The Last Days Of Krypton Part 7

"Which my son Tyr-Us is rebuilding along more stringent construction codes," Jul-Us said, as if that would solve the whole problem.

"Besides, we have always felt tremors," said Kor-Te. No doubt he had memorized every prior incident.

"Ah, then you have also noted the evidence," Zor-El added smoothly. "It is obvious for anyone to see."

Before they could wander into other bureaucratic dances, Jor-El laid out the basic plan he had developed. "Without delay, we've got to find some way to release the pressure building up in our core. Who knows how close we are to a critical point? Zor-El took readings at only one of the thermal plumes."

"A global problem requires a global response," his brother added. "All cities must join in the effort. We are all in this together."

Jor-El narrowed his eyes, sounding determined and hoping that no one here decided to call his bluff. They all knew he was far more intelligent than any of them, frighteningly so. "Perhaps I should accept that provisional Council seat you offered me some time ago. It is the only way I can be sure you will focus your efforts on the necessary work. With my vote, I could veto any other distractions until this matter is resolved."

"That is not necessary," Pol-Ev said quickly. "Krypton would benefit most if you dedicated yourself to your real work."

Jor-El stared them down. He could tell he was making them nervous. They didn't want him to serve on the Council any more than he wanted to do so.

"Jor-El is right about our priorities," Cera-Si said eagerly. "Provide us with the data you collected, and our objective experts will review it. As soon as the threat is verified, the Council can develop action groups. Both of you should lead them. Then we will send representatives to other cities, see if additional groups wish to join us in the effort."

"I, for one, intend to look at this data very carefully," Kor-Te said. "Do you have it?"

Zor-El looked at his brother awkwardly, but Jor-El sighed. "Tell them."

Mauro-Ji leaned forward, putting his elbows high on the bench. "Is there some problem? If your data is so conclusive that you would rush-"

Zor-El met the skeptical eyes of those staring down upon him. "I lost my data. There was another eruption, and I was attacked by hrakkas. My equipment was destroyed."

With a sarcastic chuckle, Silber-Za tossed her long yellow hair. Apparently, their entrance had interrupted discussion on a civic matter she had personally submitted to the Council. "Then your claims seem premature. Even if your brother supports you, we cannot authorize dramatic changes in planetary policy on the basis of your word alone, Zor-El."

"Why would you doubt my word?" He could barely control his anger.

"It's not an unreasonable request." Mauro-Ji sounded conciliatory. "Just mount another expedition. Gather more data. Come back here and submit it to us. At that point, we will develop our response."

"Yes, we really should do everything according to the rules," Kor-Te added. "That is how it has always been done."

"Another team will easily confirm what I found," Zor-El said. "But I had hoped to get a head start on such a large problem, a full-scale research group rather than just me."

"Rash decisions are often bad decisions," Jul-Us intoned, folding his hands together. "Thank you both for a most interesting presentation. However, it's up to this Council to a.s.sess the real threats and priorities for Krypton. At such time as we deem this problem to be significant, we will invite the two of you to partic.i.p.ate in the study group."

Though not satisfied, Zor-El saw that they could ask for nothing more at the moment. "We will get the data as soon as possible."

Jor-El straightened, looking directly at them. He could sense impatience building within him just like the pressure in Krypton's core. "And when we do, I expect the Council to act promptly and decisively."

Old Jul-Us nodded sagely. "Of course." The eleven members were already picking up their doc.u.ments and debating other civic matters.

Zor-El growled as they pa.s.sed down the echoing hall, "This isn't the way things work in Argo City. My people listen, they cooperate, and get things done without d.i.c.kering endlessly over trivial matters." He shook his head. "They are deluding themselves. They are delaying-"

"They are the Council."

CHAPTER 17.

When Jor-El came back to the estate, Lara could tell he was frustrated by what had happened with the Council. His brother had departed directly for Argo City; she'd barely been introduced to him. the estate, Lara could tell he was frustrated by what had happened with the Council. His brother had departed directly for Argo City; she'd barely been introduced to him.

Trying to change Jor-El's mood, she showed him the new paintings she had done. By now, Lara had finished the portraits on eleven of the twelve obelisks. Though she continued to touch up the details, each of the symbolic panels was complete and (even if she said so herself) quite remarkable.

Her parents had already wrapped up most of the artwork along the estate's buildings, and many of the apprentices were being sent back to Kandor; Ora and Lor-Van would spend several more days doc.u.menting nuances in the murals, so that others would interpret them properly. The famed artists were in great demand, and they already had a major new project lined up in the capital city. But Lara wasn't so anxious to leave.

"And what about that last obelisk?" Jor-El asked, apparently glad to be distracted from his other troubles. "What do you intend to paint there?"

