by Greg Cox
Jor-El and Kelex took up defensive positions before the door. He wished they had drilled for this more often, but the Citadel of the House of El had never come under siege in Jor-El’s lifetime. He had always counted on Krypton’s security forces to keep him safe from riots, insurrections, or invasions. Indeed, Zod had been brutally effective at keeping the peace for years—before he turned against the Council.
A titanic blast blew open the doors, filling the landing bay with smoke and debris. Jor-El and Kelex didn’t wait for the invaders to enter, but opened fire immediately, driving the attackers back with a blistering salvo of plasma fire. They rushed forward to defend the breached archway, even as the intruders regrouped on the open terrace beyond. Black uniforms and armor identified them as Zod’s partisans. Jor-El nodded grimly. It seemed that his old friend had come calling.
Taking cover beneath the archway, he assessed the scene. Rebel gunships, encrusted with armor, flared in overhead. There was Zod, leaning from the open bay of the lead ship, directing the assault. His harsh voice carried across the distance between them.
“Concentrate fire on the main doors!”
C H A P T E R F O U R
Jor-El and Kelex fought to repel the invaders. An overeager gunship came too close and Jor-El brought it down with a well-aimed blast to its propulsion unit. The sky-boat crashed into the rocky cliff beneath the terrace. Flaming wreckage cascaded down onto the grasslands hundreds of lengths below.
Frightened wildlife fled in panic. A herd of Rondors stampeded away from the fighting.
The rebels retaliated by unleashing a devastating series of blasts at Jor-El’s position. Despite his heavy armor, he rolled out of the way of the bursts, but their combined force was enough to bring down the entire archway, which collapsed on top of him. An avalanche of pulverized carbon and silica smashed him to the floor, burying him beneath heaps of rubble.
His armor shielded him from serious injury, but he found himself trapped, unable to move. Grunting with exertion, he tried to free himself, but the piled debris was too heavy. No Kryptonian could lift such a load.
“Hold on, sir!” Kelex called out. “I’m coming.”
The robot rushed to his aid. Mechanical limbs cleared away the heavy rubble. A steel hand took hold of Jor-El’s, pulling the trapped scientist free. Powdered silica clung to his face and armor as he regained his footing behind the fallen remains of the archway. This was at least twice that Kelex had saved him from Zod’s soldiers, he mused.
If only I’d had flesh-and-blood allies who were so reliable...
They were fighting a losing battle, however. An armored gunship touched down on the terrace, disgorging dozens of enemy soldiers. Jor-El knew that he and Kelex couldn’t possibly repel them all. Within minutes, the Citadel would be overrun by Zod’s forces. The Sword of Rao was at his throat.
No, he thought. Lara needs more time. Our child is not yet safe.
Kelex’s “head” pivoted in his direction. His servomotors whirred into readiness.
“It’s been an honor, sir,” the robot said, and Jor-El knew what he intended to do.
“Kelex, no!”
“I’m not important,” came the response. “None of us are. The only thing that matters is saving the child.”
The robot reached back with both mechanical hands and unlatched the outer casings on the obliques of his artificial musculature, exposing a pair of plasma grenades mounted to his inner chassis. He activated the grenades, which beeped and blinked ominously. Then he swiveled away from Jor-El.
“He is our future!”
Dashing out from behind the heaps of rubble, Kelex ran straight at the gunship and its crew. His robotic limbs carried him across the terrace at astonishing speed. Panicked soldiers, recognizing a suicide run, fired frantically at the charging war-bot. A plasma burst blew off Kelex’s right arm, but he kept on coming.
He sprang over the heads of the rebels and into very gullet of the ship, landing amidst the assault team. Doomed men scrambled away from him.
Abruptly the grenades went off, blowing apart the robot, the ship, and the surrounding soldiers. Jor-El watched wide-eyed as the scene transformed into an explosion of flying plasma and shrapnel. He ducked his head to avoid being tagged by the molten metal.
As the debris settled, smoke rose from the gutted remains of the gunship.
Ever loyal, Kelex had destroyed himself for the House of El.
