Part 16 (1/2)

While his thoughts wandered, the ground suddenly began to shake, an ominous tremor building from deep underground. The girders of the partially built telescopes began to sway. Construction machines strained to stabilize themselves while the dirt bucked and heaved. Workers shouted from high scaffolding.

Jor-El grabbed Lara, and they ran out into the open, away from any tall structures. As the shaking reached a crescendo, one of the anch.o.r.ed telescope stalks toppled and crushed a lifting machine as its operator leaped to safety.

When the tremors faded again, Lara brushed herself off, trying not to look shaken. ”Do you know what that was? What caused it?”

His brother's earlier concerns came thundering back to him. ”It's what Zor-El warned us about-science that the Council didn't take seriously.”

CHAPTER 39.

Hoping to secure his power base, Commissioner Zod had already dispatched some of his pa.s.sionate followers to Orvai, Corril, Ilonia, Argo City, Borga City, and many smaller agricultural and mining villages. Speaking Zod's praises, the messengers rallied the citizens, played upon their fears, and put him forward-humbly, of course-as the only man who could truly lead Krypton, ”at least during these uncertain times.” Zod had personally faced the evil Brainiac. He had been there from the very beginning, while other city leaders had stayed home for weeks, discussing the tragedy from the sidelines. base, Commissioner Zod had already dispatched some of his pa.s.sionate followers to Orvai, Corril, Ilonia, Argo City, Borga City, and many smaller agricultural and mining villages. Speaking Zod's praises, the messengers rallied the citizens, played upon their fears, and put him forward-humbly, of course-as the only man who could truly lead Krypton, ”at least during these uncertain times.” Zod had personally faced the evil Brainiac. He had been there from the very beginning, while other city leaders had stayed home for weeks, discussing the tragedy from the sidelines.

Meanwhile, arrogant Shor-Em had unilaterally issued a call for volunteer candidates to become members of a reestablished Council that he proposed in Borga City. Though the pompous n.o.bleman commended Zod's continuing ”temporary” efforts at the crater camp, he called the prospect of rebuilding Kandor absurd. Although the Commissioner privately agreed, he nevertheless encouraged his fanatically devoted workers to take offense at the insensitive p.r.o.nouncement. By virtue of their indignation, they recruited even more followers.

Living with the painful reality of the gaping wound every day, his dedicated followers at the temporary camp couldn't help but recognize how slow and ineffectual the other city leaders had been. Zod was clearly the only viable alternative. Everyone had to see that.

Unfortunately, the majority of Kryptonians hadn't personally lived through the tragedy or witnessed the magnitude of the damage firsthand, and they were swayed by naive and impractical suggestions, such as Shor-Em's. Zod knew he had to set them straight, and soon, before these complainers stumbled upon some way to oppose him.

It was time he decided, to see for himself what Aethyr had found in the ruins of Xan City. There he would find the tools he needed to consolidate Krypton and trump the blowhard claims of any rival leaders.

Promising to return in only a day or two, Zod departed from the burgeoning refugee camp with Aethyr and Nam-Ek. As their levitating raft raced away to the south, Zod looked back at the temporary settlement, shaking his head in disappointment. ”If I am to lead Krypton, my center of power must be more than a group of tents, dirt paths, and primitive sanitation facilities. No wonder people listen to Shor-Em when he offers Borga City as a viable alternative.”

Aethyr lounged back on a cus.h.i.+on at the side of the open-air vessel, smiling at him. ”One problem at a time.”

After a journey of many hours, they arrived at the ruins of Jax-Ur's ancient capital. Using this very place as his center of power, the warlord had conquered a world, destroyed an inhabited moon, and prepared to reach out across the nearby inhabited star systems. Only treachery had toppled him.

Zod reveled in the sensation of being surrounded by looming history. In the middle of Execution Square, he approached the weathered statue of the once-great warlord surrounded by the nearly unrecognizable figures of kneeling and defeated subjects. Propping his hands on his hips, he looked upward with a challenging smirk. ”All your works have fallen into dust, Jax-Ur! Mine will be greater.”

Aethyr said, ”Then take Jax-Ur's mantle for your own, Zod. Why not follow in his footsteps? Be the savior of Krypton.”

He looked at her strangely. ”Jax-Ur is one of the most reviled men in our history.”

She pointed out the obvious. ”Only because history was written by those who reviled him.”

”Then I had better write my own history to make sure that later generations will remember these events properly.”

She was delighted with this solution. ”Yes, you'll have to do that-and soon. Now, let me show you the weapons.”

Not overly interested in history or technology, Nam-Ek prowled among the flagstones and the fallen columns. He enjoyed stomping on the topaz beetles, crunching their sh.e.l.ls under his big feet, and stepping back to watch as other ravenous insects scuttled forward to devour the oozing carca.s.ses. These were not his beloved animals. They were bugs, vermin vermin-like anyone who opposed his master. Nam-Ek stomped some more.

With obvious antic.i.p.ation, Aethyr played the notes of ”Jax-Ur's March” on the crude and ancient musical instruments scattered around the square: a pitted tubular bell that still rang out low and clear, a hollow stone box that resonated when struck, a sheet-alloy gong that boomed like metal thunder. When she had completed the ponderous sequence of loud notes, the round covers of the underground silos ground slowly open to reveal the golden doomsday weapons standing upright in their cradles.

With s.h.i.+ning eyes, Zod gazed at Aethyr, thinking that she looked more beautiful than ever, now that she had revealed her secret. He leaned over the lip of the nearest pit to stare down at the slender missile, with its smooth, bulbous tip that contained such untold destructive energy. He shook his head, nearly hypnotized by the elegant symmetry. Three of these warheads had been sufficient to blast Koron to rubble. Only three! ”What could a warlord possibly do with fifteen fifteen such weapons?” such weapons?”

