Disturbing scenes, violence and accidental domestic child abuse towards the end. Sorry, it just kind of…happened. But…hey…there's fluff. That makes it okay…ish. Right?
Chapter 17
"You're not being fair!" Little Wolf complained. "I'm my tuuuurn!"
Khan's eyes blazed irritably, "For the twelfth and final time: You. Are. Not. Steering. The. Ship!"
Even Kirk, with all his idiocy, had the intelligence to know when to hold his tongue—particularly if Khan's face radiated danger as it did now.
Little Wolf was not Kirk.
"But you've been driving all day! I want to try!"
"No," Khan dead panned. He inhaled slowly to cool his burning nerves.
"But—"
"There is no discussion. You are the child; I am the parent. There is no negotiation, no changing of the mind. My answer is final."
"Oh yeah?" Little Wolf glared at him, eyes shimmering. "You actually have to be there to be a parent!"
Khan's mouth dropped open in surprise. He had complete control over every single one of his senses at all times, but he couldn't make himself move. Frozen, he watched as Little Wolf ran from the room. Paralyzed, he watched numbly as the door to the cockpit swished closed.
But it wasn't my fault, the thought comes unbidden. I would have been there.
If I had known.
If Marcus hadn't…
It wasn't Khan's fault. It wasn't his fault he had missed half her life—and what did steering the ship even had to do with it? It was a mechanical issue, not a domestic one. He would have been there—he would! He was just…
Trapped.
In a cell, thousands of miles below the surface of the planet.
Whipped.
Tortured.
And so, so alone. Above him, his family—the "royal hostages" as Marcus had dubbed them. The "guests of honor"!—stood suspended in the air. If Khan gave even one miscalculated move—just one—Marcus would gladly starting frying their life supports.
One…by…one.
His cold, lifeless, grey eyes would watch mercilessly as they thawed and clawed at their doors for air while they suffocated slowly on the fluids that had faithfully preserved their lives up until that exact moment.
And Khan would still have had to bend over backwards in order to please the Admiral…
Lest even more of his already dwindling family were to perish as well...because of his rebellion. Because of Khan's actions.
...Eighty five.
That's how many people he had at the beginning of his trip. Eighty five functioning cryotubes. Eighty five hearts and lives suspended in frozen animation, waiting, patiently, to be reawaken into a kinder, more accepting world.
Only seventy two now remained.
Thirteen members of his already endangered species had been murdered as Marcus trained him cruelly to obey his commands without question.
And she was upset he wasn't in her life? He placed her in her mother's womb and refrained from snapping her neck all those times she played her infuriatingly childish pranks on him. He had survived long enough to meet her—let alone grow to care for her like one of his own…even before he learned of their blood connection. And she was upset he hadn't shown up sooner?
Let her pout.
Let her cry, scream, and whine until she grew blue in the face.
Khan had nothing to apologize for...But that didn't mean he didn't feel guilty. He should have been there; yes, that much was true. He should have been—and Marcus robbed him of that time.
Robbed him of his sanity. His family.
He didn't even know who to mourn or if any of them even remained alive today. There were Thirty torpedoes in one secure facility three days from their current location and forty two at a section 31 base on Earth. According to the files, all of those torpedoes had been created by John Harrison—an alias Marcus had forced him to use. So, logically…it was them.
It had to be.
Right?
Right.
Yet…he still had a job to do. Marcus would never apologize to Khan. Marcus would support his actions even with his dying breaths. For a moment, Khan imagined his hands curling tightly around the Admiral's frail skull. He imagined himself slowly applying more and more pressure until…yes. That would be a fitting end for the mouse who dared to mock the tiger.
But, Khan was not Marcus—of that much he was sure. Marcus would never apologize or make reparations…but Khan could. You know, if he wanted to.
"Computer." Khan's silky voice commanded quietly as he stood from his chair. "Initiate autopilot. Notify me of any ships that appear on the radar."
He left the room without bothering to confirm the order.
The ship was like a ghost town. The hallways lay bare and empty. All sounds, no matter how silent, echoed painfully throughout the corridors. Where was everybody? Oh, what did it matter where everyone was? He was not looking for 'everyone' he was looking for Little Wolf!
So…where was she?
She wouldn't have gone to the cafeteria—or the gym. Both spaces were too large, too revealing. Her dorm room, too, was not an option—it was too obvious a place to hide. She would have gone somewhere small. A tiny, tightly enclosed space where she could hide and watch his movements unobserved. But how far would she have gone…?
Oh.
That was right. Of course, she was there!
What was he thinking? It was obvious! So simple! Even a child could have figured it out! Even though…technically…a child did…figure…it…out…eh, doesn't matter. Who cares? He spins on his feet and abruptly rips the air grate off of the wall.
Little Wolf yelps and scrambles backward in surprise. Khan's iron-like grip wraps around her frail, easily breakable wrist. He snatches her instantly out of the small, silver tunnel she had somehow squirmed her way into and hugs her tightly to his chest. She punches him irritably and pummels him with her miniature fists but he doesn't feel the pain. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, her blows grow weaker and weaker as her energy seeps out of her. Defeated, she leans against his chest and listens to his steadily beating heart.
"You were right," Khan murmurs when she is finally still. He backs up against a wall and slides into a sitting position. "I should have been there for you."
