Chapter-04

[ - Lt. Marla McGivers, Personal Log—Stardate 2258. 25:It's been 22 days since I introduced myself to Khan Noonien Singh—now called John Harrison. It's hard to believe that such a beautiful looking man, so slender and cool in his demeanor, once ruled a quarter of the planet. But then, he did have a charisma about him that put into perspective the accounts that he was loved as much as he was feared. It would be difficult not to fall into his orbit.

I haven't seen him at all since that first meeting, but I have heard from Commander Lassiter all about his progress. Admiral Marcus decided that the skill most needed by Starfleet was that of weapon specialist. I hear the admiral's daughter is in that field, but too few people are making any innovations in that regard. Khan—I mean, John Harrison—gladly volunteered his services. Marcus seemed skeptical, but when I reminded him of the accomplishments during the Eugenics Wars, he agreed. He immediately began to educate Harrison in all technology currently available to us. He excelled in concepts that have only been discovered in the past century, things that I never could understand properly while a cadet at the academy. I've never seen a Vulcan learn anything so quickly and so well.

I only hear these things through Lassiter, who tells me as much as I want to know and as much as I'm allowed to know. Meanwhile, they seem determined to occupy me with busy work, like examining the scavenged computer of the Botany Bay, which is all that's left of the ship. Marcus ordered it destroyed as a derelict vessel without even consulting me about its historical value. Even I've been sworn to secrecy, which makes this entire situation feel more covert than it needs to be.

I've asked repeatedly for the opportunity to interview John Harrison, to learn from him first-hand about the 20th Century and to hear his side of the historical texts. Lassiter said that Marcus has no problem with me interviewing Harrison, but it seems everyone is busy these days except for me…-]

Another week passed since her log entry, and there was no word from Lassiter or Marcus regarding the interview. She was past frustrated and had moved on to angry. They asked her to be in this program, not the other way around.

Wherever Marcus had assigned Khan to work, it was locked by a security code in the computer system. She knew of no other way to find Khan than at his personal quarters. It was audacious, maybe even rude, but she was willing to take the risk. Even if Khan sent her away, she hoped to at least catch another glimpse of him. It was difficult to stay away.

When she sounded the annunciator at his door, her heart thrummed in her ears with each second that passed by. Her palm already felt sweaty around the PADD that was clutched at her side. A minute that seemed like an hour passed and her anxious mind told her to walk away.

Sucking in a breath, she pivoted on her heel to make a quick escape. She had barely taken one step when she collided with something solid and immovable. The air was knocked out of her lungs, the PADD from her hands. But she didn't hear it hit the floor. Lifting her eyes, she was met with vivid green eyes that seemed to pin her where she stood.

"Lieutenant McGivers," the voice vibrated right through her.

She was momentarily stunned, but realizing how stupidly she must have been staring, she moved backward in an attempt to compose herself. "I came to—Well, I was hoping— " As if her stammering wasn't bad enough, her back hit the closed door to his quarters. She then noticed why her PADD never hit the ground when she dropped it. He caught it.

Though his striking eyes never left her, he showed no response to her bumbling. He looked so different than when they first met. Black hair, which had been regal in its previous style, was now cropped short and militaristic. Though his shoulders were still strong with displayed pride, they were now squared by a charcoal-colored Starfleet uniform that hugged his long neck. Were it not for those eyes and his proud demeanor, he would have blended in with every other human man in Starfleet. She felt a heaviness in her chest at the very idea.

"Admiral Marcus granted me permission to interview you," she found her voice at last. "To learn more about when and where you come from."

"You already know when and where I come from," he smirked sardonically. "Your history books are quite informative on the subject."

His gaze finally pulled away from her, a long arm reaching around her to hit the button on the console beside the door. She felt it slide open at her back, and though she knew this was where she was expected to move, she didn't. She was obstructing his way and it terrified her in a magnificent way.

"I want to hear it in your words," she insisted. "Who you really were." She could not help her eyes as they glanced to the Starfleet insignia that gleamed so offensively on his chest, where it didn't belong.

He only seemed to weigh her words long enough to offer back her PADD. "You may come inside."

It was permission, not courtesy. Hugging the PADD, she stepped to the side and out of his way. He passed her to enter the room first, the lights fading on inside. When she followed, the door hissed shut, closing her in with him. Alone.

