The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [49]
After saying their goodbyes, her parents and the remainder of their entourage departed for the studio in Kandor. When Lara looked again at the obelisk, she nodded to herself. Others viewed the great scientist as merely the sum of his achievements, but Lara’s painting showed Jor-El’s inner strength and genius, revealing that it was he who had created those achievements, not the achievements that created the man. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw what she had done.
CHAPTER 20
Once his brother had listened to his story and interpreted the seismic data, Zor-El fully believed in the impending disaster and knew that something had to be done. Jor-El had not even seen the actual readings, but the brewing disaster in the planet’s core was severe enough to be obvious to him.
And regardless of the data itself, Zor-El had actually been there. He had witnessed the planet’s restless heart in a more visceral way than his brother could ever believe. Zor-El had watched the eruptions, seen the chilling emerald-green mineral shift, and he knew that something wasn’t right.
Similarly, having faced the eleven-member Kryptonian Council in Kandor, he was able to instinctively interpret their political mood. His brother was a genius in all matters related to science, but Zor-El understood the lumbering machinery of bureaucracy and governments. He grasped the herdlike lethargy of an entrenched decision-making body.
Zor-El headed back to Argo City, deep in thought. He could not let the whole planet die because of the shortsighted members of the government. If they wanted data, he would give them data, but after seeing the Council in session, he doubted even the data would be enough.
However, there were other ways to influence the momentum of a large government. It seemed petty, but momentum could be diverted by pressure from other sources. If he could secure other allies, influence independent cities to join him, then Kandor’s government would take the path of least resistance and flow with the main current.
Jor-El would never think of such tactics. He would present the data and let the numbers speak for themselves, even if the Council was deaf to that kind of language.
Zor-El stopped briefly in Borga City on his way home, hoping to rally support, technical assistance, and funding from Shor-Em, the city leader there. Shor-Em was something of a stuffed shirt who pretended to pride himself on his forward thinking and public works. He made no secret of the fact that he expected to be appointed to a position on the Council as soon as another seat came open; the man had said more than once that he simply couldn’t understand why the great Jor-El would ever have declined “such an honor.”
Zor-El considered the man a colleague rather than a friend, someone with similar interests and civic problems. Though Argo City had the means to continue the seismic investigations alone, Zor-El firmly believed that other city leaders should participate. He had to gather a political rationale as well as a scientific one.
Borga City was located on the other side of the Redcliff Mountains, where several drainages created an expansive marsh carpeted with spiky grasses taller than a man. Rivulets of brown and green water tangled like the threads of a crumpled tapestry interweaving the marsh.
The city itself was suspended above the swampy ground, a complex of interconnected platforms made from multicolored alloy plates and interlocked boards of treated wood. Tethered to huge pilings sunk deep into the muck, the platforms were held aloft by colorful balloons adorned with jewels. To fill their balloons, Borgans captured lighter-than-air gases that boiled up from the swamp.
In peaceful times tourists often came there to take in the marsh vapors and enjoy one of the many independently floating spas. Boatmen netted fat water beetles that were considered a culinary delicacy; others harvested reeds and grasses for the renowned fabric artists who