The Forgotten One

by Paper moth

As a general rule homicidal Super-human maniacs should not be cryogenically frozen for future posterity. Sooner or later someone with too much time on their hands might go ahead and do the unthinkable. In Kaluwa's defense the cryo-pod was inadequately labelled- for one thing the 'contains probable genocide' sticker was missing.

AN: All credit to the creators. I own nothing.

The Forgotten One

Prologue

Bibi Nyota,

It was once again, and always, a delight to see you dear bibi. The trip was all too brief. I thank you a thousand solemn moons for the poetry and lessons in Old Vulcan. I would be lying if I said I have since mastered the hard "Hsh" sound but I do try. Although I have all but given up looking, sometimes I wonder where the Vulcan in me resides. It does not help I have received comments lately on the strangeness of my temperament for someone with obvious Vulcan ancestry (what they mean to say bibi is obvious Vulcan eyebrows). Of course I am still stoic by modest human standards but there has been a shift. I suppose my 'tedious' and 'frivolous' travels, as dubbed ironically by father the wanderlust King extraordinaire, are to blame. Everywhere the light touches there is hurt, anger, love, joy. All I have witnessed has convinced me there is something to be gained from catharsis.

Catharsis. It is my 'current word'. Do you recall the game? I still play it, I can still hear you say "pick a word, any word Kaluwa, in any language and hold it in your mouth for a while". Do you remember the questions? How I pretended to not understand your use of metaphor?

"Bibi Nyota how does one hold the intangible? That is simply illogical," I would reply looking eagerly to babu Spock, waiting for his approval.

I was always so keen to please then; all I wanted was to show everyone I could be enough. Vulcan enough, human enough, woman enough. I know now I excel at chasing ideals. I am an odd sort of contortionist trying desperately to squeeze herself into boxes that do not exist.

Now I have a better appreciation for expression and creativity, and as you will come to know, chaos. Maybe it is the loss of reason that has been my downfall. Was it wrong to bother with new ways of seeing things?

Perhaps.

I am rambling. I am sure you can tell from this pseudo-existential crisis I am forcing you to endure so soon after my stay. But bibi I find myself in a desperate situation. The truth is I have not been entirely forthright about my recent experiment, and before some rather catastrophic news reaches you, I think I should explain myself.

I have agonized over where to start but I suppose a good a place as any is the beginning. And a beginning of sorts is the day the central cities of the African republic were bombed. Although I was of Terran, it is on this day, whilst I was listening intently to the broadcasts, occupant G786YS awoke.

G786YS.

The one you call Khan.

As I said bibi I have a lot to explain.

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AN:

The Google says bibi is Swahili for grandmother and babu for grandfather.

I simply do not know what I am doing with my life. What is this even?