Chapter 20: Common Men, Uncommon Goals

Argo City, Krypton

High Council Compound

From his perch at the head of the long, black-and-white marble dining table, Jor's eyes landed on each of the Council members as they ate their gourmet breakfast. The members represented eight of the nine royal Houses of Krypton, the House of El being the ninth, successors to the founders of the nation of Krypton. For generations, the nine families have ruled, leading by a sense of privilege and entitlement as much as by intellect and hard work.

His gaze settled on Kal, the heir to the House of El. Kal was speaking to Lady Milla Uma to his right and to Lord Bastor Zarv to his left. From this distance, Jor couldn't hear their conversation but, from the nodding heads and smiling faces of Uma and Zarv, they were engrossed in whatever Kal was saying to them.

Zarv and Uma, both in their late seventies, gray hair and arthritis aside, were formidable members of the Council, sharp minds and even sharper tongues. Yet, even in the two years since Jor had been away from Krypton, the slight signs of weariness he'd glimpsed in them before he and Lara had left for the States showed deeper now. Perhaps it was Zod's escape that had added more age and wrinkle lines around their eyes and mouth. Or maybe it was just the sheer exhaustion of decades of rule, a constant reminder that the fate of the country and thousands of Kryptonians rested on shoulders too frail to carry the weight of such a burden.

Such thinking Jor understood all too well, for he and Lara had felt the same way. And we selfishly turned over the responsibility of executive rule to the Council and H'el. Now, however, as he perused the chatting faces of old family friends and long ago political allies, men and women nearing or past retirement age, guilt bubbled in Jor's acidic belly. While he'd help free Krypton from Zod's despotic rule, he hadn't fully done his duty to his House or his country, thinking he and Lara had already given too much of themselves to their country when they'd been forced to give away their son. And once Jor, Lara, and the reinstated High Council had managed to stabilize the country and Jor had thought it safe to retrieve Kal from the American orphanage, it was too late. Kal had been living with another family and the Kents were in the process of adopting him.

That had been two years after Jor and Lara had abandoned Kal. And as much as they wanted him back, needed their son to know he was loved by his birth parents and always had a home with them, how could they uproot Kal again? How could they justify swooping in and ripping him from a loving home? How could they hurt the very people who'd opened their home and heart to their son in his greatest time of need?

They couldn't.

They didn't.

And Lara and Jor had never had another child, not that a second could ever replace the first.

Jor picked up his cup of coffee, blowing before taking a fortifying sip. The Café Parisian blend with its Kryptonian vanilla, sweet orange and Mexican liqueur was a favorite of Jor's, one that no Starbucks in the States had ever managed to get just the way he liked the hot brew. His dark, penetrating gaze fell upon H'el. The Regent, who sat at the opposite end of the table, black hair skimming the top of his formal robe, gold-and-white with the K insignia over the left shoulder was a none too subtle reminder of the power entrusted to him. And wholly inappropriate for breakfast with H'el's peers, but Jor now recognized that H'el no longer thought of the members of the High Council as his peers, his equals.

If he ever had. And that was the thorny truth that pricked at Jor's pride, giving him migraines of remorse no amount of aspirin could alleviate.

"So Kal, I've read your biography on Thomas Wayne." The pockets of conversation at the table ceased, and Jor, like everyone else, focused his gaze on the speaker – Lord Paxill Gul, the most senior member of the Council. "I must say, though we Kryptonians rarely travel abroad and tend to find the exploits of Americans vulgar and unimpressive, I've always had respect for Thomas Wayne, as well as his father and son. They were men of medicine, science, and business, but also men with humanitarian hearts. They gave of themselves when they could've ignored the suffering of others, nothing vulgar or unimpressive about that. And you, young man," Gul said, nodding his head, his goblet chin swaying back and forth, "did a most fine job capturing the nuisance of Thomas Wayne, Wayne Industries, and the legacy and impact of both on not only the business world but on the everyday citizens of Gotham."

That was a surprise to Jor. He had no idea Gul or anyone else on the Council had independent knowledge of his son. Now, however, he wondered what else they knew about Kal.

"That's very kind of you to say, Lord Gul." Kal inclined his head to the older man who sat across the table from him.

Gul waved away Kal's thanks. "Oh, my boy, I thought I told you to call me Paxill, no need for such formality between us."

And when did Kal have a conversation with Gul? Not that it mattered to Jor because clearly his son had charmed the irascible councilman, which could only work to Jor and Kal's benefit.

"Thank you, but Thomas Wayne was an excellent subject and I had the honor of being able to interview his widow. Much of my insight came from Martha Wayne herself, a philanthropist in her own right."

Modesty from an El, Jor thought, unsure how the Council would view such a character trait. Kryptonian royals respected intelligence, competence, and power. And while Kal undoubtedly possessed the first two, Jor knew he had to convince the Council he also had the third, or they would never fully accept him as one of them. And if they don't, how will we ever find out what H'el is up to and retrieve the antidote for Diana?