Jor-El resolved not to let that sacrifice go to waste. He retreated back into the Citadel, hoping that the rubble and burning gunships would slow Zod and his renegades long enough for Lara to complete the launch.
Hurry, my love, he thought. Zod is coming.
* * *
The cradle module ascended into the waiting starcraft. An open hatchway sealed behind it, putting another layer of separation between Lara and her son. She stood at the launch controls, accompanied by Kelor.
“Phantom drives are coming online, mistress,” the ’bot announced.
Lara nodded and initiated the launch sequence. Despite the Citadel-shaking combat raging outside, and fears for her husband’s safety, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.
She and Jor-El had been partners in this endeavor since the beginning, ever since his research revealed the truth of Krypton’s impending doom. An accomplished scholar and historian in her own right, she had gladly volunteered to give birth to Kal-El as their ancestors had done. Yet the entire time, she had known that they would not raise him as their own.
She had just never expected it would be so hard.
The starcraft, now bearing little Kal-El, rotated into position. Vapors vented from the engines as the vessel powered up its thrusters. Biomechanical umbilical cords detached themselves from the craft.
The realization that she was sending her child away from her, forever, was like a dagger to the heart. Chances were she would never even know if he arrived safely at the primitive world so many light-years away. Nor could she guess what lonely fate awaited him there.
I have to do this, she reminded herself. We have no choice.
So she keyed in the penultimate sequence. High above her, the vast dome of the observatory began to open...
* * *
Zod’s personal transport touched down on the terrace, not far from the flaming remains of the advance ship. Exiting his craft, he scowled at the wreckage. He had watched as the events unfolded. That suicidal robot had cost him many loyal soldiers.
Damn you, Jor-El, he thought angrily. This is unnecessary. Why couldn’t you work with me to save our people... and restore Krypton’s greatness?
Flanked by Faora and Nam-Ek, he marched briskly toward the collapsed archway. His dark eyes scanned the battleground, and he remained on guard for traps. As far as he knew, Jor-El had few allies these days, but a smart soldier never underestimated the opposition. Even when the enemy is your oldest friend.
Monitoring the comms, Faora lifted a hand to her ear. Her brow furrowed pensively.
“General, we’ve identified an engine ignition within the Citadel—”
An engine? Zod tried to make sense of this new development. What in Rao’s name is Jor-El up to now? His forces had intercepted the alarms from the Genesis Chamber. Could it be that Jor-El was attempting to escape with the stolen Codex?
That could not be permitted. Zod had his own plans for the Codex—and for the future of the Kryptonian race.
“Hold this platform, commander!” he ordered, leaving Faora behind as he quickened his pace toward the entrance. Avid soldiers were already clearing away the rubble that blocked the way. Zod led a contingent into the building, which he knew well in happier days.
The unmistakable thrum of engines drew him to Jor-El’s well-equipped observatory, where he found his old friend standing alongside a compact vessel that appeared designed for interstellar travel. Its thrusters pulsed with pure light.
Lara stood nearby, at a post in front of a pulsing control panel.
The glow fro
m the starcraft cast Jor-El in stark shadow. With his back to the newcomers, he resembled some mythic hero from Krypton’s illustrious past. If he knew they were there, he gave no sign, A plasma carbine rested in his grip. Powdered silica dusted his hair.
Zod drew his sidearm.
“I know you stole the Codex, Jor-El. Surrender it, and I’ll let you live.”
“Why?” came the response. “So you can pervert our lineage, to your own ends?” Jor-El shook his head. “This is a second chance for all of Krypton. Not just the bloodlines you deem worthy.”
What second chance? Zod wondered. Ignoring his prisoner’s sanctimonious lecture, he searched the scene for clues to whatever audacity Jor-El was attempting. His gaze darted from the adjacent medical suite—where an antique birthing couch had been dragged out of obsolescence—to Lara herself. Her lovely figure was less slender than he recalled, almost as though...
Suddenly an unspeakable possibility forced its way into his mind. It dragged up foggy memories, of certain radical notions Jor-El had once shared with him in private, back when they were young and chafing at the Council’s growing calcification.
