The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [174]
The others were taken aback, even affronted at the sudden blatant partisanship. “How can we vote?” cried Korth-Or. “We haven’t even heard your proposal yet!”
“This is not the way our business should be conducted,” Gal-Eth said in a more cautious voice. Even in the audience, muttering could be heard.
Gil-Ex looked very satisfied with himself. “Previously, Council business required all eleven votes to be carried. Now, because of the motion introduced by Zor-El and approved unanimously, we need only six votes.”
Tyr-Us said, “We have much business to complete, and we felt this was a swift and efficient way to proceed rather than waste time in debate when we already had the votes necessary.”
Jor-El was greatly disturbed, not just because of the obvious political machinations but because of their misconceptions about the underlying science. The Council members didn’t understand what they were suggesting or how to implement it. He looked down the table to face the others. “Excuse me, but no matter how many votes you manage to find, the Phantom Zone can’t be destroyed.”
Gil-Ex shouted him down with surprising vitriol. “We’ve had enough of your corrupted technologies, Jor-El. You can’t change our minds.”
“Wiping out the Phantom Zone—your Phantom Zone—is the only way we can restore hope,” Tyr-Us added, only slightly calmer. “This act will also guarantee that Zod and his cronies never escape.”
Jor-El shook his head, not rising to the level of insults. “I didn’t advise against it. I’m simply stating a fact: The Phantom Zone is a stable singularity, a hole into another universe. It cannot be destroyed, no matter how much you may want to do so.”
The audience members began to grumble. “Thank you for your insight, Jor-El,” Gil-Ex said, his voice like ice. “But I’m certain we can find a way. We don’t need your help.”
“The vote has already been carried,” added one of the former Phantom Zone prisoners. “Time for the next item of discussion.”
Sighing, Jor-El saw that he would not win the argument. Sadly, he realized that this would likely be how the new Council often conducted business. He turned toward Lara, searching for a friendly face—and was astonished to see her hunched over, her face clenched in pain. Both of her arms were wrapped around her stomach.
He jumped to his feet from behind the table. “Lara, what is it?”
She tried to reassure him with a smile, which didn’t convince him at all. “The baby. Labor contractions.”
He hurried around the table to the first row of seats, not caring that he caused a disturbance. Tyr-Us called for order in a scolding voice. Jor-El grabbed his wife’s arm. “We’ve got to get you out of here. I’ll find the doctor.”
“Don’t…overreact.” She clamped her teeth together and sucked in a quick, hissing breath. “I’m sure we have time. But you’d better get me to the estate soon.”
Forgetting about the stubborn Council, ignoring the looks and the whispered comments from others in the benches, Jor-El ushered his wife out of the chamber. The meeting would have to continue without him. At the moment, he had far more important concerns.
It was the happiest moment in her life and the perfect ending to a long dark string of events. The birth of a baby son, healthy and strong.
Once back inside the manor house, Lara retired to their bedchamber as her labor progressed. The female doctor hovered inside the room during Lara’s hours of contractions. Jor-El held his wife’s hand the whole time.
Afterward, though Lara was exhausted and drained, her amber hair streaked against her face with perspiration, Kirana-Tu insisted it was a relatively easy delivery. “So typical, you barely needed me here.” Lara lay back in the bed and held her baby in the crook of her arm, biting back several choice comments for the humorless doctor.
Jor-El’s chef had returned from serving the masses in Kryptonopolis, clearly disgusted with how his master had been