Greg Cox - Man of Steel

“Long ago, in an era of expansion, our race spread out through the stars, seeking new worlds to settle upon. This scout ship was one of thousands launched into the void.”

A vast interstellar armada spread out across the galaxy, leaving Krypton’s red sun behind. Clark watched, rapt, as the history of a people he had never known played out before his eyes.

“We built outposts on other planets, using great machines to reshape the environments to our needs.”

Kryptonian explorers, sealed inside rigid space suits, set foot on distant planets, some inhospitable to life. Gargantuan World Engines, resembling immense walking oil rigs, set about transforming alien environments into something more suitable. Skies changed colors. Land masses shifted. Icecaps melted into oceans…

“For a hundred thousand years, our civilization flourished, accomplishing wonders.” At that moment, Clark caught a trace of melancholy in the hologram’s voice.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Space exploration was abandoned,” Jor-El explained. “We exhausted our natural resources. As a result, our planet’s core became unstable. Eventually, our military leader—General Zod—attempted a coup. But by then, it was too late.”

Civil war erupted across the myriad screens. A paramilitary force, armed with futuristic weapons and aircraft, turned on the government, which had its own defenders. The alien gunships resembled flying crustaceans—scarabs, trilobites, and crabs.

Bursts of white-hot plasma streaked a dim red sky. Explosions and crashing ships wreaked havoc on an alien metropolis where curved domes and spires reflected the biology-based architecture of the scout ship. Clark was saddened to see that his hidden history was one of war and destruction. It sounded as if Krypton was no better than Earth, in some respects.

It had its bullies, too.

The planet itself began to come apart on the screens. Veins of glowing green magma—most likely radioactive— broke through the crust, erupting all across the globe. It was like Krakatoa or Vesuvius, times one billion.

“Your mother and I, however, foresaw the coming calamity and took steps to ensure your survival. I knew the ancient scout ships were still out there. Left to rust on worlds we’d once considered colonizing.”

Like Earth, Clark realized. Twenty thousand years ago.

Jor-El crossed the bridge, leading him past the threedimensional screens to the platform overlooking the large, liquid-filled compartment. Clark was briefly distracted by the reference to his birth mother, but focused his attention on what the hologram was saying.

“This is a Genesis Chamber. Every scout ship came equipped with one. In the past, all Kryptonians were conceived in chambers such as this. Every child was designed to fulfill a predetermined role in our society as a worker, a warrior, a leader, and so on. Zod had his own vision for the future, one that only included the bloodlines he deemed worthy. But your mother and I envisioned something even more revolutionary.”

Jor-El turned away from the chamber to look at Clark.

“We believed that Krypton had lost something precious,” he continued. “The element of choice, of chance. What if a child dreamed of becoming something other than what society intended for him? What if he aspired to something greater? We wanted to restore that possibility. We wanted to eliminate the class distinctions entirely.”

He gazed proudly at his son. His brown eyes held both warmth and wisdom.

“You were the embodiment of that belief, Kal. Krypton’s first live birth in centuries. That’s why we risked so much to save you.”

It was a lot to absorb. Clark wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about all of this.

I’m not just an alien, he thought, I’m a special alien. One of a kind?

Alone?

Lost in thought, he followed Jor-El to the armory he had visited before. The space suits and skintight garments were still hanging in their nooks. Fashions from a dead planet.

“Was anyone else saved?” Clark asked. “What about you? My mother?”

“My memories extend only up until the moment your ship was launched. Beyond that, I can know nothing.” His voice held sympathy, yet little in the way of hope for those left behind. “Given the enormity of the disaster threatening our world, it seems unlikely that anyone could have survived.”

Clark gathered that the real Jor-El had downloaded this virtual version into the key found in the starcraft that had brought him to Earth as a baby. He must have planned that “Kal-El” would be drawn to the buried scout ship.

“Why didn’t you come with me?” Clark asked.

“We couldn’t, Kal. No matter how much we loved you, we were a product of our world’s failures as much as Zod was, tied to its fate. Trapped in ancient tribal divisions. We knew that.”

His sad, thoughtful tone reminded Clark of his dad, Jonathan Kent, who had also fretted about his son’s future—and what it meant for Earth.

“So I’m alone,” Clark said.

Jor-El shook his head.

“You are not. You’re as much a child of Earth now as you are of Krypton. You can embody the best of both worlds. The dream your mother and I gave our lives to preserve.

“The people of Earth are different from us, it’s true,” he continued, “but I believe that’s a good thing. They won’t make the same mistakes we did. Not if you guide them, Kal. Not if you bring them hope.”

He gestured at the big red “S” on the blue suit, then drew back his own robes to reveal the same “S” embossed on his own uniform.

“That’s what this symbol means. That’s what you can bring them.”

Hope.

Clark emerged from the Fortress feeling like a different person.

I probably look like one, too, he mused.

The steel-blue suit, which had once belonged to a distant ancestor, fit him perfectly. The crest of the House of El was emblazoned in crimson upon his broad chest. A gust of Arctic wind lifted the red cape that now flowed from his shoulders. The colorful outfit was like nothing he had ever worn before, but felt natural upon his frame.

His face was clean-shaven. Now that he knew where he came from, he didn’t feel a need to hide his features any longer. It felt as if he was becoming somebody new.

But who?

He stopped and stood framed beneath the arched entrance of the space craft, lit from behind by the bright interior lights. The incandescent glow cast his shadow across the snowy mountain peak. Jor-El’s voice echoed in his memory as he lifted his eyes to the clear blue polar sky. As it did, he recalled his own urgent questions.

“Why am I so different from them?” he had asked.

“Earth’s sun is younger, brighter than Krypton’s was,”

Jor-El had explained back in the armory. “Your cells have drunk its radiation, strengthening your muscles, your skin, your senses. Earth’s gravity is weaker, its atmosphere more nourishing. You’ve grown stronger here than I ever could have imagined.” He indicated the blue-and-red skinsuit. “The only way to know how strong is to keep testing your limits.”

With that thought, Clark turned toward the sun. He felt its light and heat upon his face. He looked out across the desolate mountain range, full of dramatic peaks and crevasses. The looming mountains made the giant oil rig seem like a kid’s climbing gym, by comparison. An icy ledge ended in a steep precipice several yards away. A matching ledge rose up again in the distance.