Zod’s gaze shifted from the medical suite to the birthing couch, and then to the miniature starcraft, which seemed scarcely large enough to transport anything larger than a child.
A chill ran down his spine. He stared at his former friend in horror.
“What have you done?” he demanded.
“We had a son, Zod,” Jor-El said, without even having the decency to deny it. “Krypton’s first live birth in centuries. Free to forge his own destiny.”
“Heresy!” Zod felt sick to stomach, but his disgust quickly ignited into rage. He turned to the soldiers, and pointed emphatically at the hovering starcraft and its obscene cargo.
“Destroy it!” he commanded.
That propelled Jor-El into motion. He spun and fired on the soldiers, attempting to provide cover for the craft. The escort fell back, taking up defensive positions, but Zod knew more than they what was at stake.
Heedless of his own safety, he charged into the observatory, desperate to halt the launch. He knew without being told that Jor-El had entrusted the Codex to the abomination he and Lara had conceived. Rao only knew where Jor-El intended to send his son.
Perhaps one of the old outposts?
A plasma burst sizzled past his ear, close enough to singe his hair—a warning shot, perhaps. Zod gambled that Jor-El, for all his mad schemes, wasn’t prepared to murder a friend. So he dashed forward, keeping his head low, only to find himself torn between commandeering the launch controls and attacking the starcraft directly. Or perhaps he needed to remove Jor-El from the equation?
His momentary indecision was his downfall. A well-aimed shot from Jor-El’s rifle reduced Zod’s sidearm to slag. Grunting in pain, he hurled the super-heated weapon away from him.
It splattered upon the floor.
“Lara!” Zod called out, hoping that she was more amenable to reason than her deranged husband. The Lara Lor-Van he recalled had always been highly intelligent, and she might still be that woman, no matter what depravity Jor-El had forced upon her. “Listen to me! The Codex is Krypton’s future!” He appealed to her patriotism and honor. “Abort the launch!”
Then Jor-El was upon him. He pressed the heated muzzle of his rife against Zod, forcing him to his knees. But, as Zod had suspected, he balked at executing the friend of his youth. Instead he merely shouted urgently in Lara’s direction.
“Finish it!”
Her graceful fingers played across the illuminated control screen. The starcraft’s thrusters flared even more brightly, forcing them to look away. Victory—and the Codex—were slipping away from him.
“NO!!!”
Unlike Jor-El, he had been trained to kill. Moving quickly, while their attention was on the starcraft, he drew a concealed dagger from his boot and drove it into Jor-El’s chest, just below his armored breastplate. The carbonized bone blade penetrated Jor-El’s skinsuit, piercing the fragile skin and organs beneath.
Jor-El cried out and collapsed to the floor. His rifle slipped from his fingers.
Zod lunged for the fallen weapon, praying there was still time to halt the launch. Leaving his dagger lodged in his friend’s chest, he snatched the weapon as he rolled across the floor and scrambled into firing position. He took aim at the departing starcraft...
But he was too late. With a sudden burst of ignition, the capsule blasted off at an angle that took it toward the open ceiling of the observatory. He fired desperately, but the plasma burst fell short of its target, which rocketed beyond the roof and into the dusky red sky.
Frustrated, Zod wheeled around to glare at Jor-El, who lay bleeding upon the floor. His wound was mortal, of course, but a smile played upon the dying scientist’s face as he watched the starcraft escape the Citadel. Proud eyes tracked the ship’s ascent.
Then they clouded over. Eyes that had once probed the secrets of the universe saw only oblivion.
“Jor-El!”
Lara rushed to his side. She cradled his lifeless body in her arms, sobbing inconsolably. Zod felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman, who had just lost both her husband and her child, but forced it aside in order to focus on the crisis at hand.
“Your son, Lara.” He spit out the obscenity. “Where have you sent him?”
Tear-filled eyes met his, but they were hard, as well. Her defiant voice held neither fear nor regret.
“Beyond your reach,” she replied, her words filled with irony.
