Chapter 4

Spock had been standing in front of the door to the holding cell complex for several minutes already, just out of range of the surveillance system monitoring the cell block section.

He was well aware that he was stalling. Not that this kind of behavior was usually part of his repertoire, quite the opposite. Still, he was ready to confess to himself that the imminent confrontation did indeed trouble him. There was their history that could easily make the cooperation between Khan and himself as volatile as a clash of matter and antimatter. There was the additional fact of Starfleet now being responsible for the impending death of one of Kahn's crew members. There was the point that they still, after all, needed the knowledge Khan apparently had on the field of medical microbiology as well as the man's ingeniousness to make use of what he knew.

But aside from all that and more, Spock still recalled all too clearly Khan's most subtle strategies, impenetrable for outsiders until it was too late. He remembered the inscrutable ability of adapting those strategies to changing circumstances, turning apparent drawbacks into advantages with frightening smoothness. That most disturbing skill to unerringly detect the only possible way out of a virtually dead-end scenario.

And he knew that the basis of all this was an adamant determination, a force of will that was beyond the grasp of most of them in its imperturbability. Set on a target once, it would not swerve until the brilliant mind it drove on and on had reached a solution. And as much as Spock was convinced that finding a way to save his crew member was, at the moment, paramount in all he thought and did, he had watched Khan's glance fix on Admiral Santiago this morning, just before the guards had marched him out of the conference room again, back to the shuttle, back to his holding cell. He had caught Khan's eyes then for one, only one fraction of a second.

And in them, he had read Santiago's death sentence.

Pushing the doubts and unease he should never have allowed to surface anyway to the back of his mind, Spock straightened slightly. His concerns about the threat of history repeating itself had to remain secondary; there were only two essential aspects right now that needed his absolute focus: finding an antidote to stop the pandemic and preventing Khan from turning from ticking time bomb to epic detonation. Preferably, he would be able to attain the one by ensuring the other. And he would start doing so now, to the best of his abilities.

One quick, determined step took him within the detection range of the surveillance system. With a soft chirp, the laser beams came to live and scanned his face, some light turned from red to green. And the door swished open.

He knew it was only a few meters down a brightly lit corridor. After the first six steps, he already caught sight of the first of Khan's guards who snapped to attention immediately. Five more strides, and the control room with the single cell behind it came into full view. Another six steps, and he was close enough to observe the hard, unmoving lines the face of the man it contained was set in. As well as the chilling cold that hit him when Khan slowly lifted his eyes.

He was sitting on the bunk in the right rear corner, elbows resting on his knees, hands crossed at the wrists in front of him. Despite the way his torso was bent forward slightly, he somehow still conveyed the same erectness and pride, the same stoic immobility he always did. Aside from the small lift of his head that had made them lock eyes, Khan still had to move a muscle. There was no blink, not the lightest shift of fingers, no expanding ribcage or lifting shoulder.

Spock was surprised at how much this performance unnerved him. He was by no means an authority on emotions, but after what had happened almost two hours ago, he had expected to be able to detect at least…something in Khan's body language, his facial expression. Some tear in that blank, cold surface, even though he might not have been able to interpret it correctly. The fact that he couldn't only went to show that he obviously still underestimated the other's aptitude to control his emotional display. Vulcan assumption, however unwitting, when facing a human? Possibly. He would do well to constantly remind himself of the possible results of miscalculation where this particular human was concerned.

Mentally slapping himself, Spock called himself to order. There was a task to attend to. People were suffering, dying.

Including Khan's crew member.

It was high time, as he believed they'd put it, to finally get down to what needed to be done.

Khan had heard him several seconds before the guards even reacted. Where his captain's steps had always rather resembled a march, resounding with purpose and maybe a little too much authority to be the mirror of true confidence, *his* footfalls had always predicated understatement. And still did.

With all of his determination still firmly fixed on the one objective of the moment, Kahn forced himself to smooth out the ragged edges of impatience that were tearing at his composure. He knew very well that rushing things would get him nowhere; he was subject to their plans and schedules and if he wanted to achieve anything, he would have to adjust to whatever modus operandi they had in mind. That didn't mean, though, that he wasn't able to literally hear the hours ticking by that were still left before it would be too late.

