Chapter 2
He had known it would be soon. Had read it from the way they moved around him, which had grown even more cautious, had heard it in the way they talked to him, which had grown more clipped and aggressive. He had seen it in the way they looked at each other, which they did with a frequency and obviousness that would have alarmed their superiors had they been present. The air was thick with tension, but with every minute the nervousness of his guards became more tangible, his calmness deepened.
So it was to be today.
As good a day as any.
The night had been better than the day before. They had switched off the glaring lights eventually, leaving on only a soft glow from the floor directly behind the security barrier. The dimmed illumination had actually made him comfortable enough to will himself into a few hours of sleep, which had done wonders. Though he had not been able yet to completely shake off the slight but persistent stiffness still lingering in his muscles (in line with expectations, given the confined space of his holding cell which did not allow more than pacing six steps in either direction), he felt rested and alert, his self-control which had still been shaky the day before firmly in place and his mind finally clear, keen and working properly again.
So when he heard their footfalls approaching his cell in lockstep, he was ready for them. As ready as he would ever be.
"You actually know what it is we are asking of you, Commander."
It was not a question. There was neither room nor time for questions. A pandemic was raging across the planet and the probably most dangerous human ever alive was on his way to this very room. The one human who was probably their best hope, too.
So, not a question. But sheer despair.
Since he knew it was expected from him, Spock answered anyway.
"Admiral, I am aware of the desired objective, which can only be finding an effective way to fight the pathogen as fast as possible. There is the contingency that in order to achieve this, cooperation with Khan Noonien Singh might be necessary. I consider myself sufficiently prepared to undertake this task. "
Admiral Santiago regarded him closely. Actually, Spock felt the eyes of all those gathered around the horseshoe-shaped conference table on him. Looking back at the Admiral with an ease that did not mirror his mental status at all, he had the strange impression of being interrogated. Wondering vaguely about Star Fleet Command's motivation to call his suitability into question now of all moments, when the order to transfer Khan from level 17 had already been given, he waited for Santiago to continue.
"As you know, Commander, there are not many people alive anymore who had direct contact with Khan. All of them, though, are currently serving on the Enterprise and were therefore our first choice not only as advisors for this particular venture."
Still unable to penetrate where this was going, Spock did not say anything when the Admiral paused, rose from his chair and stepped to the fully glazed wall which, in its current non-smoked state, admitted the slightly unsettling view of seventy-two straightly lined up cryotubes in the large storage room behind. A view Spock had purposely avoided ever since he had entered the room.
"I am well aware that those of us who have not yet been involved with Khan Noonien Singh cannot even imagine what you actually had to learn about him from very difficult experiences." The admiral turned to look at Spock again, a small smile on his face. "And I am sure you're already wondering what the hell this is all about, am I right, Commander?"
"I was never in any doubt that there are perfectly sound reasons for this digression, Admiral."
The Admiral's smile flashed full force. "Nicely put, Commander. But you are right, of course." Returning to his seat, Santiago continued. "For various reasons, some crew members of the Enterprise do not approve of the decision to bring in Khan at all."
From the corner of one eye, Spock perceived Dr. McCoy shifting in his seat. Interesting. So far, he had not been aware that the doctor had also voiced his doubts openly, and he made a mental note to inform McCoy of his approval whenever there would be time to do so.
"We understand that you are one of those, Commander, as you have implied on several occasions." The Admiral fixed him again with a firm stare Spock was unable to decipher. "Commander, I want you to know that Star Fleet Command is very sensible of these disapprovals and we have weighed pros and cons very carefully. No matter how it might seem to outsiders, there was no light-minded quashing of objections. Yet, our decision stands, and it does so immovably. So all I need to know is whether yours to support this course of action does as well."
A short beep signaled an incoming message. With a slightly irritated sigh, Admiral Santiago pressed his communication PADD.
"Santiago."
"Admiral, the shuttle from the medical section has just arrived."
Spock felt something clench beneath his solar plexus.
"Thank you. Clear their passage and tell them to proceed up here immediately. I want him to spend as little time outside secured areas as possible."
"Admiral."
