Their sun had never been strong to begin with. If it's true for any species that they work best under pressure, then there could be nothing more pressing than a doomsday-saying. Kryptonian geneticists had always been trying to isolate the super-gene, ones that would make for a better breed of offspring: stronger, faster, cleverer. Kryptonian engineers created spaceships, habilitators, and even exploring ways to create whole new planets (which was not an easy task even for the most brilliant of minds). Everything and anything to ensure the survival of their species, by any means necessary. Nothing was too difficult or too taboo. Their growth in technology, knowledge, and rule of law was as impressive as it was desperate.
But, all their efforts came at an abrupt end one summer's day, which actually began with a quiet brilliance. The attack had caught them unawares, their preparation nowhere near ready. Still, parents bundled their children into ships and pods. The smallest ones were accompanied by their wet-nurses and guardians, most of whom would never see either Home or New Krypton. They had chosen their final destinations carefully, programmed the ships to communicate with one another, so they could come together once a suitable planet or two had been located. Of all the planets, they sent the Royal Child to one with a sun so bright it felt like promised land.
Once they arrived, they would continue to grow and evolve. In time, they would become teachers, even conquerors. Kryptonian explorers and scouts all agreed that most indigenous populations they came across were primitive and narrow-minded in their outlook. But Kryptonians would teach them their hard won wisdom. New Krypton would unite them, keep peace, ensure that no world would ever witness or experience the kind of planetwide destruction Krypton had had to endure. They would protect the people, save them from their own weakness.
An aide scurried from one room to the other, his boss at the Space Center was anxious to know. They were always paranoid, always training eyes to the skies above the stratosphere. Their monitors were trying to tell them something, that they might be waiting for some great event to unfold.
The proximity to this brilliant, alien sun awakened the sentient power of stones and boulders. Already altered by timeshift and warp speed, they glowed, like specters awakened from their sleep. And if they had more life, they would've exclaimed with joy at this newfound power. As yet, they could not.
Trapped in their midst, the pod became more agitated. Try as it might, it could not escape the boulders that somehow appeared around it when it exited hyperdrive. The pod stored any information it could find, to be analyzed later.
They brushed past the outer layers of earth's atmosphere. Friction, heat, and radioactivity made those rocks even stronger; strong enough now to seep through the pod's protective layer. Its precious cargo squirmed and cried inconsolably, and no amount of lullabies could console it. It would be best if the child could be put back into stasis, but the pod was already much weakened. It could do nothing but hastened its descent. Hopefully, away from the worst of those rock clusters.
The aides were frantic now. This was so much larger than they had expected. It took them a considerable effort to start moving again. It took longer for them to regain their balance after a two-lifetime worth of shock. Crews were hastily assembled. Go now, think later. Headed to Kansas.
The rocks were not the only one affected, it seemed. The ship wasn't prepared for a radiation of this magnitude and it shook terribly as a sudden charge of power coursed through its circuitry. This condition wasn't something their engineers had prepared it for, but it wasn't going to start a debate with itself. It became more powerful and drained at the same time, but protecting Kal-El was always within its ability.
Solid ground beckoned, they would land in mere minutes possibly. It did not have time to calculate what would happen once it released Kal-El to the outside world, racing instead to alter Kal-El's physiology. But it couldn't do very much. In fact, it could barely do anything at all except maneuvering a last ditch attempt to veer away from its programmed trajectory. Find somewhere safer to land.
As it flew above the landscape, the pod surveyed and cataloged the damage. A whole town, it would seem. Fires burning, stalks charred black, some held on resolutely at the edges of scorched earth. Its information bank did not have any data about the indigenous inhabitants having telepathic ability, but its scanning meters caught spikes of fear nonetheless.
It landed forcefully, but at least there wouldn't be any lasting damage. The ship was running out of energy now, it had done what it could. Kal-El would not perish, but he would not be completely safe from the rocks either. It bought Kal-El time enough until the threat could be properly neutralized, made safe. Safer. It's only other regret, as it released the small boy from stasis, was of his unfinished education. But the others would come, and they would help the boy take his rightful place as Heir.
The pod hatched open. It should not take long for the ship to recharge. It would let Kal-El play a while.