The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [9]
Lara selected what he had called the “master crystal,” which glowed a bright emerald green. When she slid it out of its socket, the crystal’s light died away; she turned it around and reinserted the opposite end.
Suddenly, the glassy shaft glowed a bright scarlet. The hovering silvery rings that framed the dimensional hole began to spin like thin, razor-edged wheels, then flipped over, reversed position—
—and ejected Jor-El headfirst from the other universe. Sprawling onto the floor where he had fallen, he brushed off his ser viceable white pants and tunic—which were unstained from his ordeal—and shook his head to clear it.
She ran to him, took his trembling arm, and helped him to his feet. “Jor-El! Are you all right?”
He could barely find words to speak. At first he flushed, then grinned. “What a fascinating experience.” When he looked at her, his blue eyes sparkling, he seemed to see more of Lara than anyone else ever had. “You saved my life. More than that, you saved me from being trapped forever in that…Phantom Zone.”
She held out her hand. “My name is Lara. Sorry for the unorthodox way of making your acquaintance.” She decided to wait awhile before asking his permission to paint the twelve obelisks.
CHAPTER 3
Rao’s turbulent storm created a silent light show of auroras that night. Colorful, ethereal curtains spilled across Krypton’s sky.
Since she had been his rescuer, Jor-El invited Lara to dine with him out on the balcony of the manor house. This gesture of gratitude was not a mere formality; it was the right thing to do. He had laughed when her parents apologized because their brash daughter had disturbed his work. If Lara hadn’t interrupted him in his laboratory, who knew how long he might have been trapped in that empty place? He very much wanted to have dinner with her, and to get to know her better.
Now the two of them sat together in the warm, calm night, eating from many small plates, each of which contained a savory delicacy. Jor-El was something of a loner, not much for casual talk, but conversation with Lara proved to be surprisingly easy.
Using a dainty pearl-tipped prong, she picked up a spiced morsel of eggfruit from a gilt-edged plate, leaving the last piece for him. “When I’ve attended fancy banquets in Kandor, the food is usually so lovely that the taste can’t possibly live up to its presentation.” She removed the lid from a small enameled pot, drawing a deep breath of the warm peppery steam that rose from stewed fleshy leaves wrapped around edible skewers. “This, though, is all delicious.”
“I instructed my chef, Fro-Da, to prepare a special meal, but I don’t usually pay much attention to eating. Too busy with other things.” With his fingers he took a small triangular patty. He had no idea what sort of meat it was or what ingredients Fro-Da had put into the sauce. “I’ve been to banquets where the dinner is more of a performance than a meal.”
Lara brightened. “Nothing wrong with a performance, if that’s what you’re looking for. I enjoy the levitating ballets of Borga City and Kandor’s opera tapestries, but when I’m hungry, I just want to eat.” They both laughed.
As if eavesdropping on their conversation, the portly chef arrived and presented the colorful dessert course with a minimum of fanfare. “We allow our food to be a celebration of itself,” said Fro-Da. Jor-El tried to thank him, but the chef disappeared along with a flurry of helpers who cleared away the dishes.
The two of them looked up into a dark sky suffused with pastel colors. In previous years, Jor-El had designed and constructed four telescopes of various apertures on the rooftops of his buildings. Though the Council would never “waste time” staring into the heavens, Jor-El had taken it upon himself to produce a detailed sky survey. He gazed at the stars, cataloguing the different types, searching for