We’ll see about that, he thought. But as he loomed over the forms of the grieving widow and her dead mate, he was briefly transfixed by the sight of Jor-El’s corpse. Remorse threatened to unman him, as the awful weight of this particular killing settled onto his shoulders.
But he shook it off and wiped the blood from his blade. Gathering his soldiers, he moved quickly out of the observatory, leaving Lara alone with her grief.
Let her mourn for both of us, he thought. For Krypton’s future still depends on me, and if I fail, we all will suffer.
He had to find a way to abort Jor-El’s unholy enterprise. Zod raced back to the battle-scarred terrace, where he found Faora and the others staring up in confusion at the ascending starcraft. It was gaining altitude by the instant, trailing a vaporous white contrail as it flew toward space. Within moments it would achieve escape velocity and exit Krypton’s atmosphere altogether.
If that occurred, the Codex would truly be beyond his reach, just as Lara had foretold.
“We have to retrieve that ship!” he shouted. “Shoot it down!” Doing so might destroy the object of his desire, but even that was better than letting it vanish into the depths of space. He would have to hope that Jor-El had shielded the Codex sufficiently.
Tor-An relayed the command to a hovering gunship. Zod watched anxiously, wishing that he could personally man the weapons controls as the craft turned and accelerated. It was almost within firing range when a coruscating particle beam blew the craft apart.
What the—?
Flaming wreckage rained down on the Citadel, forcing Zod and the others to dive for cover.
A blinding searchlight found them where they crouched. Peering up into the glare, shielding his eyes with one hand, he spied a huge hammerhead frigate descending toward them. The immense ship dwarfed his smaller fighters. A commanding voice boomed from the behemoth.
“SAPPHIRE GUARDS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!”
Platoons of heavily armed guardsmen and women dropped from the hammerhead onto the debris-strewn terrace. Faora leapt forward, ready to fight to the death, but Zod held her back. A wise general did not waste his forces on suicidal displays of bravado.
Glancing around at what remained of his band of rebels, he realized that the game was up... for now. Surrender was the only option. Slowly he raised his hands above his head.
Peering past the searchlight, he watched grimly as the fleeing starcraft carried the Codex away. By now, the vessel was
only a glowing speck high in the sky.
A prismatic distortion field enveloped it as it reached the upper atmosphere. Space-time rippled around the craft, wavering like a mirage, before it blinked out of existence, passing into another dimension.
Gone, Zod thought. But to where?
He offered no resistance as the guards took him into custody. Without the Codex, Krypton’s future was lost. There was no point in fighting for a doomed world.
Not today.
But perhaps someday, a new battle might be waged...
C H A P T E R F I V E
The walls of the Council Chamber opened like the petals of an enormous ceramic flower, revealing the night sky—and the ominous prison barge hanging just above the exposed amphitheater.
The Black Zero resembled a gargantuan cephalopod, with three huge tentacles hanging down from its bulbous black mantle. Each tentacle was nearly as long as the council tower was high. The ship’s massive shadow fell over the arena where Zod and his top lieutenants awaited judgment.
The prisoners had been stripped of their armor and uniforms, so that they wore only stark black skinsuits. Energized shackles bound their wrists and ankles. They stood before the Council of Five, much as Jor-El had done only a few days before.
A new solon had been elevated to replace the martyred Ro-Zar. Lor-Em had taken his predecessor’s place as High Eminence. His saturnine countenance offered no promise of mercy.
“General Zod,” he said with stentorian gravity. “For the crimes of murder and high treason, the Council has sentenced you and your fellow insurgents to three hundred cycles of somatic reconditioning.”
Gasps arose from some of the prisoners, as well as from a small party of onlookers gathered at the perimeter of the amphitheater. Zod spotted Lara among them, representing the House of El. In the tumult surrounding the aborted insurrection, Jor-El’s own transgressions— including the theft of the Codex—had been hushed up in order to avoid troubling the populace any further. Even the existence of his unnatural offspring had been kept from the public. Lara herself had escaped prosecution, so far.