"I'm waiting to be inspired." On an impulse, she blurted, "In all the times you've been to Kandor, have you ever taken a few hours to actually see see the city-the museums, the humming galleries, the architecture of the crystal temples? There are so many things I'd like to show you, Jor-El. With my parents' influence, I can get us fine seats for the next opera tapestry." the city-the museums, the humming galleries, the architecture of the crystal temples? There are so many things I'd like to show you, Jor-El. With my parents' influence, I can get us fine seats for the next opera tapestry."

He was obviously not thrilled with the idea. "I don't like opera tapestries. I don't understand them."

"And I don't understand your physics, but that didn't keep me from getting you out of the Phantom Zone," she countered. "All it takes is a little care and attention. Come with me to Kandor. Let me show you."

"An opera tapestry?" he said again, as if pleading with her to choose something else.

"A new epic just debuted, 'The Legend of Hur-Om and Fra-Jo.' It has a grand scope, star-crossed lovers, tragedy, and a happy ending. What more could anyone want?" He took her question literally and was about to answer with something specific, but she cut him off. "Trust me in this, Jor-El."

"All right, I'll trust you. Go ahead and arrange it."

They spent most of the following day in Kandor, even though they had no plans until the evening's opera tapestry. Jor-El was not accustomed to the luxury of simply finding things to do, but Lara's relaxed mood gradually rubbed off on him. Once his brother did collect the necessary data, he would have to devote all of his time to saving the world. For now, though-just a few hours-he allowed himself to enjoy being with Lara.

After a while he no longer even checked the solar clocks, though he did insist on stopping by the offices of Council members Cera-Si and Mauro-Ji, the two men most likely to implement a mitigation plan for Krypton's tectonic instabilities. Jor-El spoke with each man briefly, reminding them that he trusted his brother and his predictions, that they must not ignore this potential for disaster. Cera-Si and Mauro-Ji both promised to do their best-but only after they had incontrovertible proof.

Lara took him to a museum, a sculpture garden, and a quick dinner before heading to the opera pavilion, whose design looked like an unfolding nest of tourmaline parabolas. She settled beside him in the dim auditorium and leaned close to make an amusing comment; Jor-El barely heard her words, distracted by her nearness.

On his estate, Jor-El had always thought he had everything he wanted. Off and on over the years, he had pondered the possibility of a politically advantageous marriage, though he had never seen much point in it. Mauro-Ji made no secret of how beautiful and well connected his two daughters were, but the young ladies were so obsessed with transient fas.h.i.+ons and esoteric gossip that Jor-El could hardly bear an hour in their company. Though many women pretended to adore him, Jor-El always sensed that they were more impressed with his fame than with him. him.

Lara, on the other hand, wasn't trying to woo him for political or financial gain. She liked him because she liked liked him, and he very much enjoyed her company in return. She neither brushed aside his science nor insisted on comprehending it. "I don't need to understand the details of your him, and he very much enjoyed her company in return. She neither brushed aside his science nor insisted on comprehending it. "I don't need to understand the details of your work, work, Jor-El," she had said. "I need to understand Jor-El," she had said. "I need to understand you. you."

Lights dimmed, casting an ebony blanket of simulated night on the theater walls. The stages levitated, and a holographic representation of the old and ornate city of Orvai appeared, setting the scene.

Lara's eyes sparkled. "Now instead of you explaining science to me, let me explain the opera tapestry to you."

"I hope you're a patient teacher. When does this story take place?"

"It's a legend. It takes place in some vague 'long ago.'"

Someone urged them to be quiet. Lights strobed across the stage, and actors appeared. The singing began, and counterpoints of symphonic music clashed with the vocal melodies.

In the story, Hur-Om was a wealthy young man, highly opinionated but well respected. Fra-Jo was a beautiful young woman, just as pa.s.sionate, from a rival family. The two disagreed on almost everything, so naturally they fell in love, though neither of them would admit it. Sparks flew with their every conversation; they opposed each other's propositions during numerous Council sessions. They debated furiously, but with each encounter they felt a strange pull tying their hearts together. Still, their stubborn personalities made them deny their mutual attraction.

Finally, Fra-Jo accused Hur-Om of loving her, and he accused her of loving him. Each indignant, they angrily parted company, vowing never to see the other again. Fra-Jo took to the sea, leaving Orvai and sailing off through the great lakes and onto the open ocean; Hur-Om marched in the opposite direction, leading a caravan expedition out into the desert.

Now, the levitating stages split, showing both stories simultaneously. From his seat, Jor-El had to flick his gaze back and forth to follow it all. Fra-Jo's half of the stage filled with water to show ocean waves through a transparent static barrier. Rain poured down as a storm tossed her boat from side to side. Finally she was cast overboard, left to drift, clinging to a few pieces of wreckage in the depthless sea.

