Author's Note: So, a little bit about how I named my Augments, because I think if I don't at least try to explain I might actually confuse some of my readers, and I don't want that.
In my little take on the Eugenics War, there are a total of twenty scientists involved in the creation of the eugenics species. The Augments created by these doctors are classified as Augments and distinguished from one another at the same time by carrying the name of the head Doctor of their compound as their surname. Therefore, Jakarel is one of fifty Janssens, Khan is one of two hundred Singhs, and Jakobi is one of the five hundred men named Matthews. For distinction among their peers, certain Augments were given a second name, typically the name of the head Doctor that also gave them their surname. Therefore, Noonien Singh named his favourite as Khan Noonien Singh. This is different for those Augments with creators of a different sex, as with Jakarel, who was given the second name Zenzi instead of Johan. The names given in this regard are taken from the scientist's imagination or from somebody close to them.
So, that's my little thing regarding the names. Particular, isn't it? Of course, most Augments no longer keep the names the humans that created them gave them. The few that did have their reasons and those reasons aren't really that important right now, if ever.
Chapter Seven: Hope not.
Jakarel had managed to free herself from her cryotube and pull herself to standing from where she had collapsed to the ground. She couldn't hold back the heaving that followed the dizziness as she stood. A momentary show of weakness was embodied in her clasping her hand against the rim of the open cryotube. She was so glad the others weren't awake to see this.
When she was certain she wouldn't collapse, Jakarel stumbled across to the adjacent cryotube in her row, faltering in those last steps and grunting as she unintentionally rammed into the cold machine. Peering in, she felt something alike to disappointment at the sight of the face inside.
It was Hiltraude, one of her sisters.
Open it.
Jakarel input the password that would release Hiltraude from her icy prison, hearing the gratifying hiss of success and smiling thinly. She listened keenly for the sounds of voices approaching, or for alarms ringing. The room was quiet, though, save for her breathing and the hissing of the cryotubes contained within it. There was something to be glad for in the lack of interest shown to the cryotubes. If Jakarel knew any better, she might have realised just how long the Augments had been imprisoned by whomever was keeping them wherever they were.
Hiltraude was breathing evenly when Jakarel moved on and released the next handful of Augments from their icy tubes, allowing her closest friends, her beloved family, free again at last.
Jakobi, her favourite brother, was the last to be released when Jakarel heard that telltale sound of approaching footsteps hurrying to the holding area the cryotubes were being held in. She turned to glance at the door, burgundy eyes glaring at the approaching intrusion, and darted for it before it slid open and admitted the security force that would undoubtly have come to apprehend her.
Hiltraude, Olsen, Corrine, and Aislin were aware of the noises as well and looked to her for direction on how to respond. The realisation that she had become their leader while Khan slumbered in whatever cryotube he was kept in was received and understood quickly and without question. Silently, she pointed and gave her brothers and sisters their directions. They fanned out in response, Aislin remaining nearby to tend to Jakobi and keep him quiet, while Jakarel ran for the entrance.
Rows and rows of frozen faces that appeared dead lined the slim walkway Jakarel followed to get to the door. By the muffled sounds of approaching people, she could tell that they were almost at the door now and she kicked in another burst of speed.
As the door opened, Jakarel lunged forward and seized the first man she saw by the collar of his shirt before throwing him into the room behind her, displaying the might of the Augments with that one action. One of the others dispatched the man with their bare hands, punching and beating the human into submission before ending his miserable life. Meanwhile, Jakarel had moved on to the other man, grabbing him by his shoulders and throwing him against the wall before bringing her knee up into his groin, effectively crippling the man. He raised his gun to fire even while he shouted out with the pain and she seized his wrist and squeezed it in her hand. She felt his frail bones crack and splinter under her tight grasp and the additional gasp of pain he released was as gratifying as the sound of climax.
She smiled a feral grin and dragged the human back into the storage room. His gun dropped to the ground to be picked up by Hiltraude, who followed Jakarel and her stumbling prisoner. The man cried out with every step, irritating Jakarel, and she glared at him before realising the dark patch spreading across his pants.
She had hurt him harder than she thought.
Had humans really gotten so weak while they were sleeping?
She had noticed the man was human, after all. There was no mistaking that pathetic human instinct to flee or fight glimmer in his eyes before she snapped the bones in his wrist as easily as a child would snap a thin twig. He did not accompany her willingly, even now, and she suspected he was pretending to be so heavily crippled rather than that he was actually that crippled. Perhaps, though, she overestimated the strength of a human male when his groin had been, most literally, crushed.
