A/N: Greetings. I figure I'd let Khan headline this chapter a bit with a healthy dose of introspection. Standard disclaimer applies.
Chapter 5: Tomb Raider
The hall was quiet, and so too were his footfalls sinking into the industrial and high traffic carpet. Had this been a simple exercise in hide-seek-and-destroy, he might have gleaned a bit of enjoyment out of his covert objective. But this was not a task that elected amusement. Rather it inspired vexation at the rampart disrespect that had been offered he and his kind. Starfleet really was so terribly full of itself—especially that cadaver Marcus. His death was not satisfying. Not at all. Really it served more of a distraction in retrospect, a tangent en route to the true revenge that would be far more fulfilling. Killing the hybrid Spock would hardly be enough. No, that emotionally stunted mutt had to suffer. And suffer he would when the time finally came.
Stepping into a shallow alcove just before the monitored area of the first surveillance camera, Khan allowed himself one short breath before activating his home-brewed feed jammer. A weak clipped burst of electromagnetic distortion to interfere with the camera for a few brief seconds-just enough to have him pass undetected while the little machine blinked the interference out of its mechanical eye. Tucking out of sight to the next alcove Khan would pause, waiting. No alarms were raising, no weapons were discharging. So far so good—the next camera was just ahead. Again he discharged his jammer, disrupting the surveillance feed and permitting the recently blonde interloper to continue through the empty halls. The next waypoint, the next camera. Apply jammer, move to the next spot. This same formula repeated itself over and over all the way down the halls and various corridors until Khan was back in familiar territory…the same hall he had passed through on his original departure from the building. There was a bit of a catch this time however…a night patrol was present. For that, the dull eyed-super-human had to resist rolling his augmented orbs. A single sentry it was, a man that couldn't have been out of his twenties. Khan watched his face from behind a decorative planter as the sentry came down the hall. He looked bored given his near meandering gait and expression that sung inattentiveness. It was in that moment the predator in Khan had to resist. It would have been nothing to reach out and subdue that man…watch terror dance across his countenance before the light finally receded from his eyes.
Khan's heart quickened at the thought. Like the creature Lestat* waiting in the wings to snare an unsuspecting youth, conquering it in violent thirst-quenching appraisal, the centuries old warlord felt the damning compulsion to end the sentry's life. But Khan wasn't one for senseless killing. Every person slain by his hand directly or by proxy was done so with discrimination and precision. Therefore despite the bloodlust that swam in him, he knew without having to remind himself that the sentry was supposed to live. That man alone did not represent the whole of Starfleet, though he was certainly a member of the very organization that turned the tattered remains of Khan's life into a pillar of misery, hatred and loneliness. The true face of Starfleet-for all Khan knew at the moment-was halfway across the galaxy…along with his dead-Vulcan-walking first officer. From his vantage point behind the planters, Khan watched the sentry continue on his patrol till near out of sight, failing his job impressively given his inscrutable lack of awareness. Yes, how disrespectful Starfleet had been…to have such an oblivious cur stand watch over the most powerful human beings the world had ever known. Did they not deserve more than that?
The final surveillance camera was jammed.
…And he only had a few additional seconds before said camera completed its panning circuit and recorded him hacking the lock on the tomb of his people. He though would not be caught. As planned the thick door slid open just barely, the darkness within inviting him like an old friend. Once inside with the door closed carefully behind him, Khan could only shake his head. It was not often one broke back into the prison they were only so lucky to slither out from in the first place. His hand reached for the panel, activating the lights in the storage area. Before him seventy-two cryotubes lay on their tables secured in place by black straps and silvery fasteners. The seventy-third stood open…left exactly has it had been at the moment of his reawakening, an observation that had Khan stiflingly a disbelieving titter. No one had checked; no one had remotely suspected anything was wrong. The whole situation was bordering on ridiculous. Stepping farther into the chamber, he came to the first of the cryotubes and peer inside its frosted interior. Standing there for a long while, his chest heaved in a heavy but mostly soundless sigh. This would have been the first time he had looked upon his people since concealing them in the torpedoes he had designed for that warmonger in Admiral's clothing.
A hand reached out to the side of the cryotube…to steady its owner. The memories and the pain that came with them flooded back with a force strong enough to shake the darkly brooding soldier. Only thrice his life had Khan Noonien Singh felt so utterly powerless, so lacking in control of his own destiny. The first when he was forced to self-banish himself from Earth along with his brethren at the turn of the millennium, condemned to eternal sleep drifting frozen among the stars. The second was when Marcus had woken him and threatened his exceedingly vulnerable people in return for utter subservience. The final time was onboard the Vengeance. At the end of that trial, everything had been in his favor. He had the more capable ship, his revenge on Marcus, and those who opposed him on the receiving end of a powerful volley of advanced and destructive weaponry. But Spock…oh that Spock had done to him what Marcus could not.
Bring him to his knees.
Khan would squeeze his eyes shut so tightly the muscles strained. It was a thick and braided scar that the half-breed had left on him. In truth his crew had never been endangered but for many soul decimating hours-days-Spock as well as a myriad of others had allowed him to believe that such a horror was his reality. This idea clung to him, permeated him, kept coming back to haunt him. He would never forget that feeling, and the feelings that followed. For a moment he could scarcely fathom how one lowly creature could inspire him to such madness. The same hand that had reached out to the cryotube now drug affectionately over it. He had shaken Starfleet so badly that during his arraignment, they felt it necessary to medicate him throughout the process and subsequent sentencing. For all of his endurance and inherent resistances, they had made sure to keep him in a draining fog, so much so that it barely registered to him they would be returning him to stasis. One thread of information however had managed to worm its way into the drug-induced spell they placed him under: 'with your crew'. Khan had been pumped so full of powerful sedatives that day he couldn't even speak to confirm if he had even heard correctly. It was when he had awoken the second time was he able to know for sure…when he was actually in the room with them. But being with them again was almost all that he needed. Almost. He had to get them out of there once and for all.
With a certain level of resolve, he walked the thicket of cryotubes examining each one for a few moments—saying the names of their occupants in his head. The act empowered him, seeing them and rolling their names in his mind. At last he settled on one cryotube in particular. It was next to his open one, the one he had pointedly rigged to auto-release after a set time, allowing him to awaken. He turned his eyes to the person inside, a female. Manipulating the circular control panel on the tube, Khan watched the frosted haze clear and the color return to the woman's face. The sheath slid open and she would take a long draw of breath as grey green eyes drug open. They angled ever so lightly in her waker's direction. "Khan?" the woman questioned in a sigh, regarding him with sleep addled confusion. A warm smile spread onto his face, the bitterness he felt moments ago mercifully replaced with a deeply replenishing joy. "Good morning Lilith, it is good to see you."
A/N: (*) The mentioning of this particular name was meant to highlight a comparison and is in no way meant to utilize Ann Rice's literarily significant character in a fiction piece, keeping in line with FFN's policy of respecting the mentioned author's documented wishes in regards to fan works.
Also I hope the chapter was ok and not too overdone. Really please tell me how it was so I can better tailor the experience the next time around. Otherwise I'll still keep plodding along. Thanks for reading.