On the opposite side of the stage, Hur-Om led his caravan into the scorched wastelands, but a quake shook the desert and s.h.i.+fted the dunes. Like a great mouth, the desert swallowed up his party, pack animals, and supplies. They all vanished into the gaping pool of sand, leaving Hur-Om alone and lost.

Somehow, though, through all their tragedies, the two characters managed to keep singing. singing.

Lara repeatedly leaned over to whisper in his ear, explaining what was happening, pointing out nuances of stage direction, the s.h.i.+fting holograms of the sets, the lighting effects. In the building climax, the conflicting choruses drew together so that Hur-Om's voice and Fra-Jo's voice joined into a single song. With his last breath, parched and dying of thirst and heat exhaustion, Hur-Om sang out, admitting his love for Fra-Jo. Meanwhile, the woman, unable to swim any longer, dipping under the water and about to drown, called out her love for Hur-Om.

Then a miracle happened. Clouds broke, and rain poured down upon Hur-Om in the desert. On the other side of the stage, a sleek, gray dolphus buoyed up Fra-Jo; she held on to its fin as it streaked toward the distant sh.o.r.e. Meanwhile Hur-Om followed the run-off water into a canyon, then found a river, which guided him to the nearest village.

Many in the audience were weeping while others cheered. Jor-El just said, "That's not physically possible."

Lara chuckled. "But it is metaphorically metaphorically necessary, and romantically required." necessary, and romantically required."

Jor-El accepted the story for what it was. Once he opened his mind and put aside his skepticism, he began to see an almost mathematical dance in the performance, a perfection to the music that he had never noticed before.

Afterward he took Lara's arm, and they waited in the mezzanine gallery for the crowds to thin. So many unexpected things in one day! They walked out into the gentle night, where people sat in outdoor cafes or strolled along the boulevards. Atop the Council temple, the flaring image of Rao spilled crimson light over the metropolis, even at night. Jor-El looked up to the speckle of stars that were bright enough to s.h.i.+ne even against the glow of city lights.

When he saw a streak of light, he realized it was not one of the usual meteors falling down from Koron. This was a deliberate flaring trail that arrowed down toward the city, moving one way and then another, as if choosing a place to land. "Look! Up in the sky!"

Lara followed his pointing finger. "Is it a bird? Or an aircraft of some kind?"

"No, see the way it moves." Absently he took her hand. "I've never seen anything like it before."

In the middle of the great plaza, other people spotted the approaching craft and backed away as it came in for a landing. Jor-El pushed closer, anxious to see. The unusual s.h.i.+p was small, and its curves and fins were unlike any vehicle of Kryptonian manufacture. The markings on the silver and blue hull plates were in a language he could not understand.

Jor-El felt a thrill, certain that this s.h.i.+p came from outside. It had crossed the pathways between the stars and had somehow found Krypton.

After a long and silent moment, a hatch disengaged with a hiss. A metal plate lifted up and a figure emerged-humanoid, through of much smaller stature than a Kryptonian. He had pale blue skin, wide-set eyes that seemed much too large for his face, and a fringe of twitching wormlike blue feelers around his chin, like a beard of tentacles. His flat nose had thin vertical nostrils. He wore a baggy, slick jumpsuit that sported many pockets and pouches, each of which held a small tool or glowing device. He looked wizened, almost comical.

The Kryptonians were terrified. Heavily muscled Sapphire Guards hurried to the scene, but even they were not trained for this.

The alien stepped out, looked around, and twitched his beard tentacles. He startled them all by saying in a language they could clearly understand, "My name is Donodon. I have come to Krypton to speak to your leaders." He spread his arms in a gesture of welcome. "It is time for you to leave your isolation and join the rest of the galactic community."

CHAPTER 18.

On her own in the wilderness, surviving by her instincts and abilities, Aethyr made her way across the trackless landscape. After weeks of searching, she finally arrived at the majestic ruins of Xan City, the abandoned stronghold of the deposed warlord Jax-Ur. wilderness, surviving by her instincts and abilities, Aethyr made her way across the trackless landscape. After weeks of searching, she finally arrived at the majestic ruins of Xan City, the abandoned stronghold of the deposed warlord Jax-Ur.

She had studied historical records, a.n.a.lyzed antique maps, followed roads long fallen into disuse. The ancient metropolis was not, in fact, difficult to locate. Aethyr felt disdain for most other Kryptonians who simply never bothered to look.

Originally, Xan City had been built at the intersection of major trade routes, when caravans crossed the baked plains from the coastal mountains to the great river network. Over the centuries after the tyrant's defeat, with gradual developments in technology and transportation alternatives, Kryptonians had stopped using the old caravan routes, and so the fallen capital of Jax-Ur had been left to decay in the wasteland.

And Aethyr found it.

The historic city had remained untouched by scholars or treasure seekers for centuries. Treasure seekers! She snorted at the thought. As if any of those were still around-such a profession would require ambition.

