Ba'Sugh
Somewhere
June 6, 2154
The Klingon written language matched its progenitors—harsh angles and slicing curves punctuated each symbol, in a graphic representation of the guttural, barked tones of the Klingon spoken word. It was a language designed primarily to impart information quickly, with little care given to niceties.
Dr. Soong appreciated it.
At the front of the Ba'Sugh's bridge, a large, vertical monitor covered the bulkhead, extending over two meters wide and a meter tall. On it was displayed a starchart, set against a standard Klingon tactical display, dividing the sector into triangles. A red-and-yellow color scheme highlighted the map, radiating outwards into the dimness of the bridge.
"Once we're safely past Orion space, we'll set a course for these coordinates," Soong said, pointing to their destination on the star map. The course had them curving thru an extended finger of the Orion Hegemony before veering off laterally, into unclaimed space. "The Klingons call it Klach D'kel Brakt." Soong captured the harsh consonants of Klingonese with near perfection. "I call it the Briar Patch. It's a little catchier, don't you think?" he added, his face slanted in a smirk.
Lôchêsh looked at his father, puzzled. "The Briar Patch?" the exile asked.
Soong gave his son a genial harrumph. "You should have read more of the books I left for you," Soong responded, only half-seriously; he realized that their time in exile had been preoccupied with survival, and subjects that did not relate to their continued existence had been ignored. "The region is flooded with radiation from supernova remnants," he explained, "making it dangerous to travel through. The Klingons have never mapped it, but there are signs of at least two habitable planets inside. It's unlikely anyone will find us."
Maâlîk, watching and listening with disgust, couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "This is your plan?" he said condescendingly, giving the viewscreen a punctuated wave of his hand. "To hide. Again."
Soong shot a directed glare at the insolent youth. "The embryos need to mature in a safe environment," Soong retorted, matching the condescension, as if still lecturing to the ten-year-old boy he had once raised.
"Starfleet isn't going to give up so easily," Maâlîk retorted, struggling to quell the ire rising in his voice. How can the old man not understand? He thought to himself, in a building rage. Does he honestly believe that Earth is just going to leave us be, that they'll be content with anything less than our deaths? Has he gone senile? "They'll send other ships. This gas cloud won't protect us!" He waved his hand again, this time rattling the viewscreen with the force of impact.
"All right." If the boy wants authority, then it's time for him to understand responsibility. "What course would you set, Malik?"
The tables suddenly turned, Maâlîk found himself stumped. "I'm not certain," he admitted, causing Soong to nod, as if his point had been proven. But Maâlîk wasn't giving in. "But I know that running away isn't the answer," the Augment declared as he wracked the deep recesses of his brain. Somewhere in there, in the midst of old lessons and unforgotten memories, a sliver of an idea seemed to crystallize. "Are you familiar with the name Botany Bay?"
"It's a penal colony on the shores of Australia," Lôchêsh answered uncertainly, uncertain where Maâlîk was going.
"It's also the name of a pre-warp vessel launched at the end of the Great Wars," Maâlîk clarified, growing excited as he spoke. "The ship carried many of our brethren, including Khan Noonien Singh himself."
Soong bit back his retort; even though he wanted to give Maâlîk a tongue-lashing, giving in to anger would accomplish little. "Botany Bay is a myth," Soon snapped instead, directing vitriolic spit at his son. "No more real than the Flying Dutchman! There's no evidence it ever existed!" How can a rational, scientific mind believe in fairy tales? And Malik believes he can be a leader?
"All records of the launch were destroyed!" Malik replied angrily, voicing the certainty of a conspiracy theorist. "They didn't want to be followed!"
Soong sighed to himself. It's like arguing with a…well, a teenager. "Even if you're right, the ship was lost, never to be heard from again."
"That's exactly my point!" Maâlîk pressed for the advantage. "Khan was a great leader, but he made one fatal mistake—he ran from his enemies rather than face them! We've spent our entire lives running and hiding, and you keep telling us that 'one day' we'll return to assume our rightful place! How long must we cower? How long must we tremble with fear? How long must we withhold our vengeance? How long must our destiny be delayed?" Maâlîk pounded a fist on the console as righteous fury built. "When are we going to make a stand?" he bellowed fiercely.