Just the thought of Diana had Jor's stomach churning again. He and Kal didn't have the time Jor's plan was taking, and neither did his daughter-in-law. The woman was a fighter, to be sure, but strength of body and spirit wouldn't save her. Only the antidote will do that. And I'm stuck in this compound playing a political chess match with H'el.

And Jor was fed up. The situation was intolerable and Jor quite desperate for a positive resolution, which, glancing at the stone-faced H'el as he shot boulder size daggers of envy and malice at Kal, would not occur unless something happened to change the game in a major way.

"I must admit," Gul continued, "we were all surprised to learn that Lord and Lady El had conceived a son during their time in America." Gul directed his attention to Jor. "Those were barbaric days back then, my friend, unfortunately, I still remember them well."

So did Jor.

"They were indeed," Lady Uma chimed in; lips thinned as if she'd consumed something distasteful. "Back then, many of us sought to flee Krypton but so few actually succeeded. You and Lara were of the lucky few."

Not so lucky, at least not completely, for they'd been found and hauled back to Krypton.

Lady Uma patted Clark's hand. "Krypton under Zod was no place for an El, young Kal. From what I've read of you on the Internet, you were raised on a farm."

Kal nodded. "Yes, ma'am, Martha and Jonathan Kent, my adoptive parents, raised me in Smallville, Kansas."

Riveted, the Council listened as Kal told them of his simple life that, in truth, wasn't as simplistic as he'd made it sound. All the while, accepting Lady Uma's grandmotherly fussing in a way that would make Lara and Martha proud.

"And that's how I met my wife. She was the most beautiful girl I'd ever laid eyes on, and I was convinced she was too pretty, too smart, and too rich to ever fall for a no frills, no money guy like me."

Uma and the three other female Council members smiled then shook their heads, their eyes sparkling with wisdom.

"If she were a shallow female," Lady Sol said, her long, blonde-and-white hair pulled into a high bun, "then she would've failed to fully see the sweet boy before her, as well as the amazing man he would eventually grow into. And if that had happened, she would've been undeserving of you."

Lady Uma patted Kal's hand again. "But, apparently, young Diana was far wiser than young Kal."

Kal grinned. "She still is, though her ego needs no stroking, so I'll swear you all to secrecy."

The women laughed, the men smiled, and Jor arched a stunned eyebrow at his masterful son.

Clark . . . and he was most definitely being Clark Kent and not Kal El, had the heads of eight ruling families eating from the palm of his hands. By just being himself. Well, I'll be damned.

"She is brilliant," Gul said. "Krypton could use that kind of business smarts on the Council."

Murmurs of agreement followed Gul's unexpected statement, which had Jor inwardly thanking Rao. If this conversation continued the way he hoped it would, it would make implementing his plan that much easier. But that also required Kal . . . Clark to play this moment just right.

"The Council also requires someone the people can relate to, a common man with royal blood, a bridge, if you will." This was spoken by Lord Bastor Zarv, a man whose opinion carried much weight on the Council and Krypton at-large.

H'el snarled, but only Jor seemed to have noticed. Everyone else was focused on Clark, and Clark on them, the fact that he'd entered the dining room five minutes late and breathing as if he'd run a marathon long since forgotten and forgiven.

"New blood is what we need," Zarv stated in a loud, firm voice as if he was responding to a challenge. "Don't you agree, H'el?"

For the first time in half an hour, the Council seemed to recall that their Regent sat among them.

H'el's eyes darkened as everyone's gazes settled on him. And for long seconds, he said nothing; just stared at them all with an emotion Jor concluded had to be akin to hatred. But then he smiled, which, for H'el, gave him an even more predatory look.

"I think we should figure out a way to first end the civil war and recapture Zod and his men before we go turning the Council over to the next generation of royals."

H'el's jaw clenched repeatedly, probably the only thing preventing him from strangling the Council who were quite keen on the idea of retiring and handing over the reins of the nation to their protégés.

"Well, of course that will happen," Gul quickly retorted. "It's our mess to fix, and fix it we will. But it's time to look to the future, and young El can be part of that future."

Clark remained silent, neither agreeing or disagreeing. A calculated move, Jor knew, but was again surprised at how well Clark managed people by doing so little. An admirable tactic, all the better for its quiet subtlety.

"And his lovely wife," Lady Uma added. "By the way, when will she join you? We would all love to meet her."

Jor closed his eyes. Up until Milla Uma had asked about Diana, everything had been going so well, Clark handling the lords and ladies with the perfect touch. And while Jor hadn't had an opportunity to learn if Clark's mission to Mr. Wal's suite had been successful or not, the last thing Clark needed right now was to be reminded that his wife wouldn't . . . couldn't join him.

"Diana will arrive next week."

Jor's eyes popped opened.