But he showed no interest in his guest as he deposited his own PADD onto the desk, which had gained quite a collection of disks and papers since she had last seen it. His back was to her while she lingered at the door, not daring to step in further without his consent. She wasn't too shy, though, to follow his every move with her eyes.

Even his casual steps in the comfort of his own room had such precision to them, such perfection. He faced away from her, but she could see his reflection in a nearby mirror that clung to the wall. He was unfastening the front of his uniform, a look of utter disdain touching his mouth as he pulled it free from his throat. It was obvious that he knew as well as she did that he was not meant to wear a uniform.

"I don't know if you're going to like living in our time…."she commented softly, the pity unintentionally seeping into her words.

He looked over his shoulder at her, the sharpness of his cheekbone even more apparent against the metallic wall behind him. The severity she often saw in his eyes had softened just for a moment. She was sure he was about to speak, but he faced his profile to her and proceeded to peel the stiff coat from his shoulders. He was still wearing the snug black undershirt, but she could see his sinewy muscles as they moved beneath the fabric.

"Ask your questions." He was direct.

"To be honest," she was nervous now. "I didn't have any questions prepared…."

He quirked a brow at her, and after a beat, silently gestured to an empty chair, which sat near the desk. As if on command, she quickly scurried into the seat and laid the PADD in her lap. He tossed his uniform's coat over the chair behind the desk, but he didn't sit.

"Then you want to hear how I unified nations," he began slowly, his voice low, "how I led campaigns to seize power. How we brought order to a world consumed in chaos and ruled for three peaceful and prosperous years?" His cool voice gradually gained a strained fervor, his features hardening. "Only to be driven out by the very people who had begged me to lead them and purge them of the things that had been poisoning mankind?"

The muscle in his jaw jumped with a boiling rage, but his eyes told of deep betrayal. She had studied the history of those times over and over. It happed almost 300 years ago, but it wasn't until now she remembered that it was hardly a month for him.

"No…" she said quietly. "Those are all the things I already know. I want to know… your favorite book. What you did before the wars, what inspires you, things you're proud of, things you regret…"

She was going beneath the surface where she had no right to pry. But the truth was, she was desperately curious. This was an opportunity that no one ever could have dreamt of. She didn't know what to expect from him, whether he would oblige, throw her out on her ass, beat her to a pulp—really, she didn't know. But she would have hated herself if she never asked.

He watched her, the usual harshness of his features nonexistent. She might have even thought it was a look of wonder on his face. Finally, he moved around the desk with his slow, defined steps, and perched himself on the corner of it, his dark frame hovering over her.

"I would much rather hear about you," his tone was suddenly lighter, kinder.

"Me?" she couldn't help but laugh at the idea. "I'm nobody."

"Oh, I'd beg to differ…" a smile touched the edge of his mouth. "I sense something quite extraordinary about you. Tell me about your passions. There is surely another side to you than your affinity for relics like me."

"You're hardly a relic…" she dipped her gaze from him, blushing like a 12 year old. "I like to paint. I haven't had much of a chance to since I graduated from the Academy, but it's the only way I know how to express myself completely." She couldn't look at him now, it was too embarrassing. "I'm so sorry, it's not interesting at all. Not compared to… to the things you've done or seen."

"An artist," his voice seemed to purr like the lowest chord of a bass cello. "You underestimate your value. Creativity for its own sake was a rarity in the world of battles and blood that I was accustomed to. And from what I have seen of your Starfleet, it isn't so different here. The farther into the coldness of space, the greater the need for art. I would like to see a sample of your work and through it perhaps I could see the woman beneath the uniform."

Something strange was happening in her chest. It felt as though her heart was about to break out of her ribcage and fly away like some dingy springtime bird. Oh, she felt stupid. With a burst of courage, she finally lifted her eyes to him. He was closer than she expected, leaning over her from his seat atop the desk. In spite of such a lean body, he seemed so firm. Fear suddenly pulled within her.

"I should go," the words came out rapidly and without her approval.

"Will you come again?" he still hovered close.

"…Do you want me to?"

"I look forward to nothing else. No matter the hour, you're welcome here."

"How will I know when you're here?"

"Wait for me if I'm not."

He expected everyone to wait on him, she knew this. And yet, she was more than happy to oblige. This was an invitation she could not refuse.