Soong starred angrily at the youth. "The matter is not open for debate!" he snapped, equally fierce. "Alter our heading," he ordered the navigator. "Set a course one-eight-four-mark-three. We're going to the Briar Patch." The doctor brushed past the Augments and through the rear doors. "I'll be in my lab!" he snapped as he left.
…
Enterprise
In chase
His duty shift ended, Archer found himself unable to go to sleep. Too many thoughts strayed across his mind, unbidden, unwilling to quiet. This mission is getting to me, Archer decided, as he gave up on sleep. Rising from his head, he gave Porthos a scratch, and left his cabin, looking for the only member of the crew that he felt completely comfortable sharing his thoughts with.
For his part, Dr. Phlox sat in the mess hall, unaccompanied by any humanoids, but surrounded by enough food to feed a platoon. Ordering coffee from the drink station, Archer looked over at the physician.
"Approaching a new sleep cycle," Phlox said apologetically.
"When does your hibernation begin?" Archer asked. Unlike humans, Denobulans did not require daily sleep; instead, once a year, they entered a deep state of hibernation.
"Not for another few weeks, but I would like to increase my body mass by at least ten percent," Phlox answered, eyeing the omelet on his plate. The doctor was well-known among the crew for his culinary curiosity, and could often be found sampling the dishes from other cultures. "To tell you the truth, I'm not very hungry."
"You're worried about the embryos?" Archer asked, taking his cup from the dispenser.
Phlox nodded dejectedly. "I suppose this whole mission is setting me on edge," the doctor acknowledged ruefully.
"We're on their tail, Phlox. We're catching up as fast as we can," Archer assured the doctor.
Phlox nodded in appreciation, and changed the subject. "What brings you here, Captain? As much as I appreciate the company, I sense you have something on your mind."
Archer pulled out a chair and sat down next to Phlox. "I couldn't sleep," he admitted, mometarily contemplating the absurdity of drinking coffee to cure his sleeplessness.
"Well, I can give you something for that," the doctor said. "But I doubt that's the best way of handling it."
Archer smiled momentarily, before his face clouded over. "The Augments refer to Soong as their 'father'," Archer said.
"And that troubles you?" Phlox asked, curious.
"It made me think," Archer conceded slowly, watching the steam from his beverage twist higher in the climate-controlled air.
"Ah," Phlox answered, understanding. "Who's his real father?"
"The humans used as the biological sources for the Augments…all they did was supply their genetic material. None of them played a role in raising the first batch of children," the captain explained. "With the amount of genetic manipulation, it's arguable if they're even the 'biological' parents. Soong…raised these children as his own. His love for them is evident."
"I have five children of my own," Phlox responded. "Although…it hasn't always been easy. I haven't talked with my two younger sons in a number of years."
"How does that work?" Archer asked, feeling a wave of interest. "I mean, how do Denobulans determine who the parents are?" The captain was referring to the polygamous gamous structure of Denobulan families: Denobulans were allowed to have up to three spouses, meaning that Phlox had three wives, each of whom had three husbands. In an extended Denobulan family, this resulted in forty-two possible sexual combinations.
"One of the biological parents is the equivalent of a human mother and father," Phlox answered. "The other adults in the family are more akin to…your aunts and uncles." It's not such a great mystery, he reflected.
The two officers sat in silence for awhile, as the doctor picked at his omelet, and Archer's coffee grew cold.
"Sometimes I wonder if our absolute stance on it is a mistake," Archer commented.
"What do you mean?" Phlox looked up sharply in confusion.
Archer smiled bashfully, realizing that he had issued an apparent non sequitur. "We—humanity—banned genetic engineering as an instinctive reaction. You know, the fire's hot, so we yanked back our hand. But your people, Doctor, have managed to incorporate genetic engineering without…well, without making madmen. Is there something about humanity that makes us incapable of handling it?"
