Part 1 (1/2)

The Last Days of Krypton.

by Kevin J. Anderson.

To Julius Schwartz

I've always considered Julius Schwartz, or ”Julie,” as his friends called him, to be Superman's ”fairy G.o.dfather.” He worked for DC Comics for forty-two years and edited the line of Superman comics from 1971 through 1985, and after that he was a fixture at many conventions and gatherings. Years ago he gave me a gold Superman ”S” pin at the San Diego Comic Con, and then when he saw me again months later he scolded me severely for not wearing it. I certainly learned my lesson, and I made a point of wearing that gold pin at every convention where our paths crossed (and he made a point of tracking me down to make sure I was). Julie died in 2004. Since I can't give him a signed copy of The Last Days of Krypton The Last Days of Krypton, I can at least put his name here. Thanks for everything, Julie!

FOREWORD.

Science fiction fandom began in the 1930s, and two such fans were Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the former a writer, the latter an artist. From their singular pa.s.sion came the ultimate science fiction creation, Superman, the 1930s, and two such fans were Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster, the former a writer, the latter an artist. From their singular pa.s.sion came the ultimate science fiction creation, Superman, that strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond... that strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond... No reason to continue; you know the rest. No reason to continue; you know the rest. Everyone Everyone knows the rest. knows the rest.

Superman was born out of a love for science fiction, so it should be no surprise that the story of Krypton, Superman's doomed home planet, would be trusted to Kevin J. Anderson, one of the best science fiction writers working today.

Kevin was given a task as daunting as any of Superman's legendary deeds. He had to put together a history of a world that over the past sixty-eight years has had countless conflicting stories created for it. Did Krypton die of an earthquake? Or did a comet hit it? Or maybe the sun went nova and destroyed it in its burning wake? What were Krypton's people like? Were they benevolent, self-indulgent, emotionless, or loving? And what about Brainiac...what about Argo City...what about...what about...?

These are questions that have been asked and answered by millions of fans many, many times.

But now it is time for a new story that brings those diverse histories together, yet forges its own path. We all know Krypton's outcome, but Kevin gives us a new, thrilling tale unlike any we've seen before. It is both familiar and surprising.

Re-creating a rich, real, complex history out of such convoluted lack of continuity is an undertaking I would never have wanted to do. But Kevin did and succeeded, and he has now given us a history of a world most of us grew up knowing and caring for. And somehow, with that same flash of inspiration Siegel and Shuster showed when they created Superman all those years ago, he has put it all together in an extremely fast-paced book that has something something for every fan of Superman, no matter which era they love, which Krypton they grew up with, which Superman they idolize. for every fan of Superman, no matter which era they love, which Krypton they grew up with, which Superman they idolize.

-Marv Wolfman, author of Crisis on Infinite Earths, Crisis on Infinite Earths, writer/creator of New Teen t.i.tans New Teen t.i.tans and and Blade the Vampire Hunter Blade the Vampire Hunter

CHAPTER 1.

The red sun of Krypton loomed in the sky, an unquiet giant. In its gaseous layers, planet-sized convection cells churned like the bubbles in a h.e.l.lish slow-motion cauldron. Wispy coronal streamers danced across the gulf of s.p.a.ce, disrupting planetary communications. loomed in the sky, an unquiet giant. In its gaseous layers, planet-sized convection cells churned like the bubbles in a h.e.l.lish slow-motion cauldron. Wispy coronal streamers danced across the gulf of s.p.a.ce, disrupting planetary communications.

Jor-El had been waiting a long time for a flare storm like this. In his isolated laboratory he had monitored his solar probes, eagerly making preparations. The moment was at hand.

The visionary scientist had set up his equipment in the large, open research building on his estate. Jor-El had no a.s.sistants because no one else on Krypton understood exactly what he was doing; in fact, few others seemed to care. The people of his planet were content. Too content. By contrast, Jor-El rarely let himself feel complacent or satisfied. How could he, when he could easily imagine so many ways to improve the world? He was a true anomaly in the ”perfect society.”

Working alone, he calibrated beam paths through crystal concentrators, used laser-alignment tools to adjust the angles of intersecting reflector disks, checked and double-checked his gleaming prisms for any flaws. Because his work pushed the envelope of standard and uninspired Kryptonian science, he had been forced to develop much of the basic apparatus himself.

When he opened the set of louvered alloy panels in the roof of the research building, scarlet light flooded into the laboratory. Soon, the solar flux would reach the level he required. Keen scientific curiosity gave him more incentive than his awe for the red giant, which the priests had named Rao. He monitored the power levels displayed on flatcrystal gauges.

All the while, the sunlight outside blazed noticeably brighter. The flares continued to build.

Though he was young, Jor-El's distinctive thick hair was as white as bleached ivory, which gave him a regal appearance. The cla.s.sically handsome features of his face looked as if they were modeled directly from the bust of an ancient Kryptonian n.o.bleman, such as his revered ancestor Sor-El. Some might have thought his blue-eyed gaze distant and preoccupied, but in truth, Jor-El saw a great many things that others did not.

He activated his carefully arranged crystal rods, setting up a harmonic melody of wavelengths. On the rooftop, angled sheet-mirrors clashed their reflections into a central concentrating prism. The crystals stole only a precise segment of the spectrum, then diverted the filtered beam into parabolic mirrorpools made of half-transparent quicksilver. As the sunstorm's intensity increased, the quicksilver mirrors began to ripple and bubble.

