Author's Note and Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics or the movie 'Man of Steel', nor any characters within, and I make no profit from this other than the satisfaction of a job well-done...

I was born on Krypton. I lived most of my life there, as a soldier under the command of General Zod. I was loyal to him, to the ideal of a renewed Krypton that he shared with us all, even those of us who had turned against our people and rebelled. And for our patriotism, we were sentenced for all eternity to the Phantom Zone. Only one man knew the truth, that our world was already in its death throes; it took his sacrifice and the sacrifice of our world to free us from our prison.

Jor-El, father of the one the Earth humans would call Superman. He knew, he tried to tell us. He even tried to tell Zod, his best friend, but nobody wanted to believe him. Who would have figured that by turning renegade he proved more loyal to Krypton, to a dying world, than all of us together? What incredible irony…a scientist and a renegade, and he stayed behind on his doomed planet that he might send his only offspring, the heretical child that was Krypton's last hope, to the stars with the Codex embedded in his cells, to rebuild our world and rejuvenate our people.

You see, for the last millennia of Krypton's life we had reproduced artificially, genetically engineering our people to serve in whatever role Kryptonian society needed, and for most of that time it had worked beautifully. The soldiers and police forces kept the peace, the scientists expanded our knowledge base and broadened our minds, exploring the boundaries of the universe, the administrative castes ensured all were provided for, and everyone was happy. What need had we to change our ways? We had honestly believed we had reached the pinnacle of human achievement.

How were we to know we had gone so wrong? Certainly, there had been setbacks, but for every step backward, Kryptonian science and knowledge took perhaps ten steps forward. Maybe a hundred; the fact that we had become capable of progressing by such leaps and bounds was a testament to Kryptonian superiority, to Kryptonian perfection. To Kryptonian hubris.

When we, the last survivors of the Phantom Zone, had found ourselves freed by the fracturing of our world, we set out among the twenty-nine known galaxies, searching, pleading to whoever would listen, be it Rao or some other world's deity, that we, the last of our once-mighty race, would not starve before we'd had a chance to restart Kryptonian civilization. But when we'd finally come to Earth, and had encountered the long-lost son of Jor-El himself, he'd fought us. He'd told the General that Krypton had had its chance, and it was Earth's turn now for greatness. And because Zod had been unrepentant in his quest to rebuild Krypton on the bones of the Earth humans, Kal-El had broken Zod's neck. Our last World Engine, the perfection of terraforming technology, had also been destroyed, it's Phantom drives rendered into so much scrap by the so-called 'Man of Steel'…and he'd tried to send us back to the Phantom Zone. And for most of us, he'd succeeded. Except for me.

My name is Faora-Ul. Why the Phantom Zone finally rejected me, I have no answer for. But I am here, on Earth, living among the surviving humans of our race. You see, Kryptonians are also human beings, though we've evolved differently by the influence of Rao, our red sun, and the heavy gravity of Krypton itself. In the light of Earth's primary, for it is a main sequence yellow star, the bodies of Kryptonian humans acquire great strength and nigh-unlimited powers. Also, Earth's atmospherics take some time to get used to, but they also play a part in our nourishment beyond Earth-human ken..it has taken some time for me, but since my final rejection by the Phantom Zone I have come to see Kal-El's wisdom. I, too, now believe the Earth-humans have a chance now to achieve that which Krypton never could. Greatness without arrogance. Perfection without hubris. And though he knows it not, I have pledged to support him in his endeavor to elevate the last of our race, the humans of Earth, to that greatness.

My name is Faora-Ul. I am a survivor of a doomed planet and an endangered race, and here begins my tale…..

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Earth-humans say I'm very pretty. Everywhere I go I get complimented on my short black hair, my pale complexion, my blue eyes, my curves, my fragile yet strong appearance. I've taken the name of Farrah Hale, as it's the closest to my birth name, and only a very few know my true Kryptonian name. I smile at their compliments, and I watch their faces light up with joy at my smile. I live in Smallville, Kansas, not too far from downtown and not too far from the Kent farm where Kal-El grew up. Seeing the way of living here, It's hard not to hear Jor-El's words about choosing one's own destiny; I wandered for a time after being rejected mysteriously by the Phantom Zone, mourning my lost commander and my lost world, and when I came to Smallville, I suddenly realized what Jor-El meant. And I subsequently realized that I could change my life too, and reject my genetically engineered upbringing. I was a soldier, see, but here I realized I could be anything and anyone I wanted to be, without sacrificing my heritage. Instead of fighting all the time for a world that was now no more than dust, I could turn my abilities to helping others. Not like Kal-El, obviously, but on a smaller scale, much like the town I'd wandered into and decided to let work on me, like a world engine in the town's own right. A Faora-Ul Engine.

So every day I go down to the Kent farm, I tell Martha how wrong I was, how wrong my people were, I apologize for throwing her around and trying to kill her, and like always, she hugs me and says I'm forgiven and I should let it go, that I'm not that person anymore. Well, I know I'm not that person anymore. Sub-Commander Faora-Ul is dead and gone, just like Krypton. Now it's just Faora, or Farrah Hale to everyone else but Martha and Lois and Clark…

After I get done helping Martha on her farm, I go downtown to the local market, and I help out in any way I can. Of course there are one or two that recognize me from that fight with the US military, and I kinda shrink back a bit and let things cool down, hoping that they can forgive as well, as easily as Martha can, and I'm always surprised when it turns out they do. And no one judges me. Must be that small-town spirit that everyone talks about… But I do what I can, I don't make waves. No one forgets that I'm Kryptonian, but I don't go around advertising my powers either, I just use them in whatever capacity to help is available and welcome. Otherwise I'm Farrah Hale, not Faora-Ul. I used to be a killer, now I'm a farmer. And I like it.

I think Jor-El would be proud of what I've proven.