Khan had been the last go to into cryosleep, just after making sure the tubes had locked safely around each and every member of his family. Then, he had launched the Botany Bay into the uncertainty of space. He had no idea whether there even was another planet besides Earth with life-sustaining conditions or if the ship had a realistic chance of getting away from the Sol system before an asteroid destroyed it. But so far they had at least made it out of Earth's atmosphere. He stared at the blue planet through the vessel's windows.
The war was over... and lost. He knew that he and the last of his people had been condemned to death, but unlike other augments, he had not made the mistake of waiting and therefore giving the humans the opportunity to capture them. He had recognized upcoming defeat in the break-down of the other augment states and in the growing armies of the human uprising. When he couldn't hold onto his capital, he had made a strategic retreat. He had been well aware that there was no place on Earth left for them to go so he had opted for the only road still available to them.
The Botany Bay was an experimental space-exploring vessel built as part of an international project that had once been a last ditch effort at maintaining the peace. The good intentions behind the idea had proved to be an illusion, as war had soon raged, fueled by the worldwide augment take-over. The ship that had never been launched, despite her being fully-functional, and had been all but forgotten in the face of more pressing concerns. Commandeering her had been sheer simplicity. Earth had never been their home. Not truly. Despite the many tragedies of their common past, Khan bore humanity no ill will but hoped never to encounter them again.
Perhaps their ship would stumble upon an uninhabited planet they could finally call their own.
# # #
The face that leaned over his prone and still numb body was human and belonged to a man in his sixties. Steely blue eyes studied him shrewdly. Needles and pins began to awake in his limbs, as he slowly returned to full function.
"Khan Noonien Singh," said the man in a voice clearly accustomed to giving orders. "Welcome to the twenty-third century!"
# # #
Pain licked at his left arm, sharp tendrils wrapping themselves around bone and muscle and spreading further into his body. It evoked sense memories going back to his childhood, to the experiments performed on him in order to hone his remastered DNA to perfection. He shoved aside both the recollections and his current physical suffering. He knew Marcus was watching, waiting for his doctors' report on the wonders of his metabolism, and refused to give the head of the mixed human and alien not quite military force named Starfleet the satisfaction of seeing him distressed.
His body shook from the impact of a rather large needle inserted into his neck. He ignored the medics fussing over him, his gaze fixed upon the far wall. He didn't have the luxury of resisting. His people were beyond his reach, at the unreliable mercy of a man who wanted to exploit him the same way those who had manufactured him in a test-tube had intended to three hundred years ago. Anger and self-loathing suffused him. He had saved his family from one captivity and summary execution only to lead them straight into another trap.
Their ship had docked too late. Space itself was now contaminated by those for whom they would never be more than a living tool built to last, a self-replenishing resource primed for use. It was of no import. Humans were no longer his concern, their new, high-tech world holding no appeal to him. He would do everything Marcus asked of him so he could keep his remaining crew alive and bide his time until he found them and then he would rip the admiral's head off his shoulders, before leaving this cursed blue planet once and for all.
# # #
A gentle, ocean-scented breeze scented breeze ruffled his hair, as he gazed down upon San Francisco. The Vengeance's engines had been terminally crippled and the bulk of the ship had missed Starfleet HQ and hit the city in its heart. The rumble of destruction and anguish below reached his sensitive ears. Khan stifled the swan song of regret rising in him. He drowned it in the crimson hatred towards his family's murders. His journey had come to an end. He knew that every step he would take from now on was in the general direction of death, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He would soon be with his people again. That was all that mattered.
# # #
Khan awoke in pitch darkness. It made little difference to him. He saw better with the lights on, but no night, no matter how black, bothered him. The sleep, the warm shower and the meal had done him a world of good. His muscles had lost their stiffness and his reflexes were almost fully restored. He slipped out of the bed and stretched, taking a moment to bask in the rare feeling of wellness. He carefully weighed his options, as he ordered himself more food from the replicator. His body burnt fuel at the same high rate his metabolism functioned at and it would be a while, until the the effects of the months of malnutrition could be successfully erased. Even so, his strength was returning in doves.
The year he had spent with complete access to just about every technical database in the Federation, in order to supply Marcus with the weapons he yearned for, had provided him with the opportunity to learn to pilot the ships of various civilizations in the union. However, he still wasn't an engineer and if the ship's main power hadn't come back online, there was nothing to he could do about it. From Carol Marcus' reaction to the news, he had divined that a ship on auxiliary power had little chance of surviving a trip through the unchartered Badlands.
