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hrakkas bounded out of their pen before Bur-Al knew what was happening. The black lizards fell upon the hapless man, snapping and tearing. They gutted the young administrator, and blood sprayed in the air. A fanfare of resounding exit music played outside in the stadium, drowning out his screams. The last of the departing audience members cheered and laughed. Apparently the clowns were running along the track again, raking the gravel.
    Bur-Al lay twitching in the sand and dust, and the three hrakkas continued their meal in the dim stable.
    Zod said in a deadpan voice, “By the red heart of Rao, this is terrible. I simply don’t know how they could have broken loose.”
    Nam-Ek could not tear his soulful eyes from the feeding frenzy. Zod could see the mute’s misery, and his heart went out to the big man. “It’ll be all right, Nam-Ek. I won’t let them do anything to you.”
    Because murder was exceedingly rare on Krypton, no one would suspect anything sinister. The deadly animals had simply gotten loose. An accident. Hrakkas were predators, after all, and had shown their penchant for violence during the running of the races. They were a hazard.
    Nam-Ek pointed a blunt finger toward the three lizards, and Zod realized that his silent friend was distraught that the animals would now have to be destroyed. “I am sorry, Nam-Ek. There’s nothing I can do about it.” He racked his brain, unable to think of another way. “I’ll get you new pets. I promise.”
    Clearly resigned, Nam-Ek nodded, and Zod felt a slight pang of guilt. It had seemed like the perfect way to get rid of Bur-Al, but perhaps he should have been more careful, should have thought of a subtler method that would not have jeopardized Nam-Ek’s beloved hrakkas. “I promise I will make it better.”
    Once he was sure that his silent and muscular friend was all right, Zod calmly went out to sound the alarm.

CHAPTER 5
    Even in Zor-El’s beloved Argo City, most Kryptonians were too comfortable, their ambitions were too few, and they noticed too little of the world around them. They had forgotten the heady taste of danger. Zor-El, on the other hand, found it exhilarating to place himself in hazardous situations—at least when it was scientifically necessary.
    According to his seismic sensor network, a tremendous volcanic eruption had occurred eight days earlier, and even now the aftermath contained enough hellish fury to incinerate him if he made a single misstep. The dark-eyed, ruddy-faced scientist stood alone among the brimstone and chaos of the wild southern continent—no safety nets, no guards, only his own wits and reactions. Many Kryptonians would have thought him mad to take such a risk.
    Sulfurous smoke and fumes boiled into the air, and bubbling pools simmered around him. Zor-El let the hot breezes blow his black hair into a ragged mane around his face. His reddened eyes stung, and smoke and grit stained his cheeks.
    He was enjoying himself immensely.
    The ground shook again, and a geyser of scarlet lava shot up and arced back down like the mating plumage of a flamebird. After the massive seismic event, the fury that burbled beneath the planet’s crust would take a long while to die down—if it died down at all. Zor-El wasn’t convinced it ever would.
    Over the years, suspecting that Krypton was by no means tame and peaceful, geologically speaking, he had deployed a network of sensor stations at hot spots across the landscape. And Zor-El had grown more and more disturbed by the readings….
    Since he also served as the leader of Argo City, political duties demanded much of his time, but Zor-El never failed to monitor his geological stations. Argo City was a thriving metropolis on a narrow tropical peninsula off the main continent’s southeastern coast. When the unprecedented volcanic eruption had occurred across the ocean on the distant southern continent, he had learned about it immediately. Judging by the readings, the explosion must have