Khan didn't actually tell anyone he was going back to the cutter; he simply grabbed his coat and headed out on his own. It was early morning, and while there was not as much activity as there had been the night before, there was still a lot going on. A strange mix of aromas, cooking food and ocean breezes, attacked his senses. He would have preferred the clean ocean air and not this strange mix of food, fuel and no telling what else, but no one had asked him, all the pity.
As he walked back the way he had come, passing the two businesses his knife had closed, he glimpsed the ocean between the buildings. He knew it was an alien sea at its worst, but it reminded him of one he had visited a long time ago, a pleasant thought that came rarely these days.
Letting his defenses down for an instant he noticed too late the man intent upon him, and even though none were faster than he at reflexive gut reactions, this man was already ready. "Move one hair towards your weapons, and I will kill you where you stand, commander," the man stated with a finality, his use of the word commander telling Khan a lot. How many people knew he had once been Cdr. John Harrison? "Hands on head," the man said grimly, "and anything fancy…I will shoot. On your knees."
Khan stared at the man and tried to remember his face. Telling him to get on his knees was one sure way to control him, which meant this fellow had to know something about managing prisoners. Deciding that if this was to be his last day breathing, it wouldn't really matter one way or another if he knew the man's name, ergo he kept quiet. At least the man in the tattered civilian clothes knew enough about him to not get too close. But Khan's silence and lack of fear only infuriated him.
"Don't you want to know who's going to stop you once and for all?" the man demanded angrily. He was almost beside himself with emotion.
Not really, but if it prolonged the inevitable only a second, so be it. Besides the man was bound to slip up, the longer he waited to take out his target. Keeping his voice deadly calm, Khan replied, "Very well, who are you?"
Kirk told the others to wait in the casino, while he went looking for Khan. Joachim wanted to come along, but Kirk insisted that if they all wandered off, they might lose their contact. Joachim reluctantly agreed if Spock would try his hand at poker. He was certain the cagey Vulcan was a latent card shark. So with no reason to expect any trouble, Kirk went off in search of Khan. Passing both slave merchants, he was a wee bit concerned that Khan had painted the doors of their offices with blood. He had not realized that Khan had this talent for the dramatic.
Passing one outdoor proprietor of questionable food, Kirk stopped suddenly. Someone had recognized Khan and had him on his knees with his hands on his head. Was the man an idiot? Didn't he know Khan was as under control as a cobra on the loose? Khan for his part was not doing anything to agitate the situation. Drawing his own weapon, Kirk carefully approached the two men.
"Hey buddy, drop it!" he shouted. The man jerked his head around in surprise, his face reflecting it. Khan moved. "Don't kill him!" Kirk shouted and ran forward to prevent the inevitable. "Don't kill him!"
Khan was more than capable of doing incredible damage without killing. His would be executioner was on the receiving end of a body slam that knocked the breath out of him and probably cracked a couple of ribs. Khan snatched up his weapon and stood over him with a look of pure contempt on his face. "If you are going to kill someone, you get on with it. Talk is for fools," Khan chastised him.
"Maybe that's not good advice," Kirk countered as he put up his own weapon. "What happened here?"
"Lt. Dante, Capt. Kirk, Capt. Kirk Lt. Dante," Khan responded drolly. "His brother was head librarian at the Kelvin Library for the criminally insane."
"Huh?" Kirk answered. Gazing down at the writhing man who was still in a lot of pain, he asked, "Who are you?"
"Oh for Christ's sake, I didn't hurt you that bad," Khan retorted contemptuously and pulled Dante to his feet. Dante whimpered as he found himself on his feet with sharp pain shooting through his back. "Answer the captain."
Dante hunched over, looked at Kirk and said, "Lt. Felix Dante. My brother was a technician at Section 31. This bastard killed him."
"Yes, very tragic," Khan snorted and extended his own weapon. "Can I shoot him now, Captain?"
Kirk wasn't sure if Khan was joking, or if Khan even knew how to joke. "No, you can't shoot him."
"Lucky you," Khan growled and holstered his piece. "I'm going to check on Frederick," he said and continued on his way, leaving Kirk to deal with the would be hero.
By the time Kirk reached the cutter, Khan was sitting in the galley in a white T shirt working on something in his hands. "Where's Frederick?" Kirk asked curiously.
"I sent him out to get himself some fresh air and food," Khan answered without looking up.
"Well, I don't think we'll have anymore problems with Mr. Dante," Kirk said and checked to see if the coffee was hot. Pouring himself a cup, he glanced back covertly and asked, "Are you all right?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Khan asked as he removed one small delicate screw and set it on the galley table.
"You let a rookie get the jump on you," Kirk answered and leaned against the counter to nurse his cup.
"Must be human then," Khan replied indifferently. "Is this really what you want to discuss, captain?"
"I don't want you to get suicidal," Kirk retorted. "Gandia said you would be either better or worse. I can't decide the turn you're taking."
Khan hated prying, hated it almost as much as he hated remembering the past. Looking up, hoping his face conveyed his meaning, he said, "Captain, I am not a touchy feely person. If I need your assistance, I know how to ask."
Kirk had never heard that phrase before but he was pretty sure he understood it. "You know not everyone is out to get you," he countered.
"Really?" Khan mocked him. "Who would that be?"
"Can we call a truce on this bull shit?" Kirk retorted with a rise of anger in his voice. "Everyone knows you are a bad ass. Granted you are a bad ass, but can we just not have the theatrics all the time?"
Khan stared at him in amazement. "You think this is theatrical?"
"Yeah, a little," Kirk answered and took a sip of coffee, the cold dragon stare actually worrying him. Whenever Khan looked that way something bad happened.
Khan stood up, the cold dragon eyes going with him. "Capt. Kirk, do you know why Earth still exists?"
OK trick question. "Why?"
"Because I disarmed the Pakistani nuclear missiles that were pointed at India. Then I, as a favor to an ally, disarmed the Iranian nuclear missiles. No one risked his life to do that but me. And why? Because they had to be dealt with before I could make my move."
OK history told first person.
"I woke up this morning hearing my tanks," Khan confessed with growing emotion. "My tanks were modified Abrams, the best until the creation of the T-95s. I painted them black, the six that were my personal machines. I did it because I wanted them to know it was me."
"Black tanks would certainly stand out," Kirk agreed. He knew enough military history to know that tanks were once the weapon of choice in desert warfare.
Khan paused in memory. He could still see the dirt flying and hear the sounds of war. "Have you ever heard of the Battle of Taxila?"
"A foot note in history," Kirk said.
"It was my history," Khan told him passionately. "Do you understand now?"
"You feel lost?" Kirk asked, hoping he didn't sound to flippant. Khan stared at him, those damn dragon eyes that had faded for a moment returning. "I meant no disrespect."
"I won it," Khan said. "We crushed them. And without their nuclear weapons, they quickly capitulated. Taxila became my capital for the next ten years."
"When did it turn sour?"
Khan did not want to think about that. "Soon enough," he answered and absently rubbed the left side of his chest. Memory of that night was painful under the light of day. They had won, but look at him now. A self-made prince was back to being just a creature that real people used when they had nothing better to do. Meeting Kirk's sharp gaze, the dragon slowly bleeding out of his eyes, he said, "I've lost everything."
"Not everything," Kirk reminded him.
Khan permitted the faintest of smiles. "True."