He slinked through the vessel that was quiet like a tomb and towards the engine room. The main power was indeed still down. Not letting the news affect him, he moved away, wheels already turning in his mind, as he pondered a back-up plan. He slipped into the infirmary on his way. Carol Marcus was still asleep, curled under her blanket on the biobed. She looked so small, vulnerable and infinitely breakable, though her heartbeat came through loud and strong in the silence of the room. Obviously the anti-concussion medicine had taken full effect and she was now resting fitfully.
Sun Tzu had said that if you knew your enemies and knew yourself, you would not be imperiled in a hundred battles. Khan had followed that ancient wisdom in the many wars he had fought and was well aware of his one weakness: kindness, not his own, but being shown it. Compassion was the last thing he had expected to see in the eyes of Marcus' daughter, especially after what had happened on the Vengeance, but it had been there and she had risked her life and career to rescue him from Section 31. Something tight coiled in his gut. His arm reached over, before he could summon the will to stop himself, and he gingerly pulled a corner of the blanket over her shoulder. She shifted slightly but did not wake up.
Frowning at himself, he backtracked and left the medbay as quietly as he had come in. He could not let his one blind spot deter him from recovering his family. They were everything he had in this world, the only ones to whom he owned loyalty and for them he would burn the galaxy to ashes and crush anyone who got in his way. Carol Marcus' integrity was a strategical advantage he could use in his quest. He returned to the living quarters, mulling the situation over, and replicated himself a coat.
According to the ship's computer, they planet they were on was Minshara-class so he could safely exit the vessel. The outside world did not look welcoming at all, but comfort had never been a priority of his. They were in a narrow, sand-covered valley surrounded by barren rock formations profiled against chestnut-colored skies. The air was rarefied, but that was no burden to his lung capacity. He climbed on the sharp edge of a stone and let his gaze wander over a plain that looked completely devoid of vegetation.
There was a certain solemness to the bare wilderness around him, one that he found calming. A memory of him giving a speech to a packed square intruded onto his thoughts and he shook his head to dispel it. The prince with the power over millions had been in another life. He needed to focus on the present. He lifted his eyes to the sky above. From what he had gathered from the coordinates inserted into the ship's navigational system, they were somewhere near the border with Cardassia, a decaying old galactic power, with which the Federation had had so far limited contact. Khan suspected they were keeping their distance, preferring to watch the evolution of the cold war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire from a safe distance.
If they managed to get the ship to one of the frontier colonies that, according to Starfleet Intelligence, were neglected by the central government, they could exchange the numerous medical supplies aboard for repairs. In the meantime, he would obtain the possible location of his crew from Carol Marcus. With the vessel under his control, he could slip back into Federation territory and retrieve them. Hope bloomed into his chest and he could almost taste the joy of being with them again. Not yet. They were still far away, still in the hands of the enemy.
Perhaps even now Cartwright took one of them out of the safety of the cryotube and infected them with a horrible alien disease, while they were trapped within their own body, just as he had been, completely helpless. He squeezed his hands into fists, irrationally regretting his freedom, if it meant that a member of his family had to suffer in his stead. Rage rose within him with enough strength to render him dizzy and he stared down at his hands, imagining what they would do to anyone who had dared touch his family.
Movement behind him disturbed him from his marauding thoughts and he whirled around to see Carol Marcus stand by the ship, looking at him with a new determination etched onto her features.
# # #
The sleep had done more than rid of the symptoms of her recent concussion. It had also brought all of her doubts were back. Though the recent revelations still haunted her, Khan's recovery had served as a bitter reminder of what he was capable of. The last thing she wanted was to be in some way responsible for him causing more destruction and death. He feared what he might do, if he were to take this ship back into Federation territory and wage a path of fire and blood in his quest to retrieve his people.
Given the fruits of her own independent research, she was inclined to believe his claims of not planning on any eugenic cleansing, once he recovered his crew. So her concern revolved around how he would go about achieving that goal. She guessed she would not like that particular answer. It occurred to her that she could sabotage the warp engine, stranding them on this planet. He would figure it out instantly and kill her for it, but at least he would not make any other victims. She was not keen on dying so soon but still felt responsible for his future actions, since she had been the one to set him free. At the same time, her conscience hackled at her over the fate of the seventy-two augments still in the hands of Section 31. She shuddered to think of the future awaiting them.
There was nothing clear-cut about her choice. Was she to be guilty of the deaths of thousands or the slow one of seventy-two?
TBC