The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [51]
Inside the echoing chamber, Zod claimed an important seat reserved for prestigious observers, as was his due, and he waited. Finally, wearing white robes emblazoned with their family symbols, the eleven members filed in, attempting to look imposing from their lofty positions. When they had taken their seats, Jul-Us commanded the great doors to open into the arena below.
Pointed forward by the Sapphire Guards, the elfin alien strutted in, smiling as he crossed the floor of hexagonal tiles, which looked like a game board. But this was no game. Donodon stopped and stood looking up at the Council seats that towered high above him. He slowly blinked his enormous eyes and twitched his beard-feelers.
Without introduction, the alien spoke. “Greetings, Council of Krypton!” The audience stopped muttering, as if hundreds of people held their breath at once. The blue-skinned alien bent backward to look at the high benches. Clearly finding the situation unsatisfactory, he brushed his hands along his lumpy pockets, searching for something. “My apologies, but staring upward like this is not conducive to a productive conversation.”
He selected a device from one pocket, held it close to his beard-feelers as if sniffing it, then swapped it for another gadget. He paced in a small circle, looking down at the hexagonal tiles, and pointed the glowing end of the device at the floor. “I see, yes, this will do it.”
Four Sapphire Guards approached the alien on the speaking floor, but paused, afraid he might open fire with his glowing device. High above, Jul-Us sat, his face reddening. He shouted, “Explain yourself! We have not granted you—”
Donodon seemed oblivious to the reaction. As he used his small device, the thick tiles in the floor popped loose and bounced off to the side like discarded puzzle pieces, exposing packed sand and dirt under the foundation. Still gripping his strange tool, the alien played the beam over the ground, turning in a full circle. As if by magic, a structure began to build itself out of the loose grains. “Do not worry,” he said offhandedly. “I will restore everything when we are finished.”
Sand and clumps of dirt piled together, building higher, until a corkscrewing ramp rose up. Dizzying patterns, ornate decorations, and alien hieroglyphics adorned the sides. Pillars sprouted from around the platform’s base to shore it up. The growing podium lifted Donodon above the speaking floor until he reached the level of the flustered Council, where he could face them directly. “Much better!”
Finished with his demonstration, the alien switched off his handheld device and tucked it back into an available pocket. “Simple electrostatic rearrangement and binding of sand grains. Nothing to fear.” He looked down at the complex structure. “Though I admit I may have been showing off.”
“Intriguing,” Zod whispered from his reserved seat in the audience tiers. Despite the alien’s unassuming demeanor, Donodon had just demonstrated extraordinary powers. Was there a threat implied? Zod wondered how much more the creature could do. Jor-El himself would have been impressed.
Donodon stretched his wrinkled blue face in a broad grin. Atop his platform he turned in a slow circle, surveying the hundreds of people in the audience, as if storing and cataloguing their images inside a sharp mind. He paused briefly as he faced Commissioner Zod’s private box, then turned to the Council bench again.
“Why have you come here?” Jul-Us demanded. Zod detected a faint quaver in the old man’s voice.
“We Kryptonians prefer our privacy,” barked Kor-Te, so nervous that he could barely keep his seat.
Donodon brushed a few stray sand grains from his jumpsuit. “A pebble beneath a flowing stream can’t ignore the water that exists all around it. Your solar system exists as part of the twenty-eight known galaxies, whether you like it or not.”
“We’ve done fine for more than a thousand years. We protect ourselves,” said Silber-Za. “Krypton wants no trouble with outsiders.”
Donodon responded