-Chapter Fifteen-
Kirk remained silent until the men hauling the body away were out of sight. "You killed him. Just like that. One of the guys you were gonna kill me over."
Khan was looking over, eyes unfocused, towards his home, from whence his family had disappeared. "I told them that if any of them laid a hand on Anthea, I would kill them. He thought marrying her had softened me enough that I would not do it. He hurt her, Kirk, gave her to the Klingons, and then he lied to me. He knew that was punishable by death, and he did it anyway."
He flexed his hands. "I needed to make an example of him. I am still Khan, and this is still my world. It is simply . . . smaller."
Kirk had a difficult time finding the words to voice the tumult in his head. "Doesn't it upset you, though, to kill one of your own?"
"Would it upset you, Kirk, if you were forced to execute one of your crew?"
"I wouldn't do it," Kirk insisted. "I'd court-martial them and exile them, or I'd lock them in the brig until I could take them back to Earth to stand trial."
Khan's blue eyes shifted, at last, to Kirk. There was no mockery in his voice, only a vague tinge of the pity of one who had seen horrors, and knew how naive Kirk truly was. "You say that, and I know you believe that, but there may come a day when you are forced to do it, to take the life of one of your crew for the safety of others. Then you will know how I feel."
The captain shook his head. "I still don't see how you could just . . . kill him, with no trial or anything."
"He knew my law, knew I would follow through. Or, perhaps, he was testing me, thinking me weak. We come from a savage time, Captain Kirk. We do not keep ourselves neatly ordered with regulations and protocols and uniforms. They lived with me before our exile. My people know my rule is absolute."
"So, what, they behave themselves and you don't kill them and you give them treats to stroke your ego?"
Khan snorted. "Hardly, Kirk. Otto usually handles the executions, though we haven't had one in centuries. I look after my people. You see these homes? I made certain I had personally worked on constructing each, that everyone here had a roof over their head, until I began construction of my own."
He turned and walked back towards the war table, sheltered from the sun by a tent-turned canopy. Kirk trailed behind, lost in his thoughts.
"You said he helped the Klingons take Anthea and your children," Kirk began.
Khan flattened his hands on the rough-hewn wooden surface, an involuntary spasm wracking him head to toe at the reminder. He was losing control; he didn't like it, didn't know how long he had until he completely snapped. Killing Rodriguez had not been enough to get a grip on his emotions. "Ironic that you should be the first I tell," he said after a moment or two. He sighed heavily.
"Anthea's pregnant," he confided at last. "Roughly nine weeks. We do not yet know the gender, but we are hoping for a girl."
He glanced up at Kirk. "I'm not certain why I told you that."
The younger man brushed his knuckles over the table top. "Because you're human?"
"At times, I have my doubts," Khan murmured to himself.
Kirk eyed the man before him, suddenly seeing not the driven warrior or the homicidal dictator, but a husband and father who faced losing what mattered most to him. He didn't understand the devotion Khan had to his people, not quite. But then, he thought of Carol. Of Spock, Bones, Uhura, Scotty. Even Sulu and Chekov. Yeah, scratch that, he got it.
"Look. You and I have our differences. We've tried to kill each other, but let's look beyond that. That deal we made stands. You helped us out on Brinthini, and I'm not gonna go back on what I said."
Khan turned slightly, watching Kirk through a dark fringe that fell in his eyes. "I sense a 'but' coming, Captain."
"Far as I'm concerned, Anthea is . . . Okay, not a friend, but a colleague. There's no way I can go on my way and leave you to find her by yourself. And the thought of your kid in their hands makes me sick to my stomach." It did. Kirk had to swallow past the nausea at the thought of that bright-eyed little boy at the mercy of the Klingons, had to fight just to speak. He couldn't imagine how Khan felt. "So we'll help you find her. Me, my crew and my ship. And when we've got them back, I'll drop you back off here and let you go about your business, just like we agreed."
It pained Khan to admit he needed outside assistance, but in this case, he couldn't do it alone. He had no idea where to look, outside of knowing the Klingons had her. But why?
