The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [167]
The people eyed him with expressions of lingering fear, disgust, even hatred. The hatred puzzled him most. He was, after all, the savior of Krypton.
“I feel like an animal in a zoo, on display for foolish visitors to gawk at,” he said to Aethyr. “Maybe it was merciful for the Butcher of Kandor to slaughter all those animals.” Nam-Ek flashed him a startled glance.
“Unlike the Butcher of Kandor, these people will never have the nerve to take any definite action,” Aethyr said. “They’ll debate us and study us for years.”
“And all the while, we will be trapped here.” Zod’s whole body trembled with the effort of containing his emotions. He wanted to shout at them, but that would only entertain the watchers and make him appear weak. He did not intend to appear weak.
Nam-Ek, though, had no such self-control. Every hour or so he let out a wordless roar and pummeled his fists uselessly against the dome shield. A few in the audience chamber glanced up at the disturbance. Several were embarrassed; others simply ignored him. Two officials smiled confidently at the force field, then went about their business.
Zod wanted to kill them all.
One by one, as if wrestling with their fears, the dissenters who had been imprisoned within the Phantom Zone came to glare at the General. Puffed with bravado (since he was caged), they railed at him, cursed him. At first he laughed at their ridiculous posturing. Eventually he ignored them.
Zod paced the cell like a prowling predator. Aethyr watched him, her lips curled. Now that they had been arrested and he could offer her nothing, Zod wondered if she would still love him. What if this woman had simply agreed to be his consort because of the mantle of power he wore?
But Aethyr did not denounce him.
Several times, their captors had expanded the dome to encompass a few small amenities. They had food, water, a bucket, and little else. There were no tools Zod could use to plan an escape. He had only his own voice and powerful personality to influence his captors. At one time, that might have been sufficient, but not anymore.
He deserved reverence, not humiliation, after what he had accomplished for Krypton. No one else would have taken the necessary actions after the loss of Kandor. History would prove that he had saved his race from their own indecisive helplessness. He had done what was right, had nearly reached the pinnacle of achievement—when it all came crashing down. If he had made any bad decisions, he would not admit to them.
Keeping Kryptonopolis as a provisional capital, the people scrambled to form a new government…or, more likely, rehash the old one. The bumbling leaders were looking to precedents that had already proved weak and useless. Gil-Ex and Tyr-Us talked openly about forming a new Council, just like the old one in Kandor. Apparently, during their time inside the Phantom Zone, their delusions had grown. They remembered nothing. Idiots!
Zod vindictively hoped that some outside invader would attack Krypton right now, just to prove him right. After all, he was perfectly safe under this protective dome….
After two days of turmoil, the provisional government announced the beginning of Zod’s trial. The General stood straight, clasped his hands behind his back, and raised his voice to be heard through the humming shield. “You have given me no time to prepare. I must have counsel. I must have access to my accusers. This goes against the laws of Krypton.”
“We are the new Kryptonian law,” said Gil-Ex, still looking ridiculous with his long mustache and his glistening pate. “You’ve had enough time to contemplate your crimes. Plead your case, beg forgiveness if you wish. No one doubts your ability to speak articulately.”
Aethyr gave a bitter laugh. “Oh? And what about Nam-Ek? He hasn’t spoken a word since he was a child.”
The members of the provisional government looked flustered at that. Zod knew these men would do whatever they