Quis Salvabit Salvatorems?
Summary: "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" or "Who shall guard the guards?" had always been an interesting question, but I think a more life fulfilling question is: Who shall save the saviors?
Reincarnation. Rebirth. First Person POV.
A/N: A thanks to Chereche who acted as a soundboard for this fic ^_^
Chapter 1: Krypton
I knew I didn't have much longer to live. But that was okay. I had lived a full life. I had grandchildren and even a few great-grandchildren. I was ready. And so, when I went to sleep for what I was certain was the last time, I relaxed. Content.
My awareness slipped into peaceful darkness and all was well. . . .
When my consciousness resurfaced, I was extremely confused. My surroundings made no sense and were nothing like what I had hoped my eternal rest to be. I had woken up in a strange glass enclosure, submerged in a thick fluid that somehow was providing everything I needed, even oxygen.
I looked at my hands and was, for reasons I didn't understand then, amazed. My control of them had me transfixed.
And then everything shifted and I was exposed to air and handled by unfamiliar hands and surrounded by voices speaking a language I didn't understand. I gasped and distantly realized . . . I was a toddler.
Looking at those speaking, they were dressed in tight-fitting, elaborate clothing with bold emblems on the fronts of their chests. Something felt oddly familiar about this strange attire, but I was more concerned about the intensity of their voices. By their tone, expressions, and gestures, I knew they were talking about me. They appeared to be just as confused as I felt about the whole situation.
Only later did I learn that typically people were in the birthing matrix much longer than I was (over five years longer), so I'll just say that that first month had been exceedingly jarring for me, though it was really only a warm up.
My memories of what I now call 'The Before' remained in the back of my mind, and my lack of intelligible speech as a helpless child had felt like both a blessing and a curse – though later I would recognize it as purely a blessing.
My new father was a cruel, sadistic man. Had he known I was not what he had engineered (a mentally superior Kryptonian) he would have terminated me without hesitation.
Yes, I had been biologically engineered. Carefully crafted to be the perfect son. Designed to be his ultimate tool, to ensure Krypton entered a new era of Power, to make the House of Rho the sole ruling entity with him as the head.
From the knowledge I had gained in my previous life, I knew a narcissist when I saw one. Zeta-Rho fit the definition to a T. Thankfully, for the first few years of my life after waking, I had minimal contact with him, enabling me to learn their language and put the pieces together of my new reality in relative safety and overall seclusion.
I was three (roughly a year after I had awoken) when I fully processed where I had been born: into a universe I had once believed to be fiction, but it was only after hearing the name 'Jor-El' that I understood when.
I didn't know how much time Krypton had, but I knew it wasn't long. I also knew I didn't have much hope to escape its fate, but I decided I would do my best with what I had because what else could I do?
I was better off living whatever this life was to the best of my ability. My stubborn conscience demanded it.
So, I worked as hard as I could, pleasing my father beyond even his high expectations – thanks, in part, to my engineering career from The Before.
I pushed aside childish pursuits (that would have only resulted in being punished by my father anyway) and focused on improving myself. I learned everything I could get a hold of, especially things I felt could be useful to me and to Superman if I succeeded in making it to Earth (which I desperately planned to). Some subjects I studied on my own, as subtly as I could, specifically Kryptonian biology and Krypton's history (I didn't want people asking questions). But for other things, I studied openly and diligently, learning Kryptonian science and technology at a speed and ferocity that attracted the eyes and ears of the other Houses.
"Tal-Rho will be the next generation's greatest scientist, an unparalleled intellectual," people said.
"Zeta-Rho must be so proud!"
"We should all aim for our children to be as capable."
"The House of Rho will lead Krypton into a better future!"
My father preened.
And with all of that, I must point out that I had yet to make a friend and kept my interactions with others to a minimum – per my father's demand, though I suspect such relationships wouldn't have helped me anyway.
Thus, my father happily pushed me harder, my young age immaterial.
I didn't resist, and when I felt I could risk it because I knew it was likely my only hope, I asked him to allow me to train under Krypton's Head Scientist, Jor-El, who was also on the High Council. I thought my father would have approved due to the prestige surrounding Jor-El.
He didn't.
It was on that day that I experienced my father's full, unrestrained wrath on my person.
