Free The Last Days of Krypton by Kevin J. Anderson

himself and no one else. No one else bothered to see the potential; those eleven cretins on the Council were incapable of original thought.
    Alone with his toys, he marveled at one object after another: a “Rao beam”—an intense burning ray that could be used for important construction work but also, obviously, as a potential weapon. Powerful engines that could drive a rocket into space. Memory crystals that could cause a person to forget or remember anything that a controller desired. Self-guided levitating daggers that could be directed to a specific target—what had Jor-El been thinking with that one?
    Zod rationalized his acts by following the letter of his mandate—in a sense. Though he kept them for himself, he did remove potentially dangerous discoveries from the hands of the people. But he simply could not bear to waste such brilliance. Who could guarantee that Krypton would never need these discoveries? It was insane to discard such amazing items just because shortsighted politicians were afraid of change. He trusted himself to be a good steward for the world, unlike the pampered and self-congratulatory members of the Council. He certainly didn’t trust them.
    Zod’s resentment toward the eleven inept blowhards had been building for a long time. He saw them for what they were: mere symbols. Though they had power available to them, they did nothing with it.
    He was the son of the great Council Head Cor-Zod, who had ruled well, married late, and lived to a ripe old age. The man had taught his son the nuances of power and government, how to get things done and take satisfaction in his accomplishments. In his younger years, Zod had always assumed he would have a Council seat of his own when one became available; in fact, he had expected to step in when his father died.
    But the other Council members had snubbed him. Rather than offer him a seat equal to their own, they had appointed Zod to the relatively unimportant Commission for Technology Acceptance. It was a humiliating blow at the time, a consolation prize. The supercilious leaders claimed he was “too young, not yet ready to become a Council member.” Mastering his temper, Zod had listened to their excuses and rationalizations. To fill his father’s seat, the Council appointed a wealthy nobleman named Al-An. Zod soon realized that Al-An had extravagantly bribed the Council.
    Until that moment, Zod had been so confident in his legitimate claim that he had never considered paying off the other members. He’d been too naïve to see how corrupt the Council was. He had believed in fairness, in a sense of duty and achievement, and now his expected career had been destroyed because of it. Though he felt outraged and cheated, he contained his fury.
    Zod had learned a valuable lesson from his father, though. “Power lies not in a name or title, but in what one does with it.” And, oh, he intended to do something with what power he had.
    Taking that to heart, he had once mused aloud to Nam-Ek, “They could have given me a meaningless appointment as a Council member, and I would have accomplished nothing beyond wearing a fine white robe with my family symbol. I could have endlessly debated issues that would never be decided. Instead, they gave me something far more valuable: a position I can use.”
    Rather than throwing a tantrum upon being bypassed, Zod stoically accepted his work in the Commission. Unlike the Council members, he understood how much power that position could generate, if handled properly.
    Even for routine daily business, the eleven-member Council required a unanimous vote to enact any law…virtually assuring that no meaningful decision could ever be made. As a recalcitrant member he would have indeed had power, since a single dissenting vote could derail any new project, law, or proclamation. But that was only the power to stall, not to succeed. Zod believed he had a much greater destiny. He wanted to leave his mark on Krypton.
    Over the