The fact that it obviously was the Vulcan who would be the key to finally stop his enforced idleness was a minor detail Khan didn't pay much attention to. Only half a day ago, that would have been different. But the events of the morning had reduced Spock's relevance to the scene as Khan read it to a minor role. At most. Due to the emotional chaos Santiago's actions had hurled him into, Khan's re-evaluation of Spock had been stopped before it had been truly put into motion. The fact that his crew had not died at the hands of the Vulcan was filed away, and that was as far as Khan had let any thoughts of the man enter his consciousness. What had truly happened on the Enterprise and the Vengeance was simmering in some far corner of his mind which would gradually, eventually come up with a reformed picture of Spock. Right now, though, what he thought and felt about the Vulcan was just as irrelevant as anything else that did not touch on developing that antidote. So all Khan saw when he watched the Vulcan's approach was the Starfleet representative who had obviously been assigned for the upcoming macabre joint venture.

But when he made eye contact, he saw, if only for a split second, so much more than that.

There had been indecisiveness.

Vacillation.

With his mind snapping to attention, Khan fully focused on that flicker of emotion he had perceived. It wasn't that he was surprised to read anything from Spock at all; there was a human half inside him, one that, as Khan recalled very well, all the Vulcan education and training could not always eliminate. Principally, they were equally matched regarding emotional control, but as he himself cracked from time to time, so did Spock. And here, Khan was very aware of the one immense advantage he had: When it came to recognizing emotions, he easily and definitely outclassed the Vulcan. Not only was he most familiar with his own as well as with the feelings of others, he had also been extensively and successfully trained to detect the slightest emotion leaking from his opponents as well as interpreting them correctly. Moreover, he excelled at putting them to maximum use.

What he read from Spock as the man drew nearer might have been only a sliver of hesitation, the tiniest fraction of doubt. Yet, Khan didn't need more to recognize the conflict the Vulcan obviously found himself in. And the fact that he could not fully keep his feelings inside was a reliable indication that this conflict was immense.

Appreciating the flicker of surprise of his own this realization elicited, Khan had already mentally shifted gears. Through his own struggle with the excruciating fact of the impending death of one of his people, he had not spared a single thought on the possibility that Santiago's act might have induced resentment, even shock, among those of Starfleet who had witnessed it. Regarding the strong moral foundation Vulcan philosophy was based upon, there was a high probability that Spock categorically condemned what had happened earlier today. Not only because the life of a helpless man had been deliberately put on stake. But also because of what that act was supposed to achieve.

Slowly, Khan rose from his sitting position. From the corner of his eye, he registered the slightly rising weapons of his guards as he took a few measured steps towards the security barrier. Coming to a halt at about one meter before he would have set off the proximity alarm he waited, still holding eye contact, until Spock had stopped as well on the other side. Silently watching the Vulcan for another moment, Khan considered the options that might rise from the possible support of Vulcan ethics.

And he was very intent to make full use of it.

Searching his memory, Khan went back a few years, years that had only been days for him. It didn't take him long to find the words with which he finally broke the silence between them.

"Now." Inwardly taking a deep, deliberate breath, he let his voice grow a little softer. "Shall we begin?"

The lab was located on the same level, only a few doors away from Khan's holding cell. They had made their short way there in complete silence as well as the company of all of the guards. Spock knew that eight men would remain with them at all times, separated from the actual work space of the laboratory by the same sort of security barrier that was part of Khan's cell.

And, as he had anticipated, facing Khan from the other, secure side of the wall had been entirely different from having to share the same confined space with him.

After the barrier had closed behind them, Spock positioned himself at its center, watching how Khan calmly inspected clean benches, working surfaces, data displays, instruments, stored chemicals and the usual general lab equipment. He moved between the tables and shelves with the same self-assurance as he always did, and after working with Starfleet's finest microbiologists for the better part of the past weeks, Spock could tell from how Kahn held pipettes, from the devices he checked, from the machines he switched on by way of trial, that the man definitely knew what he was doing.

Had he allowed it to surface, he would have been surprised at the flicker of hope passing through him at the sight.

"The instruments and computers in this particular room are primed for your finger and voice print, as well as mine." Spock's voice was low and calm. "You will find, though, that the data you'll be able to attain are restricted to a certain security level. Should you deem it necessary to gain further access, you'll have to pass on an according request to me."