Aethyr lifted her softly pointed chin. ”A man with such power could strike fear into anyone who might challenge him. Simply by possessing the nova javelins, a leader could ensure peace, prosperity-and total, absolute obedience.”

Possibilities swirled in the Commissioner's mind. ”Intriguing.”

The pair descended into the shadowy control-room bunkers she had found underneath the ruins. Zod inhaled the smells of dust, stale air, cold metal, and old grease. The ancient equipment looked intact and undamaged, except for the slow deterioration of time. Only a few of the old illumination crystals still functioned in the large and silent banks of machinery.

”The systems are strange, the notions old-fas.h.i.+oned,” Aethyr said, ”but I don't believe it would take much to fine-tune them.”

Later, when they emerged from the control bunkers, Zod admired the lost grandeur all around him. Studying the still-intact buildings and towers, he extended his hands as if he could feel ancient power rising from the ground.

”I like this place. It has a very solid feel, a sense of majesty. Think of how long it has endured.” He smiled at Aethyr. ”Yes, once all my followers are in place, this will be a clean, fresh start for a new world. This This will be Krypton's new capital.” will be Krypton's new capital.”

CHAPTER 40.

After the setback from the severe quake, Jor-El revised his plans for the telescope array, reinforced the structures, and set the teams to work again. In only a week, four more giant observation dishes unfurled, like the petals of enormous wire-frame flowers. With the structures geometrically arranged along two intersecting baselines, each a kilometer long, the array looked like a technological garden. He wished his father could see this. Yar-El would have been awed by the site. severe quake, Jor-El revised his plans for the telescope array, reinforced the structures, and set the teams to work again. In only a week, four more giant observation dishes unfurled, like the petals of enormous wire-frame flowers. With the structures geometrically arranged along two intersecting baselines, each a kilometer long, the array looked like a technological garden. He wished his father could see this. Yar-El would have been awed by the site.

The sensitive telescopes and receiver dishes would warn of any impending invasion, and they would also collect copious pure scientific data. The heavens were rife with mysteries and possibilities, but the Council had not wanted Jor-El even to look for them. Now, under the pretext of defending the planet, Zod had given him all the permission he needed.

Jor-El also set his mind to pondering designs for new defenses, just as Zod had asked him to do. However, even though he convinced himself the weapons would be used only against Krypton's outside enemies, his mind often went blank now that he was trying trying to create destructive devices. to create destructive devices.

In the midst of Jor-El's efforts to complete the telescope array, his mother tracked him down, first by sending a message to the estate, then to the temporary camp at the crater, and finally to the telescope construction site. He watched her image on the communication plate, read her distraught expression, and suddenly knew that this message was what he had been dreading for many years.

”Your father is dying. This could be your last chance to say good-bye.” Charys hesitated. The image flickered, and he realized that she had switched off the recording to gather her courage so that she wouldn't cry, so that her voice wouldn't crack. ”I've already sent a message to Zor-El, but I doubt he'll make it from Argo City in time. Please hurry. I need at least one of you here.”

Lara would not let him go alone. An angry breeze picked up, growing moist as gray clouds formed overhead, and Jor-El didn't even notice when the drizzle began. They borrowed a fast platform flyer from one of the construction crews, activated the pa.s.senger cover, and left the noisy and frenetic work site.

It was raining hard by the time they landed the hovering raft among the trees that enfolded the isolated dacha. Jor-El's knees shook as he stepped down from the vehicle. Cold droplets splattered his face and plastered down his white hair, but he hardly noticed the discomfort.

As they ran to the porch, Jor-El saw that Charys had allowed her garden to fall into weeds. After the blooms had been plucked for Jor-El and Lara's wedding more than a month before, the untended flowers had reblossomed in a riot of colorful petals. The fact that his mother had not cared for her prized plants told him more than any verbal explanations.

She opened the door, looking wan and lonely, her eyes hollow. ”Come inside. I'm glad to have you here with me.”

His face gray and pale, a sheen of sweat sparkling on his forehead, Yar-El lay on his bed, covered by a light blanket. His open eyes barely blinked as he stared off into his own universe. His breathing was shallow.

”He knows what happened to Kandor,” Charys said. ”It's not always obvious when he's aware of his surroundings, so I'm not sure how he learned the news, but he feels the loss of the city. That's what did this to him.” Unnecessarily, she straightened the blankets, then stroked Yar-El's hair, keeping her hands busy. The older woman struggled to maintain her dignity. ”Another day, Yar-El. Just hold on another day. Zor-El will be here as soon as he can.”

They watched over the catatonic man in a long vigil, unable to find words. Surprisingly, old Yar-El blinked. His watery eyes flicked from side to side, then focused. He lifted a hand, weakly extending a finger.

Jor-El leaned closer. ”Father, can you hear me?”

Yar-El pointed to the side of the bed, growing agitated. He clenched his fingers, then pointed again, attempting to grasp something. Lara saw that he was trying to reach the touch-sensitive notepad at the side of the bed. ”He wants to write something. Do you have a stylus?”

Charys rushed to get a writing implement, but Yar-El took the tablet and made a sweeping stroke with his finger, drawing a curve that bent and rebent back upon itself. The old man clearly and deliberately formed the S-shaped symbol of their family crest, the serpent of deceit trapped within an impenetrable diamond. He let the pad fall onto the blankets that covered his lap.