Greg Cox: Man of Steel

Jor-El left Zod’s outstretched hand hanging. His voice held more sorrow than anger.

“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t have abandoned the principles that bound us together in the first place, and taken up the sword against your own people.” He looked Zod squarely in the eye, remembering the youthful idealism that had once burned brightly there. “I honor the man you used to be, Zod. Not the monster you’ve become.”

Zod’s expression darkened and he withdrew his hand. He turned to Tor-An and gestured dismissively at Jor-El.

“Take him away.”

Tor-An carried out Zod’s orders.

He and two other soldiers grabbed Jor-El. They stripped away the scientist’s robes and cape before escorting him from the Council chamber.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Jor-El saw Zod at the center of the throne room, surveying the carnage he had wrought. Rather than rejoicing in his victory, the rebel leader appeared oddly dispirited, as if even he was wondering how things had come to this. Or perhaps he, too, knew that ultimately he was fighting to win a planet that was already lost.

Such a terrible waste , Jor-El thought ruefully. And all the more so if Zod’s insanity keeps me from doing what I must.

Tor-An led the way as his men roughly herded Jor-El down a winding corridor. The muzzle of rifle prodded him, poking him in the back. The unmistakable clamor of war penetrated the outer shell of the tower—from the sound of it, a major battle was unfolding outside.

Jor-El guessed that government forces were attempting to reclaim the structure from the rebels, and to shatter the Sword of Rao. Not that it mattered. All he cared about now was getting away from this pointless conflict and returning to his family, while there was still time to carry out his plan.

My son, he thought. Everything depends on Kal-El.

Then deafening explosions rattled the walls. Shock waves shook the ancient tower, causing the interior lights to flicker erratically. The floor rocked beneath Jor-El’s feet, making it hard for him to keep his balance. Flakes of powdered bone, shell, and nacre rained down from the ceiling.

Glancing about uncertainly, Tor-An quickened his pace—whether to join the conflict or escape it, Jor-El couldn’t be sure. A major artery curved ahead of them and the party rounded the turn.

Only to find Kelex hovering in the middle of the hallway.

“Out of the way!” Tor-An snarled.

Jor-El was suddenly very glad that the ’bot had accompanied him to the Council tower. He squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of what was certain to occur next.

Activated by preprogrammed defensive protocols, Kelex’s central display panel emitted an intense flash of light, blinding Tor-An and his men. The rebels staggered backward, rubbing their eyes. Tor-An swore profanely, tears streaming.

Jor-El took advantage of the men’s disorientation. Acting swiftly, he drove his elbow into one rebel’s face and wrenched the rifle from his hands. At the same time, he delivered a vigorous side kick to the other man’s chest. The stunned soldier tumbled to the floor, his weapon flying from his grip.

That left only Tor-An to block Jor-El’s escape. Blinking tears from his eyes, Zod’s henchman drew his sidearm. Murder was written on his face, as clearly as the glyphs engraved on his pistol. He was about to fire when Kelex slammed into his skull. Burnished steel smacked loudly against flesh and blood, and Tor-An dropped to the floor, unconscious.

Jor-El was grateful for the robot’s solid construction. He broke into a run, clutching the captured rifle, as he dashed away from the dazed rebels. Kelex zipped through the air after him, accelerating to keep up. The ’bot had been designed for household service and assistance, not fleeing enemy soldiers.

Jor-El shouted out a command.

“Get me Lara!”

Kelex complied at once. The three-dimensional display at the robot’s core reconfigured itself, sculpting a real-time rendering of Lara’s face. Concern showed on her graceful features, while the walls of the medical suite could be glimpsed in the background. Her voice issued from the image’s moving lips.

“Jor, what’s going on? They’re shelling the capital.”

Kelex hovered before Jor-El, who called out as he ran. He knew that his own face was displayed on Kelor, as well.

“It’s Zod,” he said breathlessly. “He’s finally done it.”

Understanding dawned on Lara’s projected image. She was well aware of Zod’s bitter disputes with the Council—and of his capacity for violence. Jor-El cursed the man for choosing today of all days to stage his senseless coup. Lara had deserved at least one blissful day with the baby—they both had—but Zod had stained this sacred occasion with blood.

That alone was a crime beyond forgiveness.

On Kelex’s chest, Lara’s eyes widened in alarm. “Behind you!” she shouted.

He spun around to see more of Zod’s troops rounding the corner behind him. As they entered the corridor, he fired on the rebels, momentarily driving them back, and then continued running for cover. Kelex kept pace with him, and Jor-El spoke urgently to his wife.

“Listen to me, Lara. You have to ready the launch.” He gulped air. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Flawlessly rendered lips opened to protest, but before she could speak, he signaled Kelex to terminate the transmission. He hated cutting her off like that, but they couldn’t waste precious time discussing the issue. Plus, he was going to need all his wits about him if he was to make it safely back to her and Kal.

Forgive me, my love, he thought. And be ready when I return.

The hallway ahead was littered with the lifeless bodies of guards and functionaries the Sword of Rao had cut down on their way to the Council chamber. Scorch marks scarred the walls. Glimpsing daylight ahead, Jor-El raced out of the curving corridor onto a wide terrace overlooking the embattled city below. Kelex was close beside him.

The sun had not yet set, and was casting crimson shadows over a sprawling expanse of ancient temples, palaces, arenas, and towers. Opalescent domes and spires gleamed in the twilight—biology itself had been harnessed to create Kandor, which was now under attack by men and women who literally had been born to defend it.

Civil war raged beneath the dimming red sky. The Sapphire Guard, Krypton’s elite defense force, had responded to Zod’s provocation in full force. Guards firing from the maws of flying gunships directed particle beam rifles at the insurgents, who fired back with their own weapons. The bio-engineered aircraft resembled huge mutant invertebrates whose segmented exoskeletons were dense enough to withstand heavy punishment. Globular thrusters, sprouting from the underside of the ships, propelled them through the twilight sky.

Blazing gouts of plasma and charged neutrons streaked through the air, spreading death and destruction. A concentrated barrage of plasma from the rebels holding the tower got past the Guard’s defenses, splattering gelatinous fire over an unlucky scarab-class cruiser. Screaming soldiers, their bodies engulfed in flame, leapt to their deaths even as the crippled scarab spiraled downward toward the very terrace upon which Jor-El now stood.

No! he thought. I can’t die yet. There’s too much to be done…

His muscles tensed beneath his skinsuit. He braced himself to jump out of the way of the falling aircraft, but at the last minute an explosion blew out one side of the scarab, sending it veering off to the right. It plummeted past the terrace, narrowly missing Jor-El and Kelex, then slammed into a domed temple several stories below.