The first moment that Khan stared into Carol's weary eyes, he felt nothing but absolute, utter, and complete hatred. If only looks could kill, she would be dying right there and then…violently and ruthlessly. She was a Marcus…the Admiral's blood ran through her veins…that made her Khan's enemy. He despised her, every inch of her, the sight of her beautiful golden hair and soft lips suddenly poison that sent the superhuman into shivers.
The next moment, he felt dirty, filthy, and tarnished. He had allowed himself to fall for this creature…this Marcus. He became uncomfortably aware of the cum that was spread across his chest. The humiliation of having allowed a Marcus to send him into orgasms and fluttering desires made his cheeks flush a deep maroon.
Yet the next moment, his wrath transformed into desperation, a roller coaster ride of hope and need. He could not forget that Carol wanted to help him and there were likely only minutes left before the Admiral would reach the torpedoes. Khan hated having to rely on others but he could not deny that, in this moment, he needed her. Desperately. He took a deep breath to stabilize himself before he spoke.
"There is no time to waste. You must let me out of here now." His voice was curt and hard, an angry undertone burning his words, leaving no room for argument.
But Carol was still blinking in a very dazed way. "Wha…what happened?"
Khan made a noise somewhere between a groan and a roar before spitting out in an exasperated hurry, "Let's play this out logically then, shall we? Admiral Marcus has boarded the Enterprise." Khan's eyes glinted when he saw Carol's face blanch at his words. "He knocked you unconscious in order to have an undisturbed conversation with me in which he informed me that he will enlist two or three crew members under threat to help him carry all 72 torpedoes here where he will destroy them one by one in front of me and, when he is done with that, he will obliterate the Enterprise and everyone on it. He is currently in the process of fulfilling these plans. Now perhaps you will understand the severity of the situation and let me out without further question."
Carol stood up and, though she thought she would be shaky, she found her legs strong and supportive underneath her. But as she moved towards the corridor, one of her slippers crunched on something hard and sharp, and with a cry of pain she bent down to see what it was. She gave a gasp of fright and stumbled backwards when she was greeted by her name tag. Her hand reached up to her breast bone and she felt the damaged fabric where the tag had been forced off. And then she became acutely aware of the blue eyes boring into the back of her head.
She turned and looked at Khan and, for a second, she felt so small and ugly and sick that it seemed as if her entire being was dissipating, becoming one with the smoke filling the air. Khan's eyes were fierce, ferocious, other-wordly, seeped in anger and hurt and wrath and sadness and so, so much unbridled outrage. And that look was all Carol needed to understand: Khan had finally learned her true identity. But he remained silent and still and, when he opened his mouth, his voice was controlled. "Let me out now."
Carol moved towards Khan, reaching her hand out to gently touch the glass. Her knees quivered but she did not falter when Khan turned his vulture-like eyes on her hand and examined each of her fingers as if deciphering the best way to rip bone apart. She held her ground and moved her fingers in soothing motions, gentle and loving, before saying in an unwavering voice, "I am not my father. Believe me when I say that I care about you."
And then she was sprinting through the smoke-filled darkness towards the bridge.
Thoughts were racing through her mind at lightning speed. Khan knew she was a Marcus. Not a Marcus in spirit - never in spirit - but she could not cleanse her DNA. She was the daughter of the man who had ruined Khan's life. She knew that she should be terrified. What would Khan do to her now? Was he talking to her still because she was his only source of hope, the only way to get to his crew? What would happen when she had served her purpose? Would he ignore her? Hurt her? Would he still desire her? He had wanted her, she knew that, she could feel it in the way his lips had ravished the glass when they had kissed. But would he still want her now? Goosebumps formed on Carol's arms as she thought of the superhuman's murderous streak, of the lives (the innocent lives) that he had ended in his hurt and his rage. Perhaps he would kill Carol too? But why? To make her father suffer? To make her suffer for her father's sins? Or simply because she was a Marcus and that name was a parasite to everything the superhuman held dear? Yet, as these thoughts coursed through Carol's mind, she found that she was not scared. No, anything but scared…she was exhilarated. The goosebumps had not sprung from fear but rather from anticipation. And with this realization, she laughed. A full-hearted, bubbly, crazed laugh. Running through the smoke, inhaling the burning substance, feeling fire ignite her throat and trail downwards into her stomach.
