The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [21]
Because of his boundless imagination, Jor-El had done this many times before, always optimistic about the prospects of a new technological innovation. All too often, though, his most exotic ideas were deemed too dangerous for a safe and peaceful Kryptonian society, and then they were censored and destroyed. In spite of his many successes, the frequent defeats frustrated Jor-El. The Commissioner (following the orders of the eleven-member Council) was prone to overreact…most of the time.
Jor-El wasn’t so sure about the Phantom Zone, though. It had not turned out to be a portal into parallel universes as he had anticipated, and after his frightening ordeal inside the empty dimension, even Jor-El was uneasy about the possibility that it could be misused. Placing a call via public communication plate, he steeled himself and requested a meeting with Commissioner Dru-Zod.
However, Zod was involved in the funeral preparations for his fourth-level assistant, Bur-Al, who had been tragically killed in the hrakka stables. The Commissioner could not meet with him until late that afternoon.
In the meantime, Jor-El decided to watch the proceedings of the Kryptonian Council, which was in session. The government temple was a huge stepped pyramid at the very center of the city. Each corner was adorned with crystal shards, and atop the pyramid, focusing lenses displayed a high-resolution image of the red sun, projecting the incandescent face of Rao like a spotlight above Kandor.
Jor-El casually entered the observation gallery, following a tall, orange-haired instructor who ushered a group of well-behaved children to reserved seats as part of a class project. He made no mention of who he was, tried to keep a low profile. Even though he wasn’t part of the Council itself, Jor-El had been invited to serve many times. He had always declined the offer, claiming that he had more important things to accomplish. His attitude startled and perplexed the Council members, who couldn’t conceive of anything “more important,” but that only increased his mystique. Even so, they kept the invitation open, offering to create a pending seat for him, if he ever decided to take up politics, like his brother from Argo City. Jor-El did not see that day coming any time soon.
Inside the immense hall, tiers and tiers of stone benches were carved out of the inner walls to accommodate thousands of spectators. Today, surprisingly, the audience tiers were filled. People in fantastically expensive and exotic formal attire crowded shoulder to shoulder with workers dressed in drab uniforms. Something interesting must be on the docket for this session. Jor-El rarely paid attention to the news.
The eleven Council members sat next to one another at a high bench many meters above the floor, where they loomed godlike above those who chose to speak. Jor-El himself had appeared before the eleven powerful representatives on several occasions. Though the Council considered him Krypton’s greatest scientific hero, he could rarely get them to budge from their conservative stance.
Armored Sapphire Guards marched in, leading a prisoner across the tiled arena floor. The man was weighed down with transparent shackles and further restrained by a stun collar around his throat. His clothes were torn and blotched with reddish-brown stains that Jor-El guessed must be old blood. His blond hair was unkempt, his eyes wild-looking, his long face haggard. The prisoner moved with a feral clumsiness—stumbling, cringing, but always alert for a chance to escape. Members of the crowd hissed and drew back, as if the very wrongness of this man might contaminate those in the nearest lines of seats.
The Sapphire Guards hauled the prisoner in front of the Council, then took a step back