The Last Days of Krypton by Kevin J. Anderson Read Free Book Online

vaporized the mass-equivalent of a mountain, spraying ash, smoke, and poisonous vapor into the air. Had the southern continent been inhabited, the lava alone would have wiped out every settlement within hundreds of miles.
    The ash and smoke had colored Argo City’s sunsets with flaring oranges and reds. While the city’s artists were inspired by the sheer beauty and color, Zor-El had explained to his wife, Alura, what the burning sky truly meant. “I must go down there and see for myself, take direct measurements. We can’t ignore these danger signs. Something is brewing in our planet’s core, and I have to find out what it is.”
    Cool and intelligent herself, Alura understood his scientific need for answers. “And once you know, what can you do about it?”
    “That’s a premature question. I’ve got to understand a problem before I can fix it. And if the task gets too difficult,” he added, flashing a smile, “I’ll ask Jor-El to help.”
    So he had packed his instruments and supplies and departed in a silver-winged aircraft. The sleek high-altitude vessel had a small enclosed cockpit, a cargo compartment in its belly, and streamlined wings that gathered wind and copious solar energy to drive its levitation engines.
    Alone in the bright silence, Zor-El had circled up above Argo City, cutting through the morning sea mists. From this height, he could view his entire beautiful city, which was practically an island connected to the main continent only by a thin isthmus and five golden bridges. Argo City looked more marvelous than any map or painting.
    He had streaked southward, leaving the curving coastline behind. As he gained altitude, Zor-El extended the flyer’s razor-thin wing panels. The prevailing winds pushed him south, and the turbulence grew worse as he approached the isolated continent. The plume of gray smoke rose like a towering anvil into the sky. Volcanic ash powdered the flyer’s viewscreen and dulled the reflective alloy of the hull, reducing its energy-absorbing abilities, but he pressed forward, eyes intent, brow furrowed.
    From high above, Zor-El studied the mottled terrain, black rocks freshly formed by cooling lava, yellow-and-brown smears that indicated oozing sulfur compounds. As he circled the raw blast crater, he was amazed to note the extent of the destruction. The titanic eruption had knocked down countless trees, flattening them like crushed straw for kilometers around. The ecological impact was incalculable. How many creatures had gone extinct in only a few days? And how many more would die in the coming months and years with the continent so devastated? Only the hardiest life-forms could possibly survive.
    Zor-El had retracted the flyer’s wings and landed on a small patch of level ground outside the active lava area. Lava continued to boil from beneath scabs on the terrain, flowing out like extremely hot pudding. Whenever the lava encountered pools of stagnant water, steam plumes rocketed into the sky.
    Exhilarated by the chaos around him, Zor-El climbed out of the flyer and gathered his pack and equipment. The air was oven-hot on his face. Each breath dried his mouth and seemed to sear his lungs. Alura had prepared him for this, though. Back in Argo City, with her vast botanical knowledge and greenhouses full of exotic species, she had picked a sealed bud—fleshy, soft and moist, the size of an outstretched hand. She had explained what to do with it, and now he silently thanked her.
    Before setting out across the volcanic field, he pulled the bud from his pack. When he stroked the tight sepals at the base of its broken stem, the fleshy petals opened to form a soft and protective cup large enough to cover the lower half of his face. Zor-El placed the petals firmly over his mouth and nose, where they gently adhered; then he tentatively drew in a breath. He could barely smell the flower’s perfume, but the air he inhaled was sweet and fresh, filtered through the stem and the active