"What's really on your mind, captain?" Phlox pushed towards the heart of the matter.
"What do you know about Clarke's Syndrome?"
"It's a degenerative brain disorder that afflicts humans." Among other things, Phlox held degrees in exo-medicine.
"My father died of it when I was twelve," the captain explained.
"I'm sorry."
"He had frequent pain, hallucinations, he would talk to people who weren't there…Often he couldn't recognize me or my mother, towards the end of his life." Like other neurological disorders, Clarke's Syndrome not only wreaked havoc on the victim, but disrupted the lives of their family and friends, as they sought to provide emotional support during the destructive final years of their loved one's life.
Phlox understood intuitively. As a physician, he had seen the suffering firsthand. "And you were thinking, if genetic engineering had been permitted…" Phlox trailed off, encouraging the captain to voice it.
"Maybe Soong has a point," Archer confirmed. "Maybe we're denying ourselves vast medical expanses, simply out of our unwillingness to…to confront some existential questions."
"I've had time to examine his work more closely," Phlox mused. "I'm forced to admit some of it is extremely inventive. He's really quite brilliant; it's a shame such a man has to remain incarcerated."
"He broke the law. That's why he was in prison." Archer had reached his peace. "And that's why I'm going to make sure he goes back." The captain stood up, and returned his cup to the waste dispenser. "Denobula perfected genetic engineering a long time ago, but you never came close to destroying yourselves."
"Perhaps we were simply fortunate," Phlox said, playing the devil's advocate.
"Or maybe your instincts finally progressed, caught up with your intellect." Archer smiled, but his face remained troubled. "On the other hand…nothing about this mission feels right. Are we committing a wrong to fix a wrong?"
"What do you think, Captain?" Phlox pressed gently.
"I think…the only way for this mission to end is in more death."
…
Ba'Sugh
Somewhere
The doors to Soong's laboratory slid open with a clank, disturbing the doctor from his work. He didn't look up from his work; he knew who the visitor was, and wanted to make a point.
"Come in, Maâlîk," Soong said curtly. The youth entered the chamber, but came to a stop just inside the doorway.
"You asked for me?" Maâlîk replied evenly.
Now, Soong looked up from his work, and drew a deep breath. "You have to stop challenging my authority in front of the others," Soong declared, pushing himself back from the desk.
"Can't a son disagree with his father?" Maâlîk responded innocently. "I thought we were family."
"I'm not playing that game, Maâlîk," Soong rejoined, anger creeping into his voice. "I'm willing to overlook the things you've done. But—you have to trust that what I'm doing is best for all of us." Soong's countenance softened. "You used to have faith in me."
If the old man wants to do it this way, then I'll give it to him, Maâlîk thought to himself. It's about time he hear the truth. "I was a child," Maâlîk answered. "I didn't know any better."
Maâlîk's response cut deep. But I deserved it, Soong thought to himself. I did the right thing—the necessary thing—when I sent them away, and stayed behind, but they were only children. They couldn't have understood how hard it was for me to lose them, how much I regretted having to do it. I'm not surprised that Maâlîk bears a grudge.
"I know it wasn't easy after I left—" Soong began.
"Wasn't easy?" Maâlîk snapped back. "How the hell would you know? We survived without you then, and we can do it now."
"Maâlîk," Soong said, imploring with his son, "I had to do—"
"How are the embryos?" Maâlîk cut his father off brusquely. If the old man is seeking redemption, he'll have to look elsewhere.
Soong felt the ire rising in his throat, but choked it back. "I'll be ready to incubate the first of them in a few hours."
Maâlîk glanced over Soong's workstation. "You're manipulating its DNA," he said, with a hint of question in his voice. He pointed to the genetic readouts on the first embryo.
Soong blanched. Knowing that the Augment would not respond favorably to it, he had sought to keep the work under cloak, where Maâlîk would not be aware of it, but that was now a futile endeavor: better to confront him with it, Soong figured. Give him a little reminder of his own origins.