According to plan, Jor-El quickly withdrew an amber crystal and inserted it into its proper grid point. The slick facets were already hot against his fingertips. The primary beam splintered into a luminous spiderweb that connected the labyrinth of mirrors and crystals.

In moments, if his experiment worked, Jor-El would break open a doorway into another dimension, a parallel universe a parallel universe-maybe even more than one.

The large and lonely estate many kilometers from Kandor suited Jor-El. His research building was as large as a banquet hall. While other Kryptonian families might have used such a s.p.a.ce for masques, feasts, or performances, Jor-El's once-celebrated father had built this entire estate as a celebration of discovery, a place where every question could be investigated regardless of the technophobic restrictions imposed by the Kryptonian Council. Jor-El put these facilities to good use.

For an experiment of this magnitude, he had considered calling his brother from Argo City. Although few could match Jor-El's genius, dark-haired Zor-El, despite his occasional temper, had the same burning need to discover what was yet to be known. In a long-standing cordial rivalry, the two sons of Yar-El often tried to outdo each other. After today, provided this experiment succeeded, he and Zor-El would have a whole new universe to investigate.

Jor-El withdrew another crystal from the control grid, rotated it, and reinserted it. As the lights glowed brighter and the colors intensified, he became entirely engrossed in the phenomena.

Sequestered in their stuffy chambers in the capital city, the eleven-member Kryptonian Council had forbidden the development of any sort of s.p.a.cecraft, effectively eliminating all possibility of exploring the universe. From ancient records, Kryptonians were well aware of other civilizations in the twenty-eight known galaxies, but the restrictive government insisted on keeping their planet separate ”for its own protection.” That rule had been in place for so many generations that most people accepted it as a matter of course.

In spite of this, the mystery of other stars and planets had always intrigued Jor-El. Not one to break the law, no matter how frivolous the restrictions might seem, he was nonetheless willing to find ways around it. They could not prevent him from traveling in his imagination.

Yes, the Council had disallowed the construction of s.p.a.cecraft, but according to Jor-El's calculations, there could be an infinite number of parallel universes, countless alternate Kryptons in which each society might be slightly different. Jor-El could therefore travel in a new way-if only he could open the door to those universes. No s.p.a.cecraft was necessary. Technically, he would not be breaking any rules.

In the center of the s.p.a.cious lab, he set a pair of two-meter-wide silver rings spinning to establish a containment field for the singularity he hoped to create. He monitored the power levels. He waited.

When the intensified solar energy reached its peak, a shaft of collected light plunged through the ceiling lens into the center of Jor-El's laboratory like a shaft of fire. The multiplied beams gathered into a single convergence point, then ricocheted into the very fabric of s.p.a.ce. The focused blast pummeled reality itself and tore open a hole to somewhere else...or nowhere at all.

The silver containment rings intersected, spun faster, and held open a pinp.r.i.c.k that expanded in an equilibrium of energy and negative energy. As blinding light poured into the small speck of emptiness, the rip grew as wide as his hand, then the length of his forearm, until at last it stabilized, two meters in diameter, extending to the edge of the rings.

A circular portal hovered in the middle of the air, perpendicular to the ground...something a curious person could simply walk into. Behind that opening Jor-El knew he might find new worlds to explore, infinite possibilities.

On a pedestal in front of the hovering doorway, the crystal control array glowed hot and intense. To stabilize the volatile system, he pulled out the subsidiary power crystals, then tilted the quicksilver parabolas to deflect the main beam of sunlight. The power dissipated, but the singularity held. The dimensional portal remained open.

Dazzled, Jor-El stepped forward. Many times he had felt the delicious thrill of discovery, the rush of success when an experiment either produced the results he had predicted or, almost as exciting, something wonderfully unexpected. This doorway had the potential to be both.

When the strange portal did not waver, he cautiously slowed the spinning silver rings so that they hung motionless vertically in the air. Though eagerness tempted him to take shortcuts, his a.n.a.lytical mind knew better. He began his testing process.

First, like a child tossing a pebble into a still pond, he found a small stylus on his worktable and gently threw it into the opening. As soon as the slim implement touched the unseen barrier, it winked out, vanis.h.i.+ng entirely and appearing on the other side, in the other universe. Jor-El could barely see a blurred reflection of it floating beyond his reach. But he could see no details of the strange place he had discovered. He ached to see what was there.

Filled with wonder, Jor-El approached the empty gateway. He saw nothing-literally nothing-a bottomless void in the air. He wished he had someone with him. Such a great moment should be shared.

He shouted into the opening. ”Can anyone hear me? Is anybody there?” The portal remained silent, a vacuum that drained all light and sound.

For his next test, Jor-El attached an imaging crystal lens to a telescoping rod that he removed from an unused piece of equipment stored against a wall of the research building. He would carefully extend the imaging crystal through the barrier, allow it to record the surroundings, then withdraw the tool. He would review the images and determine his next step. He would have to test the air, the temperature, the environment in that other universe.

Sooner or later, though, he knew he was destined to explore.

Holding his breath, Jor-El extended the telescoping rod and pushed the imaging crystal into the edge of the void with the slightest, most delicate touch.

Suddenly, as if a great wind had swallowed him whole, he found himself yanked to the other side, sucked through the opening along with the rod and the imaging crystal. In less than a heartbeat, he was nowhere, suspended in a black and empty void-adrift, yet more than adrift, for he could not feel his body. He sensed no gravity, no temperature, no light. He didn't seem to be breathing, didn't need to. He was just a floating ent.i.ty, completely aware and yet completely detached from reality. As if through a dirty window, he caught a glimpse of his own universe.

But he could not get back there.