Focusing entirely on Santiago to distract himself from his physical reaction to the announcement of Khan's arrival, Spock watched the Admiral silencing the PADD with a flick of his hand. Their eyes met.
"They will be here in about five minutes. Captain Kirk, you are dismissed. Please retreat to the observer room, if you wish to watch. Doctor McCoy, I understand that you finished your preparations?"
Kirk rose from his seat to leave the room, swiftly placing one hand on the doctor's shoulder when passing him. Spock watched the emotions race over McCoy's face. Knowing that what was about to come reduced the Hippocratic Oath to absurdity, and knowing the doctor as well, he was almost sympathetic to the obvious conflict McCoy was in with his task. And it wasn't reassuring at all that he himself was not the only one who had to abandon formerly firm believes in the face of desperate necessity.
"Admiral, everything is arranged. We can begin at your command." Even McCoy's voice betrayed his anxiety.
"Thank you, Doctor. Commander Spock." Refocusing, Spock turned back to the Admiral. "In the light of everything being said before, Commander - are you ready for him?"
Inwardly, Spock took a deep, calming breath. On the outside, all he did was inclining his head slightly. "Admiral. As ready as I'll ever be."
The halls they marched him through were deserted. It was clearly a Star Fleet building, though: the interfaces, the emblems, the style of the few decorations were telling an explicit story. Still, he was positive that he didn't know the structure – after all, odds were that it had been rebuilt after he had crushed the "Vengeance" into San …
Don't go there!
He forced himself back to the present, concentrating on a vague idea that, based on a few curious impressions he had collected on his way here, had begun to shape in his mind. The decontamination sluices at the exits and entrances of both the buildings they had left and entered had definitely not been Star Fleet security standard when he had been revived last time. The streets and plazas he had caught short glimpses of seemed just as strangely abandoned as the corridors they were just passing, and there was a distinct, aggressive smell of some antiseptic agent wafting through the entire building.
Interesting.
Knowing how dangerous prematurely jumping to conclusions could be, he deliberately refrained from forming a fixed opinion. He allowed himself the luxury of a well-founded suspicion, though…
The first two of his guards stopped. Framed by the rest of them, he came to a sudden halt in front of a non-descript door. A communication panel was touched in a swift series of light taps and the security laser beams he was already acquainted with swept a structure scan over both faces of the leading guards. He sensed the nervousness of the others increase with the duration of the procedure, noted how phasers were gripped more tightly, how the human circle around him marginally constricted. Inhaling slowly, he let the calmness that had been building inside him for hours wash through him in cool, soothing waves.
The door opened.
His presence seemed to commandeer the room immediately. Like water, fluid and incompressible, it flooded the space until it filled it up to the very last corner. Though almost concealed by eight security officers who had been chosen for their rather impressive heights and evident physical shape, though hands heavily cuffed on his back, though clad in rather unflattering medical section attire, he somehow managed to instantly dominate the scene.
And from the sounds of the uncomfortable shifting along the table, Spock could tell he wasn't the only one who had perceived the atmospheric shift Khan's entrance had triggered.
Having marched him right in front of the u-shaped table, the guards stepped back. Phasers at the ready and assuring a clear line of fire if necessary, four of them took position at the door and two retreated to each wall to the left and right. Behind one of which, now hidden behind perfectly smoked glass, seventy-two cryotubes were stored, their occupants ignorantly waiting for being forced into the macabre role Star Fleet Command had intended for them.
Spock banished all thoughts about Khan's crew and to what use they would most likely be put very soon by funneling his attention on the man standing before them. Logically, his appearance hadn't changed in the slightest – the object of cryosleep was preservation, after all. The same trim figure that allowed only a glimpse at the brutal strength behind. The same cold, calculating presence and self-assured, eerily calm manner. The same dark hair that fell into familiar, pale, wide-set eyes. Eyes that were now sweeping the men and women at the table with a glance that seemed almost cursory. It didn't linger on any of them and passed Spock with the same swiftness as it had anyone else. There wasn't the smallest sign of recognition, not even a hint of appreciation neither of their life-and-death-struggle, nor the even deeper connection Spock had made them share then.
Had not his Vulcan half been in tight control of his emotions again ever since that day, he would have registered the slight, indescribable disappointment Khan's disregard elicited.