Spock was glad he was observing the other closely, or he would have missed the short, wordless nod Khan gave before he wandered back to one of the data screens without looking up even once. Quick and confidently, his fingers moved over the surface, calling up information that scrolled down the screen in columns, intercepted by the occasional figure. Spock knew that the unerring swiftness with which Khan used Starfleet equipment should not surprise him – the weapons and ships the man had designed while being forced working for Marcus were impressive evidence of his profound knowledge of the systems they used. Yet, Spock was ready to admit that the sight and its implications were a little…disquieting.

He didn't have to watch it for long. After not more than half a minute, Kahn's glance left the screen, lifted to meet his. And his voice was as chilling as his eyes. "I am under the impression that the access granted to me is limited to the conclusions of the analyses conducted so far."

It was Spock's turn for a short, wordless nod. He had seen this coming, right from the beginning. The safety concerns of Starfleet Command would not make this easier.

Khan's voice, if possible, had taken on an even colder note. "I am not able to make myself familiar with preliminary considerations, methods or discussions of the past experiments on the pathogen without…passing an according request on to you?"

Perfectly aware that working productively under these circumstances would be extremely difficult for anyone, ridiculously advanced intellect notwithstanding, Spock slightly inclined his head once more. "That is correct."

For the first time since Khan's control had cracked in the face of his infected crew member, Spock witnessed emotion breaking through that cool, unmoving surface. It was nothing more but a deep intake of breath and a clearly audible exhalation. Yet, it was more than enough to convey the fury raging behind those cold eyes when Kahn spoke again.

"And of course my requests won't be granted without you consulting with Starfleet Command first." After the slightest pause Khan continued, cutting off any comment Spock might have had on that statement. "Mr. Spock, I hereby request access to the complete files of any and all analyses and experiments conducted on Yersinia pestis within the past months in order to familiarize myself with the preliminary research on that matter." His voice took on a tone that would have etched glass. "Solely for scientific purposes, of course."

For the third time within the last minutes, Spock found himself nodding. "I am not at liberty to make those data available to you at once, but I'm very confident I will be able to do so within the next thirty minutes."

Because of course he *did* need to confer with Starfleet Command about handing over the requested data, he turned to signal the guards to let him exit, and he did so very quickly. Still he was not fast enough to miss the look of contempt flitting over Khan's face. Contempt so supreme and pure even Spock could not mistake it for anything else.

It was well past twenty two hundred Earth Time when Spock finally exited the turbo lift to the floor of Kirk's temporary quarters. He was struggling with the unfamiliar sensation of feeling on edge, and the urge to return to his own quarters to have some time to himself was strong and hard to ignore. Yet he knew that he was expected, and that he was very late as well. They had agreed on the necessity to keep each other informed of any further events and developments, so Kirk, McCoy and he himself were to meet here in the Captain's quarters after each of them would have finished with their assigned duties. Nobody was reckless enough to go out these days anymore.

When the door slid open in front of him, he couldn't help but notice the abrupt interruption in the low murmur of voices that wafted towards him from the general direction of the sitting area.

"Spock! About damn time!"

His captain's voice, tinged with something Spock could not quite place. With no intention to let himself being pushed, he calmly stepped through the doorway to where he knew Kirk and McCoy would be waiting for him.

Both were seated at the low table in the middle of the room, clear, colorless, fizzy liquid in high glasses in front of them. From the lack of any distinctive scent, Spock assumed it to actually be plain sparkling water.

"Captain, Doctor. Good evening."

"Would have been a lot better had you informed us in time about your delay instead of keeping us waiting here for hours!"

Spock felt his eyebrows lift at the annoyance that was now clearly detectable in Kirk's words.

Before he was able to react, though, McCoy chimed in, his tone of voice a rather cheerful one.

"You know, Spock, our Captain grew a little anxious here. I *did* try to comfort him, telling him that yes, though we do have the two men probably unsurpassed in controlling their emotions confined together right now, and yes, though both have proven impressively that as soon as they crack, they turn into hardly stoppable, lethal berserks, I was quite sure that we would have heard of it had that particular, happy event taken place tonight."

Spock perceived the words, processed the content, and, when getting nowhere, tried to identify and factor in the subtext. A rather disagreeable task after he had spent the better and extremely trying part of the day in the presence of, to his mind, the most dangerous man currently alive. He did his best, though, if only because he regarded the two men in front of him as friends.

The result he arrived at was, in retrospect, not exactly surprising.

"You were worried."

Kirk's exasperated snort was almost drowned out by McCoy's angry words, now bare of any cheerfulness whatsoever.

"Damn right we were!"