"Excellent, I look forward to meeting her and learning all about the Justice League." Lady Uma beamed, as did the rest of the Council.

Crash. Crash. Crash.

For the second time that morning, all eyes turned to H'el, his breakfast plate, coffee cup, and saucer in broken bits of expensive China on the floor beside his chair. The man himself, well, he pushed from the table, sending the high-back wooden chair crashing to the floor, too.

Servants scurried into the room as the Regent sailed out on a cloud of anger and confusion.

He wasn't the only one confused.

As the servants bustled about, cleaning up H'el's mess, Jor stood and walked onto the balcony attached to the dining hall. As he'd hoped, a few minutes later, Clark joined him.

"What's this about Diana?"

"Like I said, she'll be here next week."

Clark's smile nearly blinded Jor, so happy was his son.

"How? Did Lara somehow find a cure?" Though he couldn't imagine how that could be the case since several of the herbs needed for the antidote grew only in Krypton.

Some of Clark's light dimmed.

"Not a cure, but Diana's awake and plotting."

"Awake and plotting?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you all about it when we have more privacy."

Jor didn't know whether to be relieved or tense with worry. Diana was conscience but not cured, which meant their original mission was still priority one.

"You're right, this isn't the place. We'll talk later. By the way, you're doing great."

Clark scanned the compound below the balcony. The east garden lay before them. Rose bushes and trees lined in perfect, uniform rows decorated the landscape. They were neat, trimmed, and orderly, not a single fallen leaf on the ground - a scene of Krypton's masterful control instead of nature's untamed magnificence. The difference between an El and a Kent.

Clark's hands reached for the wrought iron balustrade, his eyes cast outward and away from Jor.

"This isn't what I want."

"I know."

"I know you do, but it is what you wish for me."

That was true, but Jor hadn't realized how true it was until he'd returned home. Gul and the Council were right, new, untainted blood was needed on the High Council. "The High Council could do far worse than a royal raised as a commoner and a Grecian beauty who is as charming as she is scary."

That garnered a smile from Clark. "Diana can be quite scary when she's pissed. You have no idea."

No, Jor suspected he didn't, but . . . "I assume H'el will soon find out what it means to anger such a woman."

"No." Cold. Flat. "He'll find out what it means to anger her dragon, if he doesn't hand over the damn antidote soon."

H'el slammed his office door, furious and wanting someone to hit and destroy. He balled his fists and swore at the empty room. How in the name of Rao could this be happening? He planned so carefully, taken every precaution, manipulated everyone just so, maneuvering them precisely where he required them to be.

And Jor and his whelp were finally in Krypton, just as he knew they would be after the kidnapping and poisoning. Yet Diana Kent still lives. How is that possible? Simple. It shouldn't be, not unless Non and his men fucked up. Well, the big idiot will pay, but not until he's dealt with the Els and the woman, once and for all. She'll be here next week, fine. I'll make sure she'll never leave, nor that husband of hers.

H'el snorted, insulted beyond reasoning. How dare the Council think to replace me with some farm boy his own parents discarded and forgot about? Shoving back hair that had fallen into his eyes, H'el fought to reign in his outrage. Despite everything, his plan was still in play and doable. He only needed to contact Non and find out exactly what happened with the Kent woman.

But Jor and Clark would not have come here seeking my help if the wife hadn't been poisoned. No, I could see the desperation in the boy's eyes; hear it in his and Jor's pleas for the antidote. And how good it had felt to thwart the high-and-mighty High Councillor Jor El.

Yes, it had, and H'el intended to thwart the man many times before he finally killed him.

H'el stalked to his desk and dropped into his chair. He needed to think, to wrap his mind around how Diana Kent had managed to elude death. Lara. The name came to him in a flash of understanding. Surely Lady Lara had something to do with Kent's miraculous recovery. She was, in a word, stunning, in both mind and form, yet another reason why Jor El had to die.

A royal raised as a commoner. That was how the Council referred to Kal El . . . Clark Kent, and they'd accepted that subpar amalgam in a way that they'd never accepted him. A commoner elevated to that of a Regent. But he could never be a royal, no matter how long he worked beside them, no matter how many smiles they bestowed upon him, or metals they put upon his chest. To royals like Lord Gul and Lady Uma, when all was said and done, H'el was but a well-paid, well-dressed, and highly useful servant. Nothing more, certainly not a man of great value or of worth, which is why they all will die, all except Lara. Never her.

She would mourn the loss of her husband and son, of course. But, in time, Lara would forget Jor and remember all that she and H'el once shared. All that her father, Lor-Van, denied me because I wasn't of royal birth. Well, I'll show them. I'll show them all.

But first, he had a job for Non and his special team.

TO BE CONTINUED IN THE NEW YEAR

Author's Note:

For all of you who celebrate, I wish you a Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, and a belated Chanukah. May peace and happiness light your New Year. See you in 2014. Thanks for reading.