“And I. Need. Data,” Jor-Il stated, emphasizing each word as he leaned in closer, his remaining eye glinting sharply. “Otherwise, all I have for you are guesses and estimates… and those you could have come to on your own.” He leaned back. “But you didn’t, son. You came to ME.”

            Clark fell silent, his mind awash with confusion. After a time, with a huff, the Tyrant of Steel folded his arms across his broad chest. “Quid Pro Quo,” Clark retorted. “A favor for a favor. I share with you, you share with me.” He smiled tightly. “But YOU share first, ‘father,’” Clark snarled, sneering as he said ‘father.’

            Jor-Il nodded without hesitation, almost eagerly. “Agreed.”

            Clark sat back, pointing at Jor-Il’s ravaged face. “The deep-core event.”

            A wry smile lifted the unscarred corner of Jor-Il’s lips.

            “The groundquakes started a few years ago,” Jor-Il explained. “At first, they were frequent, yet weak in intensity… virtually unnoticeable.” He waved a hand dismissively. “People paid them no mind. They were explained away by the Science Council as simple ‘shifts in the planet’s crust.’ As the frequency of the quakes began to slowly decline, however, their intensity increased. Once I detected this pattern and began my calculations, the data was incontrovertible. The intensity of the quake increased in precise geometric proportion to the length of time between them. I, of course, immediately brought my findings to the Council.” He snorted derisively. “The Science Council rejected my findings, calling me ‘insane.’”

            “And what were your findings?” Clark asked.

            “That Krypton is doomed,” Jor-Il replied succinctly. “That, eventually, the intensity of the groundquake would reach the point where they would tear Krypton apart… crack it right down to its core.” He shrugged. “Krypton would NOT survive the simultaneous release of the entirety of the core’s energy.”

            Holding his hands before him, the scientist mimicked an explosion.

Jor-Il snorted. “I take solace in the knowledge that those fools will die with this planet.”

“And the source of these quakes?”

Jor-Il sat back, his face hardening in suppressed anger. “All societies go through periods of ‘religious fervor,’ and Krypton is no different,” he explained. “Millennia ago, a group of fanatics calling themselves ‘Black Zero’ detonated a doomsday device near the core of Krypton in an effort to demonstrate the ‘dangers of science.’” He snorted derisively, shaking his head. “In true hypocritical fashion, they USED science to attempt to prove science’s danger to society.” He shrugged. “It failed—obviously—but the energy from the bomb started a slow chain-reaction within the core, causing several of the native elements present to begin to fuse together into a new radioactive element.”

“Anti-Kryptonite,” Clark reasoned.

Jor-Il nodded. “As millennia passed, the unique background radiation from the anti-kryptonite caused the deaths of an increasing number of people world-wide. The Religious Council—and subsequent Science Council, in later years, when society shifted back to logical thinking—suppressed the truth of the deaths from society, explaining it away with veiled half-truths and misdirection, but some people suspected the truth.”

“And what happened to them?” Clark asked.

Jor-Il smiled mirthlessly. “What do you THINK happened to them, son?”

Clark nodded. “They vanished--”

“—never to be heard from again,” Jor-Il finished.

Clark canted his head to one side, motioning to the scientist. “But now YOU’VE discovered it…?” His words tapered off, the implication evident.

Jor-Il barked a harsh laugh. “Unlike the average citizen, they CAN’T simply ‘vanish’ me, son.” He smiled darkly. “I have far too many contingencies in place.”

“And the groundquakes?”

“Are the natural conclusion of the planet’s core reaching critical mass,” Jor-Il confirmed. “It seems as though our Krypton and the positive-matter universe Krypton will now share a distinctive similarity, albeit a substantial amount of time apart.”

Clark scowled. “But you could leave,” he reasoned. “The Phantom Zone…?”

The scientist’s harsh laughter cut off Ultraman’s words. “I have no desire to exist as a disembodied specter, son.” As the laughter subsided, Jor-Il’s eyes grew haunted. “My wife—Lara—died in the last quake. I have no desire to avoid this fate, if facing it means that we are reunited once more.”

            Though he—surprisingly—seethed inwardly at Jor-Il’s refusal to save himself, Clark nodded, understanding the reasoning. If it had been Superwoman, taken from him? He’d stormed the very gates of Olympus to rescue her, when she’d been abducted by Ares. Gone to war with the entire Olympian Pantheon, and that was when he knew she was still alive.

If she’d died?

Clark’s brain shied away from the thought.

“How long?” Ultraman asked, his voice hoarse.

            Jor-Il didn’t hesitate. “According to my findings, the next quake will hit in no more than an hour. The force of it will crack the planet’s crust, releasing the core’s entire energy in one burst. The planet will not survive.” Leaning in towards the screen, Jor-Il’s face grew morose. He sighed. “I am an old man, one who is coming up to the end of his life. I know that you are not my true son. I know that he died in that accident, years ago. Is it so much to ask to just pretend for a little while that you are he, my son? Is it so much to ask that we just simply talk for a short while? Tell me how you are doing. Tell me how your life has been. Tell me about what you have accomplished in your life so far. Allow me the illusion—for just a while—of being a father who is proud of what his son has accomplished.” The elder man glanced away, the unscarred half of his face awash with emotional pain. Finally, after a few moments, Jor-Il met Clark’s gaze once more.

            “Let me do something that I should have been doing all along,” the scientist asked, his voice tight with sorrow. “Let me HELP you. Send me the data. Let me give you the answers you seek.”

Reluctantly, Clark reached over, pressing a button on the console.