It was only due to Kryptonian technology that I didn't die, and even then it had been close. I believe my near demise had even thrown my father, though perhaps that is just wishful thinking.
When I finally regained consciousness, he stated my lesson in humility was over and that I would do well to remember it.
It took me another week to be able to walk without a noticeable limp, but there was nothing to be done about the angry scar that ran up my thigh to around the side of my torso along my ribs.
From then on, I referred to him as Zeta in my mind instead of father. Even now, I don't understand why it took me so long to do that. He had lost the right to be considered a father long before that day.
Weeks later, I heard Jor-El had been removed from all of his positions for 'spreading misinformation'. Lies about the state of Krypton's core. He had been placed on house arrest, with a trial pending.
It was all I could do to not scream at the High Council's stupidity, even though I wasn't surprised.
I was close to just throwing up my hands and doing something exceedingly reckless, but then, when I was equivalently just shy of nine years old, Zeta took me aside and introduced me to a secret project.
I would be leaving earth within a year for 'an important mission', likely much sooner.
However, as relieving as that was, I was rocked by two additional revelations.
First, I finally learned the identity of my mother.
Lara Lor-Van.
The name rang a bell from The Before and I knew from this life she was Jor-El's wife.
And now I knew I was her son.
Thus, I was Superman's half-brother.
Astonishment filled me up for multiple reasons.
Of course, the relationship was only genetic. Lara Lor-Van had not carried or given birth to me. Again, I was grown in a birthing matrix, utilizing the genetic material needed that had been specifically matched to create the 'ideal' offspring. Lara had left Zeta long before I had been seeded in the birthing matrix. She might not even know I was hers.
Still, knowing I was related to my favorite childhood hero and actually had family outside the evil of Zeta-Rho. . . . I cannot fully express my relief or joy.
Unfortunately, the second revelation overshadowed what I felt about my genetic relations.
Zeta expected me to supplant the people of Earth. That was the mission. Download Kryptonian minds into humans, in essence, possessing and overwriting their being. Their souls. From there, Earth was to be taken over from within.
I hardened myself, recalling every human individual I could remember from my previous life as I immediately set on a course of action.
So I played the part as the months of preparation wore on, convincing Zeta that I was, unequivocally, his loyal son.
It worked better than I had planned. . . .
While learning about the suspected effects of Earth's yellow sun on my person (which I of course already knew, and then some), Zeta told me more of Krypton's situation.
Krypton was dying and the Council knew.
The High Council knew.
They had known for years.
Their teams of scientists had known even before Jor-El had, as unbelievable as that sounds.
And they were working with Zeta, secretly gathering every consciousness they felt worthy of saving while lying to the rest of the population and mobilizing them against Jor-El who was trying to save them.
It reminded me of communist or totalitarian regimes. The average person did as they were instructed. And suddenly, their brain numbing history books made sense. No one questioned, no one hesitated. Everyone was either too scared to speak up or had been completely indoctrinated to the point that they didn't even know how to think for themselves or question anything. They just obeyed and believed.
Nevermind the worsening earthquakes, the new clusters of volcanic activity and the like. 'Everything is fine,' the Council said, again and again.
And like every tyrannical government, despite the genius of the Kryptonian psyche and thousands of years of technology beyond the average human's dreams, the population continued to drink up the words of leadership – in this case, the Council. Day after day, the Council demonized Jor-El, rehashed the 'fallacies' of Jor-El's theory by repeating the 'truth' ad nauseam, causing the masses to mock the House of El, proclaiming that the once grand house had fallen and would now forever be known as the house of stupidity. There was no actual debate, no honest discord or use of the scientific method to get to irrefutable evidence that could then be presented and openly tested. Instead, all that took place was just dressed up name-calling.
I tried not to listen, tired of the, to me, blatant propaganda. And I inwardly cringed as I couldn't help but note how much energy the Council spent on covering up the truth, leaving only a fraction to create their cerebral Noah's Ark – which ironically was more about attempting to continue their elitism than actually saving their race.
But this is authoritarianism. My past life had shown me the harsh truth of that evil, and how it always uses the 'greater good' to trick the masses into obedience, even willful, joyful obedience.
Depressingly, the people of Krypton had been thoroughly tricked.
I saw it every day when I went into the core of the city with Zeta: all the masses living in psychological lockstep.