She shoved him against one of the closed cryotubes, leaving behind a smear of claret when he slumped to the ground with another drawn out groan. Jakarel had to hold back from drawing her hand across his face and possibly breaking his jaw. Silence him though it would, it would also make him completely useless.
"Where are we?" She demanded of the human. He was in too much pain to reply, instead just sitting there and making a strange noise she realised eventually was him weeping. Disgust resonated in her heart at the sight. She kicked his leg and he jolted as though her foot had driven a long spike into his flesh. Looking down at him when he looked up at her, the sight of tears streaking his face was morally wrong to her. She wanted to shake him and tell him that he could be better than that, but she withstood the desire to treat him as something more than a snivelling pup. The memory of their betrayal so many years ago was still fresh in her mind, as though it had happened only earlier that day.
Nolanda was visible on the horizon when the Augments stopped for the night in the sleaziest of Indian motels. The owner had been pacified by threats and kept to himself, mostly, while the hundred Augments made his establishment theirs. Compared to the cities they had left behind when they split again a day east of Mumbai, the motel and the town it lay within was quiet. The presence of the humans wasn't so oppressive.
Tempers were high among their group at the difficulty of moving across such a heavily populated country with so few numbers. There were murmurs of dissent in the quiet evenings as men and women alike complained about the living conditions, the presence of so many humans, and just how many of their own they had lost in this endeavor to bring peace to the war stricken world.
Like so many other things Jakarel understood, she agreed with her disillusioned brothers and sisters. If she had known how much they would have had to sacrifice just to get this far, she might have told Khan to keep the group together as long as possible to save them so many losses.
The only part of their life she truly wished she could go without was the presence of the damnable insects that stung her during every waking moment and that buzzed too loudly beyond the walls of the rooms the Augments kept. Her irritation only served to amuse Khan. His irritation with the same insects amused her. It was another one of their little games to bide their time. One could look at them and see a frustrated couple swatting at the air and not notice anything playful about it, but one of the more observant people could see them peering out of the corner of their eyes at eachother and the way secretive smirks flitted across their faces once they had looked away from eachother.
Others were playing similar games as the Augments organised themselves. Perhaps the tension and the thought of the hard fighting ahead was making them fall into those nervous habits the other species had developed to deal with stress was being embodied by the games they played amongst themselves. Arrogance dictated that they were above stress.
Stress was gnawing at them nonetheless.
Their stay in that motel was quiet, punctuated only by the sounds of pain and violence and pleasure as Jakarel's family excersized their needs in whatever ways they pleased. She stayed with Khan, as loyal as any in her position could be, and found her amusement in the dead hours of the night by playing far more lecherous games with the man humans would call her lover.
The day came early at this time of the year with the bright sound of birdsong. They rose early, as always, and paid the owner of the motel for keeping them and not trying to kill them. Their rewards were generous. Loyalists to their cause were always well received and they truly believed the man to be a loyalist.
The bomb proved otherwise.
Everybody was loading into their vehicles when the first to be ready started the engine. Jakarel remembered clearly the men and women crammed into the small Indian vehicle. Her friends. She remembered their smouldering corpses after the explosion and the way the survivors had suffered, unable to heal fast enough to recover wholly from the nerve damage. That was the only time she had watched her siblings die without just cause on the ground in the wreckage.
After that, they had returned to walking and the taking of vehicles being driven on the roads. The Indian was punished for misleading them, the reward returned to their hands, and the motel burned. There was a saying that was most apt when it came to the wrath of the Augments, but Jakarel only remembered a small amount.
Hell hath no fury.
She kicked the man again when he seemed liable to sink into shock. Blood was pooling around him rapidly, a sign that his heart was beating at an accelerated pace. She suspected they didn't have much time with him before he faded out on them.
She resolved to make the interrogation fast.
"I asked you a question," she snarled at the human. "Where are we?"
The man grunted his answer between the groans of pain. She was pleased. At least something was getting through the agony.
"Starfleet headquarters, San Francisco," he had said. She didn't understand what a Starfleet was, but she knew of San Francisco. This was where the last stand for the American Augments had been all those years ago. Hallowed ground, now, as her people that had come here had died, every last one of them, and become martyred for their cause, labelled by the humans they had sought to bring peace to as war criminals. America had been the first country to be reclaimed by the humans after the War had been settled. Jakarel remembered vividly that day.
"Why are we here?" She demanded, keeping her voice sharp and piercing. She had to do something to get through the roar of pain in his head. "Why aren't we on the Botany?"
He didn't have an answer and so she kicked him again. His reply came quicker when she repeated the question, a scream of "I don't know" and an "Oh god, somebody help me!"
She slapped him that time, and then she broke his neck.