"These base-pair sequences regulate the production of neurotransmitters and metabolizers in their brain," Soong explained, pointing to a figure on the display panel. Malik recognized the diagrams for dehydroepiandrosterone and aromatase. "If I can modify them, aggression and violent behavior will be diminished."
"You're changing its personality," Maâlîk responded accusingly, his arms folded across his chest.
"I'm correcting a defect in its genome," Soong retorted. "Genetic engineering was in its infancy when you were created," Soong continued. "They weren't able to repair all of the mistakes."
"Did you fix these…mistakes…in the rest of us?" Maâlîk hissed, maliciously.
Soong averted his gaze, unable to answer the question directly. "I didn't know how to until recently," the doctor responded.
Maâlîk's world crashed around him. He felt the adrenaline coursing to his brain, and his vision clouded around him, bile rising from his stomach, and a surge pounding in his enhanced ears. "So the rest of us are mistakes?" the Augment shouted, lashing out with a fist and shattering the surface of the display monitor. "Flawed, and imperfect? If you could, you'd send us all back to the laboratory? Why don't you tell us the truth for once?"
"Maâlîk—"
The youth had barely begun. "Is this why you want us to spend the rest of our lives in hiding? Because we're not good enough for you? Everyone else out there believes that we don't belong, that we shouldn't exist, and you secretly agree with them? Who are you to judge us?" Maâlîk pointed ferociously at the embryo under Soong's equipment. "What right do you have to tamper with their genome?"
"The same right I had to tamper with yours!" Soong flared in response.
"You don't even know that this is a defect!" Maâlîk roared, infuriated. "Maybe this is the way our creators wanted us to be! Maybe this is the natural course of our evolution, and you're holding us back!"
"And how would you know?" Soong replied, his body quacking as he sought to keep his fury in check. "You don't know what you would have been without our engineering!"
Isn't that the point? I don't know who I would have been, who I should have been! Because someone like you tampered with my genes, changed my identity, and turned me into someone I was never meant to be! Don't you get it? This—isn't—who I was meant to be! But I'm never going to be that person! You keep talking about our destiny to rule mankind, but you denied us our true destiny! My life is a cosmic lie!"
"How dare you?" Soong spat out scornfully. "I made you better, more perfect!"
How would you know?" Maâlîk's voice dropped to a spiteful hiss, and he leaned forward, his hands resting on the desk. "You're only an inferior human. As narrow-minded, as ignorant, as unsound as the rest of them. Oh, sure, you like to pretend that you're some kind of genius, but we know the truth, don't we?"
They were interrupted by the hail of the comm system. "Father." It was Pêrsîs. "You're needed on the bridge."
…
Enterprise
In chase
Thus, the senior staff was clustered in the briefing alcove.
The computer panel on the central console projected lines and pinpoints of light into the air above it, each representing various star systems and flight lanes; they were supplemented by colored symbols, highlighting a tactical display of the Orion Hegemony, located almost dead ahead.
"They'll reach the Orion border in approximately two hours," Malcolm reported, pointing to the coordinates on the overhead map.
"Soong's not even bothering to cover his tracks," Travis commented harshly, offended by the display of indifference shown to the Enterprise and its crew.
"He knows the Orions will intercept us if we follow him," Malcolm observed, momentarily distracted by the buzz of Phlox's medical scanner. Where did that come from—ah, the doctor's checking up on the captain. "They have half a dozen patrols in the area."
…
Ba'Sugh
Nearing Orion space
The heart of the Klingon vessel was a maze of dangling girders, blown bulkheads, and showering sparks, partially cloaked by a fog of smoke that refused to disperse. The sounds of metallic grinding and electrical whines punctuated the air.
"Disconnect that circuit before you power the relay," Dr. Soong commented to one of the exile crew, pointing to a secondary power conduit. "You might damage it otherwise," he added in explanation as he circumnavigated protruding chunks of metal. Maâlîk followed behind, accompanying Soong on an inspection of the battle damage.
"Our warp trail's been dispersed," Maâlîk noted sourly, surveying the readings on a shattered console. It had taken time, far too much time, for the trail of breadcrumbs to disappear. "Enterprise won't be able to follow us." The two men lapsed into momentary silence as they ducked beneath a cascade of embers. "There's something else we need to do," Maâlîk said, coming to a halt.