It was why they used genetic engineering to propagate, why they utilized birthing matrixes to develop perfect citizens-to-be until a certain level of brain activity was detected – when they were deemed 'ready', i.e.: useful. Once that occurred, which was usually just before puberty, they were 'born' and placed where they would be educated in the task they were designed to accomplish.
Everything was proclaimed to be for the common good, for the People. Nevermind the individual who would instantly be sacrificed if there was even the perception that their pain or even demise would profit the collective. Hah! Collectivism. The surest way to a living Hell, no matter what planet you're on.
Witnessing this first hand utterly destroyed the image I once had of Krypton and her people. Even with all my knowledge from The Before (from a range of Superman comics, movies, etcetera), I had never imagined Krypton being in such a thoroughly dire state. Sure, the comics had often alluded to government corruption, and the movies had even touched on the obsession with genetic engineering, but the scope of the degradation . . . no form of media, comic, live action or otherwise, would be able to fully capture it.
In my previous life, I died at 92 years old, and I had seen governments rise and fall, societies crumble and unite – both for good and for evil. I had even personally participated in the civil rights era, supporting MLK Jr. and joining several marches. That had been a turbulent time, and thus, I knew what I was witnessing here. Unfortunately, unlike back then, good wasn't winning and I knew . . . Krypton would not be saved.
Which was why, when the day finally came for my departure, I felt relief more than anything else – and not primarily for the reason you're likely thinking. Soon, I would be away from these sad people who were in a condition far worse than their planet, for their planet was dying through no fault of its own, but they would soon die because they had allowed their individual liberties to slip so far away that true freedom was now beyond their comprehension, even beyond conscious desire. They had doomed themselves.
I suddenly wished I had been born earlier on Krypton, before their society had decayed beyond the point of return. Perhaps then I could have done something. Prevented this tragedy. But I had been born within the last generation and was just a boy. A remarkable one, admittedly, but still just a boy – and one under a powerful sadist. To have turned the People of Krypton around, at least one hundred Jor-El's would have been needed and at least two generations. Tragically, there wasn't enough time and not enough bold, capable souls. It was too late.
I took a slow deep breath as I approached my salvation and where I'd live for the next several months, though I would thankfully be asleep. However, my thoughts were on the destination instead of the coming journey.
Though I was no longer human, my heart was soaring with the knowledge that I was going home – or at least a place that had a much better potential to become home in this life.
If I had been born a kryptonian under better circumstances, I might have viewed things differently, but Krypton was just a place. It was certainly real to me now, obviously, but it had never become a location where I wanted to be. A place I felt happy or even content. Sure, there were instances I had been happy or pleased, like when I figured out how a certain technology worked, but on a personal level, person-to-person, never.
I had no attachment to Krypton. And as depressing as that confession is, it was the truth. I was ready, eager, to leave. After all, I had goals I wanted to reach, and a single hope: help my half-brother when he inevitably made it to Earth. That, I decided, was my purpose in this life.
The Council announced the launch of my vessel that morning as a manless maintenance mission to an observation satellite, disguising it as nothing more than routine. I did wonder how the populous would have responded had they known the truth, but maybe at this point ignorance truly was bliss.
Zeta opened the small spaceship, placing his sun crystal and my mother's in the console against the far exterior wall.
I didn't ask how he had attained my mother's crystal, but I knew it hadn't been for my sake.
"Remember, find a large, secluded place and activate my sun crystal. It will form the sanctum where we will begin anew," Zeta said. "And remember, the Eradicator should arrive soon after you do."
The Eradicator was the device that would override human minds with those of Kryptonians. It could not be transported with me because there was a risk that the vessel's power source would corrupt the Kryptonian consciousnesses within. Zeta and his group of scientists had not had time to place the proper shielding, and I mentally smirked with the suspicion that Jor-El probably would have been able to do it with time to spare.
"Yes, father," I said obediently as I braced to be connected to the craft.
I gasped when the back of my neck was pierced by the life support system and I ignored Zeta's sadistic smile as I breathed through the pain.
He slammed the door without a word and life-sustaining fluid filled the craft. It went dark and I lost awareness.
O
A/N: So this is a bit different from my usual writing, but I wanted to give it a try. I hope to post once a week. Please let me know what you think ^_^