"Rodriguez said that they came looking specifically for my wife," he said aloud. "They knew she was here, and they wanted her, no one else."
"He lied about the number of Klingons," Otto intoned. "There are only tracks for two."
"I know," Khan said. "So they came for her and my son. It could not have been for Brinthini. We assisted you, but that was a Starfleet operation. This was retaliation for something."
Nearby, there was a bright light, in a column shape, and a high, almost chiming sound. When the light faded, Commander Spock stood where it had been. Khan's men gaped, still not used to transporter technology.
"Spock," Kirk said. "I'm glad you're here. We've got a problem."
"Given that you did not immediately return to the ship, that was my conclusion as well," the Vulcan said. He took in the motley gathering. "I came to see if I may be of assistance. Please elucidate, Captain."
"Okay, here's the short version: While we were on Brinthini, some Klingons came here and kidnapped Khan's wife and kid. One of Khan's men helped them grab her, but he's dead."
Spock arched one already winged brow. "I presume you have offered our assistance in locating them?"
"It's the right thing to do," Kirk said defensively.
"I am not arguing. In fact, I agree." Spock turned to Khan. "My condolences."
Khan just stared at him.
"Do we know why Lieutenant Commander Harrison and the child were taken?"
Kirk shook his head. "Nope. Just that the Klingons were here specifically for her, and there were two of 'em. I'm guessing that the one survivor-she managed to kill one of them-beamed with her and Nolan back to their ship."
The captain swore to himself. "How did we not know there were two Birds of Prey in the area?"
"While it is apparently common for the smaller classes of ship to group on Qo'noS in a patrol party," Khan put in, "none of my reconnaisance while working for Starfleet indicating they do the same with the larger classes while away from their homeworld. It's behaviour I have not seen before."
The Vulcan watched him with those expressionless dark eyes, and it irritated him. "What?" Khan demanded.
"It would seem that the Klingons sought your wife in connection with you," Spock said. "But why?"
"That," Khan said, between gritted teeth, "is what we are trying to discern!"
Spock turned to Kirk. "Captain. You said yesterday that it was possible someone managed to survive when Khan took out the patrol in the Ketha province."
"Yeah," Kirk said slowly.
"Is it also possible, theorising that there was, indeed, a survivor, that the Klingons have managed to not only identify Khan as the party responsible for the patrol, but also to locate him?"
"Anything's possible, Spock," Kirk sighed. "Two years is a long time. But Khan and his people have only been here a couple months. What, four at the most?"
Khan nodded.
"Be a pretty big coincidence if they just happened to stumble across 'em like we did," Kirk continued.
"You believe that the Klingons on Brinthini contacted the Klingons in this system?"
"Maybe. I dunno."
It was possible, yes. It was also possible they had a spy somewhere, though that thought gave Kirk the beginnings of a headache.
Her first conscious thought was that her head hurt. "Hurt" was actually an understatement. It felt heavy and lopsided, even lying as she was on something hard and cold, and the stabbing pain sliced through with every beat of her heart.
Anthea groaned, lifting a hand to press it to her forehead. She gasped when her fingers encountered a large, spongey lump. Her eyes snapped open and she hissed in pain, even the low light of the room too much for her.
Where was she? Not the Reliance, not the cabin. The floor under her was metal, unfamiliar. She sat up and the room seemed to bounce and sway. Anthea clapped both hands to her head and groaned.
"Mama?"
Nolan!
Anthea immediately pushed aside her own discomfort and squinted through the dim light to find her son. He sat not far away, his face streaked with tears and dirt.
"Oh, my baby!" She snatched him up, ignoring the way moving made her head pound, and clutched him close. "Are you alright, No?"
He burrowed against her and hiccuped, an indication he'd been crying. Poor thing, all by himself while she'd been unconscious! She peppered the top of his head with kisses.
"Mama, ow!"
"Where does it ow?" she asked, setting him back a little in her lap.
