The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [62]
Blood trickled from Donodon’s mouth. The fringe tentacles were limp. He reached up with a gnarled hand. Even his throat had been cut, and he bled profusely. He managed to gasp no more than a fading rattle; then he died in Jor-El’s arms.
Blood smeared Jor-El’s hands. Lara knelt beside him. “It’s not your fault.”
But the scientist stared at his dead friend in abject horror. “It is my fault. The probe…something was wrong.”
He and Lara sat listening to the final collapse of the destroyed machine. The last fragments settled to the ground, still reflecting the light of Rao.
Neither of them saw the muscular form of Nam-Ek slip away from the hiding place from which he had secretly watched the results of his sabotage—just as Commissioner Zod had commanded him to do.
CHAPTER 26
The Kryptonian Council reacted to Donodon’s death with horror, disbelief, and helpless panic—as Zod had known they would. They had always been fools, and now they were fools faced with a dilemma.
The Council had absolutely no idea what to do. In times of great urgency, when difficult decisions needed to be made and action needed to be taken, Zod wished that someone would just take firm control. That was what the people needed. Finally, after his impulsive act of pure inspiration, the doors of possibility would open for him, and the long-overdue changes would be swift and permanent. Even Cor-Zod would have admired how carefully his son had laid down every thread in the pattern….
The recent earthquake and tsunami that had smashed Argo City had already thrown the Council into turmoil. Zod saw a measure of irony in the Argo City disaster—maybe Jor-El’s brother could take satisfaction in having obvious, if tragic, proof of the planet’s seismic instabilities. Jor-El did not need his alien seismic scanning device after all. Since other city leaders were rushing supplies and relief to the damaged peninsula, however, the eleven Council members in Kandor were more worried about the repercussions of Donodon’s death. They were plainly terrified.
Sure enough, the Council declared another emergency session and summoned Jor-El to face their wrath, their justice. He was the perfect scapegoat, and in his own shock and grief, Jor-El might even accept whatever punishment the Council decreed. Zod guessed that he would wear his own mantle of guilt heavier than anything the government leaders could ever impose. Zod bided his time, waiting for the right moment.
Feeling heartsick at what had happened, the stunned scientist had already rushed to the capital on his own. Such a monumental failure and miscalculation from the great Jor-El was even more unsettling to the public than the alien’s death itself. Even Jor-El couldn’t seem to believe what had happened.
“I accept full responsibility.” He stood below the Council in the speaking arena, raising his hands. His face was as white as the robes he wore, but he still carried a weighty dignity about him. Dressings covered dozens of wounds on his hands and his cheeks. “I did not intend for this to happen. Donodon and I were working together. It is a terrible mistake.”
“It is terrible, to be sure,” Jul-Us said sternly. Since the Council session was closed and the access doors were barred, all the tiers of stone seats remained empty. His voice echoed in the cavernous chamber. The mood here was the complete opposite of when a confident Jor-El had faced them at his brother’s side, taking charge and demanding that they listen to his warning. Zod knew he could use this to his advantage.
“In all our centuries of records, there is not a single comparable incident!” said Kor-Te, sounding both disappointed and confused. The Council members drew strength from each other’s indignation.
Personally, Zod was quite pleased with how events had turned out. He had not known how effective Nam-Ek