Then she was approaching the bridge and she was so close to her goal. She could sense that the atmosphere in the room was tense as she arrived. The entire bridge, much like the rest of the ship, was immersed in darkness…save for a faint blinking of colour. Five crew members were gathered around a dim digital diagram of the Enterprise, staring at the area of the ship which had received massive damage during the attack. The digital diagram flickered on and off, the signal weak, but Carol could still make it out. A gaping hole had been blown into the side of the hull and, when Carol squinted at the diagram, she could see that a small escape pod had entered the ship through the hole. So that was how Marcus had boarded. Another five crew members were deep in conversation, trying to figure out who had boarded and where in the ship they were now. Voices filled with static often penetrated the conversation, indicating that the bridge was in contact with other areas of the ship where people were likely searching for the intruder.
When Carol looked through the panoramic window of the bridge, her eyes widened. The Enterprise was a large ship, but the Vengeance towered over her like she was nothing more than a pebble next to a mountain. Two crew members were furiously tapping buttons and levers. There were frantic voices and Carol could hear bits and pieces of conversation among the disarray. "We only have enough power for life support systems and basic operations." "We've been attacked by one of our own ships. Repeat, we have been attacked by a member of our own fleet, the USS Vengeance." "There is an intruder on board, location unknown." "The commander of the Vengeance is Admiral Alexander Marcus." "The ship must have been commandeered. Marcus would not attack us, surely."
"Permission to come on the bridge," Carol uttered between jagged breaths, still recovering from her mad run.
When permission was granted, all ten crew members paused what they were doing to look at Carol. Her throat went dry. She hadn't even considered how she would release a mass murderer from holding without protest from the other members of the ship. She knew that talking to them was not an option. She wanted to tell them that the intruder was indeed Admiral Marcus and that he planned on destroying the ship. She wanted to admit that she was a Marcus, not a Wallace, and that she had changed her identity because her father was a monster to be feared. She wanted to say that the 72 torpedoes onboard contained living, breathing people in them, that Marcus planned to murder them, and that he must be stopped. She wanted to yell that the people in the torpedoes were Khan's crew and that Khan had been a victim, a puppet who Admiral Marcus had cruelly and selfishly played. She wanted to say all of this, but she kept the words inside her chest because she realized that there were not many people who would empathize with Khan's plight the way she did; and, therefore, Khan would need privacy to save his crew. He wouldn't want an angry mass of people getting in the way. No, she would have to be discreet.
Her eyes raced over the control panel until she spotted the blue button that Khan had directed her to press. It was right in the middle of the control panel, where everyone would be able to clearly and easily see what she was doing. The ten faces were still turned to her, waiting to see why she had come to the bridge in such a frantic state.
She opened her mouth to speak, unsure of what would come out. "Um…I have made a very important discovery. Um…yes, it's very important and so I need to tell you…it's about weapons, naturally…I'm here because I'm a weapons specialist after all…haha…uh," and as she uttered these words, she moved closer to the control panel, trying to hide her discomfort and build everyone's trust by making steady eye contact with each of them. But she found herself at a loss for words and as the ten faces watched her expectantly, her cheeks flushed.
She was relieved when frantic footsteps approached the bridge and the ten faces that had been turned to her now turned to the new presence. Carol moved slowly ever-closer to the control panel. The new presence was a young crew member, face taut in shock and terror. After taking a few shallow breaths, he cried out in a voice filled with horror, "Admiral Marcus is the intruder…he...he is the one who attacked us and…he came into the engine room and…and…he was yelling about the torpedoes and then…and then…he started shooting…oh God…he's killed two of our crew members," and the poor young man was in tears. Carol's heart ached violently at his words. Then there was cacophony on the bridge, voices yelling, bodies moving, arms flailing, buttons being pressed and commands being sent throughout the ship: "Admiral Marcus is our intruder. He is in the engine room and he is armed. Capture him. The holding cell is currently occupied by John Harrison so when you catch Marcus, cuff him and bring him to the bridge."
In the confusion of bodies and voices, Carol pushed aside her grief and made her move. Her hand was hard on the blue button before anyone could see what she was doing. Then she was hurrying back down the smoke-filled corridor. Running fast. She had never been so exhausted, had never physically pushed herself beyond the point of breaking until this moment. Her lungs were burning, her vision was fading, her muscles were screaming in agony, but she had never felt so alive. She urged herself to run harder, until the images rushing past her were nothing more than blurred lines and the colours blue and red. Blue eyes and red fire. She ran on.
When she reached Khan's chamber, the glass was open and he was gone.