"But you weren't." A sad, tired whisper. Tiny, salted tears worm down her checks. Khan lifts a hand and wipes on away.
"No, I wasn't," he agreed softly. "I was not there. I was not there for your birth," He draws in a shuddering breath, "Or your first words, first steps…I wasn't there to save your people—The People—from the Invaders…from Starfleet. I didn't save you when they hurt you over and over again for trying to warn the other villages of the dangers the Invaders posed to them…but I would have wanted to be. Had I known. Had I been able to be there, I would have been. Little Wolf—"
"Go away." Her voice had lost its fight.
"No," his voice was calm. Tender. "No, I'm never going away again. I've missed your entire life thus far," he buried his nose and mouth into her hair, "and I refuse to miss another second of it." Khan paused to reign in his emotions as well as to allow her time to process his words. "Little Wolf," his voice was a quiet purr, "I'm not going anywhere. Never again."
"Why did you go away the first time?" Her voice was so quiet, the average human ear would have never even processed it. He was far better than average.
"I'll tell you…one day. When you're older."
Maybe, he thinks. Hopefully, by then, you'd have forgotten this conversation.
He didn't want to watch her admiration of him die out of her eyes like a candle left carelessly outside before a tornado decides to strike.
Flickering.
Fading.
Light.
Darkness.
…Then gone completely. Never to return. Never to rekindle.
Destroyed. Forever.
"When I'm old like you?" Her hands fisted lightly in his shirt.
He chuckled and Little Wolf smiled at his booming laugh echoed in his chest and vibrated out of his throat, tickling her ear.
"I'm not old." He straightened his smirked down at her; she still didn't look at him.
"Yes you are." She said simply, "but don't worry: I won't tell anyone."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
They were quiet for a while.
"Can I drive the ship now?" She asked.
"Don't make me shoot you out of the airlock." Khan said without missing a beat.
"Okay." Little Wolf thought for a minute and then scrunched up her nose as she thought.
Quiet once more.
"What's an airlock?"
Khan sighed.
…
Silver Moon is flying the ship so that he can rest.
He lies in his bed staring up at the ceiling, his gaze going glassy. Little Wolf lies with her head resting lightly over his heart, her arm thrown carelessly over his chest, rising and falling slowly as he breathes in and out. He tilts his head carefully to glance at her and smirks before lying his back, his head flat against the stiff pillow once more. His eyes close. Breathing evens.
In and out.
In.
And…
Out.
…
It's dark and cold. It's always cold. He exhales and his breath freezes into a pale, white mist. No matter. His body was warmer than that of the average human. It may not be comfortable, but he would survive.
He was made to survive.
"Go on," Marcus's finger stabs sharply into his chest. "Draw up the plans."
"No," Khan had growled dangerously.
Biological warfare. That was what Marcus had wanted.
Biological.
Weapons.
The coward. True war—noble war—was fought with fists and swords and weapons. Flesh and blood versus real, living enemies. Not chemicals. Not viruses—that was the cowards' way out. A chemical or virus didn't differentiate between foe or mere child—it destroyed everything. It contaminated both land and opponent, poisoning all within its path as it caused a slow and agonizing demise.
No.
He would not be the creater of such a weapon. He may have been a murderer, but even he had invisible moral lines that he vowed not to cross.
"Fine, John." Marcus's eyes gleamed with joy as he took a step back. A clear, impregnable barrier stabbed down between the men in the hallway, trapping Khan in a dead end. "You were sufficiently warned when I had your ass woken up. Let's see…which one."
"No," Khan whispered as the freezing cold realization stole his breath. Icy fingers of dread sliced down his spine. "No!"
The cryotubes lowered in slow motion and time stretched out like candy in a taffy puller.
"This one?" Marcus hit one tube and it swung wildly from side to side, jostling its frozen cargo, but the life support—thank God!—remained undamaged. Marcus slapped another. This one swung free and smashed onto the ground, it's glass cracking slightly but not breaking.
"Stop! Please!" Khan begged. "STOP!"
Marcus turned to spare Khan a glance over his shoulder. His facial features mirrored an expression of pity though his eyes screamed triumphantly like a cat catching its first true prey.
"Oh, Khan." Marcus tutted with fake sympathy. "You knew this was going to happen all along. It was inevitable." His fingers stretched out tapping the power switch and flipping it 'OFF'. It's light flickered red frantically before dulling. Inside the fluids melted rapidly.
"STOP! PLEASE! STOP! I'll DO IT! JUST STOP!"
The person inside defrosted, their mouth opening in a gurgling scream. The face—he couldn't see the face! Couldn't hear the yells that he knew were escaping from the warming body as it choked on the icy liquid inside its sleek, silver coffin.
"MARCUS STOP— !"
…
Khan jerked awake, his fist slamming hard into the nearest thing to him.
A sharp snap sounded and Little Wolf shrieked in agony. Horrified, Khan looked down at the small body next to him as it screamed and screamed, its voice unbroken and unending. He had just broken her spine.
Sorry. I'm SO sorry about that last bit (it freaked me out and I'm the one that wrote it), but there's been a bit too much fluff and I had to implement a plot device/conflict somehow besides Khan vs himself and Marcus/Star Fleet…and a cliff hanger. I missed doing those. Don't worry, will update soon (probably tomorrow) instead of waiting FOREVER again.