Allowing their reproachful, infuriated glances daring him to answer for a few moments, Spock debated with himself whether to simply let them know about the sheer impossibility of keeping them informed of his every move while dealing with Khan and leave again for a good night's sleep. He had not calculated on the necessity to defend himself for doing what was expected of him, at least not to these two men of all people. On the contrary.

And because after the day he had had, he didn't feel up to self-justification or to any conflict whatsoever, Spock, for once, deliberately chose the line of least resistance.

"I apologize for having been the reason for any concern on your side. In order to avoid resembling future situations, I will see to it that you'll be briefed about my coming dealings with Kahn as completely as possible." Unable to keep the cool formality from his voice he usually reserved for putting distance between himself and his dialog partner, he presented a suggestion his quick thinking had already come up with. "I believe this task might be delegated to one of the guards. They will be informed accordingly tomorrow, if that is acceptable for you."

During the silence that followed, Spock became acutely aware of the fact that he was still standing in front of them, feeling more like a rebuked cadet with every moment that passed. He realized that his own posture had taken on a degree of stiffness he had been sure to have overcome during the years they had spent together in deep space and…

"Jesus, Spock." Interrupting Spock's rather unpleasant musings, Kirk patted the vacant seat to his right. "Sit down and have a drink, will you? You just got us a little anxious, that's all; it's been kind of a wild day for all of us."

Very aware that Kirk had neither declined nor accepted the offer of more detailed information he just had made, Spock stared at his captain for the fraction of second before he closed the distance between his current position and the table, carefully lowering himself to the rather low-slung surface of the seat Kirk had indicated. Another moment of hesitation, in which he decided that Kirk's invitation to sit had been some kind of olive branch, and he reached for the spare glass, filled it from the almost empty pitcher and took one measured sip.

He had been right. Sparkling water.

Maybe there would be time to think about the implications of that particular fact later.

"So." It was McCoy who picked up the so far rather halting conversation, contributing his share to easing the tension. "How is the homicidal mastermind doing?"

Taking another sip from his glass, Spock got his thoughts lined up, smoothly switching to reporting mode to give them a full and detailed account of this day's confrontation between Khan and himself.

He had to give them credit. They were listening attentively, didn't interrupt him once, didn't ask for the obvious when he had finished. In fact, nobody spoke or moved at all for quite some time after he had finished.

When Kirk finally leant back in his seat, shaking his head slightly. Spock knew that the discussion was about to begin.

"He didn't ask for his man once?"

"That is correct, Captain. Since he very clearly *is* as adept at medical microbiology as Admiral Santiago indicated, he definitely knows about the incubation period and stages of infection of pneumonic plague. He therefore might not deem it necessary to waste time asking for information." Spock poured himself another glass of water. "In fact, misspent time is very obviously the thing that currently concerns him most."

"Well, hard to hold that against him, is it?" The hint of empathy in McCoy's voice was a rather uncharacteristical streak when it came to anything concerning Khan. "As it is, I do have information on that particular subject."

Since Kirk did not give the slightest sign of surprise, Spock concluded that the two of them had already exchanged news before he had arrived. Looking quickly from one to the other, he sat his glass back on the table and fully turned towards McCoy. "I take it this information could be relevant, Doctor."

"I should hope so, it took me several hours of hard persuading, after all, and Admiral Santiago is not exactly open to influence. I won't bore you with details, since you won't be able to appreciate my negotiation tactics anyway, but the bottom line is: I was allowed to put Khan's crew member in a kind of semi-cryosleep, meaning I lowered his body temperature considerably. His bodily functions are still intact and running, but at a very low speed. This and the decreased ambient temperature should also distinctly decelerate the microorganism's activity, though I can't tell you for the life of me how much time exactly this will buy that man." McCoy leant forward, eyes and voice perfectly sober. "I'm very aware, though, that it is only you who can judge if and when clueing Khan in on this could make all the difference. So I thought, you know, better keep you in the loop."

Mechanically, Spock felt himself nodding, heard himself thanking McCoy for his effort and the information. His mind, though, was filled with the image of Khan Noonien Sing, eyes glued to the screen of some data unit, who had only begun poring over those studies, analyses and screenings when Spock had finally left him that evening. Who had refused food, had refused being led back to his cell for the night. Who would most certainly not even think of sleep, hearing the life of his man tick away within his head.

Oblivious of the fact that the clock had been reset.