The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [119]
Not sure what to say, Lara ran her gaze over all the workers engaged in assembling the mosaic. “I don’t have time for anything else, Commissioner. With Jor-El gone, I am already devoting every waking hour to this work.”
“I would expect nothing less from the wife of Jor-El.” Zod stepped close, and his presence fell over Lara like the shadow from a thundercloud. “You’ve already drawn your designs, and we have plenty of competent supervisors to ensure that the work continues without pause. However, Aethyr suggested you as the perfect person for an extremely important project, one with even more enduring relevance than any of these works of art.”
“A different sort of art,” Aethyr added.
Before Zod could explain further, one of the mosaic workers stumbled and knocked over his basket full of cut tiles from the high scaffolding. He yelled a warning to the people below as hundreds of colorful chips tumbled through the air. Sparkling like a shattered rainbow, they pattered on the flagstones. The other workers groaned, not because anyone had been hurt, but because gathering up all the pieces would be so tedious.
The Commissioner turned away, clearly not wanting his devoted followers to see his stormy expression of contempt and disappointment, but Lara noticed. It took him only a fraction of a second to compose a fresh smile for her. “Aethyr tells me you have a background in history, and that your instructors at the Academy commended your writing talent. Most important, you grasp the context of the great events around us.”
The compliment made Lara oddly uncomfortable. She did not tell him of the detailed personal journal she had already been surreptitiously keeping. “Yes, history and writing are among my interests.”
Aethyr ignored the chaos behind them. “Lara, it is important to make sure that history remembers Zod properly. These are turbulent times, and when emotions run high, memory isn’t always accurate.”
The Commissioner nodded. “You are the perfect person to be my official biographer and the chronicler of my new reign, to set down the official version of events and determine how history remembers me—remembers all of us.”
Lara was not so easily recruited. “You want me to write propaganda for you?”
“Not propaganda—the truth.”
Aethyr interjected, “There is no such thing as completely objective truth, Lara. Everything the Commissioner does can be seen from varying perspectives. Though many of the complainers have now withdrawn their objections, some people like Shor-Em still argue with his decisions out of petty jealousy and a petulant resistance to change. You remember how much Jor-El has fought against that kind of backward thinking. We are in this together.”
Lara crossed her arms over her chest, still not convinced. “I also remember, Commissioner, that you were the one who censored most of my husband’s inventions. If not for you, Jor-El’s discoveries could have benefited Krypton for many years. But your Commission held him back.”
“That was not my choice, Lara. I followed the Council’s guidance, and for that I admit my error. Have I not proved myself since then? Look at what I am allowing Jor-El and his brother to do right now. Drilling to Krypton’s core! A project the old Council would never have approved, no matter how much data they reviewed.” He looked at her intently. “Won’t you give me the benefit of the doubt?”
Skilled artisans scurried around the base of the scaffolding like hive insects, busily picking up the mosaic pieces; within minutes, they had cleaned up the mess. “See how efficient Kryptonians can be if they work together and follow a single leader?” Aethyr said. “That’s why we have to help everyone see what Zod can do for them. If you write our history properly, you’ll be helping to save Krypton as surely as your husband’s drilling project will.”
Before she could reply, Lara fought against a sudden twisting in her stomach; she took long, deep