"No," he said. "Mama ow!"
Nolan patted his own forehead.
She let out a shuddery breath. "Yeah," she whispered. "Mama has an ow, hasn't she?"
Gingerly, she reached up again, brushing her fingertips over the swelling on her forehead. Her memory was really fuzzy; she couldn't remember what had happened, how she'd come to be . . . wherever here was.
Nolan reached up and patted her cheek. "Grrr mens," he whispered. "Bad. Hurt Mama."
She caught his little hand, his fingers curling around her thumb. His simple words brough back flashes of . . . something. Fangs, harsh words-
The door to their cell banged open, and she didn't have to fight to remember anymore. A Klingon stood silhouetted in the doorway, the light blinding to Anthea's eyes. Instinctively, she shielded Nolan with her body.
"yIQam!"
She shrank back against the wall. "I don't understand! Please! What's going on?"
"Mev ving," he growled.
"I don't speak Klingon!" Anthea insisted. She really should have taken Khan up on his offer to teach her a few phrases, uncouth as she'd viewed it.
Another Klingon appeared and spoke to the first. The newcomer pushed past the first and came in, shining some hand-held light in her face.
"I speak English," he said roughly. "He said to get on your feet."
"I can't stand. I'm hurt."
The second Klingon grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head so he could shine the light over her head wound. "BaQa'," he muttered. He barked something at the first Klingon, who nodded and left.
Anthea licked dry lips, leaning away from the light. "Please . . . why is this happening? Where are we?"
"You are aboard our ship, the mighty Gr'oth. I am Captain Koloth. You are wife to Khan, also called John Harrison?"
She wasn't sure if lying or telling the truth would have a worse outcome. Nervously, Anthea nodded. "I'm- I'm Anthea Harrison."
Furiously, she tried to think of why the Klingons wanted her. It had to do with Khan, obviously. They knew he'd been John Harrison, but it had been over two years since he'd used that name. The last time had been . . . Qo'noS.
"What do you want with my husband?" she rasped.
"That is for us to know," Koloth growled. "Now get on your feet!"
He gripped her arm with bruising force and hauled her upright. The room swayed and she stumbled, unable to catch herself with Nolan in her arms.
Koloth said something in his tongue and made as if to hit her. She ducked, curling against the wall, and gasped, "Please, no! I'm pregnant!"
The Klingon captain froze with a hand in the air, his dark eyes wide. Before he could speak, the other one was back with what appeared to be a first aid kit, and she belatedly realised it was the one from the cabin, the one Khan had left there after Joachim had hammered the nail into his hand.
The two Klingons conversed, and the lower-rank one left again, returning in a few moments with what looked like a medical tricorder. He scanned her with it, then said something to his captain. To Anthea, with her pounding head and nausea, it sounded like dogs growling and barking.
She yelped when the captain grabbed her arm again and hauled her out into a corridor. Anthea nearly had to run to keep up, holding her son tight.
To her surprise, he opened a door to a small cabin, shoved her through the door, and tossed the first aid kit on the floor. Then the door slid shut and an indicator light to the side flashed red.
Anthea took that to mean the door was locked. She slowly let out a breath and surveyed the room. It was barely four square metres, just big enough for a cot, a wash-stand, and a horrifyingly basic toilet. Still, it was an improvement from that cramped little space she'd been in.
She set Nolan on the bed and retrieved the first aid kit. After dry-swallowing two pain killers, she used antiseptic wipes to clean the blood off her face and did what she could to bandage her forehead in the meagre reflection from the sink, as there was no mirror.
"You are being such a good boy, Nolan," she said to her son, when she joined him on the bed. "I know it's scary. But Daddy will come for us. He'll be here soon, and he'll take us home."
Nolan nuzzled against her, popping his thumb into his mouth. "Mama," he mumbled around it.
"Shh. Go to sleep, baby." She leaned her head against the wall.
Her head hurt viciously and she wanted Khan more than ever before.
She could only pray he'd find them in time.