Soong kept walking. "Father!" Maâlîk called out harshly. The exile stood paused in a hatchway, his arms spread to close off the gap. "I need to speak with you!"
Soong came to a stop, and pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that he was not going to enjoy the ensuing conversation. Mustering his composure, he turned back to address the youth. "What is it?"
Maâlîk glanced around at the repair crew, and guided Soong into a sheltered alcove. He wanted no one to overhear them. "You've underestimated them," Maâlîk whispered harshly, shielding the alcove with his body. "Starfleet isn't going to stop until they find us."
"What do you suggest we do?" Soong hissed irately, furious at his son's obstinacy. "Turn ourselves in?"
"Before we left Deep Freeze, I brought aboard two dozen canisters of biogenic agents."
"You did what?" Soong snarled, his shock warring with disgust.
"We can modify a torpedo to carry the pathogens," Maâlîk replied, pride creeping into his voice. I have a plan, he thought to himself, if only the old man isn't too weak.
"A single torpedo would never make it thru their hull plating," Soong responded disdainfully, expecting that to end their conversation. He stepped aside, intent on walking away.
Maâlîk slid in front of Dr. Soong, cutting off his departure. "I wasn't talking about the Enterprise," the exile hissed. "We use it against the Klingons."
Soong looked at Maâlîk, puzzled.
"267 Ceti," Maâlîk explained, tossing an arm around Soong's shoulders. "It's an Orion planet, only four light-years from here. If we detonate the torpedo inside the upper atmosphere, it'll scatter the pathogen across the entire planet. Every organism on the surface will be dead within days." Soong said nothing, but pursed his lips, glaring at the youth. "When the Orions hear that humans have decimated their colony, they'll launch a counterstrike. And we'll have a clean route for escape." Or to turn around and seize control of a weakened Earth.
Arik Soong gritted his teeth. "What you're proposing is mass murder."
"There is no other choice!" the youth's voice rose with conviction. "How long will it be before Starfleet turns to the Orions themselves for help in finding us? This is the only way to guarantee our survival!"
Soong choked down his fury, exercising every iota of strength to maintain his composure. "Go back to the bridge!" he whispered furiously, intent on ending the conversation.
Maâlîk wasn't done. "What happened to you in prison?" he replied, matching Soong's anger with equanimity. "You're not the man who raised us. The man who told us that our lives must be preserved, that human lives are nothing compared to ours. That man was willing to do whatever was necessary to ensure our survival. You're—nothing more than a genetic traitor."
Soong's body shook as he bit back his full response. "Return to your station," he growled.
Maâlîk gave the doctor one last accusatory glance, and departed, leaving Soong to contemplate his next move.
…
Enterprise
In chase
The Enterprise was terse with anticipation, the crew awaiting its confrontation with the Augments. The vessel's rebuilt warp core pulsed in frenetic excitement, and the engineering crew pushed the powerful engines to their outer limits, channeling the energy of the matter-antimatter reaction into the thrust that shot them thru subspace. With a top speed that exceeded the Ba'Sugh's, it was only a matter of time before the Enterprise overtook the Bird-of-Prey, and the crew watched with bated breath as the stellar distances faded behind them.
Even Commander Reed was not immune; when the lift doors whooshed open, she jolted up from the command chair. "I wasn't aware that you were on duty," he said, addressing the newly-arrived Captain Archer.
"I'm not," Archer responded wryly. "What's our status?"
"Approaching the Orion border."
Archer crossed the bridge to his command chair, and pushed the comm button on the arm. "Bridge to engineering," he said as he sat down. "Are we ready?"
Smitty's voice responded promptly. "We're good to go," he reported. "All systems are functionally normally. Except for the food processors."
"Understood," Archer replied, closing the comm channel. He glanced behind him; Malcolm, having moved to tactical, sat at the edge of his chair. "Tactical alert," the captain ordered.
Archer paused for a second, and then gave his command. "Take us across the border, Travis. Warp four."