When Aethyr at last surveyed the ruins from a hill overlooking the once-impressive city, she drew in a triumphant breath. The tallest buildings had crumbled, the soaring towers snapped in half, leaving only the rubble of what had once been great boulevards and viaducts.

Others might have viewed this site with a sense of forlorn loss, but Aethyr saw the grandeur of a better time when Krypton's rulers had left a unique mark, rather than cementing the status quo for generation after generation. History called Jax-Ur a heinous tyrant, but Aethyr knew that history was often wrong. Each "objective" chronicler had his or her own bias.

As Rao sank like a hot coal to the horizon, she burned the skyline into her mind's eye: the fluted towers and cylindrical minarets, the soaring pyramids topped with delicate crystal. Every building had been designed to proclaim the glory of Jax-Ur.

The sky here at these lat.i.tudes was redder than she was accustomed to, the climate hotter and dryer. The gra.s.ses were seared brown, the rock outcroppings a rusty tan. The day's heat cooled abruptly with sunset, bringing dry and furious winds across the plains. Unruly breezes sighed among the broken-topped towers, whispering and whistling through the cavities as if the pinnacles were the components of a huge pipe organ.

Aethyr unslung her pack in a gra.s.sy hollow and decided to make camp outside the ancient tomb city. Savoring the antic.i.p.ation, she wanted a full day to begin her explorations of Xan City. The sharply honed excitement made her feel more alive. She spread her blankets and chose not to bother with her geometrical tent structure. Aethyr preferred to be out in the open, free, staring up at the auroras and the stars.

She ate dried food, drank from her bottle of enhanced water, then closed her eyes so that she could listen to the winds moan through the broken towers. The haunting random notes rose and fell. Aethyr could almost imagine that it was the wailing of Jax-Ur's countless victims from so long ago.

This was a symphony she could comprehend, unlike the traditional composition called "Jax-Ur's March." Her professors at the Academy called it a work of Kryptonian genius, but Aethyr had always found the piece to be overblown; she wasn't even sure she believed Jax-Ur himself had commissioned the march. Her friend Lara had been certain, though. They had spent many weeks together debating literary and musical merit, discussing cla.s.sics and works of genius.

Back in school, the two of them had done the impetuous and unconventional things that students usually did. The Academy considered it sufficient for a student to read the official records published in the archives. But Lara and Aethyr had not agreed. They and a small group of their friends had gone to explore for themselves.

For herself, Aethyr had wanted to be the first to go places, to do things other Kryptonians simply did not do. After graduating, Lara had settled down, presumably falling into conventional social behavior, but Aethyr had never given up. She wondered where Lara was now....

She lay back in her camp, comfortable and warm, yet tingling with antic.i.p.ation. All of Xan City waited for her. Tomorrow.

To amuse herself during the evening, she withdrew a personal flute from her pack. It was a simple, primitive musical instrument, small enough to carry anywhere. She blew into the mouthpiece and moved her fingers over the holes to play melodies of her own devising. Aethyr entertained herself with her own skill. She didn't need to copy anyone else's creativity.

Later, as she went to sleep, she considered Xan City-untouched, unexplored for decades, if not centuries. Tomorrow the ancient collapsed city would be her playground. There, Aethyr would look upon secrets that no one else on Krypton had the nerve to discover.

CHAPTER 19.

During their time together, Lara had seen more of the real Jor-El than anyone else bothered to notice. She learned his fascinations, memorized his changing expressions. Jor-El was unaware of her surrept.i.tious observation, too busy looking at all the things she pointed out to him. Lara was thrilled to have shown him as much as she did. had seen more of the real Jor-El than anyone else bothered to notice. She learned his fascinations, memorized his changing expressions. Jor-El was unaware of her surrept.i.tious observation, too busy looking at all the things she pointed out to him. Lara was thrilled to have shown him as much as she did.

And at last, Lara knew what to paint on the final obelisk. It was perfect.

After the arrival of the alien s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p-quite an unusual ending to their date!-Jor-El had not wanted to send her back to the estate by herself, but she gave him no option. "I don't need a bodyguard or a babysitter. I can take care of myself."

He had flushed with embarra.s.sment. "I didn't mean-"

"Jor-El, you have to stay behind and deal with this. It's too important to leave in the hands of the Council members." Besides, since she had her inspiration, Lara wanted to get back to the last obelisk so she could surprise him.

Now, engrossed in painting the solitary stone near the corks.c.r.e.w.i.n.g tower, Lara didn't even notice how alone she was on the mysterious estate. Her parents had packed up their scaffolding and materials, ready to return to their Kandor studios. The apprentices had already departed with most of the equipment, like a legendary army retreating from an encampment. Ki-Van had gone back to his cla.s.ses in the city.