, Lara retired to their bedchamber as her labor progressed. The female doctor hovered inside the room during Lara’s hours of contractions. Jor-El held his wife’s hand the whole time.

Afterward, though Lara was exhausted and drained, her amber hair streaked against her face with perspiration, Kirana-Tu insisted it was a relatively easy delivery. “So typical, you barely needed me here.” Lara lay back in the bed and held her baby in the crook of her arm, biting back several choice comments for the humorless doctor.

Jor-El’s chef had returned from serving the masses in Kryptonopolis, clearly disgusted with how his master had been treated by the Council. Fro-Da wanted to settle down at the estate again, where he could worry about nothing of greater consequence than his sauces, braised meats, roasted vegetables, and spiced fruits. To do his part for Lara, he had studied traditional records and developed a special fortified soup that would help the new mother regain her strength.

The next morning, Lara insisted she needed fresh air. Holding the baby, Jor-El walked slowly with her out to the open porch where she could smell the fragrant breezes and look out over the flowers, the fresh-cut purple lawn, and the splashing fountains. Resting in a comfortable chair, she cradled the infant in her arms. He was wrapped in a red and blue blanket sent to them by Charys from Yar-El’s old possessions.

Jor-El stared in wonder at the little boy’s face. “After so many astonishing events, I never imagined that the high point of my life would come so unexpectedly.”

“Unexpected? You’ve known for almost nine months you were going to be a father.”

“But I didn’t know it would feel like this. Before, it was always a theoretical proposition.”

“You and your theories, Jor-El,” she teased.

“But this one has struck me here.” He put a hand to the center of his chest. “I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t need to explain it. Just
feel
it. That’s what I’ve been trying to show you all along.”

He gave her a bittersweet but satisfied smile. “I vowed that our son would be raised in a better world, and I intend to keep that promise. I’ll see that our boy reveres truth and justice.”

The infant’s blue eyes were open and clear, and Lara was sure he was studying his parents. She wondered if he would remember this moment.

“Truth and justice,” Lara mused. “Remember the obelisks, the paintings I made to symbolize the most important facets of our race?”

“Yes, you used Kal-Ik to symbolize truth and justice. I felt a lot like him when I stood up to Zod.” Jor-El looked at her, and they were both considering the same thing. “So you think Kal is a good name?”

“I think it’s a perfect name for our son.
Kal-El.
”

“Who am I to disagree?” He bent down and kissed the baby. He had dark hair, with a small but persistent curl at his forehead. “Welcome to the world, Kal-El.”

Giving his wife a tender kiss, he took little Kal in his arms and held him.