…
Ba'Sugh
Nearing 267 Ceti
Within the closed confines of the Klingon ship, heat permeated every living cell, both Augmented and non-Augmented. Laser torches, electrical arches, and old-fashioned soldering irons radiated intensity, and the ventilation systems, never a priority for Klingon engineering, labored mightily to cleanse the air of the acrid stench of overheated metal, burning plasma, and unwashed bodies.
With the heat and the odor, tempers flared, and it was a tribute to the discipline of the Augment crew that no fights broke out as they toiled to repair the Ba'Sugh. Their enhanced auditory senses were assaulted by the constant whine of machinery, and the taste of ashes snuck in with every breath of air, but the crew continued working at a pace only they could achieve.
Except for Maâlîk.
Maâlîk was working on a different project.
"I don't have a lot of time," Pêrsîs told the Augment leader, as she stepped into the Klingon captain's quarters. Like usual, the red lights were dim, barely enough to highlight the harsh design of the room. Shadows danced around, as the coursing flows of half-broken conduits refused to stabilize. "The aft launcher's still offline, and Father wants me to—"
"You won't have to answer to him any longer," Maâlîk cut in roughly. He sat on the master bed, the only piece of furniture in the room; the white fur blanket gave an aura of power in the midst of the overpowering weight of Klingon aesthetics. "I'm taking command," Maâlîk with understated aplomb.
"You can't," Pêrsîs replied softly.
"I've already spoken with everyone on the bridge. They're behind me, but I need to know where you stand." Maâlîk stood up, bringing himself eye-to-eye with Pêrsîs. "You helped me before."
"That was different." At the beginning of their grand mission, she hadn't hesitated to help Maâlîk overthrow and replace Raâkîn; indeed, she was the one who put Malik up to it, whispering in his ear, convincing him that he alone was their rightful leader, maneuvering Maâlîk into his act of fratricide. "This is our Father." Pêrsîs looked at Maâlîk, pleading with her eyes.
Maâlîk sighed softly. "He may have raised us, but that doesn't make him our father. It's not his blood that flows in our veins, or his DNA that makes us who we are. He's not one of us—he'll never be one of us. Pêrsîs, look at me." Malik paused. "He's a mere human, and whatever you think of him, that's not going to change."
"Don't do this to him." Despite Pêrsîs' scheming among the Augments, her loyalty to Arik Soong was unwavering, and Maâlîk's condemnation of the doctor hurt her deeply.
"How is this any different than removing Raâkîn?" Malik retorted. "Raâkîn tried to hold us back, keep us from our destiny. It was your idea to kill Raâkîn, and he was even my blood brother! Soong is nothing compared to that!"
"He—is—our—Father!" Pêrsîs hissed fiercely.
"He's an inferior baseline! Didn't Soong himself teach us that we do not take orders from our lessers?" Maâlîk halted for a moment to regain his composure. "He's given me no choice," the youth stated forcefully. "I have a plan to protect us from Starfleet and the Klingons, and he won't even consider it. He's jeopardizing our survival."
"Our Father knows what he's doing," Pêrsîs responded, her voice quaking as she sought to reassure herself. "He's protecting us."
"Do you know what he's doing with the other embryos?" Maâlîk shifted to another argument, intent on pressing his point home. He could tell that Pêrsîs was wavering. "He's altering their genome. Not to make them stronger—he's making them weak and docile, stripping them of the things that make us better. They'll be unable to defend themselves, subject to the cruel mercies of ordinary humans. He's betraying them, before they've even been born."
"That's not true," Pêrsîs whispered haltingly. Can this be true? Has our Father betrayed our brethren? After all he's done for us, can't we trust him?
Maâlîk watched as the doubt washed over Persis' face. "Go to his lab, talk to him yourself," he gently suggested. If he pushed too hard, he might lose Persis, but it was time to seal the pact. "I know how much he means to you—I have feelings for him, too. He'll be treated with respect." Pêrsîs closed her eyes in pain. "You have my word," Maâlîk promised. "Are you with me?"