"Mr. Singh."
Santiago's voice, clear and firm. Spock watched how Khan's cool stare slowly returned to the Admiral, not a muscle moving in the pale face. He approved of Santiago taking the initiative and ending the non-verbal prelude - Khan's mere presence was already engrossing the situation entirely too much.
"It would be an insult to the intellect of everyone present if I wasted any time with polite phrases. So let's skip the 'How-do-you-do's and 'Hope-you-were-able-to-settle-down's. We all know this is no social get-together, so I'll do us a favor and come straight to the point." The Admiral paused and leaned forward, emphasizing every single one of his next words. "You are here because we expect your cooperation in a matter of utmost relevance."
Not a request, but a definite demand then, semantically as well as in inflection – not an approach Spock would have chosen. If Santiago had hoped to deal a blow to Khan's self-restraint, however, he could tell immediately that the Admiral had not been successful. There was neither a verbal nor any other reaction whatsoever. With unblinking eyes, Khan simply held Santiago's gaze.
"Star Fleet Command is aware that the training you received in the 20th century included biological warfare." The Admiral let unmasked disgust color the last two words. "This not only entailed the development of highly effective agents but that of compatible antidotes as well. It is the latter expertise you will contribute to an already highly qualified Federation research unit, and you will unconditionally offer that support on every level and in every way."
No stranger at all to the absolute command of his own facial expression, Spock had to admit that Khan's utterly unmoving countenance was…impressive. In defiance of the Admiral's ongoing challenges, the immobile mask was so perfectly in place that Spock actually flinched inwardly at the sudden sound of a voice he recognized immediately, even though he hadn't heard it in almost six years. Soft and low. Unflawed modulation. Every single syllable distinctly articulated.
"You seem to have unlimited knowledge about me at your command…" Khan's eyes pointedly flicked to the insignia on the right shoulder of Santiago's uniform. "…Admiral. I confess that I, on the other hand, am still woefully ignorant regarding this entire situation." When he continued after a tiny pause, his tone of voice had grown slightly colder. "To begin with, you could enlighten me as to who it actually is I am currently talking to."
With three sentences Kahn had managed to hijack the conversation – and from the slight flush on the Admiral's cheeks Spock could tell that Santiago was well aware that control was slipping from his grasp. The faint shade of pink was barely visible. Yet, it was there.
And he knew hoping that Khan would miss it would be optimistic to the point of foolishness.
"I didn't expect that names matter to you." Spock had to give Santiago credit. There was nothing in his voice that betrayed any uncertainty at all. "It is Admiral Enrique Santiago, Star Fleet Command. Who is still assuming your unequivocal consent to the course of action that was just depicted. Mr. Singh."
For the first time since he had been marched before them, Khan seemed to have decided to allow himself a perceptible movement. Slightly tilting his head to one side, he subjected Santiago's face to an intent inspection. As if to memorize each and every detail.
"Admiral Santiago." Khan's voice, if that was possible, had grown even softer. "You do assume a great deal."
… and you will unconditionally offer that support on every level and in every way.
A weapon to be wielded. An instrument to be put to use. A gadget to be switched on and off on demand…
He denied himself giving in to the rage he felt begging to be unleashed. Instead, he firmly locked it away to let it simmer until it was time. Knowing that at one particular point in the future, it would make the force he would strike with all the more overpowering. Now, it would only compromise his thinking.
Khan returned his attention to the Admiral who had been giving this extremely transparent performance of being in ascendancy. Not only was Santiago the highest ranking officer in the room and therefore per Star Fleet procedure the one in charge of negotiations and decisions (and thus the most likely source for information). It was also much easier to block out the Vulcan by concentrating on someone else entirely.
Spock's presence had not really surprised him. After McCoy had been put in charge of his medical supervision, he had counted on other crew members of the Enterprise having been brought in on this. Still, actually facing the man responsible for the death of his people had posed a vehement challenge to his self-control. That it had held so far, that neither sorrow nor wrath had yet broken through went to show that he could still rise even above his own expectations. Yet, overworking his mental abilities now of all moments was a risk he would not take.
So Khan had deleted Spock from his perception. For the moment.
His focus was elsewhere. The Admiral's rather pathetic attempts at bullying him into cooperation had put him on his guard like nothing else that had happened so far. It was too crudely done, felt more like an alibi than anything else. His every instinct told him that this was only the opening move to the actual game which had not even begun. That Santiago had already lost his cool after Khan had done nothing but adding his own (and very gentle) provocation to the conversation told him further that self-control was not one of the Admiral's strong suits. So he obviously was at the mercy of an undisciplined man with an agenda - an unhealthy combination at the best of times. Never one to be foolhardy, Khan knew when to take things slow and had therefore phrased his last comment very carefully. Neither consenting to nor refusing anything, it still hung between himself and the Admiral
Who was now leaning back in his seat, apparently having fully regained command of himself.
"And you, Mr. Singh, seem to labor under the impression that you do have a choice in the matter."
Ah. They were getting there. His cool-headedness intensifying with every inch they were closing in on what all this truly was about, Khan exhaled slowly. "Don't I, Admiral?"
Spock had not known Santiago's smile could grow that cold. "You tell me."
The Admiral's fingers flew over the control panel embedded in the table before him. From the corner of his eye, Kahn noticed a change in the optic quality of the wall to his right. Had not all eyes in the room been drawn to it immediately, had not, within a split second, the atmosphere shifted from tense to being strained to bursting point, he would not have turned to look.
But as it was, he did.
Spock was the only one who looked from the now transparent wall back to Khan soon enough to observe it. The raw emotion on that face usually frozen with self-control was not something he had been prepared for. A few years ago, he had seen those eyes blazing with fury and those features contorted with hate, but those memories from their desperate fight were nothing compared to what had now taken hold of Kahn's expression.
It was over so fast that anyone else but Spock would have sworn to have imagined it. When Santiago and the others returned their attention to the man before them, Khan's impenetrable mask of icy dominance was back in place. And Spock was quite sure that, probably aside from Doctor McCoy, he was the only one who registered the bright cold light in Khan's eyes that had not been there before.
And then, those eyes turned to him.
Kahn's gaze smashed into his with a ferocity Spock had not experienced before. He felt transfixed by its potency, unable to discern anything from it, neither rage, nor disdain, nor relief, nor gratitude. That look didn't carry any identifiable emotions at all, or maybe it carried all of them at once, he couldn't tell. In the back of his head, Spock was aware of Admiral Santiago clarifying who it was still alive in those cryotubes and how it had come to pass that the torpedoes had exploded without their human load, that fateful day on the Vengeance. He heard the voice, yet for all intents and purposes, there was no one else in the room but Khan and himself, locked in yet another combat Spock realized he could not win. So when the incredible intensity with which that gaze had fastened itself upon him became too much, Spock did what he usually never needed to.
He looked away first.
Silence greeted him when he mentally returned to the room, the air seeming to thrum with tension. A quick glance to the other officers at the table told him that no one seemed to have noticed what had just happened – everyone's attention was fixed on Khan who was staring at Admiral Santiago as if his and Spock's eyes had never met.
"Tell me what you want." There was no defeat in Khan's voice, not a trace of submission. Spock doubted that there ever would be. Even now, when all of a sudden, there was something, *someone*, to lose again, the iron grip on his emotions did not fail him.
"I have just explicated…"
"*No*, Admiral!" Khan's words cut off Santiago in midsentence. "What you did was attempting to goad me into falling for your provocations. I think we have moved beyond that stage." Some of the force of the gaze he had just shared with Spock crept into his voice. "Tell me. What you want."
Santiago slowly rose from his chair. Compared with Khan's cold composure, the Admiral suddenly seemed to blaze with emotion.
"Right at this moment, there are tens of thousands dying all over this planet. *Your* planet, Mr. Singh! Pneumonic plague, caused by a strain of Yersinia pestis which is apparently resistant to all antibiotic agents or any other control methods we were so far able to think of." Spock couldn't help the involuntary jerk he gave when Santiago suddenly left his place at the table. Approaching Khan had been strictly tabooed by any security advisor involved on the matter and he could tell by the motion running through the line of guards that they disagreed with the Admiral's surprising action as much he did himself. Yet, undermining Santiago's authority by openly questioning him now was not an option either. So all Spock did was watch, every muscle in attendance.
A few feet away from Khan, Santiago came to a halt, almost spitting his next word in the other man's face. "The suffering is beyond description. The death toll is rising with every day and we are not one step closer to finding a way to stop it. But you, you don't care about that a bit. You still think this entire affair doesn't affect you at all. Well, Mr. Singh. This is exactly what is going to change. Very soon."
Spock could see Khan's gaze darken. The only sign that he was completely aware of Santiago's next move which would, once more, turn his people into seventy-two weapons to be used against him.
The Admiral turned and walked back to his seat, gesturing to the transparent wall as he went. "Two hours ago, one of your crew members was submitted to the same de-freezing process you underwent a few days ago. He is now in limbo between cryosleep and being awake and we are keeping him that way. There's measurable brain activity, a heartbeat and therefore an active systemic circulation."
Khan's head had lowered a fraction, his stare still firmly fixed on Santiago from under his fringe.
"You should take a look, Mr. Singh. Right there, the first cryotube in the left row."
For a few seconds nobody moved. Then, slowly, as if pulled against his will, Khan turned his head to the right, his eyes focusing on the point in the storage room Santiago had indicated. His nostrils flared and his ribcage visibly extended with a deep intake of breath. Yet, his face remained motionless.
The Admiral had reached his place at the table, but didn't sit down. "This man is currently one of the most intensely monitored medical cases in San Francisco. As you see, there is an assistant available for following our every instruction even now. What you cannot see, and I will therefore tell you, is that the hyposyringe lying next to the open tube is loaded." Santiago waited until Khan's eyes had left the face of the unconscious man and flickered to the table beside his head, before going on in a chilling voice. "It is loaded with a highly concentrated, pure sample of the antibiotic-resistant Yersinia pestis."
Khan's head snapped around. Spock was by no means an expert when it came to emotions, but not even he could miss the mixture of disbelieving horror and abysmal loathing in those eyes.
So Khan's inhuman self-command was suffering the first cracks.
Whether Santiago was aware of that or not, Spock couldn't say, yet the Admiral continued: "This sample was amplified to make sure to infect an organism with even your remarkable immune system. Oh yes, we know you can contract it. We also know the necessary concentration. We know because the first thing we did after your blood was sufficiently thawed was to test it as a possible remedy while we kept you in an induced coma. Unfortunately, it didn't work, or we could have saved ourselves the trouble of this pleasant meeting today. Still, we took advantage of the opportunity and did some rather remarkable experiments on that blood of yours. The concentration of Yersinia in that hyposyringe is five times as high as necessary for infecting you and your kind. A circumstance I would be only too delighted to demonstrate."
Lifting his right hand, Santiago nodded in the direction of the wall. The medical assistant behind it picked up the hyposyringe.
Instantly, each muscle of Kahn's body tensed up to breaking point. Both of his hands had closed into white-knuckled fists, and his cervical veins were bulging. The longer Spock was watching, the less he could tolerate the sight, though he was unable to justify the growing need to avert his eyes. When it finally became too much and he had to look away, his gaze fell on Dr. McCoy, who was staring at some point on the table before him. His face showing signs of a similar struggle as Khan's entire body did.
A word finished it all. It was a small one only, uttered in a very quiet, but unwavering voice. "Stop."
Admiral Santiago regarded Khan for a few moments before he spoke. "I'm afraid I didn't hear you, Mr. Singh."
Khan's voice did not grow louder. "I *will* cooperate. Stop."
An expression of fierce determination and fury on his face, Santiago planted both of his hands on the table. "But I don't want your cooperation, Mr. Singh." Leaning forward, the Admiral was hurling his words down the room. "I want your unconditional devotion. I want every thought and every heartbeat of yours committed to nothing else but finding an antidote. I want every single cell of your prodigious brain dedicated to this cause every minute of every day. And as it is, I fortunately do have the means to get what I want."
A swiftly lifted finger. An answering nod from the assistant on the other side of the wall.
The hyposyringe emptied its entire load into the neck of a three-hundred years old comatose man.